NB-the protagonist is uneducated and writes in dialect
GOLDIE PART 3: THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN PENIS
Dear Reader, if you took the time to read Parts 1 & 2 you know what I've been up against. You know I have been convicted of a murder I did not do, I am innocent. Let me continue with my story, hoping it will prove I am a good guy.
Goldie Part 3 - Prison Life, Solitude, a Family's Sexual Affair
I'm here alone in my prison cell in the Polunsky Unit in Livingston, Texas. My executions will take place in Huntsville, Texas, as all of them kill'ins do.That's one ride I'm not looking forward to.
On death row, we don't have cellmates. We are housed separately. There ain't no shoelaces or belts allowed here as the warden is afraid we might cheat the executioner. We could easily hang ourselves with the sheets or even a de-threaded pillowcase. Maybe the Warden wants us to be creative if'n we attempt to commit suicide. Shit, it would be easy to slit your throat with one of the loose sharp bed springs if you'd wanna. I have no intention of taking the easy way out. I'm here till they shoot the shit into me. Texas uses lethal injections—which don't always work, but in the end, they will get you just the same.
I spent over a year in the general population while awaiting my brief trial. My lawyer was a nice liberal woman but totally useless. She thought Hilary would get me free. Ha, after a dozen letters to the Clin-tone I got not one answer. Maybe she was busy chasing her hubby with a rolling pin?
When we were alone, my 'pubic defender,' Miss Kronsky, would cry, then dry her eyes, blow her nose and very kindly give me a quick hand job under the table. If the guards put us in the closed room and left us alone, she'd crawl under the table and blow me. She was a sweet woman who brightened my day and was fascinated by my golden cock. I'm a think'n she'd make a better whore than a lawyer. There ain't nothin' wrong with whore'n. My Mama used to do a bit of that to put food on the table for us youngins.
Miss Kronsky tried to do a good job lawyering, but she was just out of school. As the prosecutor said, she just wasn't up to proving my case. I always thought you had to be proven guilty in America, if you were innocent you would be vindicated. What I learned was even the innocent will be butt fucked. The public thinks the real punishment of being incarcerated means you don't get to have sex. But believe me, more fucking and cock sucking goes on in jail than in any of the bedrooms outside a here.
I remember when we were housed in the general population during my trial. We was four to a cell. The two black guys would be jerking off several times a day, that is until by accident they stuck a gay tranny Mexican dude in with us. She seemed nice enough but was too stupid or unprepared. Instead of telling the prison authorities that she was a gay tranny and being transferred to the gay section of the prison, she tried to pass as straight. Of course, Willie and Leroy figured her out pretty quick and took advantage of the situation. By the end of the week she got transferred out with her ass hole kinda enlarged.
Some young long-haired kid named Jonah took her place. They nicknamed him Joan and he didn't fare much better. I guess he got used to being raped and finally, he stopped resisting. Yep, you gotta adapt and survive. Maybe when they said they'd knock out his teeth so he could give smoother blow jobs, he got the message. I'm happy to say he was still smill'en when my trial came to an end. By then, Willie and Leroy started selling his ass to other inmates and some of the guards as well. Capitalism seems to flourish in prison.
I wanted to complain about my cellmates sexually predatory behavior, but you don't play hero in here unless you want to wake up with a shiv (made out of a sharpened spoon) in your gut while you are bleeding to death. In prison you just keep your mouth shut, unless someone bigger than you stuffs his cock in it.
When the jury found me guilty I was moved from the general population and placed here on death row. It's basically solitary confinement, although you can talk to the prisoner in the cell next door or see him with a mirror, if you want to. Most of these guys are crazy so it's best to keep to yourself. Once a week the guards let you go out into a narrow cement space where you can walk around but it smells of piss so you can't do exercises..
The high point of the week for me was not the exercise yard but the hour I get to visit once a week with the prison shrink. She was a woman about fifty years old, I guess. The shrink, Dr. Zelnick, looks like someone's grandma, but I guess the testosterone in the air gets to her as well. The shrink made it clear from day one that she believed me when I said I was innocent. She says she will help me if she can. But every good deed turns out to be quid pro quo and I have to fuck her on every other visit, right there on her desk.
Dr. Zelnick just pulls her panties to the side and I just gotta roll on in. She's not much for oral when it comes to blowjobs, but she insists on saliva lube, the natural way she says. Maybe she thinks my tongue came from Whole Foods or some other yuppie place. I've got to bend over and lick her pussy till it's wet enough to take the old golden penis straight up the old 'pussy tat' as she calls it.
The Doc said she was going to write up my golden cock for the medical journal. She has spent hours examining it and knows it better from head to stern than I do, even the bottom of it that I can't even see unless I bend it up against my belly or hold it over a mirror. Zelnick said she has never seen another golden cock like mine. She has examined it and taken lots of photos, including its entrance and exit from her pussy. I don't know what medical journal the photos are going to be in, but I sure am waiting to read that article.
Yeah, there is a bit of a faint urine smell on Doc Zelnicks pussy cheeks but we don't have shower stalls in the shrink's office. What we do have is a locked door to avoid prying guards, although I'm pretty sure they can smell what goes on when they come in at the end to shackle you for the long walk back to death row. Beggars can't be choosey and fucking grandma is better than fucking some guy's dirty ass. She says fucking is a form of therapy that helps the nerves relax. I guess it's part of the normal treatment she is supposed to provide. I go along with that, I call it "my fucking therapy," but I don't mention it to no one.
Anyway, you must be bored with these prison stories. Let me get on to what happened after I got fired from my security job at Joy Garden after some no good managed to roll that old safe out the door. I figure it had to be two guys but it turns out they got these special safe dollys that can jack up the safe and away they go. Who knows who the thief or thieves were?
I was sitting in Mario's Pizza joint late one night, over on Main Street, my red motorbike parked outside. I knew Mario's daughter years back from high school and she was working in the kitchen, but the night was slow and it was near two o'clock in the morning, the quitting hour. Margarita came out of the kitchen, her hands all caked with pizza dough and her forearms slick with olive oil to say hello.
I always called her Marg and she was unusual for an Italian. Instead of dark hair she had red curly hair, full lips like a black person and a big cheeky face covered with freckles. She was tall for a woman, probably five foot seven. But like most Italians, she had a full set of knockers. Them tits were like a Playboy Bunny, real full look'n like they was ready to take off, no sag. When Marg saw me sitting at the bar drinking a lonely beer, she came out and leaned right on the bar giving me a gander at her cleavage as she leaned forward and started right in talking,
"So how's it hanging Goldie?"
"Same as always Marg."
"Where you working man?"
"I just got fired from the Joy Garden where I was acting as security, but someone hoisted the safe I was supposed to be watching."
"How'd that happen?"
"I could tell you Marg, but you don't wanna know. Anyway, I'm out of work and I'm afraid the repo man is gonna come and take back my bike."
"Oh yeah, is that you cycle parked outside?"
"Yeah, I always wanted a red one."
"Way cool dude!"
"I know."
"Listen, Goldie, the Mex kid who worked here washing dishes and doing clean-up, left to join the army. You could have his job if you wanted?
"Hey, thanks, that sounds really good, like I could really do that?"
