The Prison Husband Demonstrates His Love and His Hate in Startlingly Similar Ways E-Book

Gaylord Fancypants

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

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Charlie is in for the most intense prison experience of a lifetime! He's about to be prison wifed by an alpha thug named Jackson, who's got designs to turn out Charlie out... and then some!

Leseprobe

Contents

Title Page copy

Chapter One - Falling in Love

Chapter Two - Sharing That Love

Chapter Three - A Gift of Love

Gaylord Fancypants Endmatter copy

The Prison Husband Demonstrates His Love and His Hate in Startlingly Similar Ways: An MM Prison Noncon 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

Falling in Love

Charlie had gotten through his first day in Brutewood Prison and, so far, everything had gone very well. People more or less ignored him. He was processed along with several weaker men, included one disgraced cop and a pedophile, so they were the target of most of the ire from the other inmates.

When he returned to his cell after dinner, he saw his cellmate -- an elderly Latino man -- being led out on a stretcher. He was alive, but he looked sick. He had looked sickly since Charlie met him, but now he looked much sicker.

Charlie was nervous. What did that mean for him? Was he going to get a new cellmate? Maybe it'd be someone else new, he thought. Was this a good thing or a bad thing for Charlie? He had no idea.

Soon after dinner, his cell door opened, and a middle-aged black man entered. He was Jackson; he was wiry and ropy-muscled, not huge or bulky but powerful. He had a shaved head and a wide, flat nose that looked like it had been broken several times. He was covered in gang tats, including the underlined words NINE TATS on his belly -- Charlie knew that meant he was one of the head generals of the Nine Tats street gang.

Jackson stopped in the center of the cell, holding onto a box containing all of his belongings. The cell was open, since this was free time; anyone could just walk in or out. Jackson checked Charlie out from head to toe.

"Yo, you faggot, whiteboy?" Jackson asked.

"I-"

"Wait just a sec, boy, befo' you answer, I got somethin' to explain," he said. He spoke quickly but with great intent, like there was meant to be hidden subtext to everything he said. He had a very faint lisp like a pimp -- it wasn't very noticeable, but Charlie heard it. Charlie still hadn't really decided if he would tell people he was gay. Some had said he should, some had said he shouldn't. He had planned on playing it by ear.

When Jackson checked that no guards were around, he sat next to Charlie on the bunk. "Yo, lemme rap at you. But first, my name's Jackson, howdayoudo?" He smiled broadly and shook Charlie's head.

"I'm Charlie."

"Charlie. That's a pretty name. That's very good. I like that, boy," Jackson said. "Welcome to my cell. You should know this is my cell, alright? I be settin' all the rules in here. You got any kinda problem wit' that? Huh? You tell me now."

He leaned forward until his eyes were right in front of Charlie's, his lips so close he was virtually kissing him. "Yeah. You a faggot. I can tell. I can smell it on ya lips, yes, I bet you is. I can't wait to hear yo' answer. But don't say yet. I ain't finish askin' the question."

"Okay-"

"Shut yo' mouth. That's rule one. You don't speak unless I allow it, boy." He paused as though giving Charlie a chance to disobey him. Charlie's heart raced. Jackson smiled. He remained so close to Charlie their lips almost touched. "Good. Now when I ask if you a faggot, you gotta understand I's askin' cuz you gotta have a role. You gotta get somethin' to do around here, somethin' that contributes to the organization." He pointed to his Nine Tats tattoo. That entailed leaning back so Charlie could see it, which meant he finally pulled his face away from Charlie's. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. Jackson smiled at him. "Oh, that's the Nine Tats. They's my organization. See, if you say you ain't no kinda faggot, then when I rape you a little later, you gonna be my bitch. You gonna be prostituted out for a cigarette or two, ya dig? I'm gonna sell yo' ass. If I can find a way to sell yo' organs, that's what I'm gonna do. Okay? So that's option one. You can tell me you straight, and I turn ya body into cash any way that I can. You like option one?"

"No-"

"I ain't think so. It ain't popular. I think it's got a branding problem, you know? Like maybe if we call it the Doritos Extreme Prison Bitch Experience or some shit, you know, then people would give it a try," he said. "But option two might be better. Since I think you might really be a faggot, that's the one that might suit ya needs the best. See, in option two, you tell me you a faggot. Then I tell you that you my wife now. I will treat you right-" He held one hand up as though to forestall any objections. "Now I may still treat you wrong from time to time, cuz I am an imperfect man. We all just faded and disto'ted copies of God's glorious visage, ain't we?"

"Uh-"

"No talkin' just yet, boy, but I like yo' enthusiasm," he said. He gave Charlie a quick peck on the cheek. "If you my wife, I still rape you. I still gonna hit you when I gotta correct yo' behavior, and maybe a little fo' fun -- but I always make that up to you, baby, I always say I'm sorry and give you some sugar to make up for misbehavin'." He paused and smiled. "See? I normally give this little speech to straight boys who gonna pretend to be gay. I make love to they squirmin' virgin ass till they bore me and I sells 'em off. But you really a faggot, right?"

"Yeah-"

"See, now that's nice. You ain't gotta pretend. I might not get bored of you. I love fuckin' faggots. Once you fuck a straight boy hard enough, he stop fightin' back, then it's like fuckin' a dead fish. But a faggot, boy, I can make a faggot squirm for days," he said. He licked his lips. "Suck on my finger." He held up his middle finger, and Charlie sucked it down. It was callused and salty, and tasted a little of tonight's dinner -- hot dog and ketchup. Jackson licked his lips. "If you was straight and pretendin' to be gay, you'd be gaggin' right now, and I'd be saying that I fuck you so good you turn into a faggot fo' real. I tell 'em I know how to make 'em cum from the prostate -- you know about the prostate, right? Course you do, you a faggot -- I tell 'em that and make 'em tell me they like it. I make 'em jack off when I fuck 'em. Ain't nothin' better than a straight boy cumming when you fuck 'im."