MN Manmacker's mansploitation
Angus frowned. Bart spoke in a way he found most unfamiliar, his accent being neither New England nor New York nor Canadian — the only accents Angus was familiar with. It was vaguely British but not convincingly so. He didn’t think he was from the South either. Angus’s accent, on the other hand, delighted Bart. His baritone voice had a trace of holler and a hefty dose of yip, but it was long and low like an elegant moo. It sent a frisson of desire up Angus’s spine.
From The Dairyman
Wuzu’s voice was clear as a lighthouse. “Good evening, Mister Flowers. May I enter?” His Japanese accent was thick: goo-ood eve-en-nin Missuhtaa Flao-za with the rhythm of an elegant machine gun. Despite that, he wasn’t hard to understand.
Wuzu’s voice was clear as a lighthouse. “Good evening, Mister Flowers. May I enter?” His Japanese accent was thick: goo-ood eve-en-nin Missuhtaa Flao-za with the rhythm of an elegant machine gun. Despite that, he wasn’t hard to understand.
From The Yakuza Bottoms
His thick Boston stawk made it sound like his mouth was full of cranberries. When he spoke, his Boston accent either aroused Desmond or made him laugh, it was hard to tell.
His thick Boston stawk made it sound like his mouth was full of cranberries. When he spoke, his Boston accent either aroused Desmond or made him laugh, it was hard to tell.
From The Boston Alpha
You wanna hear something funny? Go find an episode of Masterchef, maybe season seven or eight or so, a young Chinese man fucks up. You will never hear anything funnier than a sobbing Chinaman attempting to say ‘crispy texture’, it’s hilarious.
You wanna hear something funny? Go find an episode of Masterchef, maybe season seven or eight or so, a young Chinese man fucks up. You will never hear anything funnier than a sobbing Chinaman attempting to say ‘crispy texture’, it’s hilarious. Clits pee a tax tour, y’all!
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
He hated “sh’uhin'” with Buck and his ugly knob.
Buck sniffed his armpit and wrinkled his nose. “Cuz I need a sh’uh.”
Smooches also wished Buck would pronounce shower correctly. He hated “sh’uhin'” with Buck and his ugly knob.
“You gotta finish our laundry still, I’s tired of wearin’ dirty shirts, and I’s nearabout outta drawers.”
“You gotta finish our laundry still, I’s tired of wearin’ dirty shirts, and I’s nearabout outta drawers.” That made Lem laugh, cuz the way Buck said drawers was funny: “dra’ueuhiuhs”. That word went upon forever, despite Buck not pronouncing mosta it. Buck frowned at Lem but spoke to Habib. “And redd up the flo’oh.”
From Buck on the Oil Rig
“Numbuhs ain’t my strong suit, Simon.”
“I got no math skills, okay? Ya daddy, he tells me the figgahs to collect, but sometimes he gets aftuh me, I vexes him fer sho’, on account of me not exactementay doin’ it right. Addin’ it up, or like…” He paused and bristled. “You’d think he do be saying, oh go rassimble ten dollah from Monjwa Prêteur. But it ain’t, it’s more go get ten pehcent of this or get five pehcent of it wort’ outta sugah from de mill, and ya gotta convuht between dollahs and pounds of sookuh,” Buck said. “And sometimes folks be payin’ in fuckin’ bushels of cohn or automo-bile ti’es or some shit, and I ain’t… Numbuhs ain’t my strong suit, Simon.”
Simon ain’t never seen Buck blush before, but beneath his scruffy chin and cheeks, rouge deluged his skin. Simon patted him on the arm, clad in cotton and with palpable hairs beneath the fabric. Simon smiled too, because he liked hearing Buck swear — Simon was still young, and men often didn’t swear in front of him. Additionally, Simon enjoyed hearing Buck say ‘tires’: tiha’uhz. He fit a universe of vowels into that word.
Her lipstick was smudged onto the tips of her teeth, but Sasha was too much the gentleman to point it out.
She attempted to conceal her holler-tinted drawl by over-enunciating, but her articulatory efforts only accentuated the drawn-out vowels and country-soft consonants of her palabras. Her lipstick was smudged onto the tips of her teeth, but Sasha was too much the gentleman to point it out.
“See? Total retard. Thick as custard. Not instant custard either, the proper stuff.”
“Oh, wait, wait, you gotta hear this, I took this lugnut to an antique store,” Mr. Gregarian said amid a pile of chortles. “Hey Rocky, say ‘I’ll meet you at the rare mirror area’.”
Rocky rolled his eyes and flared his nostrils. Then, enunciating as clearly as possible, he said, “Uiiih’ll meet’choo — meet you — at de — at the — rauuuh mee — raimmerrruh — air me ruh-“
“See? Total retard. Thick as custard. Not instant custard either, the proper stuff.”
From Rocky the Bouncer