“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.
Author: MNManmacker
Wojo the Bricklayer
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?
The Cuckold Strikes Back
When Rick Stabler walks in on his wife with a big black alpha, he panics, pulls a gun and turns this cuckolding upside down! Tyrell Brickley never thought banging this white chick would lead to him giving up the booty!
Can Rick take what he needs to reclaim his masculinity?
Franco (Sucio) Hernández
Franco (Sucio) Hernández is an inmate.
Dude was one of those muscle-bound burrito-shaped Mexicans whose shoulderblades was as wide as their whole body was tall.
From Wayne the Ex-Cop
Pavel Nowak
Pavel is a circus strongman. He is from Pittsburgh.
Pavel was the circus strongman, and he too was one of the most extreme men in the country — he was both tallest and biggest. Pavel was a Polish-American boy of nearly twenty years old, already seven feet tall and still growing. He had a farmwork-toned body that he kept building as they traveled, lifting weights at every opportunity, both onstage and off. He was a boisterous, adventurous man, domineering and brash, macho and more than a bit intimidating when he wanted to be. He was billed as The Pumped Pollack of Pennsylvania. His thick mustache twitched.
From The Circus Strongman
Lipsweet of Chicago
Lipsweet of Chicago
Wilma Trammel
His manager was a dumpety chowder-white lady with enough meat for ten or eleven tits divided unequally between the standard two. Bitch got a body like a diseased balloon animal, and she clutched a clipboard and a rinky-dink computer phone-like device. Everything she did she marked down on a to-do list on the clipboard willingly, then she did it on the computer thing as though someone had a gun to her head.
From Thumper on Parole
“¡Ay ay!”
One bedroom had a sheet strung up through the middle of it. And in the center of that sheet was a hole. Exactly what Bernardo had described. It stank of jizz in here, an odor that made Cody wrinkle his nose. He couldn’t deny it did make him horny though. It reminded him of a brothel, and Cody’d had more than his fair share of fun at those.
Bernardo walked right up to the sheet and put a ten dollar bill in the hole. Someone — or maybe a machine — took it, then Bernardo unzipped the fly of his jeans. He ain’t even pull his pants down, he just flopped his pecker in through the hole. His eyes lit up, and his knees went weak. “¡Ay ay!”
Nimbo (Maricio) Patiñez
Anthony liked Nimbo a lot. Everybody did — or at least women did. Nimbo was lightly tattooed for a cholo, and he had neat hair and dimples you could wash a car in. He was muscular but not huge or bulgey — he played on a soccer team, a real one. He had thighs like crazy, an ass as hard as granite, with a pair of giant cheeks that looked too big for his frame.
And he always wore cologne. He smelled great. Anthony blushed whenever Nimbo was around. He had an aura of desire, radiating charisma like the sun. He moved like he needed to use all of his muscles just to take a step. Anthony had trouble not staring at him, watching the curves of his body. Luckily Nimbo was drinking and distracted by the woman, so he didn’t notice Anthony’s relentless stare.
Hombrito culo
He knew culo was ass. He done pick up on that. What was a hombrito culo?
Much to his surprise, one of those Mexicans mounted Sazonito, who situated a pillow under his belly, near his crotch, like it was a plastic pussy and he was gonna fuck it. The pillow propped up his ass at an angle.
That angle also made his asscheeks separate enough that Cody caught another strong whiff of his masculine aroma, joined by the scent of the other Mexican who got behind him. He kneeled behind Sazonito, lining his cock up with Sazonito’s ass.
Cody sucked in his breath. Was this normal? Was he gonna stick his dick in Sazonito’s ass?
It was Nelson who mounted Sazonito. Nelson was the oldest in the apartment. He was wiry and short, wrinkled but powerfully built, like a dehydrated weightlifter. He mounted Sazonito’s massively muscled body from behind and slid his limp cock into Sazonito’s asscrack.
“Aaaah…” Cody’s eyes opened wide. What the sam hill was going on? What Mexican craziness was this? He wanna stand and jump up and down — if he was surrounded by his own kind, that’s what he would do.
But the Mexicans were all treating this as normal, and Cody didn’t want to look like a squeamish, giddy anglo.
As far as Cody knew, no man who went to prison would bare his ass, raised up like that! And Sazonito was just doing it! Letting Nelson get in position to stick it in him! Cody still weren’t even sure that cornholing was a real thing, and apparently it was just happening, easy as pancakes!
“!Ay ay!”
Sazonito’s asscrack was warm and slightly wet with sweat, and the butthairs gave a little friction, it seemed. Nelson humped Sazonito’s buttcrack while watching the teevee screen, and he used both hands to squeeze Sazonito’s meaty cheeks against each other, his wrinkled old knob in between ’em.
It took Cody a few seconds to realize that’s what a hombrito culo was — not cornholing, it was just humping the buttcrack. It must be a prison thing. Or a Mexican thing, since they all knew about it but weren’t all ex-cons. Or maybe it was a Latin Kings thing.
From Roommates in the Dark