Conjugal Visit

She is waiting to see him. Her breath catches in her throat as she walks through the sterile prison halls. This isn't the main compound, where the prisoners are kept. This is a special building made specifically for...visitation. Conjugal visits are common place around the world but not in the United States. Only five states maintain the right of conjugal visitation, believing that prisoners were "unredeemable". She didn't really want to come. But she felt...regret. He wasn't the greatest husband in the world but she is all he has. She can't just leave him high and dry. She certainly isn't. It was hard staying loyal. She hadn't gotten dick in over two years. At this point, she was desperate. Even if it meant a one pump session, which she assumed hadn't improved from his time in jail.

She sits in the waiting room, waiting for the guard's to buzz her in. Their eyes were...uncomfortable. But she was used to that reaction from men. She wore the dress for her husband but the sundress highlights her...assets quite well. It's obviously something they noticed. Their eyes feast on her thick build, her large wobbling ass and bouncing tits barely contained within the dress itself.

She hears the buzzer then rushes through the doorway, slightly anxious to get to the safety of the conjugal room itself. She knows she wasn't a prisoner, but guards aren't exactly kind to black people and she isn't about to test their tolerance or resolve.

"Keep down the hall, then take a left. It will be in the first room on the right." She walks down the hall, keeping straight before heading right and walking into the first room.

The room is sparse. Only a few belongings, and a box on condoms and lube strewn ominously around. But more ominous is the sound of the door locking behind her. She knows this is a security precaution. Escape attempts had been tried before, so they keep the door locked for the entire three hour period. But no cameras. She had actually been at that protest. The right to privacy, free from exploitation. Yadda yadda. She puts on a smile and sways forward. It isn't a great situation but she might as well make the best of it. He's sitting on the bed, but it's dark so she can barely see him.

Until he gets up.

6 ft, 3 in. Rippling with toned muscles and spiraling inked tattoos. His chiseled jaw and intimidating stare rips right through her. She immediately realizes her mistake, rushing to the door.

"Hey! You gave me the wrong room! Let me out!" Her knocking goes on deaf ears. It dawns on her that the same measures that were meant to give partners privacy, had her trapped. "Motherfucker..."

"What's your name, lil' mama?"

"It's..." She knows she probably shouldn't say anything but, if they are going to be trapped in here for three hours, she might as well start things off on the right foot. "Esmeralda."

"So what are you doing here, Esmeralda? What's a fine ass looking woman like yourself doing in my domain?" Under normal circumstances, the idea of this teeny sterile room being referred to as a domain would be a joke. But he is dominating the space, pulling her in. In many ways, the statement seems completely accurate.

"I'm...I..was here for my husband."

"That explains the dress huh?" His eyes ravage her body savagely before piercing her with a look of pure...

Want.

She covers her tits, embarrassed both at the attention but also how her body was reacting to it. Within a minute, she's soaked. She feels like a teenager again. Her heartbeat races a mile a minute as she tries to figure out a way out of this. She pulls out her cellphone and begins dialing a number.

"Don't bother. This building kills cell reception. Security precautions and all that. You know how it is." He begins to clear sheets off his bed, folding them tightly before placing them on the table near the bed. "Sit."

"I don't think I should..."

"Sit..." Fear and interest drives her to move from her fearful bundled position near the corner by the door to the spot on the bed the mysterious prisoner had pointed out.

"So who's your husband? I know everyone here."

"And why's that?"

"See this." He points at a small DR branded deep on his forearm.

"Been on death row for five years now."

"But you haven't been...?"

"Well, I'm talking to you now, ain't I? Nah, they keep deliberating on my case. It's all political you know. The current administration is going for re-election, and his base is getting more progressive. Killing people in prisons is starting to look less and less like a good platform to run on. But on the other hand, they still gotta be 'tough on crime' so here I am." He sits next to her on the bed, his presence unnerving but not exactly unappealing. He has a kind of warmth about him despite the situation.

"So what did you do?"

"To get in here? I'm a killer. Killed five men to earn my spot."

"You don't seem like..."

"A thug?"

"Look, I've been around the block. You're no gangbanger." Her thoughts drift briefly to her husband before focusing sharply on how close he is to her.

"And how would you know that? Who's your husband?"

"I...you don't need to know that. I don't even know who you are. You the hell are you?" She springs up from the bed, her reason flooding back into her mind. Attractive or not, he killed five men. This nigga is dangerous.

"I'm Merlyn."

"Maddog Merlyn?" Two and two come to together in her mind and in a second she's slamming back on the door. "Let me out. Let me the fuck out. Leaving me with Maddog Merlyn, you lost your goddamn..."

"They ain't gonna hear you. Don't bother. Besides I won't hurt you."

"What is that? Scout's honor? I seriously doubt you were a scout."

"Actually...I was. Got every badge in the book."

"Was one of them for serial killing? Or was that just for the bucket list?" She tries to position the table in between her and Merlyn.

"Alright, do what you want. I won't stop you." He pulls off his shirt, revealing toned muscles and abs outlined by scars and ink. His back muscles flex powerfully as he pulls the bed to the side. Beneath the bed is a hole with a number of belongings. And a picture.

A woman.

"Who's she?"

"What, I thought I was just a serial killer?"

"You were. Are. I'm guessing she's one of your victims."

"She...was my wife." She feels a pang of guilt before moving from behind the table.

"What happened to her?"

"She's dead. She was mugged then raped. She told me so went to the police together. They didn't do anything. Didn't even file a report. But I guess they were afraid of being ID'd. Maybe since rape is getting more attention these days. So they killed her. Drive-by. Nothing special. Nothing could be proven. But I knew who they were. So I went to their house and...I think you know the rest."

"So...they were...Okay but why not just use a gun? Why a machete?"

"It was actually my wife's machete. She got it from her mom, you know. Family heirloom. Figured she would like that if..." He breathes deep before sinking onto the bed, the picture in hand. "I know that isn't what she would've wanted from me. But I couldn't just let it lie. No one is going to remember her name. Or why she died. To the rest of the people, she didn't matter. But she mattered to me."

"What was her name?"

"Ramona. Her name was Ramona." Esmeralda sits down next to him, no longer afraid. She can feel his sadness, regret, anger pouring off in waves. It's overwhelming and sombering. She doesn't know what she can do in the face of this kind of pain but she puts her hand on his shoulder, her fingers grazing over his calloused skin.

"His name is Michael. My husband's name is Michael. Michael Hawkins."

"Mike...Mike..." He thought about it for a moment before an image appeared in his head. "Ohh you mean Atlanta. He was in for dealing and possession right?"

"Yeah, he was..."

"You didn't want to come?"

"I want to come. I mean I wanted to. I just...our marriage wasn't...isn't perfect." She still can feel the stinging of bruises left across the ribs. They had faded but the burns never healed. "Things were fine when he still had the job on the plant but after he was laid off...he didn't know what to do. None of us did. I think he took it out on me for that. I had to pick up two jobs to keep the house but it wasn't enough. So I started...dancing on the side. When he found out about that..." She pulls up her sleeves. Burn scars lace and mottle her dark brown skin like a twisted mosaic.

"That's when I took the kids. But I just...couldn't do it on my own. I moved back in and he started dealing. It wasn't long till he got caught in a drug bust."

"What kind of bitch hits his woman? And this...fuck... I've seen men killed for less."

"Look, he's not perfect. But he's the father of my children. He's still my man."

"That ain't a man. Listen to me. Anyone who does this." He moves his hand gently across his scars, staring straight into her eyes. "Isn't a man."

Time seems to freeze as his course fingers traced across her arms. He traces the scars up, until he reaches her neck, his fingers wrapping lightly around the side.

"And you are, Merlyn?"

"Well, I'm not perfect, but I would never hurt my woman."

"And...how would you treat your woman?" She bites her lip before looking straight at him. With one look, he knows exactly what that meant.

Want.

He slams her against the door, his hands tracing down her body.

"Are you sure you want this?"

Esmeralda pulls her panties down her legs, letting them drop to floor. Damp and useless.

"Yes."

That is all he needs. He grabs the top of her thighs, lifting her off the ground and pinning her against the door. His teeth sinks into her neck, roughly tearing at the skin before moving onto her thick, cocksucking lips. His tongue dances with hers before he pulls her off the wall. He throws her to the bed hard, causing the spring to twist and bend under the weight.

She struggles to pull off her dress for a moment but Merlyn tears it off before she even has the chance. The worst part being she only slightly regrets seeing the torn remains of her dress in his fingers. Her tits are next. His fingers groping harshly, but precisely. She isn't sure how long it was since he had sex, but one thing was clear. He is a pro.

The bed is already drenched but it only gets worse as he begins to kiss downward. Past her chest, her tummy, right to the drenched wanton slit between her legs. The powerful scent drags him lower until his mouth is only inches away. Then his tongue closes the distance.

"Oh...oh fuck..." His tongue plays her like a harmonica. It homes in on her clit and never let up. Soon she is writhing, her hands digging into the sheets for any kind of support. Her words descend into moans. Which descend into screams. Which descend into quiet begs and whimpers. Eventually her body tightens up, as she feels a crashing wave of pleasure barrel through her, flattening her to the bed.

"Please...mercy..."

"We're not done yet, baby." He pulls out his cock and it lands on the bed with a loud whump. The sound is ominous enough, but when Esmeralda finally pulls her head up, she is greeted by the largest, most sinister looking black cock she had ever seen in her life. This is the kind of dick that made pornstars shrivel in fear and envy. Jesus, she didn't even know cocks could get that big. And it isn't just long. It's thick like a coke can. She doesn't even think she could fully wrap her hand around it. A proper handjob is basically impossible. Let alone putting that monster inside of her.

She shakes in fear and anticipation.

"Wait... Maybe this isn't such a..." Then it starts to harden. And her pussy overwhelms her brain. Whether her hormones had completely killed reason or not, she knows she has to go through with it.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No. No. Let's do this." She pulls off a pillowcase and ties it across her mouth, biting deep into the fabric before shaking her head quickly.

He inserts it slowly, and despite being drenched, she feels her pussy contract in total petrifying fear. This fear is soon replaced with pain as it tears a trench through her vagina. She can feel every throb and vein as all the space is soon replaced with massive amounts of black cock. She feels like she's going to pass out for a moment. But then the pain started to plateau. And before she knows it, all of it was in. She didn't know how it was possible, or what organs he is displacing in the process. But she doesn't care. She just wants him to fuck her.

"I'm fine. Don't stop." Soon the entire complex fills with the sounds of flesh slapping roughly against flesh. His gigantic balls smack against her like a slingshot, cracking like a whip. Her entire body ripples, her huge tits jiggling like jello in a wind turbine. Her mind died, and what replaced it is a constant, ravenous urge to get fucked till she can't walk.

"Hello. Mrs. Hawkins. I've been sent to retrieve..." The guard is greeted with the sight of Esmeralda being torn to pieces by Merlyn, the sight of their fucking is so aggressive, he's briefly worried about her safety. Before just decided to leave her. "...Slut..." He mutters as he closes the door, letting it lock again.

She tries to bring words out, ask who that was but the thoughts quickly become jumbled and blocked by cock. It's like he was plowing out her thoughts, concerns, anxieties as well as her abused pussy.

She gets closer, feeling the intense building of her 20th orgasm bulldozing through her. But right before the end, Merlyn pulls out. Slow, letting her feel every inch leaving her. The feeling of emptiness is brutal, cruel and instantly horrible. Like being dunked in ice water.

"But...wait..."

"Don't worry." He flips her over on her stomach before grabbing her by her neck and gripping right under her tummy. He pulls her off the bed and shifts his hands to her shoulders as he impales her on his cock. Her feet dangle uselessly in the air as he began to use her a fleshlight, slamming her body down to the base, then back up to the tip again and again. She quickly gets used to the rough tempo and feeling herself get closer each time her body slams towards the base.

"I'm getting close."

"Uhhhh...ughhhh..." That's all she could respond with as she felt their orgasms building together. Everything felt synced together. Heartbeats, breathing, thrusts. Until there's a single intimate moment where they were one. Then they came. Cum comes bursting out like a firehose, drenching her insides. It quickly fills her like an eclair before pouring out and dripping onto the ground. With every sharp impregnating thrust and throb she feels her pussy tighten against his cock. She milks it, savoring every sensation as he knocks her up.

Once they finished, she goes limp. Blacking out in an instant.

When she wakes up, an hour had already passed. Standing over her are three guards, ready to escort her out. Unfortunately, her dress is destroyed and her cum-covered state make things very clear.

"It's time for you to leave, ma'am."

"Wait but I don't want to..."

"You have to go Esmeralda. You have a life. You have your children. I'm...not going anywhere anytime soon." He kisses her forehead softly. "If we never see each other again, just remember how a real man should treat you."

"I'll never forget."