Date: Thu, 16 Feb 2017 23:13:23 -0500 (EST)
From: HENRY BROOKS <hankbrookscc@comcast.net>
Subject: The Prisoner and His Guard

The Prisoner and His Guard

So let me tell you how I, Dylan Scott, fucked up my life when I was only
thirty-two years young.

I had it all: a great, but very stressful job; two terrific twin sons,
Kevin and Karl, aged six; a spacious suburban home; and a beautiful wife.
She was a bit of a nag, so that would be the only flaw in my perfect life.
No matter how much money I made, it was not enough for her.

I have an MBA, and I was the CEO of a publicly listed company.  At my age
that was a miraculous achievement.  I had to commute daily from the suburbs
to my office.  It was an hour on the railroad, but well worth it.

My next door neighbor, Ben Holliman, commuted with me.  Ben was a stock
broker and financial advisor.  When we reached Manhattan, he took a subway
downtown to the financial district, and I walked to my midtown office.
Occasionally, we were lucky enough to be on the same commuter train going
home.  As you can imagine we became really good friends.

Ben's life paralleled mine.  Like me, he had it all.  The difference was
that he was two years older than I, and had three young children.  He even
confided in me that his wife was a royal pain in the ass, always hounding
him about one thing or another.  It seemed he could never satisfy her, in
or out of bed.  I confessed to the same problem.

I trusted him with all my investments, and he was my stockbroker.  His
investment philosophy---for men as young as we were---was to be very
aggressive.  As a result he was making me lots and lots of money.  I never
questioned his buys and sells, and therein lay my mistake.  Sometimes he
had me sign a paper consenting to a buy or sell transaction, and other
times, he didn't.  I should have wondered about that, but I trusted him
completely.

One fine morning, he and I, along with several others, were arrested for
insider trading.  Ben received ten years, but his clients got two years
each.  The judge bought our defense that we had left it all up to him, and
we were innocent victims. He would have released us with a fine, but we had
all signed a document approving the transactions, and so he was required to
mete out some punishment.

My wife immediately started divorce proceedings, and she requested sole
custody of the kids, and most of my assets.  Since I was a felon, her
request for sole custody was granted.  Upon my release from prison, I would
have to begin paying alimony and child support.

Fortunately, Ben and I went to different prisons, or I might well have
killed him.  I went to a minimum security facility, and he went to a
maximum security facility.  He had committed a white-collar crime, and as
much as I hated him, I thought that maximum security was a bit of a
stretch.

I arrived at the prison with one other `guest.'  I was shaking in my boots
and resisting the urge to shit in my pants. The bus driver handed us over
to a very husky looking guard.  The guard told us that his name was Joe
Garcia, and our first stop was to the supply room, where we were issued our
prison garb.  From there he took us to our cells.  I was delighted to learn
that there was only one inmate per cell.  The other guy was assigned to a
cell directly across the passageway from me.

Joe told us to leave our civilian clothes in the cell and come with him.
He dropped the other guy off at the prison laundry, and introduced him to
the prisoner in charge.  Apparently he had been assigned to prison laundry
duty.  Next he took me to the commissary and introduced me to the lead
prisoner.  It appeared that I had been assigned there.  My "boss" did not
appear to be too threatening and I relaxed some.  He told me that my duties
would be to assist the cooks, serve the chow line, and clean up afterwards.
Cleaning up included both the kitchen and the commissary.

When we were finished with our duties, and had eaten our own meals, my
fellow cafeteria workers and I, along with the rest of the inmates, had two
hours to play cards or pool, watch TV, or just sit and read.  At 9 PM, a
bell rang, reminding me of my high school days.  That was the signal to
return to our cells.  After we were all inside, the grille gates closed and
locked automatically.

The cell was quite civilized.  The mattress on the cot was nice and thick.
I had a dresser with a mirror, a commode, a chair, and a sink.  The first
thing I did was take a leak.  Then I undressed down to my boxers.  It was
way earlier than my usual bedtime, but I reckoned that we would be awakened
way earlier than my usual wake up time, as well.

During the "social hour," I picked up a newspaper in the library. I settled
down to read it, and much to my surprise, I heard a deep sexy voice call my
name.  I was startled.  I looked up to see a prison guard standing outside
my cell.  He was holding a clip board, and I assumed that it was his
roster.  What happened next confused the shit out of me.

The guard put his hand through the bars of my cell.  "Hello," he said, "my
name is Sam Wright.  I'm the night guard.  If you have any problems, just
push that red button."  He pointed to the button, which I hadn't noticed it
before.  "Also Dylan," he continued, "I want you to know that I read about
your case in the newspapers, and I don't personally believe you should be
here.  I'll try to make your stay as stress free as I can."

I was grateful for that.  I reached out to return his handshake, and I
looked at him.  He was well over six feet.  His hair was a sandy blond, and
his eyes were brown.  He was very muscular.  I worked out regularly (used
to) and I had a good body, but I envied his.  He seemed reluctant to let go
of my hand, but eventually he did, and he disappeared to go do whatever it
was he did all night.

After he left, I read for a while longer. I shut my lamp and attempted to
sleep, but it was much too early for me.  I grew restless in bed and I
began to worry.  I was eligible for parole in thirteen months, but whether
I was released in thirteen months or two years, I would be an ex con.
Would anybody hire me?  I suddenly felt very sorry for myself, so I got up
and began to pace my cell.  I figured I could use the exercise.  Once again
I was startled by Ben's voice.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.  "Everyone has trouble sleeping at the beginning.
You'll sleep better when you get settled in."

"On the outside," I answered him, "I don't go to sleep until midnight.
I'll have to get used to lights out at nine."

"Until that happens, would you like to play some cards with me?  It gets
pretty quiet here at night."

"I'd like that," I answered immediately.

He took his keys out and opened my gate.  "Do you play gin rummy?" he
asked.

"Of course," I replied.

I relit my lamp, and we sat down on my bed.  He took a deck of cards out of
his hip pocket.  He told me that he made rounds every two hours, and if I
wanted to, he would like to play with me every evening during his first
break.  Stupid me, I never picked up on his innuendo.

During the game, I admitted that I was very pleased that there was only one
prisoner per cell.  "I appreciate my privacy," I said.

Sam started to laugh and slapped my knee.  "You'll appreciate it more when
some of these guys come on to you.  This is a minimum security prison, and
I've never heard of anyone getting raped, but I know for a fact that
there's a lot of consensual gay sex going on.  Even straight guys, who have
reached the limits of horniness, will join in the action."  All the while
he told me this, his hand remained on my knee.

"I'll whack off before I'd do that," I stated a little too loudly and
adamantly.

"That'll do you for a while, but believe me, one day you'll want a warm
loving body lying next to you."  Sam's hand had never left my knee, and it
seemed to have moved up my thigh a few inches.  He finally removed it, when
he had to deal a new hand.

After he left, I finally crawled into bed, attempting to get some sleep.
That's when it finally dawned on my thick brain that Sam was hinting that
he wanted to have sex with me, but only if it was consensual.  I knew I
should have been revolted, but it struck me that it wouldn't hurt to have
this handsome guard looking out for my welfare.  Another reason I wasn't
revolted is that I had a few gay sexual encounters in college.  I never
thought for one minute that I might be gay, but the sex was very enjoyable.

I couldn't concentrate on my duties the next day.  All that was on my mind
was Sam's hints and innuendoes.  I thought that when we played gin rummy
this evening, I would subtly let him know that I was interested.  Then I
began to shiver.

What if I was misreading his attempt to be friendly? What if it was just
that, and not a come on?  He might hate me, and he could make my life hell.
I decided to go very slowly, and pretend I didn't notice his advances.

When he came into my cell that evening, I almost ran to embrace him, but I
controlled myself.  Instead I used a different ploy.  The previous evening
I was wearing my boxer shorts, when he came into my cell.  The fly clasp
was securely snapped in place.  This evening, I made sure that the clasp
was unsecured.  When we sat down on my bed, my boxers would gap, and Sam
was sure to get a glimpse of my pubes, if not a little bit of my cock.  My
pubes are trimmed and my cock is four and a half inches when flaccid, and
seven and a half inches when hard.  It is uncut and very wide around.  The
rest of me is worth bragging about also.  I am 6'2" tall, and I have a
great body.  My hair and my eyes are both brown.

When he entered my cell, he handed me two new decks of cards.  "Keep them
here," he said.  "That way I don't have to carry them with me all the
time."

"Does that mean that this is going to be a regular game?"  I asked.

"You betcha," he answered.

I decided to act on my impulses and I got a little bit bold.  "Sam," I
asked, "why are you being so nice to me?"

"I'll tell you," he said.  "If we were sitting in my living room, I'd never
admit what I am about to tell you.  You'd pick yourself up and run away.
It's different here.  You're a captive audience, so to speak."

I knew what he was going to say, so I smiled at him as a way of encouraging
him.  "Are you ever going to come to the point?" I asked.

"Yes, I have a confession to make.  I'm gay.  For your information, I'm out
of the closet everywhere except at work.  I think you can figure out why.
The minute I laid eyes on you, I lost my heart.  You look exactly like the
man of my dreams.  You told me that you would jack off before you would
have gay sex.  I swear I'll never come on to you, but I will come by every
day to visit with you.  Who knows?  Maybe someday you'll have a change of
heart.  If you do, or when you do, I promise to take you to paradise."

I was so overwhelmed that I reached into him and gave him a chaste kiss on
his lips.  His smile threatened to break his jaw.

"This is all new to me," I lied. "Let me think about it."

"Once again let me make it perfectly clear," he said.  "I promise to take
you to paradise."

After Sam left, I turned off my light and tried to sleep.  I tossed and
turned for quite a while before I finally fell asleep.  I have no idea what
time it was when I woke up, but for sure, it was the middle of the night, I
had been dreaming that somebody was giving me a blow job.  My wife never
did that, but I knew how it felt from my few college encounters.  While I
was in the twilight zone, I remember thinking how wonderful it felt.  When
I awoke completely, I was aware that my boxers had been pulled down, and a
real live human being was down on me.  I was certain that I knew who it
was, but I whispered in the dark, "Sam is that you?"

Sam stopped his labors and slid up to me.  That was when it happened.  He
kissed me.  He forced my lips apart with his tongue, and our lips began to
tickle each other.  As our lips and tongues continued to copulate, it
struck me like a thunderbolt.  I was in love with Sam.  I could only wonder
if I had been gay all my life.  For sure this was the first time since I
met my wife that I was enjoying having sex.  How could that be?  The answer
came to me very quickly.  Sam wasn't having sex with me.  He was making
love with me.

It was a tight fit, but the two of us could lie facing each other on my
bed.  "Please," I begged, "lower your trousers.  You can't have all the
fun."

I heard a sigh come from his lips.  "I knew it," he said.  "I knew you felt
the same way I did."

He turned around until he was in a sixty-nine position, and he took me into
him once again.  I screwed up my courage, and I took his cock into me.  Why
had I ever hesitated or been grossed out by fellatio?  Sam tasted like
freshly baked cinnamon rolls to me.  We got each other off rather quickly
and we both swallowed everything, so there was no mess.

Sam slipped out of bed and got dressed.  I put on my boxers.  He kissed me
and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."  This time, happy and content, I fell
asleep immediately.

For six months Sam continued to visit me after lights out.  On our second
night together, he brought condoms and lube with him and he taught me how
to fuck.  To this day I haven't decided if I prefer fucking or getting
fucked.  I decided to remain versatile, and Sam feels the same way.

One day, he asked what my plans were after I got out.  I told him that I
had no plans other than to get a job.  "I'll try to help you," he said, and
I kissed him hard.

We were served a very traditional meal for Thanksgiving.  After my crew
cleaned up, we joined our fellow inmates in the auditorium.  The warden
said a little prayer of thanksgiving, and then gave us wonderful news.

"This facility is minimum security.  Therefore, those of you wish to do so,
can go home for three days at Christmas.  But be warned," he said, wagging
his finger, "if you fail to return from your furlough, you will be hunted
down, arrested, and sent to a maximum security prison.  Your sentence will
be doubled, and it will start anew."

I learned later on that a little less than half the residents chose not to
leave the prison.  I supposed that, like me, they had no home to go to.
That night Sam asked me if I was going to accept the furlough, and I said
that I had no place to go.  He got really excited.

"Please," he said, "I have the week off.  Spend Christmas with me."  He
winked at me, and added, "We'll be able to make as much noise as we want
to."

Sam had a one bedroom apartment in town, about a fifteen minute drive from
the prison.  It was small, neat, and clean.  When we walked into the
apartment, we fell into each other's arms.  I actually started to strip,
but Sam stopped me.

"I need to talk to you," he said.  "I may have a job for you, but it's way
beneath your education and your talents.  Would you be interested?  We can
live here together.  I'd like that."

I was afraid that nobody would hire me, so I was more than interested.
"Tell me more," I begged.

"I have this friend," he said.  "He and I went all through school together,
and we remained friends even after I told him I was gay.  To prove that he
didn't care, he asked me to be the best man at his wedding.  He owns the
only taxi service in this small town.  His dispatcher is getting married
and is moving to the west coast in June.  He's looking for her replacement.
I told him about you, and he said he would be glad to train you."

"Next June," I repeated.  "I'll be out by then.  The whole idea of living
here in this pretty little town, and living with you, is just too good to
be true.  I'd love to relocate.  I'm not allowed to see my boys, so I have
no reason to go back to New York."

"I prayed that you would say that," Sam said.  He grabbed me in a bear hug.
"We'll go to his office tomorrow and I'll introduce you.  If you don't
mind, I'd like to go to Christmas Eve services tomorrow evening.  I want to
thank God for you."

I smiled and said the same thing.

That night, for the first time, we made love without any restrictions or
constraints.  We undressed fully and showered together.  What bliss.  There
was not a spot on my body that Sam didn't kiss, and I did the same to him.
We had always made love in the dark, but now I could get a good look at
him.  His cock was about the same length and width as mine, but he was cut.

We agreed to play sixty-nine, but tried to refrain from cumming.  When we
were both worked up to a frenzy we fucked each other, but no more condoms,
just lots of lube.

That night I found out why Sam was delighted that we could now make all the
noise we wanted to.  He was the noisiest lover I ever heard.  When he came,
his wailing scared me to death.  He actually encouraged me to be noisier.
He wanted evidence of how much I loved him.  I was happy to oblige him.

I had about a month off between my release and the day I started my new
job.  I got a lawyer, and he was able to get my alimony and child support
reduced to be commensurate with my new salary.  This angered my ex-wife,
and she wouldn't allow me to see my sons.  She actually got a restraining
order against me.  I determined that I would seek them out on their
eighteenth birthday.  I wanted them to know that I loved them, and it was
their mother who kept me away from them.

She should have expected this.  She took all my assets in the divorce, so
she knew I had nothing to give her.  She should have been smart enough to
know that as an ex-con I could never get as good a job as I had.  I didn't
feel sorry for her in the least.

I loved my new job.  Compared to my former career job, the stress was
minimal.  My union with Sam was also stress free, so different than my life
with my ex.  And did I mention that the sex was infinitely more satisfying?

I told you that I hated Ben Holliman for what he did to me.  Well, I no
longer hate him.  In fact, I am grateful to him.  He forced me to abandon a
lifetime of stress, which may certainly have killed me.  Now I live with
the greatest guy in the world, and he kept his promise.  He took me to
paradise.