Date: Thu, 2 Aug 2007 16:53:46 EDT
From: NPhillydogg@aol.com
Subject: the hole-32

	Piedmont Penitentiary is an old turn of the century prison nick
named "The HOLE" on the outskirts of Philadelphia in the Valley Forge
section of Pennsylvania, which was built to hold up to 500 convicted
inmates. Today it holds nearly 1500, 3 times it's intended population. Over
crowding means there are 2 to 3 men or more per cell, which was originally
built to house just one. The plumbing is old and rusted, the walls are
crumbly, the foundation is corroded, and morale is low. Inmates and
Officers complain of conditions, but more complaints are lost to the board
of directors. Politicians that look to line their pockets before updating
repairs for inmates, run the board. No one cares if convicted criminals
complain about "unfair" living conditions. They were incarcerated for
punishment, not comfort. Most tax payers see them as animals that need to
be locked up off the streets. They are forgotten and unwanted members of
society, -the scary and depraved. Whatever happens to them behind bars is
more than likely deserved!

____________________________________________________________________________

The HOLE/32
REALIZATIONS

Pt-1

	Morning.

	Muslim brother Abdul awakens after a restless night's sleep, --all
night long he dreamed of his missing cellmate Muhammad sleeping in bed with
him, his strong masculine arms cradling him as he churned his thick massive
black dick around in Abdul's ass. Abdul felt himself getting close to
climax in his dream, as Muhammad reached around and gently stroked Abdul's
dick to eruption. But before Abdul could climax in reality, the prison
buzzer alarmed, signaling inmates to awaken for morning `head count'.
	After count, Abdul went to the showers to get an early start on the
day, --though it all seemed pointless without Muhammad. He couldn't believe
how much he'd wrapped his life around the Muslim leader, --as his cellmate
and apprentice, they became quite close before any idea of a sexual
relationship formed. Muhammad taught Abdul everything he knew about Islam,
about being a man, and accepting responsibility. Without Muhammad, there
was an emptiness in his heart, his whole world no longer made sense and
nothing else really mattered. It was then that Abdul realized he was deeply
and madly in love with his mentor.

	The prison cafeteria opened 8am on the nose, inmates who wanted
breakfast got in long lines while others who couldn't care less went on
about their day. Abdul sat at the table with the rest of the Muslims, but
did not partake in any of their conversations. Rashad was making plans and
laying schedules for more recruiting rallies, wanting to get to all the new
young inmates who had bad experiences with rape and molestation, offering
them a safe haven in the Muslim religion.
	Abdul knew that was a theme to most Muslim recruiting, as it was
what originally got him to join when he first came to Piedmont
Penitentiary; the fear of being butt fucked by a long line of hard and
horny inmates, had him begging Muhammad to make him a member.

"Brother Abdul!" he heard someone call, snapping him out of his
thoughts. He looked up the table at all the black Muslim faces staring back
at him. He searched each one to see who it was that called him. "Are you
with us, my brother? You seem very distant. Is everything okay? Is there
something you'd like to share with the rest of us?" asked Rashad, sitting
in the middle seat (Muhammad's seat).

"uh..., no." answered Abdul, stirring his grits.

"Come on, brother Abdul..." chuckled Rashad, not letting it go. "...surely
there's something on your mind by the way you're sitting there playing in
your food! Why don't you share it with us? Who knows..., someone else at
the table might benefit from your troubles!"
	Abdul blushed with embarrassment, --surely admitting that he missed
his cellmate and lover's touch at night wouldn't help anyone at this table!
He knew Rashad was batting him, using him to show his power and strength to
the other Muslims. If Muhammad's apprentice accepted Rashad as the new
leader, then surely the rest of the doubters could as well.

"I'm just sitting here wondering..." started Abdul, catching the ear of
every man at the table. "...how we can just sit around here, planning our
day as if nothing is different, while Muhammad goes missing?"
	No one said anything, as everyone looked around questionably,
turning to Rashad and the council for answers.

"I thought we already HAD this conversation, Abdul...?" said Rashad,
obviously unwilling to discuss Muhammad in front of the other Muslim
members.

"I just find it strange that an organization that prides its practices on
`faith and unity as a united front', won't go the extra step of simply
inquiring what happened to one of its most prominent members!" added Abdul,
causing more than a few council faces to frown. "Muhammad was there for
each and every one of us! He single handedly recruited most of the men at
this table! How could you just turn your backs on him, and act as if he
never existed? As if his disappearance means absolutely nothing?!!"

"Muhammad was very instrumental in helping recruit a lot of us here, --yes!
But he IS NOT our religion, nor our god!" argued Shaheim (a man convicted
of killing his girlfriend and her interfering mother), rising his tone to
over take Abdul's. "He made his bed when he over stepped the council's
decision to pursue chasing the Warden on this idiotic quest to turn the
prison around!"

"That `idiotic quest' as you call it, was to benefit each and every single
individual in this prison! Including YOU!!" countered Abdul.

"We WARNED him that he wouldn't have our support! We're not here to cause
waves or to enact social and political change! We're an organized religion
of men behind bars! Our main goal and purpose is to council one another,
and try to make ourselves better men for our families when we return to
society!" concluded Shaheim.
	Abdul sat silent, as did the rest of the table. It seemed obvious
that no one was even interested in finding out if Muhammad was dead or
alive.

"Abdul..." started Rashad, taking over the conversation. "...you seem very
much against what we're trying to do as men of faith..., perhaps you'd feel
better no longer being in association with Islam? Maybe you'd prefer to
give up the religion?"

"Are you kicking me out?" asked Abdul, unable to believe his ears.

"No, brother..." smiled Rashad. "...I'm merely offering a suggestion if
you're unhappy with the way we run things."
	Abdul felt like a knife had just been plunged in his back. He stood
up from the table, looking at all the brothers who refused to give him eye
contact, --only the council was bold enough to look at him, --smugly, over
confident. Abdul said nothing to the suggestion, as he turned and walked
away, --leaving the Muslims to mutter amongst themselves.

Pt-2

	In the basement confides of Solitary Confinement, the breakfast
trays are being pushed down the long quiet hall by Aryan inmate Rick
McDoogle (last seen in chap-23, pt-3). Prisoners can hear the rickety cart
wheels riding over concrete floors, --they know their breakfast is coming.
	Muhammad Shaeed is lying on his cot (still naked after 4 [or is it
5] days), shivering from the constant bombardment of water they hit him
with every couple of hours (as ordered by the Warden).

	He hears the cart stop in front of his door, then hears the small
serving door open inside the larger metal door which keeps him prisoner. A
tray is placed on the metal flap that folds inward to hold the tray
upright. "Breakfast!" calls Rick, peeking into the darkness to barely makes
up Muhammad's nude naked body shivering on a small cot.

"Hey..., you're that Muslim guy Muhammad, ain't you?" whispers Rick,
looking around to make sure the guards aren't watching. Muhammad turns,
facing the small slit of light shinning in through the serving door.

"Who's that?" he asks, hoping its help.

"My name's Rick! I serve the prisoners down here! I've seen you around...,
in the Yard mostly, talking about making changes around here! You're a very
ballsy guy!"
	Muhammad turned around and sat up in his seat, his body freezing
from the cool dampness of the prison's basement.

"Could you..., could you get a message to the top for me?" he asks, taking
a chance on this stranger.

"Oh..., I dunno, man..." said Rick doubtful, as he looked around again for
guards.

"Please? I..., I may not survive down here!" begged Muhammad, coming close
to the door on his knees. He could see Rick's eyes looking back at him
through the slit. Muhammad realized he was putting all of his hope into a
white man, probably an Aryan.

"What's the message?" asked Rick, looking back.

"I need you to find my cellmate, Abdul..., tell him where I am! Tell him to
look through my papers and call my people! Call anyone he can think of to
put pressure on the Warden to release me from Confinement!"

"What's in it for me?" asked Rick, sensing Muhammad's urgency.

"I..., I have nothing." said Muhammad, sadly. "They've even stripped me of
my clothes!"

"Well..." said Rick, sensing an opportunity. "...maybe we can work
something out?"

"Please..." begged Muhammad, his body temperature already in flux.

"Well..., I've always wondered what it'd be like to suck a big black cock!"
said Rick, licking his lips. "And I can't think of a better nigger to suck
off than the head of the Muslims, --right?" he laughed at his
vision. Muhammad couldn't believe his ears, --here he was dying, and all
this white man could think of was swinging on his `big black cock'!

"o, okay..., whatever you want." said Muhammad, weakly. He wasn't even sure
his dick could get hard, since he'd been here, all he could think about was
getting out.
	Rick McDoogle waited on his knees outside Muhammad's cell as the
black leader stood up, and placed his flaccid dick through the serving
door. Rick removed the tray, then took the soft black cock into his hand
and started pulling it. It didn't get hard immediately like he hoped, so he
leaned forward and place his think pink lips around the head.
	Muhammad stood on the other side of the door, his body pressed up
against the cold metal as his dick was being suckled by a stranger. His
mind had been so filled with thoughts of escape, getting out, injustice,
family, friends, and freedom, --that he never had time to think erotic
thoughts. Even now as his dick head was being suckled, he couldn't
concentrate on anything but the cold. But he knew his survival hinged on
this stranger, and the stranger might not help him if Muhammad's dick
couldn't get hard.

	Muhammad forced himself to think erotic thoughts. He tried thinking
of women, of pussy, of sucking a nice firm pair of tits, --but nothing
worked. It'd been so long since Muhammad had known a women (14 yrs since
his incarceration), that he couldn't even imagine fucking them
anymore. Instead, his thoughts turned to his cellmate Abdul. Remembering
Abdul's face, his delightful smile, the way he kissed, the softness of his
lips, his touch, his taste, his feel, --had Muhammad's dick growing in no
time. Rick McDoogle thought it was because of his suckling, but in truth,
it was Abdul that got Muhammad's dick to rise.

	Rick pulled back once Muhammad's dick got to full mast. He looked
at the long hard black shaft sticking out of the metal door, and admired
it. Muhammad's dick was at least 9 inches long, dark brown, with the
slightest ever upward bend. Rick thought it was one of the prettiest dicks
he'd ever seen in his life.
	Enthralled, he leaned forward and re-took the hard cock back into
his mouth.

	Muhammad dreamed of Abdul and him kissing, sucking each other's
dicks and making long passionate love at night after `lights out'. Muhammad
remembered the first time Abdul allowed him to slide his thick tool up into
his asshole, letting Muhammad fuck him for the first time. Muhammad was as
gentle as possible, but after 14 yrs without sex, he came as soon as his
entire dick was buried in Abdul's butt. Abdul didn't know Muhammad had cum
so fast, and was still waiting on his back for Muhammad to start thrusting
into him. Muhammad recovered from his silent cum, and continued fucking
Abdul straight through a second one. When he finally officially came the
second time, Abdul's ass was taking the full length of his dick as he shot
another huge load deep into his tight and contracting colon (chap-16,
pt-6).
	Sex with Abdul afterwards only got better, as Abdul got used to
Muhammad's penis, his rectum conforming to the shape of his lover's
dick. Muhammad made love to Abdul nightly, sleeping in the same bed as he
fucked him regularly. Abdul never complained, just happy to be connected to
someone in a prison full of strangers and unknowns. As time went on,
Muhammad found himself looking at Abdul differently, --not as less of a
man, but more as a spouse rather than companion. Behind closed doors and in
the dark of night, they were as much man and wife as any straight couple,
--kissing, loving, sharing, compromising. Muhammad had come to love the
feel and taste of Abdul's dick in his mouth as well, sucking the younger
Muslim off as often as they had sex. He'd even gotten used to swallowing
his cum loads, drinking Abdul's manly essence and feeling even more
bonded. It was at this precise moment that Muhammad realized he loved
Abdul, --completely and unconditionally. The very realization of that fact
caused Muhammad's body to warm over with emotion, despite the cold dampness
of his cell. He felt his dick starting to throb and pulse as his balls
prepared to release their cargo.

	Rick McDoogle was enjoying himself, sucking his lips up and down
the thick hard shaft before him. He only regretted not being able to deep
throat the whole cock, as the metal door and serving flap kept Muhammad
from thrusting his entire cock through the opening.
	Rick had sucked cock before, in the Aryan block, he is one of the
better ones. But he'd never had a chance to service a black man, something
he'd always secretly dreamed of doing. He'd see black men in the streets
and on film, big strong bodied black men with dark skin and angry
looks. They scared him as much as they excited him, but the nature of his
upbringing taught him that he was better than them. No self respecting
white man would be caught dead fucking with anyone of their race. Rick grew
up believing this to be true, but would jack off secretly to his
fantasies. Now, fantasy became reality, as his first black cock swelled,
then started shooting hot thick nigger-cum all over his lips and throat. He
sucked and swallowed every ounce of Muhammad's seed, jacking his own 5 inch
hardon as he came all over the metal prison door.

	Muhammad felt his legs go weak, as he lost his balance and fell to
his ass on the floor. He was panting hard from the strong climax, his thick
rubbery dick still oozing remnants of his orgasm. He looked through the
serving door, to see the white man licking the last of his load from his
lips. Rick quickly zipped his pants and re-placed Muhammad's tray before
moving on.

"Hey..., hey!" called Muhammad, looking through the slit. "Do we have a
deal? Will you talk to Abdul?

"Yeah, yeah, whatever man!"

Pt-3

	40 yr old Romero Rodriguez tried unsuccessfully to explain to his
eldest son (26 yr old --Raul), that what he did with his youngest son
(David) was for his own good. But unlike Raul's mother (Lynette), Raul
wasn't buying it, calling it what it was, "—INCEST!"
	Romero didn't want to start a war with his son (knowing his son
would lose), but he needed to do something drastic to make Raul realize
that he should never (EVER) question his father's leadership.

	He watched Raul for several days, picking up his routine as he hung
around with his posse of hoods (Kit, Alex, Neko, Pablo, and Carlos [his
middle son] ). Romero knew Alex was Raul's main boi (his prison bitch), but
what he really wanted to know, was how deep did their relationship
went. After close observation, he started seeing little gestures between
them, unseen to the common eye. Gestures like; --knees and legs touching
for long periods of time while sitting side by side during Yard games and
in the prison caff, --glances they thought no one would catch when they
were sharing the same naughty thoughts and ideas, --always being within an
arm's length of each other at any given time of the day, --always
disappearing at the same time, time after time.
	Romero knew Raul had made one of the most danger mistakes a man
could make in prison life, --he grew attached to someone. Romero realized
then and there, to get total and complete control over his son, he had to
get to Alex.

Pt-4

	34 yr old Davis Wood sat in his prison cell, looking at the empty
bed of his former cellmate James Derekson. He couldn't believe in just one
act, his friend and cellmate was gone, his life taken by someone in the
prison.
	Davis came to the cell to find James' blood all over the floor, the
cell ransacked by someone. Passerbys witness how James was found bleeding
on the floor, stabbed several times by some unknown assailant. Prison
guards came and took him to the infirmary, but his internal damage was too
severe, and the loss of blood too great. James was pronounced dead shortly
thereafter. His belongings were confiscated by guards, to be shipped off to
his next of kin along with his body. In the blink of an eye, an entire
person could be wiped clean from the Earth, gone as if he never
existed. Davis was in a sad place, when a guard suddenly showed up at his
prison cell.

"Davis!" he called, shocking the 34 yr old out of his coma. "Ellis's
waiting in his office, you're late!"

"I'm...I'm not in the mood today..." said Davis, feeling angry and sick at
the loss of his friend.

"I don't give a fuck if you're on your period and having cramps out the
asshole! Ellis wants you in his office NOW!" yelled the guard, escorting
Davis out of the prison block.

	In the Administrative side of the prison where the finance offices
are, --Davis is shown into the head man's office. Ellis is behind his desk,
checking data sheets and making notes when Davis walks in, looking like
someone just killed his best friend.

"Bout time you got here, Davis..." said Ellis, dropping his pen as he
pushed himself from behind his desk and undid his pants. "...let's get this
done quick, I don't have all fucking day!"

"Sir..." said Davis, clearly in no mood to perform oral sex. "...can I have
the day off? My cellmate James Derekson was killed..."

"Day off?" asked Ellis, as if never hearing the term before. "Let's get
this straight..., if you don't want this job, I've got 1499 other inmates
dying to take your spot! So make up your mind right now if you want it or
not!"
	Davis knew by the stone cold look on Ellis' face that he was
serious. He felt the urge to walk over and beat the shit out of the
overweight warden, to remind him who he was on the outside of the prison
walls, --but Davis also know such a stunt could land him untold weeks or
months in the prison's Solitary ward (if not worse, --the
hospital). Meekly, he rounded the desk to where Ellis was sitting with his
soft 8 inch dick out, and knelt down before him. Ellis settled back in his
seat, spreading his legs to make room for Davis' adult male form, and
loosened his tie. Davis picked up Ellis' soft phallus, which quickly
hardened to the touch, and took it into his mouth.

"Yeahhhh..., now that's more like it!" sighed Ellis, closing his eyes as he
leaned back and allowed his cock to be caressed.
	Davis felt violated. It was almost like being raped, having to
perform for someone when he wasn't in the mood. He looked up at the Warden,
who looked large and smug sitting there behind his desk as if the world
couldn't touch him. Davis thought Ellis acted as if he were above everyone
else, --as if every man in the prison was beneath him, and there only to
serve his needs. He suddenly felt like a slave, as if serving the Master
for a few crumbs from the table (crumbs being the perks the "assistants"
got; i.e. –free cigarettes, sweets, air conditioning, etc...). Suddenly
none of those things seemed worth selling his dignity for. His manhood
meant more. Davis was in mid-suck when he pulled his mouth off Ellis' dick,
causing the Warden's eyes to open.

"What the fuck's the problem now?" asked Ellis, visibly pissed.

"I can't do this!" said Davis, getting up off his knees. Ellis pushed Davis
back down, standing up and towering over the 5 foot 9 inmate like a huge
wall, his hard dick flopping back and forth like a pendulum.

"You were hired to perform a job, convict!" insisted the Warden, grabbing
Davis by the head. Davis tried to pull back, but was forced into the big
man's dick as he roughly shoved it back into Davis' mouth. Ellis gripped
Davis tightly about the skill, and began fucking his thick fat cock in and
out.
	Davis tried biting down on the Warden's meat, but the big man just
grunted and fucked deeper. Davis felt the cock force into his throat,
punching through the muscles as his throat ballooned like a frog. Ellis
ground his meat around in Davis' gullet, cutting off his air supply as the
34 father or 4 fought to breathe.

	Ellis loved to force fuck inmates, --it isn't something he gets to
partake in often with his busy schedule, but when he does, it's all he can
do to contain his excitement.
	Davis' struggles only made Ellis more determined to use him. He
held the convict's head down on his dick until Davis' started to feel light
headed and faint, when Davis stopped struggling, Ellis pulled back his
cock, allowing Davis to gulp down some much needed air. But the break was
only short lived, as Ellis forced his dick all the way back down into his
throat and began face fucking him with a vengeance.

	Davis was barely conscious as his mouth and throat was fucked by
the Warden. With the fight officially out of him, Ellis had free reign into
his throat with very little resistance. He hammered at the inmates' mouth
like a power-jack, thrusting through tongue, lips, teeth, and gum. Davis
had no choice but to take what the older man gave him. His mouth and throat
belonged to the Warden, barring their agreement. Ellis never let up with
his zealous fucking, he pounded and pounded until he felt his cock harden
thicker, then burst several thick wads of hot potent ball juice directly
down into Davis' sore throat and stomach.
	Davis groaned when he felt the deluge of semen pour down into his
open throat, draining into him like an open active pipe. He felt the warm
contents moving through him like a thick clot of molasses. When Ellis was
done cumming, he shoved Davis' head off his dick and threw him to the floor
like a rag doll. While Davis tried to compose himself as Ellis tucked his
cock, zipped his pants, straightened his tie, and re-took his place behind
his desk.

"Get out if you're going to quit!" barked Ellis, his dick satisfied and his
cum still journeying through Davis' intestines. "If you're gong to stay,
take a seat in the waiting room until I call you!" he added without looking
up from his paperwork.
	Davis climbed to his feet, --his throat feeling bruised and
sore. It hurt to swallow as he made his way to the office door, his dick
rock hard as he tried unsuccessfully to conceal it in his crotch.

	He walked out into the waiting room, surprised to see the Muslim
Abdul waiting to see the Warden. He walked awkwardly to the seat next to
him, and sat down, --the secretary giving him her usual sideways glance as
she typed up one of Ellis' memos. Abdul noticed the stains of slobber and
drool all over Davis' chest and shirt, a clear sign of what he and the
Warden were up to in his office.

Pt-5

	After waiting and waiting all day to see the Warden (without luck),
Abdul was finally sent on his way, and asked to `try again tomorrow, he'd
very busy.' `Busy' –thought Abdul, not too busy to call Davis back into his
office 2 more times before 5pm for more hot blow jobs. Each time Davis
emerged from the office his face was more flush, his clothes more damp, and
his throat sorer. Abdul was starting to think the only way he'd be able to
see the Warden was if he scheduled a blow job through the secretary.

	Defeated and deflated, Abdul walked the corridors of the prison
until he happened (unconsciously) upon the prison library. He stopped just
outside the entrance, his dick hardening at the very thought of what he
used to come there for (Chap-5, pt-3 and chap-7, pt-4). He knew he was duty
bound to stay faithful to Muhammad, but without knowing rather Muhammad was
alive or dead, he found he needed the company a little more than he did his
fidelity.
	He ventured into the library as inmates busy themselves reading and
looking up books. A very noticeable percentage seemed preoccupied, as if to
just be waiting around for no good reason with no books in hand. Abdul knew
these inmates were waiting their turns to see Gramps in the back.

	Abdul found himself a book (any book), and took a seat at one of
the tables. He glanced around the room to see who was waiting and who
wasn't. When he saw one inmate come from the back of the library, adjusting
his zipper, --he saw another moving quick to take his place.
	Surely Gramp's mind-blowing blow jobs had had a good reputation,
but Abdul was surprised to see the number of men wandering around waiting
for a piece of the old man. He saw some of them adjusting themselves
openly, their prison pants barely capable of containing their desperate
hardons.

	Another man left, only to be replaced by another. Abdul found
himself sitting for over an hour, awaiting his turn as Gramps went to town
pleasing every man (no matter the race or age) who came his way.
	Finally after 90 minutes of waiting, Abdul stood up from his seat,
and approached Gramps' famous aisle.

	Gramps (a 65 yr old, 200 lbs slightly overweight blkm) was
incarcerated into the prison system 30 yrs ago for murdering his wife and
kids while high off bad cocaine. He's regretted his actions ever sense, but
had come to know nothing else other than prison life.
	Abdul approached the wrinkled old man as he sat in one of the
library chairs in the very back of the last aisle. Abdul wasn't sure if the
old man recognized him or not, not with so many dicks coming in and out of
the library since his last appearance. Gramps sat silently, licking the cum
off his lips from the last man to use him. He waited for Abdul as he slowly
approached, pulling at his zipper to release his raging hardon. He hadn't
had any sex since Muhammad left, and after receiving it regularly every
night, going a week straight without was practical hell.

	Despite his strong feelings for his lover, he pulled his 8 inch
light brown dick from his pants, and presented it to the old man. Gramps
(whose real name is Copper Jewel) leaned forth, and swallowed the dick from
sight, --his talented throat already open and coated with layers of sperm
residue. Abdul felt all doubt, guilt, and remorse leave his body as soon as
he felt the old man's familiar mouth sink down around his manhood.
	Copper was an excellent cock sucker. 30 yrs of dick sucking had
perfected his throat muscles into a cock sucking machine. The fact that
Copper had no teeth in his mouth at all, made his amazing blow jobs
absolutely fantastic. There were inmates who (when freed) went home and
violently knocked the teeth out of their wives and girlfriends mouths, just
so they could recreate the feel of Gramps' mouth wrapped around their
dicks. His blow jobs were legendary, --a poet (who was once an inmate) once
described it as "standing on the edge of the world and looking into the
eyes of heaven". Gramps never thought much of his blow jobs, it was a skill
he perfected over time that seemed to help keep his enemies close and
happy. He always figured `if you could help give a man an orgasm, he'll
keep you around for the duration, or until his penis falls off', luckily
for him, that was never a problem.

	Abdul leaned his head back as Copper Jewel's old soft lips worked
their way up and down his hard shaft. He certainly felt as if he were on
cloud-9 every time he used the old man's mouth. He grabbed onto the
bookshelf to steady himself, knowing from experience that he would feel
weak in the knees at the moment of glory. Copper bobbed his head back and
forth on his dick, generating a lot of spit to make the shaft as slick and
smooth as possible. His soft gums grazed the shaft every now and then, but
Abdul barely noticed. Copper's old tongue was fat, and covered the entire
underside of Abdul's shaft as it slithered back and forth, rubbing the
cum-tube and bringing most men to quick climaxes. Abdul was no different,
as his shaft already started to throb and pulse with threats of cumming.
	Copper sensed the tasty cock was about to blow, and re-doubled his
efforts. Abdul was surprised how an old man's age could keep up performing
so many blow jobs day after day. His stomach had to be busting at the gut
with warm cum by the time he went to bed, only to re-start the process over
again the next day.

	Abdul's mouth dropped open as he began to pant hard, his chest
heaving heavily as his breaths came in short supply. The room went black as
it started to spin and swirl. Copper grabbed him by the legs to hold him
steady, but Abdul was already falling into the abyss of no return. His dick
pulsed with a life of its own as his body started to tremble
uncontrollably. The cum burst free from his dick like a rocket launcher,
blasting into the space of Copper's mouth and refilling it again and again
with a salty supply of thick warm semen.
	Copper moaned delightfully as he swallowed the sweet semen, never
missing one single spurt as he expertly swallowed while sucking. Abdul
shook like a new born calf, his legs growing weaker by the second as he
started to stumble backwards. He was caught by brother Rashad, who took the
liberty of feeling Abdul up while he was incoherent. By the time Abdul
started to catch his breath and come back down to Earth, Copper was sucking
the last remnants of sperm from his shaft, while Rashad had his hands up
Abdul's shirt, feeling his body torso and pinching his nipples while
grinding his hardon into his ass.
	Abdul pushed Rashad away while lowering his shirt and tucking his
wet dick. Copper licked his lips and waited for the next customer.

"What're YOU doing here?" asked Abdul, pushing past Rashad as he zipped his
pants and exited the library as fast as he could.

"I just happened to be in the library looking for a book, and saw you in
the back getting it on with that..., CRUSTY OLD MAN!" said Rashad, twisting
his face. "Surely you could do better, Abdul."

"I doubt it!" said Abdul, loathing Rashad more by the minute.

"Honestly brother..., if you were so hard-up for company, you could have
COME by to see me!" smiled Rashad, confidently.

"I'd rather sell myself to the devil!" responded Abdul.

"Looked as though you had!" laughed Rashad.
	Abdul stormed off, not wanting to play his game, --but Rashad
followed him. "You can't tell me you didn't enjoy feeling me pressed up
behind you!" he said, following closely. "I could feel the way you pushed
your ass into my crotch when you felt my dick rubbing against you! YOU
know, and so do I!"

"Look..., what do you want from me?" asked Abdul, spinning around
unexpectedly.

"I want what Muhammad had..." said Rashad, simply. "I want his power, his
respect, his loyal followers, his arrogance, his confidence, and his...,
apprentice!" he said, looking Abdul up and down like a statue made of gold.

"You'll NEVER be the man Muhammad was!" said Abdul, the fires burning hot
in his eyes.

"WAS is the correct term my brother! Muhammad is the past, --I am the
future! Stick with me, and I'll get you everything you could ever want in
prison! Money, cell phones, computer, video games, you name it!"

"OH..." laughed Abdul, nervously. "...so you're using your power to sell
out? To make deals with the drug dealers and the other lowlife's that run
this prison? Is that what you call serving Ali?" questioned Abdul.

"I serve MYSELF before I serve ANYONE ELSE!" snared Rashad through grit
teeth. "And if you have ANY sense at all..., you'll jump on this train
BEFORE it leaves the station! The chose is yours, --my brutha, chose
wisely!!" finished Rashad, leaving Abdul to ponder it over.

______
DOGG