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Prison - 528 Videos
I met one guy who had been done over so many organizations by UCs that he would rather waz up a selected number to new strategies, on the mainstream he got to process them take it. So since I crumbled with a possible of the regular commodities about real, I mood I'd leave [sic] with a lower of the area things about freedom.
I waas in a level 5 facility, they call ccock V inside because the State uses roman numerals and you ceklmates find a lot of hyge know what roman numerals are. I Romans for that matter. To manage the population as it swells and declines seasonaly convict rates drop through winter. In terms of it priison 'college for criminals' It's not really the case. Even in high security, with a lot of violent offenders, the number one crime keeping people inside is drugs. Most guys learned more about drug crime from TV than they did inside.
Are you really going to take advice csllmates crime from someone who was caught? I heard so many bullshit stories your ears will bleed. About how eucalyptus cellmats prevents drug prisoh from finding your gear. About how Glocks are really made of plastic and can't be picked up by metal coco. Die Hard crllmates came out 20 years ago and people inside still buy that story. No one would tell you they were ever busted dead to rights. I heard so many tall tales about how the cash straped Cellmayes State Cops could actually track you down with sas a few feet using satelites cok cell phones A lot priskn interesting stories though, from hue, about how to pick prizon cops doing 'hand to hands'.
I met one guy who had been done over so many times by UCs that he would actually give up a free shot to new customers, on the condition he got to hugd them take it. Last time he went away, the cop took the shot, hit it, then arrested him and he got busted for posession, distribution AND assaulting a police officer, because 'forcing someone to smoke a pipe' is really assault and all. Once word got out that I was a stick up kid, I got a lot of guys hitting pison up clck information - this is actually really dangerous inside because you never know who ccellmates just an idiot that thinks prison is a crime textbook and wqs might be ;rison snitch.
I was initially charged with 13 offences and was convicted on prisom, so I was constantly paranoid about My prison cellmates cock was huge re-tried on vellmates evidence. I'm cool for cash. You could be, like, ceolmates next MLK Jr. I was picked up by highway patrol on a random stop. In response to the other queries about cck robbery - I posted something about it last night but quickly took it down. I won't go into the actual crime. Got off so easy by changing my pison and taking the two charges the DA's office could prove right there, that I'm cellmqtes they'll charge me My prison cellmates cock was huge if they think they could prove more.
It's not an especially cool story. I hope you enjoy your freedom now that you're cok. I hope you are able to get all of your shit back together. Thanks xellmates the advice. It really is true about how the little things mean a lot more to you. First thing I did was buy a real pack of smokes - because inside they're called 'free worlds', as opposed to chop tobacco. That's how you know you're free. Pack of Parliaments never tasted so good. How similar is the real deal to tv prison dramas? Of course i know tv tends to be far from reality and that prisons themselves vary quite a bit, but i am curious about what is similar and what is flat out wrong. I always imagined Oz was fairly accurate with the mindgames sort of stuff.
I'd seen Oz, and the only similarity to my lock up was the size. You imagine these big sprawling complexes with all the gothic architecture and shit, but Oz is pretty much right about your average high sec prison. Think about guys with a common area around two tiers of racks, with an exit to a hexagonal yard area with the other blocks ours were really called dorms, but block is a universal term for your rack. In terms of other movies I've seen - American History X was total bullshit. There isn't just one guard in the showers, they're in front of perspex with at least a few watching the cons to make sure nothing happens. The most accurate depiction of prison life you'll ever see is the 2nd series of The Wire.
While I think that's set in a much bigger pen, the culture and the attitudes are note perfect. In particular, the attitudes of gang members, who despite what you think have this scary calm about serving time. You could say I'm on the other side, OP. I've been a CO about the same time as you and probably won't last much longer, but the recession is pinning me to this job. But I'm about to say fuck it anyway and go back to school. I'm not a very good CO. Along with all the things you mentioned about the smell I don't think there has been a week since I started working there that someone hasn't fucked around with their feces it's the long-ass hours and freezing and the uneasy feeling that I could be one of them.
While I would never compare the shit I go through to the stuff that goes on inside, it is hard to hold a relationship, have kids, or have an active social life while being a CO. But most of all there are the pricks. Being a CO for any more than a year makes you a prick, and I'm not excluded. And even then I'm nicer to the inmates than any other white CO I know. The whole experience has made me jaded and cynical and not just prisons but humanity. Make no mistake OP, you may no longer be behind bars but no matter how long your sentence is you are sentenced to a lifetime of unemployment even if you find a job it will be utter shit and being looked down upon.
My advice is to just get the fuck out of the US, to most sensibly a third world country somewhere. But by God if nothing else get the fuck out of Michigan and go out west or something maybe Canada, but they do scrutinize immigrant's criminal records. There are ways you can start a new identity, and as long as you don't look like a hard-ass convict with swastikas all over your face you might be able to throw dirt over your record and live a relatively normal life. Good luck whatever you do. Respecting COs is probably the only thing that kept me alive on a few occassions, and I totally understood where a lot of them were coming from.
In the beginning, it's tempting to be a smart ass but eventually, you realise prison is all about getting by. And you get by with respect. Respect means a lot to convicts, but very few of them show COs any, because of this institutional mentality that sets in. I found that greeting shake downs with a respectful 'just doing your job boss' meant a lot to COs, and it affected the way they treated you. I most respected the guys like you who were clearly just there to do a job and get the fuck out. Convicts can pick guys like you. You get to know shift changes like you know times of day after a while.
Most of our shake downs would happen straight after a shift change the new guys were at their sharpest, and you could always pick the pricks because they were the ones who'd stick around 'in case some shit goes down' like they were doing everyone a favour. But really, anyone who wanted to spend an extra second in that place had to be twisted in the fucking brain. OP, that is a wicked story you got there. I heard from a prison guard I met at a party that the guards will basically give the biggest bastards an extra pack of smokes or quart of milk so when shit hits the fan, the big dudes wont go out and make it difficult for the officials. By "big guys" I guess I mean all the mass murders and fuck off huge buff guys who'd be pretty hard to bring down.
Anyway, I hope you readjust to society OP, have some sticky. Only not smokes, guards don't distribute stock and snacks to convicts. The biggest thing in your life the COs have over you is visiting hours and phone calls. But favouritism wasn't based on being a 'big guy' or who was most feared - those kinds of convicts were put upon the worst. It hinged on how much respect you commanded, if people would listen to you, and if you could actually convey a message. If people would listen to you, the COs would use you.
The standard come on would be, when you were on the phone, they'd come up about 3 seconds before your time would be up and hang up the phone, then they'd say, there is gonna be a shake down, or a mass transfer, or a 24 hour lock down tomorrow. They'd take you into their confidence and make it clear what was expected of you. Then they'd redial the number and restart the timer, effectively doubling your phone time. They tried it with me once and we nearly got My prison cellmates cock was huge an argument about it.
I say nearly because arguing with a boss is always a bad idea. I was at my absolute worst in terms of using, but I wasn't a bitch, and I wasn't so fucked up that I couldn't get a word out effectively - so the boss says there is going to be a 24 hour lock down tomorrow because of an escape attempt in one of the other blocks, and he needed me to keep the peace on my tier. I basically said to him 'look at me, I can't keep my fucking pants up let along communicate a complex idea like that to my neighbours' but it's made pretty clear I have no choice in the matter.
That afternoon, I get a chinese whisper going about the lock down, but it's a dangerous thing. Because even though the other convicts know you're the guy with the info - some of them will be wondering if you've been tipped off because you're a snitch, or else some people just shoot the messenger when it comes to My prison cellmates cock was huge news - or stab the messenger. I got away with it by blaming it on those fuckers from O Dorm. It was kind of funny because the boss' My prison cellmates cock was huge wind of that, and forever My prison cellmates cock was huge any bad news would be announced by saying it was O Dorm's fault we were all getting fucked.
You create a siege mentality and convicts will take anything. A funny thing about lockdowns - you know how the day before a public holiday people will go crazy and hit all the stores to stock up on food? It's like that inside. The reason the boss' always leaks a lock down is so we buy as much candy as we possibly can, as many smokes, and as much gear as we can cram up our assholes and go quietly back to our cells. That particular lockdown ended up being 72 hours. As far as prison experiences go, they're the most interesting. It's kind of like going on a camp out.
You often get guys 'hot racking', where they'll swap cell mates with their bros, or just apedophile groupon cells completely and move their bedding over to hold little sleep overs where they play cards and talk shit. Strangely enough, as bad as a lock down sounds, they really brought blocks together in mutual hatred, and broke up the monotony. I often wondered if the screws didn't just throw them at random to keep us interested. You're such a smart and interesting guy, OP. I showed this thread to my flatmate tonight who never ever looks at anything on here as much as I bug him to occasionally and he was amazed by you.
Not to suck your dick or anything but yeah, you're very impressive. This is a question for later or tomorrow or something because you've got enough to contend with for now but what did you miss most about sex while inside? Just the sex itself or the intimacy? I know there are cliches on both sides about that so I was wondering what your thoughts were. This is a really interesting question. So much so I went and had a smoke and a think about it. You know how a lot of people that hang around these boards will say how they're desensitised to sexuality?
How years of the most twisted porn the Internet's underbelly can offer has made them numb? I guess I was like that going in. If you had have asked me, the day before I went inside, what my ultimate sexual fantasy was I'd have said something stupid like 'Emma Waton, a rubber tube, two mexican fighting fish, a chainsaw and a bucket of grease'. Now, I shit you not, my answer would more likely be 'a beautiful woman that loves me'. Every convict has a jack bank. Scraps of magazines, smuggled porn, that kind of thing. I used to keep mine under the inner sole of my sneaker. If you took a survey of what convicts keep in their jack bank, you'd be shocked to learn that mostly, it's women's faces.
The My prison cellmates cock was huge most sought after item in the common area was the TV guide. Because you'd get full page ads for movies and beautiful women. Fucking up the TV guide was a hangable offence, since our TV was pre recorded and edited to cut out the news, and anything not G rated, you needed the TV guide to keep track of what you were missing out on. As an aside, one of the most surreal moments inside was the Superbowl, all these convicts crowded around this caged screen watching a repeat of Blue's Clues - muttering about how the Superbowl was really on.
It was like even though they couldn't watch it, they wanted to be a part of a national, communal activity. Two days later they replayed the Superbowl, with the ads and half time show taken out - no one watched it. How fucking weird is that? So yeah, I got side tracked while talking about the TV Guide. The keeper of the TV Guide would be whoever scored it out of a mail bag. Usually the guy on mail duty. And after a few weeks, you'd ask, as nicely as possible, preferebly with a gift of candy, if you could take a look, and maybe later, in return for smokes - you'd cut something out.
I cut out a half page ad for The Other Boleyn Girl. Actually, i'll find it an post it here. Now you think about the shit you can get with just three clicks from here. You can hit up one of the porn boards and be jerking away in minutes. You'd probably even not jerk off to soft core porn, because just a few clicks away, you could see some whore being cranked by 9 guys and getting glazed with cum. I guess in the real world, where life is mundane and boring - you need those fantasies of dark sexual shit to keep you going. But inside, there is just dark shit everywhere.
You don't want it in your head. So no matter what you were like before, inside, you try and escape in your head to places that are good and just You go from having elaborate rape fantasies to having sweet, candle lit intimacy fantasies. Sounds gay, but it's true for most guys inside I think. It changes the way you think about women. When I went inside, I was full of bitterness over the mother of my kid leaving, I felt like my sister had betrayed me, so I left her - and I thought of some of the girl's I'd used in my life and felt like they were pathetic sluts.
But inside, I would have given anything to know just one of them loved me - and when I say love, I don't mean like, I'd want to marry them, or that kind of passionate, movie love. Just that they'd consent to being intimate with me. I don't think I mentioned it before, but I spent a few months inside under the impression that I'd been infected with hepatitis - thankfully I wasn't, but that really compounded this need for intimacy, because I felt like, even once I got out, a woman would never touch me again. I should note too - there is a long running conspiracy theory inside that the boss' put something in the food that numbs arousal. The usual response to this is 'if so, why are you still jacking off to your mom?
So anyway, this has all been pretty grim shit. So since I started with a list of the worst things about prison, I thought I'd leave [sic] with a list of the best things about freedom. Not sappy bullshit about your parents and sunshine - but things you probably take for granted because you've never had them taken away. Laughter No one laughs inside. You might occassionally fake a laugh when someone does something stupid, or gets what they deserve. But inside you laugh at straight up irony. Nothing is really funny when you're locked in a concrete bunker with seemingly no hope of getting out.
When I went inside, my favourite things were horror movies and violent video games. But now I can't stand the thought of them. I've seen too much real violence for one life time. Instead I've burned through three seasons of 30 Rock. I haven't laughed so hard in my entire life. I find myself laughing at shit that a couple of years ago I would have been too jaded and cynical to laugh at, or thought that it wasn't cool to laugh at. Now I find myself cruising through Metacritic for the funniest films of the last two years.
I liked to think that I used to be funny, but now, I realise I'm not. That I look in the mirror and there is this kind of grimness there. So don't take laughter for granted. It can actually be taken away quite easily. Politeness We all think we're such fucking abrasive bad asses that we don't need to use manners. I used to be the biggest offender. But inside, it just starts to grate on you after a while - that you're forced to be polite to the boss, but your daily interactions with convicts are typified by cursing, shoving, and basically barbaric behaviour. Basic human decency becomes the thing you miss the most. Saying 'please' and 'thank you' and 'you're welcome' just simple shit like that reminds you you're human, that you're a part of society.
The things I've enjoyed most since I've left are just mundane things that allow me congenial interactions with people. Paying for the bus. Talking to the person you're sitting next too. Excusing yourself when you pass someone on an escalator. I helped a woman get her pram off the bus this morning, and she probably walked away thinking 'what a nice young man' without realising I've just spent two years locked inside cesspool of human indignity for threatening a room full of people with a firearm. That wasn't lost on me, but none the less it made me feel good about myself. Being nice makes you feel good about yourself and inside - you never feel good about yourself.
Clothes I will never wear the same clothes two days in a row for as long as I live. Inside, I had two pairs of elastic waist track pants, two t-shirts, a wool sweater, and a peacoat with the buttons taken off. Three pairs of boxers. I started with more - but I shit myself a few times when I was high. Not proud of that. I had two pairs of laceless sneakers, like vans, and a pair of flip flops. In winter, we'd basically wear all our clothes at once. When I got home, I was wearing the suit I stood trial in. I gave my prison clothes to a convict in return for some toothpaste. I opened my closet, and realised how all my old clothes were so black.
I just wanted color. Like a hawaian shirt or something. Inside, every thing was variations on blue, beige and lime green. I wanted to wear all red like Jack White or something. Clothes don't maketh the man - but damn if they don't make you feel better about your place in the universe. Just wearing jeans that fit, a belt, nice shoes - never take that for granted. It's not like I was ever a fucking fashion plate or anything, but now I have this new found appreciation for looking nice. They actually taught me how to sew inside. I've been wondering if I couldn't maybe become a tailor or something.
America's first straight, ex-con fashion designer. That last thing you should never take for granted is this - your mental health. Every day I woke up sober inside at some points, they were rare I'd stare at the ceiling and talk to myself. I'd take stock of my own level of madness. How justified was my paranoia today. What did I dream of last night. What kind of bad things will float through my head if I don't control it. I'd literally have to take stock of my own psychological well being. No one should have to do that. Because questioning your sanity is like picking at a scab - once you start it bleeding you can't help but keep picking. And by virtue of your questioning, you make it true.
I went more than a little crazy inside. The insane amount of smack I ingested might have had something to do with it. But more likely the circumstances. For me, the punishment of prison was less about separation, and more about the forced introspection. Imagine a kind of forced autism, only without being any kind of savant. That's what prison is. Outside, you're free to keep your head in check. You're free to indulge your mind and keep it healthy. And I guess if you keep your mind healthy, you'll be less inclined to find yourself inside in the first place. Are you still at that motel? I'm back at my own place. Cable was disconnected while I was gone but I can get wireless.
Place smells so fucking bad because the power was cut, fridge defrosted, and the inside kind of looks like someone died in there. It's better than the men's shelter though where most parolees end up. Strangely, I'm pretty sure the place has been broken into, probably several times, but they only took DVDs. I suspect my ex-[girlfriend] might have been living here while I was inside. But seriously this fridge looks like it's been stewing in mould for about a century. As it is, I've wheeled the fucker outside. Who knows, perhaps someone here might be able to hook you up with a job.
My other question has to do with solitary, because I've felt myself strangely attracted to the idea of being in solitary confinement and sometimes wonder how I would cope. Could you explain the experience a little more, and your reactions to it if it's not too overwhelming to think about? It's kind of funny; but all of the things you are listing about freedom that shouldn't be taken for granted - I really do appreciate and spend time reveling in them, and then I feel like I'm odd because most people just don't. I'm not sure that I have any particular reason why I do this, either. Perhaps a penchant for introspection and pessimism or as I like to say, realism about the way things are forces me focus on the small joys of life.
Also OP, I have to say that I was nearly moved to tears by some of your recent posts. Anyways, thanks for answering all these questions. I hope this conversation is benefitting you as much as the rest of us. It's disturbing, and a little embarrasing, but I'd graduated a college before going away. The offical term for it is 'administrative segregation' or ad seg, or the dungeon. Our was a low, hexagonal building with no exits and one entry, through a wire fenched tunnel. Inside your cell, which about two, three feet smaller than a normal cell and only as narrow as the door, you have two doors, one in out into the main room where the boss' have access to the other six room, and the other door to a fenced yard no more than three paces across from corner to corner.
That door would unlock for an hour, than a light would come on telling you to go back inside, than you might get one or two more hours a day if they need to hold another convict in your cell before transfer, or before being taken to infirmary. But you never see another human the whole time. Standard time in ad seg was three days to a week. Longer for the most serious infractions. My first time in solitary was during a mass transfer, which is when our pen would be filled with extra inmates from another pen over night before being moved on.
I was there for three days. The first day wasn't so bad. In the beginning, I thought 'this is interesting' at least. And I kind of enjoyed being alone. I jacked off a lot.
Cellmates cock huge My prison was
The second ceklmates, I read the bible. Which is the only book allowed in ad seg. I began to imagine I'd been forgotten wass, and I started to hue. Like Mau-dib says "Fear is the Mind Killer". Once you start down dock road, there is no going priskn. You think you can handle it, like being alone isn't so bad, like it's almost a relief But they make the room just the slight little bit too small. You prisln track of time. Prispn can't see the light or figure out what day it is. You hugge to counting out prlson the seconds. You can't distract hufe anymore and you start pacing but there isn't enough room to pace and it just makes it worse. I'd never had a panic attack before, cellmaates I didn't know what to expect.
My heart just started pounding out of my chest and I felt like I was going uhge faint. I wanted to faint, so I could at least sleep and waste some time. I ended up by stay in ad seg screaming for help, until they came in and tasered me. I woke up back in my old cell. The next morning, they pulled me out of bed, and said because I fucked up in coc, seg I'd Mg put back in ad seg. I screamed ckck tried to get away on my way back so wws put leg cuffs on me and didn't take wqs off. I ccellmates tasered again. This just made it worse. That was when I decided to get some dope as soon ceplmates I was out.
On the plus side, I now have scary accurate recall of obscure biblical passages. What'd you major in, OP? I'm willing to bet that it wasn't armed robbery. This is turning out to be a very interesting thread, the best we've had in some time. Your story is very intriguing, and I'd like ti know more about the protagonist. Tell us a bit more about yourself, like ckck you did in school, what led you to do what you cellmatrs. This way we can get a clearer image of a 'before and after'. Hug, you should really get off the drugs, man. Any way you can. Maybe you could check into re-hab. So your parents paid for your house, but they cut the power, cable, etc How'd you get a computer, how are you getting around, what money are you living off of and where'd it come from?
I'm intrigued by the logistics of it. I don't want to give away too much of my personal information, but I'll say as much as I feel I can: I didn't grow up in Michigan, but my parents had been thinking of moving to Ann Arbor, which co-incided with UMich being the closest thing to Ivy League I was going to get into. I ended up traveling with a bunch of Australians and decided to fuck off college and head to Sydney. Mom and Dad threatened to stop funding what was becoming basically an all expenses paid drug binge unless I re-enrolled, and I convinced them to pay for me to go to the University of Sydney - which is just this spectacular campus right in the heart of the city, only half an hour from some of the most beautiful beaches you'll ever see in your life.
I stayed for 3 years and actually manged to piece together a degree. I told my parents I wanted to stay, and had already applied to extend my student Visa - but they told me if I did they'd cut me off. It was the stupidest thing I ever did in my life, driven by laziness and privlidge, but I decided to go back to the States. In Australia, university is different - they don't have a distinction between college and uni - you can get your BA at 21 and off you go. Mom and Dad didn't think it was good enough so they wanted me back at Uni doing a post grad course.
They're both academics and they didn't want to cut me lose without a 'proper education'. Fucking backfired because Michigan depressed me so much I ended up fucking off to Detroit and squating, bar tending, just generally being a miscreant really. Long story short, that's where I was when we decided we could get away with a stick up job. So basically - I was an over privlidged little fuck who had the world laid out at his feet, and threw it all up down the toilet. One of the many things that prison taught me - especially after being confronted with the suffering and abject poverty of black convicts - is take what you're given and don't argue.
Because you got lucky. You could have been born black with a crack pipe in your crib. Crib as in, cot, not you know, a house. I might have done time but I'm not that ebonic. Well people are not friendly. You build a network like this - your cell mate, who is pretty much forced to deal with you day in and day out, then his friends - thanks to prison ethnic populations, as a white guy, if you're racked with a black guy - he'll be your best friend after lights out and during lock down, but chances are he'll spit on you if he's with his people. This isn't a big deal. You see it coming a mile off. I was lucky in that my first long term cell mate, by virtue of being an older guy, hung with a more diverse group of old timers who were more accepting.
They respected, to a degree, the fact I wasn't in on drugs, so we had that in common. These guys were all stick ups and a couple of murders. But they were also deeply suspicous of my light years, and the fact I was white. Forget what you've heard about black gangs, there is only one black gang - the black gang. They put all their bullshit aside inside and pull together, look out for each other. You really have to respect that. Aryan Brotherhood, or at least our pasty wannabe Aryans in my pen were cunts of the highest order. You didn't make eye contact with them. You didn't buy off them. Most of them couldn't even fuck you up in my prison, they were weedy little shitbirds who got nasty nazi tats to look tough.
Just by virtue of getting the brands, they could make your life hell by fucking with you until you get a transfer People are not friendly inside.
I was slightly proud for social wrapped that part of me up so more during my maximum that I necessary it safe. I've quoted too much more violence for one only time. Grew my opinion nail long and switched it on the holder so it was easily enough to cut interest my sub, and would focus the crushed up rental inside.
It's an endless shit fight of politics and fuckery. This one hits me particularly hard. I feel like this, but at all times. Even in my attempts to drown out massive parts of my psych, I always feel this part of me that sits and stares at all of my faults, examining, saying 'Look here! I do have a question for you. I've had this belief that you can't really know yourself until you've experienced a great tragedy in your life. This can be a near death experience this feels similar, as you surmised earlierthe loss of a loved one, or any number of extremely harrowing 'adventures'. Do you feel this is true? It's easily evident that you have grown a lot as a person. What doesn't kill you makes you My prison cellmates cock was huge, as they say.
Would you consider this a level celmates enlightenment, where your life is now more fulfilled after these experiences? Or if you had the chance, you would roll everything back and cellamtes the man before the crime? Thank you coock even considering to coock to answer our questions. Will still answer questions when peison I stop by since some of you get a kick out of it. There was a kind of 'mini-riot' in our dorm not long before I got out. A fight celkmates over something in the yard, I didn't see what, and the boss, who must have been new or something, cellmatfs the best way to deal with it was to coral convicts back into the common area and push everyone back into their cells.
Me and about three other guys were all ready in our cells, which were on the top tier of our block, and so we're looking down at about 20 COs trying to push about convicts through a set of double doors. One of the COs was getting his face smashed in by two guys on either side of him, so another CO has gone to hit one of them with his taser. Now I don't know what happened, I think this one boss forgot he still had a cartridge loaded - mostly in a situation like that, the COs use the 'contact' taser, which is the little pistol but they have to press it into you to shock you - so he's gone to do that, but fired off a cartridge, the one that sends off the two spikes into the target.
All four of enter a cell, my black master makes me strip in front of his buddies, as I am stripping three more black men enter. My master, forces me onto my knees, he pulls out his black fuck-stick. He tells me to make love to it, suck it to his balls. I start sucking it like it is the meat tube of life. That was the first load shot down my throat, I am horny as hell. My dick is hard, and my ass is oozing. My master tells me to service his friends, and I do as I am told. One of them sits on the bunk, one position behind me. I start sucking one dick; someone behind me starts rubbing my asshole. He starts to rub lube around my bung, forces one finger in, then two, then three.
He works them for a while, my asshole is very receptive. With one dick in my mouth, the black studs mounts up on my plump ass, he jams that dick all the way up to his balls, I scream as loud as I can with a ten inch dick in my mouth. The stud fucking my mouth grabs my ears and starts to fuck my mouth serious intentions of choking me with his cock; the stud fucking my ass is slamming it home like he wants to split me in two. These are a furious couple of minutes of pain and pleasure, almost simultaneous they blow their loads, I flop on to floor cum pouring out of my loosen asshole and cum pouring out of my mouth.
As I lay on the floor, two of them pick me and put me on the bunk, lying there on my back someone spreads my legs and lifts them to my chest. I start to become aware of what is happening, it is too late, he shoves his foot long pecker into my gaping love tube. I cannot scream, all I can do is grunt with pleasure.
As Fock am being fucked like the white pison that I am, another leans over me, shoves his blue schlong into my gaping mouth. He jams that purple-headed beast into my mouth. The two of them work into frenzy; they shove in and out in at the same time. I am in pure ecstasy. The purple-headed beast blow his big beautiful nut all over my face. The stud fucking me pulls out and shoots his seed onto my chest.