Doug Ellis

In an effort to satisfy the needs of funding bodies, government statistics, the service of justice to broader society and a humane approach to custodial sentencing, a prison service has to sustain a complex juggling act. It remains a most difficult and frustrating conundrum for society and an appearance of progress must be displayed to satisfy those who are asked to pay for the service through taxation and those at the top of the administrative pyramid who are ultimately answerable to them. As with other apparently insoluble social riddles, a new initiative is always required to show, using carefully manipulated statistics, that the utmost effort is being made to improve matters. This initiative fails to meet its objectives and is eventually superseded by the next one.

Dursley, buzzing from his work-out, felt like a million dollars, his torso rippling under his short sleeved uniform shirt, chest high and nipples standing proud and more than a little turned on by what he had so recently witnessed in the gym, was still grinning from ear to ear as he let himself into the security department building and mounted the odd, 19th century stairs which led to the office on the first floor. His bubble was only a little deflated by the news that Singleton was in conference with the governor and the senior probation officer. It could wait.

Bob Kirkland had generated enough respect with his younger colleagues, that his team would emulate his work ethic, keep their heads down and get on with the job, not to mention record what they saw and heard as Dursley breeze through.

Overconfident as he was, Dursley was wary of staff from security, quite rightly, he felt ostracised and so he elected to save his verbal report for the following day and promptly left the building, tight lipped.

His large, black leather hold-all, alway in and out through the main gate but never searched, swinging slightly less jaunty by his side, Dursley passed with a wink through the security cordon at the main gate and walked to his car. The black Mercedes was incongruous among the tatty old vehicles and tiny city runabout cars the prison staff usually ran, Dursley knew well that myopic institutions, pressed for staffing to sustain basic functions, would never notice but it was all these very things running through Bob Kirkland's mind as Dursley left. Sooner or later something or someone would connect. Bob would find a way to rid himself and the prison service of Lee Dursley.

Meanwhile, the nugget of information Dursley delighted in was too incredible to be leaked in simple tittle tattle gossip, there was time to think about how to use it well, meanwhile the cocky bodybuilder needed fuel. He flicked open his phone and dialled the answering service, then headed for the Mall.

Not for the first time, Bob Kirkland brooded on the 'cleft stick' he found himself in. A powerful and dangerous boss who could make Bob's whole family a target if he acted against their unlawful activities and a courier who walked in and out of the prison every working day with illegal substances and the potential for all manner of dangerous situations for staff and inmates alike. He knew he needed a little luck.

Bob had been off duty when Ellis had been summoned to the security chief's office so the matter had been reported to him dutifully by one of the young officers present on the afternoon lock-down when Doug had arrived for that dreadful "interview". Who was in the escort party? None other than Dursley. Who was it that stayed, the sole witness to Singleton's interview? Oh! Dursley! There were no raised voices, no sounds of struggle, the abrupt movement of furniture? The meeting had lasted some 45 minutes, medical staff had arrived, 2 big, uniformed men, the interviewee was then brought out apparently semi-conscious but with no visible signs of abuse nor any dishevelment in the appearance of either the security chief or his minion. So, a cozy chat? Was the prisoner drugged?

So many questions flooded Kirkland's mind. Who is Doug Ellis? What's he in for? Why of all the lifers was Singleton interested?

The routines and pitfalls of working life kicked over his curious enquiry, all that would have to wait. So he quickly copied the brief report of the incident, left the original in the appropriate locker, by the book, he was obliged to but knowing that Singleton would not imagine an incident had been logged on the matter. If his boss did go looking or was tipped off that Kirkland was interested it would certainly be destroyed, so on the way to a cell search Bob paid a brief visit to the gym office with the special copy in a document wallet tucked out of site in his clipboard.

At the gate, a huge officer ducking under the lintel as he emerged escorting Dent, one of the trustees / orderlies a man of comically contrasting proportions, who worked for Harry Bantock. As Kirkland nodded recognition and closed the gate behind them, he noticed that the tiny office at his right smelled of something other than cleaning fluids and the overheated body of Harry himself but without even a shrug Kirkland got on with his brisk business, handed the file to Harry who instinctively took it , read it's brief contents without a word and locked it in his own filing cabinet. Nothing much sunk in about it's content but the name "Ellis, Douglas" and the prisoner number. He was already so freaked, his expression couldn't change, Kirkland could see his old friend was 'under the weather' but he was on his way elsewhere. The less that was said and the less that was seen, the safer they would all sleep.

Kirkland pressed on towards his team conducting cell searches and left Harry with a brief but warm handshake. As he turned with a little too much haste towards the door his heel slipped very slightly on a trace of moisture on the floor, dismissing it as a drop of sweat without really losing his rhythm, he left.

Shocked, panicking, still sweating and totally cummed out, Harry jumped up immediately, grabbed a paper towel and wiped away the smear of Dent's semen that had escaped their hurried recovery from ecstatic and mindless lust, Harry had tried to get his appearance back into some kind of order just as the officer arrived to escort Alun Dent back to his cell. There was no time for cleaning and the smell of their carnal fun was filling the cramped spaces just inside the gym-house gate. Dent had stuffed his truncheon-like meat into his baggy jogging bottoms and the bouncing parcel of genitals could not have escaped the notice of his escort, so bold and wriggling and flagrant were it's movements, not to mention the line of moisture it described as it wiggled around.

Bantock returned to his chair to let the buzzing in his brain and the sweet aching in his empty man-tanks come into some sort of equilibrium where it would be safe to carry out the rest of the day's duties. His eyes were locked wide open, staring into his imagination at what he'd done and trying to see past it into what he should do about it.

Suddenly remembering the file on Ellis and needing a distraction, he unlocked his filing cabinet, took out the file and read it as carefully as his elevated blood pressure and frazzled nerves would allow. What could Singleton have wanted with Ellis? If he'd been a security risk in any way Bob Kirkland would have been onto him. Couldn't be drugs, Ellis is super clean, totally committed to his strength and fitness, no way he'd courier shit for those creeps. Maybe that was it, he refused... No way! There was no sign of a struggle, no abrasions serious bruising or wounding when he was taken to the hospital and if there had been a struggle, even cuffed, Bantock knew that Ellis would have left some damage on the two officers present. Also the report said that he was semi conscious, so had Singleton Drugged him? To what purpose? Information? He really needed to speak to Bob.

Dent, meanwhile, was escorted to the porch of the wing where he would usually reside. The officer escorting suddenly put a headlock on the smaller man and shoved a huge hand like a catcher's mitt down the front of Dent's pants. Grabbed the whole jiggling packet of sexual organs around the base of his cock and pulled hard on the ensemble before releasing just as quickly and clapping the same paw across the startled squawk which Dent had just begun let loose. The towering figure lowered it's head to his ear and whispered "As I suspected, a concealed weapon."

Dent felt himself lifted in the headlock just off the floor. He instinctively reached up to grab the forearm to relieve pressure on his neck, as he gasped he felt a familiar swelling where his lower body weight rested against that of the massive guard, who's monstrous free hand now reached into the back of his pants and through the tangled swamp of black hair thrust a long fat thumb against Dent's puckered arse hole. Dent managed to splutter "It's all yours if you'll put me down somewhere safe." and as he felt his feet back on solid ground the blunt end of that great digit plopped inside Alun's body.

"That's by way of a downpayment, boy." whispered the coarse guard, the sharp, blue stubble on his lower lip scraping Dent's ear, "I'll be collecting the rest when the wing is locked down in a few minutes." his hot breath scalding in the details of his sentence.

Dent was taken to his cell, slightly flushed, ruffled but unhurt. His cellmate, an early morning cleaner in the hospital, grunted and went back to sleep as Alun arrived.

When the cell door opened again a few minutes later, the whole wing was quiet and his gigantic, swarthy escort loomed above him once more. Gesturing to the stairs at the centre of the wing Dent walked ahead down to the entrance level and to a darkened room two doors along from the wing office.

A classroom, where basic skills were taught most days and where sometimes staff briefings would take place as there were a dozen or so chairs here also 3 tables and the wing staff from a shift change could all sit. This afternoon there was only room for two.

Once inside the officer closed and locked the door but didn't switch on the light. There was a pale patch of watery daylight through a tiny window onto the wing from which they'd come and a similar patch through the window panel 6 x 6 inches in the door. No window to the outside world at this level but Dent's eyes quickly became accustomed to the gloom. He knew what he was here for and as long as he did as he was told he would leave pretty much unharmed. He'd been there, done that.

He looked a little fearful, hesitated after being ordered to strip and peeled his sweat shirt, T and joggers slowly and apparently reluctantly, hesitated again as the excited hiss escaped the clenched teeth of his tormentor, then with a stalling hand slipped his underpants down, willing himself not to get a hard on and spoil the illusion, thanking his lucky stars he'd left a manly ration of macho custard for Mr. Bantock not half an hour since.

In the half light, the shimmer of saliva on the guard's lower lip and tiny beads of sweat on the upper, caught Alun's attention as the man reached down and put his hands between Dent's legs and deftly stroked his sweaty arse with his thick middle finger before locating his pucker with his ring finger and tickling the rosy little pout it found there while Dent's exceptionally generous cock and balls lay on the sensitive silky skin of the big man's forearm like a contented cat. Then, with a surprising tenderness and almost a whispered whimper of exquisite pleasure, that large finger slipped into Dent's warm body up to the second knuckle where the thumb of the other hand had already ventured in his first assault by the wing gate. A little gasp escaped Dent's lips and he scowled and shifted his weight very slightly to give the impression of some kind of passive acceptance of the inevitable. Never a sign of attempted resistance or objections.

With his free hand the guard pawed Alun's extraordinary pelt of matted dark hair, covering his tense muscular body. He tangled fingers in the cleft of Dent's hard chest, ruffled the grizzly fore arms and the downy upper arms and shoulders, ran a finger tip along the hedge top effect where the little man terminated the vigorous froth of fur that protruded from any shirt he wore. As the wandering hand finally came to rest on one firm hairy buttock, Dent looked down at the gleaming dribble of premium pre-cum he was leaking onto the fore arm that extended between his legs. He was shaking a little and the inserted ring finger began an expert probing of his tender hole seeking out the magic bulb that never failed to light Alun Dent's fire.

Happily, before that blaze began the giant figure folded himself onto a chair and reeled Dent in towards him like an angler landing a catch. Face to face, a huge hot tongue lashed out at Dent's mouth and strong insistent lips locked onto his own. He clenched his jaw and allowed the guard to maul his lips but when the left hand of the giant clamped once more around his cock and balls and gave a threatening squeeze he parted his teeth and allowed the probing tongue inside his own mouth, fighting down the urge to overwhelm it and therefore clam the right to fuck as well as to be fucked.

Roughly the hand used to penetrate him hauled him up and onto a raised knee as the penetrating kiss continued at the other end. Dent was a hugely powerful fighter for his weight but like a puppet at the hands of a man more than twice his own size. Struggle would have got him nowhere but hospital. Before he really knew what to do Dent was cartwheeled with a grunt, ending with his legs either side of the big man's head and his own head between the big man's legs facing his hot, serge covered crotch, his body weight on his shoulders on the titanic thighs of the powerful seated figure, with his bare arse where his mouth had been a second before. That long, lolling insistent tongue and those eager lips already furiously busy in exploration of that other end of the diminutive muscle man, licking, kissing sucking and chewing at the mound of hard furry backside that this guy had set up as his next course in his particularly ravenous ingestion of Dent as a lunchtime banquet.

Between slurps, the guard growled "Get busy, boy! ", but with his legs waving in the air all Dent could really do was slaver all over the serge and realising this, his assailant deftly unzipped and unbuckled with one hand while still retaining his lip lock on Dent's arse with an impossible suction. Even when Goliath raised up his own backside to slip down his oversized garments in a more ungainly and hasty fashion he didn't show the least sign of letting go that delightful portal so ardent was his desire for that gobbling and puckering ring around his tongue.

What greeted the topsy turvy face of the gym orderly, once the wrapping was off the guard's lower torso, was a very large circumcised cock with a thick, bright, piercing ring through the urethra about an inch and one half in diameter, the ball which swung ominously close to Alun's mouth, easily the size of a child's marble, then, as the thick member swelled in girth and length, it straightened to arch in a tremendously impressive upward curve defying the pull of the weighty metal embellishment. An example of male genitalia that would flatter even the devil himself.

His man scent was rich, potent and delicious and in spite of having so recently swallowed prison officer cock and eaten out prison officer arse over in the gym, Dent could not wait to cram this fabulous monster feast of man flesh into his throat and nestle his nose in this huge man's tangle of pubic hair. Still he resisted until a free hand was used behind his neck to pull him onto the powerful spike and Dent made the spluttering and sounds of revulsion expected of a victim in this situation before allowing it to occupy his whole mouth. Then Goliath slid forward and opened his legs to reveal the full length of his steel hard member and to his astonishment the whole mass slid into the skilled throat of Mr. Dent curving up into and expanding Alun's upturned gullet. Now lying on the prone officer, his face totally impaled on the man's huge dong, his arse crammed into the man's growling slavering face and his own genitals, unable to continue in denial, now cruelly pressed against the man's uniform shirt and tie and writing snail trails of silvery pre-cum there.

A good lung full of air when he saw the inevitable coming and a few rippling contractions of the throat were all that was required to bring the towering officer to that quivering catastrophe of orgasm and Dent was bounced up and down as the penis, pumping slammer after slammer of sticky, sweet salty spoog deep into the little guy's guts, while wracking spasms were transmitted through the great frame of the man as he continually, obsessively sucked and nibbled and chewed at Dent's hole and he burbled and spluttered out his grunts of pleasure and spilt his load uncontrollably.

Dent was at last able to lift his head far enough to get air before plunging back down over the fat flesh pipe and into that wonderful forest of manly warmth he loved so much. There were a few minutes of afterglow to enjoy repetitions of this diving and resurfacing before he was lifted again by the hips and cartwheeled horizontally this time, the lips and tongue that were probing his arse hole were once again in his mouth and would not be refused. Somehow they sought to retrieve the slimy jism now sloshing around in Dent's stomach.

Once reassured that Dent was going nowhere the man freed his hands, opened his tie, unbuttoned and spread his uniform white shirt wide revealing a broad but flat chest, thickly carpeted with hair. Dent laid his own hot forested breast down. He could feel the insistent bouncing of the door knocker ring in the end of Goliath's cock under his arse and against the backs of his legs, all too obviously signalling that its potency was in no way diminished by busting his nuts down Dent's throat way.

"You know what happens next, boy." Rumbled the big man in a half whispered way that was beyond mis-interpretation, as Alun made his best attempt at eyes pleading for his virginity to be spared. In response there was a solemn slow shaking of the head refusing the pardon and Alun raised himself up across the man and carefully straddled the massive upward curving column of flesh topped by its gleaming ring. He felt the huge hands cup his furry buttocks and part his cheeks wide, and the cold steel of the ball touched dead centre in Dent's arse hole. No one could give Alun Dent a lesson in squats. He'd made a point of learning everything there was to know and his powerful legs gave him smooth faultless control, his high chest position gave him balance and his breathing and concentration were perfectly in harmony as the steel ring then the rock hard, purple-pink tip, then the massive fist of it's crown, then the throbbing shaft slipped implausibly, inch by inch inside Dent's quivering muscular body. So transfixed was his assailant by the manner of his near miraculous penetration of this little guy without splitting him right up the middle that Dent thought the guy's eyes would pop right out of his head. So far up into Dent's gut was the probing and prodding of the mammoth organ, filling and expanding, re-arranging, that he felt for sure it ought to be poking out of the top of his own head as he finally reached a touch down onto the giant's lap.

No first timer could possibly have accommodated such a weapon without great discomfort. No first timer could have relaxed enough to admit a dick half this girth into his arse without passing out. No first timer would have got a hard-on under such conditions nor kept it as the slithering shaft of this mighty tool pistoned inexorably in and out of his flesh but the guard was so far past noticing the pretence in Dent's expertise. Tongue lolling out of his mouth, eyes rolling in an insanity of pleasure that was rising and falling on his hot column of lust.