Shit gets real on the oil rig

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.

From Fists, Men and Muscles

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 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!”

From Buck the Roughneck

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

Pull-ups

“I know it ain’t nevuh been cool to got cornrows lookin’ like graverows. Ya scalp look like the cemetery you ’bout to move into, Lem.”

“This is my space too!” Lem said. “I don’t wanna live in ya pigsty!” He licked his teeth as Buck resumed doing pullups. “Don’t get all sweaty neithuh. You stink at night.”
“You stink at night! You smell like asphalt, old man,” Buck said with a grin. He was getting good at these pullups. It was more like a gymnast on the parallel bars than a traditional pullup, and he could feel it working his shoulders and his thighs real good. “Asphalt and menthol cigarettes. Why you smoke menthols anyway? Taste like toothpaste.” He did another pullup, angling his hairy feet towards Lem, who dodged them and took a drag on his cigarette.
“Bullshit! You a redneck hillbilly mothahfuckah! You got so much hair! Why can’t you shave nothing?”
“Just makes it grow back thicker,” Buck said. His biceps strained to keep him parallel to the ceiling, his feet now above Lem’s head. Buck placed one foot on Lem’s cornrows. His scalp was palpable and smooth beneath the coarse rows of silver-and-black hair. “Old black men with cornrows look ridiculous, Lem, you know that, right?”
“Shut the fuck up. What do you know about black hair?” Lem glared at the foot resting on his scalp, but he didn’t push it off. Buck’s balls dangled between his legs in front of Lem’s face.
“I know it ain’t nevuh been cool to got cornrows lookin’ like graverows. Ya scalp look like the cemetery you ’bout to move into, Lem-” He put both feet on Lem’s shoulders.
With both of Buck’s feet on his shoulders, his cock and balls were right in front of Lem’s face. Lem didn’t complain because Buck’s heavy feet weighed him down, and he didn’t want to look like he was unable to handle that. “I ain’t — ain’t nothin’ wrong with cornrows on a man who got some years — I ain’t gotta justify myself to some knuckle-headed honky who look like he too trashy for the trailer park.”
“What’s that mean? I am from a trailer park-“
“Figures. Ain’t nothin’ worse than white trash-” Lem stopped because Buck had used his feet on Lem’s shoulders to pull him closer. Still dangling from the pull-up bar, Buck had his ankles on Lem’s shoulders, holding him in place as Buck humped the air to make his dick flop forward — he was trying to slap Lem on the head with his dong. Lem still didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of complaining about the weight on his shoulders.
“What’s so bad about trailer parks? I like mine. It’s called Smashwood,” Buck said. He got enough momentum to angle his body and angle Lem’s too, a little closer, and that was enough for his fatty pecker to land on Lem’s forehead.

From Buck the Roughneck

If it ain’t Christ, it ain’t right!

They was something, and whatever they was, it wasn’t right.

“Ohh-zshoo-woo-joo!” One of ’em said, or sumpin’ similar, Steel don’t listen to no Haitian voodoo. If it ain’t Christ, it ain’t right! But Steel did watch the video about respecting diversity on the oil rig, and he ain’t tell the Haitians they was some devil-worshipping pagans. Maybe. Steel don’t actually know what “pagan” means. But they was something, and whatever they was, it wasn’t right.

From Steel the Roughneck

This old black feller Lem, he was like a hundred

Well, more like fifty, but he seemed ancient to Buck, and he smelled like a soggy newspaper.

Not much to do upon Rig E19 but play ’round with the only other American. T’was this old black feller named Lem. He was like a hundred. Well, more like fifty, but he seemed ancient to Buck, and he smelled like a soggy newspaper.
“You nevuh in yo’ life read a newspaper!” Lem said with a cackle and a jab with his cigarette. “You dunno nuffin’, whiteboy.”

From Fists, Men and Muscles

Honky-ass whiteboy hillbilly got weak-dick syndrome

He wagged his dick in Mason’s direction. “Cain I do a complaint? Lem got a dirty dick.”

He wagged his dick in Mason’s direction. “Cain I do a complaint? Lem got a dirty dick-“
“Nuh-uh, I cleans it. I’mma do a complaint ’bout Buckums’s dick. Honky-ass whiteboy hillbilly got weak-dick syndrome, I seen that. He fat-“
“Shut ya old fool mouth, Lem, you don’t know nuttin’ ’bout whiteboy dingdong,” Buck said.

From Roughnecks Got Oral Needs!

Swordfighting

Mason saw them standing there, dicks in hand, mid-thwack upon each other.

They were swordfighting in the center of their living space.
Their soft dicks dangled afront them, but it was clear they had been swinging ’em at each other just a second ago. Both men’s hips were angled towards each other, underwear around their ankles. Wry grins popped up on both Buck and Lem. Both men’s bare asses were still dappled with shower water.

Mason stopped short, unable to tear his eyes from their bared crotches. Buck’s cock was huge, and Lem’s was knobbly and darker-skinned than the rest of him. Actually Buck’s was darker than the rest of his skin as well.
Lem’s cock was not as big as Buck’s but seemed bigger cuz Lem was rangy and ropy-muscled. His cock was as thick as his biceps, and Lem was dense like he had crammed a more muscular man inside of himself. Lem and Buck both held back laughter when Mason saw them standing there, dicks in hand, mid-thwack upon each other.
They both stood up on their chagrin.

Buck’s cheeks turned burgundy underneath his unshaved beard. He chuckled, which made his pecker jiggle and his pecs flex. He was meaty and thick all over, but Lem was dark-skinned and taut from head to toe, his muscles dotted with bluish-gray tatttoos, and he had only a smattering of ebon body hair on his sternum. Mason chuckled. “Who’s winning the swordfight, gentleman?”
“Me!”
“Nah, me! Mah hog wrecked his piglet!”
That chagrined look remained on both they faces, then Buck grinned at the same time Lem scowled, and the both them slapped dicks at each other at the same moment.

Detente broken, the swordfight resumed. Buck and Lem battled dick to dick, both of them leaning their upper halves back and their lower halves forward to get better leverage. It was unclear what the point of the competition was.
“Gotcha, Buckums-!”
“Ow, don’t hit mah balls!”
“Whiteboy, yo’ ugly dick best surrenduh, or I’mma treat it harsh-“
“You narsty, Lem!”
“You smell like velveeta, hillbilly!”

From Roughnecks Got Oral Needs

Narsty old-feller dingdong feels like a sad baseball bat

If’n you tells him, he gonna be comin’ he’uh all the time! All the time like weather!

“Hell yeah. J’st don’t tell Lem. Or anywhom, but ‘specially not Lem. Lem do it too, he steady tryin’-a jack off wit’ me. I tells him he cain get me off any way he want, but I ain’t admire touchin’ his narsty old-feller dingdong. Feels like a sad baseball bat. I done went to prison, Mason. I know ’bout gettin’ off wit’ a feller,” Buck said. “I j’st don’t admire to touch Lem’s wigwam. If’n you tells him, he gonna be comin’ he’uh all the time! All the time like weather! He like that, he is like that, Mason.” He wagged a finger at Mason as if scolding Lem.

From Roughnecks Got Oral Needs!