It was the day I had to fly to Buffalo and I was a little bit uncomfortable. Ron and Gary had given me a going away party the night before and invited Johnson and Ken, the parole duo and the massive dicked tattoo guy who did their ink. Which meant that they had run a train, all night long, on my now bruised and throbbing asshole.
My jaw felt like it was dislocated and I felt like my new nickname should be "Cave of the Winds".
I was dressed and ready to be driven to the airport when Ron said, "We have a present for you."
I was about to say that if it involved a cock up my ass I'd rather wait till I came home but Gary grabbed my arms and held them behind me. Ron undid my pants and let them drop around my ankles while he fished around in an open counter drawer.
When he pulled his hand out, he held something I'd never seen before. It looked like a tiny round cage for an animal but it was open at both sides and the hinged at the top. He waved it in front of my face, then squatted in front of me and fitted the contraption around my cock and balls. It was a tight fit and my piss slit just cleared the front opening.
I started to get turned on by the sensation of it but as my cock hardened, the metal bars dug into my flesh and killed the feeling. Ron reached into his pocket and took out a small padlock that he clamped onto the rings at the bottom of the cage.
"That will keep you thinking about us while you're gone," Ron said.
Then Gary said, "Now, my present."
He reached into his pocket and brought out a hard black rubber butt plug. It was about six inches long with a blunt pointed end and a thick middle that tapered back down to a wide flange
Ron pulled me forward so that I was bent over and I felt Gary spit on my hole and then start cramming the plug up my ass.
"Keep it in during your flight," he said as he buried it in my hole. "I'll know if you take it out. "
Thank God that in those innocent pre-9/11 days, there was no such thing as an airport body scan.
As soon as I reached Buffalo, I had another surprise in store. I'd picked up my bags and was headed out of the terminal when I saw a guy standing out front holding a sign with my name on it.
He was about 50, around 6'2" and lean. He was wearing a black leather vest over a thermal undershirt and a pair of tight, worn 501's that accentuated the thick mass protruding at his crotch. His hair was long, in a braid down his back and he had a close cut beard. I walked up to him, identified myself and he handed me an envelope addressed to me in Ron's handwriting.
The note inside read: "Welcome to Buffalo. This is our bud Long John who you'll be staying with while you're in town. He is taking our place for the next two weeks and you will do ANYTHING that he demands of you. He will also introduce you to some of our other old friends from inside and you are to make sure that you keep them happy and obey their every command. We're watching you!" signed "Ron and Gary".
I read the note and then turned to my host. "So they call you Long John?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, "but not because of the shirt. You'll soon find out why." He reached down and shifted the pounds of meat in the crotch of his jeans.
He led me to the garage where he had parked a beat up panel van. I went to the passenger side but he opened the back doors and said, "No, back here."
I went around to the back and looked in. There was an old mattress on the van floor, covered with a cheap Indian throw, which took up all of the available floor space. Long John pushed me forward as I climbed in so that I fell face down, then climbed in behind me and shut the doors. He grabbed the waist of my pants and pulled them down to my knees and then I felt his hands parting my buns and feeling around my hole.
"Butt plug still in place," he said. "I'll let Gary know."
He then basically ripped the rest of my clothes off and climbed over the top of me. In the tight confines of the closed van, I could smell his sweat. He sat down facing me with his legs spread wide and said, "Time for you to meet the real Long John."
He unbuttoned his fly and shucked his jeans down over his knees. He was wearing a stained jock and the tattered pouch was stuffed full to the bursting point.
"Pull this jock down and say hello to your new best buddy," he said.