My liberal leanings had brought me to this place: one of the worst run prisons in my state. It was a minimum security prison. The smallest of the half- dozen state prisons, it was in a remote corner of the state. It seemed to have been forgotten by the state legislators and ignored by the general population. The warden wasn’t especially corrupt, but just didn’t give a fuck. As long as he got his salary he didn’t give a shit what happened, so the prison was run by the guards.

None of them seemed brutally masochistic, but they were tough enough to keep the prisoners from running riot and taking over, plus they could all be bribed, so that drugs were smuggled in and many of the prisoners were high, contented and subdued.

I was a high-school teacher certified to teach math and English, with a wide range of interest in other subjects, such as history, government and the sciences. I had read an article in the local newspaper stating that the vast majority of the prisoners had never finished high school. I got the idea that if I could get the youngest and less hardened ones to complete their education they would have a better chance of not being re-incarcerated upon their release.

As I said, the warden didn’t care one way or the other what went on, as long as it didn’t affect him negatively, so I was able to convince him to give it a try. It was all voluntary, and wasn’t anything out of his pocket. Since this wasn’t State approved, I had to keep it under the radar. My plan was to convince the inmates to get a GED, and I would help them in any way I could. Since most of them were bored shitless it was at least something to do, and got them out of their cells.

I had been at it for about six months, and had some success – enough to make me determined to keep on going, and more of the guys had joined in. I had also become known to the guards and they didn’t get in my way. In fact I had free access to just about all areas.

After four or five months I became aware of a prisoner who was housed alone and never left his cell. With inquiry I found out his name was Walker, and he was considered violent.

Almost all prisoners plus guards were called by their last names. If someone came in who had the same last name as another inmate he then was called by both names, or by a nickname if he had one, or subsequently earned one. I later found out Walker’s first name was Walter. Walter Walker! The name Walter didn’t fit him at all, so calling him Walker was perfect.

What got me so interested in him was that every day he was sitting on the bottom bunk of his bed, with his right hand shackled to the railing of the top bunk. It was obviously cruel torture. He was only unshackled when he had to use the toilet, or when he was allowed to bathe, and then he was accompanied by two guards. I convinced a guard to give me access to Walker. I was allowed to go in his cell unaccompanied. He was grateful to have someone to talk to, but I quickly found out he couldn’t use the help I was giving the other guys.

He had graduated from high school and completed two years of college. When he was twenty-one he had fallen in with some gang-type thugs, and had tried to rob a bar. He had noticed a diamond engagement ring on a customer, and had attempted to take it. She had resisted, attacking him with her fingernails, and he had bashed her in the head with his gun. The bartender had pushed a hidden button that notified the police, and they were captured. Since he had no priors he had gotten ten years without parole, and had served eight.

Although there was no reason for me to interact with him, I couldn’t get Walker out of my mind. I was two years older than he was and kept thinking how it would have been if the past eight years of my life had been spent in the God-forsaken Hell-hole. Part of my continued interest was in his horrible situation, and a part of it was his looks.

Yeah, I readily admit it. He was good-looking, but also interesting-looking. His nose wasn’t large, but was slightly crooked, which kept him from being classically handsome. His hair was thin and straight, like straw. His face hardly ever showed any expression. It was all in his eyes. I continued to visit him, getting to know him better, gaining his trust, and getting him to accept me – as a friend.

Although he was reserved and never opened up, over many conversations and repeated digging I found out the reason for his sadistic punishment was because he had rebuffed the sexual advances of a guard. Rebuffed probably isn’t the correct word, as he had violently rejected him. The guard had retaliated by cuffing him to the top bunk so every minute of his day was uncomfortable. Walker had retaliated by stoically enduring the punishment without complaining.

That guard was no longer around, although I never knew what had happened to him, but in the regular insanity of this place, Walker’s punishment hadn’t been ended. He had been going through this daily torture for several months.

Every day after my regular job at the high school I would spend four to five hours at the prison, teaching, helping students with problems and guiding them through paper work on their GED's. But I always found time to visit with Walker before I left. I could tell that he had slowly come to anticipate my time with him, which gave me a large amount of secret pleasure.

At one point I asked him how he kept fit. It was obvious even through the orange jumpsuit that he had a great body. He explained he was uncuffed at night and in the middle of the night he’d do push-ups and pull-ups using the bunk above. He’d run in place for half an hour. He’d pull the mattress off the cot and hold it doubled up on his shoulders and do squats.

One day at the end of my visit I stood up and looked down at Walker. “You look especially tense today.”

“For some reason my shoulder is killing me.”

I didn’t know if this was a stab at mordant humor and I should laugh or not. He’d never said anything remotely humorous before. I let a smile flit across my lips.

“Would you like a massage?”

He let out a breath that might have been a laugh. “Sure.”

He turned as well as he could and I got sort of behind him with one knee on the mattress. He was dressed in regulation prisoner garb of the orange jumpsuit, which was made of a course material. It wasn’t the ideal fabric or position for an effective massage, but I did the best I could, and he seemed to enjoy it.

After about ten minutes I decided it was time for me to get out of there. I stood back up. He looked up at me and thanked me. They weren’t only words of appreciation, but the first words of any warmth I had heard him say. I didn’t respond. I just stood looking down at his upturned face, and then, inexplicably, I leaned down and kissed him on the lips.

It was only a brief kiss, and he didn’t kiss me back. When I straightened back up he was still looking at me with the same expressionless face. I couldn’t tell what thoughts were in his eyes. I felt I was probably lucky he was handcuffed to the bed.

I quickly said, “Good-bye,” and turned and called for the guard to unlock the cell door.

I decided I’d better lay low, and skipped the next day, but that was agony. The day after that I figured I could take my chances, if I didn’t get within striking distance. When I stood outside the cell door waiting for the guard to open it Walker didn’t say anything. He sat motionless, expressionless as usual.

The moment the cell door clanged shut behind me he said, “Where the fuck were you yesterday?”

“I was giving exams to some of the guys,” I lied. “It took longer than I expected and I ran out of time. Sorry”

We settled into our usual talk, with me asking him about his previous life. He seemed to like reliving his younger years of freedom. He often talked about the girlfriend he had loved and lost. I answered his questions about events beyond those walls. I noticed the top three buttons of his jumpsuit were unbuttoned and I could see he had a hairy chest.

When my time was up he asked, “Could you massage my shoulders again?”

I wondered what more was expected of me. Did he really want another kiss, or just a massage? Could he have remotely liked my kissing him? I wouldn’t let myself even go there.

As I was massaging his shoulders and the back of his neck he leaned back into me. I was crazily emboldened and gave in to dangerous urges. I slipped my hands around and into the front opening of the jumpsuit, running them over his chest, feeling the soft hair, finding his nipples. He put his head back against my chest. I had lost all reason.

I moved my hands further down. There was no reaction. I continued down until I reached my intended destination, wrapping my fingers around his thick soft cock. He sighed.

For some reason that sigh shook me out of my fantasy. I let go of his cock, pulled my hands up and out and returned to massaging his shoulders.

I only did that for a couple of minutes then said, “I should go. It’s getting late.”

Again we were in the same position as two days before: him looking up at me, me standing looking down into to his inscrutable eyes. Then I saw a corner of his mouth move up in a small hint of a smile. I bent forward again hesitantly and paused inches from his lips. He didn’t move. I kissed his mouth, this time holding the kiss a few seconds longer. But again there was no response. I broke off the kiss, but didn’t straighten up immediately. Our faces were too close for our eyes to focus, but he didn’t move.

I stood and said, “Till tomorrow then?”

He said, “Till tomorrow.”

The next day when I walked in it was as if nothing had happened – as if nothing was different. Everything proceeded as usual. When it was time for me to leave I stood and he looked up at me.

With the same blank expression he said, “Massage time?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I guess, if you want.”

With his free left hand he began struggling to unbutton the front of the jumpsuit. I took over and undid the top three buttons.

“More,” he said.

I did two more so he was open to his waist.

I didn’t spend too much time on his shoulders. I worked his chest and gently pinched his nipples. I felt the ripples of his stomach muscles. I played with his pubic hair. When I grasped his cock it was hard and hot. It was almost as if I could feel the blood pulsing in it.

He turned his head so his mouth was against my ear and hoarsely whispered, “Jack it. Jack me off.”

It was a rather awkward position, but I did my damn best to do a good job. I was elated. My mind was swimming. Only my closeness to him allowed me to hear a soft moan come from deep inside. His breathing grew quick and ragged. He threw his head back, hitting me in the chin, and his cock erupted sending warm cum shooting against the course fabric and splattering back onto my fist and his cock. They were both a gooey mess by the time he had emptied his balls. In the back of my mind I wondered how long it had been since the last time he had cum. But he must have beat off with his free hand, or under the cover of darkness, I thought.

I continued to jack his slime covered cock until it lost its hardness. I didn’t want to let it go even then. I did let go of it, and as I was withdrawing my hand he turned his head in my direction again. I turned to meet his gaze. Again our faces were inches apart. I closed those few inches and our lips met. This time I parted my lips and moved my tongue softly over his lips. I felt his lips open slightly and his tongue filling the opening.

When I moved around in front of him he looked at me, smiled for the first time and said, “I guess now you’re my bitch.”

I was shocked. I stood stunned for a minute. Then I slowly shook my head and said, “No, I’m no bitch. I’m a man.”

I washed my hand in the small stainless steel sink. I had intended – had wanted – to lick his cum off, but his comment had knocked that desire sideways. I called the guard.

As I walked out he called out, “Till tomorrow then.”

I later wondered how he explained his sticky situation to the guards. The rest of that day, that night and the next morning my mind was in turmoil. Should I skip my visit or act as if nothing had happened? Could I skip my visit? I wanted to put my arms around him again. I desired to feel his chest and stomach under my fingers. I lusted for his cock. I craved to know the taste of his cum. I imagined him fucking me in my ass.

The next day when I went to his cell he wasn’t there. Panic clutched my chest. I found the guard and he told me Walker was in the shower room. I returned to the area I used for my “classroom” and paced nervously for what seemed eons. I almost gave in and left, but found the nerve and returned to his cell block.

When I got there he was sitting shackled in the usual place. He was bare from the waist up, the top part of his jumpsuit gathered around his hips.

“The stupid asshole forgot to bring a clean suit to the shower room. I’m waiting.”

I took my place at the end of the cot. There was an awkward silence. For the first time neither of us seemed able to find the words to start the conversation. We both made a couple of lame attempts, but the guard mercifully arrived with the change of uniform.

“Just leave the goddamned thing. I’ll get into it later without your fucking help,” he snarled at the guard.

The guard threw it at him, hitting him in the face. I laughed to break the tension. We began talking, but after only a few minutes he stopped and looked at me. I was afraid of what might come next, but he surprised me.

“Would you mind getting me out of this stinking suit and into the clean one?”

I stood, but then wasn’t sure what to do. He lifted his feet and I grabbed the cuffs and pulled. By rolling from side to side we managed to get it from under his hips and ass and I pulled hard and it came off. Suddenly he was there naked before me. I was rendered immobile. I’d never seen anything more erotically beautiful. He sat still, looking at me looking at him. He wasn’t showing off, but he wasn’t shy. I guess being in prison can destroy any qualms or inhibitions you may have.

“Well?”

He brought me back to earth. I picked up the clean jumpsuit and knelt to hold the legs open so he could insert his feet. But that didn’t happen. I glanced up at his face and then bent forward and buried my face in his crotch, feeling his pubic hairs on my forehead, pressing my nose against his wonderful soft cock. I kissed it, repeatedly. I opened my mouth and sucked it in. Even though it filled my mouth I was able to move my tongue all over it, feeling it grow, stuffing my mouth to beyond capacity.

I let it slip out, but kept the head trapped in my mouth. I sucked on it and then ran my tongue all around and over it. I moved down, opening my throat so I could take as much of his long cock as I could. It was too long to take all of it, but it was so good I didn’t need all of it. Besides, I could lick it from tip to base, and on down to his large firm nuts. I licked his soft floppy nut sack and then sucked one nut and then the other. I licked back up his cock, letting it rub my spit over my face.

When I got back to the tip I engulfed the top half and began going up and down in earnest, sucking going up and letting my tongue do the work going down. Walker put his free hand on the back of my head and grabbed a fistful of my hair, joining in the process. He bucked his hips as best he could and gasped as the cum shot out of his cock, coating my tongue and the back of my throat with his salty sweet juice. I held my head still as rope after rope filled my mouth as I swallowed, savoring every drop.

I stayed there until there was no chance of more. I slowly came up the length of his cock, sucking, cleaning off all traces. When it came out of my mouth I kissed in lovingly several times as I felt it begin to go soft. I looked up and saw Walker’s eyes were closed. He opened them and I met his gaze. I put my hand on the back of his neck and pulled his head down. I pressed my opened cum-flavored mouth against his and pushed my tongue between his lips. He opened them and my tongue slipped in. He accepted it and pushed back, our tongues entwining.

When I released the kiss and stood up I saw a tear had escaped his eye and was creeping down his cheek. I looked at the anguished expression that contorted his beautiful face.

He looked at me and in a tightly choked voice said, “What have you done to me?”

“I’ve made you my bitch,” I said.

He looked at me, stunned and lost.

I slowly shook my head. “No,” I said, “that’s not true. You’re nobody’s bitch. You’re a real, true man, but now you’re MY man.”

He weakly smiled, with both his lips and eyes.

~

I was able to talk to the warden and through pleas, logic and coercion got Walker freed from the shackle. Walker finished out his sentence and with time found a job as an automobile mechanic. He turned out to be a really good mechanic. We’ve been together almost two years now, and I’ve never found him to be the least bit violent. Our daily life is pretty ordinary and humdrum, but the nights are anything but. Walker is the gentlest, but at the same time the most passionate lover I’ve ever had.
This story requires acceptance of inaccuracies in how our prison system works.