B’fore’n the tussle ‘tween ’em could erupt, a hubbub commotioned itself behind ’em, and they both turned to see someone walk in. They both squared up.
Ain’t nobody allowed in they dead-end.
But it was Mistah Chow, the wonton-shape sunnyskin sumbitch who do run this oil rig. He was a scowling soybean, ticktocky voice like snapping chopsticks, and he looked down his nose at Lem fer being black and Buck fer being a hillbilly and the both them fer being American, trashy, ugly, dumb, hairy and barbaric. He do curl his lip. “You two, you go see medic, you have med-ic-aw fowms to do — you have vassinayshun, yes? You have done vassinayshun?” He stopped short on a frown like somebody spilled his rice when he seed the porno magazine in Lem’s hand. He grabbed it. “You haff po-no?”
“Aw, Mistah Chow-“
“No po-no! Is iwegaw!” Mistah Chow backed outta the dead-end, porno magazine in hand. “Go to med-ic to-night!” He was shouting like a Chinaman do, like a siren with a stutter, as he left the dead-end, and his words faded to machine-gunning echoes on all down the corridor.
A cathedral of silence spread thru the dead-end, and Buck and Lem exchanged knowing glances.From Buck on Bottom
Category: Lem Staggerman
Buck don’t get that, but he don’t question the ways of crazy old black men. It’s a personal rule, and it do serve him well.
“Sweaty whiteboys smell like a closet of ham.”
Lem been suggesting they ‘trade off’ — that meant they both slurp upon each other’s knobs. It sounded narsty to Buck. He’d rather jack his own self off. Buck done made it clear he don’t admire to do that. He don’t wanna taste Lem’s old-homeboy dick. Lem steady went on ’bout it, slapping his limpness ‘tween his ropy thighs.
Supposably, black boys be doing it in prison.
“T’ain’t no thang, Buckums! You just gotsta focus on yo’ own meat steada yo’ mouf! You eat pussy! Ain’t no d’rent dan eatin’ pussy!” Lem don’t eat pussy. He do say it demeans a nigga. Buck’ll lick a female, no problem. Buck got no compinktions ’bout a pussy.
If’n Lem gets drunk ’nuff, he will lick a bitch’s asshole. Buck don’t get that, but he don’t question the ways of crazy old black men. It’s a personal rule, and it do serve him well.
As Lem went on and on like some crackhead’s crackhead uncle, Buck began his workout. He did push-ups, counting hisself off, and his broad shoulders sweated out, wafting his manhood into they dead-end. Eventually he dropped off his jeans and continued his push-ups in his drawers. He weared tight-whites, his asshair peeking round the frayed edges. The fabric was soaked up by the small of his back and his taint, wet ’nuff to be transparent.
“You stink, hillbilly,” Lem said with a harsh-eyed glare when Buck done finisht his push-ups. Buck ain’t respond. He just rested upon his belly ’til he was ready, then he rolled o’er onto his back, his drawers’s poucha fat balls jiggling to a rest ‘tween his legs. Lem put out a frown. “Sweaty whiteboys smell like a closet of ham.”From Buck on Bottom
Lem blamed the Haitians, cuz they was like that and cuz he was like that.
After that, the convo turned to who was suspected of being the rig thief, cuz that was the hot topic of the moment. Somebody was stealing shit outta personal effects, and it was causing ripples all over the rig. Lem blamed the Haitians, cuz they was like that and cuz he was like that. Steel got similar notions about this Argentinian girl-sniffer, and Petrov suggestified one of his own Russians might could be behind it. Only a Russian would blame one of they own.
After that, the convo turned to who was suspected of being the rig thief, cuz that was the hot topic of the moment. Somebody was stealing shit outta personal effects, and it was causing ripples all over the rig. Lem blamed the Haitians, cuz they was like that and cuz he was like that. Steel got similar notions about this Argentinian girl-sniffer, and Petrov suggestified one of his own Russians might could be behind it. Only a Russian would blame one of they own.
The pantyhose
He held up a pantyhose. He stretched it out so you could see it had a couple holes in it, and makeup was applied around the holes to give it a look like a human face — mascara around the eyeholes, lipstick around the mouth, blush on the cheeks. “This is the mask. Those of you who’ve worked here before know how it works. You can explain it to the newboots.”
It wasn’t until that night, after lights-out, that Lem explained how the mask worked. If you put the pantyhose on, people could pay to ramrod you up the poop-chute or in the mouth. Standard payment was a full flask of liquor. You “couldn’t tell” who was wearing the mask — really, you could, even if you couldn’t see their face, cuz there was height and weight and tattoos and hair — they all showered together, there wasn’t any hiding who it was.
But it was a rule, Lem said, that every fool on the rig gotta pretend they ain’t recognize whoever wear the mask. You was sposedta call him “Sheila” and pretend you was making sweet love to Sheila’s pussy.
It was not until a few days later that Lem revealed the mask didn’t gotta be a choice. If somebody could force it on you, you had to do it just the same. The rule was that you could plow whoever wore the mask, if you paid the price of a flask — that was it, don’t matter if the masker was begging you to stop or even if the masker managed to take it off before you were done. If the Sheila did get it off, then that “you gotta pretend you don’t know who it was” rule got cancelled — you could call that man a bitch for the resta his life.
So mostly, nobody fought it. If you could force the mask on someone and then get your dick in their butthole, they were better off keeping the mask on.
Who knows what frotting is?
That’s called ‘frotting’. Kax don’t know it had a name, and he was surprised Buck knewed sump’in he don’t. Buck don’t got a reputation as a smarty-pants.
“Fuck you, Buckums!” Lem said and groaned. But he sat down, facing Buck, still holding Buck’s thirteen-inch dick in both hands. He flopped it left and right. He scooted closer and thwacked both his dick and Buck’s in both hands. They was both soft. Slightly hard but mostly soft. Maybe ten percent hard.
That’s called ‘frotting’. Kax don’t know it had a name, and he was surprised Buck knewed sump’in he don’t. Buck don’t got a reputation as a smarty-pants. But he knewed ’bout frotting — rubbing two dicks together til they both nut. Seemed pointless to Buck. It was just like jacking off, but less enjoyable, more time-consuming, messier and you get touched by a elderly homeboy who smell like he’s about ninety percent armpits.
But black boys in prison stay frotting. T’is like a eggplant salad in there. Kax be making faces like he wanna dispute that but can’t cuz Buck got facts and truth and testymonials and witnesses and Lem’s ugly pecker all vouching for its accuracy. Anywayhowwhatever, Lem be frotting his hardon with Buck’s softy, and Buck just endured it like a bored sausage. Lem be panting and huffing on Buck’s chest, complaining about the body hair — why he admireta frot a honky if’n he don’t like body hair? Homeboys do be like that.
Buck groaned and looked away. He picked up the safety manual. He liked the pitcher of the light-skinned gal showing off how to use the eyewarshing station. She was fully clothed but got a banging paira tits. He tried to ignore the feel of Lem’s narsty old-man hands stroking both dingdongs together. Buck’s dick stayed soft still, while Lem’s was gradually turning firm as hot marshmallows.
“Aww, yeah, lemme see that,” Lem said. Buck held it up so’s the lady with hydraulic fluid in her eyes could be seen by both them, while Lem stroked both they cocks together. Lem was badmouthing the idea of jacking off with the manual earlier. T’was why he paid fer the porno magazine.
The eyewarshing gal was purdier’an a’ry the porno ladies. But she was fully clothed in all the safety gear. Somehow she ain’t even get wet using that eyewarshing station.
The slurpy side
Buck ain’t axe what a gloryhole was, not even when he overheard a Portuguese feller exclaim how good the gloryhole on the rig was. Finally, Lem showed it to him one night, and he said there was a bootyful A-rab gal on t’other side of the hole drilled ‘tween two unused rooms. “She love dick, whiteboy,” Lem said. “That’s why she sign up fo’ it. Pay’s prolly good, reckon. But she love swallowin’ nuts. She wish she got jizz on tap.”
“Really? I ain’t think no guhls like cum,” Buck said. “H’ain’t it gross?” He eyed Lem suspicious-like. Lem got a crooked-serious face, like he was maybe funning. But t’other fellers on the rig all agreed it was a fine A-rab lady on her knees, not no fleshlight.
And it was the A-rabs on the rig who ran the gloryhole. A-rabs was way more likely to do it to a fleshlight ‘an a Muslim lady, Buck thought. So’n it must be a fleshlight. But t’other hand, they wouldn’t claim it was a A-rab lady if’n it wasn’t true, since that’d be shameful upon them Muslim cultures. So’n they’d only say it was a woman if’n it was.
In the end, that was what he settled on. He wouldn’t bet money it was a woman, but he guessed it was. Besides’n, he could talk to a woman as though she was real, and t’wouldn’t hurt nuttin’ if’n turned out to be a fleshlight. He invited her to come see him in his and Lem’s li’l home on the rig, but she ain’t ne’er come.
The weird thing was that Buck ne’er did see nobody come in or outta the gloryhole room — that’s the room on t’other side, where’n the purportory lady was on her knees. Lotta fellers came in and outta the hole side, but not the side with the lady. Even if’n it was a fleshlight, somebody gotsta go in and out.
Buck poked his head into the slurpy side once, during the day, and there wasn’t nuttin’ ‘t all in it ‘cept the ghosts of cigarettes. No fleshlight, no knee pads, no hijabis, no ashtray, no bucketful of nutjuice. Smelled of unfiltered cigarettes though. Later on, Buck’s buddy Lem started going in and outta the hole room. Lem said that he was allowed cuz the lady in there love black dick so much — Lem was black as charcoal, and he got a dick that was somehow even darker ‘an him.
Shovelwork
He opened his mouth to say more but caught eye of Buck’s club-like dick resting on the floor between Buck’s legs — Buck was sitting splay-legged to air out his balls, which was disgusting.
“You feelin’ okay about ya work, Igo?” Lem asked once they got into it. He had a bottle of wine in hand — he kept wine in a cold box outside their heated area and saved it for special occasions. He drank from it, then pushed it upon Igo. “I seen you keepin’ up with them in the shovel room.”
“It is hard work! My shoulders are very tired,” Igo said. He opened his mouth to say more but caught eye of Buck’s club-like dick resting on the floor between Buck’s legs — Buck was sitting splay-legged to air out his balls, which was disgusting, Igo thought — as Lem’s foot ventured to it and Lem picked it up with his toes. He tried gripping the skin on the top of it, but he couldn’t get it up more than a few inches before it slipped out.
“Yeah, man, shovelwork is fuckin’ awful,” Lem said. His eyes were trained on his toes trying to pick up Buck’s shaft. “I did that on my first contract. You nevuh done shovelwork, Buck?”
Buck shook his head. “When I gots here-” He paused as Lem almost got his dick up with his toes, then it slipped out of his foot-grasp again. “Mistuh Chow said he ain’t want me doin’ shovel stuff on account of my ass bein’ tall and big and shit, and he say he need tall guys in the access chamber, and plus I prolly get hit in the head wit’ them shovels.”
“Oh yeah, yeah, they hit me couple times, hurts like hell,” Lem said. He was focused on picking up Buck’s dick with his toes, which distracted him from what he was saying. “And you… taller ‘an me… Buckums.”
Igo couldn’t tear his eyes away from that. Buck’s dong jiggled like jello as Lem slowly perfected curling his toes around the skin atop it. He finally got it up, slowly, gripping the skin tightly. Buck and Igo both sucked in their breath, Buck exuberantly but Igo with shock and disgust.
Lem finally had it up as high as he could, and then he made to sort of bump it in the air — making Igo shy away — and move his foot to the underside of it, so it landed like a flabby sausage on the top of his off-brown foot.
All three cheered, as all three realized they had gotten distracted from the game. Buck and Lem held cards in their hands, and more were spread out on the blanket in front of them.
Lem didn’t keep Buck’s dong on his foot. The whole reason he had started doing that was to see if he could get his foot close to Buck’s balls, so he could yell “balltap!” and kick him in the cojones. He did so and got Buck harder than he meant to. Buck yowled in pain and laughed, leaning back and gripping his balls to protect them from his foot.
“Owwwww, fuck, Lem, fuck-!” He kicked in the direction of Lem but didn’t really aim it. In this tiny space, it was hard to miss, but it was only a glancing blow to the meat of Lem’s hip, as he twisted away. “Makin’ my… balls achin’! Aw, fuck!”
Buck jumped up, and his dick flopped near Igo’s face. He backed off quietly. Buck paced in the tiny space — he could only take a few steps back and forth — as he held his sore balls. “Ow, shit! Lem, I nevuh hit ya balls that hard!”
Lem laughed. “I ain’t mean it, I ain’t mean to hit ’em that hard-” He held his hands up then went back to protecting his own balls. “Don’t — I ain’t mean to-“
“Fuck!” Buck roared and stamped his feet.
“I ain’t mean to kick that hard, sorry, sorry,” Lem said. He was still laughing too hard to sound genuine. “I ain’t mean to.” Then he did a horsey version of Buck’s Appalachian drawl. “Leeeeehm-uh, you’s mayahkin’ muh bawwwhhhls buh ayahkin! Ayahkin!”
“I don’t say it like that-! Fuck you, Lem!”
“Mah baaaaaaawwwhls iz ayahkin like baaaayahkin-“
Buck was laughing too now, as the pain in his balls eased. He had to admit that was funny — he had a comedic soft spot for guys getting hit in the balls. He still held them in his hand, his dong still dangling free. He bent over a little, realizing only too late that that put his hairy ass near Igo’s face. “Oh, my bad, Igo-“
“Shove somethin’ in there, Igo!” Lem said with a howl. “Just grab whatevuh you got ovuh there. He always used ta put his ass in my face till I jammed a handheld radio in his booty.” He made a little psst sound. “Went right up there. Nevuh came out.”From Buck the Roughneck
Kareem
Kareem blushed and tried to cover himself again with both hands, but he was shivering so bad it hurt, and his teeth chattered so hard he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t stand still. Lem batted his hands away. Buck burst into uproarious laughter when he saw.
“Yo, nigga, what the fuck?!” Lem said. He turned to Buck. “Yo, Buck, you see that?”
“Nah, ya bony asshole was in my way,” Buck said. “What happened?”
Lem darted to where Kareem shivered and stood, his hands at his sides as he was doubled over and gasping, shivering violently. His light brown body gleamed with ice-cold shower water. He faced the wall, so all Lem and Buck could see was his smooth buttcheeks. He didn’t see Lem come up behind him and twirl him around so his back was to the wall. “Yo, nigga, Kareem, what’s up wit’cha dick?”
Kareem blushed and tried to cover himself again with both hands, but he was shivering so bad it hurt, and his teeth chattered so hard he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t stand still. Lem batted his hands away. Buck burst into uproarious laughter when he saw.
There was no penis.
Or maybe there was? Buck didn’t see it at all at first, then stepped closer.
Yep, it was a micropenis. It was a a fleck of flesh. “Yo, buddy, you — you just cold, right?” Buck furrowed his brow. “He prolly just cold, Lem.”
“It’s fine, it’s…” Kareem took a deep breath. He couldn’t get warm, and he felt like he was getting colder even though he was out of the water. The whole showering area was freezing quickly because of all the cold water. Lem and Buck weren’t worried because it would be like a sauna when the hot water turned on imminently.
“That ain’t normal shrinkage,” Lem said. He went to the shower and jutted his crotch into the water. He had a serious look on his face until he touched the water, then he laughed and howled. Even knowing the cold water was coming, he still was shocked by the iciness of it, and he danced in place. He showed his dong off to Buck. “See? It only shrink a little.” He pointed to Kareem. “He got little-boy dick. How old is you?”
“I’m eighteen!” Kareem said. “It’s normal! My doctor says it’s fine.” His cheeks were bright red.
“That ain’t fine,” Buck said. “You can’t even get that in a pussy, you know. Ya dick is littler than pussy lips.” He got closer to Kareem and slapped his hand out of the way.
Kareem’s weiner was fingernail-length, and his balls were shrunken — that was indeed just shrinkage from the shower water, as Kareem’s balls were normal-sized. He panted and jumped up and down, still freezing from the water evaporating off his skin. The floor felt like ice.
“Hhhhhnnnnn!” Kareem tried to both warm up and cover his crotch, but Buck kept slapping his hand away.
“I think he might be one of them hermaphorodities,” Lem said. He got up real close to Kareem and cupped his balls and dick in one hand. “Like that ain’t a dick, it’s a clit. He got balls in place of a actual pussy.”
“Really?” Buck said.
“No!”
“Is that a thing?” Buck came closer too, and he even got on his knees to inspect Kareem’s dick more closely.
“No!”
“Yeah-huh, I seen a article ’bout it,” Lem said. The showering area was beginning to fill with steam as the water turned warm finally. “Hey, you you got a pussy I can fuck?”
Kareem tried to get away but slipped and landed on the floor on his ass. Before he knew it, he was pinned by Lem’s knees, and Lem’s big black dick was in his face. “Get off me!”
On black cops
Buck immediately took off his sandals and briefs, and he sat on the bench in the center of the locker area. Lem undressed more slowly, as he continued a long story that had begun before they entered the corridor.
Finally they went out to the showers, their pace quickening as soon as they left their heated home and ventured out into the unheated corridor. Their sandaled feet clopped loudly on the cold steel floor.
It was cold enough to take Buck’s breath away, the exhilaration waking him up like the opposite of a hot cup of coffee. It felt good, his chest literally steaming because he had been so hot on the other side of their makeshift blanket wall and now the air out in the corridor was around the freezing point. Pinpoints of ice prickled the tips of his chest hair. He wore only his briefs and his shower sandals, so his skin ruddened and tingled.
Lem hot-tailed it into the bathroom, and Buck arrived more slowly after. They were glad to see they had the whole space for themselves. Most roughnecks showered in little nationality groupings, and Buck and Lem were the only two Americans.
The rig shower looked trashy — it was trashy — because it was rarely cleaned. It smelled strongly of feet. A garbage can overflowing with soap boxes, shampoo bottles and abandoned underwear sat in one corner of the showering area.
But there was something cozy about it, Buck thought. It was warm and inviting, and it felt like a sauna in here. People had hung towels up, some of them apparently having been left for years because they were abandoned and never cleaned up — you could tell because there was algae growing on them. In a few places, there were cracks in the walls, filled with makeshift rags and remnants of old life preservers as insulation.
He immediately took off his sandals and briefs, and he sat on the bench in the center of the locker area. Lem undressed more slowly, as he continued a long story that had begun before they entered the corridor.
“So I tolds the cops that that nigga was my daddy, he ain’t sayin’ I took his car — I was r’trievin’ his car from them othuh nigguhs I don’t know,” Lem said. “And the white fellah, he says he believe me but he still gettin’ his taser out and shit, and he lookin’ at me like he ain’t believe me. The other po-liceman, he a nigga — he a redbone nigga, you know ’bout them right? He redbone as fuck, nigga, lookin’ like a crayon and shit.” He wasn’t even undressing anymore. Lem had gotten down to his drawers and shirt, but he didn’t want to take his shirt off because he would have to lift it over his head and that would break eye contact with Buck and interrupt his story. He paused with his shirt half up, baring his ropy chest. “He say outright he ain’t believe me. Black cops is the worst, lemme tell you-“
“Yeah,” Buck said. “Black cops is a buncha shitheads-” He hung his head and sighed because Lem was on a tear and not listening to him.
“I was like, you ain’t gotta tase a brother just cuz you ain’t call the man who reported his car missin’,” Lem said. “My pops’ll say I gots permissy-on to come get it. Them nigguhs who took it ain’t even try to stop me, on account of they know I’ll pop ’em off in a heartbeat.” He stopped suddenly because someone walked in.From Buck the Roughneck
You gonna be my cell wife
“You gonna be my cell wife,” Elwin said. “Mostly, that means you do wifey stuff, like you wash my clothes and you make sure I got toilet paper in the roll, that kinda thing.”
From Buck the Roughneck