For Julio and Rome, Love Thrives and Dies at Verona Prison E-Book

Gaylord Fancypants

• Herausgeber: Eroticatorium
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Can this hardcore prison handle their love? Julio and Rome are about to find out, in this intense and extreme MM modern-day retelling of Shakespeare's "The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet"!

Leseprobe

Contents

Title Page copy

Chapter One - Toil Shall Strive

Chapter Two - Well-Seeming Forms

Chapter Three - Be Rough With Love

Chapter Four - Vain Fantasy

Chapter Five - That Which We Call a Rose

Chapter Six - Sweet Sorrow

Chapter Seven - Worm's Meat

Gaylord Fancypants Endmatter copy

For Julio and Rome, Love Thrives and Dies at Verona Prison: An MM Erom Prison Novelette

Gaylord Fancypants

Copyright 2018

To keep up-to-date on Gaylord Fancypants' MM fantasy erotica and his fancy pants, check out the mailing list! (http://eepurl.com/drHK4D)

All characters depicted in sexual situations in this publication are eighteen years of age or older.

These stories are about fictional consenting adults engaging in taboo and controversial sexual acts. Nobody involved in the creation of this ebook, including authors, editors and models, support immoral or illegal acts in real life. Cover models are not intended to illustrate specific people and the content does not refer to models' actual acts, identity, history, beliefs or behavior. No characters depicted in this ebook are intended to represent real people.

CHAPTER ONE

Toil Shall Strive

Carcayú had a good time during the riot. It was the most fun he'd had since his arrest. Prison was dull, and despite the deaths of some of his friends, he was glad for the break in the dull monotony of prison life. It was nice to do something different -- even if it wasn't his usual means of blowing off steam before being locked up, it was more similar than most outsiders would have thought.

So he enjoyed himself riotously. He participated with intense fervor, throwing whatever he could grab, or whoever, at anybody in uniform he could find. Everything he saw with the words Brutewood Correctional on it were fair game, he thought. If they were going to treat him like an animal, he was going to act like one. He had always rather enjoyed being beastly, and he knew his powerful chest and limbs would keep him safe from the other inmates.

He would have ravaged the prison guards they managed to capture, done who knows what to them before killing them. But Príncipe stopped him. Príncipe was perhaps the only person who could control El Carcayú, the most feared man in Los Alcachutres. Carcayú knew better than to cross Príncipe, whose smooth, lean gangster demeanor, brimming with class and grace, hid a vicious and bestial streak.

They stood, watching over the prisoners huddled in small groups. Carcayú was glad to see that the Alcachutres were unambiguously in charge, taking control of most of the cell block. The white, black and other Latino gangs were clustered together in one corner. Carcayú liked knowing that he was a confidante of the man who really ran this prison, Príncipe, and he liked exercising his power from time to time to remind himself how good it felt.

"I don't like that hombre over there," Carcayú said during a lull. He was pointing at an inmate named Julio Capulo, a thin Mexican who had been standoffish and rude to Carcayú when he first arrived at Brutewood.

Julio was a long-time member of the Alcachutres, transferred up from a minimum security wing after killing another inmate. He was a good boy, Príncipe thought -- he had done the killing for the organization, as he should have, so he didn't think Carcayú was being reasonable. "So? Why should I care who you like?" Príncipe said. 

"Lemme kill him. I don't trust him," Carcayú said.

"No, leave him be," Príncipe said. He sighed. Carcayú was a good enforcer, but he sometimes got a screw in his shorts about individuals, for no reason that Príncipe could divine -- Carcayú seemed to just like picking someone and tearing them to shreds. But Julio was not an option to be treated so cruelly, Príncipe decided. "He has good relations with the guards. They laugh and joke with him. Because he is small, he does not seem threatening to them. And he is a loyal boy, we can not waste that."

Carcayú growled, but Príncipe, alone even among the Alcachutres, could control him. He flexed his muscles and resolved to find another way to show his strength, to make sure no one question his leadership.

The Alcachutres were in charge during the riot. All the other gangs at Brutewood feared them the most, so when order broke down as shots rang out, it was Príncipe who took charge. Now he could do anything he wished, knowing that the prison administration would give him amnesty in exchange for giving up a few pawns.

While waiting for the hostage negotiator to call the prison phone, Príncipe was worried his men were getting antsy. If they got bored, they'd demand something exciting, which was likely to turn out bad for everyone.

Not wanting any more blood to be shed, Príncipe decided to let them sate their urges a different way: fucking. He had just the right young man in mind as well.

Barosa was a slim young Latin twink, who wore his prison shirt tied to expose a bare midriff, and his shorts rolled up to show off his thighs. His flamboyance belied a scrappy brawler who could hold his own in a fair fight. "Hola, Príncipe," he said, then whistled and ran his eyes up and down Príncipe's body as though undressing him with his eyes.

Príncipe thought flagrant homosexuality was disgusting, but he was diplomatic enough to hide it. "I bet you know what I want," Príncipe grabbed his crotch and squeezed the outline of his dick in his orange prison pants. "And you know you owe me one."

"I have a pretty good idea what you want, but if it's what I think it is, it's more than one, and I don't owe you that much," Barosa said. He peered at the mass of Alcachutres drinking potato vodka in the common area, a few yards from the bodies of two guards and six inmates. They kept the bodies right in front to slow down the screws when they eventually took the cell block back.

"Come on, Barosa, I know you get horny too," Príncipe said.

"Yeah, but I can't just choose a few of the sexier cholos out there, can I?" Barosa said. "If I start sucking one dick, they are all gonna fuck me."

"How much?"

"Gimme..." Barosa paused, reading Príncipe, trying to decide how much he could demand.

"Keep in mind this is probly gonna happen no matter what, so we're talking about how much I'm going to pay you to play along," he said. "So I'll give you ten packets." He had an excess of packets of canned sardines now -- the de facto currency since cigarettes were banned -- so he was glad to offload some while the price was high. Nobody could get more until the riot was over.

Barosa's eyes brightened. "Tell them to come back here, one at a time, and gimme someone as a guard. You gotta tell him, tell someone to watch and keep them cool. Tell them there'll be punishment if they hit me or anything, and I want them one at a time. They'll ignore me if I say it, you have to tell them."

"Okay, okay," Príncipe said. He turned toward the cholos in the common area and called out, "Julio! Venir aquí!"

"Ooh, good one! Julio is cute," Barosa said with a smile. "Let me get him off first."

"I am first in the ass," Príncipe said. "I'm in charge, and I do not take sloppy seconds. You can suck him off first."

Julio was a bright, fresh-faced young cholo, who smiled and nodded as Príncipe dropped his pants and explained the plan. He planted his dick in Barosa's ass without even looking down or missing a beat in giving instructions.

Barosa squealed at the cock invading his ass, and began using one hand to pull down Julio's pants and the other to stroke his own cock. Barosa was happy to serve his men. He loved taking dick, and cholo cock like Los Alcachutres was perfect. It was rough and hard, but he liked getting facefucked as hard and rough as possible.

He would have liked a little more tenderness from Príncipe though. Príncipe had a thick brown cock and he wasted no time to lube it up or make it feel good, he just slammed it right into Barosa's ass. He grunted with every thrust, keeping his demeanor dignified -- as though he could just as easily chosen to spend this time playing chess or writing a letter. But the passion and sexual release was evident in his restrained moans.

Barosa worked his own hips back onto Príncipe's dick, wanting to make sure he did the best he could -- while fags were hardly beloved in prison, a good jail-cell cum-sponge was worth a lot of money (or packets) behind bars. So he squeezed back onto Príncipe's cock, working with his rhythm and demanding he fuck harder every time his mouth was empty.

It was hard to give Julio a blowjob while getting fucked in the ass, with Príncipe rocking him back and forth, causing spasms of pain and pleasure that ran from his spine to his jaw. But Julio's thick cock leaked precum that tasted so good Barosa could think of nothing else but shoving more of it down his throat.

Finally Príncipe came, giving little warning first. He simply stopped moving, slapped Barosa's ass a few times and shot a thick wad that coated Barosa's intestines. He shuddered in pleasure as Príncipe's now-limp cock slid past his prostate on the way out.

Julio finished moments later, his younger dick slippery with sweat and shooting spasms of semen. He had a sweet, thick flavor to his semen, which Barosa savored in contrast to the bitter, watery taste to most inmate cum. Julio moaned as his juice ran down Barosa's chin, and he wondered what it would be like to suck cock -- Julio had never been with a man before being locked up, so man-on-man action was still awkward and confusing for him, especially considering how good it felt.

"Alright, cholos, I arranged for a bitch," Príncipe said, addressing the Alcachutres in the center of the cell block. He stood proudly in front of them, letting his fat cock dry in the breeze. "One at a time. If anyone tries to get in there before Julio says it's your turn, you will answer to me."

Julio nervously stood guard at the door to Barosa's cell. He didn't really feel comfortable holding back the swelling tide of Latin cholo flesh, but he knew he couldn't refuse an order from Príncipe, and in any case, none of the gathering thugs would dare violate Príncipe's orders.

Barosa looked at the gathering Alcachutres and said, "Wait, I'm not ready."

He began taking an exaggerated long time to prepare, washing his face and crotch, wiping his ass, cleaning up his cell, spreading some blankets and perfume around. He made sure everyone saw his pert cheeks as he wiped them down with a wettened napkin.

The gathering men grabbed at their crotches, some of the more prison-hardened cholos even dropping their pants and jacking off at the sight of Barosa's ass. They hooted and catcalled in Spanglish, demanding that they be let in. But nobody tried to push into the cell.

Julio stood at the door, nervous and awkward. He was much smaller than the other Alcachutres, who eyed hum hungrily. He wished Príncipe hadn't given him this task.

El Carcayú was right in front, already naked and erect. He was so horny he was ready to go in an instant, pushing hard against Julio's slender frame. Julio shuddered at the feel of Carcayú's cock on his thigh, but he knew better than to complain. Carcayú was a favorite of Príncipe's, who would have told Julio to stop being so squeamish about briefly touching a fellow Alcachutre's dick.

"Okay, I'm ready," Barosa said, and Julio let Carcayú in.

Carcayú grabbed Barosa's shoulders, bent him into position and lifted one of his legs up to give himself more leverage. Barosa could barely balance on one leg, and he thought about asking Julio for help. But he wasn't sure Carcayú would listen, and in any case, Barosa felt a burst of bliss as Carcayú rammed his dick in with no lube.

Barosa screamed in agony and pleasure, the feeling overwhelming his initial reluctance. His ass was tight with pressure as Carcayú wedged his thick cock deeper and deeper inside. Barosa arched his back and moaned. He always found Carcayú a little difficult to take, but the fucking was sweeter because he had to work at it.