Bitches Don’t Wear Boxers

Bitches Don’t Wear Boxers

By Jimmy

(t/t/m oral anal rape prison)

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I was on some fucked up back road, hitching my way towards I 20, when some
cops pulled up. After being told how Dalton Georgia didn’t take to law
breaking white trash hitch hikers, I found myself cuffed in the back of a
cruiser on my way to jail.

Fuck it, I thought, wasn’t the first trip to jail, wouldn’t be the last one.
I was hungry, tired, and a few days in jail for a fucked up hitching charge
wasn’t about shit. I was hungry enough where even jail food sounded good.

Of course, it was a small fucked up red brick jail, like all red neck towns
seem to have. It was the usual booking, prints, photo, and the strip search.

Strip searches shouldn’t bother me by now, but bending over and spreading my
ass cheeks for another man to look up, it ain’t right. The shit ain’t ever
right!

I was lead to your typical hick ass jail cell. A steel door with a small
safety window, and a trap door for food was the entrance to my temporary
home. Seen it all before. I walked inside, and saw more familiar sights.

Four steel bunks with thin mattresses bolted to the walls. The two bottom
bunks were occupied by sleeping guys, looked to be some young hoods,
probably in for drugs or something. The shower and shitter were on the back
wall.

I threw my sheets and blanket on a top bunk, and since I was feeling a bit
ripe, I headed for the shower. I stripped and got in the small metal stall.
I was surprised to find the water hot. It had been about a week since I had
gotten more then a washing up from a gas station sink. That shower sure felt
good, real good.

Finally, I felt clean again. I reached for my towel and dried off. As I
stepped out, I noticed two things, my two roomies had waken, and my fucking
clothes were gone.

They sat at the table, smirking at me. Like my first impression, they were
two young punks, dressed in boxers. They were smaller then me, younger then
me, and if they thought they were gonna hog me, they were about to find out
different.

“Where’s my fucking shit?” I said. “Where’s my jeans, shirt, my fucking
boxers!”

The hood with the dark hair looked me in the eyes, “Bitches don’t wear
boxers!”

That was all it took for me to lose it! No fucking teen wanna be convicts,
not even two of them, were gonna take shit from me!

I’m 6’2″, around 200 pounds of natural muscle. I’m fucking 30 years old, and
got more hair on my chest, then these punks have on the entire bodies!

I jumped across the cell and grabbed the one that spoke by the throat. Next
thing I know, the other one has a shank up to my neck!

I slowly released the skinny neck my hands were around. I felt the tip of
the shank draw nick my skin.

The hood spoke again, “I told you, bitches don’t wear boxers.” He had his
face right up in mine. “Bitches don’t have balls, either, big man. You sure
act like you got balls, though.”

I felt his hand close around my jewels. I closed my eyes tight as he
tightened down.

“Now, I don’t know what I’m squeezing here, but it can’t be balls. What
you’re gonna do is put your hands behind your back. My buddy’s gonna tie
your wrist together. I’m gonna hold onto whatever I’m squeezing, and if you
move, I’ll rip them off. You got it?”

I nodded in pain and slowly moved my arms in back of me, looking for any
opportunity. As my hands were being tied, I felt helpless. I tried to
reason.

My voice sounded scared, he had slightly relaxed the death grip he had on my
nuts. “Look,” I said, “I ain’t looking for no trouble. I’m just in here for
hitching. We’re all men, just let me alone, okay?”

The grip tightened, “You ain’t no man in here, your a bitch. A big, hairy,
bitch.”

The other one spoke, “He’s tied good, Mike.”

Mike released my nuts.

“Throw a mattress on the floor, TJ.”

I tested my hands, strips of army blankets held my wrist tight together. I
heard the slam of the mattress hitting the floor, Mike shoved me towards it.

Mike said, “Get down on it, face down, bitch.”

I didn’t move. Mike walked up to me. He reached up and grabbed my face. I
groaned as his knee flew up into my balls hard.

For a little, young punk, Mike was strong. He pulled me down, forcing me on
the mattress. “Face down, bitch, face fucking down! Spread them hairy legs!”

Mike maneuvered me down, him and TJ pulled my legs opened. Mike reached up
between my legs and found my ball sack. He tugged on it.

“Okay, big bitch, this is how it goes. I’m fucking you, TJ’s fucking you.
You can scream for help, if you wanna, bitch, but I will rupture you before
the fat lazy guards ever come to save your ass! You got it? I mean rupture,
ruined! Forever, bitch! This ain’t the first time I did this, it ain’t gonna
help for you to resist. You just hit the wrong jail, big bitch, it’s time to
pay! Now, remember, I will pop these if I need to.”

He gave a hard, twisting tug, pain filled my torso!

I had my head to the side, I watched as he stepped out of his boxers. He
already had an erection, I stared at what he planned on raping me with. I
had never seen another male’s boner in real life, and I was just grateful it
wasn’t like the porn actors I had seen. As I looked at it, I couldn’t
believe this was about to happen to me. I had to be having a nightmare, I
kept thinking I would wake up.

I felt Mike climbing on my back. He reached and pried my mouth opened, he
stuffed his boxers inside my mouth.

He repeated, “Bitches don’t wear boxers, they suck on em.”

His smaller body felt strange on mine. It reminded me that I was loosing my
manhood to some young punks. I could feel his erection against my ass
cheeks. It was sticky, wet, warm, and real stiff.

Even as I felt his fingers digging into my ass cheeks, I couldn’t understand
why this was happening. Yeah, I had heard stories, and even been hit on a
few times, but nothing had prepared me for this.