for assault or statutory rape.'
And so Romo went to trial, and his lawyer didn't seem very surprised when he was convicted. They got him on the Mann Act and on a variety of lesser Federal charges. Romo ended up in Lewisburg, a medium-security prison in Pennsylvania. And there…
'Fuck your own asshole!' he told the lifer who tried to press against the seat of his pants as the two of them worked in the bakery. The older man produced a handmade knife and stuck it under Romo's chin, digging the point into Romo's Adam's apple. 'No,' Romo choked. He had never made it with a man before, and he wasn't about to lose his anal virginity at twenty-two years of age.
But the lifer proved too strong for him, as did the threat of the knife. Romo found himself bending over, his trousers around his ankles as the older man held the knife blade against his balls from behind. And when the lifer spat on his hands and smeared the saliva over his prick and placed the cock head in the crack of Romo's ass and pushed forward until Romo bit his lower lip with pain and felt his asshole being stretched taut by the penetrating cock.
'I can't take it,' Romo groaned.
The rapist laughed. 'You're taking it very well, son.'
Romo thought of Donna, of her twelve-year-old body covered with bruises and welts. Suddenly he believed in God, and in the mercilessness of His revenge…
Being fucked in the ass wasn't the worst part of being in prison, not at all. What was frightening was the fact that he learned to enjoy anal, intercourse with the other men. Eight years was, after all, an awfully long time. Romo learned to fuck, and to be fucked; he slept with scores of men during his incarceration, men who-had they been on the outside-would have condemned all ass fuckers as fags. It was funny how being in prison reshaped your moral outlook, at least temporarily. Masturbation was as accepted an act as urination, and rectal mounting wasn't any more sinful-from the average prisoner's viewpoint-than heterosexual fellatio and cunnilingus were to Mr. and Mrs. Middle West.
Romo was glad to get out, of course. And he was happy to be back in the company of women; he still preferred vaginas to assholes even after eight years.
It took him a while to readjust, to get used to massaging clits instead of cocks, to stroking his cock into an opening without rubbing spittle all over it first. He did get over his experiences in jail in the end; yet his thinking would always be colored by the fact that the Establishment had made him spend eight years behind bars.
'You've lost your right to vote,' someone told him once, saying it as though Romo should be weeping over his loss of civil rights. Romo, too cynical to believe in democracy, simply laughed.
'When you're in the minority?' he said, 'a vote doesn't mean much.' And he knew that he was right.
GSI was Romo's salvation. The Group for Sensual Involvement-God, what a name! What a concept! What an opportunity for nonstop voyeurism and screwing! What the hell, he had to find some way of making up for those eight years. Not to mention getting back at the Establishment… What the hell, he liked to say, thinking of the authorities. J. Edgar Hoover, Richard Nixon, John Mitchell, fuck you!
Romo's hand was inside the runaway's panties. He was fingering the slick love lips, using his thumb to massage the clit.
'You're tickling me,' Tess said with a giggle.
'Only tickling?' Romo began to strum the clit with two fingers, and Tess suddenly stiffened.
'Well…' The girl put her arms around Romo and pulled his face against her chest.
'Let me get this goddamn bra off you,' Romo said, struggling with the hooks.
'Not now!… Oh!' She cried out, not at all unhappily, when he pushed one of the brassiere cups up and bit into the breast.
They were stripped to the skin within a minute or so, and Romo grabbed Tess by the ears. 'Blow me,' he said, his cock swelling as he spoke.
'Let's just fuck,' she begged.
'Nope. I want you to blow me first.'
'Oh, Romo!… ' She didn't really mind; it was all a game, and one they'd played before. With mock reluctance, Tess fell to her knees in front of him and took a good four inches of penis into her mouth, slobbering on it as she tightened her lips around the shaft. She sucked, licked, nibbled; Romo groaned, gasped, shuddered. All in all, it was a very nice beginning.
'Play with my balls,' Romo told her. He closed his eyes and smiled as the girl obediently took his low hanging testicles in her right hand and kneaded them gently, using her fingernails to tickle the wrinkled skin as she massaged the egg-like objects within the sac. He felt her other hand borne up to tug at the hairs playfully; the fingers then slid back along the perineum to his asshole, where she picked out bits of lint.
'Put your finger in my… ' He laughed. She knew what he meant without being told in detail. He looked down at her. He thought he could detect a grin at the corners of her cock-stretched mouth.
'Mmmmm,' she said. Romo moved his feet apart He stiffened in anticipation as her finger worked its way into the vestibule of his anus.
'Now,' he muttered, closing his eyes again and loosening the anal sphincter as best he could. He found himself thinking of prison again, of being fucked by the lifer and three other inmates, as Tess' finger disappeared into his ass…
There were four of them altogether. The lifer was holding him by his right wrist; a Mexican named Manuel had him by the left. There was a black man, a beefy character with a William Warfield voice, holding him by the left ankle so he couldn't flop around. And Constantin, sweet; muscular Constantin, was sliding to and fro in the hole between Romo's thighs.
'Christ,' Romo groaned, feigning discomfort but enjoying the fuck as he hadn't enjoyed a prison sex act in a long time. Constantin's cock was just the right size-long, but thin, eight inches of stiffness to push the shit back into Romo's guts without tearing his rectum in the process.
Romo's cock was pressed against the cold concrete floor. It was hard. He didn't want the others to know it, didn't want them to laugh in the knowledge that he was turned on by this phony rape scene, but he couldn't help himself. He began to move his hips back and forth, his cook rubbing against the concrete, the delicate and sensitive nerves just below the knob savoring the contact of skin and manmade stone.
The others were laughing at now. Rich laughs, belly laughs, uproarious har-har-har reactions to Romo's unwitting confession of sexual need. He tried to stop, but he couldn't; he kept on rubbing, kept on scraping his cook against the concrete, harder and harder and faster and faster, keying each thrust to the quickening movements of Constantin's cock in his ass.
I'm coming, he thought And he was. All over the place-rich canals of white jism forming on the concrete floor.
They laughed at him when he rolled over. One of the men bent down and stuck a finger in the semen, then smeared it on Romo's forehead. 'Fuck you,' he said. And he did, a few minutes later. That was the nice thing about having friends like these. You got to have it both ways…
'Eat me,' Tess said, grinning as she wiped his jism from the edges of her mouth.
'Yeah, sure.' Romo, his cock soft and his body weakened from the climax, got down on his hands and knees and waited for her to spread her legs. He looked at the girl's crotch, at the glistening lips with the trickle of juice that was emerging from between them, and he felt happy, so happy that he wanted to cry out. He restrained himself, however, contenting himself with a good taste of Tess's cunt.
'Eat it nicely,' Tess giggled. 'Make it a real seven course dinner.'
Romo smiled. 'How could I possibly resist? You truffle, me gourmet.'
'Romo?' The voice on the phone sounded familiar.
'God, Lisa!' His guts did a quick jerk.
'I was afraid to call you.'
'Why?'
There was a pause as the girl gathered her thoughts. 'I don't know.'
'You never know anything,' he said, laughing. 'I know that I wasn't too happy when you fucked that runaway in front of me.'
'Oh… Tess.' He felt a pang of sadness. 'She left a month ago.'
'Really? How come?'
