“Goddamnit, Lucy, Mother Thomas and me didn’t bust up ’cause he caught
me eating a broad up. The reason we busted up happened at Mother’s birthday
party. A
young fine freak queen kept rubbing his tender round ass against my jones.
Shit, I was dumb, drunk and aching to do my thing to that cute freak. I
took him in one of the johns and was piling this foot of pure hot joy into him
when I remembered the big mirror was two-way. Mother was watching, and so were
twenty other people. He
almost had a nervous breakdown and heckled me night and day about how rotten I
was to play him cheap before his friends. I woke up one early bright morning
with Mother’s tongue in my mouth. She was in drag and slobbery drunk. Her mouth
stank like a sewer. I got wide awake and saw that Mother had freaked off with
some dirty bastard. Mother’s face and lips was crusted with shit. I
got a golf club and beat his nasty white ass upstairs and down. He peed like a
puppy all over the mansion. I did a year in the slammer. Now, Lucy, that’s how
I busted up with Mother Thomas.”
At night after lights-out, the male inmates in the cells across the
courtyard would light matches to show their erected dicks and balls to the
screaming female inmates on the tier above my tier. The
female inmates would do likewise to show their cunts in bold relief to the
profane males across the way, cheering the bitches on as they jacked off their
stiff cocks in the yellow glow of the matches. Often,
apparently, females sharing a cell would really play dog for the guys across
the way, because excited shouts rode the night air like, “Sit in her face,
baby! Bite that bitch’s tiddie off. Fuck that long cunt whore, you big dick
bitch.” It
was perhaps the horny sights and hot sounds of this nightly bacchanalia that
kept the caged hoodlums on our tier inflamed and edgy and eager to assault and
rape one another.
