Nightstick

The moaning woke him up, the sound of heavy breathing. It sounded like a bad porno and his first thought was that someone should turn the fucking television set down. Jack’s second thought had something to do with the stark remembrance that this complex had no TVs.

Careful not to make a sound, he opened his eyes, staring across his empty cell, across his dark gray sheets, through the thick round bars, and across the hall, to the bars in front of him, where he saw something that made his eyes widen and his cock twitch in a decidedly uncomfortable way.

The man in the cell across from him was rubbing his bare ass up and down the smooth bars of his cell, bending his body lithely forward. The motion lifted the muscles of his ass, spread the soft flesh apart.

Jack could only wonder how that cold metal felt. Not like fucking toilet paper, not like a quick sweep of soap in the shower, he figured. He’d heard stories of prison, knew what happened to guys sometimes. Knew what some guys liked sometimes. But in six months he hadn’t seem a damn thing like this before.

Thank god he had no cellmate, because he was rock hard now, his soft pants tenting with the proud heat of his erection.

He stroked it some, mentally warning the damn thing to settle down before someone decided he was a fag.

The man’s ass was pale, gleaming a little in the dim nighttime lighting. And he was still moaning. A slight shaking motion betraying the fact that the arm Jack could barely see was frantically jerking him off.

In a few moments, Jack heard the distinct sound of polished shoes creaking down the hallway, and he stared as the pale-assed man continued his strange display.

If anything the guy got louder, like he was excited to hear the sound. Jack would have been under the sheets and faking sleep by then, he thought. In fact, he’d already stuck his pillow up next to his hip, so that the approaching guard wouldn’t immediately notice his raging hard-on.

“Hands on the floor,” the guard said quietly, with a disconcerting amount of gentleness.

Jack watched with a warm, arousing sort of horror as the prisoner did just that, showing an admirable amount of flexibility. The man shifted his body just enough so that between the black lines of two bars, he could make out the vaguely pink shadow of the man’s ass hole.

His cock jumped, and he jumped in response, nearly disrupting the pillow.

A squirting sound distracted him from his panic, and he looked at the two men again, eyes widening to see that the guard was squirting something out of a clear plastic bottle. Something thicker than water. It dripped and dribbled all down the crack of the man’s ass and around his hole and down over the dark, delicate lines of his testicles.

Jack started stroking his cock again.

Jack had no idea why a guy would want something slimy and wet dripping all down his ass, but the prisoner across the hall seemed to like it. He whimpered so loud that the sound echoed and made Jack’s cock throb once more in his fingers.

The guard almost emptied the whole damn bottle before he started dripping it onto the black nightstick in his fingers. The blunt tip got shiny with the substance, and Jack stared. That…was…a nightstick, right? It looked a lot like a giant black cock. But guards weren’t supposed to carry giant black cocks around with them. No way.

“Brace yourself,” said the guard.

The prisoner made a long, keening sound when the guard slid the nightstick-cock back and forth over his wrinkled little hole.

Even from across the hall Jack could see the man’s body twitching and trembling. He stroked his cock harder.

The hallway echoed with a plastic sound when the guard dropped the bottle to the floor in favor of stroking his own cock. Thankfully, his back was mostly to Jack, because Jack didn’t want to see his cock.

Anyway Jack couldn’t tear his eyes off of the sight of the man’s pale ass accepting the blackness of the nightstick, his rosy skin stretching in a tight ring around it. Jack didn’t understand why the man wasn’t screaming or better yet, getting well away from the bars. The stick was maybe nine inches long, tops. One good lunge forward and he’d be well out of the way of getting fucked in the ass. Unless the guard had a key or something, which he probably did, but then…why wasn’t he inside in the first place. ...The bars did give good leverage, though.

That prisoner’s ass was so fucking pale and pretty…

Jack stroked his cock harder, biting his lip, trying not to cry out.

Though even if he did the sound wouldn’t be heard over the now constant moaning of the prisoner. The shiny black cock pushed in and out of his body over and over, deeper than Jack thought anything could go in a man’s body. His balls tightened as he watched, and he tugged at them for a moment…not yet…he didn’t want to come yet…not while…oh god…

The guard turned slightly, resting his weight against the bars as he shoved that thing into the prisoner even harder, even faster, making the man scream a little. A weird, happy sort of scream.

Jack could see the guard’s cock now, glistening with a little bit of that slick stuff, the head all purple and thick. The man’s skin looked a little bit sweaty, the only sign that he wasn’t completely composed.

Jack wondered how exactly you could look that composed while jerking off and sticking a big black prick in a guy’s tight ass.

“Now,” the guard said softly, prompting a weird trembling motion in the prisoner. Jack realized belatedly that he was holding himself up with one hand and pumping his own cock with the other.

Brilliant, Jack thought, just as he came, choking tightly, come seeping through his pants and onto his fingers. Don’t look, don’t look, he thought, staring, holding his cock tight.

He didn’t have to worry, because the two men seemed preoccupied, the guard with watching his sticky come splatter all over the prisoner’s ass, and the prisoner with trying to keep his balance while his ass tightened visibly around the cock-shaped nightstick.

Jack was holding his breath now, and he was fairly certain he was going to pass out when he saw the big thing finally slip out of the prisoner’s ass. The man’s hole was flushed darker now, and gaping a little. His ass warmed with sympathy, making him inexplicably want to reach around and touch himself there.

The guard slipped the wet thing into a holster on his hip—Jack hoped he planned on cleaning both off—and then stepped back to watch the prisoner shakily stand and turn.

Jack finally looked away, blushing, when the men kissed. He realized later that this wrecked any chances he might have had to read their lips as they murmured things too soft to hear.

By the time he looked back, the guard was already walking off, and the cell across the way appeared empty, the prisoner hidden in the shadows of his own bunk.

Naked, Jack imagined, between the sheets.