Category: Buck Sampson

A man’s gotta have composure

Vietnam was like a stencil in his mind, inscribing itself upon a’ry sensation that sat still long ’nuff.

The jailhouse seemed solitatious and dark, cavernous in its stillness, the air moist and dense. T’was silent, yet Buck heard the jungle crickets and screeching nightbirds of Vietnam. He knewed them sounds wasn’t real, but he ain’t pluss ’bout it. Buck got composure, that was why. A man’s gotta have composure. Anytime the world quieted, his mind ran o’er with memories, rearing they head whenever nothing real could muscle ’em out. Vietnam was like a stencil in his mind, inscribing itself upon a’ry sensation that sat still long ’nuff.

From Buck the Conservative

A peremptory conception of so-called manhood

T’was Buck’s turn to snort like a jaded pony and make a masturbatory hand gesture.

T’was Buck’s turn to snort like a jaded pony and make a masturbatory hand gesture, which combined to signify his belief in the mutability of socially constructed roles qua the fulfillment of incumbent sociocultural systems and functions, strength and dominance as determiners per se of masculine hierarchies and the civilizational sine qua non of a peremptory conception of so-called manhood to staunch the onslaught of Leviathan.

From Buck the Dumbass

Kareem should just get tougher, if his bootyhole hurts too bad

A real man handled his shit and ain’t avoid a fight from a bigger man, Buck do say. He knew that was easy for him to say, as he was the bigger man in every interaction. But still, a man shouldn’t run.

Buck had no idea that Kareem was avoiding him and Lem — if he knew, he’d have told Kareem that was a rank pussy move.
A real man handled his shit and ain’t avoid a fight from a bigger man, Buck do say.
He knew that was easy for him to say, as he was the bigger man in every interaction. But still, a man shouldn’t run. Kareem should just get tougher, if his bootyhole hurts too bad.

From Buck the Roughneck

A man shouldn’t be a virgin on his wedding day

Mr. Gregarian wanted Simon to go to church and to learn that pre-marital sex was wrong, and he wanted Simon to believe in all that stuff. But he wanted Simon to fuck a broad.

“But uh, you gotta — you gotta find a female, ya daddy want you to have a girlfriend,” Buck said.
Simon stopped with Buck’s dong throbbing on his face. He looked up at Buck. “What about them? Kendra and Caroline. They’re my friends,” he said.
“Yeah, but they’s rank bitches. They ain’t Armenian. You don’t fuck ’em-“
“I’m not married to them! I’m not supposed to fuck them,” Simon said, blushing. “That’s a sin! I go to church!”

“I know, but…” Buck couldn’t think of how to explain it. Mr. Gregarian wanted Simon to go to church and to learn that pre-marital sex was wrong, and he wanted Simon to believe in all that stuff.
But he wanted Simon to fuck a broad. A man shouldn’t be a virgin on his wedding day. He should be ashamed of himself for it, but he shouldn’t be a virgin anyway.

From Simon and the Bouncers

A man oughta choose his own way

“Don’t let ya woman control you. She ain’t even ya woman, Smooches. You gettin’ distracted by potential skirt.”

Buck shrugged. “A man oughta choose his own way,” he said. “Don’t let ya woman control you. She ain’t even ya woman, Smooches. You gettin’ distracted by potential skirt.” Buck chuckled. Buck swung his hips left and right to make his foot-long slab slap against his thighs. He laughed like a kid at the slappity-thwack sound it made.

From Buck the Conservative

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!

He mighta been made outta old coffee grounds

Don’choo tell me I smell like coffee grounds, you smell like a turtle, Buckums.

Buck bunked down in that dead-end with this old black feller the color of coffee grounds, smelled like ’em too, shit he mighta been made outta old coffee grounds. Buck told that man — his name was Lem — that one evening after they day off, when they done come back to they bunk.
“You hillbilly sucka, you don’t tell me-” Lem drunk from his flask. He stayed drinking from that flask, hiding it when he could get away with it, like he thinked Buck’s hillbilly eyes don’t see. “-don’t tell me I smell like coffee grounds, you smell like a turtle, Buckums.”

From The Redneck Ex-Con, Cellmate Memories and Overwhelming Manhood