Piedmont Penitentiary is an old turn of the century prison nick named "The HOLE" on the outskirts of Philadelphia in the Valley Forge section of Pennsylvania, which was built to hold up to 500 convicted inmates. Today it holds nearly 1500, 3 times it's intended population. Over crowding means there are 2 to 3 men or more per cell, which was originally built to house just one. The plumbing is old and rusted, the walls are crumbly, the foundation is corroded, and morale is low. Inmates and Officers complain of conditions, but more complaints are lost to the board of directors. Politicians that look to line their pockets before updating repairs for inmates, run the board. No one cares if convicted criminals complain about "unfair" living conditions. They were incarcerated for punishment, not comfort. Most tax payers see them as animals that need to be locked up off the streets. They are forgotten and unwanted members of society, -the scary and depraved. Whatever happens to them behind bars is more than likely deserved!
The HOLE/32 REALIZATIONS
Pt-1
Morning.
Muslim brother Abdul awakens after a restless night's sleep, --all night long he dreamed of his missing cellmate Muhammad sleeping in bed with him, his strong masculine arms cradling him as he churned his thick massive black dick around in Abdul's ass. Abdul felt himself getting close to climax in his dream, as Muhammad reached around and gently stroked Abdul's dick to eruption. But before Abdul could climax in reality, the prison buzzer alarmed, signaling inmates to awaken for morning `head count'.
After count, Abdul went to the showers to get an early start on the day, --though it all seemed pointless without Muhammad. He couldn't believe how much he'd wrapped his life around the Muslim leader, --as his cellmate and apprentice, they became quite close before any idea of a sexual relationship formed. Muhammad taught Abdul everything he knew about Islam, about being a man, and accepting responsibility. Without Muhammad, there was an emptiness in his heart, his whole world no longer made sense and nothing else really mattered. It was then that Abdul realized he was deeply and madly in love with his mentor.
The prison cafeteria opened 8am on the nose, inmates who wanted breakfast got in long lines while others who couldn't care less went on about their day. Abdul sat at the table with the rest of the Muslims, but did not partake in any of their conversations. Rashad was making plans and laying schedules for more recruiting rallies, wanting to get to all the new young inmates who had bad experiences with rape and molestation, offering them a safe haven in the Muslim religion.
Abdul knew that was a theme to most Muslim recruiting, as it was what originally got him to join when he first came to Piedmont Penitentiary; the fear of being butt fucked by a long line of hard and horny inmates, had him begging Muhammad to make him a member.
"Brother Abdul!" he heard someone call, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked up the table at all the black Muslim faces staring back at him. He searched each one to see who it was that called him. "Are you with us, my brother? You seem very distant. Is everything okay? Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us?" asked Rashad, sitting in the middle seat (Muhammad's seat).
"uh..., no." answered Abdul, stirring his grits.
"Come on, brother Abdul..." chuckled Rashad, not letting it go. "...surely there's something on your mind by the way you're sitting there playing in your food! Why don't you share it with us? Who knows..., someone else at the table might benefit from your troubles!"
Abdul blushed with embarrassment, --surely admitting that he missed his cellmate and lover's touch at night wouldn't help anyone at this table! He knew Rashad was batting him, using him to show his power and strength to the other Muslims. If Muhammad's apprentice accepted Rashad as the new leader, then surely the rest of the doubters could as well.
"I'm just sitting here wondering..." started Abdul, catching the ear of every man at the table. "...how we can just sit around here, planning our day as if nothing is different, while Muhammad goes missing?"
No one said anything, as everyone looked around questionably, turning to Rashad and the council for answers.
"I thought we already HAD this conversation, Abdul...?" said Rashad, obviously unwilling to discuss Muhammad in front of the other Muslim members.
"I just find it strange that an organization that prides its practices on `faith and unity as a united front', won't go the extra step of simply inquiring what happened to one of its most prominent members!" added Abdul, causing more than a few council faces to frown. "Muhammad was there for each and every one of us! He single handedly recruited most of the men at this table! How could you just turn your backs on him, and act as if he never existed? As if his disappearance means absolutely nothing?!!"
"Muhammad was very instrumental in helping recruit a lot of us here, --yes! But he IS NOT our religion, nor our god!" argued Shaheim (a man convicted of killing his girlfriend and her interfering mother), rising his tone to over take Abdul's. "He made his bed when he over stepped the council's decision to pursue chasing the Warden on this idiotic quest to turn the prison around!"
"That `idiotic quest' as you call it, was to benefit each and every single individual in this prison! Including YOU!!" countered Abdul.
"We WARNED him that he wouldn't have our support! We're not here to cause waves or to enact social and political change! We're an organized religion of men behind bars! Our main goal and purpose is to council one another, and try to make ourselves better men for our families when we return to society!" concluded Shaheim.
Abdul sat silent, as did the rest of the table. It seemed obvious that no one was even interested in finding out if Muhammad was dead or alive.
"Abdul..." started Rashad, taking over the conversation. "...you seem very much against what we're trying to do as men of faith..., perhaps you'd feel better no longer being in association with Islam? Maybe you'd prefer to give up the religion?"
"Are you kicking me out?" asked Abdul, unable to believe his ears.
"No, brother..." smiled Rashad. "...I'm merely offering a suggestion if you're unhappy with the way we run things."
Abdul felt like a knife had just been plunged in his back. He stood up from the table, looking at all the brothers who refused to give him eye contact, --only the council was bold enough to look at him, --smugly, over confident. Abdul said nothing to the suggestion, as he turned and walked away, --leaving the Muslims to mutter amongst themselves.
Pt-2
In the basement confides of Solitary Confinement, the breakfast trays are being pushed down the long quiet hall by Aryan inmate Rick McDoogle (last seen in chap-23, pt-3). Prisoners can hear the rickety cart wheels riding over concrete floors, --they know their breakfast is coming.
Muhammad Shaeed is lying on his cot (still naked after 4 [or is it 5] days), shivering from the constant bombardment of water they hit him with every couple of hours (as ordered by the Warden).
He hears the cart stop in front of his door, then hears the small serving door open inside the larger metal door which keeps him prisoner. A tray is placed on the metal flap that folds inward to hold the tray upright. "Breakfast!" calls Rick, peeking into the darkness to barely makes up Muhammad's nude naked body shivering on a small cot.
"Hey..., you're that Muslim guy Muhammad, ain't you?" whispers Rick, looking around to make sure the guards aren't watching. Muhammad turns, facing the small slit of light shinning in through the serving door.
"Who's that?" he asks, hoping its help.
"My name's Rick! I serve the prisoners down here! I've seen you around..., in the Yard mostly, talking about making changes around here! You're a very ballsy guy!"
Muhammad turned around and sat up in his seat, his body freezing from the cool dampness of the prison's basement.
"Could you..., could you get a message to the top for me?" he asks, taking a chance on this stranger.
"Oh..., I dunno, man..." said Rick doubtful, as he looked around again for guards.
"Please? I..., I may not survive down here!" begged Muhammad, coming close to the door on his knees. He could see Rick's eyes looking back at him through the slit. Muhammad realized he was putting all of his hope into a white man, probably an Aryan.
"What's the message?" asked Rick, looking back.
"I need you to find my cellmate, Abdul..., tell him where I am! Tell him to look through my papers and call my people! Call anyone he can think of to put pressure on the Warden to release me from Confinement!"
"What's in it for me?" asked Rick, sensing Muhammad's urgency.
"I..., I have nothing." said Muhammad, sadly. "They've even stripped me of my clothes!"
"Well..." said Rick, sensing an opportunity. "...maybe we can work something out?"
"Please..." begged Muhammad, his body temperature already in flux.
"Well..., I've always wondered what it'd be like to suck a big black cock!" said Rick, licking his lips. "And I can't think of a better nigger to suck off than the head of the Muslims, --right?" he laughed at his vision. Muhammad couldn't believe his ears, --here he was dying, and all this white man could think of was swinging on his `big black cock'!
"o, okay..., whatever you want." said Muhammad, weakly. He wasn't even sure his dick could get hard, since he'd been here, all he could think about was getting out.
Rick McDoogle waited on his knees outside Muhammad's cell as the black leader stood up, and placed his flaccid dick through the serving door. Rick removed the tray, then took the soft black cock into his hand and started pulling it. It didn't get hard immediately like he hoped, so he leaned forward and place his think pink lips around the head.
Muhammad stood on the other side of the door, his body pressed up against the cold metal as his dick was being suckled by a stranger. His mind had been so filled with thoughts of escape, getting out, injustice, family, friends, and freedom, --that he never had time to think erotic thoughts. Even now as his dick head was being suckled, he couldn't concentrate on anything but the cold. But he knew his survival hinged on this stranger, and the stranger might not help him if Muhammad's dick couldn't get hard.
Muhammad forced himself to think erotic thoughts. He tried thinking of women, of pussy, of sucking a nice firm pair of tits, --but nothing worked. It'd been so long since Muhammad had known a women (14 yrs since his incarceration), that he couldn't even imagine fucking them anymore. Instead, his thoughts turned to his cellmate Abdul. Remembering Abdul's face, his delightful smile, the way he kissed, the softness of his lips, his touch, his taste, his feel, --had Muhammad's dick growing in no time. Rick McDoogle thought it was because of his suckling, but in truth, it was Abdul that got Muhammad's dick to rise.
Rick pulled back once Muhammad's dick got to full mast. He looked at the long hard black shaft sticking out of the metal door, and admired it. Muhammad's dick was at least 9 inches long, dark brown, with the slightest ever upward bend. Rick thought it was one of the prettiest dicks he'd ever seen in his life.
Enthralled, he leaned forward and re-took the hard cock back into his mouth.
Muhammad dreamed of Abdul and him kissing, sucking each other's dicks and making long passionate love at night after `lights out'. Muhammad remembered the first time Abdul allowed him to slide his thick tool up into his asshole, letting Muhammad fuck him for the first time. Muhammad was as gentle as possible, but after 14 yrs without sex, he came as soon as his entire dick was buried in Abdul's butt. Abdul didn't know Muhammad had cum so fast, and was still waiting on his back for Muhammad to start thrusting into him. Muhammad recovered from his silent cum, and continued fucking Abdul straight through a second one. When he finally officially came the second time, Abdul's ass was taking the full length of his dick as he shot another huge load deep into his tight and contracting colon (chap-16, pt-6).
Sex with Abdul afterwards only got better, as Abdul got used to Muhammad's penis, his rectum conforming to the shape of his lover's dick. Muhammad made love to Abdul nightly, sleeping in the same bed as he fucked him regularly. Abdul never complained, just happy to be connected to someone in a prison full of strangers and unknowns. As time went on, Muhammad found himself looking at Abdul differently, --not as less of a man, but more as a spouse rather than companion. Behind closed doors and in the dark of night, they were as much man and wife as any straight couple, --kissing, loving, sharing, compromising. Muhammad had come to love the feel and taste of Abdul's dick in his mouth as well, sucking the younger Muslim off as often as they had sex. He'd even gotten used to swallowing his cum loads, drinking Abdul's manly essence and feeling even more bonded. It was at this precise moment that Muhammad realized he loved Abdul, --completely and unconditionally. The very realization of that fact caused Muhammad's body to warm over with emotion, despite the cold dampness of his cell. He felt his dick starting to throb and pulse as his balls prepared to release their cargo.
Rick McDoogle was enjoying himself, sucking his lips up and down the thick hard shaft before him. He only regretted not being able to deep throat the whole cock, as the metal door and serving flap kept Muhammad from thrusting his entire cock through the opening.
Rick had sucked cock before, in the Aryan block, he is one of the better ones. But he'd never had a chance to service a black man, something he'd always secretly dreamed of doing. He'd see black men in the streets and on film, big strong bodied black men with dark skin and angry looks. They scared him as much as they excited him, but the nature of his upbringing taught him that he was better than them. No self respecting white man would be caught dead fucking with anyone of their race. Rick grew up believing this to be true, but would jack off secretly to his fantasies. Now, fantasy became reality, as his first black cock swelled, then started shooting hot thick nigger-cum all over his lips and throat. He sucked and swallowed every ounce of Muhammad's seed, jacking his own 5 inch hardon as he came all over the metal prison door.
Muhammad felt his legs go weak, as he lost his balance and fell to his ass on the floor. He was panting hard from the strong climax, his thick rubbery dick still oozing remnants of his orgasm. He looked through the serving door, to see the white man licking the last of his load from his lips. Rick quickly zipped his pants and re-placed Muhammad's tray before moving on.
"Hey..., hey!" called Muhammad, looking through the slit. "Do we have a deal? Will you talk to Abdul?
"Yeah, yeah, whatever man!"
Pt-3
40 yr old Romero Rodriguez tried unsuccessfully to explain to his eldest son (26 yr old --Raul), that what he did with his youngest son (David) was for his own good. But unlike Raul's mother (Lynette), Raul wasn't buying it, calling it what it was, "—INCEST!"
Romero didn't want to start a war with his son (knowing his son would lose), but he needed to do something drastic to make Raul realize that he should never (EVER) question his father's leadership.
He watched Raul for several days, picking up his routine as he hung around with his posse of hoods (Kit, Alex, Neko, Pablo, and Carlos [his middle son] ). Romero knew Alex was Raul's main boi (his prison bitch), but what he really wanted to know, was how deep did their relationship went. After close observation, he started seeing little gestures between them, unseen to the common eye. Gestures like; --knees and legs touching for long periods of time while sitting side by side during Yard games and in the prison caff, --glances they thought no one would catch when they were sharing the same naughty thoughts and ideas, --always being within an arm's length of each other at any given time of the day, --always disappearing at the same time, time after time.
Romero knew Raul had made one of the most danger mistakes a man could make in prison life, --he grew attached to someone. Romero realized then and there, to get total and complete control over his son, he had to get to Alex.
Pt-4
34 yr old Davis Wood sat in his prison cell, looking at the empty bed of his former cellmate James Derekson. He couldn't believe in just one act, his friend and cellmate was gone, his life taken by someone in the prison.
Davis came to the cell to find James' blood all over the floor, the cell ransacked by someone. Passerbys witness how James was found bleeding on the floor, stabbed several times by some unknown assailant. Prison guards came and took him to the infirmary, but his internal damage was too severe, and the loss of blood too great. James was pronounced dead shortly thereafter. His belongings were confiscated by guards, to be shipped off to his next of kin along with his body. In the blink of an eye, an entire person could be wiped clean from the Earth, gone as if he never existed. Davis was in a sad place, when a guard suddenly showed up at his prison cell.
"Davis!" he called, shocking the 34 yr old out of his coma. "Ellis's waiting in his office, you're late!"
"I'm...I'm not in the mood today..." said Davis, feeling angry and sick at the loss of his friend.
"I don't give a fuck if you're on your period and having cramps out the asshole! Ellis wants you in his office NOW!" yelled the guard, escorting Davis out of the prison block.
In the Administrative side of the prison where the finance offices are, --Davis is shown into the head man's office. Ellis is behind his desk, checking data sheets and making notes when Davis walks in, looking like someone just killed his best friend.
"Bout time you got here, Davis..." said Ellis, dropping his pen as he pushed himself from behind his desk and undid his pants. "...let's get this done quick, I don't have all fucking day!"
"Sir..." said Davis, clearly in no mood to perform oral sex. "...can I have the day off? My cellmate James Derekson was killed..."
"Day off?" asked Ellis, as if never hearing the term before. "Let's get this straight..., if you don't want this job, I've got 1499 other inmates dying to take your spot! So make up your mind right now if you want it or not!"
Davis knew by the stone cold look on Ellis' face that he was serious. He felt the urge to walk over and beat the shit out of the overweight warden, to remind him who he was on the outside of the prison walls, --but Davis also know such a stunt could land him untold weeks or months in the prison's Solitary ward (if not worse, --the hospital). Meekly, he rounded the desk to where Ellis was sitting with his soft 8 inch dick out, and knelt down before him. Ellis settled back in his seat, spreading his legs to make room for Davis' adult male form, and loosened his tie. Davis picked up Ellis' soft phallus, which quickly hardened to the touch, and took it into his mouth.
"Yeahhhh..., now that's more like it!" sighed Ellis, closing his eyes as he leaned back and allowed his cock to be caressed.
Davis felt violated. It was almost like being raped, having to perform for someone when he wasn't in the mood. He looked up at the Warden, who looked large and smug sitting there behind his desk as if the world couldn't touch him. Davis thought Ellis acted as if he were above everyone else, --as if every man in the prison was beneath him, and there only to serve his needs. He suddenly felt like a slave, as if serving the Master for a few crumbs from the table (crumbs being the perks the "assistants" got; i.e. –free cigarettes, sweets, air conditioning, etc...). Suddenly none of those things seemed worth selling his dignity for. His manhood meant more. Davis was in mid-suck when he pulled his mouth off Ellis' dick, causing the Warden's eyes to open.
"What the fuck's the problem now?" asked Ellis, visibly pissed.
"I can't do this!" said Davis, getting up off his knees. Ellis pushed Davis back down, standing up and towering over the 5 foot 9 inmate like a huge wall, his hard dick flopping back and forth like a pendulum.
"You were hired to perform a job, convict!" insisted the Warden, grabbing Davis by the head. Davis tried to pull back, but was forced into the big man's dick as he roughly shoved it back into Davis' mouth. Ellis gripped Davis tightly about the skill, and began fucking his thick fat cock in and out.
Davis tried biting down on the Warden's meat, but the big man just grunted and fucked deeper. Davis felt the cock force into his throat, punching through the muscles as his throat ballooned like a frog. Ellis ground his meat around in Davis' gullet, cutting off his air supply as the 34 father or 4 fought to breathe.
Ellis loved to force fuck inmates, --it isn't something he gets to partake in often with his busy schedule, but when he does, it's all he can do to contain his excitement.
Davis' struggles only made Ellis more determined to use him. He held the convict's head down on his dick until Davis' started to feel light headed and faint, when Davis stopped struggling, Ellis pulled back his cock, allowing Davis to gulp down some much needed air. But the break was only short lived, as Ellis forced his dick all the way back down into his throat and began face fucking him with a vengeance.
Davis was barely conscious as his mouth and throat was fucked by the Warden. With the fight officially out of him, Ellis had free reign into his throat with very little resistance. He hammered at the inmates' mouth like a power-jack, thrusting through tongue, lips, teeth, and gum. Davis had no choice but to take what the older man gave him. His mouth and throat belonged to the Warden, barring their agreement. Ellis never let up with his zealous fucking, he pounded and pounded until he felt his cock harden thicker, then burst several thick wads of hot potent ball juice directly down into Davis' sore throat and stomach.
Davis groaned when he felt the deluge of semen pour down into his open throat, draining into him like an open active pipe. He felt the warm contents moving through him like a thick clot of molasses. When Ellis was done cumming, he shoved Davis' head off his dick and threw him to the floor like a rag doll. While Davis tried to compose himself as Ellis tucked his cock, zipped his pants, straightened his tie, and re-took his place behind his desk.
"Get out if you're going to quit!" barked Ellis, his dick satisfied and his cum still journeying through Davis' intestines. "If you're gong to stay, take a seat in the waiting room until I call you!" he added without looking up from his paperwork.
Davis climbed to his feet, --his throat feeling bruised and sore. It hurt to swallow as he made his way to the office door, his dick rock hard as he tried unsuccessfully to conceal it in his crotch.
He walked out into the waiting room, surprised to see the Muslim Abdul waiting to see the Warden. He walked awkwardly to the seat next to him, and sat down, --the secretary giving him her usual sideways glance as she typed up one of Ellis' memos. Abdul noticed the stains of slobber and drool all over Davis' chest and shirt, a clear sign of what he and the Warden were up to in his office.
Pt-5
After waiting and waiting all day to see the Warden (without luck), Abdul was finally sent on his way, and asked to try again tomorrow, he'd very busy.' Busy' –thought Abdul, not too busy to call Davis back into his office 2 more times before 5pm for more hot blow jobs. Each time Davis emerged from the office his face was more flush, his clothes more damp, and his throat sorer. Abdul was starting to think the only way he'd be able to see the Warden was if he scheduled a blow job through the secretary.
Defeated and deflated, Abdul walked the corridors of the prison until he happened (unconsciously) upon the prison library. He stopped just outside the entrance, his dick hardening at the very thought of what he used to come there for (Chap-5, pt-3 and chap-7, pt-4). He knew he was duty bound to stay faithful to Muhammad, but without knowing rather Muhammad was alive or dead, he found he needed the company a little more than he did his fidelity.
He ventured into the library as inmates busy themselves reading and looking up books. A very noticeable percentage seemed preoccupied, as if to just be waiting around for no good reason with no books in hand. Abdul knew these inmates were waiting their turns to see Gramps in the back.
Abdul found himself a book (any book), and took a seat at one of the tables. He glanced around the room to see who was waiting and who wasn't. When he saw one inmate come from the back of the library, adjusting his zipper, --he saw another moving quick to take his place.
Surely Gramp's mind-blowing blow jobs had had a good reputation, but Abdul was surprised to see the number of men wandering around waiting for a piece of the old man. He saw some of them adjusting themselves openly, their prison pants barely capable of containing their desperate hardons.
Another man left, only to be replaced by another. Abdul found himself sitting for over an hour, awaiting his turn as Gramps went to town pleasing every man (no matter the race or age) who came his way.
Finally after 90 minutes of waiting, Abdul stood up from his seat, and approached Gramps' famous aisle.
Gramps (a 65 yr old, 200 lbs slightly overweight blkm) was incarcerated into the prison system 30 yrs ago for murdering his wife and kids while high off bad cocaine. He's regretted his actions ever sense, but had come to know nothing else other than prison life.
Abdul approached the wrinkled old man as he sat in one of the library chairs in the very back of the last aisle. Abdul wasn't sure if the old man recognized him or not, not with so many dicks coming in and out of the library since his last appearance. Gramps sat silently, licking the cum off his lips from the last man to use him. He waited for Abdul as he slowly approached, pulling at his zipper to release his raging hardon. He hadn't had any sex since Muhammad left, and after receiving it regularly every night, going a week straight without was practical hell.
Despite his strong feelings for his lover, he pulled his 8 inch light brown dick from his pants, and presented it to the old man. Gramps (whose real name is Copper Jewel) leaned forth, and swallowed the dick from sight, --his talented throat already open and coated with layers of sperm residue. Abdul felt all doubt, guilt, and remorse leave his body as soon as he felt the old man's familiar mouth sink down around his manhood.
Copper was an excellent cock sucker. 30 yrs of dick sucking had perfected his throat muscles into a cock sucking machine. The fact that Copper had no teeth in his mouth at all, made his amazing blow jobs absolutely fantastic. There were inmates who (when freed) went home and violently knocked the teeth out of their wives and girlfriends mouths, just so they could recreate the feel of Gramps' mouth wrapped around their dicks. His blow jobs were legendary, --a poet (who was once an inmate) once described it as "standing on the edge of the world and looking into the eyes of heaven". Gramps never thought much of his blow jobs, it was a skill he perfected over time that seemed to help keep his enemies close and happy. He always figured `if you could help give a man an orgasm, he'll keep you around for the duration, or until his penis falls off', luckily for him, that was never a problem.
Abdul leaned his head back as Copper Jewel's old soft lips worked their way up and down his hard shaft. He certainly felt as if he were on cloud-9 every time he used the old man's mouth. He grabbed onto the bookshelf to steady himself, knowing from experience that he would feel weak in the knees at the moment of glory. Copper bobbed his head back and forth on his dick, generating a lot of spit to make the shaft as slick and smooth as possible. His soft gums grazed the shaft every now and then, but Abdul barely noticed. Copper's old tongue was fat, and covered the entire underside of Abdul's shaft as it slithered back and forth, rubbing the cum-tube and bringing most men to quick climaxes. Abdul was no different, as his shaft already started to throb and pulse with threats of cumming.
Copper sensed the tasty cock was about to blow, and re-doubled his efforts. Abdul was surprised how an old man's age could keep up performing so many blow jobs day after day. His stomach had to be busting at the gut with warm cum by the time he went to bed, only to re-start the process over again the next day.
Abdul's mouth dropped open as he began to pant hard, his chest heaving heavily as his breaths came in short supply. The room went black as it started to spin and swirl. Copper grabbed him by the legs to hold him steady, but Abdul was already falling into the abyss of no return. His dick pulsed with a life of its own as his body started to tremble uncontrollably. The cum burst free from his dick like a rocket launcher, blasting into the space of Copper's mouth and refilling it again and again with a salty supply of thick warm semen.
Copper moaned delightfully as he swallowed the sweet semen, never missing one single spurt as he expertly swallowed while sucking. Abdul shook like a new born calf, his legs growing weaker by the second as he started to stumble backwards. He was caught by brother Rashad, who took the liberty of feeling Abdul up while he was incoherent. By the time Abdul started to catch his breath and come back down to Earth, Copper was sucking the last remnants of sperm from his shaft, while Rashad had his hands up Abdul's shirt, feeling his body torso and pinching his nipples while grinding his hardon into his ass.
Abdul pushed Rashad away while lowering his shirt and tucking his wet dick. Copper licked his lips and waited for the next customer.
"What're YOU doing here?" asked Abdul, pushing past Rashad as he zipped his pants and exited the library as fast as he could.
"I just happened to be in the library looking for a book, and saw you in the back getting it on with that..., CRUSTY OLD MAN!" said Rashad, twisting his face. "Surely you could do better, Abdul."
"I doubt it!" said Abdul, loathing Rashad more by the minute.
"Honestly brother..., if you were so hard-up for company, you could have COME by to see me!" smiled Rashad, confidently.
"I'd rather sell myself to the devil!" responded Abdul.
"Looked as though you had!" laughed Rashad.
Abdul stormed off, not wanting to play his game, --but Rashad followed him. "You can't tell me you didn't enjoy feeling me pressed up behind you!" he said, following closely. "I could feel the way you pushed your ass into my crotch when you felt my dick rubbing against you! YOU know, and so do I!"
"Look..., what do you want from me?" asked Abdul, spinning around unexpectedly.
"I want what Muhammad had..." said Rashad, simply. "I want his power, his respect, his loyal followers, his arrogance, his confidence, and his..., apprentice!" he said, looking Abdul up and down like a statue made of gold.
"You'll NEVER be the man Muhammad was!" said Abdul, the fires burning hot in his eyes.
"WAS is the correct term my brother! Muhammad is the past, --I am the future! Stick with me, and I'll get you everything you could ever want in prison! Money, cell phones, computer, video games, you name it!"
"OH..." laughed Abdul, nervously. "...so you're using your power to sell out? To make deals with the drug dealers and the other lowlife's that run this prison? Is that what you call serving Ali?" questioned Abdul.
"I serve MYSELF before I serve ANYONE ELSE!" snared Rashad through grit teeth. "And if you have ANY sense at all..., you'll jump on this train BEFORE it leaves the station! The chose is yours, --my brutha, chose wisely!!" finished Rashad, leaving Abdul to ponder it over.
______ DOGG