I remember hearing when I was younger the phrase, “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.” I really should have listened to the people that passed along those words of wisdom to me. I’m only in my first month of incarceration, but the agony of prison life has already gotten to me. This prison hasn’t even been set up with television and cable. All my days are spent idling away the time, sitting in my cellblock staring at the concrete walls, waiting for the few moments when I can escape from this chamber to eat or shower. Showers usually turn out to the best time of the day because that’s when I can check out the well-built bad boys of prison. Unfortunately they are not very violent. I’m in a “Club Fed” minimum-security prison reserved for white collar thieves, so they are not very threatening at all, to my disappointment.

I’m probably the most vicious person here, and I’m in for money laundering. Most of these other guys are serving short terms for insider trading. I’m stuck here for five years myself—five years without being able to touch my boyfriend Roy. There isn’t a specific rule here about not having conjugal visits between males, but it is fairly understood. The prison guards don’t particularly like that sort of thing. As a result, I’m stuck with my right hand as a romantic lover. Another setback that I have experienced here in prison is the lack of a cellmate. Usually, people would at least get someone with whom they can mutually masturbate. Not here. For someone like me, the benefits that this prison offers to its cellmates become a detriment.

As I mentioned earlier, the showers are the best retreat for my growing lust. Luckily I have been able to suppress my erections until returning to the cell. Once I get back, however, I let my mind recall the plump cocks hanging lowly from in between the other men’s legs, dangling like long earrings from a lobe. I also imagine a pair of swollen balls in a hairy sack nestled behind a fat cock, filled with the hot man juice I want squirted all over my body.

I can only have it from a distance, however, and never touch it.

I have a good jerk before I go to bed and I’m woken up by a loud sound on the bars of my cell not long afterward. The night guard, Johnny Blazer, is walking from one end of the bars to the other, dragging his nightstick across them and making an excruciatingly annoying noise. I sit up in the bed and stare at him in the dark, wondering what the hell he could possibly want from me.

Johnny has always been a pretty mean prison guard, constantly teasing and harassing the prisoners. Before tonight, he’s never bothered me. I’ve actually really enjoyed his antics—he’s more of the type of person I expected to be in this shit hole, not the pansy-ass executives biding their time before they go out and steal from corporations and the government again. Johnny is a true-blue, roughneck, backwoods kind of guy. And I like it. He’s much more of a criminal than anyone else here, including me.

I’ve also always had a thing for men in uniform, especially guards and cops. Sometimes I wonder if I allowed myself to be imprisoned just to get closer to these hot men. Johnny looks especially striking in his uniform.