MN Manmacker's mansploitation
He phoned out to see if he got a app that could build, deliver and install plumbing before his next poop.
But there ain’t no such app. Not everything’s a phone yet!
“Where is this cabin, the nineteenth century? Shit, nigga!” Rico stamped his foot, furrowing his handsome forehead at the buckets like they might turn into a shower somehow. He phoned out to see if he got a app that could build, deliver and install plumbing before his next poop.
But there ain’t no such app. Not everything’s a phone yet! Plumbers still out there making bank, y’all!
Rico need a nigga to hold his hand every step of the way. Young folks is like that now!
Thumper ain’t know what GPS was, but he sensed Rico did, so he said okay. It turned out GPS was the lady who read out directions on the phone.
You know you can replace that lady with like Denzel Washington or some shit? Only black females they got was Oprah Winfrey and some British bitch who the internet said won fourth place in a bake-off. But Thumper accidentally made it Hilary Clinton and couldn’t put it back, so he was glad to not use GPS. He could look where the car was going.
A nigga oughta use his eyes to see. That’s in the Bible, look it up!
Rico pouted though when he hadta follow the directions Thumper read out to him. Rico was young. He need Hilary Clinton saying “turn left here” and “go straight through this intersection”, shit, Rico need a nigga to hold his hand every step of the way. Young folks is like that now! Not just niggas neither, whiteboys too, and Thumper seen a Asian retard at the store — even Asians got retards now! Wouldn’t a-happened before!
He done share prison cells with lotta handsome young things like Rico, with tasteful muscles and cute tattoos and a tight ass you could bounce a kitten off of.
Rico frowned at Thumper like he ain’t wanna explain that none his niggas got a couch for him to sleep on. Rico do be frowning! Young niggas was like that these days. A steamy-green bitch on the news said young men was “drowning in a male-strum of toxic cities”. That sounds bad, Thumper feel sorry for ’em. Rico scoffed like he was too handsome to drown in a male-strum.
Thumper returned to the ramshackle shack with a pizza and a willingness to share it with that Rico nigga. Even the free pizza ain’t turn Rico’s frown upside-down, as he bin calling his niggas all day. He bin calling the niggas of his niggas in the hunt for a couch to sleep on.
You see, his girlfriend done left him. Rico told a long, frown-filled story about how she was a touchy bitch, and she don’t want him now that he got arrested dealing coke. She only dated him cuz he got cocaine and stacks of dollars in his pockets. A pocket-empty nigga is a bitchless nigga. His mama done kick him out for bringing shame and frowns upon the family domicile, plus Rico got a stepdad who don’t like him none. Guess stepdad don’t find frowny niggas with dimples and shiny skin as arousing as Thumper do.
Thumper find ’em plenty arousing indeed! He done share prison cells with lotta handsome young things like Rico, with tasteful muscles and cute tattoos and a tight ass you could bounce a kitten off of.
He mimed eating a very big pot pie with a itty-bitty spoon.
“Lemme fuck yo’ guhl. Tell her to give up her booty if she bleedin’ outta her period. She do booty, right? Does she lick yo’ butthole? Cuz I will lick her’n. I will eat her asshole like a chicky pot pie.” He mimed eating a very big pot pie with a itty-bitty spoon.
Interracial Dubcon in Baltimore
Chapter One: The Ex-Con and the Robber
Chapter Four: The Parole Officer
After spending years living with roommates, Avery was overjoyed at finally having a home of his own. He rented a house in the inner-city. It wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but it wasn’t the worst either. And Avery didn’t even really care about how nice the neighborhood was — he could take care of himself.
Or so he thought. One night, just a few weeks after moving in, his ability to defend his home was put to the test. Avery woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a man breaking in.
Maybe two men.
His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He grabbed the pepper spray he kept in his bedroom and hurried into the hallway.
There were two men there.
Avery stepped into the bathroom so they wouldn’t see him just yet. The closer one was young, handsome, a bit short and lanky, but with wiry muscles beneath his baggy clothes. He had tight cheekbones and a smooth chin. The other, who was unplugging the television in the living room, was bigger and older, scruffy, cornrowed and lighter-skinned.
“Yo, Rico, help me pack up this Playstation,” said the older one.
“Yeah, Thumper, in a sec.”
Rico — the younger, handsome one — glanced down the hall. He looked worried, in contrast to Thumper’s confident glare. Rico seemed uncertain of whether he had seen movement; Avery hid deeper in the bathroom, looking around for anything he could use as a weapon.
“Rico! Nigga, come on!” Thumper said. “Nobody here, okay? Just help me get this shit!”
Rico sighed. He turned around. Avery wished he had his cell phone with him so he could call the police, but he had stupidly plugged it in using a kitchen outlet — he was all out of outlets in his bedroom. Now it seemed so simple, he could have unplugged something he wasn’t going to use tonight. There were a ton of reasons to keep his phone near the bed.
They stacked up the television and the Playstation near the door, then Rico opened the hall closet. He whistled in surprise, and Avery blushed, knowing what he saw there.
“Thought you said it was just a single man living here,” Rico said.
“Yup.”
“He got a closet full of women’s clothes,” Rico said.
That seemed to throw Thumper for a loop. Avery couldn’t see from his vantage point, but he thought Thumper was looking in the closet too. That meant they were both facing away from the bathroom.
This is your opportunity, he told himself.
“Tall woman too,” Thumper said. “Probly an ex-wife or some shit. Go on and look in the bedroom-“
“Fuck you, assholes!” Avery screamed — cursing himself for sounding so weak as he did it — and came into the living room, pepper spray in hand. He realized only when Thumper and Rico looked at him that he had never looked closely at this pepper spray. He didn’t know how to use it, or whether there was some kind of safety latch he needed to remove first. Sure enough, when he pressed the trigger, nothing happened. The can of pepper spray was unopened, and Thumper lazily knocked it out of Avery’s hand.
For a moment, all was silent. Thumper and Rico looked at Avery as though they had never seen a white man before. Avery was too scared to move.
Thumper chuckled. “Oh, damn. It’s a man.”
“Don’t hurt me!”
“Tie him up in his room,” Thumper said. He turned around to look in the drawers of the desk in the living room. He picked up an old iPod as though considering stealing that, then decided it wasn’t worth it. He set it back down.
Rico approached Avery with the confident, cocky glare of a thug. Avery, embarrassed at having been outmatched so easily, felt a surge of adrenaline — if he let these home invaders dictate what happened here, this would end up bad for sure.
“Goan, man,” Rico said. “Get to the bedroom.” Despite his confident demeanor, Avery could tell he was wavering; he had never done anything this violent.
“No. Fuck you,” Avery said. “Get outta my house.”
“Just take him, Rico!” Thumper barked.
Rico pushed Avery towards the hallway, but Avery had a few pounds on him. He stood flat-footed and didn’t move an inch. He pushed Rico back, and the smaller man nearly tripped over the couch. Rico looked like he hadn’t expected to have to make an effort. He was used to intimidating scared white men, but Avery’s adrenaline flowed too hard for him to be easy to scare.
Thumper laughed. “What’s wrong wit’choo, boy?”
“He pushed me!” shouted the annoyed Rico, who stomped towards Avery yet again.
“Yeah, he do that!” Thumper said. “We’s robbin’ him. He might push back. That happens, nigga.”
That momentary burst of success gave Avery a spring in his step. This time when Rico approached him, Avery used his self-defense techniques — he nearly knocked Rico over with a foot sweep, but instead put him in a bear hug. Rico’s lithe muscles squirmed beneath Avery’s touch as Avery dragged him to the front door.
He literally tossed Rico out into the front lawn, as Thumper laughed behind him. When Avery turned around, Thumper was screaming peals of laughter, clapping his hands on his meaty thighs.
“You got that, man, you got that!”
Avery blushed. He hadn’t meant to impress Thumper. Now that Rico was gone, Avery just needed to get rid of Thumper, or make it into the kitchen to call the police.
But then Rico walked right back in behind Avery. He once again tried to push Avery, who easily tossed him out the front door yet again.
This time, he was distracted long enough for Thumper — who still laughed as though he had never seen anything so funny — to grab Avery from behind. He wrapped both muscular arms around Avery and hissed.
“This is how you do it, nigga!” he barked at Rico, his anger suddenly dissipated, replaced by rage.
Rico, embarrassed, muttered as he followed Thumper, dragging Avery into the bedroom. Rico shut the front door and wiped wet grass off his stained t-shirt.
Despite or maybe because of all the fighting, Avery was horny. It came both from general excitement as well as from the strapping muscles of Thumper’s body, undulating behind his back. Avery could even feel a horsey cock beneath Thumper’s jeans, rubbing against the small of Avery’s back.
“Get some rope,” Thumper said as he tossed Avery on the bed on his belly.
Avery felt naked and vulnerable. He wore only a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He tried to get up, but Thumper sat on the bed next to him, resting one heavy arm on Avery’s back.
“Get a rope!”
“I, uh, I ain’t got one.”
“I tol’ you bring a rope!”
“You said he wouldn’t be home! And I ain’t got a motherfuckin’ rope, nigga!”
Thumper sighed. “You stupid fuck. What we s’posed to tie him up with?”
“You said he wouldn’t be home.”
“What I said was bring a rope, nigga!” Thumper said. “You should stay prepared, man. Don’t come into some nigga’s house without rope to tie him up.” He patted Avery on the back of the head. “Sorry ’bout callin’ you a nigga, whiteboy.”
“That’s okay. Just get out! Lemme go,” Avery said.
“Go find something we can tie him up with,” Thumper said with a sigh. He held Avery’s face in the pillow, not suffocating him, but keeping him from seeing what Rico was doing. After a few seconds, Thumper shouted in frustration. “Not in here, nigga! If there was something in here we could use to tie him up, I’d-a said ‘hand me that, nigga’. I said go find something!”
Rico muttered angrily to himself as he walked out the door the bedroom. He could be heard pawing through the hallway closet.
“Sorry, man, he young. He slow,” Thumper said. Leaving one hand on Avery’s neck and hand, his other rested on Avery’s back. That hand moved slowly lower. “He ain’t nevuh been locked up. He don’t know.” He leaned in and kissed the back of Avery’s neck. “You got a nice body.” He let out a choked moan. “Boy, if you was my cellmate… I’d brew up something in yo’ ass and yo’ mouth, e’rry damn day.”
Avery shuddered at the thought. He was so aroused now his dick was already getting hard, even pressed awkwardly into the mattress beneath him.
“You into that, huh?”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said. “You can ram me. Just don’t rob me.”
Thumper laughed. “Those things ain’t mutually exclusive, man,” he said. “And you ain’t in position to be making demands.” He chuckled as he stood up. He unzipped the fly of his jeans and fished out a long dark cock.
His head moved of its own will towards Thumper’s cock. Avery hesitated, inhaling that musty, prison-starved scent — he could tell that the underwear Thumper wore was that plain white kind, prison-issue boxers.
But before Avery could open his mouth to suck it down, Thumper took his head in hand and pulled it into his crotch. The silky taste of limp cockmeat filled Avery’s mouth.
Thumper had an intense and potent flavor; he tasted of blunt ash and grimy city streets. He smelled of prison cells, men in cramped conditions and unwashed ballsweat. Avery tasted all of the grime that came from his gangbangin’ lifestyle, and he guzzled it down.
In no time his cock began to firm up within Avery’s mouth. It grew hot and thick, and Avery let his tongue caress the underside of Thumper’s veiny shaft.
“Oh yeah…” Thumper murmured. “I only got outta prison yesterday, man. I needed this.”
Thumper kept all his clothes on. He didn’t even drop his pants, he just let his cock poke out of the fly of his jeans. As Avery licked, Thumper stooped more and more to give Avery better access to his entire dick. Soon enough, Thumper was leaning over the entire bed, humping Avery’s face like a dog.
The smell of a lit cigarette filled the room. Avery was annoyed — he didn’t allow smoking in his home. He hated cigarettes, but he wasn’t about to complain, even if his mouth weren’t full. Lit cigarette cocked between his lips, Thumper climbed all the way onto the bed.
The position was awkward. No one would have ever chosen to get dome in this position, but Thumper didn’t seem to mind. Maybe he was used to overcrowded prisons. Avery’s body jammed against the wall of his room, laying on his side, while Thumper crawled onto the bed, stooping over so his cock could reach out of his sagging jeans and into Avery’s throat.
“Slurp it good, nigga,” Thumper said. He snuck one callused hand behind Avery’s head, holding it still while he worked his cock in and out. When Avery finally gagged on its thickness invading his throat, Thumper murmured his approval. “There ya go. That’s the sound of a job done right. Move yo’ tongue around mo’.”
Avery did as he was told. He had never tasted a cock this delicious before. Thumper’s tasted of masculinity; Avery could still savor the drops of untainted sweat that clung to his shaft, rather than tasting nothing more than his own spit, which is what usually happened to blowjobs after a few minutes.
Then the overwhelming saltiness of precum hit Avery’s senses. He moaned, which made Thumper laugh. He lightly smacked Avery on the cheek.
“You fo’ real, man,” he said. “I like you. You wanna slurp on my balls?”
He didn’t need to ask Avery twice. Avery reached into the hairy dankness of Thumper’s crotch and withdrew a low-hanging sac from the fly of his jeans. He drooled as he pulled off Thumper’s cock and let both hairy balls fall into his mouth.
That enormous brown dick stood straight up from his face. Avery lazily stroked it with one hand, giggling as he saw Thumper twitch with every touch — Avery kept his hand off-rhythm, light, virtually torturing Thumper, whose hands fluttered as though he was unwilling to touch himself no matter how much his instincts demanded it.
“Whatchoo doin, nigga?!” Rico screamed when he came back into the bedroom. He dropped the soft cloth belt from a bathrobe, which is apparently what he found with which to tie Avery down. Rico sounded like he was about to start crying.
Thumper laughed. “What’s it look like, lor nigga?”
Rico hesitated. He stood there in the doorway. Avery couldn’t see his face because Thumper’s balls overflowed from his mouth, and all that was in front of his eyes was that towering shaft of chocolate brown cock. With every barrel laugh of Thumper’s heavy body, Avery felt the balls on his tongue quiver. He suckled as loudly as he could, and the moist sound of gargling balls filled the room.
Rico audibly gagged. He came closer, approaching gingerly, as though it was a bomb he needed to find a way to defuse.
“You ramrodding’ that man?” Rico asked.
Thumper laughed again, and his balls twitched in Avery’s mouth. “Nah, he likes it.”
There was a long silence. Avery could hear Rico come even closer, and kneel as he looked right at the balls disappearing down Avery’s throat.
“He likes the taste of balls?” He peered closer but stepped away as though worried about being splashed. He wrinkled his nose.
Thumper grabbed Rico’s head. Rico squealed and tried to pull away, but Thumper held him close. He dragged his head right to Avery’s ball-slurping face. For a moment it looked like Thumper was going to make Rico swallow his cock.
But he didn’t. He just held Rico’s face there for a moment, so close the spit from Avery’s ball-slurping splattered on Rico’s nose. Rico gagged and bucked, and Thumper let him go.
This time, Thumper and Avery both laughed together. Rico wiped his face off and roared in frustration.
“Don’t nevuh get locked up, nigga,” Thumper said. He pulled his moist scrotum out of Avery’s mouth, planted it right on his nostrils and laughed at Rico’s shocked reaction.
“I won’t!”
“You go’n embarrass me if you do,” Thumper said. He pointed the tip of his dick into Avery’s mouth, but just jabbed it in once before getting up. He kneeled on the bed, straddling Avery’s body. “You know how things go in there, nigga. You-“
“Yeah!” Rico sounded like he was about to cry. “I know how lockup works, brah. If I was in there, I might lay some pipe in a nigga. But I ain’t. I-“
“You don’t want that to be yo’ first time, Rico,” Thumper said. His fingers gripped Avery’s face, rubbing his cheeks and stretching his mouth open. He leaned over until he was so close he nearly kissed Avery right on the lips. Rico watched with baited breath, but then all Thumper did was purse his lips and spit. A wad of saliva landed right in Avery’s mouth, and Thumper forced his lips shut. Thumper licked Avery’s spasming face from his chin to his forehead. “You mine, bitch.” He chuckled to himself. “It ain’t the same if you want it. I kinda miss makin’ prison bitches squirm,” he said, a bit ruefully. “You wanna throat down this nigga too?”
“God yes!” Avery shouted.
Rico didn’t respond and maybe didn’t understand what Thumper said. He wavered, and looked away when Thumper smiled at him. Without taking his body off Avery’s bed, Thumper wrapped one arm around Rico’s shoulder.
“C’mon, nigga. You should do this. You ain’t gotta tell no one,” Thumper said. “You gonna look like an idiot if yo’ first time wit’ a man happens behind bars. Ain’t young niggas do shit on the downlow these days?”
“No!”
Thumper rolled his eyes. “You don’t, you mean. I know some young niggas do.”
“I got females, Thumper!” Rico said, his voice plaintive and desperate as though he felt a need to convince himself as well as Thumper. He closed his eyes while Thumper guided him close to the bed. Rico began undoing his belt, but Thumper stopped him.
“Nah. Real thugs don’t take they clothes off, not fo’ jackin’ off wit’ some whiteboy,” Thumper said. “You might have to run wit’ a quickness.”
Rico’s breathing was slow and swift. He was very nervous, and his hands trembled as he unzipped his fly. He took a deep breath and let his cock flop out.
“Well? Come on, put it in his mouth,” Thumper said. He chuckled. “Gonna break you in tonight, Rico, shit…”
Rico winced. He closed his eyes again, and bit his lip. His dick waggled in front of Avery’s face.
“Rico, you fucking pussy, just do it, if you gonna do it. If you scared of this whiteboy and wanna run out the door, do that,” Thumper said. “Is you a thug or ain’t you? Thugs ain’t goddamn squeamish ’bout who jerks they cock.”
Rico nodded. He didn’t seem any more relaxed, and with his eyes still closed, he could do little more than flop his cock in the general direction of Avery’s mouth.
Avery was eager to taste it. He lifted his head the best he could with Thumper still pinning him down. He got the tip of Rico’s dick in his mouth, but as soon as he touched it with his tongue, Rico giggled like a teenager and backed away.
“Rico!” Thumper screamed. “Don’t be a goddamn pussy. You almost twenty years old, actin’ like a fuckin’ pansy.”
Rico blushed and stepped forward again. He opened his eyes just long enough to see that Thumper’s cock was still rockhard, resting against Avery’s face. Thumper roared in frustration and grabbed Rico’s cock.
“Shit, Thumper! You touchin’ my dick!” Rico’s eyes opened wide, looking at his shaft in Thumper’s hand.
“Don’t be squeamish,” Thumper said with a snarl.
Avery was shocked that Thumper would touch another man’s dick; it looked like Rico was even more surprised. He looked at it like a bad car accident as Thumper led his dick to Avery’s mouth. Rico stepped forward stiffly, wishing he hadn’t agreed to rob houses with Thumper — he had known something like this would happen — not this exactly, but something similar — Rico considered leaving even now. He could have; Thumper would have teased him about it. No matter what Thumper said, Rico thought, this wasn’t gangsta.
But a part of Rico didn’t want to seem squeamish, and a part of him did want a little consequence-free orgasm. So he didn’t leave. He just tried to pretend it wasn’t Thumper’s middle-aged, callused fingers pawing over Rico’s meat.
Avery opened and swallowed it again. This time he immediately licked the tip, which perked up right away. Rico frowned and sucked in his breath, still watching as Thumper stroked him and Avery slurped on him.
Again, Thumper seemed uncaring of how much he touched Rico’s cock, as he pointed his own cock towards Avery’s mouth as well. Avery focused on getting Rico off while Thumper’s dick poked at his lips. Rico’s lithe frame was so tense he was like a fully clothed statue, his knees trembling as he got hard in Avery’s mouth.
“See, nigga? It ain’t bad. You gangbang bitches?”
“Yeah!”
“You ever joust in a bitch’s mouth?”
Rico mumbled over some words that Avery couldn’t quite catch. It sounded like Rico had a lot less experience than he was letting on. Thumper laughed, wrapped one arm around Rico and brought his head in. He kissed Rico on the forehead and laughed again as Rico pulled away from him.
“Lay off me, nigga! Why we gotta joust and shit?” Rico said.
“I just like fuckin’ wit’ you, nigga,” Thumper said. “But we ain’t gotta joust if you want.” Then he backed away. He rolled Avery over onto his back, so Rico had to mount his body just like Thumper had been, in order to aim his dick into Avery’s mouth. Meanwhile, Thumper, in one smooth motion, lifted up Avery’s legs and pulled his sweatpants down.
“Oh shit, you gonna ram that man!?”
“Hell yeah, I ain’t some squeamish nigga who just wanna get his dick wet,” Thumper said. “I been locked up, nigga. I ain’t stick my dick in nothin’ for a long time.”
“Brah, I ain’t wanna hear that shit. That’s fuckin’ disgustin’-“
“Nigga! Shut yo’ goddamn mouth. If you keep complainin’, I’ll have you stick ‘im too,” he said.
Rico wasn’t really paying attention to his dick. He was much smaller than Thumper, so in order to mount Avery’s chest, he had to stretch his hips and thighs apart. It was distinctly uncomfortably for him, especially in those loose-fitting jeans he still wore. He kept his hips perfectly still as Avery slurped on his smooth brown shaft through the fly.
“Keep yo’ head lookin’ that way if you don’t wanna see it,” Thumper said gruffly as he wedged the tip of his dick between Avery’s cheeks. He shoved a small pillow under there to lift up Avery’s ass, then rammed his dick in.
It was just the first few inches at first, but the pain was intense. Avery moaned around the cock in his throat, as pleasure followed the pain in pulsating throughout his body. That hot cock pushed deeper and deeper inside.
“Brah, can’t you give a warning? He almost bit down on my dick-“
“You ain’t know what was about to happen?” Thumper asked with a laugh. He lifted his shirt up so it wouldn’t get in the way, then lifted it over his head, without taking it off. His high yellow chest was bare and gleaming with sweat. Thumper ground his dick in even deeper, and chuckled at Avery’s squirming. “This honky know how to take it. How’s that dome, nigga?”
Rico didn’t answer. He closed his eyes again. His dick was hard, but it seemed that he was too nervous and distracted to notice. His lithe body bucked instinctively.
“You best get tougher, nigga, or less handsome,” Thumper said. “Prison go’n eat you alive.”
“I ain’t goan to prison! And can you not talk? Yo’ voice is right in my ear. I can’t nut wit’ yo’ voice all up in my shit,” Rico said.
Thumper was leaning forward, so his breath condensed on Rico’s neck. “When you locked up, there ain’t always bitches around. Most of the time, you in a cell wit’ some dudes. Even if you got a bitch, he prolly ain’t around when you want him.”
“I ain’t tryin’-a get locked up, brah.”
“No one tries to get locked up, sometimes it just happens,” Thumper said. “And you gotta feel good however you can.”
Rico shuddered as Thumper’s hands caressed his back. Thumper lifted up his shirt to reveal a broad, smooth brown back. His fingers danced up and down Rico’s spine.
Then his hands roamed lower and lower, until they went past the waist of Rico’s jeans. He grabbed Rico’s plump asscheeks.
“You ever took it up the ass before?”
“No!”
“You got a hell of an ass, nigga,” Thumper said gruffly. He kissed Rico’s bare shoulder then rammed one finger up his asshole.
Rico was so nervous that his erection flagged inside Avery’s mouth. Avery didn’t mind, as this was arousing enough that he didn’t want it to end. Anything that made it go on a little longer was fine by him.
“How’s that feel, nigga?”
Rico closed his eyes, not willing to answer. He leaned forward and grimaced in pain as his hips began instinctually flexing forward and back, digging his dick deep into Avery’s throat as he went forward.
Rico couldn’t see what Thumper was doing, so he had no idea that Thumper caressed Avery’s flat stomach. Then he grabbed Avery’s cock and gave it a stroke. He made a quiet shushing sound, which Avery gathered was aimed at him — Thumper didn’t want Rico to know he was giving a reacharound (of sorts — it wasn’t a real reacharound, since Avery was on his back; it was a reach-front).
With the taste of one cock in his mouth and another stimulating his prostate, Avery had no ability to delay his orgasm. He was about to bust a nut without anyone even touching his cock, and now that Thumper was stroking it, he couldn’t resist.
Cum spurted from his cock, coating Thumper’s fingers. Thumper didn’t slow down at all. He kept stroking, and moaned as Avery’s body contorted around the cock in his ass.
Rico was so focused on the pleasure coming from both ends that he didn’t notice Avery orgasm. He breathed a sigh of relief as Thumper removed one finger from his ass then gasped when Thumper replaced it with one from the other hand, the hand he had just stroked Avery off with. Rico had no idea that the pinkie finger in his ass was coated in Avery’s cum.
“Ah, gawd, here it comes, brah,” Rico said, his voice soft and weak now that he was letting Thumper finger him. His voice even broke as the first few drops of cum coated Avery’s tongue.
“Nah, niggas paint they bitches’ face,” Thumper said. He grabbed Rico’s cock as it shot its load, pulled it out of Avery’s mouth and aimed it to spray all over his face. Rico’s entire tight body spasmed at Thumper’s touch, and his cock pulsated beneath Thumper’s fingers, his asshole squeezing the finger of Thumper’s other hand..
As the orgasm wrapped around Rico’s muscles, he leaned forward, gasping. Rico yelped and squirmed but didn’t try to crawl away; he just submitted to the humiliation of enjoying his cumwad’s spray into Avery’s mouth.
Thumper grunted. He stayed still for just a moment. He kissed Rico’s neck, making Rico shudder at the touch of Thumper’s lips. Avery stroked Rico’s sensitive cockshaft as he felt Thumper’s cumload spray within him.
It was hot and creamy, and Avery and Thumper moaned together, as though harmonizing with each other. Thumper’s guttural, tremulous tone filled the room, and Rico shuddered in disgust at the sound. Avery, feeling bold, pushed his hands up underneath Rico’s shirt. He gripped his pecs — just as he had suspected, Rico was small, but powerfully-muscled. Each pectoral muscle was like an overpumped basketball, tense with post-orgasmic glow and awkward tension, his older thug friend still massaging his back and fingering his ass.
Then he was done. Thumper didn’t move. He kept his limp cock right in Avery’s ass, while both cum-covered hands caressed Rico’s body. It was obvious he was playing a prank on Rico, seeing how much touching he would accept before complaining. Rico held his breath and closed his eyes, trying to pretend there weren’t men feeling him up from both sides.
“Okay, that’s enough, you two,” Rico finally said. He nearly fell off the bed in his haste to get away, and he sighed when Thumper leggo his ass. He shuddered as he pulled his shirt back down and tucked his cock away in his pants. “I know you just messin’ wit’ me.”
Thumper dismounted Avery’s ass, the intense pressure of being penetrated finally leaving Avery’s mind. Thumper stood next to the bed, then much to Avery’s surprise, he dropped his pants all the way to his ankles. A thick, hairy pair of asscheeks waited right above Avery’s face.
Thumper pulled those cheeks apart to reveal a twinkling brown asshole. He laughed at Rico’s shudder of disgust, and Thumper planted his ass right on Avery’s face.
“Give it a kiss, man,” Thumper said.
Avery did as he was told. Thumper waited for the kiss on his ass, then shuddered and stood up. He pulled his pants back up.
“Okay, we ain’t takin’ this man’s shit,” Thumper said.
“What?! After all that, nigga?”
Thumper nodded. “We already rammed him. That’s enough. Ain’t really got shit anyway.”
“Come back anytime,” Avery said. He blushed. He thought he should follow them out to the living room, to make sure they didn’t actually take anything. But he was too weak from the dick he just took to stand or walk, so he just watched them both march out the door.
From the living room, he heard Rico scoff. “We ain’t comin’ back-“
“Hell yeah we is,” Thumper said. “You find me a female tomorrow night, Rico. If you can’t get one to take it in the ass, I’ll either ram you or this honky. Your choice.”
“Man, Thumper… I mean, him, obviously-“
“Yo’ choice. I like touchin’ yo’ ass while I ram. Might keep you wit’ me e’rry time from now on,” Thumper said. He paused and yelled back, “Later, whiteboy. Get some porno mags we can look at next time.”
“Okay,” Avery said, his voice too weak for anyone outside the bedroom to hear. He heard Thumper chuckling as he slammed the front door, and Avery breathed a sigh of relief.
He was exhilarated. He settled down in his sheets, unwilling to move because he could still smell that thuggish scent; he didn’t want it to ever go away.
There was a tap on his window. It was Rico’s handsome cornrowed face, frowning at him. “Hey, man? Thanks for that. I’ll come back alone sometime. I don’t wanna mess around with that ol’ nigga. But I want another nut from you. Don’t tell no one, okay?”
“Okay,” Avery said breathlessly.
Rico paused and whisper-yelled away from the window. “Alright, Thumper, damn! I’m comin’! I just dropped my lighter.” Then he muttered into the window before scurrying away. “Keep yo’ door unlocked and yo’ lips unchapped, man. I be back.”
Avery smiled and watched them disappear into the night. He couldn’t wait to seem them both again — together, one at a time, bringing their friends, he didn’t care.
He just wanted more.
Interracial Dubcon in Baltimore
Chapter One: The Ex-Con and the Robber
Chapter Four: The Parole Officer
Interracial Dubcon in Baltimore
Chapter One: The Ex-Con and the Robber
Read it now for free from Smashwords!
Chapter Five: Crossing the Bridge
Chapter Six: The Sauciest Noodle
Chapter Seven: Nights of Long Love
When Thumper woke up, that meth freak he messed with last night was gone. Thumper long snored on the solo while the booty boy smoked meth, haphazardly cleaned the apartment like a overclocked robot and then scuppered sideways in the pre-dawn light.
That was good. Thumper ain’t want no meth freak sticking around, after all.
He got up just after dawn. It ain’t feel early to him. In prison, he be getting up at the north side of dawn. Nowadays, in the free outside present-day here-and-now of the real world, early rising got niggas tripping, looking at Thumper like sad question marks when he said he got up at six. Lazy-ass punks all over.
His sneakers was old-fashion now. He done forgot how to dress. In prison, all the niggas was sporting sameness — orange jumpsuits and tee shirts, scruffy beard, Bloods tats, crucifix cuz no other jewelry was allowable. Out here, niggas was dudding up in polo shirts and tight-leg jeans, with pink drawers showing. Thumper ain’t know how to wear that, cuz ain’t none that flied before. He’d look ridiculous in that.
What was up with them homeboys with bleached hair? Thumper pontificated to hisself on on that topic when a recycling truck rattled down the road — there ain’t never was recycling trucks before neither — the driver was a reflective-vest redbone with bleached hair, a shiny grill, steel rods in his eyebrows and a center-of-his-nose ring. That nigga was presenting like a tinfoil supervillain.
Ain’t not a single nigga bleach they curls platinum before.
What made young cats come up with crazy shit like that? How did Thumper and his homeboys avoid it back in the before? They acted proper. Young pups was freak-show niggas now. He stood mean-mugging the recycling truck. The nigga inside paid him no mind, and neither did the truck as well.
The world bin moving on since before, and it weren’t gonna stop now for some creaky-knee nigga heaping harsh at the history of here.
He was still scowling short when this nigga Carson arrived at the barbershop on the ground floor. Thumper bin standing out smoking fugs and marinating his grays in dawnlight, cogitating upon the years that done gone and the recycling trucks that passed.
The sun was baking the boulevards of Baltimore early this morn. It was gonna be a scorcher today, and the humidity already hung about in the air like a sauna of spiderwebs. But it felt good to be exposed to the weather and the heat and the Chesapeake wind blowing the day’s haze astride the sky. Moisture done condense on Thumper’s skin, and that felt right as rum.
“Wendell, hey, nigga,” Carson said. He was a lieutenant in the Bloods, but he got a respectable look about him. He was one them roundbody niggas, in a button-down shirt and nice pants, got a graveled-down voice with a throaty murmur. He run the barbershop on the outfront for the Bloods, and since Thumper done his time standing up for them, Carson was supervising his freedom.
Carson gave Thumper a dapper nod. “You out early this morn.”
“Yep. Gettin’ a head-start on the day.” Thumper licked his teeth. He ain’t wanna admit that he got up outta prison-toned habit and that he ain’t got nothing on the agenda today.
He did have one chore he done got tasked with: his parole officer bin fussing at him to snag some employ. He was sposedta hump it to a job center to apply for work online. The job center was at a library, and it got this dickless sniveling smudgy-specs sunnyskin college-high nothing-muffin with a bone up his butt and quakes in his loafers to teach him how to use the internet. That Chinese boy’s name was Fancypunches, but Thumper ain’t tell him so yet.
Thumper weren’t shook up over the job search. Carson said he would arrange it.
So Thumper just be milling like a footless fighter on the street, where a stoop mighta been thirty-four years ago. Did they stop making stoops? He ain’t seen no new ones, and plentya old ones he remembered was gone.
Everything new looked the same, he thunk. Every building younger than him in Baltimore was identikit boxes in gray and black, like the world’s only architect musta got locked up at the same time he did.
He dithered in the barbershop when it opened, checking out the lookbook and considering hisself without no cornrows. He hoped sitting among niggas would feel like coming home again.
But they was ticking and tocking on they phones and conversating over soccer, and one them niggas said he got new pajamas, and another one’s girlfriend only ate raw vegans, and Thumper gathered that every single one them males be shaving they pubes, and they was drinking coffees made with butter, mochachiatto and “dragon’s fruit”, and the teevee got a scrawny honky plastic-surgeoning hisself into a starfish to protest the weather and ain’t nobody act like they was confuse about that, and then that grown-ass nigga who wore pajamas said the best teevee shows was not on the teevee, they was streaming outta cloud that his sister changed the password to, and ain’t nobody act like they got confuse about that neither. Something called “Poke He-Man Go” came up, but Thumper ain’t wanna ask what it was and look like some out-of-touch old head, because that was exactly what he was.
All morning they listened to some nutty-butter rap, Thumper could hardly believe it. Niggas rapping like a deflating balloon, beats dry as a frigid bitch, and every head in that barbershop a nod-along nelly. They was all sneaking eyes at Thumper like there was something wrong with him that only they could see.
When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he got a chill of not knowing what to do, and all them niggas saw it. Thumper wanna punch one’s lightbulb out, just to give ’em something else to remember, but he restrainted the urge.
Before, only bankers and coke dealers got cell phones, and they was as big as dictionaries. This one was a plasticy pop-tart as heavy as a nun’s fart. Every single nigga got one too, and mostly they was lost inside they’uns.
He looked at the phone with a flatness. Buncha them in the barbershop was facing him down like a trash-high, offroading, institutionized, broke-apart jailbird numb-nut nigga. The phone was like alien technology in his too-big hand, and all he could think about was them cool cats cackling up his kicks last night.
Carson done hookt him up with the phone and showed him how to use it, but Thumper blanked on what he said now. He touched the phone. That musta worked, cuz he heard Carson’s voice. “Yo, Thump? You in the barbershop?”
“Uh… Yeah.” Thumper said. He held the phone up to his face like a handheld radio.
“Come into the backroom, I’ll be there in a sec.”
Some in the shop simmered with subdued snickers like slippery niggas. Sidefacing that whack pack of rats, Thumper stepped out, still holding the phone up though he ain’t think Carson was there no more. Did folks leave the room if they took a cell call? Seemed like niggas be broadcasting private tidbits on the flagrant.
But he ain’t want them to know he be fucking this up, so he strutted fly and blithe into the back the barbershop, and he ain’t return the phone to his pocket till nobody could see him unsure if it was hung up or not.
“Yo, you wanna check out some females tonight?” Carson asked when Thumper got to the office. “I’ll take you to Lipsweet. You remember Lipsweet, right?”
“Hell yeah…” Thumper said with a soft whistle, realizing he ain’t heard no niggas whistle since his release — did niggas stop whistling?
Lipsweet was a strip club around long before Thumper’s lockup. Entirely different ladies dancing there now, of course. He’d like to find the ladies who was dancing a couple decades ago and see what they was up to. Bet they’d still purr fine as foxfur in they own way.
Thumper could dig a old lady with nice flappy pussylips too. He ain’t mind that one bit. Some sag’d sit nice on his pecker, and Thumper could dig a droopy tit or two. A old bitch wouldn’t snigga when he ask how to use his phone neither.
Carson said he’d “text him the details”. Couple minutes later, his phone vibrated again. Some words popped up on the screen and got a time on it.
So Thumper went up to his apartment and was ready to dip at that time. Sure enough, Carson swung by in a SUV then and drove him to Lipsweet.
The neighborhood was different than Thumper recollected it. All the neighborhoods they drove through was different — Ramspoint was ritzy and white, Bay North ain’t even a thing no more, Castle Street was desolate, East Middle was fulla young white folk with unpleasant hairstyles, and Factory Ridge got some kinda burnt-bamboo Chinese that Carson said was Lay-Oceans. But Lipsweet was still a grime-down shithole. The grime made it feel like home, and he liked that it was the same as ever.
Actually, a few things did change — the bar area was bigger, so there was less tables, and there weren’t no tiki jawns no more, plus it looked like the backrooms done got expanded.
Place was slow and low now though.
To a lazy beat with a hazy melody, a couple dozen niggas watched the dancers as if none them mattered, sneaking peeks at they phones like beepy crack-pipes. Droopy-eyed black girls be dancing like they was tired of it. Prolly wishing they was back on they phones. One them females looked at Thumper with a fraction of a smile and a beckonsome finger.
“Yo, you wanna get a private lapdance?” Carson asked. He carried a chocolatey grin when he reckoned the graceless hardon rocking Thumper’s pants.
“Fuck yeah, baby,” Thumper said. He ain’t realize how blatant his boner was until he stood up and Carson bugged at it. His stiffy was stabbing like a dagger, making Thumper bent over, too awkward to stand up straight.
“Arrange yo’ dick, old man,” Carson said with a dryness.
Thumper pointed his pecker up so the hardon weren’t so obvious. “Shit, nigga, lookit all them females…” He whistled. “Ain’t see females like that in prison.”
“Which one you want?”
“That one ovuh there, wigglin’ like a riddle,” Thumper said without a second think. He let out a low-boil growl at the sight of her. She was a fancy-fine lightskin gal with a ripe badonkadonk and tits spilling outta her skimpy top. She made Thumper’s dick hurt, and her thighs made the hurt worth it.
A silver grin on his foolish-ass face, Thumper widewalked around his hardon to the champagne room, while Carson retrieved the black girl with the bounciful booty. She came to Thumper with a shimmy in her hips and her eyes wide like a cartoon skunk.
“Aw, fuck yeah, guhl,” Thumper murmured. He plopped his erection into the chair in the center of the champagne room.
Wither-dicking R&B boomed out the speakers as she backed her ass up to him, but Thumper’s manhood drooled regardless. “I’m Sherry,” she said with a shrug and a snort, like she preferred no nigga remember her name. Thumper grabbed at her booty, moaning at its plumpness and tensing tall when she dragged his hands up her side to her tits.
She mighta said something else, Thumper ain’t know cuz the music was loud and nauseating and her sultry bosoms was soft as Santa’s belly. His dick throbbed like a hypertensive nigga and leaked precum all over his balls. She rubbed her booty, grinding it hard atop his crotch, like she was trying-a make him nut down under.
That was exactly what he did too, like a drippy teenager. Just as the song ended, Thumper closed his eyes and filled his drawers with a massive wad of cream. The jissom kept on flooding his thighs and his asscheeks and soaking into his socks.
But then the song was over, and Sherry murmured some words of low import before she slid out into the bar proper, on the prowl for another nigga with a prick aimed at her. Thumper grimaced when he stood, his swampy crotch marinating in his own juices now. He found some napkins to get up what he could, then he headed outta the champagne room hoping nobody could see.
A cigarette puffed in Carson’s lips, while uninterestedly he watched a girl dance onstage. Smoke fumed above Carson’s head, his stubbled mien lit by his cherry and the glow of the phone he ain’t never put down. Thumper came back to the table and sat in the cummy puddle of his pants.
“You the man, Carson,” Thumper said. “I know you ain’t gotsta do this much fo’ me.”
Carson scoffed. He got a cool-capping tone to his voice, like he want listeners to know he could honky down if he wanted to. “Nonsense, nigga. This organization has to respect its elders. You done yo’ time for us.”
“Wish I had my old homies around. But they scattered like peanuts, nigga.”
Carson shook his head and exhaled a thick plume of cigarette smoke. They both watched a new girl, a swarthy Asian lady, begin her dance — Lay-Ocean — real pretty but short and bony like a ant-farm scarecrow, with a tiny ass — Thumper seen bigger ballsacs on niggas in prison — but she look pretty enough if you sat real close. Then Carson said, “You can look ’em up on Facebook.” He saw Thumper’s face frumping aloud, and Carson picked up his phone. “Gimme a name.”
“Jerome Barkley.”
It took a few minutes. Finally Carson said, “Oh. He died three years ago.”
“Tyrone Franks.”
Carson sighed. “He died in prison in Oregon.” They went through all Thumper’s old niggas, but his face soured and sagged lower with each one. Reg O’Leary overdosed on his own supply. Tangiers Garraty shot hisself. Carl Munters got run over by a bus. Shankem Jones and Willie Donald both got shot by some nigga or another. Casey Carlisle’s fat heart gave out. Elsa Spit — the only dancer at Lipsweet whose real name Thumper recalled — got breast cancer and died just eight months ago.
There wasn’t a head from before who was still alive, ‘cept for Thumper.
He sat there nursing his drink, his dick limper than ever and shrinking like it done run outta shit to do in this life, while Carson be mad beeping and booping at his phone on the hunt for Thumper’s final nigga — Robert Smith, which ain’t a easy name to look up — there was about a million of ’em, including a rock singer.
But then Carson’s phone rang, startling both them. Carson was peering at the screen and dropped it with a little yelp when it vibrated. He picked it up to answer it. “Yo, what?” Carson’s calm smile turned into a tense frown. “Yo, what?! He… Aw, shit, Rico, that fuckin’ nigga… I’ll get him.” He hung up and like swiped or something at his phone, then he looked at Thumper. “You wanna take a ride?”
They dipped. Outside, the streets was a swampy night, and the sidewalks was choked with shiesty scrubs. They all knew Carson though and stayed outta his way. Thumper sat in the passenger seat of Carson’s SUV. It turned out that one of Carson’s dealers got arrested, not for nothing too serious — some itty-bitty possession beef, plus resisting arrest and disorderly conduct. Carson drove to the police station and went inside to bail him out.
“Oooooh, shit…” Thumper licked his teeth when Carson emerged from the jailhouse with the young cat. That nigga was darkskin and glamor-muscle but not big, with a nice smooth face like any shebody would fall in love with.
Thumper loved him too. He got feelings in his heart from the moment he spied that nigga. Thumper ain’t feel much love in prison, and he got used to finding it where he could.
And if he saw that nigga behind bars, he’d brew up a pot of love in that nigga’s phat booty, and he’d season that stew with all the right herbs and spices. You just know he got a drumskin-tight intact booty too. Could load lotta love into that dumptruck.
“Rico, this is Thumper. He a ex-con, just got released,” Carson said. “You two make nice, cuz you gonna be rooming together for awhile-“
“Aw, man, Carson, what?” Rico said with bickerish bitterness, like he ain’t never got disappoint before. Thumper was already imagineering how Rico would look without no clothes on. He’d be smooth and dark and undulating when the lights was off. He’d shimmy and shake just like that Sherry creature, and remembrancing her movements got Thumper so hard his nuts was finna splode in his soupy pants again. But for now, Rico was whipping out whine and sucking on his teeth. “I gotta share a place with him? Old head smells like a band-aid, nigga! Gimme my own place. I can’t live with old nigga, he prolly drink tea and shit. Put his hair in the drain-“
“Coffee gimme lumpy throat, nigga!” Thumper wagged a finger at Rico.
“Bullshit, Rico, fuck you!” Carson said. He got behind the wheel and drove off, Thumper and Rico in the back. “I gotta come bail you out. You got a ounce of coke confiscated. You was arrested just cuz you can’t shut your fool mouth. Now I am givin’ you a home to lay your dome down in, and you bitchin’ cuz you gotta share it? You best recalibrate your expectations, cuz I am not a endless nigga. You done reach my limit, I gone beyond it, and if I gotta go any farther, you gonna feel some consequences from the great beyond.”
Rico rolled his eyes but murmured, “Yeah, fine, whatevuh. Makin’ me move in wit’ old nigga past his prime, he a would-be has-been…”
Carson muttered out his mean-muggery. “Shit, nigguh can’t even act right when I am in the middle of doing him a favor…”
That car was fulla hostile mumbles, but Thumper was lost in his need for booty and maybe some decaf tea. Nigga got him thirsty.
Soon enough they was back in the hood, and the shivering silence in the car ain’t diminish when they all got out. Thumper showed Rico to the apartment above the barbershop — the Bloods gave him that apartment on the free-up, so Thumper ain’t mind sharing it, specially with a prettyface nigga like Rico.
Rico wore that handsome frown as his crown the whole time. He be sneaking dirty-dog eyes in Thumper’s direction as though any Rico’s predickyment was Thumper’s fault.
“You only got one bed,” Rico said when he saw the bedroom and its lonesome mattress.
“You count good. We gotsta double up,” Thumper said. “We gonna be snug as a hug, mah nigga.” He grinned. He patted Rico on the back. His hands lingered there, then moved under Rico’s shirt to rub his smooth back.
“Lemme uh…” Rico shrugged his shoulders to make Thumper leggo his back. “Lemme call my lawyer. And my girlfriend.”
“Oh, you got a guhl? Bring her ovuh!” Thumper said. He returned his hands to Rico’s back, and he whispered right into Rico’s ear. “Lemme mack on her. I’ll suck her clit while you fuck her.”
“Whaaat?!” Rico held his phone in hand.
“If yo’ dick slip out and I lick it some, won’t bothuh me none. C’mon, nigga… Get me some trim,” Thumper said. He rammed his hand down the back of Rico’s saggy jeans. He gripped his asscheek hard, like he was trying-a rip it off. It was damn smooth, pert near hairless, and you could just tell it was gonna shine — Thumper loved a shiny nigga. He growled into Rico’s ear. “Lemme fuck yo’ guhl. Tell her to give up her booty if she bleedin’ outta her period. She do booty, right? Does she lick yo’ butthole? Cuz I will lick her’n. I will eat her asshole like a chicky pot pie.” He mimed eating a very big pot pie with a itty-bitty spoon.
“What, no?!” Rico backed away. “Step off, nigga!” He shortfooted from Thumper, then left the apartment without dropping his hound-dog frown. Thumper heard him out in the hallway on that relentless phone, talking to his lawyer, then his girl, then some niggas, then his mama — Rico be mad after a place to park his poker.
Not wanting to make his roommate discomfitted, Thumper showered and cleaned his cummy balls. Then he went out in stale-scent duds straight from the thrift shop. It was getting to early evening, past suppertime in prison, and his clock-happy stomach let him know it. So he hightailed it to a pizza jawn and bringed back food. When he returned to the apartment, Rico done dip.
Thumper weren’t shook up. Rico prolly staying with his girlie, Thumper thunk. Or he sleeping on some nigga’s couch. That won’t last.
He ate his pizza alone. All he thinking about was choking down mushy food at crowded tables that smelled like too many niggas. In prison, everywhere was cramped and full-up. Out here, everyspot was empty ‘cept for phone screens. Baltimore was a quiet blip upon the world’s surface. The longer Thumper spent past the prison gates, the worse he got with the broad open tangles of the free world. Confinatory walls circumscribed chaos into legibility, but the night-sky teemed fulla forever, and Thumper got lost in the sterile black screen of the buttonless teevee. He ain’t even try working that remote control. Them sky-bound stars in the window ain’t sparkle the same as those precious stars he peeped seldom as angels behind bars.
When his belly was fulla greasy pizza, Thumper worked his jimmies out. Carson bought him a gym membership, but Thumper ain’t know where the gym was or what the plastic jawn Carson gave him meant — presumitably, he gotsta display it to get through the door, but it ain’t look like no identification. Thumper just did burpees like he was used to, and he lifted a gallon of milk before gulping from it.
So he bedded down lonefully. About thirty seconds after he laid his melon, there came a knockity-knock at the door.
“Rico?” Thumper opened it on Rico a-frowning that face, so forlorn like a frayed wire. He pushed past Thumper to enter the apartment.
“Alright, old head, I’ll stay here,” Rico said with a scowl. He be mad on that frowning trip. “My girl dumped me!”
“Aw, shit, nigga, that’s some horsehockey, yes it is,” Thumper said. He touched Rico on the cheek. “You forget about that bitch. She ain’t worth yo’ time.”
Rico wrinkled his nose at notice of Thumper wearing nothing but prison drawers, his biggity dickmeat bulging against the fabric, his unkempt pubes poking out the fly. “Nigga, put some shorts on or some shit.”
“Nah.” Thumper led Rico to the bedroom. “C’mon, it’s bedtime.”
“It’s ten o’clock,” Rico said.
It took Thumper a second to realize Rico said the time because that was early to him. “Ten o’clock bin lights-out for damn near e’ry night I spent on God’s green Earth,” Thumper said. “So c’mon.” He went into the bedroom. “Leave yo’ phone out here.”
“I ain’t tired,” Rico said.
Thumper ain’t used to niggas being free men making they own choices. In the cell, if he telled a nigga it was time for bed, that nigga best get sleepy. Thumper ran that cell on point. “Go take a shower, nigga. Shower is in the hall.”
Rico sucked on his teeth and nodded. “I ain’t got… y’know, no towel or nothin’.”
“Hmm-hmm,” Thumper murmured. He liked the idea of Rico hiking up the hall buffly brown, his tight tushy dripping like a nigga popsicle melting in the night.
But that old bat Vera might see his dingading-doo. So Thumper gave him a towel, a washcloth and a bar soap, and Rico frowned out that not a single nigga in the universe used bar soap no more — a modern nigga be using “body wash” — but he scampered off to the shower to scrub up irregardless. Thumper wanted Rico clean as a squeaky puppy.
Somebody must buy bar soap, they got ’em in the store, Thumper thunk.
He lay down waiting for Rico. Sleep hit him good and hard up the skull — Thumper got that regulatory sleep schedule. Ten o’clock came, and his body was presumitave that the time for slumber was now.
So he was only dimly awake when Rico returned from the shower, his skin a-tingling and burnished. Rico hesitated in the dark apartment, but he sensed that Thumper wouldn’t tolerate him turning on the teevee or no lights or nothing, so he plugged his phone in and slipped into bed when it seemed Thumper was deep in nod.
He lay there in the darkness and silence. Thumper’s body radiated warmth and that old-band-aid smell, and his weight hefted heavy on the mattress, which made Rico slide bit by bit closer to him. He ain’t feel hisself moving, but he gotsta keep scooting back to the edge or he’d be nuzzling Thumper’s shoulder.
Rico sighed and closed his eyes. He wished he ain’t backtalk that cop.
Soon, Rico found Thumper’s heavy body curling up around him. He smelled musty and salty as a few beads of nightsweat popped up on Thumper’s shoulders, and his arm was thicker than Rico’s head. His nose nuzzled Rico’s neck.
That rendered Rico wide awake.
“Yo, nigga! Nigga!” Rico hissed, quiet though there weren’t nobody around to overhear. Thumper’s nuzzles turned to moist kissery on Rico’s handsome cheekbones. “Thumper, wake up! Get off me!”
“Ssshhh…” Thumper’s lips planted on Rico’s. Thumper moaned into Rico’s mouth as his tongue invaded. That nigga tasted as sweet as Thumper bin expecting, sweet as a free summer’s day, sweet as meadowy candy. Thumper licked his loving face.
Rico squirmed. His tight little muscles was hard as metal bars beneath Thumper’s grasp, but they wasn’t big. He got no heft on Thumper, whose chest pressed down on Rico’s tautness. His muscles flexed perky under Thumper’s callused fingers like battering bats.
The bedroom filled with Rico squealing outta the sides of his mouth plugged up by Thumper’s tongue. The smell and taste of Thumper’s liniment or pomade or some old-nigga shit like that overwhelmed Rico and bringed tears to his eyes. Thumper’s callused hands roamed over Rico’s smooth body, rough-handling him like a disobedient steak.
Thumper was immovable, despite Rico on claw at his back. Thumper ain’t care. He just kissed.
It felt damn good to kiss a clean nigga like Rico. In prison, a nigga like that would be expensive. A nigga like Carson wouldn’t just put a nigga like Rico in with a nigga like Thumper in prison.
He pulled down Rico’s boxers, tongue still invading Rico’s mouth, and he gripped Rico’s cock and balls with both hands. Rico finally squirmed his mouth off Thumper’s.
“What the fuck, old man?!” he sputtered.
“You said you ain’t got no female no more,” Thumper said. Rico sat up, but Thumper kissed him on the cheek, hugging his little body close. He stroked Rico’s limp dick too. Rico panted and pushed Thumper’s chest. Thumper was too heavy though, and he just moaned at Rico’s touch. His scratchy voice resonated in Rico’s ear. “C’mon, nigga, lemme pull a nut out. I’ll fill you up so good you forget where babies come from. We be deep in the downlow, nigga, ain’t nobody gotsta know.”
“I don’t — what does that mean?!?!?!!” Rico cried out, but Thumper plugged up that nonsense with his tongue again. He grabbed a tube of lube from the bedside table, and he smeared a big wad of it over Rico’s shiny booty. He pulled Rico to lay on his side, and one Thumper’s hands massaged his buttcrack with a palmful of lube, while Thumper’s other callus-thick hand aggressively stroked Rico’s limp pecker.
“Hey, nigga, what’s Poke He-Man Go?” Thumper asked.
The question was so incongruent Rico stopped a-wriggling. “Huh?” Rico gulped. Thumper’s brick-like fingers smeared more cold goop in his ass, then he rolled Rico over. Thumper’s chest hair rubbed against Rico’s back, and Rico struggled but remained ensconced in Thumper’s powerful arms.
Thumper took that moment to ram his cocktip into Rico’s tight asshole. Rico squealed, and his whole body tightened. His butt clenched around Thumper’s cock. “I axed, what’s a Poke He-Man Go?”
“Wha…? Ow, shit, nigga, ow, ow, ow, shit, whatchoo doin’, Thumper? Thump! Quit playin’-“
“What’s Poke He-Man Go?” Thumper asked again. He was kneeling behind Rico, who be on his knees too. The bed creaked under them. Rico tried to squirm away, but the pain made him wince, and Thumper drilled in a little deeper. “What’s Poke He-Man Go? Explain this shit, c’mon. You my nigga, right? So help a nigga out, damn. Why’s it a pro’lem when a li’l Lay-Ocean guhl come to a barbershop for a Poke He-Man Go Jim?”
“You mean Pokemon Go! It’s a game!” Rico said. His voice was tense and clipped. “It’s a mobile game!” His hands waved around behind hisself as he tried to dig at Thumper. “It’s… augmented reality.”
Thumpter stopped moving. He lowered his noggin and furrowed his forehead at Rico. “What?”
“Nigga, lemme go!”
“Whats’at mean?” Thumper asked. He gripped Rico’s shoulders and held on tight, drilling his dick in deeper. He threw out a moan and slapped Rico’s buttcheek. That broke something open, and Thumper was able to ram mad inches into that nigga behind.
Intense pain erupted in Rico’s backside. He squirmed and tried to scream, but Thumper placed one meaty hand over his mouth. His other hand gripped Rico’s cock and gave it a few strokes. It was limp as a spineless snake. Shivers of pleasure ran through Thumper’s body, and he let out a creaky moan like a crypt being opened.
That made Rico shudder. He bit at the pillow beneath his head.
“It’s — ow, fuck, c’mon, nigga, whatchoo doin’?” Rico panted. He hung his head, his whole body sagging like he wanted to lay down but it hurt.
“C’mon, nigga, don’t be shamey,” Thumper said. “We just messin’ around on the downlow. You want a reacharound, right? You ain’t a punk if you get yo’ nut off at the same time.” His callused old-man hand kept on jacking Rico’s dick as he plowed into his butt, like Thumper ain’t realize yet that Rico’s meat stayed soft. “Yo’ butt feel damn good. Squeeze it around my dick some, squeeze it good-“
“Ow, fuck, fuck, c’mon, Thump, don’t be a booty bandit!” Rico’s daddy and uncle Jermaine bin told him to stay away from ex-cons and don’t never bend over afront them, and now Rico realized how good that advice was. “That’s nasty pervert shit!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Thumper snapped. His meaty hands caressed Rico’s back and kneaded his flesh. “Ain’t nobody gots a right to judge — nigga, please!” He was annoyed now. He pushed Rico’s head down, pulled his ass up and gripped his nape to keep him in place. His barrel chest done left a sheen of sweat on Rico’s clean back. “You ain’t nevuh got locked up for thirty-four years, nigga, don’chu tell me what to do!”
“Ow, fuck! I ain’t-! It ain’t-! I ain’t-! C’mon, Thumper, c’mon-!” Rico cried out.
Thumper was all the way in now, plowing so hard Rico’s whole body shook. Rico bit back a scream of pain. He pushed hisself face-first into the mattress, which stank like Thumper’s band-aidy ass. Thumper massaged Rico’s back and shoulders as he pounded back and forth. He was so damn lean, ain’t got extra skin and scars and smudgey tattoos done by Italians. It made Thumper wanna own him forever. Thumper kissed him on the prettiness of his back, and Rico squirmed and roared like a sexy cougar.
“Hey nigga,” Thumper said as he lowered hisself again to the apex of his descent, all the way in, so Rico was holding his breath, asscheeks quivering like jello. His booty squeezed and massaged Thumper’s shaft just right, like it was begging for nuts. He was all the way into the wreck of Rico’s guts, his balls laying heavy on Rico’s taint. “Hey nigga?”
“What?!” Rico gritted his teeth and shouted into the mattress.
“If we was in prison, you’d be in love right now,” Thumper grunted out into Rico’s ear.
Thumper’s cock throbbed and spewed a wad into Rico. Thumper groaned into his ear and nibbled on his earlobe, as his voice broke and a wave of pleasure frissoned up Thumper’s spine. Heat seeped into Rico’s flesh, and both them niggas moaned, Thumper’s a croon of desire and Rico’s a cringe of pain. He felt jissom trickling inside him, and Rico winced and gritted.
At last, Thumper pulled most the way out, still nutting, so he could see his veiny shaft pulsate in the dim light. Splashes of manjuice leaked out Rico and down to the mattress.
“Oh shit, nigga, we makin’ a mess. I blame you. You a spillsy nigga,” Thumper said with another thrust all the way into him for one more jissing. That caused Rico’s sensitive asshole to twinge with pain, and he howled.
His final cumwad flowed into Rico, but Thumper ain’t stop right away — he was plowing on auto-pilot. He rammed his dick back in and out, churning his nut into a big frothy mess. Soon his shaft was limp and doubling up like a phone cable on Rico’s shinier-than-ever backside, and it popped out.
“Oh god, fuck, Thumper, don’t… thank god, that hurt, nigga-“
Oodles of ooz gooed up Rico’s buttcrack, but Thumper licked up every drop of that felchy fluid outta Rico’s shine. He tasted like funk-a-butt, and Thumper slathered love in Rico’s tender crack.
Then he mounted Rico’s smoothness and kissed it all into his pretty-nigga mouth.
The taste of his own assjuice and Thumper’s salty semen made Rico’s eyes opened wide, when he realized what that foul taste was. He screamed but Thumper still kissed him, and he swallowed that scream up. The stink smeared between both nigga faces. It got into Thumper’s salty beard hairs and between the cornrows on his old head.
Eventually, Thumper moistly pulled his tongue outta Rico’s mouth. Rico lay, a-breathing heavy and suppressing gags because Thumper pinched him when he retched.
So Thumper again kissed him, and this time Rico didn’t resist, even when he again tasted his own ass-funk on Thumper’s lips. Thumper’s hand wrapped around his cock and stroked. Rico ignored it, trying-a settle his stomach and ignore his sore ass. He whimpered a little. Thumper’s hand was so big and so callused it was like sandpapery leather on Rico’s dick, which shrinky-dinked with every passing moment. Rico wiped his face off, but the smell of cum and ass persisted.
“C’mon, nigga, get hard,” Thumper whispered into Rico’s ear. “I’ll help.” He moved his head down, licking a trail over Rico’s pecs and belly, and he put Rico’s cocktip in his mouth. He suckled on it like he was getting something outta it, and Rico gasped in surprise.
He ain’t expect that at all. He was still in too much pain to get hard, he thunk, but his dick did begin to firm up despite hisself. The goo on his face made it hard to focus on the warm wetness of Thumper’s mouth encircle his shaft. Thumper gripped it with one hand and licked the length of it, shuddering back a gag.
Rico was still rumbling up a retch too, as Thumper soon lay on his side, opposite to Rico, so he could slurp on Rico’s knob. That placed Thumper’s own santorum-coated cock not far from Rico’s face. It flopped onto Rico’s chin. The smell of his own ass and the slimy remains of Thumper’s cumwad clinging to the shaft made Rico wrinkle his nose.
A painful wrack of pleasure made Rico suck in his breath. “Shit, nigga!” Rico banged his head on the wall, as Thumper’s mouth filled with oozes of prenut.
Thumper was merely getting Rico started — that was a prison thing. It cost less than actually paying a nigga to swallow a nut. “Getting a nigga started” meant putting his pecker in your mouth and stiffening it, then pulling off when you taste prenut and finishing the nigga with your hand. Lotta niggas would get’cha started for cheap but consider it humiliating to actually taste a nut.
And Thumper ain’t mind that too bad. But Thumper got carried away when he tasted salty precum, and it felt so real, so visceral, that he ain’t wanna pull off. He be thinking he got more time.
So he throated that nigga dick until his nose smushed into Rico’s trimmed pubes. Thumper let his throat stretch around it, and he savored the feel of its hotness throbbing in his belly like a second heart.
Then Rico shot a big creamy load that coated Thumper’s gullet. Neither them niggas was expecting it — Rico was barely aware he was even hard, while Thumper was off in dreamland and exulting in the smooth young muscles of Rico’s body. He liked the cocoa-butter flavor of Rico’s skin, so he ain’t pull off until his mouth overflowed with sunshines of jissom.
He removed his lips from Rico’s manhood and spat all that cum up onto Rico’s face. He mounted Rico’s limp body so he couldn’t get away, and though Rico shook his head left and right, Thumper pinned him down and coated his face in juices. Eventually the cum dwindled to pure spit, but Thumper liked that too.
All that whatever on Rico’s face made him a extra-shiny nigga.
Rico gagged violently. He tried to get up, but Thumper still wouldn’t let him. “Nah, nah, you done made a mess, lemme make it bigguh.” Thumper smeared the nut all over Rico’s face with his tongue. The bracing saltiness and the intense funk made Thumper wrinkle his nose, but every time he did, Rico let out a shallow-breath gag and undulated his perky frame beneath Thumper’s tired old muscles.
Then he lay down and pulled Rico to lay down with him on the soggy mattress. Rico’s whole body was covered in body fluids.
“C’mon, let’s go to sleep,” Thumper whispered hotly into his ear, which he nibbled on like a juicy raisin. “In the mornin’, you gonna be dry again, and then you can shower.” Making a man sleep covered in jizz made him more amenable to the downlow in the future, and he was likely to make Rico dirty again when he woke up at dawn anyway.
He still got that prison schedule in him, after all.
“Man, nigga, Thumper, that hurt,” Rico said in a hoarse whisper. “That was so gross. Lemme shower-“
“Sorry, nigga. You’ll get used to it,” Thumper said. He hugged Rico buddy-tight and snuffled up the fudgey nuts and full-butt scent that clung to Rico’s lumps. “You nevuh finished explainin’ what ‘Pokemon Go’ is. Do I gotsta get one?”
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Chapter Five: Crossing the Bridge
Chapter Six: The Sauciest Noodle
Thumper Meets the Ultimate Evil
Chapter One: Out of Touch
Chapter Two: The Fossil
Chapter Three: That Ain’t Gangsta
Chapter Four: Old Nigga
Chapter Five: Unfashioned
Chapter Six: A Corrective Statement
Chapter Seven: Cool at Last
The Bloods meeting was at the barbershop on the same street as Lipsweet. The Gregarian building was built around the barbershop, a forgotten story of bricks whose backyard done sprout that monstrosity that grew to take over the resta the block. Thumper’s bladder neck be bugging when he got there, so he first went to take a piss, the sound of niggas gathering in the barbershop growing louder as they arrived in small groups. All the hoopdey-hoos in the Bloods came to the meeting.
He ain’t understand why Carson wanted him — Carson was the head nigga in the Bloods of Bangor. Thumper was a Blood, but he wasn’t involved in any Blood business, and he was on parole, so he couldn’t do much. His parole officer be riding his tail for real, and parolees got no constitutionals against being recorded, followed or searched.
So putting a parolee on anything important was foolish as tossing beans.
Still, it felt good to be surrounded by real-time niggas again, just like in lockup. He got to the barbershop early, so he got nothing to do. That was just like lockup too. He ain’t know none the niggas who gathered, which was unlike lockup, except for Davon, who showed up like a smooth sac of pointless dimples, smiling at everything but responding to nothing, like he ran outta reality, looking like a charred koala bear, shit, he just sat there, like a boatload of cuteness collided with a glacier of too-good-for-this and went down in a sea of swooning females. He got on a shiny shirt with like Chinese letters or some shit all over it, like Davon was too handsome for the English alphabet. He wore a white band-aid on his cheek too. As if he’d ever risk letting his cheekbone get cut.
Them niggas Thumper don’t know was milling and filling the air through with gab and daps and hairdos, but Thumper sat alone. They all avoided watching him brood like a bothered tiger. That’s what Thumper woulda thunk too, thirty-some years ago, if he saw a cast-iron nigga sitting on his lonesome surrounded by young cats he ain’t talk to. He ain’t put out menace, but they all picked it up. Outgoing ex-cons get a million nosey questions from numptious niggas, so Thumper was glad to scare ’em off. If they all got to chatting at him like lightbulby poppa-rot-seas, he’d-a most likely dropped one or maybe all. So he gloomed around like a ex-con who pretty niggas should stay away from, and they did so, wise as newspapers.
A young nigga named Rico came in just before Carson got to talking. That grabbed Thumper’s attention — Rico was the other nigga from that script Delsinerr gave him. The name sounded omens to Thumper.
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.
Doing time for the Bloods meant Thumper still got respect here. Frightened respect, but that still counts. When Thumper told Rico to come sit by him, Rico got no choice but to fulfill every one of Thumper’s expectations. Namely, to sit next to him so Thumper could go grope-a-dope during the meeting. Rico and Thumper got naked as noodles too — all the niggas in the meeting got naked, as Carson requisited. That was to ensure nobody got no recording devices and so nobody could palm no heroin when they weighed it out into lor baggies later.
Not a matter of trust. If it’s a rule you enforce every time, it’s no big deal. If you only make a nigga do it when you don’t trust him, then every time you do it, it’s a big deal, it’s telling a nigga he ain’t trusted and prolly won’t never be. So Carson made ’em do it every time, and no nigga felt singled out.
Thumper did feel singled out due to his out-of-fashion clothes. All the niggas snuck secret snickers at his old-school jeans, which he bought at a thrift store cuz he couldn’t find a normal men’s clothing store. They looked at him like a accidental dinosaur.
Naked, Davon looked like modern music sounded. Goddamn Thumper do hate him. He held Rico close like it would protect Thumper from Davon being a tubba shit. Rico was high on his frowns when they all took they clothes off. He was bitsy and cute like a baby snapping turtle, both skinny and muscular, and he carried hisself like he ain’t realize he was young and pretty and short. Once he stripped outta his fancy shirt and his pokeymon shoes, he was looking even littler and handsomer. He sat down afront Thumper, who wrapped his arms around his back. Thumper’s hot crotch touched Rico on his spine, which felt good as candy to Thumper.
“Hmm-“
“Nigga…” Rico bristled, but he ain’t fight. He let Thumper hug him from behind. Lotta niggas was touching muchly in they nakedness during the meeting, as Carson went on about the need to send niggas to the college campus. That was untapped territory, Carson said. But it was a men’s college. Nobody wanna do it cuz a nigga never gonna get pussy on campus, and Carson bin telling them for months to sling there.
“Ssssh…” Thumper said soft as a teddy bear into Rico’s ear. Rico’s muscles rippled beneath his touch, as Thumper’s hands drifted up and down Rico’s arms. Rico stayed tense. His head looked around frantic as a llama like he hoped the touch-police noticed Thumper’s fingers. Not a nigga noticed cuz him and Thumper sat in the back. Carson musta seen, but Carson let Thumper do his thing — Thumper’s current thing was Rico. Thumper done his time for the Bloods, and he was allowed to take liberties with a nigga when he need to.
Finally Carson ordered some bangers to sling heroin at the college campus. He told ’em he’d send some hos they way if they did good enough, and that was enough to quiet they rumbles of discontent. Carson wanted the gang to take every inch of this city, cuz otherwise the Crips or the Latin Kings or somebody else would take it.
Or the Seventh Street Playas. They was some rap-eyed niggas who done peel off from the Crips. That was good. They ain’t join up with the Bloods though. That was bad. They was “gramming” videos in a instant, and in ’em, they claimed Bangor was all Seventh Street Playas territory. Thumper ain’t wanna axe what gramming is, less he confirm he was a out-of-touch old head. If they wanna claim a whole city, why’d they name theyselves after one street? Dumbass niggas doing dumbass nigga shit. Mention of ’em caused the naked niggas all around to erupt in naysays and whoops. It got the whole room worked up enough for they dinkydoos to jiggle like excited baseball bats.
“We need some niggas to strike at the Seventh Street Playas. They a buncha triflin’ niggas, they ain’t shit. We know where they got they HQ,” Carson said. “We know they schedule. You can hit ’em when they ain’t barely got nobody there. Might have to shoot some niggas, and you’ll come away with weight for sure.”
Ain’t not a nigga say a word.
The silence grew taut as a wire, and Thumper reckoned that Carson expected him to volunteer hisself. Thumper done time for the Bloods, so they was obligationed toward him. But duties went both ways. Thumper could still get gived a assignment.
Still, he kept both hands around Rico’s waist and kept his lips shut, despite Rico standing up on his frowns. Then some other nigga spoke up, and he said he could do something, but from the murmurs hushing under and the unconfident look on Carson’s face, Thumper gathered that that other nigga wasn’t regarded as capable of doing what it took.
But Carson ain’t say peep to Thumper. He just moved on without a solution to the Seventh Street Playas problem. They finished up Bloods business, and then they all got to weighing out heroin. Thumper ain’t weigh much, he focused on rubbing Rico all over. Rico focused on frowning and scooting away, you know how a young nigga do! All them other ugly niggas focused on not looking at Rico or hearing him protest. Nobody wanna see where Thumper’s hands went.
Davon ain’t stick around, cuz he gotta go home and polish his dimples. He prolly got honkies to suck up to and women to agree with. Or maybe he worked at Lipsweet tonight. Anyway, Thumper still be hating on him till he walked out the door. His drawers was plain white tonight, as was his band-aid, but you could tell them drawers was some name-brand, prolly something Italian, bet they cost a pretty penny and he’d throw ’em away if they ever get a skidmark, goddamn, he too good to fart. Thumper ain’t gonna fixate on that nigga though. Not when he got a young pretty thing like Rico to touch all over. Rico be mad on that frown train, choo choo! His frown made his muscles pucker and ripple and shine! Davon wouldn’t never allure a nigga, that was the difference between him and Rico.
“Rico, Thumper, you two stay behind fo’ a second,” Carson said when the weighing was done. He told the rest them niggas to put they clothes on and bounce.
They all did as told, while Rico tensed up like a bossy tambourine. Thumper hugged tight on Rico’s shoulders from behind him, and his hands roamed up and down Rico’s chest. Rico be bugging. All the other niggas whisked off into the rainless night, and the now-dressed Carson looked at Thumper and Rico — who stayed naked — like he ain’t notice Thumper’s hands running up and down Rico’s tight body.
Carson done met a booty bandit, so he weren’t shook up. All them niggas was prolly laughing about it soon as they left the barbershop. Thumper looked silly to young eyes. Rico was just eighteen, and he ain’t know a booty bandit was a real thing, he thought it was the nigga equivalent of a werewolf, something to be afraid of but not believe in. Rico pouted like a teapot beneath Thumper’s leathery hands. His dick throbbed where it lay hot as a rocket against Rico’s back.
It wasn’t erect, but if Thumper moved it, it prolly would be. So Thumper kept his stick still as a statue while his hands did they exploratories.
Then Carson said, with a wrinkle of his wide nose, “Rico, Thumper, glad you two met. Rico, you gonna be livin’ ‘bove the bar, in Thumper’s place.”
That sounded fine as fuck to Thumper. He ain’t live alone for a long time, so a roommate would be nice. He liked the idea of having a prettyboy nigga around to touch bunches. Rico got a nice shiny booty too, and you know Thumper love a shiny nigga.
Rico got less love for that idea. “What? C’mon, Carson, I don’t wanna live with old nigga! He lame! He could be my grandpa! Be cool, nigga!”
“Shut up, pup,” Thumper said, still hugging Rico from behind. Rico’s perfectly seductive muscles stayed as firm as his frown. Thumper wondered what Rico was gonna do if he met Delsinerr — prolly run away screaming and live the resta his life in a asylum. That was how almost everyone responded, Thumper was pretty sure. He was different cuzza his time in prison. He lost the flight part of his fight or flight instinct, but he was smart enough not to fight Delsinerr. Rico would flight and lose touch with reality. Prolly wouldn’t be pretty no more.
“You said you’d get me a place to live, not a spot on old nigga’s couch-“
“I got a bed, nigga!” Thumper wagged a finger at Rico.
“Old nigga smell like a band-aid! He prolly watch the news! Drinkin’ tea and shit, damn, Carson, I can’t bring bitches ovuh wit’ him there-” Rico shrank back when Thumper shot a dirty look down at him.
“Yes, you can,” Thumper said. “You got a female, bring her ovuh! We can double-team her. Go dick to dick in her pussy if she loose enough. Or you can lick her clit while I fuck her. You can slurp my jizz out her asshole, nigga. Shluurp! Hmm-hmm, yummy-“
“Step off, old nigga!”
Carson held out one hand and scrunched his face into a discomfitted mug. “Shut the fuck up, Rico. You needed a place to live. I got you one. Quit yo’ bitchin’, nigguh,” he said. “Go get settled in, Rico. I’ll come by later.”
They moved to get dressed as Carson left. Rico was conducting the frown train that whole time. Looking like he’s owed the world, damn did that nigga have a cute frown. Thumper wanna stick a dress on his frown and marry it.
After grabbing a duffel bag he done left in the barbershop, Rico walked with heavy steps up to the Gregarian building and then up to the apartment. Thumper was more eager. He felt like a lor boy having a sleepover back in Baltimore again.
“C’mon, nigga, we go’n have fun, swear to God. You go’n love livin’ wit’ me.”
But Rico clucked his tongue against his teeth, and he ain’t say nothing. He was still sullen as a stew when they got into the apartment, and Rico aimed his frown at that solo bed. Rico weren’t a share-a-bed kinda nigga, it seemed.
“You only got one bed,” Rico said.
Thumper nodded. “You some kinda mathematician or something?”
“No, I just… You said you had a bed for me.”
“I said I had a bed. It’s right there. We go’n be snug as a hug, my nigga.”
Rico looked like he was brainstorming a way outta this, as Thumper pulled down Rico’s pants. Rico was took unawares. He was one them niggas with dimples so perfect on his face that they spread to his asscheeks too. Shiny as wine! Thumper licked his lips. Rico was pretty like Davon, but Davon was easygoing, while Rico go some bite in his back. And Rico was a decade younger than Davon. Maybe in ten years, Rico be smiling like Davon, but for now he was frowning like a faggot of sultry sticks.
“Hey, old nigga, whatchoo doin’?” Rico threw his eyebrows back, and he shuffled off the best he could with his pants around his ankles. Thumper ain’t pay his guff no mind. He pulled down his own pants and took off his shirt. Rico be facing the other way. Fool-ass nigga aiming his pretty ass at Thumper’s old-ass nigga face. Lotta ass in that apartment.
Thumper’s fingers kneaded Rico’s plump buttcheeks, which made Rico turn around finally and see that Thumper was naked too. Rico frowned so hard he liketa grow a second mouth just for frowning.
“C’mon, nigga, watchoo doin’? Quit playin’,” Rico said. Thumper pulled him closer, planted his lips on Rico’s and stuck his tongue right in that prettyboy mouth. He tasted like a daffodil, or whatever flower got the sexiest frown, Thumper ain’t a florist. Rico sputtered and pulled away. “Quit playin’, old nigga! Whatchoo doin’?”
“Shush. You go’n be my nighttime female,” Thumper said. He grabbed Rico’s shoulders before he could get far away, and he gripped Rico by the tit — Rico got nice lor apple-sized pecs, too firm to be tits, but Thumper could pretend. Thumper got a great imagination for women’s bodyparts. “C’mon, make sounds like a female. We go’n get hot and dirty, Rico, dirty like rice, hot like spice-“
“Get off me-“
But Thumper kissed him again to make Rico stop his complaining. He kept going, but Thumper swallowed them protestations up. Rico got lost in Thumper’s massive arms. Thumper’s hands kept at Rico’s titless pecs.
In prison, Thumper woulda put a padded bra on Rico, plus makeup and a wig and these big-girl panties with a life-size pussy printed on both the front and the back. Thumper don’t need that to pretend, but it was fun to do anyway, and once Rico was used up, Thumper could pimp him out to all the ugliest niggas in that place.
Eventually he’d get to begging Thumper to be the only one to make love to him, and Thumper would oblige.
Out here in the real world though, Thumper couldn’t do that. Not enough ugly niggas. All the ugly niggas was in prison, doing they part to turn handsome men like Rico into uglier niggas.
Anyway, when Thumper had enough playing games, he bent Rico over the bed they was gonna share. He slammed Rico’s face into the mattress, keeping Rico’s ass high enough to spread them buttcheeks. He got them beautiful dimples dimpling like dumplings on Rico’s dumptruck, like his asshole was smiling at Thumper.
Thumper returned a smile to Rico’s ass with interest — “interest” being Thumper’s tongue, which he slammed in there to open him up. Thumper don’t got lube handy, so he used his spit. Rico howled.
“Old nigga, what-?” Rico sucked in his breath. Thumper lapped at Rico’s asshole with plentya spit. It tasted pretty as a petunia, or whichever flower got the tastiest butthole, Thumper ain’t a botanist. Thumper rammed his tongue in there deep as steeping tea! He be tasting all the unexplored flavor of that nigga asshole, and Rico’s ripe apple-cheeks swelled and jiggled like tits around Thumper’s face. Rico tried to get up, but Thumper punched him hard in the side.
“Stay still.” Thumper’s tongue ran all the way from Rico’s taint up to the small of his back, and Thumper’s sausagey fingers teased his tight hole. Rico’s back curved up like a seductive arch.
Kisses running up Rico’s smooth spine, Thumper groaned and moaned and slathered spit on his scalp. Then he rammed his dick at Rico’s butthole. Rico cried out, and he clenched hard. Thumper ain’t mind. He knew how to break a nigga open. Just the tip went in. Rico sucked on his breath.
“Shit! Nigga!” Rico howled. He panted and clawed at the bed.
“Ssssshhhh…” Thumper said. He ain’t need Rico to shush. He kinda liked hearing that prettyboy voice ring out like a girlish bell. But Thumper was used to hiding the sounds from the guards and from the Aryans — who do tease a nigga for being a booty bandit. Thumper don’t like being teased by Aryans, ‘specially when they got factual accuracy on they side.
He wrapped one arm around Rico’s neck, and he squeezed just enough to make him stop clenching. His asshole opened. Thumper’s dick slid in. A shiver of intense pleasure ran up Thumper’s spine.
“C’mon, c’mon! You can’t! Carson ain’t — Carson ain’t-“
Thumper laughed. “Whatd’ya think Carson sent you to me fo’, nigga? He knew I wanna bust a nut,” he said. He sighed like Rico’s butthole was scratcing a itch Thumper couldn’t reach. “Shit, nigga-“
“Ow, c’mon! Quit playin’!” Rico said.
Thumper’s moan intensified in Rico’s ears, making him wriggle and jiggle like a seductive dolphin. That made his booty squeeze Thumper’s dingdong most pleasant-like indeed. Thumper leggo his neck, and Rico’s ass loosened enough for Thumper to ram in deeper. “Damn!”
“C’mon, old nigga-“
“I love you, nigga,” Thumper said with a chuckle. He be working his dick in and out, and Rico’s tightness gripped it the whole time — that’s what was so nice about a intact nigga. His guts don’t wanna let a nigga meat go.
Stopping moving, Thumper let out another moan. He be getting close now. He stopped moving with his manhood all the way up there, throbbing in Rico’s guts. Thumper got a foot-long dick, plus some to spare, and Rico’s whole body be writhing and massaging it, as Rico panted and heaved.
“Shit, nigga, shit, nigga, shit, nigga-” Rico be broken.
It did get Thumper going though. He stayed motionless to make this last longer, cuz he could tell any motion on his part gonna make his balls explode. Rico be writhing enough anyway. “Hey, nigga, tomorruh go to the store and buy some hog fat.”
“Shit, nigga, shit, nigga… What?”
“Hog fat.” Thumper frowned like Rico. From the silence, he gathered Rico don’t know what hog fat is. That’s the best lube in prison, maybe the best in the world. Outside niggas don’t know. “Hog fat, nigga! Lard. Get lard.”
“What?”
“Get lard! It’s at the store!” Thumper said. “Damn, a modern nigga is stupid!”
Through his clenched teeth, Rico said, “Why?”
“Cuz then I can ramrod you more easy,” Thumper said, and his voice broke. Rico squirmed, and that was enough to send him over the edge. His moan turned into a deep-chambered sigh of relief, as his first spurt of jizz filled up Rico’s guts.
That was Thumper’s cue to get back to humping his butthole, which he did, using powerful thrusts. The movement got Thumper’s muscles tensing up, and Rico’s too, as Rico clawed at the bed beneath him and tried to crawl away.
With a grunt, Thumper lay atop him, shifting his weight left and right in lieu of back and forth. Cum sprayed into Rico’s backside, great big creamy gobs of it that kept coming and coming. Rico shuddered, and the movement awakened a wave of pain.
“Shit… You a good nigga,” Thumper said into Rico’s ear, pulling his chest off Rico’s prettyboy back. He lifted up Rico too, so he could kiss Rico on the side of his cheek, square on the sexier of his two dimples. “Now go clean up.” Rico’s scream of pain was swallowed up by the mattress as Thumper withdrew his manhood, every inch of cum-marinated dickmeat sending another wave of sensations through both them. Rico’s till-now-intact asshole held onto Thumper’s dick and made his orgasm last until the tip popped out, and Thumper’s final jizz dribbled out into a puddle in the small of Rico’s back.
“Owwww, fuck, old nigga!” Rico cried out, then jumped up. All that creamy goo spilled out his gaping asshole and down his legs. “Shit!”
With a mummy-like chuckle, Thumper grabbed Rico’s underwear and wiped his dick off with it, while Rico frowned and cursed and moved around the apartment like he thought the old-nigga lifeguards was gonna come rescue him if he kicked up enough fuss.
“Go’n and take a shower,” Thumper said. He gotta say it a couple times cuz Rico was stuck on transmit.
“Shit, old nigga! C’mon! What the fuck?! Shit, old nigga! Quit playin’! Shit, old nigga, c’mon! What the fuck?!” He stalked in a lor circle stretching his frown out. “What the fuck?!”
“Go’n take a shower,” Thumper said again and again, in between Rico’s whatevering. Thumper gripped his cock and balls to get his attention. Thumper’s callused fingers was like a sandpaper purse, and Rico sucked up his breath and clenched his teeth again. Rico trembled when Thumper licked his face from his chin to his forehead. “Go’n take a shower, nigga. If you wanna shower alone, do it now, or I’mma shower wit’cha later. Wit’cha and inside ya.”
His frown turning to open-mouthed surprise, Rico went to the showers to scrub himself for what felt like forever.
Thumper waited for him. He fully intended to ram that boy again. That was why Thumper don’t shower now. He wanna let Rico get clean and give his ass a couple hours to recover. Then he gonna wake Rico in the night with a bootyfull of dickmeat. Then he’d let Rico shower again, and if his old-nigga dick could get hard once more, he’d shower with him and plow Rico for a third time when he dropped the soap. That’d be funny as hell.
It’d make Thumper’s dick hurt, but it’d be worth it. Thumper was too old to be busting nuts multiple times a night. It don’t stop him, of course. Thumper was too old to do alotta the things he do. A nigga is only as old as he feels.
Before Rico returned from his shower, there came a knock at the door. It was Carson. He stood there in the doorway with a long look in his eyes and a bag of fast food in one hand. Then Carson came in without Thumper telling him to. Thumper couldn’t complain much, as Carson and the Bloods was paying for this apartment, but he ain’t like it anyway. In prison a nigga’d get shanked for that.
He put the fast food down. “I got some chow for Rico. And you,” he said. “Burgers and hot cherry pies from the Ruby Pearl’s on Broad.”
“Hell yeah,” Thumper said. He opened the bag. “I’mma take both the cherry pies from that Rico nigga. I sent him off to shower anyway.” He put the cherry pies aside. “What’d you come here for, Carson? I know it ain’t just to drop off hamburguhs and cherry pies. This nigga connects dots easy, so if you want something from me, come right out and say it.”
Carson nodded. “I said someone gotta rob the Seventh Street niggas,” he said. “You heard that, right? In the meeting?”
Thumper nodded. He cross his arms over his chest.
“I was expectin’ you to volunteer for that.” Carson cleared his throat. “You done time for this organization, Thumper, and I know prison ain’t make you soft. I got mad respec’ for you. You know I do.”
Actually Thumper ain’t know that. Thumper only met Carson after his release. He gave him the apartment, but that was a rule. He got to. He ain’t gotto have respect for a nigga. Ain’t no way to force respect into a nigga. All the honky judges and parole officers in the world couldn’t shove respect into a nigga.
“But I need you to hit the Seventh Street niggas and hit ’em hard. They got a safehouse on Broad,” Carson said. “Go in on a Monday afternoon. I know they schedule, it’s when they got a minimum of niggas there. I’ll get you guns. You can take Rico.”
“He know his way around a gun?”
Carson nodded. Then he leaned in and said, “It would be fine if Rico ain’t come back from this. That would be… ideal. I’d love it if you returned but he didn’t.”
“What? Why?”
“You don’t need to know the details, just… He’s not gonna be parta this organization fo’ long,” Carson said. “So I’m organizin’ the easiest, cleanest exit for him.” He mimed shooting a gun at a imaginary nigga. “Pow, pow.” He chuckled. “You gonna ramrod his booty, right?”
Thumper wrinkled his nose. He ain’t wanna say he done do it. “Come by around midnight tonight and see,” Thumper said with a shrug. “Bring lube and a clothespin to shut yo’ nose with.”
That made Carson frown like Rico! It was contagious, it seemed. Carson got a plumpbody nigga body though, and he wasn’t handsome. He was ugly as a cumrag and dark as a used-up barbecue. Carson be darkskin, but he talk like he was lightskin, like nobody told him how dark he was. He wore glasses too, and they shifted up and down when he wrinkled his nose. “Nah, nah, I’ll let you handle that.”
He nodded at Carson, but they was interrupted then by Rico bursting his frowny face back into the apartment. Rico froze in surprise at seeing Carson. He looked down behind hisself like he was making sure there wasn’t a nigga dick sticking outta his booty. Then he widewalked in, his ass no doubt smarting, holding his towel around his waist.
“Rico, Thumper has the plan for you two,” Carson said. “Don’t disappoint me again.”
Rico nodded. Thumper clasped him on the back, lifted up his towel and held his naked body close as Carson left. He liked the moist heat coming off Rico’s smooth back.
But Carson’s words lingered in Thumper’s mind: don’t disappoint me again. That meant Rico done mess up. Rico was a fuck-up already. Thumper gonna hafta get the whole story outta that pretty nigga’s insides. That story must be why Carson wanted Rico gone.
“I don’t like how niggas come and go on the outside,” Thumper said with a sigh. He went to the window and watched Carson leave the building, scurrying through the cold city streets to his SUV. “Ain’t nothing permanent.” He sniffled. “We go’n to church on Sunday, Rico. Be ready.”
“You been locked up too long, you notiony nigga,” Rico said. He hurried to his duffel bag and found some clothes to put on, which he labored to do without taking off the towel around his waist. “You gone crazy.”
Them words made Thumper’s blood run cold. He recognized that snippet of dialogue.
That was in the script Delsinerr gave him. Them exact words.
Thumper’s next line felt natural as rain. “Shut up, nigga. If you got a girlfriend, bring her over.” That made the apartment quiet, cuz Thumper said it weird and Rico sensed that. Thumper ain’t say it like he meant it, though he did mean it, he said it like a actor reading his lines. “We can double-tap her.”
Rico sucked on his teeth. Thumper mouthed along with him, as Rico said his next line. “You know that bitch Cherry? The dancer? I bin seeing her on the side. She got tight booty. She won’t get double-teamed though, not even for coke. She don’t like it.”
Thumper knew his next line clear as a cloudless sky. He ain’t wanna say it. He wanted it to be said, but it ain’t feel right — he was sposedta tell Rico to drag that bitch here by her hair. A nigga shouldn’t let his female boss him around. If Rico want her to get double-teamed, she shoulda both bent over and spread her legs. She was a stripper, not a angel.
If he wanna accept Delsinerr’s gift, he knew how to do it.
Thumper Meets the Ultimate Evil
Chapter One: Out of Touch
Chapter Two: The Fossil
Chapter Three: That Ain’t Gangsta
Chapter Four: Old Nigga
Chapter Five: Unfashioned
Chapter Six: A Corrective Statement
Chapter Seven: Cool at Last
When ex-con Thumper White is given a joint to live in upon his release from prison, he had no idea he’d be shacking up with a doe-eyed prettyboy… That handsome homie Rico fancies himself a thug and a ladysman. Maybe he is both those things, but Thumper will take what he likes, and he likes Rico’s backside a whole heck of a lot!
Thumper’s a booty bandit old head who doesn’t take no for an answer, which means Rico’s in for the ride of a lifetime! Can Rico take Thumper’s brand of prison-starved love?
