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
Author: MNManmacker
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
And they both ignored Andrew’s hands touching they backs and shoulders, ‘long with Andrew’s own dick, firm as marble and stabbing them both in turn in the meat of they torsos. He was like that, he do that. If’n a feller don’t let him rub his dick on ’em in the locker room or sometimes the shower, he gives ’em bunchesa rodent gigs.
Then Andrew stood upon a stool so’s he could stick his dick in Buck’s armpit. He don’t “fornicate”, so’s he did tht’all the time. He need a way to get his nut off that the Bible don’t forbid. Buck don’t care, cuz he was gonna shower in a minute a’ryway. He ain’t pluss ’bout Andrew fucking his armpit like a pussy. Andrew’ll even swallow a feller’s nut if’n you ax him nice.
Not when Deon was ’round though. Buck wondered if’n Andrew do slurp on Deon’s knob when Buck weren’t ’round. Maybe. Maybe he jerk off all the exterminators and Mistah Taggart too.
I just can’t find a bra that fits!
Me neither! They keep jiggling right out!
Buck’s armpit was soaking wet with sweat from the day’s work, and his side and his tricep was firm with hard muscle. That made a nice warm grotto fer Andrew to ram at, and it filled the already mansweat-soaked locker room with the fragrantly salty odor of Buck’s muscles. The sweat lubed up Andrew’s dick, practically erasing the friction of Buck’s body hair. Andrew humped his dick back and forth in his hairy pit, hands exploring Buck’s chest. His furry pecs and shoulders rippled ‘neath Andrew’s tender touch.
Soon ’nuff, by the time the first feller was introduced on screen, the porn star Wesley Gripes — who Deon said was his other cousin, though Buck was chancy ’bout that, cuz homeboys steady claim lotsa cousins — precum was coming outta Andrew’s pecker and spooging up Buck’s chest and armpit hair. Andrew pulled his dick out to avoid cumming too quick, and he dropped his hands from Buck’s chest to his crotch.
Ooh, you’re so big!
That’s right, bitch. Now suck me off.
Deon laughed when the gals onscreen did the same. “He like that, Wesley, he can tell a female she a bitch and somehow she think it’s a joke. He ain’t jokin’ though,” he said, his cock throbbing moistly in his grip. His pecker looked huge on him cuz he was so small.
Meanwhile, Buck leaned back so’s Andrew could jack him off more easy. Andrew had to bend down and forward to reach, which meant his near-orgasmic dick rubbed upon Buck’s firm back. Andrew stayed as still as he could to avoid cumming too quick. That was hard to do with Buck’s muscles roiling and flexing ‘neath Andrew’s shaft.
So’n it was sortuva race, Andrew trying-a not cum hisself but trying-a make Buck blow his nut. Buck thunk Andrew done nut — it was precum, but Buck ain’t notice that. He was focused upon the blonde and the brunette playing with that homeboy Wesley Gripes’s dingdong, the both them sucking on it loud and moist as waves.
A loud grunt came from Buck, whose chest muscles rippled. His back tensed. Jizz spurted onto his chest, followed by a long flow of it that got all the way up to his face.From Buck on Bottom
Both was correct in they own fashion.
B’fore a’ry of ’em knewed it, they drawers was off, and Buck and Deon played with they dingdongs absent-minded-like as they debated the movie’s story. There was a blonde and a brunette. Deon suggested a nigga stay preferring the blonde cuzza her ass, which was like perky possums in a paira pouches, while Buck said the brunette, she got bigger tits, like tasty volleyballs they was. Both was correct in they own fashion.
“Hell yeah, you can tell she puts out too!” Deon said. He stood up outta his camp chair, but that don’t even really make him much taller. Even standing, he was shorter’an the seated Buck. Deon jabbed a finger at the screen. “Whoop that! Fuckin’ white bitches, man, they let you know when they wanna fuck! That bitch wanna fuck!”
B’fore a’ry of ’em knewed it, they drawers was off, and Buck and Deon played with they dingdongs absent-minded-like as they debated the movie’s story. There was a blonde and a brunette. Deon suggested a nigga stay preferring the blonde cuzza her ass, which was like perky possums in a paira pouches, while Buck said the brunette, she got bigger tits, like tasty volleyballs they was. Both was correct in they own fashion.
From Buck on Bottom
John Bob Clay
Mistah Clay stern-booted to them, his face a smash of red and wrinkles like droppt cornbread. He got a ancient crewcut and perpetual grizzle like a overworked albatross, and he still weared his Marine Corps dog tag from long ago. Mistah Clay was the trailer park supervisor and a close friend of Lucy’s pa. He do stop unmarried couples from they fornications, cuz he say it “lowers the tone”. He got a weary, work-hard face that aimed daggers at Buck.
From Buck on Bottom
Buck got big clodhopping feet
“You kept clean in there? Take off ya boots, sugah. Lemme make sh’ore you ain’t bringin’ the athlete’s foot,” Mistah Yancey said. But then b’for’n Buck could do so, Mistah Yancey bent o’er and undid Buck’s boot laces. T’woulda been easier fer Buck to do it, but Mistah Yancey gently pulled the boots off, then his socks. He hefted Buck’s foot, one after t’other, but Buck did the work of lifting his legs. Buck got big clodhopping feet with a strip of black hairs running up the top and a tuft of hair upon each toe. The toe tufts growed smaller but no sparser from the big toes to the li’l ones. Mistah Yancey wrinkled his nose, but he inhaled with gusto and don’t move away none.
From Buck on Bottom
the soma and the pneuma
“Hmmm,” Mistah Yancey said with a vague but comfortable cluck of his tongue, a sound that gestured at and acknowledged the futility of combatting the creep of caducity, that communicated and demonstrated his compassion at a socioculturally appropriate level and that constituted and signified his acceptance of the inevitable entropy of the soma and the pneuma. He sipped deep from his wine. “You look well. You worked out in prison?”
“How is your grammaw, Buck?” Mistah Yancey axed. He sat back down with his wine.
“Grammaw Daisy, she doin’ fine, reckon, I ain’t seed her in a spell. She ain’t do no vis’tation in prison, on accounta she don’t drive. But she did call me, and she sent me pitchers. In the mail. She gots a liver thang. Doctuh say she need pills, but you know how she is, she discotton to takin’ pills.”
“Hmmm,” Mistah Yancey said with a vague but comfortable cluck of his tongue, a sound that gestured at and acknowledged the futility of combatting the creep of caducity, that communicated and demonstrated his compassion at a socioculturally appropriate level and that constituted and signified his acceptance of the inevitable entropy of the soma and the pneuma. He sipped deep from his wine. “You look well. You worked out in prison?”From Buck on Bottom
It was like godzilla losing to Dallas and Fort Worth at the same time!
Steel closed his eyes and pictured that Gemima, she weren’t in Lipsweet tonight but she was a couple weeks ago and Steel went back to her place and he fucked her up the pussy til she said she couldn’t take it no more. He nutted four times that night. Four! Last one was just some titty-fucking, cuz she said she was done by then, but still, she got huge titties, so that was fine. It was like godzilla losing to Dallas and Fort Worth at the same time!
Steel closed his eyes and pictured that Gemima, she weren’t in Lipsweet tonight but she was a couple weeks ago and Steel went back to her place and he fucked her up the pussy til she said she couldn’t take it no more. He nutted four times that night. Four! Last one was just some titty-fucking, cuz she said she was done by then, but still, she got huge titties, so that was fine. It was like godzilla losing to Dallas and Fort Worth at the same time!
every week the shit’s higher, hows gettin’ whyer
He was keeping it real, keeping it tight, let sleeping tits lie, his feeling hits rye, the bottle’s a liar, steeples inspire, God’s turtles is dire, this nigga’s feet spits fire, and every week the shit’s higher, hows gettin’ whyer, buyers flipping whiter hips for hire. Steel do now sit in the wisdom of God’s pyre.
Goober let Steel into the police station proper and then led him into the backa it. That was where the jailhouse sat. A couple flickersome lights cast long shadows, it seemed like every light was aimed at Steel’s eyes. Brightness drilling like a roughneck. Nigga need a beer. His head hurt. He wasn’t hungover, this was just the way he was now, this is what it is to be sober. The drunk tank was up front, it was the big cell that smelled like vomit and got like thirty guys in it passed out. Steel wished he was one of ’em. Then there was a couple one-off cells, prolly empty but it was hard to see in the dark wanna drink wanna drink wanna drink good god Steel maintained though, he was keeping it real, keeping it tight, let sleeping tits lie, his feeling hits rye, the bottle’s a liar, steeples inspire, God’s turtles is dire, this nigga’s feet spits fire, and every week the shit’s higher, hows gettin’ whyer, buyers flipping whiter hips for hire. Steel do now sit in the wisdom of God’s pyre.
Not really cuz Steel apparently don’t know what pyre means, that was gonna sound wise as fuck, it don’t make sense now that he googled it. Don’t google it. But you know, you can figure it out. It’s in the bible, all the wisdoms in the universe is in the bible.
So come-to-me-bro turned to come-at-me-brah, and he and him switched from brothers in Christ to niggas in crisis
Lotta niggas enter the halfway home thinking they’s on the pretend about following the straight and narrow. But things you pretend are true have a way of coming true, so Steel let that lie lie.
Or he let it lay. He done lain it to lie. Whatever, Steel don’t call Tyrell out on coming home stoned, but he did call him out on slinging. He did it supportive-like, but Tyrell don’t take it nice, so come-to-me-bro turned to come-at-me-brah, and he and him switched from brothers in Christ to niggas in crisis. Tyrell be flipping hot. Steel wanna brawl-a-boom hard, but he kept it cool, calm and collected. He kept Tyrell talking about quitting. Even if it was a lie, it was a step on the road to real quitting.
Lotta niggas enter the halfway home thinking they’s on the pretend about following the straight and narrow. But things you pretend are true have a way of coming true, so Steel let that lie lie.
Or he let it lay. He done lain it to lie. Whatever, Steel don’t call Tyrell out on coming home stoned, but he did call him out on slinging. He did it supportive-like, but Tyrell don’t take it nice, so come-to-me-bro turned to come-at-me-brah, and he and him switched from brothers in Christ to niggas in crisis. Tyrell be flipping hot. Steel wanna brawl-a-boom hard, but he kept it cool, calm and collected. He kept Tyrell talking about quitting. Even if it was a lie, it was a step on the road to real quitting.