Author: MNManmacker

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

Arthur takes a hit

Arthur sighed and nodded. He put down the weights and stood up, then took off his sweatshirt, even though the gym was cold now that it was empty. His chowder white chest was pale, and goosebumps dappled his arms. He flexed his pecs and abs.
Buck punched Arthur in the gut. Not that hard the first time, but hard nuff to make Arthur’s chest ripple.
“You okay?”
Arthur nodded. “I’m fine — I can fight, Buck. I can. Them glasses woulda-” He oomphed as Buck’s fist collided with his belly once more. “They woulda got broke if I fought that man too.”
“Uh-huh,” Buck said. Again, again and again, Buck punched him in the stomach. Then Buck paused to make sh’ore Arthur weren’t plussing. Arthur stayed still with his arms flexed, hands gripping each other behind his back. Arthur’s face was tense, his perfect six-pack ruddying up with each smack.
Arthur bit back a grunt. He stonefaced, as punch after punch landed upon his gut. Ruddy skin and blooming bruises spread o’er his midsection.
“A’ight, you done good,” Buck said when his shoulders begun to weary.
Then when Arthur took a breath and relaxed, Buck let loose as hard as he could, driving a fat fist into Arthur’s flat belly. Arthur oomphed that one down and doubled o’er, but he took it okay. Buck laughed, patted him on the back with one hand and twisted his nipple with t’other.

From Fists, Men and Muscles

A prudent nigga

So Thumper walked all rappy-dapper, like his rickety walk was a gangsta lean, as he brought the other two to the back porch, where a sheet-curtained corner got a hole in the sheet and a nigga sticking his dick in that hole. That duckydoo nigga was moaning like a moist walrus when they got there, his voice breaking and him rabbit-ramming his crotch at the sheet.
His jiggly asscheeks was covered by his pants — he ain’t drop his pants, just undone the fly — a prudent nigga wouldn’t bare his butthole in a place like this — but that duckydoo nigga got giant meaty cheeks jiggling up a quake in them pants. “C’mon, swallow it, bitch, swallow, ah, fuck yeah… You slut…” he murmured with a sneer.
“There ain’t no pretty lady on the other side of that hole, Thump,” Jaekwel said when he and Deon added up what they was seeing and what Thumper done said. The ram-face nigga with his dick in the hole pulled it out, and his shaft gleamed with spit and droplets of his own nutjuice. He glanced over at Jaekwel and them like they was assholes for walking in here before he was done.

From Thumper the Mover

Making bigger manhood

“He says if I rub our manhoods together, it will make mine bigger,” Faisal said.
That was another Arab idea Omar ain’t never cotton to but stopped arguing with. Lotta Muslims in prison did that — they thought rubbing dicks together made the smaller one bigger, like rubbing sticks to make a fire, shit, it was dumb. Conversely, they thought ramrodding a man made that man’s dick smaller and the ram’s bigger. That was also dumb.
But Omar wouldn’t say that now. Faisal’d tell Mister Alzam, and Omar would have to endure a lengthy lecture about how all that was in the Koran or something. Mister Alzam didn’t like to be contradicted.
And Omar was used to it anyway. More than a handful of pinkie-dicked Arabs had rubbed their peckers on his in that prison.
So he let Faisal hump his cock. Omar shrugged and grabbed another of the stack of flatbread. He smeared it into the olive oil and parsley sauce that came with it, and he, for the first time, tried to pay attention to the soccer game. The one team was beating the other one, 1-0.
His cock flopped like a sad baseball bat in Faisal’s hands. Faisal got hard easy enough — his dick worked, it was just small — like a baby carrot — but then he struggled to actually cum. His cock rubbed against the root of Omar’s dick, and the tip didn’t even extend halfway to the knob. Faisal held it upright with two fingers so it was firm enough to rub against.

From Omar the Muslim

Not a Muslim lady

There was a sheet strung up on the side of one abandoned trailer. Most of the way down on the sheet was a hole. Omar had seen this before. The Vasquenzas had one in prison — it was called a gloryhole in English — the Vasquenzas made each of their new hombres work the gloryhole for one free-time block.
“There’s a whore on the other side. Not Muslim, it’s fine,” Mister Alzam said with a proud nod. He handed money to the burly man standing nearby, then he sniffled and approached the sheet. He unzipped his pants. His cock unfurled and dropped into the gloryhole. He gripped the sheet the best he could — it was stretched taut, so he couldn’t really hold onto it. There was no wall on the other side to grip onto.
He had that massive pubic bush, which made Omar both sneer in disgust and chuckle to himself. Arabs were so hairy, it was disgusting. They’re like people who never finished evolving outta gorillas. He stayed far away and faced the other direction. This was all some low-rent shit.

From Omar the Muslim

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.

From Buck the Trailer Trash

Cody gets warm

Cody was plenty warm now, with his blankets and Buck’s, and his little feet resting in Buck’s crotch, he fell asleep in Buck’s arms. Once the prison staff got the heat back on, Cody was warm enough to take off most of his clothes in the night. It was the most comfortable sleep he’d had since he got here.
He woke up when something hard touched his legs. Cody ain’t realize what it was at first or why it had woken him up. His head rested on Buck’s forearm, and he smelled Buck’s armpit. He wrinkled his nose.
Buck was moving. His giant meaty hand caressed Cody’s chest.
“Hmmmmmmmmm… Looossshhy…” Buck murmured — that was his girlfriend’s name: Lucy.
Cody realized that hard thing rubbing on and between his thighs was Buck’s thirteen-inch peenga. It was hot, hard and wet with precum. Cody squirmed, but Buck was drunk and sleeping deeply.
“Buck, Buck, wake up,” Cody said.
He was just a bit too slow though. Buck blinked his eyes open and groaned like he was in pain, moments before his cock slammed between Cody’s legs. It jutted towards Cody’s own crotch. Creamy cum spurted up, coating Cody’s dick and his chest.
“Ew, Buck!”
“Sorry, buddy…” Buck said, bleary-eyed and yawnsome, but he ain’t stop. He kept humping Cody’s legs. “Sorry, I was-” He moaned into Cody’s ear as another cumwad spurted up onto Cody’s chest. “I was dreamin’-“

From Buck & Cody Locked Up Again

Heat on rig

Most nights, Buck and Lem showered with each other. This was the winter contract, which was understaffed — more than half of the roughnecks here a couple days ago had left during their leave. Buck didn’t realize how many fewer workers there would be. That was because, Lem explained, the rig was less efficient in the winter, and Mr. Chow actually lost money pumping oil until it warmed up. He kept it going regardless because otherwise the rig would fall apart and be inoperable in the spring, but it continued with a skeleton crew mainly tasked with maintenance. The drill did run, and oil was pumped, but only the minimum needed every day to ensure smooth operation.
Otherwise it was a lot of cleaning, inventory, weatherproofing, organizing, etc. It was intensely boring and not much work. The chill was intense in the unheated corridors now that it was winter. Buck got a thrill out of walking to the shower every night, which he still did in his briefs and sandals (though he now wore his sandals with two pairs of socks). He thought it was hilarious how steamy his chest was, and it set his heart racing. Most night it was literally cold enough to take his breath away, and he could barely breathe the whole way to and from the shower.
Lem did not do that. He was leaner and lankier than Buck, and like the other roughnecks, Lem wore several layers of clothes in the corridors. So Buck got naked in the showers in seconds, while Lem lazily undressed and smoked a cigarette (which he did only to annoy Buck, because Buck kept hassling him about hurrying up).

From Buck the Roughneck

Let’s wrassle!

“Shut up, Buck!” Cody grinned and jumped off the top bunk onto Buck’s shoulders, as Buck, still naked, was reaching for his foot powder. “Let’s wrassle!” Cody tried to sit on Buck’s shoulders, but he was still wet, and Cody slipped down to clutch him piggyback. Cody wore sweatpants and a heavy shirt, but his feet was bare and dug into Buck’s side as he tried to keep a stable hold on his wet flesh. The jostling made Buck’s jigglesome schlong sling back and forth.
“Is the Salisbury steak good?” Buck said, foot powder in hand, with Cody climbing on his back. Cody gripped his head and squealed as he almost fell. His feet pummeled Buck’s moist back, attempting to keep a tight hold.
Kax flared his nostrils. “No. Is it evah?” He looked up from his manga to see Cody climbing Buck’s back like a mountain. Buck waggled his dick — he was going to apply foot powder to his balls, so he was handling his junk, but Cody’s jostling made him stop to avoid spilling the foot powder.
“It’s okay sometimes, I had it good before. My grandmoms used to make good Salisbury steak,” Buck said. He ignored Cody wrestling with him from behind. They used to wrestle for real, when they was both the same size. Then Buck kept growing. So now when they “wrestled”, Buck basically ain’t participate. Cody tried to do pro-wrestling moves to his boulder-like buddy, and Buck gamely let him.
“Only good thing they make is here the tacos. And the chicken nuggets is okay,” Kax said. He put down his manga and laid on his side to face Buck and Cody. He got a comb sticking outta his afro, and he looked stoned, though it wasn’t clear if that was a perpetual expression or if he was managing to smoke weed on the downlow in here.
“Oooooooh, man, dawgie, shit, I can eat me some chicken nuggets. I could eat a mountain of chicken nuggets,” Buck said. He gestured with one arm to show how big the mountain of chicken nuggets could be, as Cody gripped him by the neck and trampled his back with his bare feet. Buck held his carton of foot powder in his hand, so every time Cody kicked him, white powder puffed out the top. “I was in Maryland State awhile back, man, they got chicken nuggets that was good as hell, you wouldn’t even believe it-“
“Got you, Buck!” Cody said. His tiny arm put Buck in a headlock, which ain’t slow Buck down at all. Buck got animated about prison food, and his hefty-lad voice boomed out, oblivious to Cody’s arm across his neck. “Got you in a double-headlock! You can’t get out of it! It’s impossible!”
“-better than McDonald’s, man, swear to God. But they ain’t barely give you none, you only get like four.” Buck held up four fingers on one hand, his other still holding his foot powder. Cody had one thin forearm around Buck’s neck. “And they ain’t big. So I was goin’ aftuh ’em in the kitchen, like sayin’ — there’s lotta little guys in there, right, they ain’t need all that. Some of ’em don’t even finish ’em!”
“I’m gonna suplex you, Buck,” Cody said. He pulled on Buck’s mullet. Buck ignored him, so Cody dropped to the floor and got himself in position to use his twiggy arms to pick up Buck’s massive frame. He even tried — his little muscles flexed as he pushed on Buck’s flesh — but he couldn’t even shove Buck much less pick him up. “Gonna smash you on the floor!”
“But this screwface say I can’t take ’em from the specs or he put me on light-time work detail, and I ain’t gonna get my early release,” Buck said, a hand gesture — fingers forming lenses in front of his eyes — indicating that ‘specs’ meant ‘guys wearing glasses’. Cody ascended Buck’s back again and pulled his hair while pretending to shiv him in the belly. “So I tol’ the kitchen feller, I oughta get more than four, y’know. My dick can eat four chicken nuggets, and it ain’t even got a mouth,” Buck said. Kax laughed.
“Did they give you any more?” Kax asked.
Buck shook his head, his shaggy mullet going back and forth. “Nah, the kitchen feller say he ain’t allowed ‘nless’n I get the doctor to say it, and the doctor, he don’t say it. He just gimme extra carrot stick. I’s like, carrots ain’t nevuh gonna fill me up, doc. You need-a gimme a whole carrot farm if you want me to stop askin’ for more. I bought buncha sardines in the commissary. Sardines is little, but they fills ya up.” Cody hugged Buck’s naked pecs from behind and shimmied him like a tree. “Ow, Cody, you pullin’ my chest hair out.”
Cody finally stopped wriggling, arms hugging Buck’s shoulders and riding him piggyback. “Put ya drawers on, Buck! Your dong is so ugly!”
“I’s tryin’-a put my drawers on, Cody! I gotta powder my balls first, but you keep pullin’ my hair ‘nd shit.” Buck swayed his body left and right, at first trying to shake Cody off him, then helicoptering his dick so it slapped his thighs.
Kax sat up. “Yo, they the same way here — you get five chicken nuggets. They pretty big. It ain’t that bad. The spaghetti is the bad one, oh dawg, it is awful, and it’s all sauce — sauce is mostly water — it’s basically tomato soup wit’ some noodles in it. They say it got meat, but I don’t taste no meat. Mostly water.” He paused. “You get bread though, with that one.”
The smell of medicinal foot powder filled the air as Buck dumped some out into the palm of one hand. A cloud of it spilled out. He stood on one foot to powder the other foot. “Man, is the doctor cool? I gotta get more foot powder, and the nurse tol’ me-“
“He puts it on his balls too!” Cody said, still riding Buck’s back and poking him in the ribs with his feet. His face was right next to Buck’s. “He uses so much, it’s crazy!”
Nostrils flaring, Buck said, “Yeah — Cody, get off me. I gotta — I can tell him ’bout my balls.”
“You talk soooo slow!” Cody said. He again pantomimed like he was stabbing Buck in the belly. Cody’s little arms could barely reach around his barrel chest. His feet was resting on Buck’s asscheeks, which was now dry enough he could clutch the skin with his toes. “Hey, Kax, we’re gonna brew some hooch. We need sugar and canned peaches and mashed-potato flakes and apple juice and a bucket and a funnel and sliced apples and baby carrots-“
“We don’t need all that, and shut the fuck up, Cody!” Buck said. “Don’t say that so loud.” He looked at Kax. “Are they strict about prison hooch here?”
Kax shook his head. “Nah. Officer Messypants will make you dump it out if he see it. Most of ’em don’t care though,” he said. “You can’t sell it to none of the Mexicans, or the Latin Kings’ll shank you.”
“Okay.” Buck lifted up his giant meaty dick so he could finally powder his balls, only for Cody to laugh and shake Buck’s back, making him spill all the powder on his hand. “Get off me, Cody!” Buck shook him off as Cody cackled. He dropped off Buck’s back and smacked Buck’s cuelows. He again moved as though to suplex Buck and slam him on the ground. Cody strained to pick up his giant buddy, who outweighed him by some two hundred pounds. Kax snickered at the sight, while Buck got his balls powdered.

From Buck & Cody Locked Up Again

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