The Girl Next Door

It's not easy being a guard in the prison where your best friend is serving time on a drug rap. He had served three years and was now up for parole. He had a clean prison record and the promise of a job on the outside. It wouldn't pay as much as his old job at the auto plant, but it was a good job, provided by a football fan who remembered Lester Vernon as the star quarterback on our little town's high school team.

Lester was a "pretty boy" and his time in prison had not been pleasant. I was six four and 240 pounds and I had been able to protect him on the football field when Coach asked me to, but I had not been able to protect him from the inevitable fate of pretty boys in prison. He was probably going to get out soon and what happened would be history, unless it left scars too thick to heal. He was meeting with the parole board the next morning.

I stayed late that night and walked through Lester's cellblock. It was after lights out, but there was still enough dim light to see. I looked into his cell and Lester Vernon was bent over, steadying himself by holding the sink with both hands, taking a thick one right up the ass.

His cellmate was a big, heavy-hung, black guy and he'd been fucking Lester for over two years. Lester was grunting and positioning his ass to take it deep. Lester's erection was firm and bouncing up and down as he got fucked. As I watched, Lester groaned and had an orgasm, pumping a big load of white, stringy semen out onto the floor.

I turned and walked away before the black guy finished him off. I didn't want Lester to know that I had seen this humiliating thing happen to him. The guards watched prisoners fuck all the time, if it was consensual, and made jokes about it, but this was different. Lester had been my friend since high school and now I was in love with his wife.

The next afternoon, during a break, I walked out into the prison yard to speak with Lester. His meeting with the parole board had gone well that morning. Their report would probably be favorable.

It was obvious he was worried about what he was going to do when he got out. He began to ask me questions about his wife, Nancy Lee - questions about things that we had never talked about before. He asked for details about me fucking her.

"Tell me what she needs, Joe Bradley," Lester Vernon said. "I need to know. How often do you fuck her?"

He'd never asked me any of this before. Until now, he'd just wanted to be sure that I was "taking care" of her, so she wouldn't run around. Well, tell him the truth, I thought. No reason to lie about it now. He had asked me to fuck her because he knew she would need it and he didn't want her to become known as the town whore.

"I usually fuck her three nights a week," I said.

"How many times each night?" Lester asked.

"Usually twice, and if I stay overnight, once the next morning before I leave. And about once a month I spend the weekend at your place. We just stay naked and fuck the whole weekend. Your wife needs to get fucked a lot Lester."

"Does she come every time you fuck her?"

"Usually. Sometimes she comes twice," I said.

It was painful to tell him the truth. I put myself in his place and imagined how it must feel hearing a graphic description of your wife getting fucked, while you're locked up and helpless. But Lester Vernon wanted to hear about it now because he was worried about having sex with Nancy Lee when he got out. That's why he was asking me these questions.

Lester looked off toward the fence that bounded his world. "That's a lot of fucking," he said softy.

"Yeah," I said. "But it's good pussy Lester Vernon. Spectacular pussy. She's got muscles that grab your dick and hold it like strong hand."

Lester stood there thinking. I could almost see the porn video playing in his head with his wife in the starring role. He looked again at the fence that held him prisoner. "Look Joe Bradley," Lester said. "I've been getting fucked like a woman for three years. I just bend over and take it up the ass. That's the only way I come now. It's the only way I can get it up. I don't even jack off any more. I don't know if I can get it up to fuck her. How the hell am I gonna do it several nights a week?"

"You'll be okay Lester Vernon," I reassured him. "I've heard about a lot of guys who were forced to be punks in prison, but when they got out they could still fuck their women. Trust me. You'll be okay."

He just hung his head and looked at the ground. "I'm scared to death. Does Nancy Lee know that I'm getting fucked in the ass?"

Tell him the truth, I reminded myself. "Yes she does Lester. The prisoners' wives talk a lot in the waiting room on visitor's day. She knows what a "punk" is and what "marriage" is and what "carrying coal" is and she knows you've got a big black cellmate. She knows you had to do it to avoid getting gang raped."

"She thinks I'm a fag, doesn't she?"

"No Lester Vernon she does not think you are a fag."

"Is she afraid I might not be able to be her husband when I get out?" His voice was soft, almost trembling, as he asked.

Nancy Lee had talked about the humiliation and the pain that Lester was suffering in prison, but I had never heard her say she thought he might not be able to fuck her when he got out. I answered honestly.

"She has never said a word about that."

"You're going to have to help us Joe Bradley. You know that we can't do it alone."

I nodded. "I'll help any way I can."

"One more thing," he said.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Is it true that she went out to the parking lot at the Ranch with three guys and she was gonna fuck 'em?"

He had never asked about this before. It had happened over two years ago. I wasn't even sure he knew about it till now. That must have been the incident that caused him to ask me to fuck her.

"Yes it's true," I said.

"And you went out and got her and took her home?"

"Yes I did."

"She was gonna fuck 'em, wadn't she? All three of 'em!"

"Well, Lester Vernon, Nancy Lee was very drunk that night," I said.

"But she was horny and she was gonna fuck 'em, wadn't she? Right out in the open, in the parking lot where anybody who wanted to could watch?"

"Well ... Yeah ... I guess she was," I finally admitted.

"She's a real horny woman. If you hadn't started fucking her, she would have become the town whore, wouldn't she?" Lester asked.

He was right. I nodded. "Yeah I guess she would have. You're right Lester, your wife is a very horny woman. She needs a man on a regular basis."

He sighed and looked away. "Then I did the right thing by asking you to fuck her. Nobody knows about it?"

"Nobody," I assured him.

"I'm much obliged to you, Joe Bradley. Thank you for fucking her for me and for keeping it quiet," he said.

Then he thought for a moment and added, "Asking you to fuck her was the right thing for me to do. I just hope I can give her what she needs when I get out."

When I thought about how Nancy Lee and I had fallen in love, I wasn't as sure as Lester Vernon was that fucking her was the right thing. Neither Nancy Lee nor I could bring ourselves to tell him the truth. I had no idea how this thing was going to end.

I went over to Nancy Lee's doublewide that night and told her that Lester Vernon's meeting with the parole board had gone well.

"He'll probably be out in a couple of days when the paper work is complete," I said.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Have you figured out what we're gonna do?" She asked softly.

"I can't tell him," I said.

"I can't tell him either," Nancy Lee said.

We'd been saying this for months, but now his release was only days away and we were no closer to a solution than we were before.

"When you make love to me tonight," she said, "be gentle."

Both of us seemed to feel it was our last time. It was gentle and passionate and tender and we whispered words of love to each other. Nancy Lee usually liked for me to bang her hard. She always said, "I won't break, Joe Bradley" and that's the way I always fucked her.

But this night was different, somehow. Passionate, but soft and tender, like saying a loving good-bye. And I had the feeling that maybe it really was good-bye and I cried with my head on her shoulder and she patted me on the back like I was a child. We went to sleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, while she was still asleep, I left the doublewide as the sun was rising and then I did a cowardly thing. I went to the prison office and asked for two weeks vacation. This was short notice, but I hadn't had much time off and my supervisor liked my work. The next day I packed a few things and headed south for the Emerald Coast.

I called Nancy Lee's home phone, knowing she would be at work, and left a message that I would be gone for a couple of weeks. I said I was sorry, but I couldn't face Lester Vernon. She would have to do it alone. Then I turned off my cell. It was cowardly, but I simply could not bring myself to tell my best friend that I had fallen in love with his wife while he was locked up.

After about four hours I came to a bridge and read a sign that said "The World's Luckiest Fishing Village." I got a room in an inexpensive motel a block from the beach. Then I went to a discount beach store and bought a cooler and all the stuff I needed for the beach. By mid-afternoon I was under an umbrella looking across sugar white sand at emerald colored water and drinking beer.

The memories started flooding through my head the moment I sat down. They hurt. But, by the time a big red sun went down over the horizon off to my right, I was drunk enough to forget the pain of those memories.

The next morning I woke up with a headache, had a big breakfast at Another Broken Egg Café, and headed for the beach with my beer. My headache was gone by noon but my memories had returned as I looked out over that emerald water.

I saw Nancy Lee in my mind, naked in spike heels that first night I fucked her. I saw her as a ninth grader in a bikini, watching me cut grass and walking close enough to me to smell my sweat. I cursed my stupidity at not asking her for a date in the tenth grade. The memories kept flooding through my head until, by mid-afternoon, they were drowned out by beer.

I must have passed out because it was dark when I woke up, collected my stuff, and headed back to the motel. I stopped off and bought a bottle of Early Times to take back to my room. Maybe that wouldn't give me a headache the next morning.

No such luck. I rolled out of bed at ten o'clock and reached for the aspirin. Then I poured another drink from a half empty bottle of Early Times. Bacon and eggs helped a little but coffee seemed to make it worse. Back to the beach. Back to my memories.

I lost track of what day it was. The only decent meal I ate was breakfast. I was gonna kill my liver if I kept this up. Alcohol seemed to numb the painful memories and the regrets about what I should have done. I should have dated her - I should have married her – I should have done something – anything instead of just sitting at home and jacking off and thinking about her naked.

Each morning I got up and went to the beach and stared at the water and let the memories flood my mind until beer and booze drowned them out. Day after day I did it.

Then one morning, as I reached for what had to be my seventh or eighth bottle of Early Times, I heard a voice loud and clear. It was so real that I looked around the room to see where he was. It was Lester Vernon's voice, but my room was empty.

The voice said, "You're going to have to help us, Joe Bradley. You know that we can't do it alone."

Then I heard my own voice saying. "I'll help any way I can."

I was hearing voices – but, at least, they were the right kinds of voices. I put the bottle of Early Times back on the table. Then I got up and headed for the shower. I packed my things and loaded the car. I left the booze and beer and beach stuff in the room for the maid. As I paid my bill, I checked a newspaper. I had been gone almost two weeks. Then I started the drive back north. I had to help. I had promised.

When I got back to my apartment I called a few friends and asked about Lester Vernon. His parole had come through. He was working at his new job – making a lot less – but working. Everyone seemed to think things were going great for Lester and Nancy. I went to work and thanked my supervisor for giving me the time off.

I went back to my apartment, after my first day back at work, and found a surprise. Nancy Lee was waiting for me when I opened the door. She ran to me, threw herself into my arms, and kissed me. I couldn't help it – I kissed her back. Then I pushed her away because I knew where it would end if I didn't.

"Is everything all right?" I asked.

She shook her head no.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.

She had already helped herself to bourbon and ginger from my kitchen.

"Do you want me to fix you a drink?" She asked.

My stomach turned over. "No thanks," I said. "So how are things?"

"As bad as they can be. Lester Vernon can't get it up. He tries. He rubs it. I rub it. I suck it. He got Doc Evans to give him the purple pill. Nothing works. We tried a porn video. I even shoved a big vibrator up his ass. Nothing!"

"I've heard about this sort of thing," I said. "Sometimes it takes a while for a guy to get adjusted."

"It's been two weeks! Still nothing! It doesn't even start to get hard. It just hangs there - soft and floppy and useless." Nancy Lee said.

We sat quietly. I didn't know what to say. Finally she broke the silence.

"I'm horny as a mountain goat, Joe Bradley," she said. "I need to get laid. Will you take care of me? I've been trying to turn him on every night for two weeks. I turn myself on. I get in the mood to fuck. But he can't fuck me with that floppy thing."

"We can't start that again," I said firmly.

"Please," she said. "Fuck me! Please!"

I shook my head no. She got up and before I knew it she had slipped her sweater over her head and her tits were out. She started to pull her shorts down.

I would not be able to deal with this I thought, so I got up quickly and headed for the door. The last thing I saw as I ran out, was that thick, curly haired beaver. I had a throbbing hard on as I jumped in my car and drove off.

I drove out to the Interstate and parked at a rest stop. I went into an empty men's room and into a toilet stall. My dick was still throbbing when I pulled it out of my pants and started stroking it.

When I ejaculated, it seemed like an endless stream of cum spurted out into the toilet, onto the floor, on my hand. I stood there looking down at a massive pool of creamy white semen floating in the toilet with thick strands of heavy cum slowly sinking below the floating mass.

I just stood there with my dick in my hand, thinking about my situation. On the metal wall to my right, written with a black, felt-tip pen, was an inscription in big block letters. "Fuck my wife while I watch."

I had heard stories from fellows at the Ranch. How you would go out to some guy's SUV in a dark part of the parking lot. The guy would sit in the front seat playing with his dick, watching his naked wife on the floor in the back, spread her legs, take a big one deep, pump her ass, and grunt toward the orgasm that only a stranger could give her.

I thought about Lester Vernon getting fucked by his big black cellmate. I thought about prisoners with Vaseline between their legs, "slick legging" another guy's dick. I thought about the punks walking around the prison with their pants hanging low on their hips – the universal signal that their ass was available if another prisoner wanted it.

I thought about Nancy Lee showing me her pussy and begging me to fuck her. I thought about Lester Vernon with his floppy, useless dick, trying to fuck the woman I loved. I thought about how much more complicated sex really was than the simple story my Daddy had told me in the seventh grade. This need for sex – sex of some kind – sex of different kinds – seemed to be the driving force in everybody's life.

Finally, I put my dick away, washed my hands, and drove back home. When I got back I looked for Nancy Lee's car. It was not in my lot.

I expected Nancy Lee to be in my apartment when I got home from work the next day. I was wrong. Lester Vernon was parked in my lot. I got out of the car and went over to shake his hand.

"Good to see you in civilian clothes," I said.

"I need your help," he said.

I walked him up to my apartment and mixed him an Early Times and ginger ale. I poured a ginger ale for myself – I had had enough booze in the past two weeks. We sat down in the living room.

"I can't get it up," Lester said.

"Well," I said, "Sometimes it takes a while to get used to things after all that time in prison."

Lester just sat there looking beat.

"How's you new job?" I asked.

"I'm grateful for it, but it doesn't pay what my old one did. Nancy Lee saved up a little while I was away but we're gonna have to find a way to get some more money pretty soon," he said glumly.

"I understand. Maybe you could find a part time job someplace," I said. "Maybe I can lend you a few bucks. Just don't get back into the drug game Lester. Don't do that or your parole will be revoked and you might get some more years tacked on."

"I won't do that," he said.

I believed him. I thought he had learned his lesson. I was wrong.

"Joe Bradley you just gotta help me," Lester pleaded. "Nancy Lee tries to get me up every night but I can't get hard. We've tried everything. I even tried some coke that I had stashed away from before and that didn't work."

Coke from before? What did that mean?

"Try not to get so upset about it Lester Vernon. Getting upset just makes it worse. You gotta relax – try a little booze but not too much. Trust me! I've heard about a lot of guys who get over this kind of thing."

"Nancy Lee is getting really horny. I can tell," Lester Vernon said. "Maybe you ought to screw her a little. We've been out to the Ranch a couple of times and she dances close to the guys."

"Lets not start that again," I said. "Just keep on trying."

"You gotta fuck her Joe Bradley. Maybe we ought to try a threesome," Lester said tentatively.

"If you mean what I think you mean Lester Vernon, then forget it," I said firmly. "If we tried that, there'd be two of us who couldn't get it up."

"You need to relax Lester. Lets go out to the Ranch tonight," I said.

It was Friday and the full crowd would be there. Lester Vernon called Nancy Lee and then he drove me over to their doublewide to pick her up. The crowd was fun and the music was good and we danced and had a lot of beer. Everyone made a point to walk over and welcome Lester back. He had a lot of friends rooting for him.

Nancy Lee put her pussy on my leg and rubbed every time we danced. She was starting to turn me on just like she always did. Lester danced with her as much as I did and when it got late the three of us danced to slow tunes together. Then we headed for home.

"Drop me off at my place," I said as we got into town. I had had more to drink than I should have and Nancy Lee's pussy rubbing on my leg had affected me. I was gonna go home and jack off.

"Come on over to the doublewide for a nightcap," Lester said. I didn't have much choice. All of us had had a lot to drink. When we got to their place Nancy Lee brought out the Early Times and we began to sip it straight. I was not prepared for what happened next.

I didn't even see her leave the room, but Nancy Lee suddenly appeared in one of Lester Vernon's shirts and it was obvious she was naked underneath. She kept rubbing up against me and Lester played along. It was almost as though they had planned it in advance – maybe they did.