MN Manmacker's mansploitation
omen expect a nigga to make ‘em happy, so if a nigga is glum, she gonna think he won’t ever make her happy.
Rico did got dimples cute as a baby otter, bitches love that. Maybe his frowns turn ‘em off though. Women expect a nigga to make ‘em happy, so if a nigga is glum, she gonna think he won’t ever make her happy. Thumper did tell Rico that, that he gotsta be more agreeable, but Rico plussed, cuzza him not liking it when old niggas tell him what to do.
From Deep on the Downlow
You done piss me off! And that’s why I is makin’ you go through with it,” Thumper said. That part weren’t true, he was always gonna make Rico do it. A nigga should fuck a ugly bitch sometimes. That’s what it means to keep it real. Niggas don’t explain, you gotsta figger it out. “You can’t back out now.”
“I don’t wanna fuck with Jamella,” Rico said. Thumper ain’t tell him he set up a threesome til it was too late for Rico to back out.
“Uh-huh,” Thumper said with a shrug. “You don’t gotta enjoy it. Get drunk first. It’ll be okay. You can just lick her pussy while I fuck her-“
“Ewwwcck, no way!”
“You ain’t lemme finish, nigga,” Thumper said. He waited until Rico quieted his frown, then Thumper said, “You can lick her pussy while I fuck her gooo-ood.”
“I ain’t doin’ that,” Rico said. He shook his head like a owl. “No way. That’s so nasty.”
“You don’t lick pussy?”
“Not while a old nigga is fuckin’ it!”
“Aw, c’mon, nigga. I’ll let you slurp on my dick,” Thumper said.
“No!” Rico screwed up his face like a screw. “I wanna go to a New Year’s party,” he said. “I’m sure there’s a bunch. I saw some on LocalNights.” Rico paused. “That’s that app-“
“What’d I say ’bout tellin’ me to get a app-?” Thumper wagged his finger at Rico.
“I didn’t say to download it! I just said what it is!” He threw his hands up.
“You is — shit, nigga — I don’t wanna hear about no app! I wanna do things the right way!”
“Okay, okay, okay-“
Thumper side-eyed Rico. “Watchin’ videos of other niggas playing video games, shit, nigga…”
“I’m not, I didn’t! I didn’t put that on!” Rico said. He gestured to the teevee, which was off. “Damn, old nigga!”
“You done piss me off! And that’s why I is makin’ you go through with it,” Thumper said. That part weren’t true, he was always gonna make Rico do it. A nigga should fuck a ugly bitch sometimes. That‘s what it means to keep it real. Niggas don’t explain, you gotsta figger it out. “You can’t back out now.”
“It’s not backing out, I never agreed! I You only just told me.”
“That’s right, I told you.” Thumper grabbed Rico’s ass through his clean jeans. His white bitch was with her girlfriends tonight. They got a New Year’s Eve tradition, and it don’t involve sucking Rico’s dick, so he got nothing to do.
“Get off me, old nigga!” Rico said, slapping Thumper’s hand away. “I’s serious, that old bitch is ugly! I don’t wanna fuck her!”
“I’ll turn the lights off,” Thumper said. And he meant that too. Jamella weren’t ugly, but she was prettier in the dark. He ain’t yet say that Rico was gonna hafta lick her asshole to open it up, so Thumper could fuck it. Thumper do that hisself most times, but he was tired of the taste, and Rico got a nice clean tongue.
From Deep on the Downlow
It’s the single limpest-dick thing to ever exist.
Inside the apartment, Jamella said something incomprehensivish and snuggled onto the couch, where she fell asleep fast as a drunk bitch on a couch. Thumper stood there like a disappointed nigga with a hardon and a sigh lingering in his lungs.
“What’s wrong?” Rico asked. He done microwave up a “uncrustable”. You hearda that? It’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but it comes frozen and don’t got no crust on the bread. It’s the single limpest-dick thing to ever exist. A uncrustable is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for niggas whose mamas don’t love ‘em. Weak as lipton tea. Shit’s bullshit, nigga.
From Deep on the Downlow
Lipton tea and Uncrustables are trademarks of the whoever, I dunno, look it up yourselves, dumbasses.
The jawn was bumping. It was nice that they ain’t gotta walk nowhere, just go down the stairs and boop, there they was, in Lipsweet, surrounded by girls in tight things that showed off they other things. They got asses too!
Girls got nice asses now! Asses got better in the thirty-four years Thumper was in prison. Tits is flabbier though, and lips got worse. Why did lips even change?
And eyebrows!? Back before, ain’t no man ever notice a woman’s eyebrows. Shit, if you surveyed men, they wouldn’t even remember if women got eyebrows. But women done spent the last thirty-four years coming up with innovative and unattractive things to do to they eyebrows.
From Deep on the Downlow
Carson wore a nice shirt he buttoned up like a white man. Or maybe niggas did that now, shit’s bullshit.
He got showed to his new apartment by this nigga Carson, a bullet-shape darkskin homeboy who ran the Bloods of Allentown. Carson wore a nice shirt he buttoned up like a white man. Or maybe niggas did that now, shit’s bullshit. Back before, ain’t no nigga button up a shirt. Not a proper nigga anyway.
Maybe the top button, if you’s a California nigga. But Thumper don’t mess with the West Coast.
From Deep on the Downlow
Wojo don’t mind a gold-digger. So long as she loves him, she can spend all the money, he don’t care. Just give him an allowance to buy lunch every day at work. Couplea shirts at Christmas. That’s all he needs.
Sandra never knew he made good money. Wojo thought bragging was trashy. Bricklayers make good money, plus he got a Marine Corps pension. He needta spend more money to look like a good provider, he thought. That was ironic though, cuz if he spent money, he’d have less, and he wouldn’t be such a good provider anymore.
And he don’t know what else to spend money on. If he had a woman, he’d shower her with like jewels and stuff. Makeup. Those dumbass handbags that cost like ten grand. Mad expensive. Should he have just told Sandra he got a couple hundred grand saved up? Would that have changed anything? Would she have stayed with him for the money? Does that even matter? Wojo don’t mind a gold-digger. So long as she loves him, she can spend all the money, he don’t care. Just give him an allowance to buy lunch every day at work. Couplea shirts at Christmas. That’s all he needs.
That coffee commercial came on, the one with the husband drinking coffee with his wife who’s pretty in a nice way, like a new kindergarten teacher, got a cozy sweater on. Wojo want a wife he can treat right like that. Sandra never wore a sweater. Need a house with a fireplace.
In the commercial, they’s lounging around afrontuva fire in a fireplace, but in the outside shots, there isn’t no chimney on the house. Aside from that, it’s a perfect marriage, he thought. Bet!
So when she finished her coffee or possibly not-coffee drink, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, that was nice, she don’t hate him or nothing. She got a tenderness for him. Her lips was soft and electric and warm, and they proved that maybe nothing was wrong about Wojo. She wouldn’ta kissed him if he was a creep. Then Wojo trudge-booted home. Maybe that was the problem, he saw now, he shouldn’ta done wore boots. Girls don’t like workboots.
Or maybe girls just don’t like bricklayers. His old flame Mazie said it was like making out under an unfinished statue.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
Wojo stopped his laughter when he realized what he was laughing at. “You shouldn’t talk about women like that,” Wojo said. He knew he was gonna look like a spoilsport, but he don’t care, Wojo was raised proper. He’s a Christian. “It’s disrespec’ful.” Anyway, Jeb, Dawkins and a couple others agreed with Wojo, and that led to a dispute about thullogy and the ethics — theelogy — thoulogy? God stuff.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
He paused before blurting out, “They got flavored popcorn too. But don’t get the green… uh… matchoo. Gross. Tastes like… well, I don’wanna say what it taste like, cuz you’re a girl.” He blushed and looked down, then bit his lip and corrected himself. “Woman.”
“So’s I thought, uh, Sandra, I wuz thinkin’, you know, you know, I wuz — there’s a place, the Cinema, they is playin’ movies, you know, you know, I mean, like,” He grunted, he really wanna sniffle, his nose was stuffy, but he don’t think Sandra would approve. “I, uh… They got movies on, you know. It’s called the Cinema.”
“A movie theatre?”
“Yeah.” Wojo knew he sounded like an idiot, he don’t gotta explain a theater. He wasn’t sure he got the name right — it was actually the Broad Avenue Cinema, but Wojo knew it as “the Cinema” that was on Broad, and he didn’t know that cinema was a word, not a brand. “The Cinema. They put on classic movies sometimes. I thought, I was thinking, I thunk, I thought, I was — I thought, maybe, uh, maybe, you’d like to go see one sometime. A movie. A classic movie. Or a modern one, I don’t care. They do modern ones too.” He paused before blurting out, “They got flavored popcorn too. But don’t get the green… uh… matchoo. Gross. Tastes like… well, I don’wanna say what it taste like, cuz you’re a girl.” He blushed and looked down, then bit his lip and corrected himself. “Woman.”
From Wojo the Bricklayer
He just might got love in his heart for her. He wanna go the whole way right now, tell her he loves her, propose to her, marry her, have a buncha kids with her. If there was a button he could press to make all that happen, he’d do it in an instant! Bet!
But there was no such button, and prolly she’d get turned off when she realized he was just a big-ass bricklayer, dumb as a clod of dirt. And he used to be a Marine. Oorah. He dunno if that was a plus for girls or not. It seemed like girls liked it at the time, but now they was fussing about it like it don’t matter. Maybe calling hisself a “former Marine” made him sound old. Only washed-up old men was former anythings.
Lotta Marines say there ain’t no such thing as a former Marine, just ones that are civilians now. But women sure acted like a currently military Marine was different than a now-civilian one. Or maybe Wojo just don’t put off the right kinda vibes for a Marine anymore. Girls pay alotta attention to vibes. There oughta to be like a tattoo or something that tells women you got a Marine pension, so you don’t gotta tell ’em. Women don’t know about that stuff. There’s no vibe to it.
From Wojo the Bricklayer
Prostitutes were merely a warm orifice for a man to use and abuse, that manhood required utilization and hierarchy to embody itself lest its precariousness lead to subordination and that empathy for fallen women marked a man as weak and vincible.
“You should visit brothel,” Vashka said with a snoot and a whistle. He shrugged.
“I don’t do prostitutes,” Wojo said. He blushed. “Sawry, I just — I don’t like to treat a woman like that.” He scuffed his feet. “Women are… Women should be nice. Like mad, you’know, nice. Like a princess.” He looked down cuz he knew Vashka was gonna cackle him up over that.
Vashka put out a barrel laugh as he finished his reps, and Wojo took his place on the bench-press bench. Vashka said, “Is not nice women, not the marry kind, not like wife. You should do. They are…” He added a sound effect, the gist of which, Wojo gathered, was that prostitutes were merely a warm orifice for a man to use and abuse, that manhood required utilization and hierarchy to embody itself lest its precariousness lead to subordination and that empathy for fallen women marked a man as weak and vincible.
Wojo did not see women that way. But he was in a Russian gym right now, very possibly surrounded by Russian gangsters, so Wojo just shrugged and did his bench presses. He matched Vashka’s weight, which he did not struggle to lift. It activated the pain in his shoulder though. He didn’t let it show, lest Vashka take it as a sign of weakness.
They kept talking about women as they worked through their weightlifting, and Wojo was casual but noncommittal. He wanna point out that prostitution was a sin, and the Bible and all that, it don’t allow the premaritals. But the Russians were Christians too, and he had a feeling they wouldn’t respond well to their own religion being explained to them. So Wojo carefully avoided saying anything bad about those who visit prostitutes.
He didn’t like it though. Wojo thought women should be princesses, not whores. No, queens!
From Wojo the Bricklayer
From Wojo the Bricklayer