"Are those two motherfuckers going at it again?" Bud, my agitated cellmate asked of the growing snickers coming from our neighboring cell.

He was up, bare ass and all, performing his late night ritual of pissing directly into the chrome toilet. He ended his serenade with a loud snort that always stirred me out of my sleep.

I rolled over onto my side, catching the lonely light coming in from the open air corridor watching him pump away at his budding erection. He should have derived some sort of pleasure form this mundane act. It soon became apparent that his body longed for another, Ahmad, our neighbor. Bud had once been a third to their twosome when Ahmad's prison husband Fatback, a portly enraged Buddha-like character, thought it would be best to keep his prized Arabian Night wifey to himself.

Of course, it didn't help ease the pain that there was only a thin wall that separated Bud and Ahmad as catcalls began to congregate towards the next cell as Ahmad and Fatback turned their foreplay of laughter into heaving grunts and exaggerated yelps. Bud, still detached from his pleasure, began pumping violently to their erratic rhythm when I startled him in mid-stroke, "let it go."

Bud didn't spat his usual smug response to "fuck off" as his hand simply moved from his crotch up to his red Irish beard, slowly making his footsteps towards me and the cots.

"Just pissing proud, my friend, piss proud and prosper," he stated sort of gravely.

He drove his foot into my cot and kicked up to get into his. His course Irish brew followed with, "I'm starting to think that you like waking up just to look at my ding-a-ling, Alistair."

"If only you had one, I might." I joked.

Bud was only an inch or two shy of my bull hung dick, which by any standards in or out of jail was still pretty impressive. Because we had spent close to fifteen years occupying the same cell, we were almost one in the same except for the very few edges I boasted over my dear friend and even the few he held over me. Where I had length, Bud made up for it in his girth. This was how we were able to get the nickname "Bottles" and "Beer Can."

"It's bigger than that damn blubber butt over there!"

I thumped the back of his slender bed. Bud come easily thought that I was being playful with him that time of the night. But I meant it as a warning to lower his voice. He may have been right about Fatback. I was never able to confirm or deny the allegation. Besides, that wasn't the point. The last thing I wanted to do was to pull Bud from under an infuriated Fatback like I did in the canteen the week before when Fatback claimed Ahmad as his sole property.

Thought, I was still pretty confident that Fatback was way too busy enjoying his honeymoon with Ahmad to hear a word or even care for that matter.

"Hadn't you heard, Bud? It's the groove in the ocean. Not the size of it."

"As many waves in that ocean, Ahmad should be swimming well!"

Bud and I laughed.

He and I got along with no trouble. That wasn't always the case, however. The very thing that kept us at bay for so long was the very thing that finally pulled us together. We were both misfits within a wall of misfits. He was a first generation redheaded Irishman raised in the roughest borough of New York, and I was a mulatto bred in lily white New England. Other than great scores and fast money, we really didn't have much in common. In spite of the paths that landed us behind bars, we grew to respect and eventually love one another during our tenure together.

"Who told you that, Alistair?" Bud asked of me.

"Bert, over there," I said, speaking of our third cellmate, sleeping in a lone bunk on the other side of the room. "He told me that shit right before I gave him a proper meat injection his very first night here. I taught him that this big-ass bottle can make a huge splash and then some waves!"

Beer Can Bud injected. "And the poor bastard has been a dick addict ever since."

"We roared with more laughter at his expense.

Other than being our young nineteen-year-old cellmate blessed with a very ample derriere, Bert was also green-eyed envious when it came to my relationship with Bud. Bert was slow - not quite mature enough to appreciate our special bond. Even though I never used the term in lockup, everybody, even the COs knew that Bud and I were together. We just never confined our connection to the realm of monogamy. Albeit, we had a stronger bond that those who claimed they were. While Bert had a problem not being the only one, if not the most significant other in my life, Bud was just the opposite, failing to understand why the rest of the prison system didn't heed to our deal.

"Oh, baby, don't be like that," I called out over to Bert, turning his back on us.

I skinned the covers from my unclothed muscle-yard frame unveiling my long, juicy hard-on that was probably offset by the groans next door or catching a glimpse of the nude Bud.

"I guess you should make nice with Young Bertie."

My bare feet agreed with Bud as I moved across the cold cement floor adjacent to ours. I said to Bert, "I guess I have to make nice with you, huh?"

Bert turned back over to his side and nodded his gorgeous face in my shadow. He began to inhale deep around my acrid pubes before sticking his tongue inside my elongated piss slit. Bert continued down the shaft, licking my balls and came back up sucking my mushroom head with his puckered mouth forcefully. He even went further licking the underside of my dick using slow strokes on the big vein. Finding myself getting highly aroused with being in his mouth, I grabbed the back of his neck and guided my meat down his gagging throat.

"Deep throat," I told him with extreme authority.

He obliged. By the time I finally coaxed his throat with my sweet jizz my feet were nicely warm to the contrasting floor.

"Want some?" I asked Bud, letting my limp dick rest in my cocksucker's mouth.

I thought I would cheer Bud up with Bert, even if I knew perfectly well that Bert didn't wasn't anything to do with Bud. But since it was sort of an unwritten rule that Bert would do anything to win my favor, Bert would do it simply to please me. On top of his raging jealously, Bert was very superficial when it came to looks. Despite the fact that Bud had a nice body, he was far from handsome in the typical fashion. His utterly ugly looks grew attractive the more you understood his coarse nature; handsome in a doggish way, an old inmate once called it. Unlike me, who took years to finally see it, Ahmad saw it right away. Ahmad was queer and queerly beautiful to the streets, so his value only increased behind bars. Bud wasn't anything of a kind, leaving nothing more than an intense attraction mixed with a mutual envy. Bert, unable to see this rough splendor in his own cell, he left himself open for Bud to seize his at any given opportunity.

"Sure, why not?" Bud answered, swinging his large feet over the bunk.

His feet pounded the cold cement floor, etching his way over to the third cot.

"Then, come and get some," I said, easing my sensitive meat out of Bert's mouth.

Without waiting for a proper invite, Bud reached over and poked Bert's asshole through the thin prison sheets to find it already greased, mostly for me. Bert let out a protest of a roar while Bud demanded that he "get on his stomach." Bert obliged. Bud peeled back the cover and climbed on top of Bert, feeling for his crack and shoving his dick against his tight, fine-haired butthole.

"Shiiit!" Bert screamed into the pillow as Bud slowly fed him his inches.

I was already reclining on my cot massaging my newest erections when our neighbors in the next cell were finishing up. Looking over at Bud, I could tell that he found his inspiration to give Bert a long deserving deep fuck amongst the catcallers and the dog barkers.

Bert tried to ease the pleasurable pain churning his ass by squirming forward in his cot. He was fully impaled and locked under the strength of his top to move anywhere. Once Bert accepted that Bud was in him for the long haul, pumping harder and deeper into him, Bert began grinding back, trying to get him to cum sooner. By the look on his face, Bud was close, but stopped shy of it, flipping Bert onto his back. With Bert's limbs on Bud's shoulders, Bud began pumping passionately into him, sadistically plowing his helpless reddened ass. His balls slapped his hole, and Bert conceded by spraying his load all over his stomach causing Bud to pull out and orgasm across Bert's already cummy face.

A week and a half later, Bud and I had been using Bert simultaneous for our carnal pleasures. It was becoming painfully obvious that Bert and his bunghole were becoming quite loose from the frequent pounding we were inflicting on him. Because, as most would say, Bud and I were lovers, I was already hurt by wiry Ahmad and was trying his earnest to make Ahmad and Fatback jealous with his feverish fucking with Bert.

My cell along with a host of other inmates were scattered about the canteen line a couple of days later, buying thing with our book money, when I paid attention to who was standing in front of me. It was Fatback. He was standing in front of Ahmad, who was shamelessly pressing his backend against his husband on a number of occasions, causing inmates and guards alike to leave imprints in there pants. When they got to the front of the line, Ahmad took his place beside Fatback as he ordered necessities and other items for the both of them. The cashier tallied it up and told him that his books were several buck short of the items he wanted.

"Shit!" Fatback rattled.

It was well known that Fatback had connections on the outside that always kept money on his books. It was even said by one cashier (many years ago) that Fatback could live quite comfortably for five years on the money he had on the books. That was more than ten years ago. I just naturally assumed that it was the same today.

I asked, "Out of coins, Fat?"

The fat man when onto explain that he hadn't converted his prison credits of cigarettes - gold behind bars - into solid cash through a behind the walls deal with the guards and hustlers. If I had been any other inmate, he wouldn't have given me that kind of vital information. But he did because he thought he had an equal, a confidante in me. Other than Fatback, it was also well know that my father and his wealthy suburbanite family kept money on my books.

"Can you help me out, Alistair?"

"Sure," I paused, watching his face light up. His brightened face fell when my mind went to work. I uttered, "Only if you pawn over Ahmad for a few tricks."

Fatback sat on it for a moment. And even though he did this, his reaction was still abrupt when he smiled in agreement, particularly for someone who didn't believe in sharing. We shook hands on the deal. I purchased their items on top of the items that I had set to purchase for Bert for his sportsmanship with Bud.

As soon as we got out of line, Fatback asked, "When you want to collect?"

"Right now," I gleamed.

After dropping my things off, I escorted Ahmad into "my office" in the faraway stairwell as Fatback made his way back to his cell with their things. Contrary to popular belief, most sex behind bars is very consenting. Most inmates, those who were doing serious time, adopted the mentality that rape is only necessary when the art of persuasion wasn't possible. Meanwhile, if the bitch couldn't be easily persuaded or "flipped" as we called it, it was much easier to obtain the soul through hustling services than taking the risk of getting fingered and thrown in the hole for several days.

As I walked down the stairwell behind Ahmad, I was short of playfully smacking his bubble bottom. I guess he felt this too, as he made sudden stops along the stairwell, urging my stiffened dick against his mounds.

"You think you're slick." I said.

"Only when I need be Mr. Bottles," Ahmad grinned.

"Bottles. I haven't heard that shit in a long time," I said. "But Big Daddy Alistair works just as well."

We made our way to a secluded landing. Ahmad turned around, and in an instant his mouth sought mine. The lights went out and our ears were flooded with the sound of lovemaking. Before I could tell him my intent, my jumpsuit was open, and his hot breath was all over my private parts. If I wasn't hard before, I was then.

"Look, Ahmad, you don't have to do that."

I felt his darted tongue flick the tip of my dick.

"I know. I want to," he said with his Middle Eastern accent vaguely there.

Ahmad engulfed me without another word. I was too at awe with his oral skills to push him away. It had finally registered with me that Ahmad was just sex for Bud. He was the ultimate experience. It was understandable why Fatback wanted him all to himself. It was also why Fatback willed Ahmad to me with a smile because he was just too powerful for just one person.

When the sensation became too powerful, I followed my instincts. I stood Ahmad up and faced him against the wall, pulling his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. I kissed the back of his neck as my wet dickhead pressed against his hungry hole. We both felt good as I eased into him. He drew me all the way in, giving me the go-ahead to use him strictly for my pleasure.

Our jack-hammering grunts and groans interweaving with those around us as we unburdened our loads.

"And to think you didn't want any of this," Ahmad said heavily.

"It wasn't that," I said, feeling a little flushed as I felt him turn between me and the wall. "It was just that…"

His fingers pressed against my lips.

"I know you asked me for Bud," he said, reading my mind.

That was my intent, my only intent for asking for Ahmad.

"But that was no reason for you not to try the merchandise everybody has been raving about."

"I wouldn't say all that," I said, trying not to inflate his ego.

"I know you wouldn't, Mr. Bottles. But I would - so I've heard, no? Besides he wouldn't mind the way he was pounding away at your boy Bert the other night."

"Lights outs," the guard yelled.

Every light except for the primary lights in the open air corridor were turned out. Once I knew the guards had made their rounds, I slid opened our cell door. Being that the majority of the inmates on our block were well-established civilized prisoners, if there was such a thing, the guards never locked the cell doors. They only made sure that they were closed before they left, giving us free range that many on the block never took advantage of due to fear of the hole.

Bud and Bert stuck close behind me as I quietly slid open the cell door belonging to Fatback and Ahmad, who were sound asleep in their cots. I directed Bert to wake up Fatback with a blowjob, in which he did, bringing a silly smirk to the jolly giant. Ahmad, who was sound asleep on his stomach, on the bottom bunk, received the smack on the butt that I wanted to deliver him earlier. He turned facing Bud and me, mouthing, "It's time to collect already?"

I nodded my head.

"Man, this is shit!"

"Man, a deal is a deal."

Ahmad dragged himself down from the cot to the cement floor where we were, wearing nothing more than some tightly fitting briefs that showed his excitement. When he fully awoke, Ahmad smiled at the budding Bud. Bud held Ahmad in his arms for a moment. They eventually kissed with Ahmad announcing a "threesome."

"Awesome," Bud said.

"All-some," I corrected, but being ignored nonetheless.

Bud and I undressed as Ahmad stripped his briefs. Fatback was already nude along with Bert, but they came to sand around us anyways. Taking the lead, I stood Ahmad in the center of us facing me. I ordered Bert to grab one leg while Fatback grabbed the other. I held his underarms for balance, burying my dick deep down his throat.

"You know what to do," I said to Bud.

Bud was positioned right between Ahmad's legs, ready to ram his dick into that ass. He looked over at Fatback, and asked if he had any grease.

"Vaseline, in the usual place," Fatback nodded.

It seemed from there that whatever tore the two of them apart was being sown back together.

Bud inserted a greasy finger in Ahmad. He whimpered, complaining that it was cold. Bud laughed, saying that he could fix that, sliding two and three fingers out of his hole. Once the Vaseline was warmed, Bud pressed in Ahmad cracking the thick lubrication sliding further into him. With Ahmad bouncing off our dicks, he seemed pretty satisfied with his midair flight. Everybody had their turn with each of Ahmad's holes, including Bert, leaving ropes and ropes of thick cum down and across his body.

We placed Ahmad on the top bunk, the one that belonged to Fatback, wiping his body clean of cum. After relaying how much fun we had, Fatback ordered that we "leave the two lovebirds alone."

Ahmad climbed down from his bunk.

Bert, Fatback and I made it back to our cell where I spooned Bert on Bud's cot just above our snoring guest.

In the coming days, Fatback couldn't deny the genuine love that Ahmad and Bud had. So, instead of giving up his stake with Ahmad, he allowed the three of them to have a relationship together. This afforded me the luxury to exchange cells with Fatback and Ahmad.

In the long needed rest, Bert's hole snapped back into its tight form, gripping me with each stroke he and I shared in our new private cell.



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