Another day down.
As i sit cross legged on my bed,
i survey my all too familiar surroundings.
The cell is a mess.
Despite it being a glorified public lavatory,
one tries to keep it in a somewhat orderly
fashion.
It certainly ain't no fresh pad, condo,
apartment or any other typical living
quarters that you might inhabit, but
for now it is all i have at the moment,
and i try to keep things tidy,
organised and presentable.
At this very moment,
it's seen better days.
An anonymous baffoon knocked my shelf down earlier
today, sending plastic cutlery, stamps, bottles of vitamins and
sugar packets all over the fuckin' gaff.
i havn't bothered to pick them up.
In front of me sits my bag of clean laundry.
It's stuffed into my pillowcase,
as i don't quite have the funds for a 'proper'
laundry bag.
Man's gotta make do.
My boy dropped it off before we where
abruptly locked down a few hours ago,
due to someone getting humourously
slapped up on the floor..
My clothes are still warm from the dryer.
I just put my shorts on, now my dick is warm.
It feels good.
I should probably take my clothes out and fold them
instead of sitting here scribbling away.
That would be way more productive,
but i want to enjoy this penis warming sensation
a little longer.
It feels somewhat similar to having your balls cupped.
Which is nice.
Considering i jerked off earlier today,
i really shouldn't be feeling this horny.
Jerking off in prison requires expert timing.
Me and my cellie have such a rapour,
that if he's shitting and i need to get something
out of the cell, i just go in and get it.
An vice versa.
It's got to the point where knocking is a thing
of the past..
..Which can lead to problems if you're not shitting...
You get me.
Example.
It'd been about a week i hadn't jerked off.
It was time to deplete my rapidly rising semen levels.
My cellie was nowhere to be seen.
I assumed he was at work, so put the 'shit sign' up.
This consists of wedging a t-shirt or towel over the
glass with a toothbrush or spoon.
Classy.
A brief terminator style scan of the room revealed two
possible sources of visual stimulation.
A celebrity gossip magazine and a copy of Vogue.
In no time at all,
i swiftly unsheash a length of Turkish Sujuk and begin
the laborious process of milking ones member.
Oh how the mighty hath fallen..
..In less than a year i've gone from a lifestyle consisting of
unadultered daily doses of blowjobs and butthole to masterbating
once a week in a prison cell over a picture of Jessica Alba buying a coffee..
In between me strangling this one eyed Turkish snake while
squeezing my balls, i hear someone approaching the door.
Amazing.
I'm about ten seconds away from firing off millions
of kids and now someone is fucking banging at the door.
"YO! TIMDAWG! YO!"
Utterly fantastic.
"YO TIMDAWG YOU SHITTIN?"
Fuck.
FUCK.
I need to think FAST.
If i say yes, he's going to come in the cell.
If i say no, he's going to come in the cell.
FOR FUCK SAKE!
I'm too close to cumming to even consider
whacking my gun back in the holster, i've
got to say something..
"errr...gimme a minute?!"
"THIS FREAK N****R ALWAYS BEATIN' HIS MOTHER FUCKIN' MEAT!
TIMDAWG! HURRY THE FUCK UP, STUPID N****R!"
Cum is reluctantly shot.
Anti-climax of biblical proportions.
I need to get the fuck out of jail.
Uh, yeah, try not to wank so much in prison. Maybe play the Euro Millions Lottery instead.
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