Rico is a young man.
That nigga Rico was darkskin and glamor-muscle but not big, with a nice smooth face like any shebody would fall in love with.
Rico also attracted Thumper’s eye cuz he was young and high yellow, cool as a pear and dimpley like a golf ball, dimpley like Davon — but Rico’s dimples was less arrogant. Rico was the kinda young nigga Thumper woulda got to know real good in prison. Thumper woulda shared a bunk with Rico, and he’d-a bin got Rico to feel some love deep in his heart, deep enough to make Rico bend over and spread his cheeks. Rico was handsome as a kangaroo, handsome enough to make Thumper forget about women during the cold of a empty night. Thumper would teach Rico how to get a nut off without women, and Rico would teach Thumper all the cool modern lingo that handsome young niggas say.
Him and Rico walked home. It was less than two miles, which was a long way for Rico cuz he was a pansy-brown homewreckin’ cute-nigga dimpled-booty girl-grabbing kinda man who ain’t never walk nowhere till the cops took his car and put him on probation.
Rico was much younger than Thumper, at barely twenty-one years old, and he was a handsome, slimly-muscled thug with dimples and an ass so thick it made Mason drool when he saw it. He had baggy jeans that were slung low enough that Mason got a good look at his shorts-clad asscheeks. He sauntered in, swagger so thick it dripped off him.
Rico took off his shirt. He had been a basketball player in high school, and he had largely kept up the same training regiment even now, giving him a perfect six-pack and a powerful chest.
The closer one (Rico) was young, handsome, a bit short and lanky, but with wiry muscles beneath his baggy clothes. He had tight cheekbones and a smooth chin.
Rico was smooth all over, like that nigga was made of cantaloupe. Thumper liked touching him. He was smooth and warm and you could feel his lor-nigga heart pounding away under his handsome chest muscles.
He don’t got a single chest hair. Nigga must shave, Thumper thunk. Back in his day, no nigga shaved his chest. Some honkies do, and Arabs, cuz otherwise they gonna evolve back into apes, but niggas don’t do that.
Rico hesitated, then moved his hands. Thumper ain’t seen it yet — he done got touch-a-bunch in bed at night, but he ain’t seen it in the light. The shower only got one dim bulb in it, but it was enough to see that he got a nice dinky. It was smooth and darker than the resta his skin, and Thumper liked the way it felt in his hand and the way touching it made Rico tremble. Rico’s taut-apple pecs rippled.
A nigga with dimples and creamy skin like a fancy coffee drink a honky in a sweater might doctor up for his chowder-white bitch on her birthday (that was a commercial Thumper saw last night). Rico was lor, but he carried hisself like nobody ever told him that.
Thumper chuckled. He rammed his hand into Rico’s sagging jeans, and he grabbed his cock and his balls with one of his giant hands. Thumper was well over six and a half feet tall, and Rico was well under it, so Thumper’s big barrel-shaped chest rammed at his face. Rico stood on his toes and sucked in his breath, as Thumper’s fucksweat collided with Rico’s kangaroo-like nose. Thumper squeezed his balls and gave his dinkydoo a stroke. It was nicely sized, big enough to hold onto but not so big it could swing like a pendulum.
Thumper nodded. Rico was too doey to realize he shoulda nodded too, but Carson ain’t much care about that. Rico was the loose change of the gangsta wallet. This conversation was between Thumper and Carson; Rico was just a bystander standing by.
Rico sat there looking slack-jawed, like a kitten who just found out what a lion was.
Rico stood there, still as a daisy, ignorant as a petunia, unaware as a daffodil and handsome as a pansy. He was a bouquet of know-nothing nigga.
That Rico nigga was smooth and gleamy, and he was a low-cal slice of handsome pie, with dimples and all — Thumper could dig a nigga with dimples like a girl. If Thumper was in prison with Rico, he’d put a wig on him and squeeze that nigga’s neck when he rammed him up the booty. He’d break that booty apart, feast on what comes out and share that buffet with the ugliest, fattest niggas in that prison. Thumper would love that nigga Rico so good his mama don’t wanna see him no more.
He wrapped one great big arm around Rico’s welterweight shoulders — he was short and muscle-firm, not big, just firm — glamor-muscles, that’s what that is. He don’t wanna get bulgey. He only do muscles cuz he wanna attract the females and not scare ’em off.
From Thumper on Parole
