You left me, my gentle reader (or did I leave you?), at the very moment of my release from prison, after I have spent there the whole 15 months, which was exactly half of my sentence.
My first week in prison was rough. I was framed by the old man whose wife and his lover I enjoyed greatly, both of them, and most of the time simultaneously. He had arranged for me to get killed by the inmates as fast as possible. But I was faster than them and stronger. I am 6'10"+10", if you know what I mean, and I am an exceptional warrior--the fruit of breeding for generations.
On the other hand my baby twin brother Stuart had influenced the prison administration, so that the administration and the guards had treated me fair, just fair. By the way, I am kidding you when I say that me and Stuart are twins; I am black and my half-brother is half black and half yellow. And anyway, you know that there is no such thing like a baby twin sibling, don't you?
Also, isn't it ironic that Stuart, who was a legendary thief in Hong Kong since his childhood until well into his teens, is today a hot shot lawyer and investigator. He was a legend but his identity was not known to anybody. He was never arrested or even suspected, while I, who never stole a penny, ended up in can for nothing. And so it goes.
Once I had settled in I couldn't complain too much about the prison routine. I read a lot and I exercised. And each morning I promised myself that I will never again be deprived of my personal freedom.
It was especially hard on me to live without any female companionship. Until my arrest there were hardly any two days in a row that I would not have a woman. Women were crazy about me, yes, for my body and my manhood, but also because I am nice to women, I truly adore them, I did several hundreds of them, close to a thousand I guess. I am different in this respect from Stuart, who also appreciates women, but he does not spend two nights in a row with any of the thousands of them. I said routinely "nights", while Stuart may easily have two or three chicks the same day. I don't understand him and his, how should I call it, discipline, which allows him to stay emotionally detached from his lovers.
The nights spent in the cell were harder on me than the days. I need only two to four hours of sleep per day. But in prison I slept about five hours to kill time, to escape from the reality, from too much thinking. I had this recurring dream. You see, Stuart loves airplanes and airports. That's were he relaxes when he can afford a break, or even in the line of duty, on a legitimate business trip. He befriends the pilots and he flies in jets or small passengers planes. It is recharging him. And that's one more place where he finds love. Just like that. But why do I end up always talking about Stuart?
Oh, my dream. We are at an airport, in a well lit corridor, which was aside from the main traffic. I am with Gina and Sophia. Gina is the wife and Sophia is the lover of that old guy. They are young, beautiful, sweet Italian girls. Their necks feel great in my hands, while my ass enjoys their playful attention. Stuart is farther down the corridor with a woman he has just met. She's beautiful too. Stuart grabs a chair, gives the girl his comb, puts his hands under her armpits, raises her into air and sets her up standing on the chair. "Brush my hair"--he orders her. She happily obliges. I smile too because I cannot ask just any woman to brush MY hair, it would not be so easy.
The girl brushes Stuart's hair with his comb, she uses her both hands, and she gives him full access to her body! Stuart kisses, grabs, caresses, fondles... everything there is, and, for those who know about such things, there is a lot. Stuart has a thief's delicate touch and the girl moans continuously and keeps brushing my baby brother's hair. (Did I tell you that baby Stuart is 6'8"+8", if you know what I mean?)
I feel a bit conscious of the environment. I look back to the beginning of the corridor, where people are walking by. This is a busy airport for God's sake, and I don't want us to get arrested. But Gina and Sophia touch me in the many so familiar to them places. When you are sensitive and 6'10"+10", there are many ways to make you unimaginably hot. I don't even realize that I already play with their tits. But my you know what does realize the proximity of the two Italian pussies and "he" gets very uncomfortable in its confinement. Ooooh, I hate this word "confinement". I give in. I fuck Gina, then Sophia and again, they cum and switch, and Stuart sets his girl on his you know what, and she goes crazy about his extra tents and hundreds of an inch. We go on, forward, forward, but something is not right. Stuart looks at me, I look at Stuart. We want to and we cannot cum. I worry about the people and the airport security. I try hard to cum fast. Gina and Sophia look at me with those black, almond eyes. Stuart looks at me. His girl looks at me. I try. And Stuart tries, And... I wake up before I can cum!!! It takes me long to come back to my senses. Another dreary day starts.
I was released from prison in the morning. You'd think I was extremely horny, and you're right. You'd think I would quickly get a young girl on campus to enjoy my freedom and to get her brains fucked out, and you're wrong. I could easily do it, sure. But somehow I wanted to savor the first hours of my freedom by myself. I needed this time to get back my harmony, my positive outlook on life and on the world in general. There was tomorrow, I had tomorrow. I was repeating this mantra to myself almost non-stop. I will never ever allow even the slightest chance to get into any trouble.
