**This is 3rd continuation of my "Soap Dropa" series. I recommend ther other two stories first.
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D made it perfectly clear that I am to be his own personal fuck slave. After talking he decided to give me some time to let it all sink in. I thought he was going to leave it up to me to decide when I was ready, but I guess he got tired of waiting. After a couple of days had passed, I was fast asleep when he violently pulled me from the top bunk.
"Ah-ight, Kiki. You've had plent o time o thank it ova, and I'm so damn hard ight now, you best get up on dis here dick." After that, he punched me in the stomach and mocked the breath out of me -- doubling me over in pain. When I started catching my breath, D's cock was staring me in the face. Compared to my wimpy over grown clit, D's penis was the epitome of what a real man's penis should be. It was at leas 11" long and fat as my wrist in the middle. I've seen black dick in pictures and Porno vids, and a lot of this dicks have splotches of light coloration or a lighter to Ed head, but D's was a black as his complection. I stretched my lips past the head down to where it expands unable to get any further. "that's the idea, now use ya hands and jerk on what you can't fit in ya cum catching mouf... Yeah, jus like that. Yoos a tru slut, isn't ya?" "mmmm-hhh," I garbled.
"Now I wants yoo ta pull dem white panties down fo a nigga... Don't worry, baby, once you be gettin used to only cummin wit dis dick up in ya, Yo new life as my girl gonna be real nice on Yo pussy.". I pull my tighty whites down slowly and ease my body down on the bottom bunk. I feel him rubbing a wad of spit on my pussy, sliding a finger in slowly. "jus try to relax, huh hu," he laughs.
He slaps his huge dick on my butthole and then I felt my rectum start to expand as he slid the head of is real man cock in. The pain is unbelievable, so I move my ass forward pulling his dick out. "Where you goin girl?" he asked as he grabbed my hips and pushed his dick back in. Oh my God, it is the most painful burning sensation I have ever felt. "I don't want to do this," I cried to him.
"Trust me," he comforts, "this ain't gonna be NEARLY as bad as what it would be if I turned dem Otha moths fuckas loose on a tight virgin white boi pussy like yos. You need to relax, for real. Once you get used to dis, you gonna cumlike you ain't Neva cum before. You gonna be da forth virin pussy I broke in and ever one o dem Otha sissy bitches o mine fell in love wit dis big black serpent o mine. Jus go wit it baby."
I realize that D speaks the truth. He has been very good to me, and I know I can't defend myself from being prison punk forever. I accept my fate and wimper, "yes, sir. I know you're right. I'll try to make the best of this."
D slowly works his cock fully in making short humping motions and reapplying generous amounts of his spit. To my surprise, and shame, He was right. It did feel good. It felt great. Before I knew it he was fucking me faster making full strokes. What I started loving the most was how the fat middle of his cock was stretching my ass over and over again. Without realizing it, I started humping his dick... Meet each stroke with my ass cheeks pounding against his muscular body. After about 15 minutes, D was pounding my new pussy with a vigor I couldn't believe had laid down to accept.
"Look at da doe bitch, D ordered." I looked over and saw in astonishment that Officer Burks, a beautiful bushy Blond guard a lot of the guys talk about jerking off to, is staring through door's skinny window. "Get chi some, D," she encourages. D darted fucking me even harder and faster and I could feel his dick getting even hard inside of me. I start to feel a tingle start behind my balls grow into what I could only explain as an orgas, but I wasn't touching my dick at all. I look down at it as I feel the tingle intensify to a climax. I could see my dick drooping Gobs and Gobs of cum onto D's blanket. Just then, be starts making wild grunts with his fully deep thrusts. Eventually he stops thrusting and glides his cock out of my gaping asshole. I start feeling his warm thick cum drip down my balls.
"did that just happen, I wondered. "Did I just get fucked and cum from it?". I knew that from that moment on, I would be D's girlfriend.
Looking back, I am really glad that he was the one to turn me out.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Soap Dropa: The Turn
**This is a continuation of my previous post "Soap Dropa: The Press Game." I highly recommend reading that first before this.
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When D's friend came in, the air became charged with a negative energy I hadn't felt since We had shared the cell. I got the distinct sense that I was not in on a joke of sorts. D and his friend, Mac, shared laughs in an exchange of conversation that was not very humorous.
Mac is built a lot like D and is a good 10 years older and has gray spots in his beard to show that fact. Mac lifts his shirt up to reveal three bags of red-ish liquid, and he poured three cups for us. I chocked the strange new atmosphere up to doing something polar opposite to the rules and take a cup from Mac when it is passed to me. Mac lifts his paper cup towards D's and says, "I'd like to drink dis here to Kiki's new life."
I tapped my cup to theirs while that chuckled and asked, "Who's Kiki?" They erupted with laughter and D responded by saying, "Jus' drink that down and don't worry 'bout it, kid." I did as I was asked. It smelt like rubbing alcohol in rotten grape juice and tasted worse. After that cup was empty I tilted another cup back. My eyes were closed as I let the buzz take over my body sending a warm calming chill down my arms and legs. D and Mac both scooted their chairs so that they were facing me.
Mac was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed in a way where his index finger rested on his chin and his eyes were in the unmistakable position for contemplation. He turns his head to D and says, "You wanna tell da punk what's up, or you want me ta do da dirta work?"
"I think I'll break the news to him... soften da blow," D replied.
"Yo, it's like dis here. I been showin you round a motha fucka da whole month, and I been feelin' ya out. Dis place 'aint like da world you been knowin'. See, in here, you either a hard hittin motha fucka or you ever body's bitch. It's dat simple, you herd? Now, I thought at first you might be hidin a rugged heart waiting to break out with some serious business against some of these mo'fuckas talkin smack atcha, but you aint. So the way I figure, you gonna be somebody's bitch eventually -- if not now it's bound to be da case soon. All I can do fa ya now break you into ya new life and make you my gurl. I know you might not like it just now, but dat's what's 'bout to happen, and you might as well jus' accept da facts."
I back out of the chair, and I'm pretty wobbly out of fear and being considerably buzzed. "What the fuck is going on!?" They're both in front of me, but I try to make a mad dash for the door any way. I started crying for help, and Mac reached up and punched me in my forehead. When I came to, the door was shut, Mac and D were both pulling my pants down, and they were making comments about the size of my dick. "She-it nigga, dat mo'fucka jus' been teasin dem bitches out in da world... looks like yo piece of ass be wakin' up," says Mac. I start crying.
"Now ya fucked up, I love to see my bitches be cryin when fuck," D chimed in. "Mac, I got all night with my new girlfriend here, you get yo wine's worth out da mo fucka den best be on yo way back before lights out." My eyes were still blurry, but I could see mac had pulled his pants down to his ankles and had his dick in his hands as he too short steps towards my face with it. His dick was in another category compared with what I got at birth. It was at least 8 inches and gets fat in the middle.
SMACK! Mac slapped me which jarred me into silence. "It's like this. You my bitch till you got my cum leakin out you, and dat better happen befoe dey be makin be get back to my cell an she-it. If you let one toof touch my dick, I'm ona rip ya goddamn balls off and let you bleed out, understood?" I nodded to signify I understood. "Good. Now get ta work. If I don't like what you be doin wit ya mouf, I'm onna break in dat nice virgin pussy you been holdin out wit."
I had never sucked a dick up in my life up to this point. I'm scared. I don't want to do this. I thought I was in a good situation, but I couldn't have misread the writing on the wall an worse.
"Look, I been showin you da ropes, and you know what I'm 'bout and know that there's some terrible shit gonna happen to you if you don't put my man Mac's johnson up in yo mouth," D demands. "And don't worry, he ain't gonna fuck yo lil' ass else I'll fuck him up and he know dat. I get dat ass tanight. I'm onna break yo lil cunt in proppa."
Mac's dick is on my lips now. He starts shoving it in slow, and my mouth can barely contain it. My Jaw is hinged fully, and the only way I can keep my teeth from scrapping is to wrap my lips over them like people do when they do impressions of old people with their dentures out. "Slide yo tonge up unda da head and down da shaft while I plunge," Mac instructs. I do so having no other choice. D's jackin' off watching the events unfold while I can feel Mac's dick getting bigger and harder as he starts to pump harder, faster and deeper until I can feel his dick hitting me in the back of the throat. "Holy fuck this lil' punk's mouf is da bomb. You sure you ain't neva done dis befoe," he jokes. "You've thought about befoe I knows."
I thought about it when he said that, I started thinking back to all the times I had jerked off watching a white girl get pummeled by a cock with an intensity no white man could provide, and I realized that I was really getting off on the thought of being the girl. Still, I'm being raped in the mouth right now. Why would I think about something like that right now? Mac's pumping faster and faster saying things like, "You remind me of my first girlfriend. Her name was Kiki and she sucked dick just like you. Oh shit. Oh shit. I'm about to cum and you betta not spill a fuckin' drop of my real man seed. Uh. Uh. OooOOoOOOOOOHHH Kiki!!!! I'm cummin ya mouth you lil' slut Kiki!!" He thrusts his dick past the furthest point he had before and held my head tightly on it as he start shooting shot after shot of his warm thick man spunk down my throat. His legs started to tremble and he shuttered some as he pulled his dick out of my mouth. He squeezed his dick in a stroke pushing another huge drop of his cum out of his dick where it rested in front of my face. Without any instructions, I leaned forward to clean the head of his dick taking his semen into my mouth where it was swallowed immediately. My jaws were sore as was the back of my throat where he pushed on it. I was relieved that the experience was over when I realized D was just getting ready to cum. He got up and held my head by my hair where my face was at a short distance from the dick he was working and he started shooting. the first shot hit me in the eye which I should have known better to keep open, and when it was all said and done, my whole face was covered in D's man cum and was slowly dripping off my chin.
Mac left, and D instructed me to clean up as he laid back down on his bottom bunk. Legs trembling and still buzzed, I washed my face in the stainless steel sink and crawled up in my top bunk.
"I wasn't jokin about takin dat ass of yoes. I just might cut ya a little slack tills you warm up to your new arrangement... Kiki," he added the last part as insult to injury. This is how I came to get my new name. Some people get cool prison names like Red, or Mad Dog... I get Kiki.
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When D's friend came in, the air became charged with a negative energy I hadn't felt since We had shared the cell. I got the distinct sense that I was not in on a joke of sorts. D and his friend, Mac, shared laughs in an exchange of conversation that was not very humorous.
Mac is built a lot like D and is a good 10 years older and has gray spots in his beard to show that fact. Mac lifts his shirt up to reveal three bags of red-ish liquid, and he poured three cups for us. I chocked the strange new atmosphere up to doing something polar opposite to the rules and take a cup from Mac when it is passed to me. Mac lifts his paper cup towards D's and says, "I'd like to drink dis here to Kiki's new life."
I tapped my cup to theirs while that chuckled and asked, "Who's Kiki?" They erupted with laughter and D responded by saying, "Jus' drink that down and don't worry 'bout it, kid." I did as I was asked. It smelt like rubbing alcohol in rotten grape juice and tasted worse. After that cup was empty I tilted another cup back. My eyes were closed as I let the buzz take over my body sending a warm calming chill down my arms and legs. D and Mac both scooted their chairs so that they were facing me.
Mac was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed in a way where his index finger rested on his chin and his eyes were in the unmistakable position for contemplation. He turns his head to D and says, "You wanna tell da punk what's up, or you want me ta do da dirta work?"
"I think I'll break the news to him... soften da blow," D replied.
"Yo, it's like dis here. I been showin you round a motha fucka da whole month, and I been feelin' ya out. Dis place 'aint like da world you been knowin'. See, in here, you either a hard hittin motha fucka or you ever body's bitch. It's dat simple, you herd? Now, I thought at first you might be hidin a rugged heart waiting to break out with some serious business against some of these mo'fuckas talkin smack atcha, but you aint. So the way I figure, you gonna be somebody's bitch eventually -- if not now it's bound to be da case soon. All I can do fa ya now break you into ya new life and make you my gurl. I know you might not like it just now, but dat's what's 'bout to happen, and you might as well jus' accept da facts."
I back out of the chair, and I'm pretty wobbly out of fear and being considerably buzzed. "What the fuck is going on!?" They're both in front of me, but I try to make a mad dash for the door any way. I started crying for help, and Mac reached up and punched me in my forehead. When I came to, the door was shut, Mac and D were both pulling my pants down, and they were making comments about the size of my dick. "She-it nigga, dat mo'fucka jus' been teasin dem bitches out in da world... looks like yo piece of ass be wakin' up," says Mac. I start crying.
"Now ya fucked up, I love to see my bitches be cryin when fuck," D chimed in. "Mac, I got all night with my new girlfriend here, you get yo wine's worth out da mo fucka den best be on yo way back before lights out." My eyes were still blurry, but I could see mac had pulled his pants down to his ankles and had his dick in his hands as he too short steps towards my face with it. His dick was in another category compared with what I got at birth. It was at least 8 inches and gets fat in the middle.
SMACK! Mac slapped me which jarred me into silence. "It's like this. You my bitch till you got my cum leakin out you, and dat better happen befoe dey be makin be get back to my cell an she-it. If you let one toof touch my dick, I'm ona rip ya goddamn balls off and let you bleed out, understood?" I nodded to signify I understood. "Good. Now get ta work. If I don't like what you be doin wit ya mouf, I'm onna break in dat nice virgin pussy you been holdin out wit."
I had never sucked a dick up in my life up to this point. I'm scared. I don't want to do this. I thought I was in a good situation, but I couldn't have misread the writing on the wall an worse.
"Look, I been showin you da ropes, and you know what I'm 'bout and know that there's some terrible shit gonna happen to you if you don't put my man Mac's johnson up in yo mouth," D demands. "And don't worry, he ain't gonna fuck yo lil' ass else I'll fuck him up and he know dat. I get dat ass tanight. I'm onna break yo lil cunt in proppa."
Mac's dick is on my lips now. He starts shoving it in slow, and my mouth can barely contain it. My Jaw is hinged fully, and the only way I can keep my teeth from scrapping is to wrap my lips over them like people do when they do impressions of old people with their dentures out. "Slide yo tonge up unda da head and down da shaft while I plunge," Mac instructs. I do so having no other choice. D's jackin' off watching the events unfold while I can feel Mac's dick getting bigger and harder as he starts to pump harder, faster and deeper until I can feel his dick hitting me in the back of the throat. "Holy fuck this lil' punk's mouf is da bomb. You sure you ain't neva done dis befoe," he jokes. "You've thought about befoe I knows."
I thought about it when he said that, I started thinking back to all the times I had jerked off watching a white girl get pummeled by a cock with an intensity no white man could provide, and I realized that I was really getting off on the thought of being the girl. Still, I'm being raped in the mouth right now. Why would I think about something like that right now? Mac's pumping faster and faster saying things like, "You remind me of my first girlfriend. Her name was Kiki and she sucked dick just like you. Oh shit. Oh shit. I'm about to cum and you betta not spill a fuckin' drop of my real man seed. Uh. Uh. OooOOoOOOOOOHHH Kiki!!!! I'm cummin ya mouth you lil' slut Kiki!!" He thrusts his dick past the furthest point he had before and held my head tightly on it as he start shooting shot after shot of his warm thick man spunk down my throat. His legs started to tremble and he shuttered some as he pulled his dick out of my mouth. He squeezed his dick in a stroke pushing another huge drop of his cum out of his dick where it rested in front of my face. Without any instructions, I leaned forward to clean the head of his dick taking his semen into my mouth where it was swallowed immediately. My jaws were sore as was the back of my throat where he pushed on it. I was relieved that the experience was over when I realized D was just getting ready to cum. He got up and held my head by my hair where my face was at a short distance from the dick he was working and he started shooting. the first shot hit me in the eye which I should have known better to keep open, and when it was all said and done, my whole face was covered in D's man cum and was slowly dripping off my chin.
Mac left, and D instructed me to clean up as he laid back down on his bottom bunk. Legs trembling and still buzzed, I washed my face in the stainless steel sink and crawled up in my top bunk.
"I wasn't jokin about takin dat ass of yoes. I just might cut ya a little slack tills you warm up to your new arrangement... Kiki," he added the last part as insult to injury. This is how I came to get my new name. Some people get cool prison names like Red, or Mad Dog... I get Kiki.
Soap Dropa: The Press Game
Hi, my name is Kiki, and this is my story of how I went from restaurant manager to what I have become -- a prison 'bitch' owned by black cock.
Before my extended vacation here behind concrete walls and metal doors, I managed a chain Tex-Mex sit-down called Tia's at the Riverchase Galleria in Hoover, Al. Back then, they used to call me 'Drew.' I had a blast fucking the barely legal waitreses and selling pot to the waiters. I made decent money between the baggies of grass and my sallary -- especially for a 23 year old kid... Life was good, or so I thought.
At work one morning, I had just had enough time to unlock the doors and had my openers start getting the place ready for business when this young piece of jail bait ass comes in wearing her short cut-off daisy dukes with an ass sitting inside that could turn a gay man straight (or something like that). She was looking for a summer job, and I hired her on the spot. Her name? Alice.
As it turns out, she was o a sophomore at Hoover High, but she could pass for a college sorostitute if you didn't know any better. I guess at school, she must have been pretty popular because business started Rockin after I hired her as a Hostess. It seemed like every time I looked over, she was saying hello to friends' parents and other High School crowds I hadn't seen come in before. She even had guys from local colleges smitten with her. They would sit on the same side of the booths just so they could keep an eye on her cute little ass. As a coincidence the uniform for her position included black short skirts and high-heel pumps.
At any rate, she was crushing on me pretty hard from the time she started working for me, but there was no way I was going to hit that. She was still 15, and I'm no fool. That's a boundary even I wouldn't cross at that time in my life. After turning her down on several occasions, we wound up at a party after work where she must have slipped something in my drink, because I can only remember snip-its of us fucking in the bartender, Mark's, bedroom. I woke up in a drunk tank feeling like hell the next morning.
I couldn't remember anything happening that would have caused me to wake up where I did. I normally would have crashed on Mark's couch under such circumstances. The events of that night I couldn't have imagined happening to me in my worst case scenarios...
One of the guards tosses a Hot Pocket (I shit you not) through a slot in the door and that was my breakfast... because that's what a man with crazy hangover blood pressure needs -- high sodium. Geese. I was in bad shape and flipping out over my situation not know at all why I was there.
I got my phone call, and Mom, through a cascade of audible tears, tells me that the family lawyer is on the way down to explain the situation to me. She arrived just before lunch, or at least that's when the guards took me to our private meeting room.
"Drew, why don't we start with you telling me what happened last night," Mrs. Jenkins suggests. She's a very attractive black woman in her mid thirties with a look in her eye that says 'You're not the kind of scum bag I went into debt to get my J.D. to protect.'
I recounted the night as best as I could -- straining to regain bits and pieces as I went. Often, I had my eyes shut, head bowed, and was tapping my hands on the table while reaching way back into my shallow memory bank to communicate as many details as I could. She then leans back and her shoulders drop as though she realizes the potential that I have been set up by Mark and/or Alice.
"Ok, now let me tell you in plain English what I know," Mrs. Jenkins beings to explain. "Early this morning, police received a call from a frightened drunk 15 year old girl who says you forced yourself upon her last night and that you attempted to strangle her wherein she was only able to escape by smashing a lamp over your head. When the police arrived, they found you knocked out in your Bartender, Mark's, bed. Upon searching your pockets, Officer Tucker found three individually packaged bags of Marijuana and a wad of $20 Bills all stashed in a Brown paper bag that they found in the front left pocket of your cargo shorts." Here's the thing -- I had sold all of my pot early into the party and I had already placed the cash from those sales into the glove compartment of my car. I tell her this, but she is not impressed with the information that would only further incriminate myself. The very nature of my drug dealing would negate any fiber of goodness in me that might remain in the eyes of a jury.
She continues, "The young girl was admitted into the hospital where a rape kit was administered, she was treated for minor injuries and then released. Are you also going to tell me that the semen they find won't match your DNA?" Unfortunately, one of the few snapshots of memory I have are of my dick pumping in and out of Alice. But in that memory, there was nothing violent taking place... I hadn't had any pot or drug money on me after I started to really party. I know myself well, and there's no way I would rape someone -- much less try to kill that person even in my most fucked-up state of mind. I'VE BEEN FUCKING FRAMED!!!
I chose not to take the plea bargain insisting that I was honestly innocent, and Mrs. Jenkins did the best she could for me, but when it was all said and done, a Jury sentenced me to a total of 25 years for rape, drug possession with intent to sale, and attempted man slaughter charges. "I'm fucked!" I said to myself in a hazy fog of unbelief that my life had just taken such a sudden and drastic turn that would at the very least rob me of my early adulthood. I'll be 48 when I get out unless I can get paroled early and possibly get some time off for good behavior. Regardless, what the fuck can I expect my life to be like at that point. No relative work experience and a Felony of this nature will be enough to ruin the rest of my life. To say I was suicidal when all of these facts sank in would be a vast understatement. I was under suicide watch and had countless sessions with a therapist who tried convincing me that it wasn't the end of the world.
Shortly after the sentencing hearing, I was transfered to a Maximum Security prison in Colorado. I was totally and utterly distraught.
After being processed into the facility, a guard was escorting me to my new cell. Apparently, my reputation preceded me as evidenced by the comments made by other prisoners on the way. "Damn, you're the fuck who been out rapin' children in the world... youse gonna be gettin fucked big time up in dis mo'fucka," one inmate said as we passed by a group playing cards in the common area. One of the biggest blackest men I've ever seen sitting next to that prisoner says, "Damn you a fine piece of ass... I can't wait till shower time. I 'aint gotten off ever since I found out about yo' stupid rapin' ass was comin'. You gonna get all this seed I been savin', you herd?"
"This be yo' new home you mo'fucka," the guard says in a suspiciously thuggish dialect. Voices are still outside the cell saying crazy things, and I'm on the verge of absolutely losing it. I am hit with another wave of pure and sober reality of where I'm at and that my life will never be the same.
I set my things down and start making the top bunk up. I finish that then find a seat in the chair next the bunk bead. I'm alone in the cell and I start looking around at the evidence of what my cell mate is going to be like. The first thing I notice is the shaving kit at the sink and how there are black curly hairs where he must have shaved several days of growth. The voices from the common area die down for a little while, and exhausted from the stressful day, I crawl up to the top bunk and try to sleep. My body will have none of it. I stare at the cracking paint on the ceiling dreading the inevitable meeting with my cellie. Is he going to be friendly or is he going to be some tatted out thug... no way of knowing what I am about to find out anyway.
After some amount of time that felt like a year but only amounted to a few hours, I hear a lot of footsteps headed towards their cells for what I later come to know as the 'count' where all prisoners are accounted for by staff before it's time for chow. Not long after that, I hear a pair of feet making their way into the cell. They stop abruptly.
"Fuckin she-it," says a deep aggravated voice. "I dun knowed dis single-cell shit'd be too good to last."
Out of pure instinct, I start apologizing explaining that I had no choice and didn't mean to invade his space.
"Well, look her mo' fucka. 'Aint yo fault lil'dude. What they be callin' you?"
We do the meet'n greet and I am relieved to find that "D," as he is known, is a very reasonable and friendly 6'3" black guy weighing in around 250-275lbs (all muscle). He tells me that since we're going to be staying in close quarters for a little while, he might as well look after me a bit and show me the ropes before the "perv mo'fuckas" start "layin' down day press game." He takes me to chow and lets me sit with his gang of thugs. They walk with me and make sure that nobody gets the bright idea to have their ways with my "bleached ass' booty." Nobody made any mention of why I was in there, and scared of the consequences of them finding out if they didn't already know, I dare not mention it. When D's friend Faze asks me, all I said was the truth -- I got set up for some shit I had no real part of. I did notice that after I answered, they all stopped eating and looked at one another. A couple in the bunch were definitely holding back a snicker.
The next couple of weeks put my mind at ease about having to adjust to life in prison. D's friend Dizzy set me up with a job cleaning the common areas and everyone pretty much looked after me. I didn't even hear but a handful of sexual threats and those were all murmurs to the effect of "You gonna get yoes fa'real." I paid it no mind and tried to stay positive.
After about a month and feeling pretty well adjusted to prison life, I started cutting up with my new friends more and more. Eventually, D let me in on a little secret that one of his buds has some pruno to share with us one night (pruno is a crude wine made of yeast, sugar, and fruit juice set to ferment).
His friend enters the cell after the count where we have two hour befor lights out to get our drink on. What was to happen next would change my life forever.
Before my extended vacation here behind concrete walls and metal doors, I managed a chain Tex-Mex sit-down called Tia's at the Riverchase Galleria in Hoover, Al. Back then, they used to call me 'Drew.' I had a blast fucking the barely legal waitreses and selling pot to the waiters. I made decent money between the baggies of grass and my sallary -- especially for a 23 year old kid... Life was good, or so I thought.
At work one morning, I had just had enough time to unlock the doors and had my openers start getting the place ready for business when this young piece of jail bait ass comes in wearing her short cut-off daisy dukes with an ass sitting inside that could turn a gay man straight (or something like that). She was looking for a summer job, and I hired her on the spot. Her name? Alice.
As it turns out, she was o a sophomore at Hoover High, but she could pass for a college sorostitute if you didn't know any better. I guess at school, she must have been pretty popular because business started Rockin after I hired her as a Hostess. It seemed like every time I looked over, she was saying hello to friends' parents and other High School crowds I hadn't seen come in before. She even had guys from local colleges smitten with her. They would sit on the same side of the booths just so they could keep an eye on her cute little ass. As a coincidence the uniform for her position included black short skirts and high-heel pumps.
At any rate, she was crushing on me pretty hard from the time she started working for me, but there was no way I was going to hit that. She was still 15, and I'm no fool. That's a boundary even I wouldn't cross at that time in my life. After turning her down on several occasions, we wound up at a party after work where she must have slipped something in my drink, because I can only remember snip-its of us fucking in the bartender, Mark's, bedroom. I woke up in a drunk tank feeling like hell the next morning.
I couldn't remember anything happening that would have caused me to wake up where I did. I normally would have crashed on Mark's couch under such circumstances. The events of that night I couldn't have imagined happening to me in my worst case scenarios...
One of the guards tosses a Hot Pocket (I shit you not) through a slot in the door and that was my breakfast... because that's what a man with crazy hangover blood pressure needs -- high sodium. Geese. I was in bad shape and flipping out over my situation not know at all why I was there.
I got my phone call, and Mom, through a cascade of audible tears, tells me that the family lawyer is on the way down to explain the situation to me. She arrived just before lunch, or at least that's when the guards took me to our private meeting room.
"Drew, why don't we start with you telling me what happened last night," Mrs. Jenkins suggests. She's a very attractive black woman in her mid thirties with a look in her eye that says 'You're not the kind of scum bag I went into debt to get my J.D. to protect.'
I recounted the night as best as I could -- straining to regain bits and pieces as I went. Often, I had my eyes shut, head bowed, and was tapping my hands on the table while reaching way back into my shallow memory bank to communicate as many details as I could. She then leans back and her shoulders drop as though she realizes the potential that I have been set up by Mark and/or Alice.
"Ok, now let me tell you in plain English what I know," Mrs. Jenkins beings to explain. "Early this morning, police received a call from a frightened drunk 15 year old girl who says you forced yourself upon her last night and that you attempted to strangle her wherein she was only able to escape by smashing a lamp over your head. When the police arrived, they found you knocked out in your Bartender, Mark's, bed. Upon searching your pockets, Officer Tucker found three individually packaged bags of Marijuana and a wad of $20 Bills all stashed in a Brown paper bag that they found in the front left pocket of your cargo shorts." Here's the thing -- I had sold all of my pot early into the party and I had already placed the cash from those sales into the glove compartment of my car. I tell her this, but she is not impressed with the information that would only further incriminate myself. The very nature of my drug dealing would negate any fiber of goodness in me that might remain in the eyes of a jury.
She continues, "The young girl was admitted into the hospital where a rape kit was administered, she was treated for minor injuries and then released. Are you also going to tell me that the semen they find won't match your DNA?" Unfortunately, one of the few snapshots of memory I have are of my dick pumping in and out of Alice. But in that memory, there was nothing violent taking place... I hadn't had any pot or drug money on me after I started to really party. I know myself well, and there's no way I would rape someone -- much less try to kill that person even in my most fucked-up state of mind. I'VE BEEN FUCKING FRAMED!!!
I chose not to take the plea bargain insisting that I was honestly innocent, and Mrs. Jenkins did the best she could for me, but when it was all said and done, a Jury sentenced me to a total of 25 years for rape, drug possession with intent to sale, and attempted man slaughter charges. "I'm fucked!" I said to myself in a hazy fog of unbelief that my life had just taken such a sudden and drastic turn that would at the very least rob me of my early adulthood. I'll be 48 when I get out unless I can get paroled early and possibly get some time off for good behavior. Regardless, what the fuck can I expect my life to be like at that point. No relative work experience and a Felony of this nature will be enough to ruin the rest of my life. To say I was suicidal when all of these facts sank in would be a vast understatement. I was under suicide watch and had countless sessions with a therapist who tried convincing me that it wasn't the end of the world.
Shortly after the sentencing hearing, I was transfered to a Maximum Security prison in Colorado. I was totally and utterly distraught.
After being processed into the facility, a guard was escorting me to my new cell. Apparently, my reputation preceded me as evidenced by the comments made by other prisoners on the way. "Damn, you're the fuck who been out rapin' children in the world... youse gonna be gettin fucked big time up in dis mo'fucka," one inmate said as we passed by a group playing cards in the common area. One of the biggest blackest men I've ever seen sitting next to that prisoner says, "Damn you a fine piece of ass... I can't wait till shower time. I 'aint gotten off ever since I found out about yo' stupid rapin' ass was comin'. You gonna get all this seed I been savin', you herd?"
"This be yo' new home you mo'fucka," the guard says in a suspiciously thuggish dialect. Voices are still outside the cell saying crazy things, and I'm on the verge of absolutely losing it. I am hit with another wave of pure and sober reality of where I'm at and that my life will never be the same.
I set my things down and start making the top bunk up. I finish that then find a seat in the chair next the bunk bead. I'm alone in the cell and I start looking around at the evidence of what my cell mate is going to be like. The first thing I notice is the shaving kit at the sink and how there are black curly hairs where he must have shaved several days of growth. The voices from the common area die down for a little while, and exhausted from the stressful day, I crawl up to the top bunk and try to sleep. My body will have none of it. I stare at the cracking paint on the ceiling dreading the inevitable meeting with my cellie. Is he going to be friendly or is he going to be some tatted out thug... no way of knowing what I am about to find out anyway.
After some amount of time that felt like a year but only amounted to a few hours, I hear a lot of footsteps headed towards their cells for what I later come to know as the 'count' where all prisoners are accounted for by staff before it's time for chow. Not long after that, I hear a pair of feet making their way into the cell. They stop abruptly.
"Fuckin she-it," says a deep aggravated voice. "I dun knowed dis single-cell shit'd be too good to last."
Out of pure instinct, I start apologizing explaining that I had no choice and didn't mean to invade his space.
"Well, look her mo' fucka. 'Aint yo fault lil'dude. What they be callin' you?"
We do the meet'n greet and I am relieved to find that "D," as he is known, is a very reasonable and friendly 6'3" black guy weighing in around 250-275lbs (all muscle). He tells me that since we're going to be staying in close quarters for a little while, he might as well look after me a bit and show me the ropes before the "perv mo'fuckas" start "layin' down day press game." He takes me to chow and lets me sit with his gang of thugs. They walk with me and make sure that nobody gets the bright idea to have their ways with my "bleached ass' booty." Nobody made any mention of why I was in there, and scared of the consequences of them finding out if they didn't already know, I dare not mention it. When D's friend Faze asks me, all I said was the truth -- I got set up for some shit I had no real part of. I did notice that after I answered, they all stopped eating and looked at one another. A couple in the bunch were definitely holding back a snicker.
The next couple of weeks put my mind at ease about having to adjust to life in prison. D's friend Dizzy set me up with a job cleaning the common areas and everyone pretty much looked after me. I didn't even hear but a handful of sexual threats and those were all murmurs to the effect of "You gonna get yoes fa'real." I paid it no mind and tried to stay positive.
After about a month and feeling pretty well adjusted to prison life, I started cutting up with my new friends more and more. Eventually, D let me in on a little secret that one of his buds has some pruno to share with us one night (pruno is a crude wine made of yeast, sugar, and fruit juice set to ferment).
His friend enters the cell after the count where we have two hour befor lights out to get our drink on. What was to happen next would change my life forever.
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