Oz Beach Boy Prison Riot Letter

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This is an entry in the HAMMERED: AN ODE TO MICKEY SPILLANE 2024 AUTHOR ORGANIZED CHALLENGE, so I'd really appreciate it if you could take the time to leave a score.

This story takes the form of a letter received by my recurring character Matt (a muscular, well-hung, sex addicted Aussie male exhibitionist in his twenties) from his father Jack "Bull" Tyson (a former American porn actor and bank robber serving several life sentences for multiple murder in California's Pelican Bay State Prison). This relationship was established in my previous story "Oz Beach Boy Looks For His Father."

In this letter, Jack recounts working with a tough young female guard to stay alive during a violent prison riot.

This is a very gritty prison romance story, and features CFNM, stripping, humiliation, reluctant consent, fellatio, cunnilingus, and sex scenes. This is a work of complete fiction, and includes extremely strong violence, much coarse, potentially offensive language, and plenty of rough prison talk. All characters are over eighteen.

I am endeavouring to write a CFNM "Oz Beach Boy" story in every Literotica category. This entry: "Romance".

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Hi Matt,

Hey, kid! How ya doing? Fuck me Jesus, thanks for your last letter. You've turned out to be an A Number 1 jose, I gotta say! You're starring in your own nude calendar? I can't believe that shit! Swinging your johnson for money! I'd like to say I'll hang it in my house when it comes out at Christmas, but that shit would be way too fucked up. I'm glad you got a lot of pussy out of the deal too. But careful, kid, next thing you'll be starring in fuck flicks like your old man...that ain't a happy road, pal, and I'd advise trying to stay right the fuck off it.

Anyway, Matt, just like my last one, this letter got snuck out with that CO I've got on a string. I've told him about every fuck I ever had with Tegan Winters, the sexy redhead porn star I told you about. This duck is fucken obsessed with her. He's a total fucken bitch for Tegan Winters. Now I've started making shit up just to keep him on the hook. But again, thanks to this duck, you're getting it straight and uncensored. This letter is all real talk, kid.

I really like writing these letters, Matt. It helps me get shit out of my system, you know? If you like reading them, I'll keep writing them. I ain't got nothin' but time, and I've got a lot of bad, fucked up shit inside me, kid. There ain't many people in here I can talk to. I've told you about my cellie Richie Ravenhawk. That motherfucker is stout as fuck but he ain't got a sensitive bone in his body. If I told him about my demons, Richie would slap my ass silly. He is one tough Apache bank robbing son of a bitch.

In this letter, I wanna spill about some shit that went down that I ain't never told nobody. If the SIS or cops knew, I'd have more fucken caught letters and probably a stint in the fucken hole too. You know me, kid, you won't be shocked. I've done bad shit outside and bad shit in here too. This letter is about the riot that ripped through Pelican Bay a bunch of years back now. I don't know if you heard about that shit down there in Australia, but it was fucked up.

I think I was around 35 or some shit when it went down. It was decades back...it's hard to keep track in here. I was hard as a fucken rock back then, fighting off fuckers coming for my ass, hauling on the weight pile, road dogging it with a few solid, unaffiliated guys, catching a ride when I could, and keeping my head down. I was tight, and my rep was solid from robbing banks and killing all those cops while I did it. I was stout.

It was about five years or some such since my boy Toby Dallas got his ass shipped out of here. I told you all about that in another letter. I'd stopped hurting, but I still missed the kid. Fuck, I still do, you know? You don't get many friends like that. It's cool you've got some buddies, Matt. Jackson and Cole and Darby sound stout. Hang onto them. You gotta have friends in this world, kid. You need fuckers that have got your back.

Around this time all those years back, Pelican Bay was on permanent boil. Convicts were pissed about conditions and all kinds of shit. Two of the biggest cars in the joint were banging, constantly fucking each other up. There were stabbings and beatings nearly every fucken day. The shower room had more blood on the floor than water. Pelican Bay was a motherfucken pressure cooker, and I did not want my shit getting fried when it popped. I wanted to keep my shit out of the action, and I managed to do that for the most part.

On the day it kicked off, my tight, much younger ass was in the possession of Captain Ramona Ramirez, that bitch Mexican CO I told you about. As you know, she liked to fuck with me, lord it over me, and bitch me in front of the other screws. Captain Ramirez also let me fuck her though, which meant that even though I was banged up, I still got pussy. She blew me too. I always had to thank that fat-assed Mexican bitch for that.

On this day, Ol' Ramona was doing one of her favourite things: showing me off in front of a young kitty new on the job. Captain Ramirez liked to strut the power she had over the convicts while also scratching her domme-bitch itches in front of a cute young kitty. I sometimes think ol' Ramona Ramirez might have liked it both ways...a bit like me!

Captain Ramirez had snuck me into a linen supply room and locked the door. At her side was Officer Jordan Laskie, who was in her first week on the job. Jordan was one hot piece of ass. She had round, sexy brown eyes, long legs, and big tits that heaved hard against her uniform, practically making the buttons strain. Her brown hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail, her lips were pouty, and she had a great ass. Whatever Captain Ramirez was gonna do to me, I was happy she was gonna be doing it in front of Officer Jordan Laskie.

"Officer Laskie, this here is Jack 'Bull' Tyson," Ramona said to the hot ass young kitty. "He's Pelican Bay's very own celebrity. Do you watch much porn, Officer Laskie?"

"Ah, no," Jordan replied. "I get enough dick...I don't have to watch porn to get a dick fix."

Officer Jordan Laskie was a smart-mouthed, confident little bitch, and I dug the shit out of her. Captain Ramona Ramirez laughed at the kitty's cocky, smart-ass answer, and then pointed her finger at me with a big smile.

"Well, if you did, you might know Handsome Jack here," Ramona said. "Jack is a porn star, and he has himself a johnson like you wouldn't believe."

"Well, I hope you're gonna make this stud drop trou so I can have a look," Officer Jordan Laskie said with a real bitchy smile.

"Oh, we're gonna make this bitch drop everything," Ramona said back with an even bitchier smile. "Every stitch. We're gonna see this punk in his birthday suit! Let's strip this bitch!"

Whooping hard, the two kitties wrenched my tight-fitting t-shirt off over my head, and then quickly got my pants down around my ankles. It wasn't worth resisting, plus I didn't give a flying fuck. I was in the cut with two bitches! I stood there gently flexing in my white boxers, my biceps and pecs popping like they were gonna burst. Ramona and Jordan checked out my rig and laughed.

"What a stud," Jordan Laskie said. "What a big hunk of man. Look at those muscles!"

"These guys are such big studs on the outside," Ramona said with a mean fucken sneer, "but in here, they're just our bitches. Look at this fucken cop killer, standing there in his panties getting laughed at by two women. If his buddies could see him now! He ain't so tough."

Sometimes I really wanted to bust Captain Ramona Ramirez in the chops. She was a fucken bitch, but I did like the female attention, even though they made me a punk. These kitties still had tits and a pussy, and I was happy to be around it. I did eventually get ol' Ramona back, but it took me a long fucken time. That shit is for a different letter though, kid!

As Jordan laughed her sweet, sexy ass off, Ramona reached out with both hands and pulled down my boxers, letting my enormous johnson out for some air. Like nearly all the bitches that eyeball my tube-steak for the first time, Jordan's eyes went wide and her sweet, wet mouth hung open. I'm sure the bitches do the same shit when they see your johnson, kid!

"Goddamn motherfucker," Jordan muttered. "This stud is hung! Look at that monster!"

"What I like," Ramona said with another real bitchy sneer, "is that we can do whatever we like to these punks!"

Ramona then reached out, pushed her hand past my big, swinging dick, got a good, firm hold on my nut-sack, and then squeezed on that shit like she was juicing a fucken lemon. I pushed back my scream and tried to stand tall, but I eventually groaned in pain.

"You can squeeze their balls for fun," Ramona said, and tightened her grip, squeezing my nuts even harder. "What are they gonna do? Complain? We've got the power in here! Their balls are ours to play with. We own their nuts now!"

With a vicious laugh, Captain Ramona Ramirez clamped down on my nut-sack, really squeezing the life out of my gonads. I was hurting bad. I watched in fear as Ramona slowly slid her nightstick out of its loop on her belt, and then handed it over to Officer Jordan Laskie. Because she was new on the job, Jordan didn't have her own stick yet.

"I'll bend this bitch over, and you fuck him in the ass with my stick," Ramona said. "Really jam it in there...as far as it will go. Fuck him like the bitch he is!"

"Fuck him in the ass?" Jordan asked. "With your nightstick? I don't think I wanna do that, Captain Ramirez. I like fucking with him and all, but I don't know about doing him in the ass."

"Don't be a bitch," Ramona spat. "You think this fucken psycho wouldn't fuck your ass in a New York minute if he had the chance? He'd rip your keister apart! Get a clue, Officer Laskie!"

"But," Jordan protested.

"I'll bend him over and spread his cheeks wide, and you ram that thing up his sweet little asshole," Ramona commanded. "Man up, sister! We gotta fuck these punks to stay on top."

"No," Jordan said. "I'm sorry, Captain Ramirez. I can't do that. I will not fuck this prisoner with your nightstick. That's a line I won't cross."

"Fuck you then, fish," Ramona said, and slapped Jordan lightly on the cheek. "I thought you had balls, but you're all yap and no sack."

Just then, I heard loud buzzing, ringing, and whooping from outside the supply room. It was the prison bells. Either there was a fire, or shit was kicking off. In a split second, Captain Ramirez was all business, thankfully distracted from fucking my ass.

As I told you, kid, I don't mind a little gay action when I'm inside, but I don't like being fucked in the ass, no fucken way. Captain Ramirez got me a few times over the years, and I never liked that shit. I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't get her stick up my ass this time.

Captain Ramirez straightened her shit, and then dragged her fat Mexican ass out of there. She told Jordan to get me back to my cell, and said she had to get out of there and see what the fuck was going on. Once Ramona split, I checked out Jordan's big tits and the way her tight pants pulled in on her pussy. I was hot for her. I was still buck naked, so I started jacking off, pulling on my johnson until it started to get hard. Jordan saw what I was doing and smiled.

"You like my titties, huh?" Jordan asked, and popped a couple of buttons. "You jack that thing while you look at my titties, Jack. But don't you lay a hand on me, got it?"

Officer Jordan Laskie was one hot, sassy bitch. I jerked on my cock until it got hard, wacking it while I looked at Jordan's incredible cleavage, the lace of her bra peeking out from the top of her uniform. She was pure sex. I wanted to fuck her so bad. I pulled and tugged on myself for about two sweet, hot-as-fuck minutes. I was so hot I couldn't help it. I was rock hard. My johnson throbbed like a motherfucker. I finally screamed and then jizzed all over the floor while Jordan smiled.

"Oooh, you sexy boy," Jordan said and then buttoned herself up. "You've come. Now let's get you back to your cell."

"Be careful, Officer Laskie," I said, and pushed past her after getting dressed. "Shit might be going on out there."

I opened the door of the supply room, and looked out into the corridor. I saw two big motherfuckers walking towards me. It was Joe and Boney, two Aryan Brothers who I had no beef with. I could hear screaming and yelling and banging down the corridors. It sounded like Pelican Bay had really lit up. Joe and Boney eyeballed me and walked over.

"Hey, Bull," Joe said and nodded his head. "We saw Ramirez and Laskie with you before. The Mexican bitch hooked up with some other COs and beat it the fuck out of here, but we haven't seen the other big titted bitch. Do you know where she is?"

"We want her ass," Boney added, just in case I didn't get it. "We want to fuck her ass."

"Fuck, me too," I responded, not bullshitting one little bit. "I'd like to tap her ass and suck those big titties. Her and Ramirez rousted me for white and then fucked off when the alarms blew before they got my shit. I was just doing a hit in the cut. What the fuck's going on?"

"Leon D's car finally went to fucking war with DJ Mac's," Joe replied. "They blew up in the yard and then it went crazy. Everyone started ripping shit to pieces. We've just been kicking ass and looking for pussy or fish. You on your lonesome, Bull? You ain't with that fucken redskin?"

"Nah, it's just me," I replied. "I don't know where Richie is."

"Probably beating the fucken shit out of someone somewhere," Joe said.

"Cover your ass, Bull Tyson," Boney added, and the two Aryan Brothers walked off. "We're on a pussy hunt!"

I slipped back into the linen supply room, and laid it out for Jordan. I told her she was being hunted, and if we stayed there, she'd get made, and then she'd have a train pulled on her five miles long. Jordan was one tough kitty. She didn't cry or net up or even lose her shit.

I pitched her the only plan I had. I had to get Jordan the fuck out of there and to the sallyport where the other COs or cops could catch her. We'd have to haul ass down tiers and past other convicts. We'd have to run and fight the whole way. I could have sold Jordan out, but she'd stopped me from taking an ass-fucking, and if she got caught, she'd likely be killed too, or fucked up so bad she'd never come back from it. I'm a fucken asshole, sure, but I didn't wanna see that shit go down.

"I can handle myself," Jordan said.

"Good," I said. "Stick tight to me, but we're gonna have to fight. Shit is gonna get real, sister."

I looked around the linen supply closet. I grabbed some pillow cases, and a hospital gown, which I tossed to Jordan. She pulled it on over her uniform, which would give us a little protection from being made. I pulled my sleeves down, and pulled on a couple of pairs of black latex gloves from a cleaners' trolley. I then pulled up my long hair, and wrapped the pillow cases around my head, tying that shit up tight.

"What the fuck are you supposed to be?" Jordan asked with a smile. "Super Cock?"

"I don't wanna get made," I shot back hard. "If I get made for helping a screw, I'm fucked...and double fucked because you're a kitty. I need to hide my face, and my ink...anything that can make me. These convicts want your pussy and your ass. They will fuck you hard."

"Thanks, Jack," Jordan said, suddenly dropping into real talk. "You're really hanging your balls over a fence for me here. I know that."

I couldn't believe how fucken tough Jordan Laskie was. This kitty was being hunted, and she was still cracking wise, fucking with my shit, and making fun of my johnson. If any kitty could get out of this, it would sure as fuck be her. This bitch was stout as all fuck. I was fucken impressed.

"Okay, Officer Jordan Laskie, let's haul ass," I said, and we slipped out of the linen supply room and into the corridor.

We booked it fast down the empty corridor, but after this, I knew shit was about to get real. We'd soon hit Tier AG31, and that was home to some badass motherfuckers. They wouldn't all be there, with a bunch likely in the yard, and others on the prowl for action somewhere else. But there'd still be fuckers there, no doubt. We hit the corner, and got set to turn.

"Handle your shit, sister," I said. "It's gonna get hot."

I ran hard down Tier AG31, and Jordan didn't pause for a second beside me. Our feet slapped hard on the concrete floor, and once we were about halfway down, we got made by some black convicts smoking bats and laughing outside someone's house. They saw us running and then turned to look at us. I didn't know these fuckers from shit, but they looked like violators and not fish. We were in it.

"It's a bitch," one of the black convicts yelled. "He's running with a bitch, yo! UPS Special Delivery to AG31...pussy!"

The brothers grouped and then came at us. I don't even know how many there were. I threw down with everything I had, fists, elbows, knees, feet and even my motherfucken head. Skin got split, bones got cracked, and brothers went down. I bounced one motherfucker so hard with my head that his whole nose mashed and spread across his face in a blood spray.

Right next to me, Jordan worked her elbows and knees, and dropped some boot-shots hard into exposed knees. The crazy kitty even shoulder tossed one brother when he ran at her too hard and too fast. Jordan Laskie could fucken move and she could fucken fight. We dropped a bunch of brothers between us, but we took a lot of hits too. My body ached and there was blood on the pillow cases around my head.

As we hit the end of Tier AG31, I head-stomped some of the motherfuckers on the deck so they wouldn't book it after us. We ran past the house the brothers had been hanging outside and I looked in. There was a young fish inside, fucked up, bleeding, naked, and moaning in pain. I had enough on my hands with Jordan, so we kept moving. I didn't like seeing kids fucked up like that, but my shit was on spin, and I didn't have time to play Good Samaritan.

We got off the tier, turned a corner, and then saw a huge crew of brothers heading our way. We were right near the library, so I pushed on the door, but it was locked. I punched it and cursed, and then the door slowly opened. An OG by the name of Aloha Dave stuck his head out.

"Bull?" Aloha Dave asked. "Is that you? I heard you cussing. I know that voice. I know details."

I pulled down my pillow case mask and quickly pushed my way in. I dragged Jordan with me by the hand. Aloha Dave was a stout motherfucker. He was a bunch older than me, and he had a hard rep for pulling a run of bank jobs in fucken Honolulu of all places, hence his handle. He took down armored cars in LA too, and that landed his white ass in Pelican Bay.

Aloha Dave was an OG, and way too old to get into any shit. Ol' Dave had also made himself a hot commodity inside as the writer of hot-as-fuck sex stories, which he'd bang out in return for favors. A motherfucker might ask Ol' Dave, for instance, to write a story in which they break out of the joint and then somehow fuck that sexy pop star Emily Miller. Then Aloha Dave would bang it out like he was Stephen King or some shit. His stories were so hot and so real and so detailed that motherfuckers lined up for that shit.

Once we were inside, I looked around the library. There were a bunch of programmers in there, real straight motherfuckers, guys who stayed right out of everything. They weren't bitches or punks, but they took classes, read books, and kept out of it. Kinda like me now that I'm old and an OG, but not back in the day.