Greg is a young man.
Greg was young, just eighteen, and sandy blond, with a trim, sleek body like a runner. He was a sheltered suburban brat, Tyrell suspected, judging from the smoothness of his face and his anxious look as he settled down on a bunk at the other end of the room. Tyrell licked his teeth. That blond honky looked like his daddy was a cop. Tyrell knew that was ridiculous, you couldn’t tell a honky’s dad by looking at him.
But Greg got that look about him, and he got skinny little legs beneath a booty that must be tighter than a locked cell.
From Tyrell the Ex-Con
That’s when he saw a hunky-dory whiteboy with a big fat head of blond hair like a girl, like a pretty girl who don’t know how slutty she is. He was slim but thick-butted, and you just know he was pink under them clothes. Thumper could dig a pink whiteboy. He was marble-hard too. Nice. That hunky-dory marble-hard returned from the shower, carrying his shower shit in a cute plastic basket like a female might have on her bike. His phone was in there too, in a plastic baggie so it don’t get wet. He like a whiteboy with a name no nigga has. That got him hard. Betcha Greg got a sexy mama too. That kinda whiteboy always do. She prolly crackerlicious, with sinkwater-blonde hair and tits that sag at the perfect angle. Hmm-hmm! If she got ass like her son, she be perfect. Bet she do gobble up nigga dicks, gobble ’em up like chicken nuggets. White people love nuggets.
