Tag: scenes featuring group showers

Chapter Eleven: A Sweet Release

Knuckle fat-lipped in the doorway, speaking only when he gotta. Knuckle liked working the door. It was liminal, and he hovered neither inside nor out but in the middle like a child hiding in scattered shadows. The sky drizzled lightly tonight, and his right shoulder got wet, but his left shoulder remained dry. He done confiscated a greaser’s switchblade. But the crowd lusted quietly tonight. He knew his scarred face scared men into submission and prevented brouhahas. As far as he was concerned, that was a good thing. Mr. Gregarian said it was a double-edged sword — no rowdiness, so no fighting, but no rowdiness, so no overdoing it on overpriced drinks either. Knuckle ain’t know if Mr. Gregarian told him that because he expected him to fix it or not, but Knuckle ain’t savvy changing how he got perceived, so he never did nothing about it. The switchblade still sat hotly in Knuckle’s pocket.
“Hey, scarface, is Caitlyn Smiles working tonight?”
“-got a pussy on his neck.”
“Sssssh, ssh, ssh, he’ll hear.”
The men all fell silent as sand before they shuffled up to the doorway where Knuckle stood, basking in the luscious leather napkin of the West Virginia night while being buffeted by the overwhelming warmth and wafts of cigarette smoke pluming out from the club’s insides. He checked IDs and sent them in. No cover charges on Sunday, only Friday and Saturday nights and some holidays, Mr. Gregarian said, because otherwise the place got too crowded and the men focused on tipping dancers instead of ordering drinks from Teddy.
Teddy has very soft fingers.
Ever since that night when Teddy jacked him off in the weight room, Knuckle thought about those fingers and returned to the weight room to see if Teddy might meet him there again and touch him with those fingers that were soft like a kitten’s tail. Those fingers had danced and teased his skin, caressing, affectionate, warm, inviting like a hot stove heaping out heat.
And that mouth was soft and warm too, and Knuckle craved it. Lips. Tongue.
Teddy said nice words. Knuckle ain’t recall them, but he remembered the tone and timbre, which resonated in his ears and remained there like resounding church bells and made his toes tingle every time he thought about them. He snuck drinks from his flask as he worked tonight. The vodka in the flask was thinly redolent of sun-baked plastic. It probably came in a plastic bottle, but he ain’t remember the bottle.
Just before midnight, Knuckle had to go in and lay hands on a black fellah who was getting garish and jagged in the mouth, cuz he done grabbed Caitlyn Smiles’s tits, and she looked at Knuckle with a ruddy face and a puckering pair of eyes and a torn bra, and she said, “You better wreck that bastard, Knuckle!”, and so Knuckle grabbed the man by the neck and dragged him into the back alley like a outside dog, and he punched him and kicked him behind the dumpster and left him there sputtering and bathing bloodwise in moonlight because tonight a full moon splashed effulgence through the clouds, and Knuckle liked that he could see so clearly, even in the alley where there ain’t no streetlight.
The black man had a gold crucifix with a ruby at the base. Knuckle took it. He gave it to Caitlyn Smiles later, and he wanted to tell her so many things that were true both inside the club and out, that the necklace was pretty like her, that Jesus would protect her, that Knuckle would protect her, that no man had the right to treat her like that or to paw her like a possessive puppy. In his mind, Knuckle thought all those things, but out loud, he croaked in a bumpy baritone, “Here. I’s givin’ this to you.” She took it and popped a tit out of her dress as though the necklace was a tip and she needed to earn it, but Knuckle ain’t even look at the naked breast. She stood there for a second with her tit out, realized Knuckle had no intention of groping it, then she screwed up her pretty face and scuttered away like she done see a ghost. She blushed. Caitlin Smiles never blushed except deliberately to seduce a man, but Knuckle made her blush by not looking at her bare tit.
Later, Knuckle saw her whispering about it to Teddy with the soft fingers and the lime-slicing knife in one hand. She said “he’s such a freak!” with a giggled-up laugh, and Teddy nodded grimly. They both took a shot of cinammon liqueur and scrupulously avoided looking in Knuckle’s direction.
But Knuckle ain’t let on that he heard. He stood in the doorway. Nobody thought he was where they were when he was in the doorway — Teddy was inside and treated Knuckle like he was outside, so Teddy and Caitlyn could share snickers about him in private, while the men approaching the door outside nervously talked about how to get past the scary-looking bouncer as though he was a statue who couldn’t hear what they said from a few feet away.
That was why Knuckle liked liminal spaces.
“Hey, Knuckle, is the shower in the back nice? Plenty of hot water?” Teddy asked a few minutes after close that night. The last of the men done skedaddle before Knuckle could tell them to leave. The dancers left in a big group because nobody wanted Knuckle to escort them one-on-one through the parking lot.
Knuckle plopped down at the bar. Teddy slid him a cheap drink, while he finished closing down and locking up the bar. Knuckle downed it in one gulp. “No,” he said.
Teddy looked at him like that hadn’t answered his question. He shrugged. “Oh. Okay. Well, I don’t wanna use all your hot water.”
“I do not shower a lot,” Knuckle said.
“Uhhhh…” Teddy stammered and blushed. “Yeah, the dancers complain about that, and… Nevermind. Knuckle, I, uh…” He thought for a long time, then broke eye contact with Knuckle. “Nevermind,” he said again. “I’m having trouble with the shower at my place. There’s this bum who keeps squatting there.” Teddy lived in a ratty old apartment building down the street, and it came with a group shower. Teddy said, “It’s fine. He’s usually passed out cold this late. It just makes the shower seem dirty, and I thought I could shower here before I leave for the night. But I know you’ve been staying here, so-“
“Let’s go,” Knuckle said. He stood up as though to leave, while Teddy was still closing down the bar.
Teddy paused. “What?”
“I will slit his throat if he does not leave,” Knuckle said. He walked to the door.
Teddy had to race after him. “Who? The hobo! Wait, Knuckle! That’s… a little extreme. Wait!” Knuckle stopped by the door and stood motionless. It took Teddy a few seconds to realize that was Knuckle waiting — he just stopped in the middle of Lipsweet like a robot whose off-switch had gotten flicked. “Wait, uh… don’t kill him. You don’t gotta kill him.”
After a pause, Knuckle said, “yes.”
“Okay, just… Talk to him sternly, maybe. Thanks for helping. Don’t kill anybody,” Teddy said. “Lemme just get the bar shut down.” He paused and said again, “Don’t kill anyone.” He raced to finish closing Lipsweet, then he and Knuckle piled into Teddy’s four-door to head to his building.
It was a square building with cardboard replacing most of the windows on the first floor. Teddy lived on the third floor though, which was the top floor. Knuckle saw a row of windows with blinds and curtains and flickering TV screens visible through them. One of those windows was Teddy’s place, the thought of which made Knuckle’s heart tumble over its beat.
Teddy followed Knuckle up the stairs to the third floor. The stairwell was a cold concrete column with spraypainted graffiti scrawled on every surface. The dancers would be shocked and exhilarated to learn Teddy had invited Knuckle to his home — it was an accident, but still, Teddy was going with Knuckle to a second location. The dancers wouldn’t even go with Knuckle into the next room.
Knuckle done took off his shirt and his wifebeater because it was a warm and humid night. His chest cooled, and the nasty burn scar on his shoulder heaved up and down with every breath. Teddy kept sneaking glances at his broad, powerful muscles. Those scars were stark in the dimly lit arteries of Teddy’s building.
Twenty apartments lined the central corridor of the third floor, and they all shared one group shower with just two showerheads. Teddy showed Knuckle to his apartment and pointed out the shower, but Knuckle went straight there, not into Teddy’s place. Teddy followed him, key in hand, into the shower.
The hobo, Bax, sprawled on his back, bugging out in a nest of rotting old clothes and scraps of cardboard. He lay in the middle of the shower area, so he ain’t gonna get wet even if both showerheads was running. That was rare though, as usually men showered alone here.
He ain’t move until Knuckle picked him up by the throat, smacked him in the face and growled. “You don’t live here! You-“
“Aaaagchk!” Bax’s eyes opened wide — he had been awake for days, on a meth binge, but he was unaware of Knuckle until he started hitting him. Knuckle slapped him again. Bax barked, “Git off me!”

When Bax peeped Knuckle’s scarred face and murderous mein, he squealed and squirmed. He clawed at Knuckle’s chest. His feet kicked the cold floor, but Knuckle brought him outta the showers and ignored his blows and cries.
Knuckle dragged him down the stairs and out into the West Virginia night. “If you come back, I will slit your throat,” Knuckle said. He tossed Bax like a sac of seed towards the road.

Then he turned around and came back inside with Teddy, who crouched by the door with wide eyes. Knuckle stood there as though waiting for another assignment.
“Thanks,” Teddy said, blushing. Bax stumbled off into the night, blood trickling from his nose. “You wanna come into my apartment? We could have a drink.”
Knuckle nodded.
They went into Teddy’s apartment. Knuckle stood there like a gravestone, while Teddy fixed them both a quick drink. Then Teddy saw him standing blankly and motioned to the couch. Knuckle sat down. He gulped his drink down in one motion. Teddy sat on the back of the couch, spreading his legs so he could rub Knuckle’s shoulders.
“Tell me about Emma,” Teddy said when he saw that tattoo again on the nape of Knuckle’s neck. His fingers hesitated before touching the burn scar on Knuckle’s neck, but Knuckle’s whole body relaxed at his touch, so he gathered Knuckle liked it or at least tolerated it. He wondered what kind of a woman would love Knuckle. Had Knuckle said she loved him? He definitely said he loved her, but had it gone the other direction? Teddy couldn’t remember.
Knuckle nodded. He waited for Teddy to pour him another drink, then he described the traveling carnival he had joined when he was a mere teenage runaway. He traveled all over the country with that carnival.
She was a glittering blonde beauty when Knuckle first saw her, swathed in bulb light from the carnival. She glid like a galleon through the crowd. She was accompanied by a boyfriend, Tom, but Knuckle ain’t clock him. The world parted like clouds around the sun, so nobody else existed, just her, serene and curving to forever, making Knuckle’s knees go weak.
The Sammy Smack-It Strength Meter dinged and belled behind him, but Knuckle couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.
“Mister! Mister! You s’posed to gimme them tickets!” said the old man who had just scored nearly top marks on the Strength Meter. Thirty tickets had been dispensed from the machine behind Knuckle, so he tore them off the roll and gave them to the wiry old man.
When Knuckle looked again for her, she was gone, lost in the crowd of Indiana appleseeds.
They were in Peoria. It took Knuckle a few minutes to remember that — all these towns looked the same to him, the same people in the same clothes, speaking the same words as they lifted the same hammer and brought it down on the same strength machine.
The one thing different here was her.
Knuckle’s eyes opened wide when he caught a glimpse of her again later. This time she was swathed in swimming darkness, just outside the well-lit carnival grounds. Children streamed past in front of Knuckle, running outta the carnival with caramel apples and sacs of Candy Annie’s home-made sweets. Knuckle pushed past them to get close enough to hear the pretty blonde lady, whose face was pursed tight, her lips bloodless, glowing when she passed under a streetlight, where she stopped to snap something harsh to that man she was with.
“You are such a asshole!” she said to him.
It was only when she said that that Knuckle finally saw she was with a man. A boyfriend. Of course a woman like her wouldn’t be single. She probably had a line of suitors trying to meet her, Knuckle thought.
He went back to the strength meter. That was it. She was gone. He might see her again before the carnival left whatever dipshit town this was, but probably not. He could have talked to her.
But he didn’t, and that was that.
The carnival shut down at ten-thirty, but Knuckle was already done by then. Nobody came by the strength meter that late. He went to the tent he lived in and sat in the lawnchair he done place out front. The sky was dappled with stars overhead, and the night was cool and calm like that woman’s eyes. But inside, Knuckle was afrenzied, with desire and with rage, and he soon got overwhelmed by the feelings coursing through him.
He stood, as the other carnies came in for the night, and he spat curse words. He formed a fist with one hand and punched his other hand in palm hard enough to hurt. He kept doing it, stalking and pacing afront his trailer.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Pavel when he walked past. He was the horse-tamer and expert for the carnival, and he set up people — mainly little girls — with horseback rides. He always smelled like a barnyard. “There’s women here, Knuckle, don’t make ’em uncomfortable.”
Knuckle nodded. His face was grim and ruddy. He stood motionless, unsure what he could say or do that Pavel wouldn’t think made the lady carnies uncomfortable. There weren’t even any women around, most likely. The handful of female carnies were probably in their own tent by now.
“Let’s go for a bath,” Pavel said. That was where he was headed when he saw Knuckle. He always bathed first because he smelled so much like a horse. He ain’t like laying in bed in a cloud of horsehair and straw.
As he led Knuckle into the bath tent, Pavel listened to him talk about the girl he done saw. Pavel was older than Knuckle, and wiser, so he just smiled and patted Knuckle on the back.
“You’re getting this worked up over a girl you ain’t even talk to yet?” Pavel asked.
Knuckle nodded. “I guess it is kinda silly.” He blushed. His face ain’t riddled with scars then. He had a strong, straight jaw with a masculine jawline and a shaggy mane of jet hair.
Pavel filled up two wooden tubs with hot water, then he hurried to rip off his stableboy clothes. He was lean and ripped, powerfully built on his own merits, though he looked skinny next to Knuckle’s barrel-shaped body. Knuckle was slow, his eyes still dreamy and far away. By the time Knuckle was done, Pavel was already sighing and sinking into the warm water.
He leaned back in the tub and sighed. “C’mon into the water, Knuckle. Don’t get’cha hopes up about pretty nice girls. Set your sights on a carnie, most likely. Caroline Nazzir likes you.” She was a carnie, a mermaid in the Hall of Wonders, as well as a pickpocket. She done made it very clear she would sleep with any man, more or less.
But Knuckle never liked her.
His hardon jutted against his briefs when Knuckle dropped his pants. He ain’t even realize that until he took his underwear off and saw it. He covered it up with both hands, not because it would be scandalous for Pavel to see him sporting a stiffy but simply because Pavel would make of him being smitten when he did see it.
And Knuckle had to admit, he was smitten. He couldn’t stop thinking about that girl, Emma, as he climbed into the tub and sat across from Pavel. Their legs were intertwined. Since Knuckle was bigger, his legs were on the outside, pressed against the sides of the wooden tub.
“I see that, you horny dog, you sportin’ wood,” Pavel said with a baritone laugh. “You still thinkin’ about her, ain’cha?”
Knuckle nodded. He got an awkward grin on his face. “She was so pretty, Pavel…”
One of Pavel’s big knobbly feet gripped Knuckle’s dick under the water. He rubbed it up and down and laughed at the look on Knuckle’s face — Knuckle’s eyes lit up with surprise, then disgust, then a long slow melting bliss as his half-hardon turned into a full-on.
Pavel grimaced and laughed at the same time, and he put his other foot on it too. Knuckle’s dick throbbed under Pavel’s callused feet, softened by the water. Knuckle twitched.
Pavel was jacking Knuckle off with his feet for two reasons. The first was that it was funny. The second was that it would mean Knuckle ain’t gonna make Pavel use his mouth or even butt later. That was an option because Pavel owed a lot of money to this carnival, and he had to pay it by giving up the butt to any carnie who needed it. That mattered because a horny carnie was liable to start trouble in the small towns they visited.
But his plan backfired — Knuckle stood up, and, in one smooth motion, bathwater still dripping from his cock, Knuckle slipped his dick into Pavel’s mouth. Knuckle bent his knees, his eyes still upcast and dreamy, like he was moving on autopilot.
Pavel made a sourpuss puckering face, but he ain’t refuse. He been taking dick for years in this carnival, and it was better than starving to death in Poland. At least here, the food was plentiful. He slurped spit up and down Knuckle’s shaft.
A baritone grunt came from Knuckle’s mouth, and he pistoned his hips. His dick rammed into Pavel’s throat. Pavel was a tall man, so he managed to swallow almost the whole thing, until his nose was nestled in Knuckle’s pubic bush.
“Ooooohhhhmmmmm…” Knuckle moaned. He thought getting hard and blowing a nut would make him forget about that blonde woman, but it didn’t. He kept thinking about her anyway. She was too pretty to imagine himself fucking her, so he pictured her talking to him and touching his arm and giggling when he spoke — giggling with her eyes too, not just her mouth.
Sour, salty precum coated Pavel’s tongue. A moist gurgling sound came from Pavel, who patted Knuckle’s big asscheeks to signal he needed a break. Pavel spat a mouthful of prenut and wiped pubic hair off his lips.
“Gimme a sec,” Pavel said. He clutched his belly with one hand, his face tense and queasy. He held back a gag and pursed his lips shut tightly.
But Knuckle kept humping, his hips gyrating, his cock jabbing back and forth, without Knuckle paying any attention. Knuckle’s mind was fixated on her. He ain’t even notice at first that his dick moved through the air, not Pavel’s mouth. It poked Pavel in the nose when he was trying not to gag, and that caused him to retch violently.
“Uaaaaggghhhhk…!” Pavel held his stomach again and spat outta the bathtub. He intended to keep spitting until the eye-wateringly salty taste of precum vanished, but Knuckle’s dick kept poking him in the face like it was trying to find his mouth. “Gimme a sec, Knuckle-“
But his mouth opened to speak, and Knuckle — his eyes still closed — aimed his rod right for it. Pavel’s whole body buckled as Knuckle’s knob invaded his mouth, instantly filling it again with precum.
Pavel ain’t try to spit it out, though his wiry chest muscles all flexed as he held back a gag. Knuckle’s pecker pulsated like an alien beast in his mouth, and Pavel’s tongue slathered spit up and down the shaft.
Cum flowed into Pavel’s throat. Knuckle grunted again, and he pounded on his chest. Pavel winced, scrunching his eyes shut. The taste was intensely salty and powerful. He held back a gag.
Finally, Knuckle let go, and Pavel pulled off. He simultaneously gasped for air and spat jizz onto the ground outside the wooden tub. He paused for a moment. “Ecchk, your jizz tastes awful, Knuckle.” He spat again, as Knuckle sighed and wiped his dicktip off on Pavel’s cheek.
“Thanks, Pavel,” Knuckle said. His nostrils flared, and he sat back down in the spermy water of the wooden bathtub. “But I still can’t stop thinking about her.”

The Scarred Bouncer: Chapter Six

Chapter Eleven: A Sweet Release

The city of Martinsburg was vibrant and inky-black tonight, as Teddy strode and Knuckle limped back to Teddy’s apartment. Knuckle was bruised-up again, ice on his black eye, his nose bandaged by the nurse at the fight — Knuckle had just competed in a bare-knuckle boxing match against a stout Bulgarian fellow.
Knuckle limped victoriously because he had smashed that Bulgarian man into the dirt. He limped because the Bulgarian got a buncha good hits in first. Teddy walked with a pumped-up gait to his step because he had bet big-time on Knuckle, and he was now eight hundred dollars richer. He had never done anything as exciting.
The fight was brief, but a half-dozen matches between smaller men came up before the heavyweights. During the bouts between smaller men, Teddy stood behind a short but well-muscled Mexican man with macabre tattoos covering his bare back and neck (and probably his front, but Teddy couldn’t see that). Teddy had gotten up so close to him that he was shoved face-first into the man’s sweaty shoulder muscles.
Seeing that other men were touching each other too, Teddy’s own fingers had moved to the Mexican’s warm belly and up his side. Teddy gripped him as though he was being jostled hard from behind.
The Mexican ain’t respond. His back was so sweaty, his muscles firm beneath a thick layer of padding. Teddy couldn’t help but moan into his manly meat. The roar of the crowd was loud — Teddy couldn’t even have heard the Mexican complain if he said something, but he ignored Teddy’s fingers creeping around to his chest.
Then before Teddy knew it his own dick was out, his hands moving on autopilot now. The Mexican man had a thick layer of fur on his chest, which Teddy teased with one hand, while his other slipped lower, into the Mexican man’s pants.
His dick was warm and wet with sweat, and the Mexican man shouted then, startling Teddy — but he was just cheering because the Mexican fighter he had bet on just won his match. The Mexican still ignored Teddy, giving no signs he had even noticed Teddy’s hand jacking him off his in his mud-crusted workpants or Teddy’s cock leaking precum into the puddle of sweat in the small of the Mexican man’s hairy back.
Teddy had no idea which of them came first. The Mexican’s crotch was so wet with sweat that it wasn’t until his dick got limp that Teddy realized the crotch-sweat was now creamy and sticky with jizz. Then Teddy shot his own wad over the Mexican man’s hairy, tattooed back.
He stepped away. Had anyone noticed? He didn’t think so. Teddy giggled and put his cock away, watching his jizz drip over the Mexican man’s gang tats.
But then Knuckle’s fight began, and Teddy paid attention to that. It was over quick, and Knuckle showed no emotion when the burly black man refereeing the bout held up one of Knuckle’s arms to show his victory.

Then Knuckle collected his share of the take, and Teddy got his winnings from the pimp in a green suit flanked by scantily clad hos. Teddy was so excited he didn’t even notice the hos trying to seduce him or the pimp scowling cuz Teddy ignored the hos.

All Teddy cared about was making sure Knuckle was okay and that he got home okay.
Teddy’s apartment building was quiet and dark by the time they got there. The walls were thin like water, so the sounds of TVs and radios and air conditioners were audible in the halls. They went up the stairs to the third floor.
“Oh, that smell,” Teddy wrinkled his nose. “I think that must be a rat or something. I smell it sometimes.” It was a sort of a cat-piss-in-a-sandbox aroma.
“Meth.”
“The landlord’s a dick. He sent an exterminator around last year, but he was just looking for roaches,” Teddy said. He went to his apartment and opened the door. “Did you say meth?”
Knuckle nodded. “That’s meth. Somebody’s smoking meth.” He strode down the hall to the showers. Teddy shut his apartment door and followed Knuckle.
There, right where Knuckle had kicked his ass a couple months ago, was Bax. He crouched and smoked his meth from a glass stem. The dense smoke filled the shower area. He glanced up at Knuckle when he came in, but he didn’t seem to recognize him.
“Hey, mistuh, you got a nasty scar on ya face, you all beat up,” Bax said. “You look like you went through the ringer, the ringer, the ringer, what is that? What are you doing? You live here, huh, do you? I am just getting high, exploring the linoleum. Linoleum. Linoleum.”
He yelped when Knuckle punched him in the face, then grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved him face-first into the wall. Knuckle growled. “I thought I told you to get outta here and nevuh show yo’ face.”
“You bitch-ass! I live here!” Bax spat and fell limp, groaning in pain. Knuckle dropped him to the ground. Bax crawled around at Knuckle’s feet, unable to get upright, either because he was hurt or because he was too methed up, or maybe some of both.
This had all happened so fast that Teddy could do little more than stare. He went pale. He realized Knuckle was talking to him, repeating himself over and over, but it took some time for Teddy to focus.
“If I hit him more, he won’t be able to leave,” Knuckle said.
Teddy gulped. He hadn’t meant for Bax to get seriously hurt, so he didn’t want Knuckle to hit him again. But without a serious injury, Bax seemed likely to come right back.
Teddy slyly smiled. “Knuckle… will you show me what ramrodding is? I’ve heard about it, it’s a prison thing, right?”
Knuckle shrugged and nodded. He got down behind the barely conscious Bax and dropped his pants. He shoved his limp dick at Bax’s butthole. Knuckle seemed unaware until he tried that he had no erection and couldn’t possibly get his dick into Bax’s bony bottom.
The motion definitely woke Bax up thoroughly though. His wiry limbs flexed as he tried to get up. Knuckle smacked him hard. Bax yelped and tried to squirm away, but Knuckle held onto him by the back of the neck.
“Don’t move, punk.” Knuckle rabbit-punched Bax in the back of the head. Bax howled. “I said don’t move. On your hands and knees-“
“What the fuck is you doin’-?”
“Shut up.” Knuckle kept aiming his dick for Bax’s asshole, but he wasn’t hard so it didn’t go in. He did stroke it though with one hand, so it was getting hard slowly. “This is ramrodding.” He was so matter-of-fact that Teddy didn’t realize Knuckle was talking to him.
“Oh, I-” Teddy gasped.
“Ow, ow, ow! You fuckin’ freak!” Bax howled. Knuckle punched him again in the back of the head, then in the side. Bax flinched in agony. He clutched his already-bruised ribs where Knuckle had bruised them again. “Ow! You owe me then! You owe me! I charge fifty bucks to take it up the rear!”
Knuckle shoved his dick in, still only part hard but hard enough now to get purchase on Bax’s buckhole. His dick doubled up then — it looked painful — as it almost slipped out. He kept stroking his pecker with one hand. He plowed his hips, forcing his dick in a little deeper.
“Get ready,” Knuckle said. He kept a tight grip on Bax’s neck. Now that his dick was rock-hard, he forced it in, using one hand to hold Bax in place and the other to motion for Teddy to get ready behind him. “Be done in a sec.”
“I don’t care how quick you done!” Bax roared. He thought Knuckle was talking to him. “You still gotta-!” He squealed as Knuckle squeezed his neck to shut him up.
But Teddy realized Knuckle was telling him to go next. Teddy’s heart raced. Knuckle’s whole body flexed right in front of his face, as Knuckle blew a nut and Teddy massaged his weary asscheeks and powerful back.
Cum filled Bax’s butthole. Knuckle didn’t move a beat or make a sound, he simply kept going, churning Bax’s loose butthole into a giant bubbly mess of white. He stopped only when his balls were thoroughly drained.
“You ready for a go?” Knuckle asked.
Teddy nodded, and Knuckle pulled his limp dick out. Teddy raced to take his place. He got behind Bax, who still squirmed and wriggled, but he didn’t try to get up.
Teddy shoved his dick in. Bax’s grimy asshole gaped in front of him. He howled in pain, and Teddy almost backed off out of instinct.
“Ow, shit!” Bax roared. Teddy wanted to tell him that he would pay for his ass, as long as Bax agreed to leave and not come back.
But mind-blowing bliss enveloped Teddy and compelled him to stay quiet, to push on, penetrating deeper into Bax’s loose hole. There was no resistance in the hole, though he sensed Bax’s whole body trying to flex his butthole — he wasn’t intact and couldn’t squeeze effectively.
It did send a wave of pleasure through Teddy though, whose whole body shook and tensed as he reached orgasm.
A burst of jizz sprayed into Bax’s now-loose butthole. Teddy cried out loud, virtually screaming, the sound ricocheting off the linoleum walls of the shower. Bax sprawled out flat on his belly. Teddy kept humping, making a puddle of jizz form beneath his taint.
Teddy’s cock plopped out of his ass, followed by a pair of giant cumloads dripping onto the shower floor. Bax grunted with relief, then staggered upright on unsteady feet. His pants were around his ankles, and he was dizzy with bruises on his face and ribs. He croaked out loud.
“If anybody evuh see you in this buildin’ again,” Knuckle said, “I will slit ya dumb bitch throat.” He shoved the still-mostly-naked Bax towards the door. “Now run.”
Bax sprinted out with his pants around his ankles.

The Scarred Bouncer: Chapter Nine

Chapter Eleven: A Sweet Release

Jeffers was released in early March. Knuckle had no idea that was coming, and neither did Buck. It seemed few fellahs in the Gray Snakes knew about it. It threw the whole organization in a tailspin. Jeremy Trudale claimed to be the new leader, but not everybody respected him much. Neither Knuckle nor Buck wanted to get involved — neither were actual Gray Snakes, after all. They were more like affiliates.
Regardless, nobody but Jeffers ever approved of that “no jacking off” rule, so whatever else happened, that was out the door with Jeffers. Nobody much mentioned that at first. The most important priority was choosing a new leader — the Gray Snakes had a shipment of heroin being smuggled in, and somebody was gonna have to take charge to bribe the right guards, disburse the heroin and monitor its sale. Lotta Gray Snakes were giving inklings of a desire to take on Jeremy Trudale, but nobody done make a move yet.
So all the Gray Snakes were on edge, just waiting to see who would get shanked first and who would take charge, who would take possession of the heroin, who would pay for it and make sure none of the fiends used it up. Buck and Knuckle ain’t a part of none of that internal politicking. Neither were to be here that long, and neither wanted to rule over a buncha bikers. So they both kept their head down.
That lasted until Buck came to Knuckle with a proposal. They were lined up to head to the shower. Knuckle wore prison-issue boxers, but Buck was in another pair of filthy briefs. Both carried towels and little plastic baggies of soap.
“Hey, I gots an idea,” Buck said. The line shuffled forward towards the shower. Ten guys were allowed in at once, after ten guys left the shower, counted off by the bored-looking guard at the entrance. “Let’s pick a fellah to pimp out like that Damien homeboy was. We can make a pretty penny off somebody’s booty.”
Knuckle ain’t say nothing. His instinct was to say no. They ain’t have long to go, so picking a punk seemed like a waste of time.
On the other hand, he thought, they could turn some poor bastard’s booty into a mountain of prison smokes that could be converted into cash. Then he and Buck could walk outta here with some real money.
So he shrugged and nodded. “Who?” he asked.
Not that far away was Lance Barrymore, a newly minted Gray Snake who had just arrived. He was young and meaty but not especially big. He nervously waited to shower.
He hated the group showers.
He was crowded among the much larger men, especially that big hairy redneck and the scarface guy. He felt vulnerable. But he was a Gray Snake in good standing, and he was in a cell block controlled by the Gray Snakes. He had been keeping outta the power vacuum in the gang.
The next group of ten were sent into the showers, and Lance was among them, as were Knuckle and Buck. Lance sucked in his breath. The showers were huge and crowded. Some two hundred men filled the space, which was only meant for less than half that. Every couple minutes a small group would filter out, but some men stayed in here for hours — smoking crack or dealing it, or just sitting in lawn chairs and conducting business. The guards ain’t care how long anyone stayed in.
The showerheads were tall pillars that sprayed warm water in a three hundred and sixty degree arc. The group of ten that Lance was in were all Gray Snakes, and they kept together as they went to a mostly unused showerhead. Lance soaped himself up quietly.
His ears pricked up though, because he sensed those two weirdos, the mullet one and the scarred freak, looking at him. His booty shimmered, pale as ivory though most of Lance’s skin was well-tanned. Lance weren’t very big. He was strong enough on the outside — he was athletic, and he worked out, and his job kept him active — but he weren’t big or tough or especially muscular.
Lance’s heart raced. Were they talking about him? Were they worried he would try to take control of the gang? That seemed unlikely, but why else would they be watching him so closely? Lance gulped.
All around him naked men showered. He considered scuppering — he could go to the crowded showerhead a few yards away; that one was dominated by old men and child molesters. Nobody wanted to shower with them.
But that might be perceived as abandoning the Gray Snakes. Part of showering together as a gang was keeping each other safe. And Lance would have to pass a buncha Crips in order to get there. They were sallow and serious black men, showering like soldiers with flat faces, facing outward in an organized circle so there was no getting the drop on any of them.
Lance felt a tight pinch in his backside.
“Oh god, owwwww-!” His screaming was cut off by the redneck, Buck, putting his meaty paw over Lance’s mouth. The other Gray Snakes erupted into a hubbub of laughs and commentary, as Buck pulled Lance towards the pillar showerhead in the center of the Gray Snakes.
Buck and Knuckle were there by the showerhead too, outside the shower spray, and the rest of the Gray Snakes spread out to complete the circle. That way nobody could see Lance — Knuckle and Buck were tall enough that their heads rose above the other Gray Snakes, but Lance was concealed entirely.
Now that Lance was out of the loud shower spray, he could hear the Gray Snakes’ commentary.
“Oh shit, a punk-?”
“Jeremy allow that?”
“He short. He a short punk.”
“Hey, bitch, no screamin’,” Buck said. He was so close to Lance that his voice boomed loudly over the sounds of two hundred men and some twenty showers going at once. His hairy chest was matted to his muscles. “What’s ya name?”
“Laaaaance…” The biting pain in his backside was intense, and Lance realized it was that scarred freak Knuckle behind him, his dick pushing into Lance’s butthole.
“A’ight, Lance, from now on you is our punk,” Buck said, raising his voice so the Gray Snakes could all hear. “That means you gotta make us money.” All Lance could pay attention to was the growing pain in his butthole. He swatted behind himself, where Knuckle’s powerful body gripped his waist and plowed in.
“Whaaaat?” Lance gritted his teeth. “Please, stop, ow-“
“Shut the fuck up,” Buck said and slapped him across the face. “Punks don’t complain. No beggin’, no whinin’.”
“Ow, shit!” All Lance could think about was the pain in his asshole. Knuckle was pounding away at his booty, holding him up when Lance’s knees buckled. A trickle of blood ran down Lance’s leg, but Knuckle ignored it. “OWWWWW!”
He finally stopped begging when Buck gripped Lance’s throat and squeezed. Unable to breathe, Lance’s whole body went limp. Buck let go of his neck and punched him in the belly.
That made all of his muscles go limp at once, as he desperately tried to breathe. Knuckle’s dick rammed all the way in, breaking Lance open and going to ground with him.
“Sssssssshhhhhhiiiiiitttttt!” Lance said, his face slammed into the concrete floor. A massive wave of creamy hot cum filled him up, so deep that all Lance felt at first was the warmth. Then, when Knuckle began to pull his cock out, Lance felt twinges of intense pain and the slimy jizz flowing into him.
He was still loose and gaping, his butt bloody but washed clean by shower water in seconds. Buck slid in before Lance could even think, and the eye-splitting pain began again.
“You understand what to do?” Knuckle asked. He sat down next to Lance like they were having a casual chat. The other Gray Snakes remained in a little circle around the showerhead, blocking Lance and his newly-punked-out booty from the rest of the inmates. Their dicks were right at Knuckle’s eye level, but he ignored that. He asked again, “You understand how to punk, Lance?”
“Ow, I — ow, I don’t — I-” Lance sucked in his breath, unable to think with Buck pounding away at his asshole.
Knuckle grabbed him by the neck. He squeezed lightly, not choking him but definitely getting his attention. “Ignore your asshole. Listen to your assignment,” he said, his voice flat and throbbing in Lance’s ear. “You must jack men off with your mouth and butthole-“
“No-“

More pain exploded in his face, as Knuckle punched him hard, all without any expression on his face. Knuckle said, “Don’t say no to us. You charge one pack for mouth and three for butt for now. Once you get loose, we’ll lower it to two packs for your butt.” Knuckle paused. He slapped Lance. “You hear that?”

Lance gulped and nodded. He gritted his teeth. The sound of Buck’s cavernous chest breathing heavily overwhelmed Lance’s ears, and the blistering pain of Buck’s cock stretching his asshole open made Lance whimper. He lowered his head, unable to think of any possible reaction besides submitting to ensure this ended as soon as possible.
“You live in our cell from now on too,” Buck said. His voice staggered as he reached his orgasm, and he let out a moan. “You sleep on the floor.”
Lance nodded at that too.
The off-kilter flatness of Knuckle’s voice overpowered the showers all around. He said, “Gray Snakes, y’all hear that? We’re paying a third of his take to the organization.” That was generally seen as normal in this prison — not in the Gray Snakes, of course, because all jacking off and all punks were forbidden until this morning, but most gangs required that tax from any members who made money illicitly. The Gray Snakes were paying off guards to look the other away, after all, so the organization demanded its cut.
Plus, the Gray Snakes would make sure Lance worked hard if they were getting a cut.
Lance buried his face in his hands, as he finally felt Buck’s throbbing cock orgasm inside his guts. Cum filled him up. Buck shot a great thick load that spilled out onto the filthy concrete floor, where it was immediately washed down the drain.
Finally, Lance was done. He sprawled out on the floor. “Wait,” he said weakly. He wanted to explain that he was a Gray Snake in good standing. They couldn’t do this to him. But his ass was in such pain that he could think of the words, nor could he think to resist as Knuckle dragged him to the doorway outta the shower.
He left him there on his knees, just a few feet from the guard outside the showers. “Make at least three packs before the end of showers,” Knuckle said.
“Yeah,” Buck added, “And clean ya damn butt up too, don’t come back to the cell with ass-blood running down ya leg.” They both walked out, leaving him there on his knees, ready to earn smokes for them.