Date: Tue, 27 Feb 2007 22:29:54 -0800 (PST)
From: Gay Storywriter <gaystorywriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Prison Tails 3: Tommy 4

Sorry for the long delay...lol...I've been living.....this story isn't
nearly complete, but here's another part.....thanks to all that wrote to
me in the past....


Tommy 4

I awoke the next morning as I always did; when the grill of the sallyport
opened to let in the C/O's with our breakfast. Large portable carts that
are used to keep food warm in institutional-type settings were used to
bring our breakfast. They rarely worked, and more often than not the food
was cool.  C/O's would make a circuitous route around the building,
stopping at each cell door to pass out the trays to the cell inhabitants
one by one. They would open each celldoor one at a time, so the process
usually took awhile; there are 100 cells in these types of buildings with
59 on the bottom tier and 50 on the upper. They opened each individually
because it wasn't unheard of for convicts to actually rush out of their
cells to attack other cells occupants. It didn't happen often, but every
now and again, a pair of cells would pop that held enemies and then fun
would begin. It's actually quite amusing to see two guys rush down the
tier, hoping to get in a nice sticking before the shocked C/O's can
respond and shoot them with the block gun, alarm ringing and whistles
blowing.  Morbidly amusing, I should mention. Why would convicts do that
right in front of the guards, knowing they might get shot or, at the
least, be pepper-sprayed, you may ask?  Well, I doubt that it had
anything to do with any unbridled hate they may have had for their
potential victims. More likely they were under orders from their
particular shotcaller to attack at will. And they'd be in deep shit if
the opportunity arose and they didn't take advantage. They could also be
PC'ing up. This is where they are having trouble on the yard that might
get them hurt on the yard (drug debts, missing an opportunity to attack
an enemy, etc.) and the best way out of that scenario is to just attack
someone in front of a C/O; then you'd be gaffled up and hauled off to
the hole, probably awaiting transfer.  You can also go to a C/O and tell
them that you are in danger and they'll pull you out that way, but
you'll probably end up with a rat jacket because they'll want names and
stuff like that. If you attack someone at least you can tell the homies
at your new pen you were acting like a warrior. Prison politics are
ridiculous, harsh, and inflexible.

Anyway, the breakfast arrived at the building and I awoke Tommy. I
didn't touch him, or anything, just called his name. I didn't want to
push him too far, too fast. We had plenty of time to get to know each
other. And that's what we did over the next few days. Our routine was
punctuated by the twice daily deliverance of food (we were given a sack
lunch with the morning meal). Most of the time we just laid back and
watched the tube, did a little reading, or shot the shit. I learned that
Tommy was a pretty good kid. His story was familiar to most cons in the
joint: single mom, fairly poor, ditched a lot of school, got caught up
with doing drugs, etc. Nothing earth shattering. He was doing a nickel
and had ended up classified for a 4 yard because of some carry over
points from an earlier suspended sentence. He was close enough to the
cutoff that he'd be sent to a level 3 pretty soon; especially with the
overcrowding problems on the 4's. In the meantime, he spent most of the
day like I did, in gym shorts and nothing else, trying to acclimate to
the new situation. I had plenty of opportunity to look him over. My
assessment of him had been correct; he was one beautiful kid. I seem to
remember that I stopped off at his waist in my description, so I'll
finish the job now. That next morning, when he jumped off his bunk for
breakfast he was wearing the gym shorts I had given him the night before,
I was able to get a look at his lower half. Much like his top, there
didn't appear to be much hair on the youngster; perhaps a fine downy
covering over his calves, but the thighs looked smooth as silk. His butt
was pert and had two cute little dimples just above the crack where his
lower back began. It curved gracefully down to meet his hamstrings, and
was shapely enough to cause the leg opening of the shorts to hang loose
from the thigh causing his legs to look all the more slim. And those legs
were surprisingly well defined: I learned later that he had liked to
skateboard. His smallish feet were very pale and nicely arched, with fine
blue veins running haphazardly across the top. His toes were compact and
well formed, having healthy looking nails, albeit needing a trim.

I had continued my nightly masturbation routine and Tommy had never
commented on it. Not did I ever hear him relieve himself that way. It had
been three days and I had even yet to see his cock; that's a hard thing
to do when the commode is a foot from the end of my bunk! But, Tommy had
taken to turning himself completely when he urinated and the only two
times I knew he had taken a dump was at night and the cell lights had
been off not affording me a view. At least he understood the concept of
the courtesy flush. After I felt he was becoming more comfortable in my
presence I started to do those things that would allow me to touch him,
if just briefly. Things like punching him playfully on the arm, poking
him the ribs, grabbing his foot while he was lying on his bunk, etc. It
wasn't until the evening of day three that I really began the seduction
of Tommy.

It was probably a little after the 8 o'clock count and I was a bit
restless. I got up and started pacing the seven feet back and forth from
the desk to the door, stopping every now and then to peer out the
celldoor window. Tommy was up on his bunk, lying on his back, reading one
of the novels I had loaned him from the box of about 40 I had stashed. He
was dressed only in the gym shorts I had given him, no t-shirt or
socks^×it was still pretty hot. After a couple of laps around the cell, I
decided to step up Tommy's education. I casually sauntered over to his
bunk and flung my arm up to lie next to his calf, touching it. The bunk
bed was just at my armpit, so a perfect height.

"How do you like the book?" I enquired, keeping a firm pressure along
his calf.

"It's cool, I read the first one, but haven't read the rest." He said
looking up over the top of the book; it was the "Children of Dune".

"Yeah, I've read the whole series twice, I like Sci-Fi"