Lamar Casper – Mansploitation

The Boss

Lamar is glad to have work, even if it’s difficult, dirty and remote. He’s gotta shower with other men, including his boss Nelson. When it turns out Nelson has some ideas on how two men can meet their needs far from women, Lamar just might have to swing on the downlow whether he wants to or not!

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Lamar stumbled through the worksite towards the temporary showers. Moonlight shone upon the upturned dirt and scattered heavy equipment. Lamar’s hardhat almost fell off, but he righted it. He wasn’t drunk, but in the dark and on the uneven surface of the construction site, it looked like he was. He nearly fell several times.
Behind him, the rest of the work crew hooted and clapped. They were drunk. The crickets were impossibly loud here too — Lamar had thought coming here to the middle of nowhere would be a nice, quiet place to relax, but during the day his fellow workers catcalled each other (since there were no women here) amid the rumbling of heavy machinery, and at night, the crickets crippeted, the sound joining with the men to create a lively chorus louder than any city street Lamar had lived on.
He couldn’t complain. He hadn’t come here for peace and quiet, that was just something he had hoped to find anyway. He had come here to escape a debt.
A lot of what he had expected turned out not to be true. Lamar was a strong young man, a high school basketball star and all-around ladysman. His life was made — he was a good student, a good player, a law-abiding kid who wanted to go to college and was good enough to get a scholarship.
Only he wasn’t quite that good. His senior year had been a disaster. It wasn’t really his fault, the team just fell apart. His grades were awful. In the end, he had been offered a five hundred dollar scholarship to a podunk school that cost thirty-eight times that amount per semester. It was a joke.
And so that had been the end of all his dreams. There was no other way to do it, and he had fucked up.
Now here he was, working for his uncle’s friend, Nelson, who helped Lamar pay off his debt and gave him this job out in the middle of nowhere.
The rural construction site was in south Louisiana, near but not quite on the Gulf Coast. Nelson’s crew was building worker housing for an oil rig that would be built nearby afterwards. They were some thirty miles from the nearest road, living in tents, using endless generators to power makeshift equipment with limited supplies. The pay was not bad, especially since it was impossible to spend any of it most of the time.
But conditions were tough. Nature was loud, the work was long, the heat was stultifying, and the lack of electricity made everything boring.
At least the shower — which was just a tent with a hose contraption attached — seemed likely to feel good. It had its own generator to make its own hot water. That had seemed useless when he started and the day’s heat was like a woolen blanket he couldn’t throw off. But he was getting used to it, and it was chilly at night. A warm shower was going to feel good.
It was funny how something you took for granted could become a luxury in a matter of hours. Hot running water is too basic to be thankful for until the moment you don’t have it anymore, and then it’s the only thing that matters.
He stepped into the shower tent and sighed. He was glad to get away from the other workers. Nelson was the only black man on the crew, and he was the crew leader. That meant Lamar was the only black man among the rank and file. Lamar’s arrival had doubled the black population here, and he wasn’t sure that wase a good thing. The others seemed to see him as an extension of Nelson.
The rest were rednecks and roughnecks and other kinds of necks, Lamar didn’t know. He didn’t understand most of what they said, the drawl, holler and stawk in their voices mixing like currents in an eddy, and what came out was an incomprehensible wash of syllables. Nelson was in charge, and it was plainly obvious that none of them liked taking orders from a black man.
Nelson didn’t take any shit from them, but Lamar commanded no such respect. He was a rookie. He tried to let their words roll off him, but it was tough — if they had been outright racist, that would have been easier, he thought. He could fight them or at least dismiss them as ignorant hillbillies in his mind.
But they weren’t racist, at least not openly, not in a way Lamar could be sure he wasn’t imagining. They just gave Lamar all the worst tasks to do. They delighted in making fun of his skinny arms and relative lack of experience. In the showers, they had taken to pretending his dick was small even though it wasn’t.
That was the other reason he was glad to shower by himself at night. He hadn’t realized the only light in the shower tent came from the sun. It seemed obvious now, but he hadn’t even thought about it before stepping into the tent and realizing he was going to be showering in the dark. That must be why they all showered as soon as work stopped, when the sun was just setting.
Still, the shower tent was just a big wide open area, so there was nothing to bump into, and there was enough moonlight that it wasn’t pitch-black. He sighed when he got in, glad to be able to shower without a bunch of white rednecks crowding in around him.
They were entirely too comfortable with man-on-man contact for Lamar’s taste. They had a game they called the Crack Game, which basically meant they tried to thwack each other with their dicks in the asscrack. It wasn’t even a real game, there was no way to win or lose, no points, no beginning, no end. Lamar panicked the first time one of those hairy hillbillies attempted at Lamar, ramming his cock between Lamar’s plump brown cheeks — half the reason he had never joined a gang was that people had been telling him since he was a boy that his ass was too perfect for prison.
These workers were not too perfect for prison. Most of them had records, and a handful were open about being booty bandits. Lamar tried to stay away from them.
He turned the water on, and let it warm up before stepping under the stream. He sighed. He felt the day’s sweat wash over him, and the pounding stream of water pushed anxiety and aches from his labored muscles. He really liked being in here alone in the dark, he thought, deciding right then and there that he was going to continue showering at night as long as he worked here.
“Who dat?” came Nelson’s deeply accented rural voice.
“Lamar, man. I’m just showerin’-“
“I see that. What’d I tell you ’bout callin’ me man, nigga?”
Lamar rolled his eyes. Luckily Nelson couldn’t see that. Lamar said, “Sorry, sir.” Nelson had told him to call him sir so it didn’t look like he was showing favoritism to his friend’s nephew. Lamar had never called anyone ‘sir’ consistently like that.
He took off his hardhat and placed it next to Lamar’s. Since this entire area was technically a worksite, the hardhat was legally required everywhere except the sleeping quarters and the showers. He’d had it on so long Lamar’s scalp was super-sensitive when he first took it off tonight.
Lamar sighed, annoyed that he wasn’t getting his shower alone. That was another luxury that seemed basic until he didn’t have it anymore.
Even though he couldn’t see the man’s crotch, Lamar kept his eyes scrupulously above Nelson’s waist. That was just polite, that was how he and his fellow teammates had done it in the showers in the projects he grew up in — the juvenile shower had individual stalls, but when they moved up to the adult showering area, they did it in small groups of awkward, gaze-avoiding young men. They pretended not to have ever seen each other’s cocks no matter how often they showered together.
But the rednecks here didn’t do that at all. They compared sizes and pretended to masturbate on each other. They grabbed each other’s nuts and held on just to get the other person’s attention.
A part of Lamar wondered if he would feel better if he could be that relaxed and uninhibited. It wasn’t good to be uptight. They were right, it was just nudity. It was just a dick. We all have them, why not let them out? None of the men here had anything to hide. They all had imperfect bodies, with bellies and hairy backs and some of them have little dinky dicks that they weren’t even ashamed of it.
“Woo-hoo! I’m the undisputed champion of the Crack Game! Ain’t nobody can compete with me!” A hillbilly drawl echoed from the campsite. Sound traveled so clearly at night that Lamar could hear it easily even here in the shower. “Got a cock like a baseball bat!”
Lamar shuddered. That was a hillbilly named Cooter, who had a Confederate flag on his belly and a hoggish cock, ugly as a dead baby in a puddle, shit! He had hair on his back, he was one of those kinds of white men. Lamar did not like that kind of white man. Not in a racist way, he felt the same way about an Arab or a Jew or a Mexican whose chest hair had grown up over his shoulders and onto his back. Nah. Lamar don’t play that way. Cooter loved the Crack Game, the other workers must have been playing it outside.
“Cooter is shameful white trash,” Nelson said. He shook his head, wrinkling his nose as he got in the shower next to Lamar. “He dirty.”
Lamar wanted to complain and ask him to use a different shower, further away, but he didn’t dare. He just nodded and trembled.
“You seen that Confederate flag tattoo, right?” he asked and Lamar nodded. Nelson spat on the wooden floor of the shower tent. “He racist as shit.”
“He told me he wasn’t, he said he lost his virginity to a black girl,” Lamar said.
“Yeah, that’s just what he say. It’s true — I think — but he ain’t tellin’ the whole story cuz he don’t know you yet. That black girl was a prostitute his papa bought him. He told me that last year,” Nelson said.
“Oh. Okay.”
“They’s all racist. They don’t like me givin’ ’em orders,” Nelson said.
“They seem to respect you.”
“They do, but they don’t like it,” Nelson said. He cleared his throat and leaned back so the water ran over his powerful chest and big cock — Lamar couldn’t tell how big it really was because he refused to look directly at it, but even out the corner of his eye, he could tell it was big. “You like it here?”
Lamar shrugged. “The pay’s good.”
“That ain’t what I asked, boy. I’m gonna talk to yo’ uncle when I go back to the office tomorrow,” he said. “What should I tell him?”
“Tell him it’s fine, tell him I’m doin’ good,” Lamar said.
Nelson nodded. “Okay.” He paused, then whistled and placed one hand on Lamar’s flat belly. “You got a nice six-pack, boy. You probably get all kinds of girls with that, huh?”
Lamar burned with embarrassment as he mumbled his agreement. The other workers had been making fun of his ladysman smile and taut belly as well. Really Nelson had pretty close to a six-pack too — not quite, there was a hint of pudge there, but it was close enough that Lamar didn’t see much of a difference between their bellies.
His entire body tensed at the touch of Nelson’s hand. Lamar was a star basketball player, so he was used to his coach slapping his ass and rubbing his back. But something about the darkened, humid environment made this more nerve-wracking.
“You doin’ okay wit’out a girl here?”
Lamar nodded, then realized Nelson couldn’t see that. “Yeah,” he said, as casually as he could muster. Nelson’s hand slipped around his belly and clutched the small of his back. It rested there, gripping him loosely. Nelson’s hand was callused and firm, his fingers thick.
“You ever mess around on the downlow?”
His words hung there in the humid shower air. Lamar gulped. “No,” he said. He trembled, cursing himself for looking weak in front of Nelson.
Nelson chuckled dryly. “Really? That don’t sound like the truth, nigga.”
“Well… I mean…”
“You ain’t gotta go on,” he said. “I know what that means, you don’t wanna mess wit’ those rednecks. I don’t mess around with white men neither. Reminds me too much of prison life.”
“Okay.”
“You ain’t no kinda white man,” he said.
“Yeah…”
“You wanna jack me off?”
“No…”
“You wanna take it in the ass?”
“No way!” Lamar yelped and bit his lip as Nelson took his hand and placed it on Nelson’s thick rod. It spasmed as soon as Lamar touched it. Lamar felt a shudder of disgust, as well as horniness, run up his body. He’d been on the DL with some buddies in the past but never an older man like Nelson. Nelson sighed loudly, right in Lamar’s ear. Lamar’s heart raced and he shuddered. He tried to take his hand away, but Nelson held it in place, and Lamar had no choice but to hold onto its hot, throbbing thickness. Lamar gulped. “I, uh… If we on the downlow, that means I get to stick you too, right, nigga?”
“What was that?”
“I mean… sir.”
“Thank you. No, that ain’t right, Lamar. I’m yo’ boss. How would it look if I let you put it in me?” He said, softly, moving his mouth right next to Lamar’s ear.
“Nobody is here-“
“They could walk in,” he said. He kissed Lamar on the ear. “How about this, nigga? I’ll give you a reacharound.”
“What’s that?” Lamar asked before he had even given it any thought — of course it was obvious if you paused to consider it. He blushed, thinking he probably sounded naive. He knew what a reacharound was. His mind simply wasn’t working fast enough to keep up with the reality unfolding around him.
Nelson laughed. “Your uncle ain’t nevuh tell you what a reacharound is? He ain’t tell you ’bout prison?”
“Uh… My mom won’t let him tell me that stuff. She says it’s impolite to talk about prison.”
“Oh, you one of dem sheltered chilluns, huh?”
“No!”
In one smooth motion, Nelson slid behind Lamar. He wedged his dick between Lamar’s cheeks. Nelson was rock-hard, already leaking precum into Lamar’s ass.
“Well, when yo’ uncle and me was in prison together, we had sum rules. The guards took it serious, nigga,” Nelson said. He leaned in close so he could whisper in Lamar’s ear. “They ain’t wanna get involved when inmates get in fights with stiffies. So they make up a rule. You can do whatevuh it takes to blow a nut if the nigga on top give a reacharound. Then you ain’t a bitch, not a punk, you just lettin’ another man use yo’ butthole for awhile.”
Lamar shuddered. He bit his lip and looked down.
“Don’t be like that, nigga. We messin’ around on the downlow,” Nelson said. “Don’t go telling yo’ uncle I hurt you. I ain’t. You can tell me to fuck off if you want.”
A part of Lamar did want to tell him that, but a bigger part of him didn’t want to. Not only would it be easier to just go along with it, Lamar was very horny. He hadn’t realized how much he was going to miss girls. Back when he messed around on the DL in his old neighborhood, Lamar had always sworn he wouldn’t do it again, but when the opportunity presented itself and he was horny… the prospect of getting it in the butt seemed like a good trade for getting to blow a nut himself. He let his stiffies guide him then. It was only after it was all over that Lamar again promised himself that next time he would say no.
He was older now, more mature, better able to handle the sometimes intense horniness arising from his crotch.
“Will you jerk me off too? On the downlow?” Lamar asked. “I mean… since you don’t wanna take it in the ass-“
“Nah, I don’t do that,” Nelson said, taking Lamar’s words as acquiescence. “Thank you, baby. I’ll tell yo’ uncle you doin’ real good. I won’t tell ‘im about this.”
“Okay.”
“It don’t count in the dark, nigga. By the time morning comes around, you gonna be walkin’ normal again,” he said. “And if not, I’ll take you with me back to the office, so you get a whole day to recover. It’ll be like this nevuh happened.”
Then Nelson pumped his hips, slamming his dick into Lamar’s ass. Lamar bucked and squealed. A sharp burst of pain hit him, and he arched his back. Lamar held his breath and gripped the hose supplying his showerhead for support.
“Sssh, sssh,” Nelson said. “When you and yo’ buddies mess around on the downlow, you ever do it in the butt?”
“Uh… no…” That wasn’t true, but Lamar didn’t want to admit it to Nelson.
Nelson smiled. “I ain’t realize that, nigga. Hmm-hmm, I’s takin’ yo’ intactness,” he said. “Sorry ’bout that.” He paused to grab a bar of soap and work up a lather. He used that as lube as he slowly worked more of his dick into Lamar. He handed Lamar the bar of soap so he could use both hands to guide his cock.
As soon as he grabbed the soap, Lamar knew he was going to drop it. It slipped right out of his hand and plopped onto the wet wooden floor. Lamar gasped, and Nelson laughed.
“Go on then, bend over,” Nelson said. “That’s a better position anyway.”
Sharp, shooting pains ran up his side as Lamar bent over. He had no sooner touched the soap when another ray of agony shot through him. Lamar gasped as a deep ball of pleasure boiled up too — it felt distant for now, like it occurred behind all the pain, but it was undeniably there.
“Grab yo’ ankles, boi,” Nelson said.
Lamar did so. He couldn’t decide if this was a more or less painful position than any others. He gritted his teeth as Nelson pushed another inch or two of his dick in, and that pit of pleasure grew stronger.
Then Nelson’s hand crept around and grabbed Lamar’s dick. Lamar yelped again, even though it wasn’t a surprise. He lifted his head as intense pre-orgasmic energy roiled through him.
His ass loosened up enough that Nelson could plow him more easily, a fact that Lamar found humiliating. It was comforting to know that Nelson wouldn’t bring this up tomorrow. Nelson even kissed him on his grizzled neck, his own thick mustache bristling against Lamar’s skin.
Then Nelson’s free arm wrapped around Lamar’s body and held him close. His smooth chest rubbed against Lamar’s back, muscles rippling. Lamar’s dick pulsated beneath Nelson’s grip. Lamar wanted to let go but didn’t. The more he squeezed, the more Nelson’s whole body rippled and his muscles flexed where they pressed against Lamar’s limbs.
“You gonna nut now, nigga?”
“I dunno…” Lamar said, breathless. He wasn’t lying, but as soon as he said it, he knew the correct answer was yes.
Nelson seemed to realize that. He licked Lamar’s cheek. “I love feelin’ niggas orgasm when my dick’s inside ’em. So go on. I wanna feel it,” he said. He repeated himself over and over, his deep, gruff voice resonating in Lamar’s ear. Lamar really wanted to tell him to shut up, but before he could, his orgasm hit him. He moaned and bucked, hips flexing as he pushed his ass backwards onto Nelson’s manhood.
Hot cum sprayed within the shower, mixing with the warm water and slipping between the slats of wood that made up the floor. Lamar writhed in Nelson’s biceps as pleasure erupted deep within him.
Nelson held on tight as the orgasm burst in Lamar’s ass, spreading throughout his body. Then Nelson let out a long low sigh right in Lamar’s ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Both of Nelson’s arms wrapped around Lamar’s belly. “Sorry ’bout this, nigga. Might hurt a bit,” he said softly. Then he rammed his dick in and out in a series of long, smooth actions. Blinding pain erupted in Lamar’s ass, and he bit his lip to avoid screaming. The pain grew more and more intense before transforming into intense bliss.
He didn’t know how long Nelson plowed him hard like that. It felt like eons, but was probably only a few seconds. Soon enough, it was over and Nelson held on with his dick at maximum penetration.
Then hot semen spurted out, coating Lamar’s insides. Lamar moaned, embarrassed at how orgasmic the sound was — he didn’t mean to sound like he was enjoying this, even if a part of him did enjoy it. Intense sensations wracked his body, and he cried out as spasms of pleasure spread through his frame. He hoped it sounded like pain to Nelson, so he wouldn’t think Lamar wanted to do this again.
He did want to do it again. He just didn’t want to want to do it again.
He shuddered with humiliation as wad after wad of cum flowed into him. It dripped down his thighs and landed on the floor. The creamy semen seeped into every corner of Lamar’s body.
“Gimme yo’ hand, boy,” Nelson said with a growl. “I don’t like it when my dick just fall out of a nigga’s ass. Keep stroking it, okay?” He placed Lamar’s hand on the root of his limpening dick as he slowly withdrew it.
Lamar gulped nervously but did as he was told. Nelson’s dick was thick and slimy, dripping with shower water, soap suds, dried sweat and sticky semen. Lamar’s stomach churned and he gagged at the warm texture of it.
Finally it was all the way out. Nelson kissed him on the lips, and even shoved his tongue into Lamar’s mouth. Then he stepped away and washed his dick off in the stream of hot shower water.
“You okay, nigga?” he asked.
Lamar winced and straightened his legs. He still felt burning pain, and deep inside, remnants of his orgasm, but he tried to hide it. He mumbled, “Yeah, it’s okay, nigga.”
“What?”
“I mean… I’m okay, sir.”
“Good. I put a tub of aloe in yo’ bunk. It’s under yo’ pillow,” Nelson said as he walked back to his clothes. He didn’t put them on though, he just put that hardhat back on his head — that was legally required, after all — and picked his clothes up. “Put that aloe in your ass. It’ll help,” he said, then walked out of the tent, bare cock flapping in the breeze.
Lamar breathed a sigh of relief. That hadn’t been too painful, he thought, and at least he didn’t get caught. He shuddered at the silhouettes of his redneck coworkers, who were still hanging out by the campfire, hollering at each other and thwacking each other’s asses with their cocks.
The sound of their carrying on filled the night sky. Lamar just smiled, washed his ass off and walked to his tent. That had been humiliating, he thought, but fun as well, and it seemed like a worthwhile trade if it gave him a chance to work here and pay off his debt. Just like Nelson, he remained naked on the walk to his bunk except for the hardhat he kept on his head. The aloe was there at his bunk, just as Nelson had promised, and it did help the pain.
He managed to sink into restful sleep before the rednecks even got back to their bunks, and for the first time since he got there, Lamar felt like he was where he was supposed to be.

The Couchsurfer

Rob lets a studly young alpha sleep on his couch, as long as Rob gets to swing on his big black meat. Can Rob handle his tenant’s huge throbbing rent payment?

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Read the whole thing here!

Rob Winthrop wanted to let Lamar sleep in, but it was tough to resist touching him. Lamar’s eighteen-year-old body gleamed, sprawled out on the couch he barely fit on. It was a big couch, but Lamar was tall, with limbs like catapaults. He was sound asleep. He hadn’t even been home that long, Lamar only returned from his friend’s party a few hours before sunrise.
He wore only boxers, and the sheet he had covered himself with had fallen onto the floor. Rob could catch a few tantalizing glimpses of his dick through the fly, through which a couple stray pubic hairs were visible.
Rob gently tweaked Lamar’s nipple to see if he would wake up. But he didn’t. He was passed-out cold. He pulled Lamar’s soft dick out from within the boxers he had passed out in. Even limp as cooked spaghetti, it was almost a foot long and meaty, even heavier than it looked. Rob thwacked it against his palm.
Still, Lamar didn’t wake up.
Lamar was just eighteen years old. He had come to Rob last month to say that he heard Rob paid money to jack off black guys with big dicks, in hopes of it making Rob’s dick bigger. Rob had explained that that wasn’t exactly true. Rob did appreciate men with superb physiques, but he was not especially into black men and did not believe doing it would make his own dick bigger. But Lamar didn’t believe him. He kept referring to Rob as a lover of big black cock.
Regardless, Rob had given him money then so he could get a tattoo.
That was the words THUG LIFE tattooed on Lamar’s bicep, in short block letters that ran all the way around his arm. While Lamar remained unconscious, Rob slurped some of his drunk-night-sweat off that tattooed bicep. Fully erect, his dick was more than a foot long and so thick Rob couldn’t circle his fingers around the whole shaft. As Lamar stayed unconscious, Rob grew bolder about groping his muscular body.
Then Lamar finally stirred and smiled like a cocky bastard after Rob rammed his fingers into Lamar’s pants and started stroking. His cock was sweaty and soft — spongy-soft, like he had fucked until he couldn’t anymore. That was probably exactly what happened at that party Lamar went to.
“Pretty big, huh?” Lamar asked with a groggy groan and chuckle. Now that he was awoke, his dick twitched in Rob’s grasp.
“Yeah.”
“You like this nigga dick, huh? Well you don’t get to swallow it, not for a li’l tat,” Lamar said. He kept telling Rob that over and over as Rob jacked him off — even though Rob hadn’t tried to put it in his mouth. “You want it so bad, I can tell. You got nigga-lover written on yo’ forehead, honky. You feel me? Huh? You feel my meat throbbin’ in yo’ fingers. That’s happenin’ fo’ you. That’s my present to you, man. Ain’t no way you get to swallow it though, nuh-uh.”
Then he gasped and shot his load in his pants. It coated Rob’s hand and trickled down his wrist. He wanted to lick it off, but Lamar stopped him.
“Nah. Go wipe yo’ hand, whiteman,” he said. He licked his lips and moaned. “I ain’t lettin’ you taste my nut. That’s nasty. Girls only.” He stood there and watched, thick trunk-like cockshaft swaying between his legs, as Rob looked forlornly at the tasty cum all over his hand but wiped it off with a paper towel. Lamar left then, climbing into some white girl’s car just seconds after tucking his dick back into his pants.
Rob had watched his ass through the shorts that were visible above his sagging jeans. Rob wanted more than anything to taste his dick and feel it inside him, but Lamar had said no. That was before he showed up on Rob’s doorstep a few days ago. He said he was running from the po-po, though he later also mentioned a fight with his stepdad. “You can swing on my dick,” Lamar said with a crude sneer. “But I ain’t touchin’ you. No way.”
“Okay,” Rob said with a shrug. He knew he could get something more when Lamar was drunk enough.
Now he wondered if it was time to get a taste of Lamar’s cock. He had let Lamar move in and sleep here for two days, and all Rob had gotten out of it was the sight of Lamar’s tight body and a few handjobs.
Anyway, Lamar went out clubbing with that white girl or maybe different white girls, then came home at dawn once more. Rob had already given Lamar money, enough that he could easily buy himself beer and pay the cover charge to get into some bar. Lamar had used up all the money though, paying for not just his beer but also his friends’s and of course fruity cocktails for girls with juicy asses.
When Lamar had returned to the house early yet again, with the sun peeking over the horizon, he had staggered in drunkenly. He’d plopped onto the couch and slept awhile before getting up to vomit. Then he managed to brush his teeth and drink a glass of water before returning to the couch.
And now here was Rob yet again, trying to stimulate his unconscious couchsurfing roommate to erection. He’d said it was fine if Lamar went out partying every night, but he didn’t think Lamar would actually find a party “fulla mad bitches” every single night.
At least tonight, Lamar’s cock had slipped out from the fly of his boxers, which made it easy for Rob to stroke it. It was like a dead snake in his hand, a long tube of dark muscle that was firm even in its soft state. Rob licked his lips as he flopped it between his fingers.
Lamar was still passed out cold. When it was clear he wouldn’t wake up, Rob bent over and licked Lamar’s cock from the root to the tip, which he then put in his mouth. He again looked up. Lamar didn’t awake, but he did move his head to the side.
That gave Rob an idea. He got his own dick out. His heart pounding, Rob put it on Lamar’s lips. Rob’s cocktip throbbed on Lamar’s mouth.
His handsome brown face was still calm and asleep, and the coarse hairs of his unshaved cheeks and chin rubbed against Rob’s shaft. Lamar wrinkled his nose in his sleep. Rob flopped his rapidly firming dick around on Lamar’s face, and he attempted at Lamar’s mouth but didn’t force it in, lest the sensation wake him up.
Lamar stirred. He moaned and wiggled his ass, but he didn’t wake up the rest of the way. He murmured and grumbled. Rob sensed him waking and took his dick away, just before Lamar let out a little gag.
Holding his breath, Rob waited to see if Lamar realized why he had gagged. He was definitely waking up now. But Lamar must have figured it was lingering drunkenness.
Rob leaned in and inhaled deeply of Lamar’s musk. He inserted his nose the best he could between Lamar’s tricep and his chest, and he sniffed the musk of his armpit. It was an intoxicating, heady aroma that made Rob moan.
He licked the tight muscle of Lamar’s pecs. They were not huge — he was no bodybuilder — but they were like taut balls of rock-hard flesh beneath soft skin, brimming with power and body heat. Rob lapped at the soft flesh, which rippled beneath his touch.
“Aw, damn, baby…” Lamar murmured. His eyes gradually blinked open. He kept wiggling, and his breathing hurried up as Rob caressed his shaft.
His dick twitched beneath Rob’s fingers. Rob gave it a stroke, and it started to get hard.
“Oh. Oh, damn,” Lamar murmured. He had obviously forgotten where he was and thought it was a woman on his dick until he opened his eyes fully. Now he was full of nervous gasps and sucking in his breath. He swayed as though the couch under him moved, too dizzy from drunken surprise to react. “Ew, nasty, man, shit…”
Rob’s tongue traveled down Lamar’s taut stomach. Now that he was awake, Lamar giggled like he was ticklish but trying to hide it the entire time Rob licked at his flesh. His muscles writhed beneath Rob’s tongue. Letting out a moist gurgling sound, Lamar wrapped his fingers around Rob’s head and pushed him towards Lamar’s crotch, but then Lamar let go — feeling Rob’s short haircut reminded Lamar he wasn’t with a girl. He covered his face with one forearm, while his other hand gently guided Rob to his crotch.
After a night of drinking, Lamar’s body was covered with a sheen of dried sweat. That was perfect for Rob, who loved the taste of his flesh. It was clean, slightly soapy, yet salty from sweat and tasting just a bit of cocoa butter.
“Yo, you gunna ssshwalluh my nut?” Lamar’s voice was weak, though he tried to sound tough. He was too nervous to stop laughing though, and he could only cover that up by flexing his muscles and growling intermittently. He couldn’t stop writhing to the sensation of Rob’s tongue traveling over his body.
“Yes,” Rob said. “I am.” He kissed the tip of Lamar’s dick, which throbbed and twitched like it was begging him to swallow it. “Tell me about last night. Did you have fun?”
“Yeah,” Lamar said. His forearm was still over his eyes so he didn’t accidentally see who was on his cock. A drunken burp escaped from his mouth, and he scrunched his eyes shut even though his gaze was blocked by his forearm. Now that he was fully awake and had taken a deep breath, his throbbing erection helped bring him down from the drunken dizzies, and he could speak clearly if he concentrated on his words and not the throbbing of his cock in Rob’s mouth. “It was cool. My nigga got this bitch to give up the booty, man. We ran a train on her in the bathroom of the club. Nasty-ass bitch.”
“Oh? You fucked her there in the bathroom?” Rob pulled off Lamar’s dick just long enough to ask his question, and then he thwacked Lamar’s erection all over his face like a billyclub.
Lamar nodded like a cocky bastard and ran his tongue between his lips and his teeth. “Yeah. She was on her knees on that piss-stained floor, like a fuckin’ slut. I had sloppy seconds — or like sloppy fifths, I think, fifths in her pussy anyway — and it was all drippin’ out. Made me gag and shit.”
“Why’d you do it?” Rob asked as his tongue slathered spit over Lamar’s ribs while his hand flopped Lamar’s cock around. He part lost his erction every time Rob let it go for a few seconds, which Rob enjoyed because he liked playing with a half-hard cock. Lamar was desperately horny, that much was obvious from the way he gasped every few seconds as he talked, and his hips kept bucking like he was fucking the air. Rob stroked his dick, which was just meaty enough to feel solid as Rob thwacked it against Lamar’s flesh and his own face.
“What?”
“Why’d you do it if you had to take sloppy-fifths?”
There was a long silence. “That a trick question? It was pussy, man. She gave it up,” he said.
“Oh, I thought it sounded gross.”
“It was gross.”
“I guess I just don’t get it,” Rob asked. He spat loudly, covering Lamar’s dick with his saliva, which made Lamar groan. Rob licked all that spit up. “Did you joust with your buddies?”
“Joust? Oh, you mean, like touch dicks in her mouth and shit? Yeah, me and my nigga Killer always do that shit. He was the fourth, you know, he was the one who shot his load right before me-” He paused. “Wait, I gotta do somethin’.” He reached down for the pants he had thrown down onto the ground. He pulled out his cell phone.
“Is something wrong?”
“I gotta tell Killer somethin’, you can keep strokin’ my dick. You gonna swallow my nut or what?” He said as he dialed.
“I just like to play with it first. It’s so big,” Rob said smiling at how Lamar proudly bristled and arched his back. Rob stuck out his tongue and licked Lamar’s dick from root to tip, very slowly, slathering spit the entire way.
That made Lamar moan uncontrollably, and his cock rocketed to full erection. Killer, on the other side of the line, laughed — he must have heard the moan as soon as he answered the phone. Rob couldn’t hear Killer’s words though, just his laughter.
“Thought you should know my dick is like three shades lighter,” Lamar said. He chuckled at Killer. “Yeah, yo’ nut stained my shit, Killer! I know it was yo’s — nah, you know that nigga ain’t got — oh — Fuck dat shit, nigga!” Lamar went on, laughing and carrying on, but he and Killer talked over each other so much that Rob couldn’t follow the conversation. He gathered that Lamar and Killer had made an inside joke last night, something to do with all the cum sticking to Lamar’s cock after he had sloppy fifths and staining it until it was a lighter shade.
Rob kept on stroking it though. He wanted Lamar desperate to blow his nut.
“Yeah, nigga. Okay. Peace, one love,” Lamar said and hung up the phone. He glared at Rob and tried to sit up, but Rob chose that moment to put the tip of his cock in Rob’s mouth. He suckled on the piss-slit and slathered a huge wad of saliva that dripped down the shaft. A wave of pleasure hit Lamar, who moaned and leaned back, laying down again on the couch, the same position he had been asleep in just a few minutes ago. “Yo, honky, you just playin’ wit’ it. I’m lettin’ you swing on that shit, you best handle it proper. Don’t you blueball me.”
“I’d never do that,” Rob said. “You want me to swallow it now?”
Every fiber of Lamar’s being told him to say yes. He writhed on the couch, cock throbbing in Rob’s hand. But still, Lamar didn’t. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“If you want, I ain’t into that nasty-nasty, and I got females all over,” Lamar said, even as he gasped and writhed beneath Rob’s touch. “I, uh… I mean… I’m just doin’ this for a couch to crash on. If’n you okay wit’ just swallowin’ a nut, I ain’t tryin’-a, y’know, do nothin’ wit’ you, I ain’t swallowin’ nothin’.”
“I would never make you swallow anything,” Rob said. He kept stroking Lamar’s shaft, but he kept his rhythm slow and inconsistent so Lamar’s body cried out for a warm, wet mouth.
Lamar murmured. “You best pay me,” he said. He laughed at himself, and at Rob, as he covered his face with a pillow to avoid seeing Rob’s masculine features.
“You want money?” Rob said. “How about I let you borrow my car? Is that okay?” Rob could afford plenty of money, but he had a feeling admitting that to Lamar would end up poorly for him. So he was pretending to be poorer than he was.
“Borrow your car, like anytime?”
“As long as you live here,” Rob said. “And let me keep playing with your dick.”
“Fine, fine,” Lamar said. “Okay. Just get me off…” His voice was muffled because of the pillow over his face.
Rob put the tip back in his mouth again, and he suckled on it loudly. Lamar moaned and his back arched. He nearly leapt off the couch. Then Rob removed his mouth and giggled. “You want me to swallow or spit?”
“Swallow, swallow, man, come on, just do it,” Lamar said, his attempt to show reluctance now forgotten. He roared in frustration and bit the pillow in front of his face. His youthful muscles cringed, and his dick reached up into the air, searching instinctively for a hole to penetrate. “C’mon, man, I gotta blow my load-“
Rob mounted Lamar the best he could as he laid on the couch, so that Rob’s dick and Lamar’s met. Lamar looked away and groaned, while Rob began frotting both cocks together.
“Let’s cum together,” Rob said.
A loud sucking sound came from Lamar’s mouth. He’d jousted with his niggas before in a bitch’s mouth, but he’d never frotted before. He looked at his massive cock rubbing against Rob’s, which was smaller but not small enough that Lamar could really make fun of him for it. Lamar looked away. “C’mon, man, nah, nah-” He grunted.
“Your dick is so big…” Rob said with a smile.
“I know but — I know but — I-” Lamar didn’t want to ruin a good thing by refusing or hitting Rob, though his hand formed a fist like he might do it out of instinct. Really Lamar wouldn’t have minded frotting — it was gross, but for a place to sleep, he could live with it — as long as he could guarantee Rob wouldn’t cum on his face or go any farther than this. And Lamar wished he could sober up and eat something first.
“Sorry, sorry, can’t help it…” Rob said, his voice warbling and breaking, as he shot his load. Pleasure wracked Rob’s body, and a jet of jizz spurted out. It plopped onto Lamar’s dick and into his crotch hair, but then Rob aimed it up to his six-pack and beyond.
Lamar groaned in disgust, and cum sprayed over his powerful brown chest. It made his tattoos gleam as his muscles flexed. Pleasure shuddered through Rob’s body, making him shimmy and shake, and his cock pulsated where it rubbed on Lamar’s own dick.
“I won’t cum on your face,” Rob said, but even as he said that Rob leaned back and moaned again, and his last spray of cum got as far as Lamar’s chin.
“Ew, man, shit…” Lamar let out a nervous chuckle as he wiped his chin off. He faced away from Rob, so he didn’t get more cum on his face and didn’t have to watch his cock frot with Rob’s. “You gonna swallow my load, right?”
Rob did so without another word. He jammed his own head into Lamar’s crotch, swallowing as much of that massive shaft as he could get in his throat. Rob gagged and choked, but kept going until he had nearly every inch. He tasted Lamar’s machismo in the precum trickling down his throat, its salty flavor and creamy thickness overwhelming his senses.
“Aaaaaaaaah….” Lamar moaned like he was finally scratching an itch he had been trying to reach for a long time.
Then Lamar grabbed Rob’s head to plow down on his throat. Rob loved that, and Lamar normally did too, but as soon as he did, Lamar knew it was a bad idea. That’s because Rob had very short hair, and when Lamar touched it, he was reminded of the man on his dick.
Lamar groaned with disappointment. His dick didn’t get any softer, but it did slow down. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, since Rob thought he could still take this farther. But for now, Rob thought, Lamar was disappointed that Rob wasn’t a girl.
“Damn, man, I can’t forget you ain’t a bitch,” Lamar said. “Hang on, lemme call this fat chick.” He dialed another number on his phone. “Yo. Hey, baby. Nah, I can’t tonight. I got, uh, y’know, a meetin’ to go to.” The plump girl on the other end was Miranda, and Lamar made sure to emphasize meeting in a way that suggested it was some sort of gang activity. Miranda was a rotund white girl who loved bad boys, so she giggled at the thought of Lamar at a gang meeting. Her voice made Lamar grunt, and another few drops of precum coated Rob’s tongue. Lamar removed the pillow from his face.
Rob moved down to slurp on Lamar’s balls. He put them both in his mouth and gargled loudly, making Lamar laugh into the phone even as he talked to his booty call.
“I know it’s early, baby. I just wanted to hear yo’ voice. I been, y’know, I been in trouble and shit,” Lamar said. His voice kept trailing off, distracted by the feelings of pleasure arising from his sensitive balls in Rob’s mouth. Lamar’s voice cracked. “Yeah, baby. I’m in jail. Uh-huh. I be out soon. My lawyer is comin’ to bail me out. Uh-huh. Can you talk me off? I’m jackin’ it right now.” He paused and laughed. “Yeah, there’s some whiteboy here cryin’. I think he okay, he just glad I ain’t gonna beat his ass.” He paused and affected a charming smile. “Yeah, I’s talkin’ ’bout you, whiteboy. If there wasn’t a phone in here, I’d be beatin’ you to shreds just to pass the time.”
As Lamar talked, showing off to his female friend, Rob continued slurping on his balls. Then he moved back up to the shaft. His tongue traced the pulsating veins all the way from root to tip.
“Yeah, you gonna give up the booty, right? Maybe I skip that meeting tonight, after I get bailed out. Maybe I come over. Uh-huh. You gonna let me tap that ass, right? No condom. Uh-huh. I wanna taste yo’ titties, girl,” he said. He groaned. “Maybe I titty-fuck you for a bit. You know I love thick-ass bitches and I am — no, wait! Baby! Baby!” He screamed into the phone, which he then threw onto the ground. “Fuck you! Fuckin’ hell!” He roared and slapped his own thighs. His dick throbbed in Rob’s mouth. “Fuck!”
Rob pulled off his dick. “What happened?”
“I called her a thick-ass bitch,” Lamar said. “I sorta forgot she was white and she gonna take that as an insult. Ain’t no insult!”
“Oh, that’s too bad, baby…” Rob thwacked Lamar’s erection against his face.
“She ain’t even listen to me explain. I was in jail, y’know, I prolly heard all kind of bad words. I just forgot to moderate myself, y’know,” he said. He groaned as he started to grind his hips, shoving his dick back into Rob’s mouth.
Rob pulled away, gently stroking Lamar’s dick even as Lamar flexed his hips, trying to get his knob wet again. Rob said, “You’re not in jail.”
“Yeah, but she thought I was!” Lamar said. He squirmed, his body overly energetic from both horniness and anger. “Ain’t fair. You can’t hang up on a nigga who call you from jail, just cuz he use some bad words. It’s fuckin’ jail!”
“Sure, sure,” Rob said. He licked Lamar’s dick from root to tip. Once again, Lamar grabbed his head and tried to force it back into position to swallow his whole shaft. Rob resisted. Lamar didn’t even seem to be aware of the fact that he was trying to force his dick into Rob’s mouth, he just kept talking about how angry he was at the girl and his cock and his hands worked on autopilot.
Rob enjoyed teasing him. Every few seconds, he’d let Lamar ram his dick down his throat. Lamar would moan and let go of Rob’s head. Then Rob would pull off and Lamar would swear some more before doing it again.
“That fuckin’ bitch, she don’t know jack shit! She think she my girlfriend, she think I just fuck other females cuz my niggas expect it. That’s what I tell her. She dumb as shit. She dumb as her own fat ass.”
“Are you gonna go back to her and apologize?”
Lamar thought for a moment. “Yeah. I prolly will. Not fo’ awhile. Give it a month or two, and I’ll go over there in the night, tell her I been in lockup and I need a woman’s touch. I be back in her asshole right quick, I tell you that!” His anger was gone now. He laid back and let Rob lick his cockshaft.
“Speaking of assholes…” Rob said.
“You want me to stick you?”
Rob nodded.
He sighed dramatically, and recovered his face with his forearm. “You gotta buy me somethin’. There’s a gold chain wit’ a platinum crucifix on it. Got rubies and some shit. Fair-trade mined in Kenya,” he said. “You gotta buy me that.” He paused. “And Netflix, man. Why ain’t you got Netflix?”
Rob laughed. “I just don’t watch a lot of TV. I’ll get Netflix, I’ll buy you that chain, no problem.”
“You ain’t fuckin’ wit’ me, is you?”
“I swear,” Rob said. “You gotta do something else for me too though.”
“What’s that? I ain’t touchin’ yo’ dick, whiteman. Don’t even try and ask me fo’ a reacharound.” He groaned and slapped his dick over Rob’s face.
“No, not that. Call my dad.”
“What?”
“Call my dad and tell him what’s going on,” Rob said. He explained about how much he hated his father and how he loved humiliating him.
Lamar looked dubious at first, but then he smiled. He and his friends often made fun of this crackhead named Greenbelly, and Lamar did a spot-on impression of him. He was so excited to use that impression that he wasn’t even nervous as Rob’s ass slid onto his cock.
It was only as he dialed that Lamar realized he could feel Rob’s short ass-hairs on his dick. With wide eyes, Lamar watched Rob slide up and down. The feeling was disgusting — faint, but still, Lamar could feel it too strongly to pretend he was with a woman. He turned his head away so he wouldn’t have to see it.
“Hello?”
“Yo, you got a son who a real bitch? I got my dick in his ass, and he keep squirmin’. What’s up wit’ dat, honky? Huh? I’m tryin’-a smoke some crack while I dip my dick in ‘im, and he don’t sit still.”
Rob was distracted by the pain and pleasure in his ass, but he still laughed. Lamar’s crackhead-impression was great, with a frantic, clipped tone like he was really angry Rob was interfering with his crack-smoking. Rob’s father didn’t say anything on the other line, but his scoffing and his annoyed breathing were audible.
“Huh? You gonna make him sit still? Gonna burn yo’ boy wit’ dis crack pipe. He pay me eight dollar, honky, and I tells him dat, fo’ eight dollar, you get my dick and you get my hepatitises and you get my Lucy on yo’ back — I calls my crack pipe Lucy — she say I gotta smoke her e’ry day. What? What do you call yo’ crack pipe? Oh, you don’t name it? It ain’t gonna know it’s special if you don’t-” Lamar paused. “Oh, he hung up.”
“You’re really good at that,” Rob said as his prostate exploded with pressure and intense pleasure. Lamar’s cock throbbed in his ass.
“Yeah, that’s my Greenbelly impression. He this crackhead I know back in the projects, always sellin’ wifebeaters and shit,” he said. He snorted and sat up. Rob was sitting on Lamar’s crotch, so Lamar had to struggle to rearrange himself. “Gonna blow a nut in ya. Then I gotta take yo’ car and go visit my parole officer. You buy Netflix and make sure you got a credit card you can charge two grand on. When I get back, we goin’ to the mall so you can buy me that chain.”
“Okay,” Rob said, wincing as he moved with Lamar’s thirteen-inch cock inside him.
Lamar swayed as he got up on his feet — he hadn’t stood since last night — but he regained his balance quickly. He took a deep breath and slammed his dick in and out hard.
It was an intensely awkward position. Lamar alternated between trying to pretend he was a hardcore thug who knew how to treat a man like a prison bitch, and pretending he was so utterly macho he was disgusted by what he was doing. In reality, the truth was in between — he wasn’t disgusted, really, just awkward and glad his friends weren’t here to see.
Lamar forcefully pushed Rob’s face to the floor, while he lifted Rob’s hips. It was an awkward position for Rob, who took Lamar’s dick with such force he had trouble keeping his feet on the ground, meaning a large portion of his weight was supported by his own head.
Now that he was in position, Lamar drilled his cock in deep. He bellowed and pounded on his chest while he used all his weight to slam his dick in deeply. He chuckled and looked around as though waiting for his niggas to laugh with him, but of course they weren’t here.
Then he grabbed Rob’s hips and gyrated his crotch. He slammed his dick in a few times before he realized he was touching Rob’s mannish body. He let go and pounded freestyle for a couple seconds.
“Damn…” He grabbed Rob’s hips again to steady him, but then dropped him again. Every time Lamar felt Rob’s male body-hair, it reminded him he wasn’t with a woman, so he let go.
He felt like that slowed him down, like every time it happened he got farther from his orgasm. But that wasn’t really true. Lamar was too young for much of anything to slow him down — it just slowed down his mind.
So he was still thinking that he had to struggle to cum when an orgasm hit him suddenly. He grunted and yelped, embarrassed at his own animated reaction — he had thought he’d barely be able to do it at all, but he actually shot one of the biggest loads of his life.
His tight young muscles all flexed at once, and he groaned. Rob moaned in harmony with him, which made Lamar nervous because he could hear the masculine twinge to Rob’s voice. Pleasure ran up Lamar’s spine, so intense it made Lamar shudder and shake.
A torrent of cum flooded Rob’s ass. It came in thick waves, great gobs of cum flowing into him. Lamar groaned as he spewed more and more, laughing at himself and at Rob — was this a normal amount? He thought he might just be surprised because he was with a man, and it wasn’t really a normal sensation for him.
The cum just kept on coming, and it filled up Rob’s hole. It dripped out the sides of his ass, coating Lamar’s cock and dripping in gobs onto the floor.
Just when Lamar thought he was done, Rob shuddered. That caused a couple things to happen all at once. First, an intense orgasmic aftershock hit Lamar. Second, the motion made a great clump of cum plop out and into Lamar’s hairy crotch. Third, the sight of that happening made Lamar gag. So all at once, Lamar both experienced a second mini-climax and was overcome with such physical disgust that he retched.
And all that combined to make him laugh. Lamar always laughed at things that made him uncomfortable. He gingerly removed his rapidly limpening cock, and the sight of it covered in pearly white cum made him gag again.
“Yo, I gotta get a picture fo’ Killer,” Lamar said, his discomfort totally gone now. He grabbed his phone and snapped a photo of his cock, which was white with the semen that still soaked into it. He sent the photo to Killer with the caption, ‘this is what I looked like after sloppy-fifths. That’s yo’ nasty all over my dick, nigga’.
He stood up and ignored Rob, who laid there with his ass in the air, exulting in his own post-orgasmic pleasure. Lamar wandered off towards the bathroom, watching his gigantic dick throb and shake as it limpened.
“Gonna take a shower, honky,” Lamar said. “Don’t forget to buy Netflix.”
“Okay,” Rob said, his voice weak and breathless.
Lamar sauntered into the shower, already dialing his parole officer to make excuses for being late. He wasn’t late yet, but Lamar assumed he probably would be.
Besides, he thought as he stepped into the shower, there was a black slut who lived near the parole office. He could stop by and see her beforehand, get his dick wet in a real pussy and probably smoke a blunt. She usually had weed.
‘Oh, that reminds me! I should’ve asked for that!’ Lamar poked his head out the bathroom door, just before he stepped in the shower. “Yo, honky, leave some money on the counter for me. Like eighty bucks. I wanna buy some weed too.”
“Okay!” Rob said. He smiled as he put the cash out for Lamar and fired up his long-canceled Netflix account.

The Barbershop

Desmond becomes an unlikely hero when he saves the day at the barbershop he works in, and he gets a reward he never dreamed of — he gets his choice of men! He chooses his boss, a big burly man who would never bend over and take it… or would he?!

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Or read the whole thing here!

When the tall Jamaican thug walked into the Cityside Barbershop, Desmond wasn’t interested at first. He seemed like nothing more than another customer. A part of Desmond’s mind realized that the man had long, thick and unkempt dreadlocks — he obviously wasn’t here for a haircut.
But Desmond was deep in to an anecdote, talking to a handsome young man named Lamar as he finished giving Lamar a haircut. Desmond thought that if he played his cards right, he might be able to jerk Lamar off after the haircut.
And then it all changed — the Jamaican man pulled out his gun. He pointed it at Isaiah, the barber who was standing at the register at that moment. Isaiah yelped but did as he was told, taking all the money from the drawer and putting it in a bag. Desmond wanted to scream; he was so close that he could see the sweat beading on the Jamaican’s neck, and he could have reached out to pull on those dreadlocks.
The Jamaican got the money. It all only took a few seconds. He turned to flee out the door, put the gun in the waistband of his pants and ran. Desmond reacted without a second thought. He stuck his foot out.
He tripped the Jamaican man as he fled across the threshold. There was a loud splat as the Jamaican landed face-first on the concrete, dreadlocks akimbo. His jaw shattered, and he spent the next nine months in the hospital. He was still there when he was convicted of armed robbery. Rupert Alan was his name. It was all instinct. Desmond gave it literally no thought. He saw the possibility of tripping the man and did it without considering whether it would work or backfire — a lot could have gone wrong. Rupert could have avoided the trip and shot Desmond in anger, he could have dropped the gun and it went off, he could have gone on a shooting spree. If Desmond had thought about it, he wouldn’t have done it.
But he didn’t think about it, and he did do it, and that was how Desmond became an unlikely hero for the Cityside Barbershop, when all he wanted in the crucial moment was to swing on Lamar’s big fat dick (which he didn’t end up getting to do because the cops showed up and put a damper on the excitement). The whole thing happened so fast.
The other barbers treated him like a champion, especially Isaiah, but the one who was most appreciative was Johnny Cee. Johnny Cee owned this location of the Cityside Barbershop, so he was the one who had the most to lose if Rupert Alan made away with the day’s take.
“You really saved my hide, Desmond, damn,” Johnny Cee said over and over when he showed up an hour later. “Damn… My fuckin’ business insurance lapsed this month. Havin’ cash flow problems. If I’d got robbed, I’d have lost the shop for sure. No way I would have been able to keep goin’. How can I repay you, my man?”
But Desmond didn’t know how he could be repaid (aside from the obvious, money, which Johnny Cee said he simply couldn’t afford), nor did he even especially want it. He was happy to be treated like a celebrity all night. The others bought him drinks and clapped him on the back until they all stumbled home in the darkness of night.
When Desmond showed up for his shift the next morning, however, he was surprised to find the entire chain there, even Isaiah, who was supposed to be off today. They clapped and hooted when Desmond walked in.
He blushed and lowered his eyes. He liked being the center of attention, but this was becoming ridiculous. Then Johnny Cee stepped forward and cleared his throat. He stammered as he waited for the others to quiet down.
“Uh, hey… Desmond, I uh… I was talkin’ to the guys, and y’know, I can’t pay you a bonus, not even a dime. I’m sorry about that,” he said. “But I was wonderin’… I’d like to give you something. So, uh, as yo’ reward, I was gonna say… if you want… you can pick a nigga, and he gonna… you know… do whatever, even… you know, take some dick… or… y’know, on the bottom.” He looked relieved to have finally gotten that out.
All barbers looked at him like they were awaiting news on which of them had cancer. Desmond giggled and blushed. “So, I get to pick one of you, and you’ll jerk me off, take it in the ass, everything?”
They all nodded, and Desmond’s giggle turned into a cackle. They were treating this like such a serious offer, like they were choosing who had to take the fall and go to prison for a crime they had all committed.
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Desmond said grandly, raising his arms in a long, low sweeping motion. “Johnny Cee, I thank you for your kind offer. And I choose you.” He didn’t even have to think about it. He loved older daddies like Johnny Cee, whose beard was tinged with exactly two strands of gray. He had a deliciously thick body, with just the right amount of meat in just the right places. Johnny Cee was also the only one here who had never gotten dome from Desmond on the downlow.
Johnny Cee made this offer assuming Desmond would pick one of the young handsome muscle-boys with dimples. But Desmond had tasted their meats already. What he wanted was Johnny Cee himself.
Everyone else whooped and hollered. Johnny Cee chortled. “Damn… I thought you’d pick someone younger, nigga.” He lowered his eyes, avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze.
Desmond laughed and took Johnny Cee by the hand, then gestured for him to lead the way into the backroom. He did so, and as Desmond followed he squealed with a leering grin aimed at the other barbers.
The sound of clapping only died out when the door swung shut behind Desmond. He followed Johnny Cee through the darkened supply area to a small spot with a chair and a bit of carpet. This was where Desmond plied his trade. There used to be porn magazines around, but Johnny Cee had made Desmond throw them away. They made it look unprofessional, he had said, though now he looked rather like he had regretted that decision.
Johnny Cee dropped to his knees as Desmond sat down. Johnny Cee sighed and smiled. “Damn, boy, you smell like a girl. Thanks fo’ that, it does help. You smell like a stripper.”
Desmond grinned. He wore women’s perfume to work for precisely that effect. Johnny Cee had to awkwardly stoop, he was simply too tall to bend right over Desmond’s lap and be able to take his dick in his mouth. Desmond felt a surge of guilt as he saw Johnny Cee’s face — he looked like he had just eaten an extra-sour pickle, and he hadn’t even tasted dick yet, he just undid Desmond’s pants and pulled them down. Desmond awkward lifted his hips to give him space to work on his pants. Johnny Cee averted his eyes when Desmond’s big brown dick flopped out. It looked like he had hoped that Desmond’s little twink body came with a little bitty dick, which was far from the truth.
“You know… you ain’t really gotta do this,” Desmond said. “Just lemme jerk you off. That’s all the thanks I need. I been wantin’ to taste your meat since I started here, nigga.”
“I know. I seen the way you look at me,” he said with a growl — he didn’t like it when Desmond used the n-word. Desmond blushed. “But I don’t mind. I gotta show my appreciation. You really saved my bacon.”
“Aw, your bacon is sexy, Johnny Cee. I’ll always save it.”
“This ain’t the first time I done this. Don’t tell the others.” He nodded to the front room, where nervous laughter could be heard — they were no doubt whispering about what Johnny Cee was doing in here. Johnny Cee took a deep breath. “I… Before I got married, me and my buddy Mando used to trade dome on the downlow.”
“Really? Mando Ray?” Desmond had trouble picturing that.
“This was befo’ Mando got real fat.”
“It’d pretty much have to be,” Desmond said.
Johnny Cee nodded, opened his mouth, scrunched up his nose and swallowed Desmond’s dick in one smooth motion. The smoothness only lasted a moment though, because he was overwhelmed by gagging when Desmond’s shaft penetrated the back of Johnny Cee’s throat.
“Swallow it, Johnny Cee!”
“Make him your bitch, Desmond! Fist him!”
It sounded like they were laughing so hard they were crying. There was more catcalling going on, but most of it was drowned out by a torrent of laughter and jeers. Johnny Cee often badmouthed them — reminding them of their religious obligations, mainly — when they were back here receiving dome, so it sounded like they all wanted to return the favor now.
“I’m tellin’ Reverend Chandler! He gonna punish the fuck outta you, Johnny Cee!”
“Maybe Reverend Chandler will go up your behind next! He could ram the repentance into ya!”
Johnny Cee tried to pretend it wasn’t bothering him, like he barely noticed it at all. His eyes were downcast and dark as he pushed his head up and down on Desmond’s shaft. His mouth was warm and wet, and it sent a shiver of desire through Desmond’s body. The whole situation was such a surprise that Desmond didn’t get hard right away, as though his body had forgotten how to react in all the confusion.
But as Johnny Cee’s tongue began stroking up and down Desmond’s shaft, he fell into the old groove again — he had been a bottom for a long time, and Desmond hadn’t received dome in nearly six months. He had never received dome from a big burly daddy-bear like Johnny Cee.
His hands roamed onto the back of Johnny Cee’s head. He had thick, kinky black hairs that were cut short, which was unfortunate, Desmond thought, as he would have liked to hold on as Johnny Cee got more and more into it. He gradually stopped gagging, though he never lost that sour-lemon look on his face. Then Desmond’s hands explored lower, sneaking under Johnny Cee’s shirt and caressing his rippling back-flesh.
“Can you take off your shirt?” Desmond asked, feeling uncertain that Johnny Cee would do it. Maybe that would seem too weird? Almost romantic? He wasn’t sure. Alphas had such weird rules about this sort of thing. But, Desmond thought with a sigh, that was part of what he loved about them.
“You feel spermies tryin’-a impregnate yo’ rectum, Johnny Cee? Hope you’s on the pill!”
Johnny Cee lifted his head and frowned as he unbuttoned his shirt, removed it and lifted his wifebeater over his head. He had a strong, thick-muscled body with a hairy barrel-shaped chest, his thick arms jiggling as he paused with his shirts in his hand. He had just one tattoo, the Lord’s Prayer in flowing script on his right bicep. He said a brief prayer, then leaned forward and kissed Desmond on the lips.
Desmond was so shocked he didn’t kiss back at first. That was one of the rules that most niggas at the Cityside Barbershop never broke — no kissing. They might even lick Desmond’s ass to lube it up, jack him off as a favor, taste his cum by accident, touch dicks with a nigga during a gangbang, maybe even let someone finger his ass while he was knee-deep in some pussy.
But none of them would kiss a man, except, it seemed, for Johnny Cee. His burly body pressed heavily down on Desmond’s thin chest as they made out, Desmond wrapping his arms around Johnny Cee’s body and clinging on.
They stopped only when Johnny Cee’s cell phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and growled in frustration, and the men in the frontroom burst into laughter again — obviously, they had sent him a teasing message.
“Whatchoo think, Johnny Cee? I know a pimp who’d treat you right!”
Desmond wanted to ask what it said, but before he could, Johnny Cee kissed him again. His grizzled chin was rough and scratchy, his tongue awkwardly flailing about. It was a weird kiss, Desmond thought, especially since he was so much smaller than Johnny Cee — it felt like he was a child again, being kissed by a giant, like Johnny Cee could open his mouth wider at any moment and swallow Desmond whole.
Then Johnny Cee undid his pants, let them fall and dropped his shorts as well. His heavy dick was thick, juicy, and not totally limp, which made Desmond giggle: Johnny Cee was more aroused by this than he let on.
Desmond stroked Johnny Cee to full erection as they kissed, and then Desmond licked his way down to Johnny Cee’s pecs. He looked like he had probably had a six-pack and a mountainous chest when he was younger, but now there was a perfectly thick layer of flesh atop his body, which hadn’t lost a lick of power since then. That was just the way Desmond liked it. He liked the massive meat of Johnny Cee’s middle-aged frame, and he enjoyed the way it nervously quivered as Johnny Cee got more and more into it.
Every fiber of Desmond’s body said he should start jerking Johnny Cee off, but Desmond didn’t want to, even though his dick was hard as steel and already oozing precum into Desmond’s fingers. This was an opportunity that wouldn’t likely happen again, and Desmond wasn’t going to squander it.
“Alright, be gentle,” Johnny Cee said. He sighed and turned around, his pants still around his ankles so he had to shuffle awkwardly. He bent over like a prisoner submitting to his cellmate: he put his hands on the floor and stuck his ass in the air.
Desmond giggled. “You greatly overestimate my height, Johnny Cee,” he said. Johnny Cee’s ass towered above Desmond’s head where he sat in the chair.
“Oh yeah,” he said with a grunt. “Mando was taller than me.” He lowered his ass slowly, yelping in surprise when Desmond’s fingers gripped those big hairy orbs. He grinned at Johnny Cee’s reaction. Johnny Cee winced and turned his head to face Desmond. “Yo’ fingers are cold, man.”
Desmond clucked like a mother hen. “Sorry, baby, lemme warm ‘em up.” He breathed on his fingers, then caressed Johnny Cee’s asscrack. Johnny Cee shuddered and stopped moving, his back flat and ass right at the level of the chair in which Desmond said.
“Make his ass bleed, Desmond! If you ram him hard enough, he’ll learn to love it!:
His skin was marked with hair and rough spots, which Desmond loved. He kissed both asscheeks and spat into the dark, funky hole. Then he dove his head in to get it loosened up.
The taste was musty and masculine, dripping with salty sweat and the flavor of coconut oil-scented soap. It was a decidedly feminine kind of soap, Desmond thought, no doubt chosen by Johnny Cee’s wife. His tongue plunged in to that tight, dark hole and explored it as Johnny Cee stiffened his entire body in response.
A loud, foundation-shaking moan escaped from Johnny Cee’s lips. He cut it off when he realized the niggas in the frontroom could hear and were guffawing as though they had never heard anything like that (which was very possibly true — Desmond had never heard that kind of moan either). Johnny Cee’s asshole bloomed, loosened and opened up all at once, while his dick spasmed and leaked precum even with no one touching it.
Then Desmond stood, ready to begin the actual ramrodding. Johnny Cee breathed fast, tense, and hung his head low. Desmond couldn’t believe this was happening, and he kept thinking that Johnny Cee was going to back out. He stood on the chair, looking over Johnny Cee’s broad, rippling back.
“Uh… damn…” Desmond said. “I, uh, I don’t know how to do this.”
“Well you’re the expert. Don’t ask me for help,” Johnny Cee snapped.
“I know, I know. It’s just you so big. Normally I’d give you a reacharound but I don’t even know if I can reach,” Desmond said.
“Don’t worry about that. Once you get into me, I ain’t gonna have a boner no more,” Johnny Cee said. His voice sounded clipped and annoyed.
Desmond didn’t think that was true, but he wasn’t about to argue. He decided to just go for it. He kneeled on the edge of the chair and wedged his dick between Johnny Cee’s asscheeks, which he pulled apart with both hands.
As soon as his dick entered him, Johnny Cee grunted, bit his lip and threw his head back. Desmond lightly caressed his meaty back muscles, or at least the lower third of his back, which was all Desmond could reach.
He tried to gyrate his hips, but with himself sitting on the chair and Johnny Cee lowering his ass onto him, that wasn’t too easy to do. His dick couldn’t move much in this position. That didn’t detract from the intense pleasure he felt as Johnny Cee’s tight asshole clenched around his dick. A wave of exquisite sensations rollicked through Desmond’s petite frame.
“Did you and Mando ever share any ass?” Desmond asked, his voice tight because he had a behemoth riding his cock.
Johnny Cee shook his head but didn’t answer. He groaned and sighed. Desmond suspected that meant the answer was: not in any way that counts, meaning we did it when we was drunk, stoned, in prison or homeless, or some combination thereof. Johnny Cee’s ass pinched and flexed as he struggled to take all of Desmond’s dick.
When it became clear that it wasn’t going to work like this, Desmond used the chair for leverage. He thought he’d ride Johnny Cee to the ground and just hump him there on the floor, but that wasn’t what happened — Johnny Cee easily supported Desmond’s weight.
So Desmond clutched his thick back and held on as he began working his dick in and out. He was completely off the chair, riding Johnny Cee like a piggy-back ride, just lower down on Johnny Cee’s back. He stayed bent over, on his hands and feet with his ass still high in the air.
Johnny Cee was so tall that he seemed to take up an impossible amount of room, filling the tiny space Desmond had set aside for jerking off horny men. He had never thought he’d use this space to top anyone.
As Desmond humped, Johnny Cee bit his lip to avoid crying out. The men in the front room were quiet now except for a few scattered giggles. Desmond had been back here often enough to know what that meant — they were listening at the door but not talking about what they heard, probably because there was a child in the shop. It was just past nine, after all, so the Cityside Barbershop was open now.
Johnny Cee staggered and bumped into a shelf, nearly knocking it over. A box full of unsold doo rags fell onto Desmond and scattered over the floor. Johnny Cee was breathing heavy, having trouble supporting himself not because Desmond was so heavy but because Johnny Cee was jacking himself off as he took it up the ass, which meant he only used one hand to support his body now.
That suggested that he was hard. Desmond wanted to point out that Johnny Cee’s prediction was proven incorrect, as he had known it would be, but his own pleasure was too intense to stop. The more he humped, the more frenzied was Johnny Cee’s reaction.
“Damn, get it in me, man…” Johnny Cee said softly. He grunted and heaved, stumbling throughout the room and bumping into the walls head-first. The emotions galloping across his tense face were equal parts agony, pride, humiliation and jaw-dropping bliss. Johnny Cee’s entire body reacted to each thrust of Desmond’s dick inside him, tension rolling up and down his flesh from head to toe and back again. His face, when he looked behind himself so Desmond could see it, was ruddy and covered with sweat, eyes bugging out of their sockets.
When Johnny Cee clenched hard on Desmond’s dick, Desmond didn’t know why. He just knew it sent a crescendo of pleasure up his spine, and Desmond grunted so loud the sound overpowered Johnny Cee’s reactions for a moment. But then it was clear why Johnny Cee had clenched down — he was cumming.
That much was a surprise. Desmond knew that most men would get hard when being rammed, simply due to prostate stimulation, that was why Desmond had disbelieved Johnny Cee’s prediction that he’d remain soft. But he was shocked that Johnny Cee had managed to cum while Desmond still pounded his ass.
“Aw, fuck yeah, nigga…”
But there was no mistaking the cummy smell that filled the area, and the intense moan that came from Johnny Cee’s throat. Someone applauded outside the room, leading to another burst of laughter. Johnny Cee tried to cover up his pleasurable groaning with a cough, but his coughing spasm sent a shiver of pain up his spine as it made Desmond’s dick grind even deeper into his ass.
That was it for Desmond, who couldn’t hold back anymore. He dug his nails into the flesh of Johnny Cee’s back while an intense orgasm rocketed through his body. It grew in waves, each successive outpouring of pleasure more incredible than the last. With his face buried in the meaty middle of Johnny Cee’s back, Desmond felt like he was ensconced in masculine flesh in a way he hadn’t felt even when being rammed all over by big men in the past. For a moment, he and Johnny Cee might as well have been one person.
Desmond yelped and squirmed atop Johnny Cee’s body, and he even bit at the flesh of his back when the intensity of his climax was too overwhelming for Desmond to accept. Johnny Cee didn’t even seem to notice the bite.
At long last it was over. Johnny Cee was perfectly still now, stooped over so his back was flat. He breathed heavily, waiting for Desmond to finish. Desmond was still too exhausted to react, so he remained there as his dick softened inside Johnny Cee’s ass. He tightly gripped Johnny Cee’s body, which he still clung to like a small adult riding a giant stallion. Johnny Cee cleared his throat, but Desmond still remained right there.
Then Desmond let go of his back, which made Johnny Cee let out a sigh of relief. That sigh accelerated as Desmond slid down and his cock finally plopped out of Johnny Cee’s ass. Desmond’s face rubbed up against the burly man’s lower back and his cum-dripping asscheeks until he finally landed on the ground on his feet. He nearly fell as his orgasm had weakened his knees, but Desmond managed to remain upright.
Johnny Cee turned around and winced. He kissed Desmond on the lips, and their tongues awkwardly interlocked once again — Johnny Cee’s massive tongue overfilling Desmond’s mouth, in which it barely fit. Then Johnny Cee pulled off and smiled bashfully.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. You’ve got a nice ass, Johnny Cee.”
“Yeah, well… Thanks, for that, and for, uh… y’know, saving the shop,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Desmond said with a gasp and a shudder. They both got dressed. When they were done, Johnny Cee took a deep breath.
“So, y’know, I’m gonna tell them niggas that you go hard but it ain’t hurt too much. I ain’t gonna tell ‘em… y’know… that I jacked off too.”
“Okay,” Desmond said, sighing and smiling at Johnny Cee’s nervous stammering. “No one ever has to know you enjoyed bottoming. Your secret is safe with me.”

Thumper & His Prettyboy Cellmate: Ch. 1

Chapter One

When the guard said Lamar’s cellmate was a man named ‘Wendell White’, Lamar Casper was relieved — he sounded like an accountant done up on embezzlement charges. That has gotta be some prissy whiteboi he could control.
So Lamar’s jaw dropped when he stepped into the tiny cell and saw Thumper, as Wendell White preferred to be known. He was a burly man in his mid-forties, maybe fifties, with a powerhouse body and a towering frame, no longer perfectly carved but still bristling with strength underneath inked, callused skin. He looked at Lamar and gave him a slim-eye nod.
“You got the top bunk, youngblood,” was all he said, his voice deep and rumbling like a distant volcano. He returned to the Bible study book he was reading.
Lamar moved his stuff onto the shelf beside his bunk and silently laid down. Not wanting to attract attention on his first day, Lamar simply stared at the ceiling and kept a tough mien on his face. He knew he was gonna get dubbed a prettyboy in this place, so Lamar had gotta look as rough as he could manage.
Thumper began a series of push-ups, loudly, no doubt hoping to bring Lamar’s attention to how much bigger and stronger he was than him. Lamar knew how prison worked, and Lamar was more than prepared to defend himself. You don’t gotta be huge to show a nigga you mean business. Thumper had the thick barrel-shaped body of a boxer, which Lamar later learned he was decades ago, before coming to prison. His great muscles shifted with every thrust of his chest up and down.
He stood up and faced Lamar, his chest heaving and beaded with sweat. “You get dirty or what?”
“No. What? No…” Lamar said. He was unsure what Thumper meant by ‘get dirty’, but he knew the answer was no.
Thumper frowned like a turtle and nodded. “Okay.”
“Just in case you thinkin’ about messin’ wit’ me, don’t,” Lamar said, “I can take carea myself.”
Thumper stood up on a sarcastic ‘impressed’ face and said, “Well, good for you, youngblood. That’s a good skill to have. But I don’t ram niggas. Maybe an occasional whiteboi, but that’s it. I’m too old for that shit, holding down some squirming bitch, nigga, that ain’t me.”
“Good.”
“Young pretty buck like you, betcha considerin’ it,” Thumper said. He slapped Lamar’s ass beneath his prison uniform pants, then let his hand rest there. He squeezed one cheek affectionately. “You gonna ram some whiteboi sooner or later.”
“No, I won’t,” Lamar said. “I saw you readin’ that Bible. Ain’t nothin’ ’bout ramming whitebois in there.”
“The Lord forgives, youngblood. That’s what makes Him great,” Thumper said. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer. Lamar rolled over, not liking the feeling of Thumper’s hand resting on his ass. Lamar knew men in prison tended to grow accustomed to physical contact, but that was too much for him. Thumper’s hand fell on the bed in front of Lamar, so if Lamar laid back down on his belly, Thumper’d be groping Lamar’s cock. Thumper leaned in close to speak to him and laid his other arm on the bed, so he now took up most of the mattress with his arms, while Lamar was pressed against the wall to avoid touching him. “You rollin’ with somebody?” he asked.
“I’m from California,” Lamar said, “I don’t roll with no one in Baltimore. But I in the Bloods out there.”
His hands snaked up Lamar’s shirt, lifting it to check for gang tattoos. Thumper nodded his approval at the claret B above Lamar’s heart. “Come down here and do some pushups,” Thumper said, “If you gonna be in my organization, you gotta be in shape. Ain’t useful to me as a skinny nigga.”
Lamar got off the bed and removed his shirt. He been playing basketball for years and was more than strong enough, Lamar thought,and he made his pecs bounce. He thought that’d impress Thumper, cuz Lamar was stacked, he looked skinny, people thoughta him as a skinny prettyboy. But Lamar Casper was something. He got meat. Thumper groped him again, feeling Lamar’s meat, his biceps, triceps, lats and pecs.
“Hey,” Lamar said, “You gotta be touchin’ me all the time, nigga?”
“Yes, I do,” he said, “Now gimme fitty, youngblood. You do that three times a day from now on. Before e’rry meal, you do fitty pushups. We’ll add more later, that’s a start.”
“I know how to work out, nigga,” Lamar said. “I ain’t yo’ bitch.”
He stared him down. “I run this organization,” he said, “So unless you wanna be cast out, you gonna have to realize you work for me. You ain’t a bitch… that is a correct ‘stimation of the current sit’ation. I give all my niggas they workout routines. You can’t trust a nigga to do it right. They all dumb in the head, need someone to tell ’em what to do. I know how to train a nigga into a good Blood.” He stepped closer and closer to Lamar and wrapped his arms around Lamar’s waist as though they were about to slow dance. His hands ran up and down Lamar’s torso. “If you don’t let me use this body the way I want, I will find a different way to use it.”
Lamar gulped and stayed quiet. He couldn’t speak without stammering, which would make him look weak, so he kept his mouth shut. Thumper stepped even closer, until they were virtually kissing. Lamar felt Thumper’s cock inside his prison pants, pressing against Lamar’s thigh. It was like a flashlight, one of those big suckers, a D cell flashlight.
“So get down and gimme fitty,” he whispered, so close Lamar could taste the spittle flying off his tongue with each word. “A guard gonna come get us for dinner soon. I told you to do fitty push-ups befo’ then, so if that guard gets here before you done, there gonna be consequences.”
Lamar thought Thumper was going to back away so he could get out from the wall and follow his instructions, but he stood right there. Lamar couldn’t easily move. Lamar finna protest but Thumper threw his eyebrows back. Lamar took a deep breath, inhaling Thumper’s zest, sweat and funk, then tried to squeeze out from afronta him. Thumper gently touched Lamar’s back and belly with his roaming hands but made no effort to stop him from moving. His sweat stuck to Lamar’s shirt, which Lamar took off when he was free.
Lamar wasn’t weak, but he wasn’t sure he could do fifty push-ups, especially not with his hands shaking. He got down and began, hoping his counting-off voice sounded more confident than he felt.
“One. Two. Thr-.”
“Hmm, hmm. Good.” Thumper knelt down near Lamar’s feet, giving him encouragement like a coach. He slapped Lamar’s ass, watching them juicy cheeks jiggle, and Lamar felt Thumper’s cock and balls, dangling beneath his shorts, resting on Lamar’s ankle. Lamar looked back to him, instinctively wanting to protest, but he didn’t. Thumper didn’t seem to notice that Lamar had paused, he was focused on the jiggle of Lamar’s cheeks.
Lamar tried to get the feel of Thumper’s balls on his ankle outta his head and focus on doing the push-ups. Lamar was so terrified that the adrenaline helped him along, but still when he got to forty-two, he collapsed, out-of-breath.
“I can hear that guard comin’, nigga,” he said, pulling down Lamar’s sweatshorts and drawers. “He comin’ closer. You got eight more to do.” He rested his hand on Lamar’s asscheeks and pushed one finger between Lamar’s crack. He let it rest on the surface of Lamar’s asshole, only the thin fabric of Lamar’s prison pants preventing him from penetrating him.
Lamar jumped back into action and did five more without thinking about it, then slowly, wobbly armed and dripping with sweat, Lamar made it through the last couple of push-ups.
He straddled Lamar’s hips, so Lamar could feel Thumper’s heavy thick cock pressing against his asscheeks. He leaned over Lamar’s back, almost laying on top of him. “I know I said I don’t ram niggas, but I do love to make a nigga an exception. So don’t gimme no reason, nigga. Don’t e’er question me again.”

Thumper & His Prettyboy Cellmate: Ch. 2

Chapter Two

Thumper was bossy and mean but not violent, so Lamar couldn’t complain too much. Lamar did hate how touchy he was, but he felt better once he saw that Thumper was just as touchy with the other inmates. Thumper had been behind bars so long he was desperate for a little human contact, no matter where it came from, that was Lamar’s conclusion.
At breakfast one night, Lamar saw him wrap one arm around the waist of the man sitting next to him, a Blood named Ruck. As they ate, Ruck straightened his back awkwardly. Lamar saw outta the corner of his eye that Thumper, who continued telling a story about the cop that arrested him, slipped his hand down Ruck’s back and rested his finger inside Ruck’s asscrack. Ruck was a buff bullish nigga whose muscles tightened beneath Thumper’s grasp. His nostrils flared and his eyes darted around like a panicked animal.
When Thumper told Lamar to sit by him the next morning, Lamar dreaded knowing that his finger would likely do the same to him. Lamar was proven correct — it was apparently what he did to whichever nigga sat to his right during a meal. As soon as he finished eating, he put his hand on the small of Lamar’s back and dropped his finger between Lamar’s cheeks. His fingertip rested maybe an inch above Lamar’s butthole.
The other Bloods at the table made eye contact with Lamar, but no one said anything.
When the bell rang to signify the end of breakfast, everyone else stood. Lamar hesitated because Thumper did, and Lamar wasn’t sure Thumper would be okay with him just shoving away from his hand. In the hubbub, Thumper jabbed his finger into Lamar’s ass momentarily. A burst of pain ran up Lamar’s backside.
Lamar yelped, then fell silent and looked away from the smirking Bloods. Thumper clasped Lamar’s shoulder with his ass-stinked middle finger and used him for leverage as he stood. Lamar chose not to make a big deal outta it. It was better just to move on with his day.
When Lamar got back to the cell that night, he was late, having been processed at his prison job all day. Thumper waited for him in his boxers, a big grin on his face.
“I got a surprise tonight, something to welcome you in,” he said. “It should be here any minute. Gimme yo’ routine, nigga.”
Lamar got down on the ground and gave him fifty push-ups, which Lamar got through only because Thumper’s shouted encouragement outweighed the ache in Lamar’s sore shoulders.
Officer Crabgut arrived a few minutes after Lamar finished. He was a mean white man with wide shoulders and a perpetual sneer standing at the doorway in front of a slim Latino with a trembling frown. Crabgut shoved him in.
“You got fifteen minutes,” Crabgut said, “And don’t do nothing that’ll require a visit to the infirmary.” Crabgut closed the door.
The Latin boy shook and clasped his arms across his chest. Thumper approached him and clicked his tongue against his teeth. He placed that stinky middle finger of his right hand on the Latin boy’s mouth. “Sssh,” Thumper said quietly, “What’s your name, boy?”
“Navarone,” he said. He had a lilting Cuban accent.
“Tha’ss right,” Thumper said, “You a snitch, aincha? That’s why Sucio turned you out.”
“I’m not a snitch!”
“Sucio said you was,” Thumper said. He raised his eyebrows like a dubious schoolteacher.
“But I’m not. I didn’t snitch!” he said.
“That’s exactly what snitches usually say,” Thumper said. He looked at him. “Go on. I paid for anal for both us. He got good ass, I ‘xpect. Only started getting plowed a few weeks ago.” He pulled down Navarone’s orange prison pants and slapped his ass. “Yeah, this is nice ass. Like that, nigga! I like that!”
“I dunno,” Lamar said. He ain’t never ramrod a nigga, and he wasn’t expecting to start his first day in prison. He was only gonna be here seven months. “I don’t really need to bust a nut. I could sit this one out.”
“Nonsense,” Thumper said. “I done paid for it.” He smacked Navarone in the backa the head as he bared his cock and slapped it onto Navarone’s trembling asscheeks. “Swallow his dick, bitch.”
Kneeling with a sour look on his face, Navarone pulled down Lamar’s pants and took his dick into his mouth in one smooth motion, keeping eye contact with Thumper. He tentatively licked it, but Thumper pushed his head down deeper. He gagged as Lamar’s cockhead hit the backa his throat.
“Deepthroat it, bitch,” Thumper murmured.
Lamar’s eyes bugged out as his dick firmed up in Navarone’s mouth, much easier than Lamar was expecting. This did not feel erotic to him. It did feel kinda good, but the pleasure seemed very distant. Lamar’s mind remained focused on what Thumper was doing with his hands.
What Thumper was doing with his hands at that point, in fact, was making Navarone spread his asscheeks. Thumper lined himself up behind Navarone. Then, without missing a beat, Thumper slipped his half-erect cock into Navarone’s ass. Navarone grunted in pain around Lamar’s shaft in his mouth.
His cock was only part-hard and ropy still, and Thumper hadta move it around and grumble some before it firmed up enough to really get to ramming. Once he could though, he did, and Lamar couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. Thumper worked his dick deeper inch by inch. He grabbed ahold of Navarone’s hair and placed one hand on the small of his back to keep him in position.
His squirming and choked sputtering made Lamar’s dick lose part of his erection — Navarone’s gagging and pained cries were revolting to him — until Lamar realized Thumper was looking at him like something was wrong with him. Lamar didn’t want to get a reputation as a man who can’t perform.
And it did feel good! It did! It was just hard to enjoy it. Lamar wasn’t horny before this started, or even after. He wanted to get this over with.
Closing his eyes, Lamar pictured his last girlfriend, a dark-haired white girl with a nice ass and huge tits. Lamar played with those tits for hours, and Lamar could almost feel their phantom fleshiness beneath his fingers.
With his eyes closed, it sorta worked. That white girl gave shitty blowjobs, and Navarone did the same. Navarone was more focused on the pain in his ass, that was why. But Lamar got into it enough to fuck Navarone’s throat, and spasms of pleasure struck throughout his body.
Thumper let his cock plop out of Navarone’s ass. His erection throbbed and dripped with precum and the hog fat he used as lube. He chuckled at Navarone’s exaggerated sigh of relief, then moved over to stand next to him.
“What are you doing?”
“Come on, I wanna nut in his mouth,” Thumper said, “Ass to mouth is great. We’ll wreck his throat together. Sucio said he can take anything down his gullet.”
Thumper took Lamar’s now relimpened cock in his hand and frotted it against his own dick, which was slimy with Navarone’s assjuice. He jacked both cocks off together and pushed them both into Navarone’s tremulous mouth. Lamar was horrified at sight of Thumper manhandling his dick, and he sucked in his breath, hands fluttering uselessly in the air. His and Thumper’s cocks smushed together, Thumper’s a long thick hard shaft that was pulsating hot and glistening with moisture, Lamar’s noticeably thinner and fleshier, only half-hard. Navarone opened his mouth as wide as he could, but only their cockheads fit inside.
“Use that tongue, bitch,” Thumper said, “Get all up on my shit, yeah, like that.”
Navarone’s tongue delicately lapped at Thumper’s cockhead, wincing at the saltiness of precum and the foulness of hog fat, not to mention his own asshole. Then Thumper smacked him in the back of the head, loud enough for Officer Crabgut to poke his head back inside the cell.
“Five minutes, gentlemen,” he said, “Then I gotta take the bitch back.” He stayed to watch with a wry smile as Thumper orgasmed without warning, as though he was waiting to make sure Crabgut could see. He moaned and leaned on Lamar for support.
Thumper came a vast burst of jizz, his semen sliding down Lamar’s cockshaft and coating Navarone’s face. Thumper’s muscles all flexed and rippled. Lamar was disgusted and thought he couldn’t cum, but Thumper looked at him like that was not an option.
“Go on, you better finish,” Thumper said, his voice now menacing. He ain’t take his dick away from Navarone’s mouth even now that it was limp
Lamar thought of that girl, his ex, desperately avoiding the feel of Thumper’s cum-slickened cock sliding against his and the stubble of Navarone’s facial hair on Lamar’s skin.The tension maybe made it easier to get hard though. Sex with women could be tense too, Lamar thought, and it did get his cock going.
Navarone finally got to slurping good on Lamar’s cock, while Thumper’s limpness bobbed around on his face. That sent a wave of pleasure through Lamar’s body. Thumper’s hands explored his chest and his back like he wanna feel that pleasure. Lamar sucked in his breath, closed his eyes and stood on his toes as he brought himself to the edge..
Finally Lamar shot a load, the orgasm almost painful. It was thin and watery, and it landed right on the center of Navarone’s tongue. He gagged and squealed, and Lamar breathed a sigh of relief, both from the orgasm and cuz Thumper wasn’t disappointed. He didn’t shoot as much as he was expecting, maybe because of the anxiety of the situation.
But then Thumper grabbed ahold of Lamar’s dick and stroked it casually, just a few quick pumps before he dropped it. Lamar’s dick was ultra-sensitive, so his touch sent a shiver of pain up his body.
Lamar squealed and stepped away. “Lay off me! What the fuck, nigga?” Lamar said. His heart dropped as Lamar said it because Thumper’s face screwed up in anger.
He shoved Lamar against the wall with all his heft. His chest pressed against his, his face millimeters from Lamar’s cheek. Lamar blanched, trying to show strength and confidence. Thumper’s moist cock was hot and heavy against Lamar’s thigh. He eyed him but didn’t say anything.
“Hey, you two have a lover’s squabble or what?” Crabgut said. Navarone waddled, bow-legged, out of the cell.
“That’s right, a lover’s squabble,” Thumper said, his limp dick smeared juices on Lamar’s hips. He kissed him on the cheek. “Nothing but a lover’s squabble.”

Thumper & His Prettyboy Cellmate: Ch. 3

Chapter Three

As Lamar grew accustomed to incarceration, things settled into a sort of cruel normalcy. The everyday humiliations of prison life became minor nuisances, and even the food seemed to taste better as memory of a better time faded from Lamar’s grasp.
The one thing Lamar couldn’t get used to was Thumper’s touching. Since he never hit him, the guards wouldn’t intervene, no matter how obvious it was Lamar wanted him to stop. None of the Bloods would back him up either, so Lamar had no choice but to submit and accept it as a part of his prison routine.
About a month into Lamar’s sentence, the air conditioning broke. Lamar begged Thumper to let them take a break from working out until it was fixed, but he looked at him like Lamar was crazy. “The Vasquenzas ain’t gonna stop. The Crips ain’t gonna stop. The Aryan Way ain’t gonna stop.” He continued naming every gang in this prison.
“Okay, okay, I just thought we might wanna keep the sweat down. It smells bad enough in here as it is,” Lamar said.
“Fuck you, nigga. You the stinky one, youngblood,” he said, “Go on, gimme some squat thrusts.”
As soon as Lamar got started, Thumper stripped off his shorts and boxers, so his cock dangled freely in front of him. He stood there watching Lamar and scratched his balls. Lamar knew better than to complain. Why does old nigga got hang his dong out all the time?
Despite the heat and the zesty aroma of old nigga sweat filling up the cell, Lamar managed no to complain as he finished his routine. When Thumper finally told him Lamar was done, Lamar sopped off his sweat with a towel and climbed up to his bed.
“Wait, nigga, come on down here,” he said, “I got somethin’ I been savin’ for a rainy day. Or a sweaty day, whatever.”
Thumper showed him a long, thin blunt. Lamar didn’t see where he had gotten it from, but he must have had it stashed somewhere in the cell. He grinned, and Lamar’s bitterness about his intimacy vanished. Lamar hadn’t gotten high since before his trial.
Lamar sat on the bed next to Thumper. His stark nudity was uncomfortable, but Lamar reminded himself that it was only barely different than the thin layer of fabric Lamar wore. Not really a big deal, Lamar told himself.
He lit the blunt with a strike-anywhere match, and they began passing it back and forth. As always, Thumper answered any questions about pre-prison life with vague handwaving and asked probing questions about him and who Lamar knew in the Bloods back in California.
The first haze in Lamar’s mind appeared. Lamar felt his eyes narrow to slits. In a way, Lamar was glad he hadn’t been able to smoke for a long time cuz it meant Lamar got baked even on Thumper’s tiny blunt.
“You always dodgin’ my questions, Thumper,” Lamar said, feeling bold. “Wuzzup wit’ dat?” Lamar laughed at himself, and Thumper joined in.
“You ain’t wanna know nothin’ ’bout ol’ Thumper,” he said, “I got nothin’ important out there in the real world. No career, no family, no friends. All that’s left of me is what’s in here.”
“Is it true you was a boxer?”
“Shit, I was the best boxer. The Chesapeake Champion,” he said, “Still am. But don’t ax no questions about that, nigga.” He took the roach and dropped it, still lit, in his mouth. He swallowed it and smiled at him. “Hey,” he said, “Gimme yo’ hand.”
Too stoned to think about it, Lamar just extended his hand to him. Thumper took it and caressed it, moving it slowly towards his crotch, Lamar realized he expected a handjob and his heart dropped.
“Hey, stop-“
“Shut yo’ mouth, Lamar,” Thumper said. He whispered, “Don’t you dare say no to me. You still ain’t my bitch. Nobody gotta know what happens in here. If you say no and I gotta force you into it, then you gonna be my bitch. And everybody gonna know that.”
Lamar stopped resisting and looked away from Thumper. He put Lamar’s hand on his dick, and Lamar awkwardly stroked it a few times.
Thumper said, “Come on, face me. Do this right.”
They both turned to face each other on his tiny bed. Thumper pulled Lamar by the legs closer to him, until their thighs were interlocking. He pulled Lamar’s dick outta the fly of his prison boxers.
“See? I ain’t a bad guy. This is a circlejerk, that’s all,” Thumper said. He spat on his hand and flogged Lamar’s dick until it got hard. His hands were softer than Lamar expected, though Lamar felt the calluses and thick muscles underneath his skin. He moved expertly but in a dispassionate way, like a farmer collecting semen from a stud.
Lamar was getting a rhythm on Thumper’s dick, which pulsated in his hands. It was disgusting and made him wish he could wear a glove. It was huge too, a foot long at least, thicker than any dick should be. It was slimy with precum in his grip.
Thumper shot a load with a deep groan that resonated in Lamar’s ear. Lamar hadn’t thought he was giving a good enough handjob for him to cum so quickly, but Thumper must have been horny. His wad spurted all over Lamar’s wrist and forearm. Lamar held his hand up like a mad scientist witnessing his creation, but he couldn’t reach anything except his own bedding to wipe off with.
Lamar gagged and tried to move, but Thumper told him to stay. He used both hands on Lamar’s dick, and Lamar had to admit it was the best handjob he ever had. Spasms of pleasure flew through Lamar’s body, despite his heart pounding and him holding his breath. Thumper moved in rhythm with Lamar’s body, and Lamar could almost forget what a hellhole he was trapped in.
Lamar came with a pained grunt, his load making a hot and stinking mess right in the center of Thumper’s waist. Lamar’s grunt turned into a moan as his whole body buckled, and jizz flew over Thumper’s torso.
When it was all over and Lamar’s dick was limp once more, Thumper wiped all that cum off with his hands, then wrapped his heavy arms around Lamar’s neck, smearing the cum across Lamar’s shoulders.
“There, there,” Thumper said, “That weren’t so bad, nigga, was it?”

Thumper & His Prettyboy Cellmate: Ch. 4

Chapter Four

As Lamar neared the halfway mark of his sentence, a prison riot led to an extended lockdown. Normally they’d be kept inside for a day, maybe two. But not this time. They ain’t let them out for a month, except for a shower every other week — and even that was each cell at a time, no talking allowed.
Luckily Thumper had a few more blunts. He only ever brought one out when Lamar wasn’t looking. He never showed him where he hid them, nor told him how many he had left, so Lamar steady thought they was smoking the last one. Then somehow a day or two later, he’d bring out another.
They smoked sitting on the floor, as they done got accustomed to, because the cement was cooler than the bunks. Thumper swallowed the roach, as he stay doing. Then he stood up, his cock dangling afront Lamar’s face. Lamar looked away.
“Yo, I ain’t gonna tell no one ’bout this, alright?” Thumper said.
“What? You mean the blunt? It don’t matter.”
“No, not the blunt. I ain’t been able to get a bitch in here in like two weeks,” Thumper said. “So you gonna have to fill in.”
“What?”
“I won’t tell no one. Just open yo’ mouth, nigga. It’ll be like it never happened.”
“Thumper, stop-…” Lamar shut up when Thumper clasped a hand over his mouth.
“What did I tell you about sayin’ no to me?”
A part of him wanted to fight no matter what, but Lamar’s brain overruled his heart. There was no way he’d win in a fight, and even if he survived, Thumper would just have him killed later. He’d be remembered as a traitor to his fellow Bloods. Thumper leggo, and Lamar opened his mouth.
Thumper looked down at him with sympathetic eyes and shook his pitying face. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You just showin’ respect for yo’ elder Bloods,” he said, “It used to be normal, y’know, to jerk older niggas off in jail. That’s just what you doin’.”
His cock slid into Lamar’s throat, rubbing past his tongue, which twisted in revulsion at the flavor. It tasted like pure, distilled sweat, Lamar thought, stale and rancid sweat. It pulsated like a living organism feeding off him. It rocketed right to full erection too, in a matter of seconds.
He moaned and said, “Okay, relax yo’ throat, nigga. You doin’ okay. I ain’t gonna beat yo’ ass, just keep on coop’atin’. Don’t give up nigga, and try not to gag so much. I don’t wanna feel like I’m ramroddin’ ya, y’know, you ain’t a snitch. You just showing respect like you should.”
As the precum flowed into Lamar’s mouth, Lamar cringed with his eyes. He then shut them, because Thumper’s gaze was too intense. Thumper gripped Lamar’s head and gently plowed his dick in and outta Lamar’s throat, clucking his tongue each time Lamar gagged. Lamar sensed how good it felt to Thumper. His cock throbbed and pulsated, and Lamar found his throat stretching to accommodate Thumper’s mighty meat.
“Hmm-hmm, love that dome, nigga…”
Thumper stopped talking just before his orgasm, giving Lamar enough time to fill with dread. The hot, sticky taste of precum filled Lamar’s mouth, and he wanted to scream. Both of Thumper’s hands were on Lamar’s scalp, massaging it as he worked his hips in a circle around Lamar’s face.
His cum was so thick and luxuriant it spilled out the corners of Lamar’s mouth. He was disgusted, unable to concentrate on Thumper’s words over the feeling of his contorting stomach. “Don’t spit that shit up, nigga, don’t disrespect me like that. Don’t pretend it’s the grossest thing in the world, nigga. It’s my body, show a little a respect. Swallow that shit.” He held Lamar’s head in place until finally Lamar got his revulsion under control and forced the wad of cum down his throat. Thumper looked inside Lamar’s mouth like a curious doctor and was satisfied that it was empty.
“Man, Thumper, don’t do-“
“Shut the fuck up, nigga. You done,” Thumper said, letting his dick dangle between his legs. “You did it. Now we ain’t gotta talk about it again.” He leaned forward and kissed Lamar on the cheek. “Go on and gimme some push-ups before we go to bed.”

Thumper & His Prettyboy Cellmate: Ch. 5

As Lamar’s release date neared, he got more and more relaxed. The light at the end of the tunnel was coming closer, and some days Lamar was almost giddy. Thumper seemed upset that Lamar was leaving — long-timers sometimes felt like that, watching someone they cared about walk away, and Thumper was a definite long-timer. He’d been locked up for thirty years.
After dinner a few nights before Lamar’s release, Thumper brought out a bottle of booze. Not toilet vodka either, this was smuggled-in hooch. “I got us a surprise tonight. A bitch and a bottle. The bitch be comin’ by later.”
Lamar ain’t really enjoy getting head from unwilling bitches, but Thumper never asked permission. He assumed everyone stayed as horny as him, and if Lamar demurred even a little, he’d make fun of him for being less horny than an old nigga. Lamar was too handsome to ever admit he wasn’t horny, or everyone would call him a prettyboy who couldn’t perform.
“Whatcha gonna do when you get out there?” Thumper asked. He must have been able to tell what Lamar was thinking about from the look on his face. Indeed, as Lamar’s release seemed more imminent, Lamar could think of nothing else. Time slowed down. Every day became interminable, feeling longer than the entire first couple months of his sentence.
“Nigga, I am gonna eat,” Lamar said as they waited for the snitch to show up, “I am gonna get my mom to make me something nice, and damn I am gonna eat so much. And then I’m gonna find a bitch, and I am gonna fuck the shit outta her pussy.”
The hours drifted on. The bitch never showed up, They later found out Cell Block Zulu was on lockdown, so not even Officer Crabgut could bring Navarone over. Lamar’s last night was shaping up to be the longest and most boring of his life.
But at least they had booze. Lamar don’t much like liquor, honestly, and he never had, but Lamar wanted to get drunk and knew Thumper wouldn’t let him refuse anyway. So he played along and took shots with him all night. That made the boredom almost tolerable.
Lamar passed out near midnight, glad to finally have his last night nearing its completion. It was a deep, fitless sleep that ended abruptly. He woke up to the feeling of Thumper’s arms around him. His sweaty muscles encircled him, his thighs atop Lamar’s hips, his hands caressing Lamar’s nipples.
“Not gonna ram ya,” he said, “But since you leavin’ anyway, I’m gonna have some fun wit’ yo’ ass. Don’t fight this shit, man. I can still tell every motherfucker in the Bloods you disrespected me behind bars. Just relax.”
“Thumper, no, wait-“
“Sssh, I know you ain’t just tell me no,” he whispered in Lamar’s ear, “I can still tell Crabgut to frame you for something, nigga. I can keep you here as my bitch as long as I want. I’m doing you a favor by just making you my wife for a couple hours, and you won’t never have to see me again afterward. You can even pretend you was so drunk you don’t remember it. That’s what I’m gonna do. Unless you fight me and make me hold you down.”
His dick pressed against Lamar’s asshole but hesitated, as though waiting for him to say yes or no, even though he was going to do it anyway. Lamar didn’t want to say that he agreed to it, so he bit his lip.
“Well? Come on,” Thumper whispered. He nibbled on Lamar’s earlobe and wrapped his arms around Lamar’s shoulders, putting him in a loose headlock. “Am I gonna make love to that ass one time and give you a nice reacharound while I do it? Or am I gonna have you punked out for profit for the next seven to ten years?” He waited again. “Huh?”
“Fine,” Lamar spat onto the pillow in front of his face, “Do it. Just hurry up.”
“Don’t be shitty with me, nigga,” Thumper said, “Or I am gonna get shitty with you.” He pushed his dick into Lamar’s ass, and Lamar howled at a sudden burst of pain. The sound was swallowed up by the pillow, which he bit.
Thumper’s thick muscles dragged along Lamar’s back as he pushed down on him with his whole body. He kept his mouth right next to Lamar’s ear and whispered dirty nothings at him, along with exhortations to relax. “Come on, baby, let me in. I know it hurts, baby, but ya gotta relax, okay? I’m gonna get this whole cock in there one way or another, and I know you don’t wanna fight it. You want it, huh? Say you want it.”
“I… want it.”
“Say my name.”
“Thumper.” Pain blistered up Lamar’s spine, as Thumper grunted and moaned in his ear.
“Come on, put it all together. Make it sound like you like it, nigga. Make me believe it.”
“Thumper, I can’t… I don’t like it,” Lamar said.
“Then act, motherfucker,” he said through gritted teeth. Thumper pushed him into position so he could plow him doggystyle. “This position gonna be tough for you, nigga. You ready for it?”
This time he didn’t wait for him to respond. He shoved his cock in and Lamar squealed involuntarily, lifting one of his legs up like a pissing dog. Thumper slammed his hips against Lamar’s ass and slapped a cheek.
His hands both reached around Lamar’s waist and grabbed his cock. “Okay,” he said, “Here comes the reacharound. See? Not a punk if I get you off too. Don’t bother telling the warden I rammed you. They’ll keep you here for the investigation and then they’ll charge you for sure. It’s against the rules, after all.”
“I won’t… snitch,” Lamar said. He could barely speak from the pain in his ass. Somehow Lamar’s dick was getting hard, yet underneath the agony was an undercurrent of sexual pleasure stemming from his freshly stimulated prostate.
“I know,” he said. “You ready for it? I’m gonna cum, and this is gonna hurt even worse. But you doin’ good, nigga, you ain’t even bleedin’.” This time it was Thumper’s turn to lift a leg like a pissing dog. He began jackhammering into him with every thrust and let out a loud moan. Lamar could feel precum filling his ass underneath the mounting pain.
Lamar screamed, unable to hold it in. He tried to collapse to the ground, but Thumper was prepared and held onto Lamar’s hips to keep him in place. He kept him right in position to ram his cock all the way into. They both ended up on the floor, Lamar on his back and Thumper atoppa him, squirming like an overturned turtle.
That was what sent Thumper over the edge, it seemed, because he grunted, the sound resonating in Lamar’s ear. Thumper thrust once more, and a seep of creamy heat filled Lamar’s guts. Lamar squirmed. Thumper gasped.
Hot cum spilled out of Lamar’s ass and down his crotch, nestling in his unkempt pubic hair. Thumper gently squeezed Lamar’s cheeks. “That was good,” he said wave after wave of jizz jetting into Lamar’s ass, “Now you sit right there while I get you off.”
“Lemme up,” Lamar said, “I can’t cum with your dick in my ass.”
“I told you I gonna make you like it, right? I’m a man of my word,” he said, “So I gonna jack you off until you have an orgasm even with me inside you. That way you’ll always remember Thumper White as the man who made you love cock.”
“I don’t love cock.”
“We ain’t done yet,” Thumper said. His hands rushed up and down Lamar’s shaft, stroking him —Lamar was already hard, a fact of which he was unaware until Thumper started, The sensations flowing through Lamar’s body were intense, and Thumper must have felt them too, cuz he kept moaning like an old nigga into Lamar’s ear. “Now hush up and concentrate. If it takes too long, I’ll get hard and wanna cum up you again.”
Thumper’s limp cock was hot and full inside him, but Lamar tried to ignore that and focus on his own half-hard dick. He again thought of his white female on the outside, imagining that she had waited for him, her fleshy pussy spread wide for Lamar’s dick.
That triggered an orgasm in Lamar, a pained, strugglesome orgasm that made his whole body ached even as pleasure coursed through his veins. Lamar’s cum shot through the air and landed on his belly in a big puddle. Lamar groaned, shocked at how easy it turned out to be. He shot a bigger wad than he had in a long time.
Thumper let his dick flop out of Lamar’s ass, but he stayed there on the floor, his arms wrapped around Lamar.
“Thumper?” Lamar said. Thumper didn’t respond. Lamar started to roll off him, but Thumper sleepily rolled over, pinning him with his bulk. His limp cock pressed against Lamar’s asscrack. “Thumper?” Lamar said, resigned to the fact that he was either sound asleep or was pretending to be, and either way, Lamar was going to be spending his last night in Thumper’s arms.
Between the excitement of his imminent release, his shame at being plowed and his disgust at being spooned by the burly nigga beside him, Lamar thought he wouldn’t sleep at all. But somehow Lamar managed to find Thumper’s strong arms and hot body comforting, and Lamar drifted off to sleep despite the fat dick wedged between his cheeks.
And despite all that or perhaps because of it, it was the best night of sleep in his whole life.

Thumper & His Prettyboy Cellmate

Thumper is a legendary prisoner with a new cellmate, a handsome prettyboy with big doe eyes and a tight ass. Always wanting to be helpful to fresh-faced young inmates, Thumper takes a keen interest in his new bunkmate Lamar.

What is Lamar gonna hafta do to get through his seven-month sentence with Thumper?

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