Women's Prison Fantasies: Part 6

May seem too steamy or sexy for some sensitive souls. 

The more I read what Tia Alexis wrote me, the more I take it seriously. I don't mean to minimize her playfulness, far from it, but this young lady's sincerity rips away my cynicism & makes me want to be a better me. I try to imagine myself in prison at 24 with a 67-year-old pen pal & just can't fathom it. Maybe it only works in a younger woman, older man scenario, where the man's accomplishments somehow juxtapose the woman's youthful energy & fertility. It's a mystery. 

Her interest in me seems genuine, but is it driven by any-port-in-a-storm desperation? I want to help her, but a part of me fears, "Ha ha, silly old man. What were you thinking?" Silly or not, I don't feel old. She wrote that she'd like us to keep writing, if she's got postage. Fair enough. She said she wants me to lick her from her head to her toes, adding her cum to my fascinated face & mine all over her pert petite perfectly postpubescent body. I can create that fantasy right here. 

I'll start at her crown chakra, making a circle there with my tongue. Like a cat preening itself, I work through her thick, luxuriant, dark chocolate hair. oblivious as shampoo, conditioner, & hairspray flavors try to dissuade me from my all-consuming quest to reach the bottom of this remarkably amazing natural wonder. Ahead I espy a forest glade, where filtered light graces a face that Aphrodite herself would envy. I lightly trace its contours with just the tip of my tongue, careful not to mar its perfection with my slobber. It skips across her bright broad forehead, tickles her temples reverently, circles her soulful eyes as she shyly closes them, skis down the bridge of her nose, where a kiss is planted on its very tip, more circling of cheeks & chin, before an irresistible smile lures me to slake my thirst at the oasis of her honeyed lips. There I rest my camels, shaded from the scorching desert glare until a cool breeze signals nearly time to resume my southward trek. Just beyond the edge of the woods are her wishing ears, where I whisper my most ardent desires & leave offerings of kisses & caresses up & down the silken road of her neck. At first sight of evening star Venus, I cross the gap to her rolling shoulders, kissing & licking my way down her arms, past her elbows, nuzzling her wrists, to her delicate hands, twin magicians who conjure up her powerful orgasms. I pay my respects, lick her palms, & suck on each digit in serene supplication. Backtracking up her arms, I find her throat, temporary abode of my lingam, when not occupying her other orifices or in arid exile from them. Due south of her throat lies Wonder Woman land, her magnificent Twin Peaks, Abs of the Great Abyss, & Verdant Valley beyond, home of shrines to Our Lady of Perpetual Virginity. This sacred territory is taboo for all but the most daring, creative, generous, & loving explorers. I am in utter awe just to be here. My licks & kisses proceed in earnest, over her collarbone & ribs, get mired in enigmatic soft firmness of her exquisite breasts, dally at her milk well spigots, where I return to infancy & play with my favorite food source. From here the Promised Land is so nearly within reach. My lips & tongue dance across her toned abs, navel, & belly, then plunge into her crevice of nectar, engaging all of my senses in rapturous joy. I have found my home. I make sure every millimeter of her sacred organ gets a kiss, while my tongue probes as deeply as Nature will allow. At that moment, I realize I have paid homage to only one side of my idol. Rising to step behind her, I gather her long hair between my thumb & middle finger, then lift it to reveal the back of her neck & top of her spine. Rapidly licking & kissing, I slalom down her back, taking detours to also forgotten ticklish armpits, slow down at her hips, & gaze in wide wonder at her solitaire, captain's chair, Camembert, devilishly distracting derrière. Maybe she's right & I'm not man enough for this 5 star woman. What if I can't handle her scalding heat? This 'ice' may be too hot to pawn. I've come this far so there's no turning back now. I shut my eyelids to keep my eyes from melting & follow my tongue down her ass crack to her cocoa butter creamy rectal sphincter. My tongue dances around its puckered rim, then wiggles its way inside. Some chili peppers I've grown were mighty hot, especially habaneros, but this girl is off the charts. How can I not love her, heart, body, mind, & soul? For a quicker licker tour wrap-up, I nibbled & licked my way down & back up each of her alabaster thighs, paying special attention to the backs of her knees, ankles, & feet. All 10 of her little piggies were sucked clean individually on their way to the market.

Aiyana's new Web TV reality show drew lots of attention when it debuted. A blend of The Dating Game, America's Got Talent, What's My Line?, & You Bet Your Life, it features hunks vying to impress Aiyana. The winner gets to be her boy toy until the next show. She grills them on etiquette, creativity, humor, talent, reaction time, & package factors about their male appendage. 

During the premiere, a fiasco ensued when contestants argued about how to measure their Johnsons. Guy #1 was short but as big around as her ankle & felt girth size was most important. Guy #2 had a huge nut sack & felt measurement should start from his anus. Guy #3 was uncircumcised & wanted to count his skin flap extension. Guy #4 walked off the set disgusted. Guy #5 was disqualified for using performance-enhancing drugs (Viagra). Guy #6 felt his weird corkscrew-shaped screwdriver deserved extra points. Guy #7 curved up like a bow & felt height was critical. Guy #8 'Footlong' Ferd was entirely too retarded to compete. Guy #9 was transgender so she nixed him/her/it. Guy #10 was boringly normal amid this collection of circus freaks. The remaining 6 got carefully inspected by Aiyana, including her all crucial mouth test for true size. 

In a sense, each of them were knuckle-dragging Neanderthals, waving their dicks around in a grunting, farting, pissing contest. Aiyana solved her dilemma by picking Guy #4, but chat room buzz was decidedly negative. It turned out that he was impotent & failed to score in the bedroom so Guy #10 got the call instead after the show. He was a much more skilled swordsman & pussy eater than Aiyana expected. In fact, she found it difficult to consider dropping him next time & planned to continue to see him on the sly. Her producer needed to provide a segue. Some changes definitely needed to be made before the 2nd show. 

Godiva had nothing on Lady Amber, so to speak, except her knee-length, lady-parts-shrouding mane. That sidesaddle wench could barely ride, while Amber loved the wind in her golden locks at full bareback gallop, reins gripped tightly in her fists, a powerful appaloosa stallion between her thighs, & its backbone pounding her bare pudenda to pudding. Amber was much more of an Amazonian warrior & loved to flaunt her all-natural naked flanks to the world. Pity the fools who couldn't handle it. 

Her first sign of him was his ride's dust devil along the horizon, a smoke signal from the Great Spirit. Soon they came into view, riding the wind like a storm cloud. In full Cree war bonnet & nothing else, he chased her down, leapt from his horse to hers, & deftly tackled her to the ground, bearing the brunt of impact with his muscular physique. Wasting no time in foreplay, he fiercely pierced her sodden labia with his turgid, rigid lance. 

Witnessing the rape of his mistress, her appaloosa went into rut & mounted the Cree's mare, a gold-sheened Akhal-Teke. Both males in mating furor drove home their scalding semen, while their females secretly wished for their passion to last. With his final drop spent, the young brave gallantly offered Amber a boost with a goose back onto her stallion, then thundered off on his soon-to-be-pregnant mare. 

11 years have passed, since "Rosella [Barbie] and Antonio, wave goodbye to everyone as they set sail on a honeymoon voyage with Sagi, Azul, Tika and Tallulah in tow." Antonio's whereabouts are anyone's guess, while Barbie is now in the United States Federal Witness Protection Program, Honolulu Jurisdiction, but can't remember what her new name is & keeps using Barbie to the consternation of the constables responsible for her safety. 

Her job downtown at the Customs House, stamping approvals of inspected imports, didn't pay well & was boring as hell so after work she took the A Express bus & moonlighted a few hours as Madame Pele Barbie at Club Femme Nu. On good days she'd net $5C. That's where she met Jayge one Monday night. He lived in the neighborhood, knew all the girls, & carried himself well. When he asked if she'd mind getting a bite at nearby 24hr. Wailana Coffee House in Waikīkī after work, she replied, "Why not?" 

Jayge had the Club House Triple Decker with Potato Salad & Iced Tea, while Princess Barbie ordered a Princess Tuna Melt, Barbie Salad, & Mimosa. "When did you get to town?" he wanted to know. "Oh, I've been here a while," she answered vaguely. "Live here or countryside?", his questions came staccato. "I'm in the country," she lied. "Windward or Leeward?" his sharp eyes gleamed. "What's that?" she responded bewildered. "Let's start over, this time truthfully." he suggested. 

Against protocol, Barbie told him all that led to her new identity, how she got here, & where she really lived. Jayge nodded, recognizing facts from her body language. They chatted a while, more relaxed now, finished their meals, paid, & left. He drove her to his place in Pawa'a where they spent all night together playing Volcano Goddess Princess Barbie After Dark. By morning, molten lava was spewed everywhere so Jayge brought Princess Barbie home to get ready for another day in paradise. 

With all of the gorgeous young women in American prisons nowadays, it was only a matter of time before someone dreamt up a healthy competition among them, like Olympics or beauty pageants so why not combine them? Instead of fake questions about what contestants would do in hypothetical situations & ball gown segments that put guys to sleep, have women's prison sporting event TV expos featuring colorful Spandex outfits, girl-on-girl action, & plenty of worthwhile cash & education prizes. 

For every good idea, there's always the risk someone will exploit it for personal gain. Twitter bitch Donald Trump declared he would host the first nationals at Mar-a-Lago. Teams from around the country rode in prison buses to Palm Beach. Upon arrival, the women shook off their leg cramps, scoped out the venue, & eyed the competition. Team captain for Ten Pen's elite was, of course, Tia Alexis. She huddled with her all stars for a pep talk, got their minds off shock, awe, & fear, & focused them on light pre-event training. 

Once all the groups were accounted for, no one was surprised as the emcee made his rounds to chat them up, surrounded by an SS phalanx. By chance, he waddled up to Nashville's 9 & prattled on condescendingly about freedom, values, & American might. He then reached out and groped Tia Alexis. Not missing a beat, she returned the gesture by swiftly grabbing his nuts, squeezing hard enough to make any man cry out for his mommy, & adding with class, "Pleasure's all mine, Mr. President!" 

Disqualified from the games, due to being locked up again, didn't stop her nearly-unanimous election for Miss Congeniality. Popular outrage forced Trump to issue Tia Alexis a special Presidential pardon & blatantly insincere public apology from his hospital bed, while the Trump family jewels slowly mended from her heroically patriotic reaction. She was now free. 

She knew by his eyes that he was the One. His control & trust, consistency & discipline, experience & commitment, stamina & kindness, intelligence & love, she sensed it all there in his eyes. Going past pain & humiliation, would bring her high-powered orgasms she couldn't reach with ordinary sex. When she first visited his dungeon, Jamie saw it was well-stocked with ropes, whips, chains, paddles, ball gags, nipple clips, breast & frog leg binding, & equipment for a wide variety of special positions, as well as hole stretchers. Her orientation involved quizzing her on her limits & goals, testing her flexibility, & trying out some of the equipment to give her a feel for it. The main play they did that night involved binding her hands & feet so she bent over a bench with her ass in the air, legs spread to reveal her treasures, & her tender flesh vulnerable to whips, rape, & sodomy, while he told her how beautiful she is & how much he'll love her. He also tied her wrists to her ankles & placed her in a kind of shoulder stand where only her head was flat on the floor looking up. He sat behind her on the couch with full unfettered access to her bottom which was pointed at the ceiling. Inserting 2 fingers at a time into each orifice, he spread them open & carefully examined them both. He then took the paddle & lightly spanked her pudenda repeatedly with it, asking her what she wanted. The correct answer was to be pile-driven. When she got that, accompanied by "Please, Sir," he slowly pressed his cock down, first into her pussy, later into her ass. With that, Jamie was initiated as her Master's new BDSM D/s sub.