Warning, this story may contain explicit descriptions of sexual acts between boys of various ages and/or men and boys. If this is not to your tastes, please leave now.

The author retains copyrights to the story. 

http://www.pridesites.com/cdawg/C_City.htm     Stop by, I'd love to hear from you!

By Chris Carr

Copyright 1999


His nerves frayed, Keone was awakened the next day by the sound of two boys fighting in his dorm room. Troubled, he'd gotten little sleep, the clamorous sound of the brawling boys only adding to his anxiety. Ejecting himself upright in his bed at the sound of the struggle, he watched the scantily clad boys, their bodies dripping sweat, pushing, pulling and striking each other around the room. What the hell was this about, he wondered, and why today, of all days? The other boys began to wake also, watching the combating boys as if it were a prime time, prize fight. By the time the delinquent guards arrived to break the boys up, Keone was a near nervous wreck. Convinced that if he had to stay one more day in this mad house he'd go insane, he resolved to protect himself, at any cost!

As good fortune would have it, he was assigned to laundry detail with Jerrell again. His nerves unraveling, Jerrell eventually told Keone that he "sho was jumpy today."

"It's this place, B. I cain't take it, man."

"Yeah, I heard you had a big day, yesterday."

"Oh, I guess you heard what happened then?"

"I hear everything, B."

Keone scooped up a handful of sheets, the pungent smell of urine biting his nose, and tossed them into a washer.

Continuing, Jerrell said, "Yeah, like I hear yo' heart pounding in yo li'l chest, too."

Wiping his hands on his jeans, Keone looked at Jerrell, but said nothing.

"So, you was in the bathroom when it happened, huh?"

"Yeah," Keone muttered.

"Malik got a big dick like they say?"

Appalled, Keone looked at his feet, reluctant to answer.

"I couldn't really see it that good," he lied.

"Did he even try ta grease it up fo' he stuck the li'l boy?"

Slumping against one of the bins, Keone dropped his head distraught. Jerrell sure is being a dog, he thought. Why he asking me all these nasty questions?

Quietly he responded, "Naw, B, he just rammed it in 'em."

"Li'l nigga was all screaming and shit, huh?"

"Why you askin' all these question, Jerrell?"

"Betcha his ass was probably bleedin' too," Jerrell continued, ignoring him. "How long it take before Malik got his nut?"

"I don't know," Keone finally said, turning to scoop another pile of sheets into the washer. Slamming the door, he started the machine's wash cycle.

"Think li'l man felt it when Malik's dick shot up his ass?"

"Jerrell, I cain't talk 'bout this, man. Malik saw me, dude and he goin want to do me next!" Keone croaked.

"His dick as big as they say it is, B, you ain't goin be talking, walking or sitting fo' 'bout a week!" Jerrell taunted. Frightened and perplexed, Keone lowered his head and humbly solicited Jerrell's help.

"Jerrell, I cain't go out like that, B! Man, I'm beggin' you, pleeeez, you gotta help me!"

Taking a cigarette out, Jerrell lit it, deliberately stalling. Before he answered, he'd waited so long, Keone feared the offer had been withdrawn. Finally he stated,

"I tried helping yo li'l uppity ass yesterday, man, but you didn't want it."

Keone dropped his head, resigned to his fate.

"Yeah, B, so you think you ready now, huh?"

Keone nodded his head, averting his eyes.

"Naw, ain't goin be like that, homey. I gots ta hear you say you want this."

Sighing, Keone pleaded, "Jerrell, man, I need yo help, a'ight?"

"A'ight, that's the way you want it, then I'll tell you what you gotta do…."




Each day at Forester started with a mandatory shower, the wings taking shifts by race. It was actually a safety precaution learned the hard way by prison officials forced to break up too many fights. The Hispanics had the first round while the Asians and Whites took the second leaving the Blacks to take the last round, an arrangement which the Blacks frequently protested was racist.

"Somebody's gotta be last," was always the guards explanation, bringing no real satisfaction to the Blacks. Keone always hated the mandatory shower, the idea of his being naked along with a number of other teenage boys objectionable to him. First of all there was the way they were herded like cattle into the showers, 20-25 at a time. The showers were actually large cubicles each divided by tiled walls. Each stall contained 3 shower nozzles under which the naked boys had to cram and wash or rinse. There were only four of these stalls in Forester which meant that there was always going to be more than one boy under the nozzle at a time. Standing around naked, trying discreetly to wash his body, was always unsettling to Keone. Add to that the way he was always surrounded by naked boys, their dicks dangling as they lathered them up, and you had a formula for disaster.

Uncircumcised boys were in the minority at the detention center, leaving Keone certain that all the circumcised boys were gawking at his uncut dick. Trying to wash it was an extra chore as he strove to draw as little attention to the routine as possible. Standing as close as he could to one of the wide stalls walls, he'd pull his foreskin back and quickly bathe it. Where Keone was still uncomfortable being naked before such a large audience of boys, there were several other boys for which this had become a way of life. In and out of the system all their teen years, these boys thought nothing of walking around naked, sporting a raging hard-on, if they pleased. It always generated mixed fillings for Keone when he saw some brazen teen, his dick brick hard, poking it at other guys jokingly, and making lewd comments about their excited state. Trying to appear as invisible as possible, he would always pray none of them would choose him as their erotic play toy for the day, goading him with their stiff dicks and laughing.

This morning was no different, one of the boys inevitably producing a hard dick for the others to gawk and laugh at. Keone hardly saw them, however, his fear and dread growing as the hour grew closer for his appointed rendezvous with Jerrell. His better mind kept telling him he'd made an awful mistake. You don't have to wait, he reasoned. Quickly scrubbing his bubble bottom, his probing hand on his asshole suddenly reminded him of his fate if he didn't take Jerrell's solution. Feeling how sensitive his asshole was to the soap raking over it, Keone knew he'd never survive a raping. Calming his shaky nerves, he reasoned with himself, selling himself on the notion that this was the best possible arrangement.

The crowd in the showers thinned, leaving Keone one last chance to bolt. Following the plan, however, he moved next to the wall of the shower, opposite the guards. >From their position at the entrance to the showers, Jerrell had told him if he lingered close to a wall and ducked, they'd never know he was there. One by one, the boys left, until there was nothing but silence. Stooping behind the wall, Keone hoped that none of the guards would do a spot check for any stragglers.

Long after the exit door had opened and closed for the last time, Keone lingered, stooped by the wall, waiting. Stilling himself, he listened, straining to hear evidence of anyone approaching. Then, his heart leaping in his chest, he heard the door open again. Leaning against the wall, he held his breath until a pair of bare feet emerged around the stall wall. The soft peach colored texture of those long toed feet, informed him it was Jerrell. Lifting his head slowly, he took in the sinuous legs of the boy, a full fleece of hair about his calves. Standing he gazed at his taut stomach, a thin trail of hair running beneath his navel. A sparse wisp of hair was dispersed between his cherry-red nipples, the sleek sinuous pecs pushing them out. Looking into the boy's face, Keone greeted him, hopeful.

"'Sup Jerrell?"

"Ain't 'bout no talkin', right now, li'l man. Time fo' me ta get ma freak on!"

This wasn't the Jerrell he'd spent the last few days with. The boy seemed insensitive, heartless. Another boy joined them, Keone remembering that Jerrell had told him he wouldn't be alone. Jerrell had explained that he needed to bring one of his homeys along to witness Keone's actions, verifying that Jerrell didn't punk out on his part. He was a few shades darker than Jerrell, the sinewy features of his body not as slight as the boy's.

Observing the way Keone was staring at the boy, Jerrell heckled, "Yeah, you like that, don’t you?" Feigning disinterest, Keone looked away.

"It's good you do, 'cause you 'bout ta get busy with my nigga, first," Jerrell continued, indicating to the boy to approach him.

"Yo, Keone, guess I should let you know, this is Rodney. Figure you should know his name since you 'bout to get real upfront and personal wit 'em."

Rodney walked up to Keone staring him in his eyes. In a very seductive manner, the boy dropped his towel, revealing his dick. It looked to be 4 to 5 inches long, but it wasn't totally hard, yet. Keone stared at it, astonished. Although Jerrell had filled him in on the deal, he found he was frozen in his tracks, powerless to react. As he stared, the boy's dick grew, finally snapping to a hard 7 inches.

"I cain't do it, B," Keone pleaded.

"Naw, you gon' do it, now, shorty! I ain't gon' to all this trouble fo' you ta trip."

Standing beside Keone, Jerrell placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and exerted pressure, pushing him down. The sensation of the boy's hand on his bare shoulder reminded him that he was naked. Stupefied at the realization that he, Keone Hardeman, was totally naked with two strange boys, his tortured mind screamed, this cain't be happening.

Jerrell's insistent hand on his shoulder was solid proof, however, that this indeed was happening. His knees bending, Keone arrived at the boy's rock hard prong, despite his desire to not be there. For the first time in his life, Keone was face to face with a living, pulsing, fully erect, teenage dick. He stared at it fascinated at how hard, how big, how unusual it looked. Rodney's dick was circumcised, with a long shaft that tapered into a pointy head, the eye of which was staring Keone in his eye. Peering at that slit, Keone noticed a little moist pre-cum just inside it. Rodney flexed his groin muscles causing his dick to rise and fall slightly, a subtle message to Keone to get on with it, but Keone was still frozen.

"Com'on, B, we ain't got all day," Jerrell insisted. Keone stared, glued to the floor, unable to bring himself to the task at hand. Seizing his hand, Jerrell lifted it and placed it on Rodney's throbbing dick. Unconsciously, Keone's hand enclosed around the boy's dick, and somewhere deep in his thought processes, he input the sensation of its touch on the boy's silken skin.

Impatient, Jerrell demanded, "Keone, you goin do this, like it or not, so just get it over wit!"

His subconscious directing now, Keone felt himself move, slowly, deliberately toward the boy, his fingers trembling. Don't do it! His mind screamed. Resigned to his fate, Keone bit the bullet and, parting his lips, inserted his first dick into his mouth. The sensation of a mouth on his pleading dick so intense, Rodney finished the job, sliding his dick all the way inside the boy's mouth.

"Watch yo' teeth, nigga!" he yelped, jumping. I ain't never done this before, Keone thought. Wrapping his lips over his teeth, Keone slid back, drawing the length of the boy's hard dick out his mouth. I'm fuckin sucking a dick! Keone is being turned out, and sucking a dick!!

Nauseated by the knowledge of what he was doing, he attempted to free his mouth from the boy's pulsing dick. Having experienced the thrill of a mouth on his dick, Rodney wasn't having it though. Grabbing the boy's head, he guided his dick back into his mouth, inserting it deeper this time. His conscious shutting down, Keone became a detached observer of his own raping.

Over and over the boy's dick slid in his mouth, reaching deeper and deeper each time. When it lodged in his throat the first time, he saw himself gag, almost loosing his breakfast, but Rodney adeptly withdrew just enough to allow him to recover. On the very next thrust, however, he pushed it down his throat again, repeating the behavior until Keone became accustomed to its presence in his spasming throat. Closing his eyes, Keone tried to mentally remove himself from his location, but was unsuccessful. Like it or not, Keone was being punked, and was slobbering all over another boy's dick.

"Is it good?" Jerrell inquired, the sound of his voice forcing Keone's eyes open.

A breathy groan was all Rodney could offer, his building climax imminent. Sliding his dick deeper down Keone's throat, Rodney moaned, raising up on his toes. His windpipe occluded, Keone bucked his eyes, panicked as the first rush of the boy's cum darted from Rodney's dick. Helpless to free himself from the boy's pulsating dick, Keone did what he'd never admit to himself from then on… he swallowed. Hot, thick boy cum, pelted his throat, the boy fearing he'd choke on Rodney's robust flow, as he labored to swallow. Gasping, and quivering, Rodney held his dick in Keone's throat, rubbing it back and forth as it squirted.

Staring into the boy's face as he shot, Keone had the strange sensation that this was somehow… hot! Reeling, he struggled to comprehend how he could find having his throat raped, erotic. I must be goin over the edge, he concluded. In time, Rodney came back down to earth and pulled his deflating dick out of Keone's throat, leaving him feeling strangely empty. The taste of the boy's jism on his tongue engendered a mysterious thrill in Keone, frightening him. They turning me out! His panicked mind resolved. But before he could process that, Jerrell stepped up to him and promptly dropped his towel.

Keone stared aghast at the boy's dick, a dark excitement enveloping him. Oh my God! Is it really possible for a nigga to like another niggas dick? I must be one sick motha fucka, B, 'cause that's got ta be the finest dick I've ever seen!

Gaping at it, Keone scrutinized its shape, its hardness and felt his own dick growing as a result. Jerrell's golden tan dick was approximately 8 inches long, the shaft smooth and rigid. But what was most appealing to Keone was that, like himself, Jerrell was uncircumcised, a tender flap of skin covering the head. As Keone stared, his mouth salivating, Jerrell temptingly extracted his foreskin, uncovering his mushroom shaped head. But you ain't like that! Keone reasoned. You ain't 'bout dudes dicks, dog, Keone preached, striving to convince himself.

Jerrell guided his head toward Keone's mouth and, almost trance-like, Keone opened, the boy's dick sliding down his gullet. The piquant taste of the boy's leaking dick on his tongue was not repulsive this time, Keone acknowledged, his tongue practically savoring the juice. Jerrell pushed his dick into Keone's mouth, Keone making sure to wrap his lips around his teeth. Against his wishes, Keone found himself warming to the lewd act. The round head of Jerrell's dick fit his mouth so perfectly, it almost seemed symbiotic. Jerrell slowly withdrew his long dick and Keone couldn't help sucking the length of it as it passed.

"God Damn, B, you got a mouth like a bitch!" Jerrell said, oscillating his hips forward, driving his dick down the boy's throat. Keone could hardly hear the boy's comment. Something deep inside him was falling for this, falling bad. Slurping lewdly, Keone widened his mouth, allowing more of the boy's hard inches down his throat. Swirling his tongue, he tormented the boy, driving him closer to his impending orgasm. Twisting his head to the side allowed Keone to add a wicked spin on the boy's hardening dick.

Gasping, Jerrell was overwhelmed by the boy's surprisingly hot technique, his orgasm approaching too fast for him. His toes wiggling, Jerrell huffed and groaned as Keone's mouth literally suctioned the cum up from his skin tight balls. His body convulsing, Jerrell's mouth gaped open in sheer awe as his dick leaped in the boy's mouth, cum squirting out in torrents.

His knees becoming liquid, Jerrell had to grip the boy's shoulders to prevent himself from toppling over, Keone's mouth slurping, and lapping gulp after gulp of his hot, steamy cum. His body on autopilot now, his hips involuntarily gyrated, ramming his dick in and out of the boy's mouth until, finally, just before he thought he'd pass out, his issue started diminishing. But Keone's whipping tongue assaulting his dick was so intense, he soon had to jerk it out, the head aglow from the boy's fiery tongue.

Steadying himself on the boy's shoulders, he waited until the shudders ceased. As he waited, he heard Keone whimper and then felt the powerful blows of the boy's erupting dick pelting his feet. Opening his eyes he looked down just in time to see Keone's hand thrashing about the head of his dick as volley after volley of his thick, copious cum leapt from his dick, landing on his feet, his ankles, and on the floor between his feet. A couple of the spurts were so forceful, they landed on his thighs, one even hitting his dangling balls! Keone's self-absorbed action so stunned the boy, Jerrell became furious.

"This ain't 'bout you, bitch!" he accused, disgusted at the site of the boy's cum dripping off his feet and legs.

"Look at this bitch, Rodney," he raged, attempting to shake the boy's cum off his feet. Alarmed, Keone opened his eyes, looking at the boys.

"I'm sorry, Jerrell. It just happened…" But Jerrell wasn't hearing it. Leaping at the boy, he delivered a resounding whop aside his head, slinging Keone against the wall of the shower.

"Punk ass bitch!" Jerrell yelled, the next swing throwing Keone back the other way. Mercilessly, Jerrell struck the boy, blows landing on his nose, his lips, and about his eyes. Like blood in the water to sharks, the site of Jerrell beating the boy ignited Rodney's ire, causing him to join in. Trying to protect himself, Keone fell to the floor and curled his body in the fetal position, praying he wouldn't die as foot after foot belted his vulnerable kidneys, ass, and head. The sound of the struggle eventually drew the attention of a guard happening by, Keone refusing to let the boys make him cry out. The sound of the door opening so startled the boys, they literally ran out the shower, butt naked. Rushing over to him, the guard squatted and inquired,

"You alright?"

Keone could say nothing, his battered body now a mere reflection of his own battered psyche. Even after he'd been loaded on a gurney, a blanket draped over his naked body, he hadn't spoke. It wasn't until late that evening, after his wounds had been bandaged, and he was alone in the infirmary that the feelings rushed to the surface. Balling himself into the fetal position again, Keone pulled the covers over his head and silently wept, the bitter tears stinging his eyes as they trickled down his face. Eventually he cried himself to sleep, dreams of his home, his room and his friends floating in his head as he slept. Like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, Keone wished for home, his body shuddering at the overwhelming desire to not awake in this place again.




Because of the prevailing heat wave, mercilessly lingering over the city, the neighborhood pool was jumping. Children of all ages were crammed into every possible portion of the pool, jumping from the diving boards on the deep end, water splashing as they landed. The devils jumping from the sides of the pool were constantly reprimanded and warned that their privileges would soon be revoked if they continued. Boys were sneaking feels off girls at every opportunity, the crowded condition of the pool making it hard for the girls to discern who had groped them. And yes, the proverbial game of grab-ass transpired amongst the boys, beneath the surface of course.

Water splashed, kids jumped, screamed and ran, and Jordie would be glad when this was all over. He'd been spending late nights designing a new site for his latest client and was second guessing his decision to 'help out' in his neighborhood by working at the pool. Although he liked the idea of keeping the pool open for the kids, the growing demands of his business were such, he worried he might not have the time for both. The only reason the city was keeping the old pool open was because of his involvement. Knowing that if he quit, the pool would risk being shut down, he faithfully dragged himself out of bed, his big-hearted contribution to his 'hood'. The kids were always appreciative, even if they did drive him nuts at times. At some of his worst times some kid would walk up to him and say,

"Thanks for keeping the pool open, Jordie," making his day.

He could've really used one of those words of encouragement today, the pool brimming with wild kids. He'd doubled his lifeguards for the hot day, but it still was a full-time job keeping up. If he had to holler at just one more hellion, he was sure he'd drown somebody.

Walking around the pool, his tower too remote for the crowd, he bumped into Rashawn.

"'Sup, Rashawn?"

"Yo, 'sup, Jordie?"

"How long you been here?"

"I dunno, 'bout an hour or so. You didn't see me?"

"No, not today with all these fools … Stop running!!! See what I'm saying?"

"Yeah. You still having that little get together at yo' pad Saturday?"

"Yeah, you coming?"

"If I don't have to work."

"Well, stop by if you're free. Gon' have drinks, and chips and stuff. The game starts at 2:00, so you better come early if you wanna get a seat."

"A'ight. Hey, you talk to Keone, lately?"

"I tried, but he still ain't talking to me. I guess homey is still mad at me 'bout his job."

"Seem like Keone's mad at everybody, nowadays."

"Yeah, sure do. I tried talking to him but he... I don't know… different," Jordie said, frustrated.

"He said he ain't goin be nobodies punk no mo'. He said he ended up in jail 'cause he was being a punk and he gon' change that."

"Wonder what he mean by that?"

Rashawn hunched his shoulders.

"So he won't talk to you, either?" Rashawn shook his head.

"He ain't talking to nobody."

"Damn! Maybe I should see if I can get through to him again."

"I sure hope so, B. He sound like he 'bout to do something real stupid."

Looking into the boy's face, Jordie could tell that he was genuinely concerned. Trying to comfort him he said,

"I don't think Keone is that stupid man."




"You ready?"

It was Malik again. As usual he was accompanied by his flunkies Markus, Twon and Daniel. Why does this keep happening to me, Keone fretted?

"Grab that punk ass nigga then y'all, since he cain't talk."

Instantly the three boys were upon him, his panicked heart thumping. Determined to do something different this time, Keone kicked the nearest boy in the groin. Doubling over, the boy yelped. Enraged, Malik stepped up to him and delivered a punch to his mouth, blood spurting out. Knife-boy did what he always did and laid his handmade knife at the boy's jugular. Immediately freezing, Keone watched as the boy he'd kicked jumped up and delivered another blow to his face. Holding him, the boy's snatched his briefs off, laughing at his sudden nudity.

"Told you this bitch was goin like this," Malik said, pointing at the boy's stiff dick. Grabbing it, Malik tugged on the foreskin emitting a groan of delight from the horrified boy.

"Hold dat bitch, y'all, I'ma turn his pussy out. He wan'it anyway."

Struggling, Keone's feet skittered across the floor, desperately trying to free himself. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Malik's humongous dick, pulsing, aiming and he started pleading with his captors.

"Com'on y'all, let me go! Don't do this, man! MALIK!!"

His pleas unheeded, he wiggled and writhed as he felt the boy's long dick inch up his virgin ass. Screaming, he heard Malik say,

"Look at dat bitches dick! Stand back y'all, I ram my dick all the way up this pussy, he gon' shoot all over you."

Screaming and contorting on the monstrous dick, Keone watched in horror as his dick leaped, spurting out ropes of hot boy cum all over the dorm floor...

To Be Continued...