Play Pen Five
By Bald Hairy Man e mail bldhrymn@aol.com or at Bldhrymn@excite.com
This is a fantasy, for men, not kids, not for anyone who got to this site by accident, not expecting to find gay stories. No effort at realistic or safe sexual practices has been made. If you have any comments, please send them to me at bldhrymn@aol.com
Breakfast was pure business. Charlie had used the night to formulate a plan to use the taping information to his, and our, advantage. He didn't tell me what his plans were since he wanted to deny any planning or calculating on his part. He had lost interest in sex. I guessed the smell of blood was stimulating enough for him. He left early to talk to his brother, thanking me for the entertainment.
Catfish and Chuck set about fixing up the slave quarters, and I was forced to admit that they knew what they were doing. They were both skilled and knowledgeable about construction. I spent most of the weekend hauling materials for them. A month later they had the building fully habitable. I hired plumbers to add bathrooms. The two men became permanent tenants.
Monday, Charlie's two men arrived as did a man from John Adams' prison. The psychologist was Ram Singh, an immensely impressive Sikh. Ed Jones, a tall thin electrician joined Beau's maintenance staff. Karl Maybury, was a new guard.
Maybury was a red bear, middle height, heavy, bearded and outgoing. He would have been Santa-like were his hair not copper. Ed had thinning hair, and a hang dog look. His specialty was recording and surveillance devices. I wondered if Charlie knew more about my operation than I did.
Ram was spectacular. Six-four, with a turban and full beard, and 240 muscular pounds, he was imposing. He spoke English with an Oxford accent, and was almost European looking except for his dark skin tone. Maybury and Jones I could leave to Butch. Singh needed more careful attention. I asked him to stay after my introductory talk.
"We haven't had a staff psychologist in two years. I am glad to have you here." I said. " Dr. Fred has been doing what he could, but there are enough physical problems with the prisoners to occupy him full time."
"The line between punishing a man and destroying him is a fine one." Singh said. The contrast between his upper class accent and exotic appearance was disconcerting, but attractive. "The prison I was at handled only the most hardened cases, and there wasn't much chance for me to be helpful."
"Are you a crusading man?" I asked.
He laughed. "No, I'm not a member of the Salvation Army. I have no hope for the evil or vicious. The confused, stupid and mentally ill, I can help." He paused. "Warden, why was I sent here? Is there a problem in my record?" The directness of his question took me aback.
"Do you want the official reason or the real one?" I asked, fighting frankness with frankness.
"I'd like them both." He said.
"Officially you are meeting a long term need of this institution. Your comments about anyone's ability to deal with hardened criminal types were recognized, and we felt you would be of greater use here." I said.
"And?" Singh said, expecting the answer for the rest of the question.
I then explained the scheme I was working on for a safe haven.
"Does it show? That I am gay?" He asked looking concerned.
"Not that I can see. Warden Smith is a much more perceptive man than he looks." I replied. "Being a grotesquely insensitive red-neck is a politically expedient guise for him."
Singh laughed. "He does it so well! He fooled me."
"Lots of people thank that until they discover he had cleverly inserted a knife in their back, and they didn't even notice!" I said.
"Machiavellian?"
"Machiavelli was a pussy cat compared with Warden Smith." I said. I then told him about the exercise class and the steam room. He looked more than interested.
He then looked worried. "How will the . . . other participants in this experiment react to have a man of a different race in the group?"
"I don't know. This is not a democracy. They will do what Butch or I tell them too." I said. "Although it would help if you were hung like a horse!" Singh got up, unzipped his pants and pulled out the eighth wonder of the world.
"Will this do the trick?" He asked.
"It sure will. Do you like to use it?" I asked.
"They called me Randy Ram at Oxford. If men could get pregnant, I would have doubled the population of England. I came to rural Virginia to try and control my libido."
"Did it work?" I asked.
"Not at all!" He said laughing. "The lack of playmates has reduced the opportunity, but the desire remains unabated." He stuffed the cock back in. I explained the rules. He said he could live with them.
"I'll see you at the exercise class." I said, closing the conversation.
Exercise class that night was full, with the new men joining the group for the first time. Catfish and Chuck seemed to attract Ed. Karl was with Carter and Beau. The red bear joined the black and polar bears. Ram gravitated toward Dr. Fred and Paul. After an hour the new men were comfortable and were talking like old friends.
You could cut the sexual tension in the shower room with a knife. Karl entered the room with Beau. As I had guessed curly red hair covered Karl, and his cut cock head poked out from a copper colored bush. You never know how big a bear cock will be until he gets hard. That would wait until later.
Hang dog Ed was thin and straggly. Mouse brown hair connected this tits then connected to his pubic hair by a hair trail. His cock was six inches soft, and meaty compared with his body. His balls dangled low. When he saw Catfish naked, I recognized genuine, red-neck lust.
Ram entered the shower room with Butch. Ram's muscular body was covered in dark silky hair. With no turban his hair hung to the middle of his back. His cock was eight inches soft, and as thick as a beer can. Chuck saw it and said, "Holy shit!" Ram smiled. He must have been accustomed to attracting attention.
The room was crowded now so there were plenty of opportunities for bumping into each other. The conversation remained casual, but cocks were beginning to rise. Ed and Karl looked a bit worried as they rose to half staff. I walked over to them and asked if they wanted to go to the steam room. They saw that I was well beyond half staff and said sure. They knew an invitation to fun when they saw it.
Paul sat with the bears on the top seat. Dr. Fred joined Chuck, Catfish and Ed on the lower seat. Butch and Ram were like cats in heat. Their passionate embrace was matched by grinding their cocks together. Since Butch was busy, I gave the orientation speech.
I varied Butch's introductory talk with the old favorite we-work-hard-and-we-play-hard routine. "However, as you can see, playing hard has special meaning for us here." I said. "We have some rules that we very strictly enforce, but we also have some special . . .," I paused. "Benefits for those who obey the rules." By this time Catfish was playing with Ed's balls, and working a finger into his ass. Paul was sucking Karl to full erection, and Ram and Chuck were on the floor in the sixty-nine position.
"Now boys, if you pay attention it's ok to play." I said. Catfish took this as an invitation to suck Ed. Ram and Butch were in their own world. Beau and Carter sat next to Karl, playing with his tits and letting him jerk them off. Dr. Fred watched Ram with lust, and I continued my speech. I explained the rules, but saw that Paul's ass was at a convenient level so I popped my cock in it. Paul had a small tight ass that was always a pleasure.
He told me once that he dreaded the thought of being fucked, but always liked it when it happened. I never warned him when I was going to screw him, and that proved to be a good arrangement. Karl looked shocked when I fucked the guy blowing him, and then he came. Paul slurped it all up. When Karl was finished, Beau redirected his mouth to suck Carter.
Ed moaned as he shot. Catfish took it all. "Willy, look at that!" Dr. Fred said. I looked at Ram and Butch on the floor. They were both cumming, but Ram would tense up, obviously shoot a load, then relax as Butch tensed up and squirted. They alternated. It was oddly rhythmic. Dr. Fred, always the scientist was counting the ejaculations. He stopped counting at twenty-four. They broke apart, winded.
I gave Paul a few quick thrusts and shot as Carter came. Paul's rectum contracted as I injected my load deep inside him. He was shooting. This was to have been a casual fuck on my part, a pleasant recreational interlude. But, my orgasm wouldn't stop. I felt the cum build up slowly, then reach the unbearable point, it squirted, long and slow. Then it repeated. Over and over again. Beau saw my excitement, stood on the first seat of the steam room and offered me his cock. I took it eagerly and the second my tongue touched his cock head he started to shoot. The first shot dribbled on my tongue. The second hit the back of my mouth.
I hadn't taken Beau's juice in a while and had forgotten the rich creaminess. I also forgot how much cum he made in his big balls. We all began to calm down and break apart. "That's enough for one day. Unless some one else needs some attention. We can finish the orientation later in the week. I'll see you all tomorrow." I announced.
Ed came up to me later, after we had dressed. "Warden. Do we get to do this every day?" He asked.
"Only if you want to." I replied. "It's not required. If you are uncomfortable, you don't need to participate."
"Oh, it's not that. I was just wondering if we could schedule a morning class too?" We both laughed.
"You liked it?" I asked.
"Hell, I have thirty six years of liking and wanting that I've never been able to do much about." Ed said. "Yes, I liked it." He paused and said under his breath. "Is there anything off bounds?"
"I am sure there is, but we haven't found it yet. If all the participants are willing." I said. Then I remembered Butch's training program. "Or at least not that unwilling."
"Hot dog!" Ed said as we left the locker room. The next day I discussed the men with Dr. Fred. Ed and Chuck both had the look of men who were used. Life had not been good to them. Dr. Fred noticed that Chuck was looking better after two months with us.
"You know that primitive tribes think you get strength from other men's sperm?" Dr. Fred asked.
"I"ve heard of it." I said. "Sounds like fun to me. Is this scientific-anthropological information or just wish fulfillment?"
"It is anthropological-scientific wish fulfillment!" Dr. Fred laughed as he said this. "I think Chuck is one of those guys who was brought up to despise gays, and then discovered he was one. This is the first time he has been able to enjoy himself with men he likes. You can't get more macho than Butch or Carter. Did you see the look in his eyes when Butch deep throated him the first time?"
"You may be right." I said. "Gay stereotypes seem to be either Queen-of -Heaven interior designers, or leather clad bikers. There is nothing in the middle. Those images don't help a man like Chuck. Have you ever played with a real queen?"
"Jackson Wright. "Dr. Fred said. Wright was a notorious local florist.
"Shit Freddy! I did Jackson too!" I laughed. "All queen on the outside, all cock on the inside. Lots of fun, unexpectedly, I might add."
"Double jointed!" Fred said and we laughed. "We never got together again, he wasn't my type nor was I his. Still, it was pleasant enough. He calls me when friends of his needs help. A heart of gold."
"He's good about warning me when there is a problem in the prison. He gets wind of some things before I do" I said. "The gay telegraph can be very impressive sometimes."
"Ram seems to fit in well." Dr. Fred said.
"Have you ever encountered a man that well endowed who wasn't self confident?" I asked. "Is there something deep in our prehistory that makes us admire a man with a big cock? "
"It seems that way if our group is indication. And cock size seems to be it. Catfish is self confident and as short as Ram is tall." Fred said. "They know what counts in the shower room. Although, if I ever meet a big cocked, insecure man, I would be glad to help him with some self confidence lessons!"
Dr. Fred had to go to an appointment, so we broke off the conversation. He was gone for a few minutes and an alarm went off. Trouble. Automatic doors were closing every where in the prison, and I rushed to the central monitoring station down the hall from my office. Butch was already there and twelve men assembled in the situation room next door. They were our version of a SWAT team. Some prisoners had begun a fight in the dining hall.
I could see on the monitor screen that the dining hall staff had everything under control quickly. We did not need the SWAT team. The prison would immediately go into lock down. Fights were sometimes decoys for an escape attempt, so all the staff would be under full alert of three or four days. Butch went to interrogate the prisoners who were fighting. I returned to my office dreading the increased paperwork any violent episode entailed.
Butch returned an hour later. "Lover's tiff!"
"They admitted it?" I asked incredulously.
"Hell no, but that's what is was. Butch said. He explained that the older prisoner in the fight thought that his special friend was making advances at a newly arrived drug dealer. "I'm afraid the thought that the cock he was feeding the guy was no match for the prospect for cocaine the dealer offered. I don't think there is anything else to the fight." I hoped that Butch was right.
"Who's going to need to stay over?" I asked. We doubled up the guards after an incident and most pulled double shifts. Some men lived too far away to get home so they stayed over. There was a staff dorm for men who had to stay, they used the showers in the exercise room so that room would be off limits for a while. I usually accommodated a few men at my house.
He suggested that Ed and Karl join me so I could get a better chance to know them. He would stay in the other guest bedroom as usual. Juan was going to spend the night with Catfish. He had been a bit shaken up by the fight. He was next to the men and came close to being hurt.
I got back to my house around six and made dinner. At 7:30 Ram arrived and gave me a report on the two troublemakers. Butch's guess was right. A lover's tiff with no significance other than that.
"The older prisoner was genuinely hurt when the kid decided to pass up his regular fuckings for a snort of cocaine. Not only did this offend the guy, the kid was putting out for the pusher to get or coke when he got out of prison. A lay away plan." Ram said. "It was a bottom now, get paid later deal."
"It would take a hell of a lot of ass to pay for much cocaine!" Karl volunteered. The conversation degenerated into a discussion of the number of fucks it would take to equal a gram of coke. Ed suggested that the size of the fucker might be the determining element in the equation. Juan volunteered that a person strung out on drugs could take the Empire State Building up his ass if it got him high again.
This turned the conversation to focus on Catfish and Ram, the two horse hung members of the group. Catfish said that booze seemed to improve his chances of fucking, once he was three or four inches in, the guys seemed to sober up fast. Ram said he had the same experience. It was getting late so I called an end to the discussion. I was ready for bed.
I took a shower, got in bed and was almost asleep, when Butch came in the room. Ram felt like fucking, and Butch didn't want to take it that night. He had shot earlier and needed a full load in his balls before taking Ram. The night was young.