Family Disrupted Pt. 02

The next day, I scheduled a surprise visit to the prison. My real intention was to supervise my wife Samantha and see what could possibly be going down. Between her newly voracious sexual appetite, her admiration for the big black ex-con Tyson who was viciously fucking her friend Alexa, and her shy hiddenness about her time volunteering at the prison, I knew I had to find out the answers for myself.

Luckily, I had the perfect excuse. Recently incarcerated Carl (Alexa's husband) was one of my best friends. It honestly was a shame I hadn't gone to see him yet.

I arrived at the dirty dark prison just after lunch. Everywhere, I saw angry looking men in orange jump suits. They littered the prison yard, either walking suspiciously or lifting weights. They all looked at my fancy new car with something between jealousy and rage.

I signed in with a pretty young receptionist and waited to see my friend Carl.

Carl looked awful. He'd been in prison for weeks, and the usually jovial man I once knew was all scowl. He had big bruises and cuts on his face, and both his arms were crooked, like he had just suffered broken bones.

"Drew, my friend," he said when he saw me.

I asked him what the fuck happened. He told the story like this.

It was the one time a month when his gorgeous wife actually let him fuck her. She usually just read a magazine or filed her nails while he plowed away at her, and he could not have been more excited. She was in the bath getting cleaned up beforehand, and he was laying in bed, naked, with a hard boner ready for her.

That's when the feds came in. Carl kicked and screamed but the burly men just smirked, locked him up, and threw him into the back of the van.

"Which one of us is staying behind to nail that sweet piece of ass in there?" one of them said as they slammed the car door shut with Carl locked inside.

His trial, Carl explained, was like something in a war torn country. The judge took no time before asking the jury for a verdict, and they didn't even leave the room to deliberate.

"I've been here weeks now," Carl said through tears, "And the only thing getting me through all this has been this."

He showed me a picture. It was a tiny photograph of his wife Alexa. She was wearing a tight sweater and her nipples were visible, with just a hint of naval above a hemmed skirt.

"Knowing that my sweet Alexa is out there," Carl said, kissing the photo, "Is all I have."

I didn't know what to tell him. For one, Alexa's outfits had changed significantly since the picture was taken. She now dressed so scandalously that delivery men routinely got a look at her pussy lips when she bent over to pick up packages. Two, there was the matter of Tyson. A big violent black man was fucking her senseless in Carl's house. And he didn't know!

"I admit, the photo gives me more than solace," Carl said, "Sometimes, when I need a reprieve from the terror of my fellow inmates, I offer them it."

Carl explained that for people like him in prison, bigger stronger men came knocking trying to get their rocks off. Luckily, Carl had his photo of Alexa, which he could give to the men to use as masturbation fodder rather than something more severe.

"Sure, I might have to jerk them off to it," Carl said, miming holding a massive cock in his hand and stroking it, "But that's better than getting my asshole rammed."

I couldn't believe how far Carl had fallen.

"Listen," I said, desperately trying to change the subject, "What about Samantha?"

"Your wife?"

"Yes. She's been volunteering here."

"She has? I haven't seen her."

"They say she's... she's a 'care girl.' What does that mean?"

Carl thought for a moment.

"A care girl is one of the volunteers who work in the rec center. They just sit there and change the channel on the TV, put away board games, things like that."

"And you haven't seen her in there?"

"I don't go into the rec center... it's too dangerous. All the men there are the most violent and scary criminals in here."

I gulped. That was who my Samantha was spending time with?

"Though, if that's true," Carl said, "Then, I wouldn't be surprised if your wife was being constantly assaulted."

"What?!"

"I'm just come out and say it Drew--your wife is hot. Gorgeous, even. Those massive knockers. Those sweet lips. That golden glowing skin. I bet every cock in the building is trying to touch her. And with the kind of man who frequents the rec center? Why, she's probably swimming in semen."

I couldn't believe it. My head started to spin. I barely noticed as an attendant came and took Carl away.

"Bathroom," I said, wanting to clear my head.

"Visitors have to use the inmate bathroom," someone said. Before I knew it, someone had led me out into the prisoners' side of the yard and locked the gate.

I was standing out there, all eyes on me. A guard pointed at the far yard.

"You gotta piss? Go there."

I followed his instructions and found myself at the other end of the yard, where a bunch of men lined up with their back towards me. Looking more closely, I could see at their feet was some kind of metal trough. It was one of those long tin bins that was meant to be used as a communal urinal. As everyone pissed, the fluids all combined into a slush that together drained away.

As I stepped up to the trough, ready to at least pretend to piss, I looked down. Where I expected to see yellow urine, I instead saw slimy white fluid. There was ejaculate in the urinal trough!

Immediately, I looked left and saw it. The five convicts to my left all had their cocks out over the urinal and were stroking them. I had never seen cocks like this before. Every man was jet black, like coal, and slick with saliva. The fat cocks were longer than my entire arm.

As I fished out my little penis, I couldn't help but stare at all this raw uncut cock meat.

"Mmmm, she's looking good," one of them said.

"Mighty fine breasts."

"I wanna suck 'em."

"I wanna put my cock on 'em."

"I wanna stuff her fat tits with my cock."

"I wanna cream all over her face."

As these men stroked violently into the urinal below, I finally saw it. If followed their eye level down to a little area below the urinal. There was an underground area, a room, and from the view of the urinal you could see through the window.

And there she was: my Samantha, sitting with her back to the window in a wooden chair. From this high up vantage, we could all see down her blouse, where her two glorious orbs of flesh and cleavage were visible.

These men were stroking their big black cocks to the sight of my wife's breasts.

"I'm nutting!" someone yelled, and a splash of white cum bounced off the tin walls of the urinal and slid away.

"Me too!" someone else said, and the urinal splashed with jizz.

"I'm still going," said a third man, licking his lips, "I'm letting these big balls stay full until she drains them for me."

"You know Carter called dibs on that white bitch."

"Yeah, but Carter shares. Once he fucks her, you know he'll pass her around to us."

I had no idea who this "Carter" was. But their words brought me back to what Tyson had said. That real men shared their women.

"Shit, if it weren't for Carter, I'd have gone into that rec room and blasted the bitch full of cum by now."

"Yeah, and then Carter'd have you strung up by your neck, bleeding out."

"I know, I know. I won't cross Carter."

So who was this Carter who was simultaneously coveting and protecting my wife?

"Shit, what is this white boy doing with his cock out right now?"

Huh? I suddenly found myself at the receiving end of five death stares from the men.

"You staring at our dicks?"

"You wanna suck?"

"Chill," one of them said to the others, "He's not on the inside." He pointed to my visitors badge. "He's a normie."

They all laughed.

"Shit, he's probably just enjoying the show as much as us."

"Yeah, white boy. You staring at those big mommy titties just like us."

"I'm...." I stuttered out of fear, "She's..."

"She's what?"

"My wife," I found myself saying.

"Shit, no way!"

"That hot ass piece of ass is your wife?"

"Why are you not sucking those titties right now?"

"Shit, can I smell your fingers?"

"You come back next time with pics of those juicy jugs, right?"

"I gotta tell Carter about this!"

I walked away from the urinal trough in a daze. The images of those big stroking black cocks was burned into my mind as I got into my car and drove as far away as possible.

--

I was called again and asked to come see Principal Trish.

This was my first visit with her since I saw her avant garde permanence art where dozens of convicts stuffed her face with black cock before ejaculating all over her.

Trish looked pleased when I walked in.

"I have some good news this time Mr. Lokkens," she said, "We can take away some of your son's punishment community service hours."

"That's amazing."

"Yes. The reason for this is because something has come to my attention."

"Yes?"

"Your son is a faggot."

"What?!"

"Yes, I know. I was surprised too."

"What do you mean by that? I thought you said he assured you when he joined the cheerleading squad that he wasn't gay."

"Oh your son isn't gay. The cheerleading squad has reported that they still feel his creepy little eyes drinking them in when they dress in those short skirts for practice."

"Huh?"

"He is definitely attracted to the female form. But you know, he's spent all those hours wiping up the sweat and piss and other fluids of the basketball team... And I just think, yeah, that would turn a little weak boy like your son into a faggot."

"You mean--"

"I can't say specifics. Except that all the basketball team is happily reporting that your faggot son is doing a good job."

I didn't know what to say.

"Anyway, this qualifies him to get credit for being in the faggot club or whatever," the Principal said, pointing at a poster on her wall for the Gay Straight Alliance, "So he might even be able to get a single of hour of sleep and still graduate."

"Good," I thought.

"So," she said, giving me a devilish smile, "What did you think of my show? I saw you in the audience. It looked like you liked it."

"I... did," I said, remembering it vividly.

"Oh, you liked it? It sure did focus on a lot of big black cocks, right? Do you like cocks? Are you a faggot like your son? Because if you are, I can send you to the coach's office right now and he can use your throat to shave a few hours off your son's community service."

"Uhhh... no, I'm sorry. I'm not. I just--"

"Please, calm yourself. You're getting so sweaty!" Trish was giggling to herself.

"I don't normally do that," she said, referring to her performance art, "I'm a poet and usually I write my own work. But that night was all about honoring prison reform and so it only seemed appropriate to perform something that had been written by a prisoner."

"That was... written by a prisoner?"

"Written and directed by a current inmate."

I gulped. I remembered how precisely Trish's costuming had resembled my wife.

"Can I ask... what the name of the author is?"

Trish didn't miss a beat.

"He's a very fine gentleman named Carter Smith," she said.

Fuck. So the same man who was trying to fuck my wife in prison created that scene...

"I met him at the prison," Trish said, "For a conjugal visit. It's good for ladies like me to go and help out those poor men. You know, they don't get a lot of sexual release. Usually, it just gets all pent up inside their big sweaty balls, and it starts to mess with their head. That's why I went to see Carter, because the rumors were that he was the most obsessive, cum-filled predator in the joint. As soon as I got him in my arms, he pinned me to the bed and fucked me like no man ever has. It was amazing, and for him, to get to drain his big beautiful balls... It's too bad it's been so long since I've seen him. I bet his balls are fuller than ever, just desperate to find a sweet pussy to invade. You know?"

I gathered my things and told Trish I had to go.

"One more thing," she said before I could go, "Just about your son being a faggot. The team has requested that he be with them even on away games. So there may be some nights where doesn't come home."

I nodded, and ran out of there as quickly as I could.

--

Sunday arrived, and me and my wife Samantha piled our son into the van to visit Alexa and Tyson's BBQ. As Trish had mentioned, our oldest son had been requested to accompany the basketball team, and so wasn't with us.

When we pulled up, it seemed like Alexa was down another child. Whereas last week, one of their boys was there to greet us while her other son was in the hospital, this week there was no one.

"Go run around," Samantha said to our boy, as we left him to enter the home.

"We're out back!" came a voice, Alexa's. Samantha and I walked out to their yard to see Alexa topless in their hot tub. Her perky pink nipples were hard and floating at the water line. Besides her, Tyson was shirtless, his chest hairy and adorned with a solid gold medallion. Under the water, I imagined, they were both equally nude.

"Oh dear," Samantha said, averting her gaze from her naked friend, "Are we early?"

"Not at all," Tyson said, "Why don't you two join us?"

Meekly, Samantha turned back around and sat at the edge of the tub. She let her feet dangle in, while I stripped to my boxers and joined everyone fully in the water.

"What happened to your kids?" Samantha asked.

"Oh right," Alexa said, "Tyson had a great idea this week."

"Military school," he said.

"Military school?!" Samantha said, aghast, "You just sent your kids away like that?"

"It's good for them," Alexa said.

"Isn't that expensive?" I asked.

"Not at all. Once I spoke to the staff on the phone, they said they would even cover the boys' airfare."

"Oh, is the school that far away?"

"It's in Puloga," Alexa said.

Puloga... that sounded familiar. Wasn't that a country in Africa? Weren't they undergoing an immense civil war being fought with child soldiers?

"Puloga is right for those kids," Tyson said, "None of that pussy American shit."

"The boys had been awfully pussy-like lately," Alexa said, reflecting on her sons.

"They were faggots," Tyson said.

I winced, remembering what Trish had said and where my own kid was now.

"Puloga will be good for them," Tyson said, " They'll come back men."

"If they come back at all!" Alexa shouted. "Oops," she covered her mouth, "Maybe too much champagne."

"It is a war zone over there. Chances are, they might meet some fate."

"I don't mind it," Alexa said, "Gives me more time to be with you." And she leaned forward to get onto Tyson's lap, kissing him deeply in front of Samantha and me.

Splashing around the water with her toes, Samantha nervously spoke up.

"So... how is life this week without kids then?"

"Amazing," Alexa said, "We have so much more energy. And the sex has been even better. It's not like we were really stopping any of our urges before, I mean, Tyson fucked me at the breakfast table every day, but now, I just feel like we're even closer."

"I can finally invite some mates over," Tyson said, "And not worry that they'll trip over some brat."

"Yes, and you said you want me to meet that one friend... what was his name?"

"Maestro," Tyson said, "Yeah, he's got those big dogs. If there were kids around, they'd be chow within a minute."

This image made both Samantha and Alexa giggle like school girls.

"Anyway, what's new with you?" Tyson asked with a shit-eating grin.

"Well, I didn't want to say it last time because I didn't know if Drew would approve," Samantha said nervously, "But I've been volunteering. At the prison."

"Shit, that's good!" Tyson shouted, "You keeping my old buddies happy?"

"I think so!" Samantha said with pride, sticking out her chest with dignity, "I hand out board games and everyone is really friendly. They sit next to me, playing checkers, and tell me stories."

"Yeah yeah, those are some good folks," Tyson said, "You tell 'em about me. Tell them you know me, and they won't fuck around with you."

"Oh, no, that's not necessary. Everyone is already so sweet."

"Yeah Tyson," I said, "I doubt your name carries any weight anyway."

"That shit's not true," Tyson said, "I was top dog in there."

"Oh yeah?" Samantha said, "Really?"

"Fuck yes. I mean, more like number two. But everyone in there knew not to fuck with me."

"You were only number two?" Alexa asked, disappointed that her stud wasn't the literal top prison alpha.

"I was the top dog who wasn't fucking insane," Tyson said, "You had to be crazy to be more dangerous than me. And the number one guy was fucking nuts. Carter Smith, that insane motha fucka!'

For the third time, I heard the name Carter Smith. My entire body froze.

"Now I know you're full of shit," Samantha said, confidently crossing her arms and emphasizing her big breasts, "I see Carter every day. And he's the biggest sweetest puppy dog of them all.

Tyson let out an insane sounding cackle.

"Carter is crazy, man! You don't know what you're saying, white bitch."

He laughed and laughed and laughed.

"Listen here," Tyson said, "Carter is known for being the meanest and roughest fucker in there. He writes to all these bitches on the outside, gets them to fall in love with him because he's so sweet sounding and kind, and eventually, he gets them to come and do a conjugal visit."

Alexa and Samantha both looked confused at the term.

"That's a private prison visit where you get to fuck!" Tyson said.

"Carter would fill up his week with these prison loving sluts and he'd go into that love shack and beat that pussy up!"

Samantha covered her mouth and giggled.

"So what, he's a bit of a 'pimp' I guess. A 'playa.' So what?"

"That ain't the crazy part," Tyson said, "Because while he's fucking these bitches, he's also choking their brains out. Now these crazy sluts love it, they love getting choked as he fucks their brains out right up until the moment they stop breathing!"

"No way," Samantha said, "I don't believe you. No woman loves sex so much that she'd submit to being choked! Nevertheless choked so hard that she actually passes away!"

"Carter is snuffing bitches in those trailers," Tyson said, "He loves it. Never runs out of em. And the prison doesn't care. They got even sicker shit they're planning."

Samantha shook her head in disbelief. "Not my sweet Carter. I can tell, he's a true gentleman."

Tyson laughed. "Just don't go into that trailer with him!"

From a cooler, Tyson grabbed a beer and tossed one to everyone.

"Sweetheart," Samantha said, "I kinda want to ask Alexa and Tyson a private question."

"Huh?" I said.

"Can I ask you to just... go away for a moment?"

"I just got in the hot tub!" I said. I was so comfortable, why should I leave for my wife to say something private to Alexa and Tyson?

"Please, sweetie," she said.

"The bitch said to give her some space," Tyson said, and then, without warning, he pushed my head under the water.

I heard the washed out noises of Samantha's giggles above the water as I struggled against Tyson's massive grip. I screamed out, I couldn't breathe! But all I got was a mouthful of water.

<That works> she likely said, giggling, as she spoke more, too softly for me to make out.

As Tyson held my head under the water, I looked straight ahead and saw that I was eye level with Tyson's big meaty dick. Now, this was not the first big black cock I had seen this week, but I suddenly became nervous with exactly how big it was. The men at the urinal had each been massive: Tyson was on another level. Just staring at its murky-purple head gave me shivers. I believed undoubtedly that he really was the second most powerful man in the prison.