Gay Force 20: The
Cellmate From Hell
note: All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction
are 18 years of age or older.
of an image of a model in this ebook or in advertisements for it does
not suggest that the model is depicted in the work presented here,
nor that the model participates in, endorses, condones or approves of
the thoughts or behavior described in this ebook.
photo is Copyright Metrowind: Creative Commons
Andre had been in
Brutewood Correctional for six months, and he was in good shape, he
thought. He had a secure spot in the Nine Tats gang. He was just a
lookout for now, but he was well-respected. He was as safe and as
comfortable as anybody could expect to be in a maximum-security
when he was suddenly reassigned to a new cell, he wasn't sure if it
was a good thing or a bad thing -- his current cellmate was an
elderly Puerto Rican man, which was a double-edged sword because
Andre was safe around him, but also bored and powerless within his
gang. It was tough to rise through the ranks with no one but Gilberto
Matos on his side (and Gilberto was a bit senile and often forgot who
Andre was, so he wasn't even always on Andre's side).
to his surprise, his new cellmate was Rodney "Tanktop"
Jones, former NFL legend. Tanktop had been the most successful
linebacker in the league when he was convicted of murder for an
incident from his college days. He towered there in the cell when
Andre was shoved in by the guards.
initial reaction was both relief and surprise. He had thought the
rumors that Tanktop was coming to this prison were just rumors, so he
was surprised to see him there. He was also relieved because he knew
for a fact that Tanktop was also a Nine Tat. He had probably arranged
to have a fellow Nine Tat for a cellmate. Being assigned to share a
cell with a well-known and reputable member of the gang suggested
that Andre's position was as secure as he had hoped.
seemed more and more important the more Andre thought about it. He no
longer had to live with Gilberto, he could live with someone who had
connections within the organization. No one could ever attack Andre
without clearing it with his new cellmate, and no one had ever
suggested Tanktop was really mean -- when he was famous, he had been
lampooned as goofy and stupid, but never mean.
shit, man, Tanktop Jones!" Andre tried not to gush like a
fanboy, but he was excited. "Oh hell, man, my brothers ain't
nevuh gonna believe you my cellmate!" His excitement was
tempered by the realization that Tanktop's six and a half feet tall
frame and his beefy body took up more than three times the space of
Andre's previous cellmate. He was physically difficult to get around.
He beamed like a clown, doing sit-ups there in the cell even though
he took up the entire floorspace, forcing Andre to tiptoe around him
as he settled his things onto his bunk.
worked out until dinnertime, while Andre asked him some questions but
mostly managed to avoid embarrassing himself. He didn't even really
watch football, he thought, he shouldn't be this excited about
Tanktop. But so little happened here -- prison life was an explosion
of dreadful monotony -- that this significant, important and
interesting development was all Andre could think about.
Andre got to lead him to the mess hall, feeling like someone
important for the first time since he had gotten here. He showed
Tanktop where the mess hall was, told him about where the line
started and the unspoken rules about who sat where.
thanks, nigga," Tanktop said over and over. He smiled a lot --
he had a charming, deep grin accentuated by a missing front tooth --
and spoke like he didn't really find any of this useful (he had been
in prisons for fifteen years, just not this
prison) but wanted to humor Andre. A part of Andre realized that but
didn't care, he just wanted to seem useful.
After dinner, they had a
few more hours of free time. Andre read quietly in his cell while
Tanktop met with Smackdown, the leader of the Nine Tats. Andre knew
better than to ask what they discussed.
Eventually lights out
came, and Andre was tired enough to go right to sleep. Prison life
was so boring that when something exciting did happen, Andre got
overly tired like a child. His cell was uncomfortably warm -- he
wasn't sure if that was because of this new cell's location or if it
was the giant man's body heat in the bunk above.
But whatever the cause,
it made Andre very sleepy. He passed right out, despite his anxiety
over the new situation. Even Tanktop's massive body and heavy
breathing didn't bother him. He thought Tanktop must be uncomfortable
because he was much too tall for his bunk. Tanktop tossed and turned
several times, his heft making both bunk-beds shake.
He awoke sometime in the
night, groggy due to the overwhelming heat and humidity. He didn't
know why he was awake, except that there was something on his teeth.
Something touched his lip. Was it a bug? There were cockroaches in
the walls, so that wasn't impossible.
nigga, shush..." Tanktop's deep voice filled the cell. He
whispered but he was so big that he didn't really have much of a
whisper. His voice still felt loud in Andre's ears.
He gagged and pulled his
head away, but Tanktop's hand kept him in place. Tanktop had a
massive dick, nearly a foot long and more veiny than Andre thought
possible. It rubbed over Andre's face. Tanktop was partially erect,
and his cockshaft smeared sweat onto Andre's cheeks and lips.
shush," Tanktop said with a nervous, rumbling chuckle. "Ain't
Smackdown was the leader
of the Nine Tats in this prison. Andre had only talked to him a few
times, but it was Smackdown who must have arranged the cell transfer.
Smackdown was in charge of all drug sales here (at least drug sales
among black inmates).
"What? Quit it,
nigga..." Andre wanted to sound tough, but he knew he just came
across as whiny. This was all happening very fast. Was Tanktop going
to rape him? That thought made Andre's heart race. "Get off me!"
Tanktop sighed. "Damn
it... Why'd you have to wake up?" He sucked on his teeth. "Look,
nigga, uh... I ain't a rapist, okay? Don't be like that."
"What are you
"I want a blowjob,
nigga. Smackdown said you'd suck me off. You won't be like-"
shush. You ain't my bitch, okay? Just chill out. Relax, okay? No big
deal. We just fuckin' around on the downlow," Tanktop said. He
rubbed the tip of his dick over Andre's face. Andre gagged -- it was
very salty with sweat (and, he presumed, dried-on cum), and the
rubbery texture of its half-hard shaft felt disgusting to him as
well. . "C'mon, nigga."
"I ain't... I don't
do that, man," Andre said. His heart pounded in his chest. The
smell of Tanktop's sweat, barely covered by cheap deodorant, filled
He pried Andre's jaw
open. "I ain't gonna rape you, nigga, don't worry. You ain't my
bitch. You ain't even a prison wife, man. Just open up. Just the tip,
okay? You can tell me to stop anytime if you hate it. You might not
mind it, you might like it. Lotta faggots out there like it. I won't
cum in yo' mouth neither. I just can't blow a nut from jackin' off,
so lick on the tip a bit, that's all I need."
he just shoved his dick in Andre's mouth. He kept murmuring just
the tip but
he didn't slow down even for a moment. He rammed his dickshaft in
until Andre gagged.
But then, even that
didn't stop him either. His cock firmed up in Andre's mouth, and his
hairy, low-hanging balls swayed. Andre's eyes opened wide as he
struggled to push Tanktop away -- he couldn't see anything, of
course, because the cell was dark at night, but his eyes still bugged
relax, we just fuckin' around on the downlow. Don't make too much
noise, okay, them guards prolly doin' they rounds," he said with
a throaty chuckle. "C'mon, nigga, don't fight it. Open up that
throat, just the tip, okay, ain't gonna treat you like a bitch."
Despite his words, he
never hesitated for a moment. Andre wanted to point that out to him,
but of course his mouth was full and Tanktop didn't let up. His cock
tasted sweaty and salty -- Andre hated it but had to admit it tasted
like a rather funky vagina -- and it made Andre gag.
"You still my main
nigga, alright, don't get upset or nothin'. We gonna be real close,
man, you gonna be friends wit' a football star. People don't even
care 'bout cock-suckin' no more, nigga, you can tell folk when you
ready. They gonna think you great suckin' on Tanktop Jones' dick. You
gonna have girls be jealous of you, nigga..." Tanktop murmured.
"So you ain't my bitch, you ain't gotta give up the booty or
nothin', ya ain't gotta lick my doodyhole, ya ain't gotta swallow my
nuts." He chuckled again and pulled his dick out -- for just an
instant, long enough to let Andre take a hoarse breath while Tanktop
dragged his sweaty balls over Andre's face. He laughed loudly at
Andre's frenzied gagging. The smell of his stale scrotum was intense,
and the coarse black hairs there scratched at Andre's tongue. "Sorry,
there, you tastin' my nuts, but you ain't gotta taste my cum."
He resumed fucking Andre's mouth, while Andre was mid-gasp.
Both his hands gripped
Andre's head tightly, one on his chin, the other on his forehead
mostly but moving around as he fucked. His heavy balls smacked
against Andre's cheek because Andre's head was on his side -- Tanktop
hadn't let him move much since he awoke.