Originally published in Honcho magazine - April, 1994

Serving extra hard time...

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I woke up early with my usual hard-on. The cell block was quiet. My cellmate Drake was also awake. He looked over at me and said, "Today's the day, Davie. Do you think it's really going to happen?"

I was slow answering. "I can only hope so," I finally said.

It had started three years earlier when I was twenty-two and those prison gates had closed behind me. I'd been sent up because I was with some friends when they tried to rob a liquor store. Back then I was scared shitless and the future looked bleak. Then Frank had come into my life.

Frank was fourteen years older than me, thirty-six at that time. He was six-foot-two and weighed around a hundred and ninety. With dark hair and brown eyes, he had a handsome face. He was tough as steel and most of the cons found it best to stay clear of him. I might have been one of them, but the big guy had had ideas of his own.

Frank had chosen me to take care of one of his needs. For three years, practically under the noses of the guard, I'd been keeping him happy. Whenever Frank got horny, he'd give a signal. I would follow him to whatever out-of-the-way place was convenient. He'd drop his pants and shorts and I'd go to my knees and give him what he wanted.

During the process I'd developed a real affection for Frank. I was more than happy to be sucking his cock. Hell, I would have stayed in prison the rest of my life just to keep that going. Frank was my man! But time passed and I was nearing the end of my sentence, and Frank was also near the end of his.

One day I had to ask him: "When we get out, can we get together?"

"Sure," Frank answered. "You've been keeping my dick happy. There'd be no point in stopping now."

Today was the day. In a matter of hours, I would find out if Frank meant what he'd said. If we could walk away from the prison and into life on the outside together.

Drake knew what was going on. When I told Drake what Frank had said, he didn't believe that Frank was serious. "The first night," Drake said, "he'll go looking for pussy. Blow-jobs are fine when you're locked up, but a guy like Frank'll want to fuck a woman."

Of course, I was hoping that Drake was dead wrong. I was looking ahead to that night outside. I had never seen Frank naked. I'd only seen him with his pants and shorts partway down his legs. I would fondle his balls and wrap my fingers around his hard meat while I sucked it. We always had to be alert, listening for sounds. How great it was going to be, naked in a bed with him and not worrying about anything else.

Anticipation was great. I wrapped my fist around my stiff cock. I couldn't help myself.

"Your final jack-off behind bars, huh?" Drake asked.

"Yeah," I answered. "Maybe tonight I'd be able to jerk off while I gave Frank his pleasure."

Drake said, "Look, as long as you're leaving, how about swinging on this joint?"

"Uh-uh," I answered. "Frank wouldn't want me to." While my cellmate and I both jerked off, I imagined myself kneeling between Frank's legs.

Later that day, Frank and I and four others being paroled went through the process. We ended up at the front gate. It opened and closed behind us, then we got onto the bus heading for a nearby town. The comments, the conversations, had one theme: getting pussy that night. Frank didn't join in. There was still hope.

As the bus pulled into the station in town, Frank leaned over and put his hand on my leg. "Look, Davie, I appreciated all the head you gave me," he said softly. With that he got up and walked to the front of the bus.

A woman ran up to meet him as he stepped down. Their arms went around each other and their lips met.

The future had blown up in my face. *You should have expected that*, a voice said.

Scott Tabor, another of the guys from our cell block, stood in the aisle. At twenty-eight, Scott was three years older than me. He was as tall as Frank at six-foot-two but weighed nowhere near as much. Blond and blue-eyed, he had a pleasant though not quite handsome face. Scott had served time for beating up on his wife and the guy he'd found fucking her.

Scott got straight to the point. "I've known all about what's been going on," he said. "How about letting me take Frank's place tonight?"

"What about your wife?" I asked without thinking.

"Fuck her and all women!" Scott spit out. He reached down and rubbed his crotch. "I'd rather you take care of this for me."

I looked out the bus window again. Frank and the woman were walking away arm in arm. Frank didn't give a damn about my feelings for him. Despite myself, I remembered seeing Scott's hard, smooth body in the prison showers. "Okay," I finally said.

It was early afternoon. Scott didn't want to wait for nightfall. He said that he had waited long enough, hoping that Frank and I would have a falling out. He bought a bottle and we checked into a cheap hotel. On the elevator to the third floor, Scott took hold of my hand and pulled it to his crotch. "See," he said, "it isn't only the elevator that's going up."

The room was sort of dreary, with a worn rug and faded wallpaper, but there was a bed and we were alone. We could strip naked and not have to worry about someone catching us at it.

Scott was lighter than Frank, but he had a good build. And when he stripped he definitely outdid Frank in one department. At least eight and a half inches of nicely thick meat stuck up from his blond thatch, pressing against his hard, corrugated belly. All in all, Scott was a great hunk of manhood.

I took in that male beauty and my earlier disappointment was on the way to being forgotten. My own dick, not quite seven inches, was rock-hard.

Scott climbed onto the bed and rolled over onto his back. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around the base of his stiff joint. "For starters," he said, "how about sucking this thing for me?"

I couldn't refuse. That was a really great hunk of meat on a guy I was already beginning to like. I crawled onto the bed between his legs, then took hold of his balls with one hand and the base of his joint with the other.

I took his dick until the head went to my throat. I backed off and started sucking. "Oh, yeah," Scott groaned out, "that's what I've been waiting for. Suck my cock, Davie; suck it. That fucker's been waiting for your mouth."

I kept sucking on that lusty dick, thoroughly enjoying it. It was longer and thicker than Frank's. Scott seemed to be enjoying it in a different way, too. Above all, he wasn't just standing with his pants and shorts down, getting his dick serviced because he was horny. Outside those prison walls, with women all around, he was letting me suck him off because he wanted it.

My cellmate Drake had said that I was Frank's "sex slave." I had argued against it, but I guess he was right. Frank had used me to satisfy his horniness. I didn't feel like a sex slave sucking on Scott's hefty manhood.

I had good feelings about Scott. I was sucking his cock because he was a real hunk of a guy and I wanted to give him pleasure.

Naked between his legs, I nursed that beautiful piece of meat and played with his balls. I gave his dick-head some attention from time to time and then went back to sucking dick. I kept at it until Scott couldn't help himself. He started fucking my mouth. Gently at first, feeding me dick as I went for it, withdrawing as I pulled upward, feeding it to me again, cock and mouth working together. His hands moved up to my shoulders, and then to my head. He held my head tightly and started fucking with more enthusiasm, driving his big plunger in and out of my mouth. Finally he cried out, "It's cumming! Take it!"

He thrust his cock-head to my throat and a torrent of thick, sweet-tasting jizz spewed out of his throbbing prick. I swallowed it hungrily and sucked for more.

Scott fell back against the bed. His dick slowly went soft as I sucked the last of his juices out of it. "Yeah, Davie, that was good. Let's rest awhile, then go back to making up for lost time."

The hotel was so dumpy that it didn't have ice-machines. Scott poured bourbon and water into glasses, and we drank it that way. But dumpy as the place was, and warm as the drinks were, I was as happy as I would have been at the Waldorf Astoria. Like a dream come true, only with a different guy. Naked in a room with that well-built and well-hung guy. The feel of his hard prick still in my mouth and knowing there was more to come. It was better than it would have been with Frank. It looked like the bastard had done me a favor.

Scott sprawled in the lone chair with his legs spread. I was sitting on the edge of the bed. While we talked, I kept looking up between his legs. It was a beautiful sight.

We drank and talked slowly. Finally, Scott said "You want to come over and get this thing ready again, Davie?"

I got down between his long legs. I kissed his dick. I licked and tongued it, and it started growing again. Slowly stretching out and thickening. Before long it reached full size. I ran my mouth slowly up and down it. By that time I had another hard-on, too.

Scott said, "As good as you give head, I'd like to fuck you this time. Okay?"

I looked at his big prick. I hadn't been fucked in over three years. But I knew that there was no question about it. If Scott wanted to fuck me, I was going to let him. Even if it hurt.

I went over to the bed and got on my belly. Scott ran his finger up and down my crack, then shoved his finger into me. "Some nights," he said, "I'd beat off pretending I was fucking your young ass. It feels like it's going to be even better than I thought."

He pulled his finger out of my butthole and crawled onto the bed, straddling me at the hips. He started humping slowly. His dick-head broke through my tight pucker. It felt like he had shoved fire into me. But Scott didn't stop.

He started slowly pounding his meat to me, and before long I was getting his full eight and a half inches with each stroke, his balls bouncing against mine. I was getting fucked and it was great!

In prison, a guy who shows weakness is called a *lame*. I had acted macho enough that I'd never been labeled that way. Scott and Drake were probably the only guys who knew that I was regularly sucking Frank's dick. But now I'd really enjoyed sucking Scott's big dick, and I loved having it pumped in and out of my tight ass. If that was being a lame, then I was lame.

Scott started humping faster, his big prick sliding in and out like a well-lubricated piston. His balls tightened up into his groin, but I could still feel them brushing against mine. Then he started ramming that long cock into me harder than ever. Another load of thick, creamy spunk started spewing out of it. It filled my ass. Some seeped out from around his throbbing prick and ran down over my balls.

Scott didn't move. His joystick was still inside me, but it was beginning to soften. Finally he raised up slowly, pulling out of my ass. "Yeah," he said, "that was a good fucking. Better than I'd even hoped for."

I rolled over onto my back. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I was afraid to. Then he surprised me. Scott wrapped his fingers around my still-hard pecker. "This is the only way I'm likely to do it," he said, "but I'm going to make you cum, too."

He started slowly stroking my dick and didn't stop until sprayed a load of my own all over my belly.

"We'll finish these drinks," he said, "then go get something to eat. By the time we get back, my dick will be ready to get hard again."

I remembered how during those prison years Frank had practically ignored me until he got horny. When that happened he'd give his signal and I'd follow him. We'd go to some corner, he'd drop his pants and I'd go to my knees and give him what he wanted. That had been all right by me. But now I was being treated differently.

I had to ask. "Scott, is this going to be just for tonight?"

Scott looked at me, then reached down and lifted his limp cock between thumb and forefinger. "We'll see what happens, but for now I'd say you've been sentenced for life."

THE  END