The Cholo Bottoms

Anthony got it bad in prison, and he never thought his fortunes would be turned upside-down! That’s cuz the bad-ass cholo who hurt him is gonna hafta turn around and bend over, so that tiny twink Anthony gets to climb on top!

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When Anthony got out of the prison infirmary, he struggled to walk at all. The doctors had sewn up his cuts and got his bruising to go down, but he was still in intense pain with every step he took. That’s because he got cornholed, and it felt like his ass tore in half, like wet tissue paper, like he was being torn up all over again each time he stepped forward. The stairs were especially difficult to make it down.
Much to his surprise, the guards were kind. Officer Bignose in particular allowed him to walk back to his cell as slowly as he needed. Usually he pushed guys along, practically dragging anyone who didn’t hurry.
Anthony’s ramrod was named Franco, but he went by Sucio — a Spanish word that means “filthy or vulgar” and implies sexual perversion as well. He was tall, heavily tattooed from forehead to feet, broad-shouldered and meaty, strong as an ox. He had cornholed Anthony harder and harder until Anthony begged him to stop. He made Anthony lick the prison toilet seat; he stuck his assjuice-stained dick in Anthony’s mouth, and he pissed on his face. It was a tortuous experience.
Anthony certainly didn’t intend to wag his ass at any more cholos. He had thought he’d be able to get on Sucio’s good side by seducing him, but he didn’t know Sucio’s intense desire to remain uno hombre. His authoritarian manhood demanded he take charge of uno pasivo like Anthony.
But he was safe now. Anthony shared a cell with an elderly man, and he didn’t plan on leaving the cell any more than he had to. Sucio was sent to solitary confinement as punishment for the attack, so Anthony didn’t see him for a long time.
When he finally did return to the cell block on the same day Anthony did, Sucio made a kissy face as he walked by in chains, and the sight of that reawakened the lingering pain in Anthony’s ass. Shame flooded him, and he blushed as he looked down at his feet. Everybody knew Anthony was small and weak in comparison to Sucio, but he was still embarrassed for that to be made obvious. Officer Bignose led Sucio through the cell block. When they saw the kissy face, Bignose pulled on the manacle connected to Sucio’s legs, tripping him. He fell in a big bronze lump on the floor.
Sucio’s dingy white prison shorts and wifebeater were filthy with his sweat and raunch from his time cooped up in solitary. Anthony felt a surge of sexual desire, followed by shame. Anthony wished he could have serviced him in a consensual way. On the outside, he’d have said he wanted Sucio to ravage him. But it didn’t go how he had pictured it in his head. Anthony guessed that Sucio would never allow it — Sucio wouldn’t want to do it so Anthony enjoyed it. He was always going to do it harder than his victim wanted. His machismo demanded it.
“Come on out here,” Officer Bignose said, poking his head into the cell Anthony shared with the old man. Anthony had backed away from the door, not wanting Sucio to see him. Fear surged all over again as he wondered if Bignose’s kindness had only been a front for his true aim: retorturing Anthony by setting up another ramrodding. When Anthony didn’t respond right away, Bignose barked his order again, “Inmate Delunez, get the fuck out here right now!”
Anthony trembled but nodded and crept out of the cell. The cell block was having a Sunday afternoon indoors today, since it was raining outside. That meant dozens of men milled about, almost all of them vatos and cholos — Cell S99 was reserved for inmates associated with the Latin Kings. Anthony had only a glancing connection with them, which was why he had been turned out as Sucio’s bitch.
Bignose held a hand up, palm out, which made the cell block stop whispering. They all glared at Bignose. Anthony shivered with fear — was Bignose going to cornhole him now as well?
Outside of prison, Anthony hadn’t been a thug at all. He had only pledged himself to the Latin Kings because he was going in for a year and needed protection, and luckily his brother was a well-respected vato who could vouch for him. Of course, that hadn’t ended up mattering for very much.
“Listen up, you shitheaps. A lot of you are aware of what happened awhile ago. Inmate Delunez here was treated… poorly, to say the least-” Bignose was interrupted by a chorus of cheers and jeers from the assembled cholos, who yelled insults at Anthony. He blushed, especially when Sucio — standing nearby in chains — sneered at him. Someone pinched Anthony’s ass. Bignose whistled and demanded silence; everyone ignored him until he brought out the taser and brandished it. “Shut the fuck up! There’s a prison policy here we ain’t always followed. That’s because the victims are usually as bad as the perpetrators, but it’s a rule we got a right to enforce.”
“Fuck yo’ rules, esé!” Sucio said. He pumped his hips as though literally fucking Bignose’s rules. His dick-bulge shook in his prison shorts, and he rolled his tongue beneath his lips.
Bignose smiled at Sucio. He nodded to the other guards around him, and one of them jumped into action. Before Anthony could process the sudden turn of events, Sucio had a mouthguard placed on his face. Sucio roared and pulled away, but there were four guards on him, and they kept him in place, even forcing him to his knees. His complaints vanished into a wordless burst of syllables.
The mouthguard was a plain piece of plastic with wire forceps-like edges and a strap binding it to the face. It was made for prison dentists who couldn’t otherwise safely put their hands near the inmates’s mouths. Sucio tried to spit but with his jaw stuck pried apart, all he could do was sputter and writhe in the muscular guards’s arms.
“The rule that we’re going to enforce from now on,” Officer Bignose said with a cruel smile, “is that prison tops get bottomed.”
Total silence filled the room. Then there was a torrent of shouting, angry Spanish and vituperative English — a few of them were in support of the policy, it seemed, but many were against it, and some just wanted to watch the world burn. A few of the inmates rushed towards Bignose as though going to fight him, but Bignose flipped his taser on and they backed off when the sound of electricity crackling hit the air.
Silence once again fell over the cell block.
“Now, not all you alpha cholos are gonna get it up the ass. I ain’t got no interest in that,” Bignose said. “But if yer bitch complains, then I’m gonna let him treat you the same way you got treated. That’s how we gonna decide what’s consensual or not. If your bitch is upset enough to file a complaint, he’s gonna get to climb on top of yer stupid ass. Inmate Delunez here is gonna be first.” He smiled at Anthony, and extended his arm like a fancy butler unveiling an expensive dish.
It all happened so fast that Anthony only realized what was happening right now, as he stepped towards Sucio. The inmates mostly quieted down. None of them really loved Sucio, after all. Bignose had no doubt started off with what seemed like terrible news in order to be sure they’d be supportive and happy when he backed up into a less atrocious rule.
Anthony blushed as he took his dick out. He had been showering with these men, and occasionally jerking them off, for more than a month before Sucio attacked him, so this wasn’t the first time they had seen his dick. But he was still self-conscious knowing that they were looking at him now, and no doubt comparing his dick to theirs — when he was just another prison punk, they avoided looking at his manhood; his ass and his mouth were his only body parts that mattered.
But now his rather thick dick was the center of attention. Anthony had never felt smaller, despite the grande size of his meat. Sucio roared as he tried to pull away, but the guards kept him on his knees. His chest and shoulders were soaked with sweat, which made his wifebeater stick to his flesh. His muscles strained the fabric.
¡Destrozar el culo! ¡Que sea sangrienta!
Anthony chuckled as he flopped his limp dick onto Sucio’s face, his heart racing — this felt so dangerous, even if it wasn’t. Sucio’s face was heavily tattooed, seven tears dripping from his eyes (which meant he had murdered seven people, and the fact that one of the tears was colored red meant that one of those seven was either a cop or a snitch).
¡Su garganta es su culo!
Sucio flinched and writhed. He breathed heavily, drool dripping past his lips. It was obvious he was trying to say something but couldn’t with his mouth pried open. All he could do was champ up moutfuls of saliva.
“You ever tasted cock before, bitch?” Anthony asked, simply because the silence made this all more intense, and he felt a need to do something to break the tension. The pain in his ass was gone now, and he smiled as the cholos filling the cell block burst into laughter and applause. Sucio was a powerful gangbanger, and though they were all nominally allied with him, no one liked him — now that he was a bitch, they’d treat him like one, which meant everyone here could move up a rung in the Latin Kings hierarchy.
Fuck ‘is throat, Anthony. Make him choke! ¡Hacer que se ahogue!
Anthony pushed his dick into Sucio’s big, wide mouth. His moist tongue shook as though trying to find a place to hide, but Anthony just pushed his dick all the way in to the root in one smooth motion — Sucio was big enough to swallow a lot of meat. Sucio retched and gagged, a big ball of spit dripping down his chin and onto his wifebeater.
“Keep your eyes open, puta!” Anthony said. He pounded on his thin twinky chest. This was exactly how Sucio had treated him, so he enjoyed returning the favor. “Bitches should look in they owners’ eyes. I wanna see yo’ stupid bitch face suffocating on my cock, esé.”
He rammed his dick in all the way, even lifting one leg to hump his face like a dog. The mouthguard on Sucio’s face pinched at his jaw whenever he tried to open it, so his mouth was open as wide as it would go — every time he stretched it a little wider, the mouthguard didn’t allow it to go back without pinching into his gums.
Anthony rubbed the Gothic lettering tattooed on Sucio’s forehead — Latin Kings por vida, it read. He spat right onto that tattoo, and when he saw that Sucio shook and gagged, he did it again. He spat on Sucio’s nose and hocked up a big loogie, which he plopped into Sucio’s mouth.
This felt so good that Anthony would have gladly kept going until he came. But he felt his orgasm coming and he knew Officer Bignose wouldn’t hold Sucio down again, at least not unless Sucio cornholed him again. So Anthony decided to go after him in the ass while he could.
After all, he wasn’t gonna get more chances to ramrod a muscle-bound alpha like Sucio.
There were now five guards holding Sucio down. One was on each limb (which were also manacled), and one kept him in a bear hug from behind. That one behind Sucio winced like he was disgusted when Anthony pulled out of Sucio’s mouth — he was awfully close to the action, getting splashed. Anthony blushed, still unused to being the center of attention.
The guard with Sucio in a bear hug leaned onto his back, forcing Sucio onto his back as well, his big body resting on the guard’s chest. He squirmed but with his chained arms and legs held by the other quartet of guards, there was little Sucio could do.
Officer Bignose pulled on the chains of Sucio’s legs and attached them to the wall nearby. That forced Sucio’s legs up. Anthony pulled those dingy prison-issued boxers up, revealing a thick and meaty ass coated in kinky black hairs and amateur tattoos. His cheeks quivered and tensed — he was clenching his ass.
Not that that was gonna stop Anthony.
When Anthony saw that cock again, he knew he was going to stroke Sucio off — both because he genuinely wanted to, and because he knew he could get Sucio hard in front of the entire cell block. Nothing would be more humiliating than treating Sucio like a bitch and making him like it, in front of every cholo in this joint.
There was a Salvadoran flag tattooed right on Sucio’s dick, its blue and white stripes waving in unseen wind. Anthony gave it a stroke while just resting his dick at the entrance to Sucio’s ass.
“You want this real bad, donchu?” Anthony asked, then repeated it loud enough that he could be heard over the hoots and hollers of the other inmates.
¡Si, él realmente quiere!
Sucio’s body roiled and writhed. He struggled against the guards holding him down, but there was nothing he could do, especially on his back with his legs in the air — he was like a turtle stuck on its back.
“You ever took it in the ass before?” Anthony asked. Sucio shook his head and heaved out some indecipherable syllables, but Anthony couldn’t understand him. He cupped one hand behind his ear as though asking Sucio to speak up. The inmates behind him all roared their approval of Sucio’s humiliation. Anthony smiled and said, in an overly loud voice, “Oh, you loved getting rammed by sumisos?! Well, I got exactly what you want! Don’t worry, I’ll ram you again whenever you want. You just let me know.”
He rammed one finger in Sucio’s ass, keeping his dick right there so Sucio could feel it. His other hand remained on Sucio’s cockshaft, lightly stroking it — it was just a bit hard right now, no doubt more from anxiety than actual arousal.
Sucio arched his back and clenched his ass when Anthony’s pinkie entered him. Anthony laughed and smacked him on the asscheek, over and over until Sucio let go of his clenching for just a second, long enough that Anthony could ram his pinkie all the way in.
The sweat drenched Sucio’s body now, soaking those guards who held him down. They looked like they regretted agreeing to this — they probably enjoyed the idea of holding a giant cholo like Sucio down while he got cornholed — Sucio had been insulting and threatening them for years, after all — but now realized that the actuality of it was more difficult and less satisfying than they had predicted beforehand. His sweaty muscles and coarse black hairs rubbed all over their bodies, especially the burly redneck guard who held onto Sucio’s bare back.
“Gonna get that ass to open up one way or another…” Anthony shouted over the din — that was another thing Sucio had said over and over while cornholing Anthony hard. Anthony did it the same way Sucio had, by strangling him.
His thin, delicate fingers gripped Sucio by the neck and squeezed, just hard enough to make him heave and writhe. It was a sudden enough surprise that his ass unclenched when Anthony let go a moment later, and Anthony rammed his ring finger in alongside his pinkie. Sucio breathlessly gasped, his tongue writhing in his mouth as he tried to shout.
Anthony had been so focused on watching Sucio’s agony that he hadn’t really taken a moment to savor the fingering. With two fingers now in Sucio’s virgin ass, he wiggled them. He loved that tight moistness and he especially enjoyed how Sucio’s dick pulsated in his hands now that Anthony was on his prostate.
“Muy apretado…” Anthony said with a slow smile. The other inmates rushed forward to either join in or clap Anthony on the back, but Officer Bignose waved them away.
He rammed his fingers in and out, each thrust making Sucio contort. His muscles were pulling the guards this way and that as they held him down — they couldn’t quite keep him from moving, but they could keep him from getting up. His chains rattled loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd of inmates.
Then Anthony pulled out. He pushed his dick in before Sucio’s ass had time to clench again, but Anthony didn’t want to go too fast. He just put the tip of his dick in and held on as Sucio flexed all over. Motionless, Anthony bit back his burgeoning climax, so he could drag this out.
Pain rattled up and down Sucio’s body; Anthony could see it in the undulating tension in his muscles, which tightened and loosened in waves from his trunk-like thighs to his broad muscles. Those muscles clenched his ass as though to grip Anthony’s cock.
“Taste some ass, puta!” Anthony shouted, too aroused to think of anything wittier to say. He wished he could — Sucio had thought of lots of (relatively) clever insults and threats to shout as he had fucked Anthony, but Anthony couldn’t think of a single one right now. He just laughed as he pushed his ass-slickened fingers into Sucio’s mouth.
Sucio sputtered and gagged as soon as he tasted his own ass. He spat the best he could with an open mouth, but Anthony just wiped his fingers off on Sucio’s tongue, groaning as he slid a few more inches of his manhood into Sucio’s behind.
“You feel it in you, bitch?” Anthony asked. “Huh? You feel my dick in you?”
Sucio shook his head, throwing his neck back and forth. He wasn’t really saying no, probably didn’t even hear Anthony’s question, but Anthony decided to take it as a no.
“Oh, okay, I’ll ram you harder then, so you can feel it!” Anthony said. He smiled as the cholos behind him screamed their approval.
Make ‘im bleed, Anthony! Wreck his ass!
Anthony pistoned his hips, slamming his dick the rest of the way in. He pushed his cock all the way to the root, which made Sucio arch his back. He gasped and choked on the fingers Anthony still kept in his mouth.
Then Anthony remained still for a moment, working on Sucio’s dick. It was rock-hard, but he gathered that Sucio wasn’t even aware; he was in too much pain to notice his erection. Anthony used both hands on the meaty, uncut shaft, then cupped his low-hanging balls. He gathered up all the sweat from Sucio’s own crotch and then wiped it over Sucio’s tongue, which stuck out of his mouth like a panting dog.
He wanted to really humiliate Sucio by making him cum with a dick all the way up his guts. So he stimulated Sucio’s prostate while stroking off his manhood.
The tension was so great that it was actually quite easy — Sucio was too distracted to fight against it, so his body’s instinctual arousal was enough to send him right over the line. His orgasm was painful, bringing tears to his eyes as his asshole clenched around Anthony’s rampaging dick.
Cum sprayed over Sucio’s chest and belly. He blushed a bright red as the other inmates, his fellow gangmates, all roared their shocked approval. Some of the cum missed Sucio’s body and landed on the face of the guard holding onto his right arm, who flinched but didn’t pull away even as the semen dripped down his lips.
Anthony pumped his biceps over Sucio’s body. He knew he looked ridiculous, since he was acting like he had overpowered Sucio when he was actually about a third Sucio’s size. But it felt good to be victorious — Anthony hadn’t felt like a real man since even before Sucio plowed him.
Gathering that the guards were losing patience and weren’t going to hold Sucio down for much longer, Anthony decided to finish up. He had been on the verge of orgasm pretty much since this began, so he focused his energy on going hard. His hands sopped up all that cum and wiped it off on Sucio’s tongue, making Sucio retch, writhe and clench down on Anthony’s dick.
The pain must have been excruciating; Anthony knew well that getting plowed with a clenched asshole was excruciating, and Anthony wasn’t even using lube besides Sucio’s own spit, so it was no doubt tortuous. He rammed his dick back and forth, cackling with laughter as Sucio heaved for breath, gagging on his own cum which he couldn’t wipe away. Anthony made sure that what semen that did leak out his mouth got smeared all over his tattooed face.
When his orgasm finally hit, Anthony pulled out — a part of him wanted to cum inside Sucio’s guts, which would have been humiliating for him, turning his culo into a panocha. But it would have been invisible to all the men watching.
So he pulled out instead. Sucio breathed a deep sigh until he saw that Anthony aimed for his face. He gagged again even before Anthony had made it to his head, a potent orgasm rocketing through Anthony’s body. His dick was more slimy than he had ever seen it — Sucio’s ass had really reacted to the hardcore fucking, excreting copious fluids that clung to his cockshaft.
He managed to get his dick in Sucio’s mouth just moments before he came. Sucio wretched and writhed, and spat up a big ball of bile that just leaked out over his face. Anthony groaned as the orgasm finally hit him. His little lithe body writhed, ass clenching and fingers gripping Sucio’s face tightly.
Anthony had never seen someone retch so badly. He shot a huge load right into Sucio’s gullet, but Sucio just spat it right back up. Cum dripped from his lips and coated his face, alongside that slimy assjuice that Anthony brought back from Sucio’s hole. His face was shiny with fluids, eyes scrunched up and flashing bright.
A long, loud sigh escaped from Anthony’s lips as he finally fell limp. His knees buckled, the orgasm so intense he could barely support himself. He used Sucio’s meaty belly for support, and he tweaked Sucio’s nipples.
Finally the guards — disgusted by all the fluids that had leaked to every inch of Sucio’s body — slipped away. Sucio dropped to the ground and landed with a thud. He writhed and rolled over, groaning as he tried to get to his feet. He winced in pain every time he moved, just like Anthony had when he had been led away from the infirmary.
Officer Bignose grabbed the chain attached to Sucio’s neck and pulled until Sucio could do nothing more than pull against the chain, n his knees. Bignose pulled the mouthguard off and Sucio screamed a litany of Spanish insults. He couldn’t reach his face to wipe off.
“Shut your mouth, or we’re all gonna ram you!” Bignose said. Sucio couldn’t breathe with his chain pulled taut, so he soon had no choice but to fall silent. Bignose cleared his throat. “I’m gonna take you back to solitary to chill out for awhile. You’re a bitch now. You’ll have to accept that.” The other inmates roared their approval, but Bignose waved them quiet with one hand. “Now thank Inmate Delunez.” Sucio pulled against the chain again as he growled, but Bignose snapped it tight. Sucio sputtered, spit dripping past his lips. Bignose smiled. “Thank him.” When Sucio didn’t respond right away, Bignose whispered something in his ear.
Sucio blanched. “Thank you… Anthony,” he said through gritted teeth. “I… am alegre you done ram me.”
“Why, you’re welcome, Sucio, de nada. Anytime, I’d be alegre to ram you again.” Anthony held his hand up.
Sucio narrowed his eyes but kissed Anthony’s hand like a suitor wooing his girl. Anthony giggled at the sight of his big cholo body being dragged away. The other inmates clapped Anthony on the back, congratulating him and Anthony’s red face smiled.
The pain in his ass had diminished entirely, and Anthony was beginning to think his prison stay might not be as bad as it had initially seemed. He wondered if he could afford to buy a bitch, and if so, he knew exactly which one it would be. Anthony strode back to his cell like a returning champion.

Chuy Delunez

Chuy is a cholo and an ex-con.

Description

Chuy’s hands slid down her back to her ass. He done grew meatier in prison, and he felt denser to her touch, like he had crammed more body into the same amount of space. But he wasn’t a muchacho anymore, and his skin was no longer taut as a drum, his tattoos was faded and distorted, he be sporting wrinkles on his neck and bags under his eyes, and his juvenile aroma done deepen into a zesty musk that reminded her of the cantina her father drank in.

From Chuy the Ex-Con

Books

Chuy the Ex-Con: Chuy’s out of prison, and he’s in for a wild ride! When his girlfriend dumps him, he’s still got a raging hardon and a need for a place to sleep. But first, he’s off to sling coke for the Latin Kings directamente — a cholo like Chuy has got chores to do, beggars to beat down, ladies to seduce and casas to break into! So can he find a hot throbbing hole to satisfy his needs?

Cholos and the Raunchy Hobos of Santa Monica: Anthony enjoys alpha male thugs, cholos and machos of all kinds, and luckily, he has a knack for getting them! His older brother is a high-ranking gangbanger, giving Anthony a way to sample the men he adores. Can he learn to get his rocks off on his own?

Pictures

Buck the Dumbass: Chapter 2

Buck the Dumbass

Chapter One: Ann Arbor, 1999

Chapter Two: Peremptory Manhood

Chapter Three: Statistics 101

Chapter Four: Systems of Oppression

Chapter Five: Lung Stuff

Bouncering was dull work. Buck ain’t mind it — the pay was good, and the waitresses was purdy as petunias. But damn do it bore him to his soul. He stood there at the door checking idees. Ain’t even gotta look at ’em. Buck held a scanner that said if’n t’was valid, and it do pop up with a high-res photo-pitcher of the feller so’s Buck could check if’n t’was him.
Now and then he gots to punch a man’s lights out. T’was a perk worth remembering, cuz he enjoyed fisticuffs.
But Buck got another job too. His parole officer made him get “gainful employment”. Whatever “gainful” meant, bouncering wasn’t it. Buck axed what “gainful” was, and his parole officer just called him a stone-cold retard. Ain’t ne’er answer.

His gainful job was working as a exterminator. Buck been doing that off and on since the late 80s, working fer Mistah Taggart at Central Pest Control when he weren’t in prison or working on a oil rig. Mistah Taggart learned Buck about all them beetles, cockroaches, ants, earwigs, all them. And rats.


“Slow ya roll, Sampson, nuh-uh,” Crabgut said. “Rat traps is a weapon, can’t give you that. You think I’m a retard like you?”So’s when Buck was in prison and they gots a rat problem, Buck done come up to that guard Officer Crabgut and said he could lay out traps to get ridda them. Crabgut was a jowly, moist-shirt sumbitch, and he looked at Buck like a beetle-meat nugget.
Buck scowled. “But you hirin’ a ext’minatuh to lay out them same traps, he j’st ain’t doin’ it right.” He pointed to a trap. “If’n I wanna use one as a weapon, they’s the’uh. I could grab it. They ain’t sharp though. Ain’t no rat gonna get — he put it right out in the open, suh. T’ain’t-“
“Shut the fuck up, Sampson,” Officer Crabgut said. “Officer Hargrave is the facilities manager, he’s in charge of hirin’ an exterminatuh. A professional put them traps out.”
“I’s a professional too! He put ’em out bad! And he usin’ too much peanut buttuh. And he should use smooth, not crunchy-“
“Rats don’t care, Sampson, you’re crazy. Rats don’t got a peanut butter preference. You just playin’, you tryin’ a-get time outta ya cell,” Crabgut said. “You getting coop-up syndrome. Seen it before.”
“Nah, nah, nah, listen, listen — is he puttin’ traps in the ceiling? Tell him to put traps in the ceiling-“
“Rats don’t live in the ceiling, they don’t live up!” Officer Crabgut pointed to the ceiling, then down to the floor. “They live down. In like sewers and shit.”
Buck narrowed his eyes. “T’ain’t corre’t, suh-“
“Sampson! Quit backtalkin’,” Crabgut said. He brusquely shoved Buck back. “Git! You frustrated, Sampson?”
“Yeah! I got rats in mah cell. Gonna get that… uh… lepto… sis…” Buck was positive he was gonna remember that word right up until his tongue tripped o’er itself. “Leprosis. Or, uh… lepposposis, or…”

“Sampson… You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Crabgut said. He again shoved Buck back towards the cells. Buck was tall enough that Crabgut pushed on his side, below his ribcage, steada his shoulder, cuz Buck towered o’er him. “Miguel is ya cellmate, right?”


Buck nodded as he walked back to his cell, Crabgut close behind. Buck’s feet was bare, flapping upon the cold steel floor of the state prison, which ain’t provide shoes big enough fer Buck’s feet. Usually he wore socks, but they was all dirty now, so’s his feetses was bare.
“He a punk, right? Cornhole ‘im. That’ll calm you down,” Crabgut said. He handed o’er two packets of ramen. “Here, I’ll pay fer it. Just don’t get ornery, Sampson. I don’t want trouble. I’s startin’ a three-day weekend tonight, and I don’t wanna deal wit’ ya’ dumb ass.”
“I won’t — I ain’t ornery!” Buck said with a sigh.
Officer Crabgut reached Buck’s cell, then firmly but not violently shoved him into it. “Relax, Sampson. Hargrave will take care of the rats.” He closed the cell door and walked away. Right now was open-cell time, so’s the door wasn’t locked, but Crabgut’d prolly curl his lip at Buck opening it, so’s Buck stood by the door dopeishly.
Laying there on the lower bunk was his cellmate, Miguel, who got a magazine in his hand and a curious look upon his mug. Buck held them ramen packets in one hand.
Buck lit a cigarette from the battered pack by his upper bunk and fumed. “I tol’ him that ext’minatuh don’t know what he’s doin’,” Buck said. “He looked young. He prolly foolish. Mosta ’em don’t wanna come to a prison, so’n they sent the newest rookie, reckon.” Buck took a long drag off his smoke.

Miguel shrugged. “Prison got rats, gringazo,” he said. Then he added a inscrutable hand gesture and sound effect that presumably signified the inevitableness of entropy, the creeping spread of chaos in a post-capitalist society and his stoic acceptance of dhukha, the imperfection and dissatisfaction inherent to existence in Buddhist theology. “Hszhurhppaa.”


Cigarette smoke fuming outta his ugly mug, Buck wrinkled his nose. “I cain smell the rats, Miguel, I smells ’em. Tha’ss rat piss. It’s di’rent than mouse piss.”
“Ay, don’t talk about rat piss, gringazo,” Miguel said, lifting his soccer magazine to cover his face. He was a Latin King, which you could tell by his tats. He done earnt his place among ’em by renting hisself out. Mexicans do that to each other, they do.
So far as Buck was concerned, the most important reason to join up with a gang was to avoid giving up booty. Mexican don’t see it that way. They got l’il peckers, that was why. They was short and fat and got li’l pinkies poking out they oversized bushes. T’weren’t barely a thang to get cornholed by one them.
Miguel was skinny, not fat, but he was short as a donkey was stubborn, and he got a wormy thang. He ain’t like taking it from Buck’s big-boy meat.
Casual as he could muster, Buck tacked up the sheet that covered they cell door and the window in the door. That gave a li’l privacy. When Buck was confident ain’t nobody gonna interrupt, he tossed the two packs of ramen to Miguel.
His bristly mustache jostled as Miguel shrugged, then put the ramen with t’others. Ramen was, ‘long with cigarettes, canned sardines and phone cards, the main currency in this prison. Guards usually toted ramen with ’em cuz they was cheap as hell outside and could be brung in no problem — no restrictions on guards carrying ramen.
Then Miguel got up. He was plum near two feet shorter’an Buck, so’s he dwarfed under him as he smeared a big fistful of prison-kitchen hogfat upon his asscrack. Meanwhile, Buck stroked hisself hard. He fished out a September 1992 issue of a “pickemup truck magazine”, which was fulla purdy ladies near trucks. T’was as risqué as could be easily gotten in prison.
“Go quick, esé. And silencioso,” Miguel said, wiry muscles stretching to get his hand into his buttcrack. He winced as one finger slipped into his hole, then a second. He bit his lower lip. “Shushy, gringazo.”
Buck nodded. “Make guhl sounds, Miguel, I’s picturin’ ya mamacita on mah dick,” he said with a laugh. Miguel sucked upon his teeth. Buck showed him the Latina in the magazine, who was purdy indeed. “She Mexican, and she hot-” He kept one giant hand on his cock, which firmed up in his grip.
“It say right there she Puerto Rican, gringazo,” Miguel said. He winced again as he got a third finger in his own ass, which he forced hisself to endure, as t’would feel better’an letting Buck ramrod him unprepared. His limbs strained and twitched, his tattoos rippling.
“Oh,” Buck’s chuckles turned sheepish. He ain’t see that bit, and Miguel done made his feelings on Puerto Ricans clear as sprite — Miguel soured on Puerto Ricans like tamarind soda. But Buck weren’t interested in the mamacita’s origins, and he got no notions on the nationalities of Hispanics. He liked her ass. He was eye-deep in that magazine when Miguel bent o’er.
T’weren’t a invitation fer Buck to get started. Miguel wanna put his makeshift dildo in his ass, that would loosen him up. Miguel bent o’er to get that dildo from his poke at the foot of his bunk.
But Buck was eyefucking the Puerto Rican lady — who drove a Hyundai! — and he took Miguel bending o’er to mean he was ready. One hand upon the magazine, t’other upon his dick, Buck bent his knees and jabbed his dick like a battery ram.
He missed the butthole entirely.
“Ay ay, wait,” Miguel said. He squirmed, his lubey hands pushing behind hisself upon Buck’s stallion-like body. “Wait!” Buck’s cock stabbed his asscheek hard, like Buck was trying-a poke a new butthole in it.
“Sawry, sawry, I’mma wait, whatchoo wanna do?” Buck said. He was so much taller’an Miguel that t’was hard to get his wang and Miguel’s caboose to line up. He kept thrusting though, having no idear he was ramming Miguel’s back and side hard enough to hurt.
“Ay, ay, wait, lemme get it open, gringazo,” Miguel said. “Ay ay ay.” He found the dildo and smeared hog fat on it. “Don’t press down this time, Buck. You are too big, too grande.” He whistled. Then one hand gingerly inserted the “dildo” — actually a piece of ceramic that broke off a toilet — and t’other flicked Buck’s thirteen-inch rod. T’was thicker’an Miguel’s forearm. He pointed to Buck’s chest. “Don’t press down on my back. You are heavy, and you are hairy, and you smell like a saddle.”
Buck looked at Miguel ’round the magazine. “Maxi said punks gotta-“
“I ain’t a punk!” Miguel said. He done explain this b’fore — Miguel was a Latin King. He hadta pay fer his membership by giving up the booty, but that was a valid membership. A “punk” was not a member of the gang; a punk was owned by the gang. Punks also gave up the booty, so’s the difference seemed negligent to Buck. T’was vital to Miguel.
T’was Buck’s turn to snort like a jaded pony and make a masturbatory hand gesture, which combined to signify his belief in the mutability of socially constructed roles qua the fulfillment of incumbent sociocultural systems and functions, strength and dominance as determiners per se of masculine hierarchies and the civilizational sine qua non of a peremptory conception of so-called manhood to staunch the onslaught of Leviathan.
But he ain’t argue. Once he got his pecker up Miguel’s guts, Buck’d be dictating the position fer sho’re.
“C’mon, I’s hard,” Buck said. He put the magazine down upon Miguel’s bed, hugged his hairy shoulders from behind and pulled him close. Miguel straightened his back.
“Wait, esé, I-” Miguel yelped. Buck’s meaty stomach pressed ‘gainst his head. Miguel squirmed. “It’s still-“
Buck dropped to his knees, which lined his cock up with Miguel’s ass, and he rammed his knob right at Miguel’s butthole, which was stretched wide.
T’was stretched cuz that piece of ceramic dildo was still in there. Buck forgot about that, and his knob jammed into it. Him and Miguel said ow and ay respectively.
“I’ll get it out,” Buck said, slapping Miguel’s hand away. “I’mma lose mah stiffy if’n I don’t stick it in ya soon. Ya asshole is narsty, Miguel.” His crack was lined with black hairs — the cheeks was mostly smooth, but his crack was so hairy Buck ain’t wanna look at it. Buck gingerly used two fingertips to pull the ceramic dildo out, his other hand spreading them asscheeks.
“Put lard on it!” Miguel said. He gave Buck the tub of hog fat, but Buck ain’t take it, as Buck got one hand upon his own cock and t’other spreading Miguel’s buttcheeks the best Buck could without touching any the butthair. “Lard!”
“I will, I will,” Buck said. With a quick thrust, he aimed it fer Miguel’s lubed-up hole, but the tip bounced off. He picked up the tub of hog fat. He tried again, and this time the tip went in. “Got in, keep it open, keep it-“
“Ay! Lard! Put on the lard, esé!” Miguel snapped. His asshole snapped too, and it pushed Buck’s cock right out. Buck still ain’t even open the tub of hog fat.
“I am, I am!” Buck said. His voice was so deep it echoed in the tiny cell, and Miguel hissed fer him to shush. Buck smeared hog fat upon his cock, which was losing its erection. “Sheeit, Miguel, put’cha mouth on it. Get it hard again.”
Miguel smacked his lips shut. “Nuh-uh.” He mumbled. “T’was in my culo, gringazo.”
“Just the tip was, fer like a second!” Buck said. “I swan-!”
“Shush! Keep it down!”
“Why? E’erybody knows you give it up behind,” Buck said.
“They don’t gotta know when!” Miguel said. “Get ya own self hard, Buck.”
Buck grumbled, but he picked up the magazine and stroked his dick again. T’was easier this time since he was lubed up, and his greasy hand slid up and down the shaft. Meanwhile Miguel be working at his own butthole with his fingers. He got four fingers in there.
In a flurry, Buck pulled Miguel’s fingers outta his own ass, then rammed his dick in as far as t’would go — he wanna go fast both so’s Miguel don’t come up with more delays and so’s his asshole don’t snap shut. Miguel wheezed and squirmed, and maybe four, five inches of dickmeat disappeared up there.
“Aaaah, sheeit, here we go-“
“Damn, gringazo, gimme a warnin’,” Miguel said.
“Sawry, sawry,” Buck said. Miguel stood, while Buck kneeled behind him, so’s Buck’s strong arms held him upright when Miguel’s knees got weak. He spread his legs the best he could. Miguel clenched his teeth and his ropy limbs all tensed up. “You’s tensin’ up, Miguel, relax, relax, relax-“
“Ay, ay-“
“You clenchin’, wait, wait-” Buck hugged him close, despite the bristly body hair all o’er Miguel’s chest. It turned Buck off. He couldn’t imagine tits if’n his hands was where’n tits should be and there weren’t no tits, and he used both hands to hold squirmy Miguel, so’s he couldn’t hold the magazine open. Miguel’s asshole was clenching and pushing Buck’s cock out, which Buck accepted was not deliberate — they done go thru this argument — but he got a right to force Miguel to slacken his booty. “You clenchin’, Miguel-“
“Sshhhiiiizzhzhhh!” Miguel roared. He lurched forward, banging his head ‘gainst the wall. Buck tried to support him, but Miguel couldn’t help but wriggle. His tattooed hands clawed behind hisself at Buck’s chest.
“Goddamn that feels good…” Buck murmured. Miguel done took mosta Buck’s shaft, and he was heaving on a rhythm like a woman in labor. Buck tried to keep Miguel in place as pleasure wracked his body, but Buck admired to use one hand to get that magazine back where’n he could see it.
Soon as he leggo Miguel though, Miguel squirmed hard again — that made his ass squeeze and massage Buck’s cock, which was leaking gobs of precum now. That helped further grease up Miguel’s broke-in booty.
Buck worked his dick back and forth, as Miguel’s panting slowed down. Each time he thrust, he tried to force it a l’il deeper, but he ain’t try to ram him too hard, cuz Miguel was a amigo fer real.
Finally Miguel seethed and said weakly, “Ay, wait, gimme a sec, Buck…”
“Nah, I’mma nut real quick, promise,” Buck said. He admired to look at the magazine, but e’ery time he got it in position, Miguel wriggled, and Buck gotta use both hands to steady him. He found hisself looking at Miguel’s back, which got a tattoo of a sexy grim reaper-lady, who filled Buck with contrary feelings. He preferred the magazine.
A rat moved, and Buck jerked away from Miguel. His lard-goop dick popped outta Miguel’s ass.
The rat paused like t’ain’t mean to show itself. Buck stepped to it and stomped with one bare foot, only fer the rat to dart away.
It went to the cell door, and Buck followed, his hardon dripping precum onto the cement floor. Buck hesitated cuz he ain’t wanna stomp a rat with his bare feet. He picked up one Miguel’s prison sandals.
“Ay, shit, la rata!” Miguel jumped up onto his bunk, then winced and cradled his sore asscheeks.
The rat squealed and wriggled ’round the shut cell door, which weren’t latched shut. When it creaked open enough, the rat squirmed out the cell and into the prison proper. Buck chased after it, his erect dick still dribbling onto the cold steel floor. He stopped when he realized he was naked with a hardon afronta the whole cell block.
“Eww, Buck’s bootysmashin’!” Buncha fellers started laughing. They pointed, and ain’t nobody even notice the rat, which disappeared into the walls somewhere.
“Bootysmasher!”
“Hillbillies do that, they do…”
“Ewww, his cellmate’s Miguel, right?”
Buck blushed and covered his crotch with both hands, his fat cock spilling out the sides of his grip. He hurried back to the cell
“Nah, nah, I’s gettin’ ready — I’s changin’ my clothes!” Buck called out, but ain’t nobody believe him. They done seed his dick in the shower, and don’t nobody believe a big-dick man like Buck was going thru his prison sentence without smashing booties. And e’erybody knewed Miguel do give up the booty if’n he get paid.
“You cabronazo!” Miguel hissed. “Everybody saw that-“
“I was goin’ aftuh the rat!”
Miguel still stood upon the edge of his bunk, gripping the upper bunk (Buck’s) to keep his bare feet off the cell floor. He sucked on his teeth. “Is that how you exterminate rats, Buck? You chase ’em each one?”
But Buck just grumbled, as some homeboys knocked upon the cell door and shared hushed laughs. They wasn’t allowed to open the door — T’was unlocked, but opening a cell door without permission was a stabbable offense. They kept banging on it and saying sump’in incomprehensive, maybe pretending they was guards ordering Buck to open the door. They peeked ’round the sheet curtain too.
That all only took less than a minute, and Buck’s hardon was still throbbing. He admired to defend his name, but even as he did, he lined his crotch up with Miguel’s ass — easy to do while Miguel stood upon his bunk. That lifted his hairy asscrack up enough fer Buck to get behind him and ram it right in.
“Shuddup out the’uh!” Buck called out. “I was changin’ mah clothes!”
A twitch came o’er Miguel as Buck’s cock entered his ass once more, and Miguel tensed up again. He clenched his teeth. “Shit, go slow, cabronazo.”
Buck nodded. He lowered his holler-heavy voice. “Spread ya legs, Miguel, c’mon…”
Miguel did so, wincing when Buck’s dick pushed in inch after inch. He shook like a hound-dog shitting a peach pit. His legs spread wide, and he gripped Buck’s bunk, the upper one, fer support.
“Ay ay ay…” Miguel muttered, as pain enveloped him again. Buck’s powerful arms wrapped ’round him so’s he couldn’t squirm too bad. Miguel panted, while Buck’s chest muscles writhed with the intense spasms of pleasure running thru his body.
The sound of the homeboys banging upon the cell door faded. Buck pounded now, relentless, and soon Miguel wasn’t really supporting hisself ‘t all — Buck hugged him and lifted him off the bunk, so’n Miguel was swallowed up by Buck’s barrel chest. Then Miguel could squirm all he wanted, he got no leverage, and Buck could use his ass more like a fleshlight than a pussy.
That hurt, but it sent Buck right o’er the edge.
A thick wave of nut filled Miguel’s ass. Buck let out a long, chamberous moan, and he felt his tensions draining away like melted butter. Crabgut was right, he did needta blow a nut.
“Ay…”
Grimacing his teeth, Miguel scrunched his eyes shut. The pressure in his ass was so intense it felt like he was being split in two, like Buck done broke sump’in in his backside. But Miguel knewed it always felt like this — Buck got big meat. Wave after wave of creamy cum flowed into Miguel, a bigger load than he thought possible. Mexicans ain’t shoot that much he thought, or maybe they was just more apt to pull out and shoot on his back, while Buck preferred to get e’ery drop all the way up in Miguel’s guts.
Buck at last pulled out and sighed, and he put Miguel down. He blanched at sight of buncha black fellers outside the cell, peering in ’round the edge of the sheet curtain blocking the window on the door. They was laughing at Buck wiping his dingdong clean. Buck moved the sheet they got set up so’s it blocked the window again — he ne’er done fix it correct-like after coming back in here. Buck felt like an idiot. Them homeboys was gonna be calling him a booty bandit fer months.
As though they ain’t done it too. Homeboys was all booty bandits, in Buck’s experience. They all either be ramrodding or getting it up the dookie by a bigger one. But they think it’s funny when a whiteboy do it.
“Goddamn that hurt, esé,” Miguel said, caressing his sore ass. A wave of cum poured down his inner thighs as he got off his bunk and stretched his legs. “And you’s estúpido fer goin’ out there. Everybody saw it! Fuckin’ dumbass cabron.”

Buck the Dumbass

Chapter One: Ann Arbor, 1999

Chapter Two: Peremptory Manhood

Chapter Three: Statistics 101

Chapter Four: Systems of Oppression

Chapter Five: Lung Stuff

Chuy the Ex-Con

Chuy’s out of prison, and he’s in for a wild ride! When his girlfriend dumps him, he’s still got a raging hardon and a need for a place to sleep. But first, he’s off to sling coke for the Latin Kings directamente — a cholo like Chuy has got chores to do, beggars to beat down, ladies to seduce and casas to break into!

So can he find a hot throbbing hole to satisfy his needs?

Read it now!

Cholos and the Raunchy Hobos of Santa Monica

Anthony enjoys alpha male thugs, cholos and machos of all kinds, and luckily, he has a knack for getting them! His older brother is a high-ranking gangbanger, giving Anthony a way to sample the men he adores. Can he learn to get his rocks off on his own?

Read it now!