Thumper the Booty Bandit: Chapter Ten

Thumper got up outta the marital bed. Mrs. Gregarian lay sprawl-out, her whole body a-tremble and a-twitter, as rickety remnants of her last orgasm wracked her body. Thumper licked his teeth. His dong flopped, shiny and gooey, between his legs.
The music — picked by her — made his ears wrinkle. It was a out-of-breath woman huffing like a fat dragon alongside bells and whales and gales of webby twinkles, like the kinda music faeries might make if they was smoking crack. Something, Thumper thunk, done gone wrong in music. They oughta just rewind it to thirty-four years ago.
“Yo’ husband ain’t gonna snoop us out, is he?” Thumper asked. He widewalked to the crapper to wipe his wang with a wad of toilet paper.
She shook her head. “He doesn’t know anything, Wendell.” She smiled at him before poking her nose back into her phone. “You’ll have to come see me again. Next time something breaks, I’ll tell him to send you.”

Thumper smirked. He came over to help with her car when it wouldn’t start. He weren’t sure why Mr. Gregarian believed he could help. He could, but only because the problem was a dead battery. Easy-peasy. And Mr. Gregarian got other cars with good batteries, so Thumper jumper-cabled up and waited. Him and her chatted some, and she showed him how to make his phone flash a picture of folks who called.

That was when Mrs. Gregarian looked at him with a sultry lip. Before long, they was kissing heavy in the backseat of the car, and then they hurried inside to fuck like forbidden bunnies. Thumper ain’t mind a bit that she sagged like raggedy teabags and got droopy tits and flappy pussylips. He still savored that bitch’s flavor. She got enough cat for any numbera niggas, and she sometimes put her phone down for many minutes. Plus, she enjoyed sucking dick.
Long time done passt since he got slurped off by someone who weren’t cringing and gagging the whole time. He sorta forgot it was possible to mouth a nigga off without retching on the rampant. Mrs. Gregarian made seductive humming noises, and her mouth felt smooth as porridge and her lips soft as a pair of plump pillows.
Jacking off behind bars ain’t like that. Gagging got a gross sound, but it was like a throaty massage on his hee-haw. Took him a couple tries to get the hang of enjoying it and ignoring the stomach-churning sound. Eventually, he learnt to appreciate the sound too. But when he first got a chance to throat down a nigga in lockup, he tried to make that nigga stop gagging — that was this hefty kitcat named Mikey Donohue.
Mikey Donohue couldn’t taste no dick without gagging — not like a little gag neither, not like a kitten with a hairball — he gagged like it hurt, like it took his whole body to do it. And he used his whole big broad body too.
That nigga Mikey Donohue got assigned to Thumper’s bunk — inmates was bunking together at the time, on account of a shortage of cells or a excess of niggas. He frowned slick as a trick when he found out he gotsta bunk with Thumper, but he ain’t complain.
Mikey was a powerful nigga, not tall but thick, with broad shoulders and a back that kept on going. He played football on a semipro team, the Baltimore Electric Crabs, before his arrest. Thumper ain’t think nothing of it. He bin exulting in the fact that he ain’t gotta give up his booty no more.
And it ain’t even occur to him right away that he could take some booty of his own if he wanted. He did want that, mightily indeed once he thunk it. There ain’t lot to do in lockup besides stab Crips, work out and jack off, and Thumper’s stabbing hand was sore.
So he waited until the cell was in they zeez one night, including Mikey Donohue. He took up most the bunk, cuz he was sleeping on his back, while Thumper was on his side. Once Mikey was good and sleep-eyed, Thumper’s hands reached for his chest. He ain’t wake up. His skin was smooth and warm like a cup of coffee, and he got nice thick pecs for Thumper to play with. They was too firm for boobs, but Thumper could imagine ’em anyway. Thumper’s fingers slipped up and down Mikey’s torso.
He tweaked Mikey’s nipple. Still no reaction but a instinctual twitch of his pecs.
No response when Thumper touched his chin neither. He pulled Mikey’s chin to open his mouth. He got a nice big mouth. Thumper could punch this nigga in the face, and ain’t nobody in the cell would even ask if he got a good reason. He could pound that handsome nigga to smithereenies. Thumper owned this particular fresh fish.
Thumper ain’t wanna do that. He weren’t like that. But he liked that he got the option.
“Sssshhhh…” Thumper said as softly as he could. He clucked his tongue and worked his fingers into Mikey’s mouth. His heart pounding and his eyes opening wide, Thumper licked his own lips as he spread Mikey’s far apart. His pink mouth-hole was wet and inviting.
Once his mouth was open, Thumper got onto his knees on the bunk, straddling Mikey’s chest without putting any weight on him. He moved up Mikey’s body until he could gently ease his dick into Mikey’s mouth. A thrill of pleasure ran up him, though his limpness remained soft as dough. Mikey’s tongue was warm and moist.
But Thumper’s shaft was still flop-a-loppy, like a fatty sausage. He touched his cocktip to Mikey’s nostrils and cheeks, and his heavy ballsac plopped on Mikey’s chin. He pushed the tip back into Mikey’s mouth. Mikey stirred like a steamy soup, but he ain’t wake up yet.
His dick began to firm. Thumper licked his lips. He could get into this. When females sucked him off, it weren’t like this — they was awake, for one thing. They got smaller mouths. Mikey was a big-jaw nigga. He got plentya room in there for Thumper’s big throbbing meat. A nigga could play house in that mouth.
And Thumper owned this nigga’s throat. He could put whatever he wanted in there. He could make Mikey drink peepee or jerk off every nigga in this cell. He was allowed to rent Mikey’s throat out to honkies and screws and that tubby cholo in 41D who liked a nigga tongue up his greasy butthole.
But Thumper ain’t wanna do none that neither. Thumper was still young, barely older than Mikey. He wanted to keep Mikey’s mouth all to his own. He slipped his half-hard pecker down Mikey’s throat until he gagged.
That was enough to wake Mikey up. His eyes opened wide. He startled and grunted, spitting Thumper’s dick back out. It danced atop Mikey’s face.
“Ssssssssshhhh…” Thumper said again, and he forced Mikey’s mouth closed. His dick still rested on Mikey’s lower lip. “Don’t make noise. E’rynigga sleepin’ deep,” Thumper whispered. He dragged Mikey’s hand to his cock. “Jack me off into yo’ mouth, Mikey, c’mon. Lemme feel that tongue.”
“Wait-” Mikey tried to speak, but Thumper’s dick pushed into his mouth. That made him gag it out and try to sit up.
“Nah, ssssshhhh, nigga, no gaggin’,” Thumper said, his voice soft as syrup. He pushed Mikey’s shoulder to make him stay on his back on the bunk. “Stay down-“
“Whatchoo doin’, nigga?” Mikey asked in a harsh whisper. He opened his mouth again to say more, but Thumper rammed right in again. He ain’t force it to the back of his throat though. Felt good enough just to put the tip on Mikey’s tongue. That let Mikey talk some. “C’mon, nigga… Tha’th nathy, c’on, kit p’ayin’, nikka.”
When Mikey tried to sit up once more, Thumper let him this time. He stood next to the bunk instead of straddling Mikey. That gave Mikey a better angle to deepthroat Thumper’s rod, not that Mikey took it. He tried to move his face away, but Thumper followed and murmured, “Sssssh….” Thumper’s cock bobbed around afronta Mikey’s face.
“C’mon, nigga, whatchoo playin’ at?” Mikey’s eyes opened wide. When he opened his mouth to talk again, Thumper pushed his cocktip in. Mikey retched up loud as a feisty ferret. Thumper’s dick slipped onto his face, and Mikey moved his head to dodge it. “Quit it — Thumper!” Mikey whispered. He took Thumper’s shaft in two fingers and lifted its fattiness off his face. “Ewww, nigga!”
“No playtime,” Thumper said softly. “You new, you gotsta do yo’ time, nigga. Now be quiet. Ain’t e’ry nigga here gotta know you tonguin’ dong like a slurpy-durpy nutsponge. Quit gaggin’ so much, it’s loud and it do turn me off.”
A playful quiet slap came, as Thumper again pumped his limp dick into Mikey’s mouth. He slapped him again, real soft, just to get his attention, not make no sound.
With a snap-down, both niggas stopped moving — somenigga in a bunk stirred. Mikey’s eyes bugged out. He ain’t wanna get seen with a cockle-doodle-doo in his mouth even more than Thumper ain’t want a audience. He kept his mouth open wide, lips far apart, so Thumper’s cock rested on his teeth.
“Ssssh,” Thumper murmured, one finger on his lips. Some other nigga done stood up, on the other side of the gymnasium-like cell. That other nigga coughed couple times. He padded off other-nigga-like to the pisser against the wall of the cell.
The long-tinkle sound of his pissing filled the air, and Thumper gotsta hold back laughter. Mikey looked like he was finna splode. His mouth was garglingg around, trying-a not taste Thumper’s dick without making no noise. He juggled it between his teeth and his lips.
Still keeping one finger up over his mouth, Thumper pulled Mikey’s long tongue out so he could rub it on his dick. Mikey twitched and wriggled beneath him. His pecs flexed, and his biceps turnt firm, like he wanna fight but wanna remain a anonymouse even more. That other nigga finally finished pissing and returned to his bunk.
But they stayed silent as silk still. Thumper leggo his tongue, but he ain’t let up on Mikey’s mouth. Mikey gagged again but managed to keep it quiet, while Thumper kept pushing his dick in past Mikey’s lips. Mikey winced and scrunched his eyes shut. “Uggghhhhckkk…”
“Sssssh, nigga, Mikey, c’mon, just do it quick,” Thumper whispered, quiet as a snail. “Put yo’ hand on it too and make buncha spit. No gaggin’.”
His hand gripped the root, and Mikey winced but stroked it slowly, the tip descending into his mouth once more. He cringed violently. It slid atop his discoopative tongue. His other hand cradled his nauseated belly.
A twinge of firmness finally hit Thumper’s shaft, as Mikey twitched his lips around it. He squeezed it some. Thumper pumped his hips to work it in and out. He held onto Mikey’s cheeks, loose as a goose at first, then stronger when he felt Mikey trying-a sputter it out.
“Nigga-” Mikey tried to say, when he managed to expel Thumper’s cock. He couldn’t get no more than that out, as a violent gag erupted when he tasted that clammy cockmeat lingering on his tongue. His gagging-up was loud enough for Thumper to shush him, and Mikey swallowed it back. He got a swamp-green look on his face. Another quiet gag came out.
“Stroke it wit’cha hand, nigga, c’mon, I don’t gotsta explain how to do this,” Thumper said. “Quit gaggin’, nigga, and make lotta spit. Tha’ss a nasty sound. Make it sloppy-wet.”
Another loud retch came from Mikey when he choked up spit. He looked around the cell the best he could with Thumper’s dick limp but stuck in his mouth. Nobody was obviously awake, but both niggas got the sensation of someone watching. He closed his eyes and moved his mouth up and down the shaft, holding back a loud gag. He kept his lips firmly wrapped around it.
That was finally enough to get Thumper good and hard. His veiny dick pulsated, and the firmer it got, the harder Thumper rammed it down Mikey’s throat. His fingers spread over Mikey’s face. He forced Mikey’s cringy eyes open. “Lemme see them peepuhs, nigga.”
A couple drops of precum hit his tongue. It was slimy and intensely salty. Mikey mumbled up a mouthful of dong, unable to move his head. Thumper got a smut-filled grin on his cheesy face, as he got hornier than he had since he first hadta taste Patrick’s pecker. He humped Mikey’s mouth hard enough to make the bunk wheeze back and forth. Part of Thumper realized he was being loud as a crowd, but he ain’t care no more.
Salty precum overfilled his mouth, and Mikey held back a gross-out gag when it oozed out his lower lip. He held back another one, but then he stopped moving entirely. It took all his strength not to retch up again. Thumper shifted his weight back and forth, and his belly hair scratched at Mikey’s nose.
“Ssssh, you doin’ good, nigga,” Thumper said, cool as a cube. He gripped the back of Mikey’s head to force it in deep, until he retched again. This time it wasn’t loud because Thumper’s whole body muffled it. But then Thumper leaned back, while keeping his cock — a good nine inches of it — in Mikey’s maw.
Mikey couldn’t hold back his next gag. He expelled Thumper’s shaft along with a big clump of spit. Before he could take a breath, Thumper forced it back in around Mikey’s guffing and panting. A series of quietish gags came, as Mikey hyperventilated but couldn’t stop sniffing the scent of Thumper’s gooey piss-slit.
“You got nice mouth, nigga,” Thumper whispered. He chuckled as Mikey’s broad chest muscles heaved with furious gags, each one quiet though the overall effect was loud enough to notice. Thumper was on a roll now. He weren’t gonna let up. He got both hands on the back of Mikey’s head. His balls swayed and slapped at Mikey’s square chin.
“Who that?”
“Wassat? Huh? Shut the fuck up!”
Thumper stopped moving for a moment. A big smile appeared on his face. He whispered, “Oh, you gone and done it, you woke ’em up.”
So Thumper could plow his throat with abandon now, not a care in his noggin that all them niggas was likely peeping they gaze at his dick. Mikey ain’t able to hold back the sound of his throat resisterating, so he sputtered and spewed up gloopy saliva. He choked up a loud vomity sound, as that big ball of fluids plopped onto Thumper’s dick and then Mikey’s chest.
Thumper’s cheeks flexed as he rammed down Mikey’s throat. Long tendrils of spit dripped all the way down Mikey’s chest and his sweatpants.
“Ew, is that Thumper?”
“Nasty shit. Sorry, Mikey.”
“Sucks to be the new nigga…”
A few titters of laughter filled the cell. Thumper groaned and threw his head back, smirking in the darkness. He pumped his biceps. Now that he couldn’t stop it anyways, Thumper kinda liked all these niggas witnessing. That way he was sure they was aware he weren’t a bottoming nigga no more.
“Shine on this nigga’s face, I wanna see it,” Thumper said. The light moved to Mikey, just as his mouth filled with creamy white cum. It flowed out his chin. Ropy layer after ropy layer plastered across Mikey’s roundish face.
“Hey!” A guard’s distinctly white voice barked into the cell, and all them niggas fell silent. That included Thumper as he was rabbit-dicking his dick in Mikey’s spitty mouth. After just a moment, the only sound was Mikey’s moist gagging, so loud it sounded like a dozen niggas vomiting in sync. A long flow of jizz filled Mikey’s mouth and overspillt his face, and Thumper let out a chest-rattling moan that made the cell laugh. The guard said, “You boys is carrying on!” A flashlight beamed in from the hall. It beamed right on some niggas squinting at the brilliance. “Whatchoo-?”
The cell filled with stifled giggles, Thumper laughed too, his voice breaking as he orgasmed, and another huge jizz spurted over Mikey’s face. He was covered now. Mikey gagged. Just as he did, the guard’s flashlight illuminated Mikey’s face. All them niggas and the white guard outside saw it, and they erupted in shouts.
“Quit that pervert shit!” the guard barked. He kept the flashlight beamed on Mikey. Another rope of jiss splatted on Mikey’s swole-nigga face. Out came another vicious gag from Mikey, which caused some nigga to clap.
“Ewww, nigga!”
“Mikey, you nasty-!”
“You got a mouthful, nigga!” some nigga said, coming right up to Mikey and using his limp dick to smear cum over his cheek. That nigga guffawed up loud like he was getting away with something, then he scampered off.
Jizz dripping down his cheeks. Mikey held back a gag and covered his face with one hand. He spilled up all the jass, which flowed down his muscular chest and into a puddle on the floor.
“Shut up in there!” the guard barked, and everyone fell silent again. “I’mma wait for silence.”
Everyone was still and quiet for a few seconds. But then Mikey couldn’t help but retch once again, loud as hell, spitting up a giant wad of spooge onto his pecs. He tried to catch it with a hand, but it just spooged out his mouth too widely for that. Thumper flicked his dick in Mikey’s direction, smirking on silent.
The whole cell erupted in laughter again, as Mikey gagged and twisted away. He sprinted to the toilet against the cell wall, and he spat up a bellyful of nut into the bowl. Howls and claps came from the bunks, as Thumper alone was quiet — followed the guard’s instructions — and did a silent touchdown dance, his dick flapping against his thigh. Only the couple niggas around him saw, cuz the flashlight followed Mikey to the toilet.
“Hey, shut-” The guard barked for order, but everynigga ignored him. Mikey’s gagging kept hitting him hard, his whole body undulating. He tried to say something, but his gags was the only sound.
Some nigga emerged from the bunks and got behind Mikey, who yelped in pain. That nigga was Ratty — a skinnybones crack-smoking OG who swore he got no addiction to his rock. Thumper wouldn’t normally credit that, but Ratty made it clear his booty-sticker worked fine. He got hard as a rod with a quickabout, and he ramrodded it up Mikey’s booty. Ratty was known for that. He was too little to force any nigga into anything, but if a nigga was distracted and loose — like spitting into a toilet or talking to his mama on the phone — Ratty got skill in getting his shaft up in that nigga’s guts.
So before anywhosomever even realized it, Ratty’s rope-a-dope crackhead body was rapping at Mikey’s backdoor. Mikey howled into the toilet bowl. Ratty smacked him hard on the back of the head. Ratty’s skinny-nigga balls slapped at Mikey’s fat booty.
“Ah, shit-! Ow, fuck-!”
“Open up, nigga, I’s in ya now!”
“Shut the fuck up in there! What’re you maggots doin’?!”
Ratty ain’t miss a beat, not even when the cell screamed back peals and Thumper roared. The guard pounded on the cell door. Thumper and the screw both reacted at once. The guard ran off to get the key, while Thumper strode forward.
“You shitty nigga,” Thumper said. He gripped Ratty on the back of the neck, only to see he done start his nut. His balls was drawn up, his skinny dick throbbing. “Ratty! He mine! You can’t-!” Thumper stopped shouting, cuz the whole damn-a-lamb cell was chanting Mikey’s name, and Mikey was still spitting up into the toilet and wiping spermies off his pain-up face. “You owe me, Ratty!”
With a uncaring shrug, Ratty pulled out. He wiped his cock off on Mikey’s asscheeks, while dirty nut dribbled down his crack. “Bill me, nigga,” Ratty said. He cackled out loud. Ratty stalked off, and Thumper scowled. He was too low-ranking to beat Ratty up — Ratty got lotta respect in this cell, despite being a rat-faced, skinny-braid crack-smoking sumbitch. His jiggle-free booty disappeared into the darkness, and Thumper sat on the toilet seat afront Mikey.
Thumper made Mikey lift his head, and he rubbed his cock over Mikey’s face. Mikey gagged once more — he ain’t never really recover from when Thumper nutted couple minutes back — but Thumper’s rod on his face just made him gag all the harder. “Mikey, you best apologize to the cell fo’ wakin’ everyone up wit’cho nasty-ass gaggin’.”
“I’m sorry, y’all,” Mikey said, his voice muffled by Thumper’s dick and by his own deep-throat spitting into the toilet.
“You cool, Mikey!”
“I’mma get down that nigga throat later…”
“All them fresh fish gag bunches. You’ll get the hang of it, nigga.”
Thumper was enjoying being the center of attention, now that it was too late to be discrete. He stood up with his cock still rubbing over Mikey’s face. “How you doin’, nigga? Welcome to yo’ cell,” Thumper said. “You gonna be my nightwife, okay? That’s what this-“
But Mikey couldn’t stop gagging. He spat up goo onto Thumper’s already slimy dick, and that just made him gag harder. Thumper flexed his biceps above Mikey’s face like a conquering god, which was exactly what he felt like. He done conquer that football-booty nigga.
At last, the cell quieted down, when the sound of that guard on the return came, with the jingle-jingle of his keys. Thumper weren’t in no hurry. He was enjoying the feel of Mikey’s big face on his dick, still rubbing it when he twitched and gagged. That was just enough to feel good on his sensitive post-climax cock without being too much.
That flashlight light filled the cell, and Thumper saw all them niggas sitting up. They laid they melons down when the light came on, pretending they noggins done nod off. Thumper just flexed his muscles and laughed as the guard came in.
“You two, inmates, back to your bunks — eww, oh god-” The guard came closer, then wrinkled his nose and stepped back. “You smell like a brothel, shit-” A few titters came from the pretend-sleepers. “C’mon, no jacking off, you know that. Warden don’t tolerate perversion.”
With a smirk on his face, Thumper returned to his bunk next to Mikey. He laid down, while Mikey got on tentative legs. Mikey gulped, cradling his belly.
“C’mon, son, hurry ya booty back, or I’mma take you out,” the guard snapped. Mikey sped back to the bunk, limping cuz of his pained butt and still trying-a wipe ooze off his face and chest.
“Can’t I take a shower? Shit, c’mon…” Mikey asked weakly.
“No! You made your bed, son, now you gotta lie in it,” said the guard, as Mikey cringed his way into the bunk. He climbed back in to lay next to Thumper. He closed his eyes.
Thumper lay on his side, spooning Mikey’s spit-drenched body. He hugged Mikey’s trembling muscles.
“All you shitheads shut your fuckin’ faces!” the guard said. “If I gotta come in here again, I’mma make all of you take cold showers for a month!” He shouted on his way outta the cell. The heavy door slammed shut.
“Ewww, nigga, that was nasty,” Mikey said, softly, when the guard was good and gone. Thumper clucked his tongue and used his bath towel to sop up what he could off Mikey’s body. “And my ass hurts.”
Thumper nodded. He kissed Mikey on the cheek, tasting his own cum. He ain’t feel this vibrant and alive since he got used to taking Patrick’s pecker up his booty. Now he was exulting in the fact that he ain’t gotta do that never again. “I know,” Thumper said, his hands pinching Mikey’s muscles. “You done good, nigga. I’ll make Ratty pay good fo’ takin’ yo’ cherry.”