MN Manmacker's mansploitation
She wore a low-cut dress — low-cut over the tits and low-cut over the ass too — she got cleavage at both ends.
“Hmm, sugar, you two look cute enough to eat up!” said this thick black woman who sat down with ’em then. She was one of ’em for sure. She wore a low-cut dress — low-cut over the tits and low-cut over the ass too — she got cleavage at both ends.
Nice cleavage too. Like pairs of pitchers’ mounds.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
Wojo’s kisses traveled lower though. She said last night she liked how he licked her down there, and so Wojo did it again. What every woman he’d been with agreed on was that his barbarian-size tongue was a plus when it came to, yu’know… licking ’em out in the downstairs.
So he did it again. He plunged his tongue into her pussy, and he slurped on her clit until she couldn’t stop whisper-begging for more. She maybe asked Tommy to join in or maybe Tommy did it in on his own, but when she was good and wet, Tommy was kissing her down.
They both ate her out good, she was purring like a kitten. You could tell she liked it cuz she was pumping her hips like as if to force her womanhood down their throats. Wojo wrinkled his nose when Tommy’s tongue touched his, but he didn’t fuss, even when Tommy laid down next to Wojo. Tommy’s hardon rubbed on Wojo’s asscheeks, as they both had to squeeze into the small space of the bunk.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
It’d look like he was demanding sex without an offer of marriage. Wojo wanted that very badly, which was why he don’t wanna ask for it. A man can’t ask for what he wants, he gotta earn it.
Wojo didn’t want to chat first because it would inevitably lead to talk about Pam, and he didn’t know what to think about her. Had she dumped him? Or were they on the verge of engagement? Was she mad at him? Maybe he should ask her to move in with him? But then it’d look like he was demanding sex without an offer of marriage. Wojo wanted that very badly, which was why he don’t wanna ask for it. A man can’t ask for what he wants, he gotta earn it.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
Women do that, they eat quick if they’re gonna dump you so they can leave right away if things get awkward. She did kiss him goodbye, but sometimes women do that, they do kiss a fellah after dumping him. Wojo done misread the signals on that before.
“I just… I want to know that this relationship is going somewhere,” Pam said. She said more, but her voice faded to the back of Wojo’s consciousness.
Did she know? Wojo hung his head low. He sensed that she knew about the night with Belinda. Wojo still felt guilty about it. Or maybe she sensed that he had been was planning on proposing to her tonight. How could she know? He never told anyone. Her wanting a commitment tonight made it more difficult to propose, though he couldn’t put his finger on why.
“I, uh… I like you a lot, Pam,” he said. He licked his teeth. He wanna propose to her.
But was it too early? She might think he’s a jerk, that he’s pushing her into it. A parta him knew that was ridiculous, she was literally telling him she wanted a commitment.
But what if she said no? What if she didn’t wanna marry a bricklayer? Maybe she wanted a man with a proper career, like an accountant or engineer or something. He was just a retarded-ass crayon-eating Marine. Bet!
In the end, Wojo was paralyzed, and he ain’t really say nothing before kissing her goodbye. He didn’t even know what happened there. Did she dump him? Wojo felt like an idiot. Did he have to ask her if he was dumped?
She done scarf down her grilled chicken. That could be a sign she dumped him. Women do that, they eat quick if they’re gonna dump you so they can leave right away if things get awkward. She did kiss him goodbye, but sometimes women do that, they do kiss a fellah after dumping him. Wojo done misread the signals on that before.
At no point did she say he was dumped, he thought. So he could treat that as not a dumping.
He was glad he didn’t propose though. It’d be awkward as hell if he proposed and she said no and then dumped him. It was better to just not let anything happen. Let the status quo remain.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
Men must risk, so that women don’t have to.
Pastor Steve said. “The good Lord above wants you to take a risk, Frank. Men must risk, so that women don’t have to.”
From Wojo the Bricklayer
Cassius was still built like a boxer though. Bit wrinkly on his square face, bulgy like he was all lumpy and stuff. But he got a chest like a bull and giant fists. Skin dark as a horse. His pecker was almost as big as Wojo’s too.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
Anyone large and hairy was sent down here to the basement, where there was a boiler, rows of folded chairs and tables, and the small cot, TV and hot plate that constituted Cassius’s home.
He was there folding his laundry, and he hadn’t heard Buck come down the stairs. The TV was on, an old black and white movie playing with the volume very high. Cassius had a sleeveless tee on, the old eighties-style muscle shirt with the low-cut front and sides, but Cassius had obviously gotten the shirt back in the 80s when his broad chest filled it out. He’d withered a bit since then, and now the shirt was loose and draped over his wrinkled but powerful frame. He moved with a little rhythm, not musical, more like he was dodging and weaving in the boxing ring again, but slowly and as he folded his clothes.
Physically speaking, Cassius was actually only fifteen years older than Buck — he was barely fifty — he just came across as older. He had a nice thick ass, Buck noticed, beneath his old faded basketball shorts. He hoped it wasn’t too wrinkly.
From Buck the Ex-Con
Her name was Pam, and she got a round face like a cow — that ain’t an insult. She was pretty as a plum, she just got a round face. She was delicate as a bowl of cream, and she got a pretty laugh, like mad pretty.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
Tommy was a trashy sort, from Daytona Beach, with a handsome face that girls loved. He got strippers, mad strippers. For real, strippers came home with him, not prostitutes — Tommy got no money, he spent his Marine pay packet on beer and cigarettes, mostly. Tommy ain’t even eat on leave. Aside from a lapdance or two, he didn’t spent money on women, and still they came running to him.
Wojo got a big breakfast at a diner, but Tommy sat there with a cuppa coffee and two scrambled eggs. He asked for ’em “runny as piss”, and the waitress giggled at that. Tommy got dimples and soulful eyes, that was why. Wojo looked like a cardboard box that got run over. Tommy could always make a girl laugh.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
She was pretty like a sunrise, shoot! She got blonde hair and a nice neck. Her hair was all done up neat, rain ain’t ruin it at all, she was too nice for that, like mad nice. She sipped on her elaborate drink, getting whipped cream on her upper lip. You could just tell she’d be soft and warm and cuddly. Bet!
From Wojo the Bricklayer
Wojo swaggered in like it was a chore to carry so many meaty muscles, and his big square face was huffing and ruddy. His shoulders and hair were speckled with brick dust, and clods of mortar clung to his clothes.
Avery inhaled deeply of the work-toned musk and firm muscles of his shoulders. Years of bricklaying made Wojo bulky, his shoulders and upper arms massive, hands callused like a troll, even his wrists felt callused when Avery’s hands roamed down his arms. Avery felt the tension and the roiling heat beneath his furnacey body.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
He sat down across from her at a bite-size table. “I was wearin’ cologne, just so you know,” Wojo said, his voice too deep for the room, it got those high ceilings like a chamber, and Sandra didn’t like it, she ain’t said that, but Wojo could tell, he was pretty sure, she prolly thought he talked like a cannon. “Cologne got washed off by the rain, you know, in the rain.” He gestured out to the downpour through the window, then, realizing he didn’t need to do that, he clammed up and brought his hands down to the table like a teacher told him to keep his hands to himself. “I wore it though. The cologne.” A girlfriend once told him he should always wear cologne when not at work, and he wanted credit for doing so, even if Sandra couldn’t smell it.
Wojo drank his coffee black, no fufu stuff in it. He got a small cuz he don’t really want any coffee, it was just an excuse for a date with Sandra, but now he thought the coffee looked too small in his meaty grip. He got mad clodhopping hands, big as shovels, callused like old workgloves, his knuckles gnarled and thick. She noticed that, she was looking scornful at ’em in the restaurant last week.
But there was no such button, and prolly she’d get turned off when she realized he was just a big-ass bricklayer, dumb as a clod of dirt. And he used to be a Marine. Oorah. He dunno if that was a plus for girls or not. It seemed like girls liked it at the time, but now they was fussing about it like it don’t matter. Maybe calling hisself a “former Marine” made him sound old. Only washed-up old men was former anythings.
Lotta Marines say there ain’t no such thing as a former Marine, just ones that are civilians now. But women sure acted like a currently military Marine was different than a now-civilian one. Or maybe Wojo just don’t put off the right kinda vibes for a Marine anymore. Girls pay alotta attention to vibes. There oughta to be like a tattoo or something that tells women you got a Marine pension, so you don’t gotta tell ’em. Women don’t know about that stuff. There’s no vibe to it.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
“Damn it, that traffic pisst me off, yu know,” Wojo said, plopping his site slip onto Teddy’s desk. He let out a hollow chuckle as he unbuttoned and shrugged off his workshirt. “Fuggett’boutit, yu know.” He shrugged again, his broad shoulders rising up and going down, cuz the workshirt he wore was too small for his wide musculature. His chest tweaked, pecs bouncing and rippling, loosening the beads of sweat clinging to them, which made them drip down his hair-dappled belly. “Man, Teddy, I saw this accident happen, man, it was messt up, swear to God, the car was going this way, and this other car was going that way — maaaan, shiii….” He avoided cursing because he was Christian. He kissed his crucifix, then followed that up with a vociferous series of hand gestures and sound effects that explicated the narrative and its effectuation upon his gestalt, conveyed his sympathy for the victims qua his standpoint’s relation to the incumbent mores of his sociocultural position and satisfyingly exercised the fervor bubbling up from his conception of idiomasculine expression per se. He mimed a steering wheel, careening left and right. “They did that, bam, boom, screeeeeech! Pow! Splat yo, like that, wow, shiiiiip, that was… like, yu know! Whooooah, aww, yo, all ovuh, man. It was messt up, like mad messt up.” He passed to Teddy his truck key and the clipboard with his mileage form. “I got out to help the folks, they wasn’t bad hurt, just shook up, you know, I was like ‘no disrespec’t, man but that was like crazy’, and then the cops showed up.” He undid his belt as though to take his pants off mid-story, then realized he was still wearing his workboots. He held his pants up with his hands as he headed into the locker room, and Teddy followed.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
Books
Wojo’s a big-ass bricklayer with meat to spare, and he’s got a girl on the side… but he’s a Christian man, and he doesn’t mess around with women before marriage. That doesn’t stop him from getting a nut off with the fellers instead! Wojo’s an active top who just needs a passive hole — luckily, there’s plenty of willing passives around!
Can Wojo find what he needs?