Coventry Correctional

"Now take your thumb and rub my asshole. Don't stop, don't you fucking stop. Go slower if you have to, just don't fucking stop!"

It took some coordination, and he did have to slow down a little, but Tommy managed to rim her asshole with his thumb even as he kept fucking her pussy. His legs and arms kept up constant thrusts, spurred on by the hot latex pressing around his cock and the rhythmic screams from Gwen.

"Yeah, yeah," cried out Gwen. "Now put your thumb in my asshole."

"What?!"

"You're going to fuck my ass with your thumb and fuck my pussy with your cock at the same time. Do it!"

A short while later, she felt his thumb slide on through her backdoor. Getting filled in both holes made everything tighter, and the both of them roared their satisfaction.

"Oh, God, you like that?" grunted Tommy. "You like getting fucked like that?!"

"Fuck my holes, Tommy! Fuck both my holes, fuck me like you're fucking dying!"

Tommy took her words to heart and put everything he had into relentlessly plowing her. Every muscle was screaming and slick with sweat. His throat was hoarse from grunting and moaning. Gwen was too exhausted to keep humping back, but she was too close to climax and it was too impossibly good. There was nothing in her entire world except every fiber of her body vibrating with the heat and movement of hot rigid writhing flesh reaming her two most sensitive holes at once.

Gwen rubbed her hard swollen clit while Tommy kept fucking her pussy and ramming his thumb up her backside. The sensation was too overpowering. Her holes were so tight that even through the condom, Tommy could feel Gwen rubbing herself raw. He could only hold out for a couple more minutes after that, up until he finally said "I'm cumming, I'm cumming!"

Tommy pulled out and ripped off the condom. Gwen got on her knees in front of him, face up and mouth open to eagerly take his shot, all while furiously rubbing her clit in a desperate chase for climax.

"Cum on, Tommy, cum for me! Cover me like the sluts on your porn mags!"

All at once, the both of them cried to the heavens in ecstasy while Tommy unloaded showers of white-hot cum all over her face and the door slammed open.

Lewis Tennyson stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. There was no sound to be heard, except for the uncontrollable panting of Tommy Pine and Gwen Buckner. The both of them were naked, disheveled, and covered in sweat, still holding their respective crotches. The corrections officer was kneeling in front of the death row convict, her face covered in his fresh semen.

Finally, Gwen ventured to say "It's okay, Lou, we're good. We're all great here."

"No, it's not that," said Tennyson. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised you didn't hear when I knocked a couple minutes ago, but uh... the hour's up. Sorry, but it's time."

All three of them traded awkward glances before Gwen hobbled to her feet and went to get her bra back on. Tommy raised his hand. "I'll, uh... I think I might need another shower first."

"That can be arranged," Tennyson assured him.

Gwen wrapped herself back up in her bathrobe. The panties, thoroughly destroyed, were placed in her bathrobe pocket. She hesitated at the doorway, then turned back.

"Did you ever pick your last words?" she asked him. "Any fond farewells to your loved ones, or a big 'fuck you' to everyone who put you here? I've got to hear your last big statement to the world."

Tommy paused for a while, giving it a long contemplative thought.

"Y'know," he finally said, "I think this might've been it."

They traded one last sad, sympathetic smile. Then Gwen walked away, his door closing for one last time behind her.

As bad as the first "Walk of Shame" was, Gwen had to walk back through the same route with her hair frazzled, her makeup smeared, her crotch open to the wind beneath her robe, and her face covered in cum. The inmates redoubled their sexual harrassment, laughing at her like a sick joke. The officers on duty pretended she wasn't there. Even Tennyson could barely stand to look at her.

Gwen was completely numb by the time she and Tennyson went back to that small windowless room. "All right, Gwen, you know the drill."

With slow jerky motions and a thousand-yard stare, Gwen stripped off her robe and her bra, handing them off to Tennyson. He pawed through what was left of her clothes while Gwen stood naked in the corner, her hands behind her head, visibly struggling to hold herself together.

Tennyson came around with the compact flashlight. Gwen went through the motions of open, flip, squat and cough, all mechanical and mindless actions of muscle memory.

Then came "bend over and spread." Gwen didn't respond. "Gwen? Bend over and spread."

Somehow, that was what it took for the dam to break. All the joy and trauma, all the stress and regret and shame and exhaustion finally caught up with her and Gwen broke down crying uncontrollably.

Tennyson hesitated for a long time. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen. Sure, burnout was an everyday occurrence, but it wasn't supposed to happen. Just like love, sex, emotion, and human connection weren't supposed to happen in prison. Such weaknesses can't be allowed to happen in a place where security is everything. They can't be allowed by corrections officers and prison staff, who are supposed to be incorruptible. And they certainly aren't granted to the inmates, who have no use for human connection because they're not even supposed to be human.

So much of what happened that day was never supposed to happen. And sometimes, there are some rules that need breaking. So it was that Lewis Tennyson finally kneeled down to Gwen Buckner and let her collapse into his arms. One professional to another, Tennyson gave her a shoulder to cry on until they could finally get through the strip search.

Gwen picked up her belongings from the clerk, leaving instructions to make sure the warden got that sealed envelope. She found a bathroom to pee and wash up and change into her spare clothes, then walked out of Coventry Correctional for what would be the last time.

But she didn't leave quite yet.

Gwen sat in her parked car for much longer than she usually did after work. She couldn't be there for the execution, and she couldn't be there for the protest, but she could sit there watching the protest. Gwen sat there alone in her car, every muscle in her body aching, looking out at the well-fed masses with their signs and their chants. She sat there quietly, stewing in every emotion on the spectrum, many of which she had no name for.

At long last, someone exited the prison. The figure said something to the other protesters, and the entire gathering lit up with candles.

Gwen reached into the cupholder where she'd kept her wedding ring and put it back on her finger. Then she got her iPhone out and called up Leonard's phone. Then came the voicemail beep.

"Hey, it's me." Gwen couldn't stop her voice from shaking. She stopped trying. All she could say was "I'm out. It's done. I'm out."

***

Thanks very much for reading. Happy trails, always.