Chapter 10
And then he disappeared. I had no idea what happened. I immediately thought back to what Iker had told me about how Emiliano just left college for the summer break and was impossible to contact.
It went on for three days. I was slowly going nuts. I missed him so much. I went to his classes for him, did his homework, and after the first twenty- four hours of silence, I texted and called him relentlessly. But there was no response.
I would have gladly gone over to do laundry, clean the place, or make him things to eat. I would even have gone on dates to make him money. But nothing. And I was so horny for his cock. All I could think about was him shirtless, sagging in his CK's and being a tease.
Finally, on the fourth day I went over there, because even Iker hadn't heard from him. I knocked and knocked but there was no answer. I thought maybe I would just sit there in the hall, outside his door, like a puppy. I had brought his homework and a bottle of water, in case I had to wait.
Finally, a fat woman opened the door to her place, across the hall. She had a cigarette in her mouth and wore sweatpants and just a bra. "He ain't coming home any time soon, the bastard."
"What do you mean" I stammered, getting up from the floor.
"Pigs took his crazy ass away a few days ago, finally. Mean prick. Got what he deserved. Always nasty to us and arrogant too."
"But for what?" I asked.
"Rape, s'far as I heard it" she said.
Rape, I thought? Emiliano didn't need to rape anybody. People begged him for his body.
"No way" I answered.
"Yup. Heard the cops say it was some waitress, and Mr. God's Gift to Women finally got caught."
"Where would they take him?" I asked.
"Sounded like the OPP" she said.
I'd heard of it. Everybody in town knew of the infamous Orleans Parish Prison. It was a madhouse, an out of control place filled with of corrupt guards and staff and who gives a fuck inmates, the worst of the worst in the state.
I immediately bolted, and got back in his old car. I headed downtown. Turned out it was still early enough for visiting hours. I waited an hour and finally he was brought out to see me.
He looked none the worse for wear. His hair was a little longer and a little greasy and he had four days-worth of scruff on his face. He wore just a dirty wife-beater and some sagging orange prison jump pants.
He sat down in a plastic chair, and looked at me through the bullet proof glass window. He took up a phone and I copied him, concerned.
I spoke first. "Emiliano, what happened? Why didn't you call me for help or bail?"
He replied cautiously and quietly. "Listen faggot, I don't want you coming around here. Bad for business, if you get me.
And unless your family's richer than I think, and stupid too, they don't have enough money for rape bail. I know my family don't. So get the fuck oughta' here and don't come back. These niggers in here will carve your skinny white faggot ass up into their own personal cunt.
I gulped, and tried to express some worry about his safety, but he cut me off.
"I never really liked you. I just used you for stuff and money. You weren't even that good of a cocksucker. Your boyfriend sucked my dick much better. Fuck off." And he hung up and got up, never looking back.
I was too stunned to leave at first. Finally, a guard rousted me and sent me on my way. When I got back to Emiliano's car, someone had smashed in the back window.
I drove around and around, confused, badly hurt, and adrift. I finally found myself just off Bourbon Street, and went into a small, dirty old bar. Eight rum and cokes later I found myself in an alley behind the bar, getting fucked up the ass by a guy in a pair of leather jeans and a grey sleeveless tee, who used a little lube on me but no condom.
When he was done, he turned me around and smacked me across the face, calling me a dirty faggot whore. Cum ran down from my ass. I sat down and cried. Not for me, but for Emiliano. He needed me. And I hadn't coming up with a plan, just got drunk.
I managed to drive most of the way home before I ran off the road near the campus and hit a parked car. As luck would have it, a cop was across the street and saw everything. He gave me a DUI test, which I failed miserably, and I found myself at the precinct, sleeping it off.
The next day around eight a detective had me brought to an interrogation room. He pressed me to plead guilty and get it wrapped up. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. I asked him if I would be released or locked up, after I copped a plea.
It turned out I would have been released if I made bail. If I didn't make bail, I'd head to the OPP. My mind was made up easily. I told him no one would bail me out, but I would plead guilty if he agreed to have me locked up as a cellmate of an Emiliano Delgado.
I could tell he thought it was weird, but a guilty plea this easy was hard to pass up. He suddenly started treating me differently too. The request to be bunked with a prisoner didn't seem street to him, but more probably gay. He started making jokes about a skinny white boy like me needing to find a protector in a place like Orleans Parish.
But I knew this was my lucky day. I had a one-way ticket to be re-united with Emiliano, and I was gonna' do whatever he said, and make sure I took good care of him while he was in the joint.
The paperwork took some time, but around five they came to take me to the OPP. There was a lot of barbed wire, that's what I remember most. I had never been in a place like this, being an upper middle class white kid from the suburbs.
I had to strip to be searched, changed into prison underwear, orange jump pants, and a white wife-beater. I was given shower sandals. They took my wallet, cell, and street clothes. They handed me a small pile of prison clothes. They told me the rules. The guard smirked when he said "I hear you figured out a way to get in the same cell with your boyfriend."
Finally, he led me to my new cell. My heart pounded so fast I thought I would die. Emiliano would be so glad to see me, and would marvel at my ingenuity! He's let me keep the place clean, I'd watch his back and he'd watch mine, and when we were alone he'd let me blow him. It was perfect.
As we walked, we passed dozens of cells. Most the inmates were black or Latino. Most had braids or dreads. And they were almost all shirtless. I must have been the only guy in the place without any ink. A 6' 3" brother, no more than 19, grabbed his crotch and blew me a kiss. Further down a muscular dude, his body gleaming with sweat, had his pants so low that you could see the outline of his hard on in his grey prison underwear. He stroked it and glared.
The guard ran his club along the bars, waking Emiliano up from a nap. "Asshole, your boyfriend is here."
Emiliano looked up from his bunk, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't believe that it was me. I smiled, so ready to be welcomed!
"What the fuck?" he said. "You can't be serious. I don't want this faggot in my cell."
"Tough shit, tough guy. Apparently his daddy or somebody pulled some strings so you two could be together. Never seen that before, but here he is, ready to be fucked!"
My heart hammered from the excitement, his lack of enthusiasm, and the possibility that he would fuck me.
The guard pushed me in, and I fell, and dropped my extra clothes. He just slammed the door closed and walked away, muttering "Fuckin' faggots."
I looked up expectantly. Emiliano got up and grabbed me by the throat. He threw me on his bunk. "You fuckin' queer. How dare you pull a stunt like this?" he was furious, but he kept his voice low.
He pulled his prison pants and underwear down, exposing his big, tattooed cock. Sure enough it was hard already. He always got instantly hard when he was beating on someone.
He leapt on the bunk, straddling me. "This what you went to all this trouble to have, freak?" and he plunged his long, steel hard cock into my mouth. I opened all the way, prepared to deep throat him, as it was so long it would have to go down my throat a little.
He proceeded to mouth fuck me for about three minutes. I choked a few times but mostly took the punishing. I wanted his cock in me so bad. He pounded my face, his heavy balls banging against my chin.
Under his breath, he muttered "You fuckin' cocksucker. You nasty little faggot freak. This what you been dreamin' about?" and he finally released his load down my throat.
I swallowed it all gratefully, and then lay still, awaiting my punishment. He punched me in the gut, then slapped me viciously across the face. He stood up and pissed all over me. "That's your bed now, cunt."
And with that he moved over to his new bunk, pulling his pants up, and falling into a dead sleep. He needed that, I knew, and I was so glad that I was here to give him what he needed.
THE END
Thanks for reading guys, and for all the helpful and twisted story ideas and suggestions. I heard you, that many chapters were too short, but it was fun to write, especially when you have a loyal following.
A danger in writing in the first person is that some of you thought I was Emiliano's punk, but I'm not really like him at all. Anyway it was a blast and I'm glad I got you off.
For photos of what I imagined Emiliano to look like, google 'Brazilian male model Marlon".
Justin abbottjustin16@yahoo.com