“You were good,” I said, keepin’ my voice even an’ calm. “You keep quiet about it an’ I’ll be the only one who gets you while you’re in. You let anybody know I did it? You’ll get ten guys a night up your ass, an’ one of ‘em’s sure to have AIDS. So play it smart.”
Then I crawled back onto my bunk an’ faked like I was asleep. I knew he wouldn’t pull nothin’ on me, but I played it safe, just in case...listenin’ for him to make any kind of a move. But all he did was stay in his bunk, breathin’ hard, probably thinkin’ ‘bout that I’d said. What he’d done. There wasn’t another whimper out of him. The next mornin’, he acted like it’d never happened.
So did I. It was better’n thinkin’ ‘bout what I’d felt with him. Better’n facin’ up to how great it’d been. An’ what that’d mean to me.
I had him in my cell for the whole eight months he was in -- he got an early out -- an’ I fucked him every other night. I made him shoot every time I wanted to, too. Not every time; just every time I wanted to. To show him who’s boss. It was too fuckin’ cool. Gave me this feelin’ of total control, decidin’ which night I’d get him off an’ which I wouldn’t; the nights I decided not to, I’d put him face down on his bunk to fuck him. Messed with his mind, too, not knowin’ which night he’d wind up on his back or on his belly. ‘Course, none of those fucks were as good as that first one, for me, but a couple got close.
Funny thing is, it got me to wonderin’ if it was just him who got off on bein’ fucked, so once he was gone, I tried it out on any other guy who crossed my cell or I took a likin’ to. Didn’t matter if he was spendin’ his first night in or was a third-striker, if I wanted him, I took him the way I took that kid -- legs in the air. An’ lemme tell you, most of th’ little fuckers did the exact same thing while I was fuckin’ ‘em. All but a few, an’ all but one or two of them still got wood; but for some reason, the non-woodie guys got me to fire faster than the others so I guess I didn’t have the time to make my stuff work on them.
Anyway, that’s how I knew the skinny-assed faggot’s line wasn’t exactly bullshit. I knew exactly how to rape a straight guy. An’ I was findin’ I kind of missed it. An’ that thought really spooked me. I mean, I’m straight, y’know. Only time I ever fucked guys was in Mid-State, so that don’t count. Not really. It’s prison an’ you do what you gotta to fill the need. But to miss it? To wish you were still doin’ it? That...that was freaky. Stopped me cold. Made me wonder if I oughta just drop the brew an’ walk. To get away before I started thinkin’ too much an’ got myself back in prison. But the brew was a cold one an’ the faggots weren’t ready to reel in, yet. An’ I wasn’t really set to face Connie. So I blew it off, smirked at Wayne an’ sneered, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”
Wayne looked at me like I was scum an’ nodded his thick faggot head an’ sneered, “An’ just who’re you -- ‘Masters an’ Johnson’?”
I thought about punchin’ his faggot teeth down his faggot throat, for a second, but I knew that’d kill the beer run an’ probably land me back in jail since I was still on probation. So I just got real close to him an’ whispered, “I don’t know fuck about this ‘Bastards an’ Johnston’ shit, but I do know what happens to a guy when I fuck him -- he gets hard an’ he cums. Every time.” Yeah, I know, I know -- it was bullshit. But hey -- it never hurts to build up what you can do, not when you’re advertisin’.
I must of said it meaner than I meant to ‘cause Wayne got too quiet. Like I’d just told him I was gonna cut off his balls, or somethin’. He wasn’t so gung ho on gettin’ hold of my dick, anymore -- but Lenny-boy, his eyes were on fire. He leaned over an’ said, “How do you know? Have you done time?”
I took this long dramatic pause then nodded an’ said, “Twice. Once in a county jail. Once at Mid-State.”
“Were you raped in prison?” he asked.
“Do I fuckin’ look like some faggot could fuck me if I didn’t want him to?” I sneered, then I winked at him. He was hooked. He’d pay me three hundred easy to hold him down an’ tear off his undies an’ ram my dick up his ass. Little pussy.
Wayne had to sneak over to the other side of the bar to get his voice back. “Okay, so you had a few experiences in prison. It’s different, in there. Men don’t have any other outlet.”
I laughed. “You been watchin’ that piece of shit “Days of our prison lives” on fuckin’ HBO, ain’t ya? Connie used to watch it to try an’ figure out what I was goin’ through. It’s so fuckin’ pathetic. Like some cornball out-of-touch ‘artiste’ knows the first fuckin’ thing ‘bout how life really is inside.”
“Connie?” Lenny asked.
Oops! Shouldn’t of dragged her into it. So I smiled an’ said, “My ex. Dumped me when she found out I’d...oh, done it with somebody besides her. An’ my right hand.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Wayne. “Maybe you forced yourself on a couple of fresh
