Date: Mon, 17 Sep 2007 19:23:01 -0700 (PDT) From: Mike Torres Subject: Are you Kidding me? Chapter 1: Smells like teen Spirit. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without written permission of the author. Comments about this story are welcome and appreciated. Please contact me at miketorrez@yahoo.com This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between Males. The content is homoerotic and for the entertainment of adults of legal age. This is a work of fiction and all characters are fictional. Chapter 1: Smells like Teen Spirit As the guard lead me through the cell block, all faces turned my direction. This must be what a hooker with huge tits feels like. Men were leering at me, moaning like they just tasted something sweet. They were giving me looks that said 'I'm gonna know you intimately'. Those looks made me feel cheap, invaded, and already used. I kept my eyes on my feet, which only increased the moaning and hissing. The door to my new home opened. Sitting on the bottom bunk was a giant latino man. If I were gay I would probably say he was gorgeous. My brain wouldn't let that register though, it wasn't important. I got a little excited thinking this guy surely must be straight, maybe I'll be safe. Right before that thought, my brain did some calculations: He must be 6'5"... his shoulders and arms were enormous, however, not the type from hard work but the sort you see on a model, an underwear model. His waist must have been only 32" which seemed even smaller when you compare his height and shoulder mass to it. He was sitting there on the bunk, leaned up against the wall, legs spread out; legs of a bicyclist. His boxers were loose, even so there was a hint of a testicle hanging out the side. Christ they must be huge I thought as my brain took in all these calculations in less than a second. My brain wasn't too happy. The data it just received wasn't good. I am 5'10... which never seemed short, but then again I was never in a situation where I had to confront a hulking 6'5"; I knew better. I put my clothes and blanket on my new bed and jumped up. I lay there, silent, for hours, wondering how I had gotten myself into this mess. I went home for the summer and stayed with my parents.. there weren't many jobs available for a college freshmen with no work experience. I ended up working the graveyard Dennys shift downtown. They told me I had to start as a host/cashier and I could work my way up to waiter, where the real money was. The first day, I knew I was in the right place. As all the loud drunk people filed in looking for food, this place became a party. My boyish good looks complimented my slightly vintage, slightly mod look. Everyone flirted with me. I felt special. One of the waiters told me I could make a little money on the side by swiping peoples credit cards in a special reader first before I ran their card through the visa machine. I could get $10/card. So far I had made a small fortune. Fate really smiled down on me. I was getting blown in the bathroom by cute drunk girls, I was making close to $1000/week in cash swiping credit cards. Life was good. So good I didn't think to moderate my behavior when the cops came through. Everyone else believed that my special swiper was a `card cleaner' why wouldn't they? And now here I am, in prison, day one of One thousand eight hundred and twenty five. I was shaken from my trance by the sound of piss hitting the metal toilet basin. It sounded like a fire hose letting loose. That also explains the faint smell of urine in the cell, it must splatter everywhere. Christ, five years smelling someone elses urine and from what I could tell from up in my bunk, some hefty BO. I wondered if they give us deodorant. A buzzer sounded and shortly after the lights went out. So far so good. I curled up under my blanket. And cried myself to sleep. Well, not quite, right before I nodded off I felt the bed shaking. Rocking really... and it didn't stop. I realized he must be jerking off and I felt safe. He is definitely straight, I am safe in here. I started to get happy, thinking that maybe this wouldn't be so bad, the stories of prison abuse were really just to scare people. I found myself getting turned on my the rocking of the bed and slight high pitched slapping noise I could hear. He must be uncut, like that Russian guy on the swim team in high school, Marek. Every once in a while when we won a meet we'd celebrate with a jo session in the showers. Everyone had their eyes closed tight as Rich would talk about the juicy pussy of the cheerleader he was banging. I would peek mine open to look at Mareks cock. It wasn't especially big like Richs, but I found myself fascinated by the foreskin and watching the tip of the head peak out from the fold on the down stroke. I always made sure I was showering next to Marek when we won. The sounds coming from the guy in the bunk below me were similar. In this mildly erotic state I thought about beating off myself. Then the stench hit me. Shit, what was that? My mind try to deny it, but eventually relented. That must be the smell of cock cheese, rank smegma. Fuck, it filled the whole cell. I totally lost my hard on. I almost wanted to retch. I put my head in my pillow and wondered if this was a smell I would have to get used to. I hated it. Then my cellmate let out a big yawn, or something kind of like that. He must be coming. The bed shook with a couple violent jolts and then all was calm. I watched him get up, his cock sticking out in front of him... in the shadows I couldn't really tell just how big it was, my head was still in under the pillow, but it seemed really really big. That fucker used my hand towel to wipe his stomach, chest and cock with. I was getting mad, actually pretending to myself like I might say something, when he turned around and looked right at me. I froze. There was only a millimeter of a crack between the pillow and mattress from which I was sneaking a look. No way he could see me watching. He just kept staring though, almost right into my eyeball. No way, it was so dark in the cell... all you can really see are shadows... no chance he can tell I was watching his every move. He crawled back in bed and every muscle in my body relaxed. Minutes later came the loudest snoring I have ever heard, punctuated by some crazy farting. All I could think of was "Are you kidding me? This is my life now?" ----------------------- miketorrez@yahoo.com all creative/constructive feedback appreciated.