MN Manmacker's mansploitation
Kwan is a new barber at a black barbershop, and he’s in for a world of alpha male downlow interracial action! That’s cuz he works with some of the neighborhood’s mightiest, strongest and sexiest alpha male black men.
Can Kwan handle his toughest coworker, the legendary ex-con Ike Skelton?!
The Lebanese barrack was dappled with sheets and them nightgown-like things they wore. It smelled of obscure spices, like some sorta stank potpourri, like grandma’s kitchen if yo’ grandmama was a hairy sailor.
Waaaay too much body hair for Steel’s notions. The UN oughta shave all the Muslims. All they body hair is like pubes too. That’s what distinguishes Arabs from Persians. Persians got nice silky body hair. Arabs was like if steel wool got turned into a real boy. A unpleasant and aggressive real boy.
The Lebanese barrack was dappled with sheets and them nightgown-like things they wore, Steel don’t know what none that’s called. All them clothes was hung up to dry. It smelled of obscure spices, like some sorta stank potpourri, like grandma’s kitchen if yo’ grandmama was a hairy sailor. Steel ain’t like it one bit. And goddamn was the place a forest of chest hair. Steel could taste it from the doorway, like a copper penny baking on a sandy beach. Makes a nigga’s fillings wiggle.
One of ’em got that bristly body hair going over his shoulders and all the way down his back, like he was slowly turning into a carpet. One of ’em was wearing an Aladdin hat too, a real nice one. Arabs got good hat game. He gotsta to give ’em that one. They hat game was on point.
From Steel the Roughneck
Lem got theories on why Italians was so awful, and he explainified them to Steel till Steel told him to get on with it.
Lem got theories on why Italians was so awful, and he explainified them to Steel till Steel told him to get on with it. Steel got no distruck with Italians. He could eat the fuck outta some pizza too, the Portuguese cooks on the rig make pizza, but they makes it weird as Chinese beards. It’s on like flatbread or something. And they don’t even put pepperoni on it! Portugal’s a fucked-up place. Anyway, Steel got no hate for Portuguese crackers, nor Italians, but Lem got reasons to hate on every race. Every reason was unique to that race, but he got a million of ’em. Lem was an anthopplist of stereotyping.
From Steel the Roughneck
“Girlshit on yo’ dingdong, whiteboy, you is so wrong!”
Soon as Buck got to relaxing — putting out ignore ’bout Lem’s nonsense — he got tired of sitting. He put on a clean paira tight-whites and got up to work out. He jogged in place some, then did couple burpees and went thru his routine, while Lem ranted like a old black man.
“Bet it was the Haitians. Bet it. Know that, Buckums! Reagan be lettin’ ’em in left ‘nd right, lettin’ ’em in like pants! Mark my words, them Haitians done touch all my shit. You don’t believe me? I got the receipts, homeboy!”
“I ain’t a homeboy. I believes ya, Lem, Hayshuns do that, they do be like that,” Buck said, voice jiggling up and down with the heft of his chest as he did his burpees — jumping up from the floor to the stool and back again. The pouch of his tight-whites flopped up and down, and his cock popped free. “They’s one of you’uns, you should tell ’em-” Buck grinned at Lem and kept on his burpees, despite his fatty shaft barrumphing up along with his movement. Lem done emphasize numerable times that ‘Haitians ain’t proper niggas’, and sh’ore ’nuff, Buck’s comment set him off once again.
“Girlshit on yo’ dingdong, whiteboy, you is so wrong! First of all, Haitians ain’t proper niggas, I done tol’ you that. Secondmostly, these Haitians in particular, on this rig, they done — they’s racist ‘gainst American niggas, Buckums, you know that. I know you know that! Lord ‘ave mercy! And fourthly or maybe fifthly, I dunno, them’s got knives — they come from a land of cannibals, Buckums — believe that, nigga! You believe that-” He wagged a finger at Buck, who was finishing his burpees. Then he cleared out some space ‘neath a pull-up bar. “They’s French niggas, that’s diff’rent ‘an American black fellahs. Them’s longskin, you know ’bout longskin niggas?”
“I don’t care, Lem.”
“They’s different from nightcheek niggas, you know.” Lem got a whole classifiction of homeboys — nightcheeks, longskins, redbones, high yellows, duckydoos. Buck got no time fer that.
Buck gripped the pull-up bar and lifted his feet off the floor. Buck was so tall he hadta angle his feet out in order to do any pull-ups. His damn near seven-foot-tall body nearabout reached the ceiling here.
“Lem, t’is my God-given right as a white man to not learn all the diff’rent kinds of black guys.” He did a couple pull-ups while Lem lit a cigarette and fumed.
“Firstly, Haitians do that voodoo shit-” Lem started counting off upon his fingers again, having forgetted he was already counting. “They do that, they sacrifice chickens an’ all.”
From Buck on the Oil Rig
One them said he was from Abba-dabba-doo, and that was from the fucking Flinstones. Lem know when a A-rab is pulling his leg, cuz it’s attached to this nigga brain.
It was Assif and couple them other Arab fellers — the Egyptians. They wasn’t actually all Egyptian, but Assif was and buncha others was, and Lem and Buck ain’t care about the particulars beyond that. One them said he was from Abba-dabba-doo, and that was from the fucking Flinstones. Lem know when a A-rab is pulling his leg, cuz it’s attached to this nigga brain.
From Buck on the Oil Rig
At least that prison cell ain’t got no honkies at that time.
Couple honkies did come later, and naturally they be stirring up all kinda conflict, as a honky do, Lord have mercy!
At least that prison cell ain’t got no honkies at that time.
Couple honkies did come later, and naturally they be stirring up all kinda conflict, as a honky do, Lord have mercy!
Buck do bug his mug about that. Yes, they do, honkies provoke fights, every time. Africa was the Garden of Eden till the white man came. All was perfection, then the Devil invented the white man in a cave in Ukraine. That’s in the Bible. Lem gotta wait for Buck to quit wigging out so Lem can finish his story proper-like.
From Buck on the Oil Rig
Kax stood up on a look like he don’t think there’s diff’rent kinds of homeboys or like he don’t think Buck should notice ’em.
Buck grabbed the likker with one hand, Lem’s ass with t’other. He pulled down Lem’s boxers and rammed the sealed bottle of likker into his butthole.
“Ackk! — Ah, shit!” Lem scampered off, while Buck’s chuckles turned to a holler-heavy guffaw. The bottle dropped onto the ground, and Lem chased it down, his boxers still round his ankles. Only the tip of the bottle went in his ass, but Lem shot Buck a curled lip — he drunk outta that tip.
Buck laughed at Lem’s snarling. This was not the first time Buck got a likker bottle in his ass. Lem was too persnickety to drink outta it or even pour it into a cup thru the tip, once it been in his ass. So’s now he gotsto spend all night wiping it down and warshing it clean.
Black fellers do be like that. Not Kax though, who be boofing and oofing as Buck punched his belly and told him this story. Kax weren’t the cleany, prissy sorta homeboy. Kax stood up on a look like he don’t think there’s diff’rent kinds of homeboys or like he don’t think Buck should notice ’em.
One day soon all the whiteboys gonna get replaced by a broken dildo plugged in to a bossy computer, and the world gonna rejoice.
“I done say it b’fore, Lem, you don’t know nuttin’ ’bout whiteboy dick.” Buck screwed up his eyes down at his dick in Lem’s hand. It was limpening cuzza Lem’s sandpapery skin. “Ya old-man meat discomfit me — why’s it look like a burnt hot dog? Sheeit, looks like a hot dog made wit’ too much skin, then lit on fire, then locked in a dehydratuh fer a decade.”
“Yo’ dick is uglier than mine, hillbilly. Axe any female in the world, they’ll tell you. It’s impossible to orgasm wit’ a white cock. Women need nigga meat.” Lem got both hands on Buck’s dick now, sorta rubbing it but more petting it like a disliked cat. “One day soon all the whiteboys gonna get replaced by a broken dildo plugged in to a bossy computer, and the world gonna rejoice.”
Buck scoffed. “World got no use fer homeboys already, Lem. Somebody done invent rhyming diction’ries and robots that can shoot each othuh.” His laughter made his cockfat jiggle limp as a dead eel in Lem’s hand.
From Buck on the Oil Rig
This thick-ass straightlane female with weeks of booty to belove, bitch looked like she could rape a horse, and Thumper wanna be that horse.
They watched American Ninja Warrior and made a drinking game outta the hoohahs falling down. Muscley chicks got Thumper going too. There was this thick-ass straightlane female with weeks of booty to belove, bitch looked like she could rape a horse, and Thumper wanna be that horse. Other two preferred other chicks — Deon liked this skinny blonde chowder-white with triangle hips, shit, Thumper ain’t know how a nigga could love a bony bitch like that, if you ever ate her pussy, she’d poke your eyes out. Jaekwel preferred some sunnyskin female who’s delicate and dreary and’d prolly fall apart like jenga if she ever took a nigga dick, certainly if she ever took Thumper’s. But Jaekwel was a sensitive kinda nigga. He prolly lay up all night listening to his girlies gab. That Asian female tripped about ten seconds in, and Deon’s chowder-white made it nearly to the end, but she fell off the grabby thing. Thumper’s preferrated straightlane bitch qualified, all the way to the end, and damn her tits was plumping when she pressed the buzzer. Thumper took that to mean he was right and them other two was wrong.
From Thumper the Mover
