My First Year in Prison Ch. 19

Tyler is happily engaged when his life takes a turn. After a couple bad decisions, he ends up in California State's Prison. Surrounded by bad boys, hot guards, and a lot of testosterones, is Tyler going to manage to keep himself out of troubles? (Erotic Drama - sequel to My First Year in College).

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Chapter 19: Death, grief and libido.

Shock.

A lot of things were happening in the following days. Enquiries. Transfers. Fights. The world was spinning around me. People were crying, screaming, breaking down. But I was not there. I had been struck by lightning. Who was still there? Who was dead? Who was sent to maximum security prison?

Who cares?

Journalists were outside of the prison. We could not go out. We could see a therapist. What a fucking joke, especially for me, I knew all the tricks in the book already. Guard Foster was nowhere to be seen but he was alive. Falcon was still there though. Unbelievable! The warden too. More guards had come to keep us under control. We were dangerous wild animals, we needed more containment, more rules, more punishments.

Ryan, Janice, Austin, all of them tried to see me, to contact me. We were in full locked down. I did not mind. I did not want to talk to anyone.

Seven inmates were dead.

Romano. He was the first to go down.

Another one of his goons, the one so quick to turn a piece of glass into a cutter. That did not help him this time. Dead.

Big Pepe was gone too. Apparently, he fought like a bear, he took multiple shots before collapsing. For what?

One of his close allies died too. I cannot remember his name.

An elderly inmate was not shot but got injured while it was pure chaos and never recovered from it.

And Xander. I learned later that he was the last one that Kim shot, he tried to reason him until the very end. Xander did everything he could to stop the blood bath. He succeeded in a way. He was Kim’s last victim.

Once Kim had shot Xander, he turned back the gun to his head and killed himself. It was over.

Ray and Kurtis were at the hospital. At least, that was what we heard; we had no actual news of them. Ray had been shot. Trevor was still here but he was completely mute. I feared for his well-being and mental state. It looked like he could snap too. Or maybe I did not care anymore.

Again, I was not really there. This was not really me. I could not have been involved with something like that. It was something from the news or a movie, not my life.
That happened to others, not to nerdy Tyler Braxton.

My ankle was hurting so bad, I was mostly stuck in my bed. Ralph was bringing me stuff to eat from the cafeteria. How was he holding on? Xander was his best friend before he was mine. How was he not mad at me? I had fucked with Will. The enemy. It had set everything in motion. Ralph was a fucking rock.

Will had been transferred to another prison. Why some of the inmates were being transferred, enquired, and others remained in their cells? I had no idea. I did not want to know. Our prison normally welcomed small drug dealers, first timers in jail, people involved in robbery or meth-heads, most of us had never been involved in an actual shooting before. To some extent, everyone was under severe shock.

Denial.

I could not think about what happened. I could not process it. I was a therapist, I knew what grief was, I knew that I had to confront myself to my feelings. But I was doing everything I could not to think about Xander, even though he was probably in my mind 24/7. The nights were worse than the days. The odour of blood. The noise of the shots. Everything was coming back, no matter how hard I was fighting to push it down.

Every time a clear thought of Xander came into my mind, him getting married, hugging me, lying dead on the floor, it would make me physically hurt. I would crawl to our shared toilets and puked.

I got prescribed anti-depressants. I knew what they were, I wanted to be knocked down. The administration was more than happy to provide them to us. Guards had been attacked. Inmates were dead. They would rather have zombies to handle than inmates with actual feelings.

You might think it was a huge scandal with a large impact in the country, but after a few days, the journalists left as quickly as they had arrived. Convicts were dead. Worthless people. Who cared?

After a few days, I had Ryan over the phone. He was crying. We were approaching Christmas, Mallory was about to give birth but he wanted to be there, with me. He had called a bunch of lawyers, he said I should get out of there, it was too dangerous. I listened. I said that I was fine, I had only a couple more months to go through, the end was near.

I went back to my cell. I had crotches. I was about to think about Xander again and I took more anti-depressants. Was I convincing to Ryan? I mean, I was convincing myself that I could supress the pain away.

I learned to go to a place in my mind where Xander was still with us. I was actually out of the prison, having fun with him and Austin. Everything was good. They were both shirtless, we were playing soccer. That is weird, I never played soccer in my life but in that fantasy, I was. Xander scored a goal and Austin hugged him.

If I focused long enough, I could fully convince myself that Xander was not dead but he was on the top bed above me, just like always. This fantasy was easy to have because Trevor was still sleeping on the mattress on the floor, he had never made the move to use Xander’s bed. Fernando and Ralph were occupying the bunk bed besides me. It could only mean that Xander was still above me too.

Glenn was transported out of the prison a couple of weeks after the events. He had started a hunger strike. Why? I judged him. I thought he was weak. He could not handle what had happened, he had not found the perfect coping mechanism that I was smart enough to put in place. I was fine. I was eating. I was not breaking down.

Daddy Ray came back to the prison. His first day back, he broke down and apologized to everyone. He was losing it, sobbing on the floor. Trevor came out of his long silence to help him out. I looked at the scene with a weird sensation. Maybe something had really happened.

I came back to my cell and I puked again. I had lost some weight. Maybe I was not fine after-all. Where the hell was Kurtis?

Anger.

Foster quit. He never came back to prison. He had brought his firearm in. He had let Kim use it. And now, like a coward, he was gone.

Glenn was gone too. What good was a hunger strike doing? Stupid reaction. Will it bring them all to life? Would we even want that? Romano was better dead than alive if you want my opinion.

I was mad. Ralph was too, but him, he could let go off his anger. He was throwing himself in the gym. He spent hours and hours there, getting even bigger than he already was. Fernando was smoking outside. And I was stuck with Trevor in our cell most of the time. My fucking ankle would not heal. Trevor was crying like a little child. He was worse than his dad.

“Would you fucking stop crying?” I said to Trevor the night before Christmas Eve.
“I’m sorry.” He replied, looking at me with his puppy eyes.

I thought about it all for a long time and I had made my decision. Trevor was responsible for what had happened.

“You really needed to take these drugs, eh? I hope you’re happy with what you did.” I told him, coldly.

His face became white. It was so unfair for me to say that. He was not responsible for the shooting. Or maybe he was. We all were. He stopped crying though. But he left his mattress on the floor and took Xander’s bed instead.

I was proposed a couple more times to see the shrink. Ironic when you know how good of a therapist, I was…

The day before Christmas, on the 24th, families had been allowed back in the prison. Ryan and Austin came together. I was awful with them. I blamed them for not doing enough to get me out of there, (after I had told them not to do anything or rock the boat a few days before!), I blamed them for not understanding what I was going through, I blamed them for being free. They took my anger in and they did not let go of me.

I will be eternally grateful for them.

They had seen me at my worse and they stood there, by my side. Ryan took me in his arms for a long time and I cried, maybe for 20 minutes straight. Austin was caressing my back at the same time. Merry Christmas!

Bargaining.

I know this must be tough to read. It is tough to write too. It is very challenging to describe the way I felt at the time. In a sense, I do not see the point of writing pages and pages on this trauma but I do not want to sugar coat it either. I mean, I am already softening it, in a way. I tell this story about mourning as if it was a quick process, going through one phase to another, but it was not.

It was a long and tedious process, with a lot of back and forth, and it was happening in the worst possible conditions. I am not even sure I am done with it today, years later.

But there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Kurtis came back. After three weeks at the hospital. One afternoon, I was furiously writing incoherent stuff on a pad, my anger was more and more focused towards the prison’s system and I was drafting inconsistent pleadings against the administration. The warden Deen had kept his fucking job. I thought that if I could tear down the system, then maybe, just maybe Xander would not have died for nothing. I turned around, and Kurtis was there, smiling faintly. He looked ok.

He was my saviour. Not only because he literally saved me from the bullets, but because he gave me back my sanity during this grieving period. He offered me a safe place in this prison. A small miracle.

We did not talk much. I realized that maybe Kurtis too had been less talkative since his little sister had died, because since the shooting, I had way less things to say. Everything seemed futile, pointless.

We spent all of our time together, we did not kiss, at least not at the beginning, but we cuddled. In front of the guards, the inmates. Once he was back in prison, I fell into his arms and I did not let go. He needed me too. He was often caressing and smelling my hair. From this point on, we were each other’s safe place.

I told him about my plan to get the prison down, he said that it would not bring Xander back to life, I did not reply but lay my head on his bare chest. Sometimes, I was playing with the hair of his treasure’s trail.

Kurtis reminded me that I was set to go out soon and that I could not lose my energy trying to fight those battles. I just needed to get the hell out of here. But out of prison meant out of his arms and it was the only place where I felt ok…

Guilt.

One month after the shooting, my legs were feeling better. The prison was back to a semi normal rhythm, new inmates had replaced those who were gone. Falcon was making himself discreet. The warden was no longer asking me favours. We were more closely monitored.

It was time for me to face my true feelings.

Obviously, the most present one was guilt. I felt responsible. I was a therapist. I had seen how distraught Kim was. I knew he was slowly but surely sinking into darkness. I did nothing. I was at the start of the chain of events, fucking with Will, not fighting him over the drugs he was bringing to prison, which ineluctably led to Ray’s losing his mind and to the shooting. If I had not been there, none of this would have happened. Xander and Mindy would be a married couple.

I apologized to Trevor first. He was 18 and I was soon to be 29 at that point. He was a kid, I was not. The things I had told him were unfair and frankly disgusting. I hoped he would be ok out of there. He said he wanted to show a good example for his little brother. Trevor was so much more alike his father than he realized.

I apologized to Austin and to Ryan next. I told them how grateful I was to have them in my life, how sorry I was for everything I had put them through. I told them that I loved them both so much.

I went to see the damn prison shrink. He told me the guilt I was feeling was a weight, a useless weight. I did not hold the gun. I did not bring drugs into the prison. I was not responsible for taking care of Kim’s mental health.

The prison was.

I went back to my drafting and I started to write more consistent stuff about all the times the prison system had failed us.

Depression.

While I was finally processing the events, the severity of what had happened hit me in the face once again, as if it had just happened. That was when the depression started. I knew it was depression, I also knew it was a normal and even necessary stage of grief but I could not do anything about it.

I did not even try to take anti-depressants that time. I knew that I had to acknowledge what had happened. I needed to feel it. But feeling it meant that I was stuck in my bed, not physically this time, but mentally, I could no longer move.

It was Kurtis who was coming in my bunk bed now, and feeding me. The others inmates were worried for me. While everyone had seemingly returned to a more normal life (as normal as life can be in prison), I was burying myself deeper in a hole. Except that I was not. I just needed to feel what I was feeling.

It was in that strange state that Kurtis and I made love for the first time.

We were alone in my cell. It was the middle of the afternoon. He was holding me, as he always was, our legs were tangled together on the very small bed. And suddenly, I felt something that I had not felt in more than a month. My dick getting hard.

MY LIBIDO WAS FREAKING BACK!

I turned around to face Kurtis, he was mindlessly caressing me, he seemed lost in his thoughts. I kissed him. For the first time since we shared that kiss in the laundry room months prior. Our lips met, then our tongues, and at the same time, I felt his dick getting hard against my thighs.

“You’re sure you want that?” He whispered, his hand in my hair.

“I’m sure, Kurtis. I only want that.”

We kissed passionately. I felt our two bodies heating, maybe healing, one other. It became more intense; his tongue would come out of my mouth to run on my neck. When Kurtis got tired of my neck, he took off my undershirt so he could slide down towards my shoulder, and lowers, to lick my nipples.

“Mmmmm.” I moaned.

He spat on my nipples. He had a grin on his face. I had not felt this good in months.
I was caressing his back at the same time. I licked his neck too. His teddy bear tattoo. I removed his tank top and I kissed the little scars on his shoulders, hoping I could fix them with my lips. We kissed full mouth again, our chests firmly glued together.

The other inmates and the guards had gotten used to see us attached at the hip since Kurtis had gotten back from the hospital. Nobody dared to say anything, or maybe nobody cared. But this was something else, if we were caught now, kissing, caressing, humping each other, we could get in real trouble. But his lips were my cure, his biceps were my medicine, his body was my salvation.

We made out like this for a good ten minutes before we took off our pants. We were both hard as fucking rocks. Believe it or not, I had not jerked off since the mass-shooting, more than a month without touching myself, a personal record since my teenage years! It was not difficult to do though, nothing would get me hard, but now, it was reliving again. My dick was throbbing again. Why at that instant? I did not know, nor care.

The bed was so tight, we really had to be glued to each other not to fall but he was holding me tight, while giving me a hand job threw my boxer briefs.

“This feels so good.” I whispered in his ear.

I had one of my hands on his ass, I had slipped it through the fabric of his boxer briefs. I grabbed his right ass cheek. He grabbed mine, his other hand had found his way to my dick, inside of my underwear. He was now stroking it.

“So fucking good.” He said in an echo.

He moved his hands from my underwear to grab my hair and kissed me again. I felt his spit running down my chin. We were both grunting like animals. We were rubbing our cocks. I did not want to cum now but I could already feel my dick throbbing and precumming. I took off his underwear. Being both in that small bed was getting complicated. I got out and he looked at me with the most adorable confused eyes.

“Don’t go.” He mumbled.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I knelt down at the bed and I grabbed his cock to fully stroke it.

“Fuck…” He moaned.

“You like it?”

“Kiss it.” He ordered.

I smiled at him. Damn, his beautiful eyes, they were a shade of blue in the summer but in the winter, they were greyer. I got closer to his dick. I had been wanting it for nine months. The contact with my lips sent heatwaves in my whole body.

I kissed his dickhead as if I was kissing his mouth, then I used my tongue, bathing it with my spit. I wanted to make this last. Before taking it fully in my mouth – well, if only I could, it was so fucking big… and thick, -, my tongue licked it on the side, from the head to his balls, I went through every inch.

8.6 inches. A dick worth worshipping, worth loving, worth committing too.

I spent some time on his balls, with my hands and with my mouth. I smelled him too. A musky manly scent. I wanted it all. None of this was planned. He was not trimmed and I have rarely seen him that hairy. He had not showered either. To be real, I loved his smell. I kissed and swallowed his balls.

Kurtis was putting his own hand underneath the underwear that I was still wearing. He was trying but not achieving to reach my ass from his position, he was lying on the bed naked and I was taking care of his cock leaning forward. I did not want to let go of that beautiful shaft for one second but I had to, I had to take off my boxer briefs to help him out. He needed to see my ass. I wanted him to take a good look, making him hornier than he already was. That ass was his anyway.

Finally, I spat on his cock and put the dickhead in my mouth. Slowly, I went further, deeper, feeling the taste of his shaft more distinctively each additional inch that I was swallowing. His precum filled my mouth and soon my throat. His cock was so big, I had a mouth full. I loved this sensation.

I kept playing with his balls in my hands. I could hear him moaning, his body was shaking too. I almost choked and I had to let go of that magnificent dick. There was so much precum sliding now. I had not been able to deepthroat it.

“You’re ok, babe?” Kurtis asked.

I kissed him as an answer. He tasted his own precum.

I went back to his dick. I needed more of his meat; I was fucking hungry and disappointed with myself! I made him change position so he was now sitting down, facing me on the bed. I was kneeling between his legs and I started to blow him. I was going back and forth, always pushing myself to go deeper and deeper. I had dealt with monster cocks in the past, I could swallow that one. Kurtis had to stop me from time to time, I knew that he was about to cum.

I looked around while he was trying to calm down, our cell was not locked, anyone could enter. Ralph, Fernando, Trevor, a guard… I went back on Kurtis’ cock, holding on his hairy muscular thighs to have a better balance. I felt it tap against my throat, I gagged, spurting tons of saliva on the base of his cock and balls.

My eyes were crying. I wanted to go even further, swallowed it all. Kurtis wiped the tears of my face. He then caressed my nipples, it gave me a crazy sensation, I thought I was about to burst.

“You’re going to make me cum.” I spoke.

“You’re the one saying that! You realize what you’ve been doing to me!” He replied, semi-laughing, pointing at his wet veiny cock.