Page 42 of The Trailer Park Twink

I didn’t sign up for this. Any of it. The unnecessary pat down by an utterly unattractive male prison guard.

Having a cavity search performed five minutes after arriving, even if it was done by Dallas in the small lobby bathroom as I moaned, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” while he milked a load out of me as someone urinated in one of the stalls.

It’s not like it’s my fault. He’s wearing his super-sexy cowboy hat, and it really gets me going.

In all honesty, I would have rather he unloaded in my ass, but after Dallas found one of Mom’s old needles in our bedroom closet at the cabin, accidentally pricking himself in the process, he refuses to fuck me without a condom, repeatedly proclaiming he’s been put at risk, and he refuses to put me at risk too.

I’ve been on PrEP since Tatum and I started dating, so I’m not really worried, but it puts him at ease, so we can use them as long as we have to for him to feel comfortable.

I won’t lie though—I miss being bred. Miss feeling him burst inside me, stuffing me like a grilled cheese.

His test results came back negative, and he’s taking PrEP now, too, so it probably won’t be much longer until I get to feel him claim me again.

He wants to do another test just to be sure, but the only thing Daddy is doing in the process is testing my patience, and it isn’t right.

As a matter of fact, it’s basically barbaric.

No worries. I’ll have Daddy’s bare cock in me soon enough.

Well, that’s if Deirdre doesn’t kill me first. When we returned to Texas to pick up the rest of our acapella group, Deirdre was absolutely furious, telling me I’m lucky she hasn’t framed me for a grievous atrocity that would put me behind bars for a decade.

Then she hugged me and said she missed me bunches.

I still catch the hint of an unsettled score in her smile, and I know she’s probably waiting to deliver a metaphorical knock-out punch when I’m least expecting it. I’ll get her back though. I always do.

Daddy, Ezzy, Bubba, and I spent two weeks at the cabin, and in those two weeks, I’d been more sexually satisfied than ever before.

Daddy tends to my needs in the way I always knew he would, treating me like a little dove when I’m feeling fragile, and fucking the breath out of me when I need that instead.

We were in contact with Deirdre, Jamie, and Brian throughout our trip, so I don’t know why she’s been so grumpy.

We practiced for hours, fine-tuning our performance via Skype.

We’ve got the dance moves nailed, but when Ezzy told Deirdre he was still working on costume designs, and she broke the news that she already had them covered.

Covered, my ass. This outfit covers absolutely nothing.

I should’ve listened to Ezra when he said she didn’t know her way around a pair of fabric scissors.

She’s not the only one. I didn’t even know fabric scissors are a thing.

She promised us they would be stunning. “Much better than the shitty double-denim Ezra wanted to style you in.” Those were her words.

Now, I realize being a fabulous female surrounded by a gaggle of well-meaning gays does not always make one a fashionista, because instead of a Britney-themed costume, she’s simply packed each of us a pair of white hotpants that show our less-than-stellar cocks, full outline and all, and pink crop tops that say, “You have the right to remain fierce.” She’s also insisting we all wear hideous pink bandanas.

What the shit does she even want me to do with this thing?

Am I meant to wear it on my head? Does it get tied around my wrist, looped into a pretty bow? We all look fucking stupid.

Deirdre, on the other hand, is dressed to the nines in a full-length sequined gown, looking like a fucking vision. She’s waiting impatiently for us in the prison lobby, but she’s let me down in a way I’ve never been let down before, so she can keep waiting a little while longer, because, rude!

Perfect. Just fucking perfect. We’re performing for a group of incarcerated homosexuals in less than ten minutes, and she has us looking like a slutty, busted-up version of Gladys Knight and the Pips, but I’m not a fucking Pip. I’m a princess, problematic though my behavior may be.

Unfortunately, she’s not the only one who let me down today.

As I smooth the fabric of my crop top, I look at Daddy through the public restroom’s mirror and cock an eyebrow.

“Ezra will pay for this. He said we would be given the VIP treatment. The word champagne may have even been mentioned, but all I’ve been given since arriving here is endless sass and a bad attitude from my best friend.

We don’t even have a dressing room; I’m just expected to disrobe in a public bathroom where any Tom, Dick, or Harry could walk in and catch a peek at my privates. ”

“I’ll break their fuckin’ face,” Daddy growls, his eyes glued to my ass. “You look beautiful, Aussie.”

“Well, that goes without saying...” My cheeks burn as I look over my shoulder and smile.

“But thank you for saying it.” I stand on my tippy-toes and kiss his cheek.

“And you’re fuckable in whatever you’re wearing, so the feeling is very much mutual.

” I step back and stare down at the hotpants, sighing.

“ I don’t know if my outfit is appropriate, though.

These men have been out of society for decades.

They’re living life in lock-up, and here we come, teasing them with our bubble butts and unparalleled vocal abilities. It just seems cruel.”

Daddy snorts, giggling a little louder than the situation calls for, but that’s fine. He’s just enthusiastic. Love that about him. “Baby, there are fifty queer men here, all rooming together, essentially. Do you really think they’re not getting their needs tended to regularly?”

“I just wish we knew a little more about them going in. You don’t think they’re murderers, do you? I mean, you think this is safe, right?”

He nods, blinking just a little slower than usual. “You’re always safe when you’re with me.” His eyes droop lower and his goofy smile widens.

“Daddy? Are you okay?”

He takes a step back and blinks a few times, taking his hat off and staring inside it. “Aussie? What—what’s going on? My face feels fuzzy.”

His eyes are a little bloodshot, but that could just be because I kept him up half the night, riding his cock like it was an unstoppable pogo stick.

I drained his balls three times. It would have been four, but Daddy couldn’t come during the final round, so he had to hold me for two more hours, telling me it was okay, and that it wasn’t because of me, his cock was just spent.

“Do you feel sick?”

He shakes his head and places his hat back on his head. “A little lightheaded, maybe.” He cranes his neck and glances around the bathroom before busting the most beautiful, carefree grin. “A lot lightheaded, actually.”

The toilet flushes behind us, startling me. I didn’t realize anyone else was in the room. The stall door opens, and Ezra walks out, heading toward the sink.

“I sedated him,” he says matter-of-factly.

“I knew if any of the prisoners looked at you with a single ounce of lust in their eyes, your father would kill them, so I drugged his soda with THC oil. He should be stoned out of his mind in no time. Crisis averted. You’re welcome.

And I heard what you said about me, telling Dallas I’ve given you sass.

” He points a finger in Daddy’s direction, and I kind of want to snap it in half, because no one points their finger in Daddy’s face. “How fucking rude.”

I shake my head, because he’s not shifting the blame in this situation.

“You drugged Daddy. He doesn’t have a medical marijuana license, and we are literally in a prison.

If any of the guards notice, they’ll lock him up and throw away the key.

It’s Texas, Ezra. It’s like living in a modern-day Stone Age.

They don’t care if he’s unintentionally swallowed THC or if he’s snorting black tar heroin—”

“Can you snort black tar heroin? I always assumed it was a dark, thick goo. Hence the name.”

“Hence, go fuck yourself,” I retort, flinging my hands in the air. “I don’t know what the hell it looks like. Do I look like someone who would know what black tar heroin is?”

He shrugs. “Well, I just figured, because of your mom...”

I pause, chewing my cheek. “You’re right. I can understand why you would make that assumption. I apologize for flying off the handle.”

Someone groans in the last stall at the end of the bathroom. “Would you two shut the fuck up? I’m trying to take a shit in private!”

I almost fucking vomit, and Dallas must see the disgust on my face, because he whirls on his heel and marches to the stall, delivering a furious blow to the wooden door.

Thankfully, he doesn’t destroy the stall door, because I’m sure that would draw the attention of a disgruntled guard, and then they’d see Daddy’s glassy eyes and take him away from me.

“Show a little fuckin’ class, asshole. No one wants to hear about your bowel movements.”

“Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?” the man asks before letting a rather loud toot out, and then there’s an undeniable sound of something plopping into water .

“I don’t give a good-God-damn who you are. You could be the fuckin’ pope and I’d still lay your ass out for making my boy queasy.”

There’s a rather loud sound that I’d rather not describe, and it shatters the last of my strength. “Oh, dear God,” I say, pulling my crop top up so I can cover my mouth and nose. “He’s defecating right in front of me, Daddy. Make it stop.”

“Clench those fuckin’ cheeks, asshole,” Daddy growls. “Don’t ever shit in front of my boy again.” He turns to me with an intense look in his bloodshot eyes. “You want me to fuck him up, Aussie? I will.”