Carolina Connections

Sully had had to take Big Mike's cock regularly, though. That wasn't much of a problem for Sully. He was in for male prostitution anyway and Big Mike had a very nice cock. Without Big Mike, Sully might not have made it to the end of his four-year sentence. He was built small and thin, and with his sandy-colored hair that he liked to wear long and his squeaky-high voice, he was just what some of the rougher, a lot bigger, randy, and "fuck anything you can get" inmates, who sometimes craved someone they could pretend was a woman in the dim lighting of their cell, would have like to play with to death if he didn't have a protector like Big Mike.

He realized that Swede had paired him with Big Mike, so, as scared as he was of the senior guard, he knew he owed his continued existence to Swede.

"We have a policy here for those who have kept themselves clean and out of trouble," Swede, the senior guard at the Caldwell Correctional Center, near Lenoir in North Carolina, said. "Some guys are turned over to me the day before they are released to wind down with a day away from the cell and back in civilization. It's sort of a transition available to the prisoners who have minded their manners." What he didn't want to add out loud was that the last night on the inside could be made quite rough by the other inmates, especially for a small chicken like Sully. Big Mike couldn't be everywhere at once, plus it would be Big Mike's last night with Sully too. He could lose control and tear the boy apart. And if he didn't, there were a lot of other inmates who would like to get their last chance with someone like Sully.

"So, what's going to happen today?" Sully asked, eyeing Swede apprehensively.

"What's going to happen, unless you opt to stay in your cell tonight, which I don't recommend, is that you'll go with me. You'll get a taste of what you weren't allowed to do inside, whether or not you did manage to do some of it--with me. Then I'll return you here in time for a formal release after I give you the traditional 'keep yourself from being here again' speech. You up for that?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sully answered. What choice did he have? Swede didn't have to tell him about the danger of the last night inside. Guys had been whispering to him for weeks what they'd do to him if they got a last chance at him. And they'd been counting down the days. He'd been dreading this day. He was scared spitless of Swede too, but he was the lesser of two evils. And there was a hint he could have a beer, maybe even a joint. Swede was a supplier. Using wasn't dealing. Sully couldn't be thrown back in here just for using now and again, could he?

They went for a burger at the McDonald's in Lenoir, the first claimed all-beef patty Sully had had for four years. They went to Swede's gym, which was gay friendly, and worked out in just jocks and athletic shoes. Here Sully got attention that didn't have threats and intimidation behind it as he'd been subjected to for the previous four years whenever he'd gone into the yard to work out. He could begin to appreciate once again the opportunity of going with a guy because he'd chosen to and just for the enjoyment of the fuck, not because he would die if he didn't--and possibly could die if he did. Swede was showing him more respect too now that he had one foot on the outside. He didn't have to look at Swede now as someone who could take it from him--and had done so in the past--just because he had the power to do it.

Swede was looking better to Sully as a sex partner now. He had all of the equipment to show Sully a good time, and he was less intimidating with each passing moment of this transition period. Sully began to think of the possibility of being fucked by Swede tonight more as something to look forward to than something to be feared and avoided, if possible. It hadn't been clear where Sully would spend the night.

After they worked out at the gym, they put on running shoes and ran in a park near the gym. Sully was nearly blinded by the green of the park. All he'd seen beyond work details on dusty roads for the last couple of years was the grayness of the prison. It was a minimum-security prison, so there was some green about, but not like the lush foliage of this park--the foliage that came right to the edge of the running paths and arched over it. The paths were serpentine and there were side paths leading to benches or water fountains, where, for as long as you might want it, you were all alone in the world. It was by such a water fountain that Swede drew Sully to him and kissed him--and that Swede took Sully's hand and placed it on Swede's basket in case the young man hadn't remembered how hung Swede was.

As they commenced running again, Sully started looking at the foliage in the park as someplace where Swede could take them off the path and lay him. But that didn't happen then.

They went back to the gym, did some more work with the weights, and went to the showers. Swede made sure Sully saw him naked in his shower cubicle--just in case Sully had not remembered how great Swede's body was. But Sully remembered, and in considering that what he could get from Swede now was by choice rather than assault, Sully had the urge to enter the shower cubicle, shut the curtain, and climb the hulk's hips. But that didn't happen then.

They went out to Swede's 1995 beat-up Dodge Ram and sat for a while, chatting about how the world had changed since Sully had been pulled inside. Swede produced a couple of joints, and they smoked those. Sully was growing more mellow by the moment. They kissed. Sully unzipped Swede and pulled his half-hard cock out. Sully lowered his face and took Swede's cock in his mouth. Swede let him suck the cock off. Sully had gotten a lot of experience in sucking socks inside Caldwell, including Swede's, but this was the first time in a long time he was giving head by his own choice and because he wanted to.

It was getting dark and toward dinner time, and they were still sitting in Swede's truck at the back of the gym parking lot. Guys were coming and going from the lot. Swede's truck obviously was seen, and Swede was well known here. It was a gay-friendly gym. Seeing two guys in the truck making out didn't bother anyone who was passing by.

"There's a new steak house on the edge of Lenoir that's pretty good," Swede said after he'd come and Sully zipped him back up. "At least you don't break your knife blade trying to cut it up there. We could go there for dinner."

"Oh, they give you knives there?" Sully asked, and they both laughed. This was as loose as Sully had felt in years. Swede came in for another kiss, and as they kissed, he unbuttoned Sully's shirt and then undid Sully's belt and unzipped his trousers. Sully's lithe, boyish body lay open to Swede and the big guy kissed down Sully's torso and, while Sully moaned, swallowed the young man's cock and sucked him off.

"So, how about a steak you can cut with a knife?" Swede asked after Sully had come and Swede kissed his way back up Sully's torso and they had gone into and come out of a lip lock. This was a different Swede than Sully had known before--a more gentle one, one who took Sully's needs into account rather than just ripping Swede's own satisfaction out of him. Life on the outside with Swede would, Sully thought, be far different from when Swede was a guard where Sully was an inmate.

"Sure, I'd like that," Sully said.

"In a bit," Swede said, putting an arm under Sully's back and turning the young man to where he was reclining against the passenger door. Swede's other hand was pulling Sully's trousers and briefs off his legs. He moved the gym bag that had been on the passenger side floor to under Sully's reclining back.

"You gonna fuck me right here, Swede?" Sully asked, a bit of shock revealed in his voice.

"Yes, if you say yes, I'm gonna fuck you right here, Sully. If you say no, I won't. That's the difference between the outside and prison. On the outside you can say no. What do you say? I'll fuck you good."

"I say yes," Sully said.

So Swede covered him and fucked him. He did it slow, thick, and deep, paying attention to what Sully liked and to what he liked better. Big Mike hadn't been a violent lover, and he'd been as thick as Swede was, but he hadn't been the lover that Swede was now being on the front seat of his Dodge ram. When Swede finished with him, Sully had been FUCKED. He lay there, tongue hanging out, a glazed look in his eyes, as Swede straightened back up behind the wheel, folded himself back into his trousers, zipped himself up, and started up the truck's engine.

They went to the steakhouse and then they went to a pool bar and played some pool. Swede let Sully have a beer and then another, neither of which the young man was legally allowed. He still formally was an inmate of the Caldwell Corrections Center. Then they sat in the truck and necked a bit and smoked another joint.

"So, tonight," Swede said. "I can take you back to the prison for the night or you can come to my place."

"Where do you live?" Sully asked.

"Somewhere barely livable. Above a pizza parlor on Lenoir's main street. Lumpy bed. Your cell is probably fancier."

"Let's go to your place," Sully said.

At Swede's third-floor apartment, Swede opened the door, ushered Sully in, and closed the door behind them. As Sully did a sweep of the small apartment with his eyes, which didn't take long, Swede came in behind him and put his big mitts on Sully's shoulders. Sully sighed and leaned back into Swede's chest. Swede's hands went to Sully's throat and his thumbs pressed up under Sully's jaw. Sully's eyes opened wide and then closed, as finding the pressure points, Swede quickly put Sully out, using a quick, silent treatment he'd learned as a Navy SEAL, and Sully's body sank to the floor.

* * * *

In 2006 Swede had had enough of the Navy SEALs. The missions were honorable, the conditioning was superb, and the guys were friendly and had your back--some of them had and gave much more. That being narcissistic, loving your body, and being prone to loving another guy's body too because women were hard to come by and SEAL work was high tension went with the territory. Swede had no trouble with the territory, either giving or taking cock, but he'd just had enough of a life at top speed and full of danger in godawful places. He was from beautiful North Carolina, and he had a hankering to return there.

The problem was what does a Navy SEAL move on to? He didn't want to be a cop, and he didn't want to run a gym. He spent quite enough time working out in gyms now. Of course, a Mr. Universe body was his best asset--that and that he was eight thick inches cut.

After nosing around, he discovered the possibility of becoming a guard in a prison. He didn't like the prospect of a maximum-security prison and the muscle required for that, but there were minimum-security prisons, with young guys captive there for the needs of their jailers, and they had those in North Carolina.

He was filling out his application to the North Carolina Division of Prisons the day he was on what looked like a merchant ship at anchor off Aden, in Yemen, but wasn't, when he heard the voices and the scrape of another vessel against the hull and went out onto the deck in time to see a young man come on board. The guy climbing up the ladder was black and well-built without being muscle bound like so many of the SEALs--and, indeed, Swede himself--were, and he had Asian features. Some sort of mixed breed, Swede thought. He was a handsome devil and carried himself like he owned the place. He was both movie star handsome and thuggish in aspect. Swede thought he was just a new SEAL coming on duty, although his body didn't look bulked up enough for that; he wasn't in uniform, although none of them were where they now were located. They'd lost a couple in the action they'd just come off of. They were hovering off the international airport runways in the Khormakser section of Aden, waiting for the furor over their operation elsewhere to die down before they set sail to their next assignment.

But the man coming on board was not a new SEAL arrival.

Swede was called up to the chart room deck by the SEAL team leader.

"This here is Ty, Swede. He's with SOG and has need for some assistance tonight. What he wants is in your specialty, so I want you to go with him for the night." Swede knew that the SOG was the CIA's Special Operations Group, which recruited from the SEALs. The team leader knew Swede was getting antsy where he was, but that he was great at special service's needs. Swede figured he was being set up for an audition with the SOG. He wanted out altogether, but he respected what the team leader was trying to do for him--and it wasn't his place to say yes or no to taking an assignment anyway.

A nondescript car was waiting for them at the dock in Khormakser. Nothing was said while they drove, Ty having gestured to the car's driver and made known that nothing should be said in Swede's hearing. The car took them past the airport and around the side of the water-inundated volcano crater that made up the center of Aden, and to the main old city district of Shaykh Uthman. They were let off in front of a flat-fronted concrete building of some ten stories that had zero architectural design. The sign over the door said it was the Al Mansuri Apartment Hotel. They went in--and down, not just one story but two.

They entered a smoke-filled room covered in Oriental rugs and terraced levels holding an assortment of café and banquette tables and reclining couches, leading down to a stage area on which nearly naked young men were slow-dancing poles to the sound of whiny Arabic music. All of the patrons were men, men engaging with men. All of the waiters were nearly naked and had great bodies. They had entered an entirely different world and one that was a surprising find for an Islamic country.

They were taken to a banquette table. Ty snuggled in close to Swede, put an arm around him, and pulled him into a deep kiss on the lips. Swede's eyes opened wide in surprise. They smoldered, though, as he became aware that the kiss was really, really good. Ty's arm remained around his shoulders.

Coming out the kiss, Ty murmured, "Go with it. You've seen what we have here. I was told you both gave and took cock. Kiss me if that's right."

Swede came in for a kiss. He didn't really need much of an invitation to want to do that. This guy was a hunk and a half.

"We're here to pick up an informant we're worried about. He likes rough sex but maybe not as rough as he's going to get. You're here to help me work him over to where I can decide whether he's turned on us or not. If it gets to wet work, I won't expect you to join in that part. I just want you to fuck him good and roughly. I'm going to show we're a couple here, just a couple of foreigners into each other and waiting for a friend. If you're good with this, just lay back into the cushions and let me do what I'm going to do. We'll be doing more than this later with each other as we debrief this informant. Understand? Your team leader said you'd be willing and able to go with this."

The SEAL team leader had every reason to know what Swede would go with, the SEAL thought. And the team leader wasn't half as sexy as this Ty guy was. Still he jerked when he felt his fly being unzipped and the man's hand moving inside and exploring, flesh on flesh. He sank back into the cushions and gave the SOG guy a dreamy look. It wasn't hard to do. And speaking of hard...

Ty's intake of breath at what he was finding made Swede say, "So, you want some of that?"

"Yes, later," Ty said. "Your team leader said you were hung, and he didn't lie. He also said you--"

"Go both ways. And you?"

"Me too."

"So, we're gonna have some fun?"

"Absolutely. You ever doubled a guy before?"

"Yes. Is that what this informant of yours wants?"

"It's what this informant of mine is going to get. Your team leader says you're a Carolina boy."

"Yep. Greenville, North Carolina. You too?"

"A place called Oriental. Near the coast. So, both Carolina boys. We're gonna have ourselves some fun tonight, Swede."

"Speaking of Oriental. You don't look that much like a Carolina boy."

"Mother's Thai, but my father was an American black--Army, assigned to Thailand at one time. OK, we can come out of the clutches now. The mark has entered the club. His name's Tariq. I don't think you need to know more. I doubt that Tariq will be around much longer."

Ty stood and waved at someone in the aisle at the top of the stairs. Swede followed the line of his sight to a slender young man in a white Arabic robe, called a thawb, with a white-and-red-checked head scarf called a ghuthrain. The young man saw them too, his eyes going to Swede after recognizing Ty, who he must have known. He slowly picked his way down the tiers to the table. Ty gestured for him to sit in the banquette on the other side of Swede.

"This is what I got for you, Tariq. Is this what you wanted? He's a big bruiser, just like you said you wanted, and he's hung. I checked him out myself."

Swede caught on to why he was here and smiled at the young Yemeni and put a hand on his knee. Tariq shuddered and gave him a sloppy grin. "Yes, perfect," he said.

"Shall we have drinks or some hashish?" Ty said.

"Yes, please," Tariq answered, not taking his eyes off Swede. He was looking him up and down, eyeballing each muscle on the man separately. Both substances, alcohol and drugs, of course, were taboo in Yemen--and most certainly among the fundamental terrorists Ty was suggesting that Tariq might be either feeding information to or was actually a member of.

They mellowed out for the next forty-five minutes on alcohol, drugs, watching the pole-dancing Arabs. Tariq and Swede increasingly intimately groped each other, both knowing where this was leading in the short term. In the longer term, though, Tariq thought he was receiving a reward for the information he passed to Ty, while Ty and Swede knew something else was afoot. Whatever Swede knew he'd had to divine. He clearly got that there was sex involved, though. He hoped that it would include sex with Ty.

It did.

Ty had the keys to an apartment on the eighth floor--an apartment that some would call a safe house, an apartment that had been triply sound insulated and had back stairs down to an alley, for various reasons.

"So, do we talk first about information?" Tariq said when they were in the apartment and Ty had locked the door behind them. The apartment was buttoned up tight. All the windows were covered by shutters, reflective-surface blinds, and metallic drapes. Furniture was limited. There was, of course, a king-sized bed in the bedroom. Swede had a possessive arm around Tariq, who was dwarfed in the big man's embrace.

"No, you two can enjoy yourselves first. We'll talk later. Jack here could hardly wait to be with you when I told him about you." Swede had become Jack for Tariq's benefit.

The two Americans helped Tariq undress--he had jeans and a T-shirt under the thawb--while Tariq and Swede groped each other. Once stripped, and Ty having folded Tariq's clothes and taken them into the other room, Swede guided Tariq to the bed, pushed him down to a seated position and moved between his thighs, giving the Arab access to Swede's thick cock and lemon-sized balls. Tariq had a ball sucking Swede off--he'd put in a special request to Ty for a huge, hung American, one even bigger than Ty, who was nothing to sneeze at in the size department--and then Swede had a ball pushing Tariq up on the bed, manipulating him into position, mounting him, penetrating him, and fucking the shit out of him.

The young Arab cried out at the first penetration and clawed at Swede's body, but as he opened to the massive shaft, his cries turned to moan and groans and he soon was laid out on the bed, his knees hooked on Swede's hips, his face turned to the side with his tongue hanging out, and moving his pelvis with the rocking of the man covering him. "Neaam, neaam, ymars aljones mia li emek!--Yes, yes, fuck me deep!" he cried out, as Swede did just that.