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I got into trouble very early in life and learned some hard lessons. I was only sentenced to a few years but it does not go by fast. Fortunately jail is an amazing place to make friends. Most were good people, just had a moment or two of bad judgement, like me.
I met my wife when I got out. She had also done time so we had that to bond over. She’s hot, smart, and my best friend.
When she and I got married, we posted our pictures online so our prison family could see. It was super heartwarming to have all of the messages of support.
But it was also somewhat sad. So many of them expressed their deep longing for what we had, to have a partner and experience closeness and intimacy with another person. Many of them wouldn’t see freedom until they were old.
I felt a feeling similar to survivor’s guilt. I was out, enjoying the free life, bedding my wife whenever I felt like it and falling asleep in her arms. They were in a cold cage, alone.
The thought crept into my mind gradually. If I could just share what I have with them, it would mean so much. I wouldn’t have any less of her. She had more than enough for all of us. I must have practiced asking her a thousand times. I rehearsed my reasons and justifications, trying to frame it in a way that she’d understand.
She was hesitant at first. She came around when I reminded her of how that long, lonely dry spell felt. Weeks would go by of not even seeing another person of the opposite sex. You forget the excitement of feeling someone’s skin, smelling their fragrance, tasting their lips. She related and recalled her long nights writhing in her cell, starving for a man between her legs. And she also remembered the feeling of sex for the first time after being released. It was unimaginably good, complete ecstasy, better than any drug. She wanted to share that feeling with others.
She agreed to try it, joking that she had lots of catching up to do between the sheets anyway. I love that woman.
Her first visit was with my original cell mate. He was nearing 60 and had spent most of his life in there. He showed me the ropes and treated me like a son. He probably kept me from getting killed. The old guys in prison didn’t fight or raise their voice. They didn’t need to, everyone knew they were in charge.
“You got you a fine woman. Take care of her.” Is what the text read. It included a picture of my wife’s completely nude body hugging him in his orange jumpsuit…. And he was SMILING! I couldn’t believe my eyes. 8 years of knowing him and not once did he even grin. We all thought he forgotten happiness.
When my wife got home, she told me everything. She said he was warm, sweet, and kind with her, far from the gruff and stone faced man I knew. They talked in the cafeteria for a while before making their way to the private visitors unit.
My wife put his hands on her body and guided him through undressing her. He feasted his eyes on her and his hands hungrily grabbed handfuls of her flesh. He asked my wife how she wanted it. She responded that this was our gift to him, so he gets to choose.
Her face was smashed into the cheap mattress, his fist balling up a wad of her hair as he brutally thrusted into her. She tried to muffle her moans, worried that the guards would enter. He had said that he after years of wanting a woman, you don’t want to make love, you want to fuck her brains out. He told her she could tell him to stop if it was too much, but she had committed that she was going to give him what he wanted.
Her wrists ached as he pinned her down with his iron grip and fucked her in missionary. She whispered to him to open his eyes. He opened his eyes and met her loving, green eyes and he was drawn deep into them, just as I have been a hundred times. He gave her his last few thrusts and moaned out cries of pleasure as she clenched her legs tightly around him and dug her nails into muscled his shoulders.
She kept him wrapped up, caressing his back with her finger tips, pressing sweet kisses to his cheek. She said the favorite part was when she gently scratched his scalp with her nails. Apparently he purrs like a kitten for her.
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