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A Fantasy Story.

The contents of his box were something that Bruce would pay to have stolen from his cell. Sometimes, minor theft meant major death. Aaron felt his heart lurch but kept his mind on his impending release.

Attached to the outside of the box was a letter, which had already been opened, as usual. His address and prisoner number were emblazoned on the box as well as the envelope and he smiled, loving the fact that this was all for him. Aaron decided to leave the letter for last, opening the box. Inside were two leather-bound books. One was 'An Autobiography of Malcolm X'. Aaron was surprised to see that volume. The other was 'Grimm's Fairy Tales'.


Aaron thought about Paul's last letter. Two books. One will appeal to your child-like sensibilities and the other that will speak to your soul. He was surprised to find himself a little upset but knew that Paul was only doing what he had asked. He had wanted to be educated and now that the material was before him, he wanted nothing more than porn mags. He set the books down and snatched up the letter, hoping that the words would soothe his angry ego.

Fifteen minutes later, he was quietly sobbing over the information about Paul's childhood. Aaron had been an only child and since he'd seen Ordinary People, he'd equated anyone else's experience to the movie. Paul was the survivor. Paul had remained to rescue his sister. Paul was a hero. And yet, Paul insisted that he wasn't. Paul was a normal guy that was trying to live a normal life. His only request was love.

Hi, Paul,

I received your package today. I have to say that I wasn't pleased with the books that you sent me but I couldn't complain because I'm the one who gave you carte blanche. A book about a black man? That, I never expected. Not because I'm prejudiced, but because I've never read something like this.

I read the first two chapters before writing this letter and I just feel like a little piece of shit. I feel like my life means nothing. Is this what Christians feel like when they take God and Jesus into their hearts? I can't say, but I can only say thank you, from my point of view.

I will be 34 when I am released. In fact, my birthday is five days after my release date. My father is very sympathetic to me, only because I owned up to my crime and provided restitution. I have no problem with that. I'd just like to continue my life and I'd like to have you christen my bed.

Our letters thus far have been so ... vanilla that I ... I can't resist ... sneaking a little sex in. I've been incarcerated for almost five years and it was hard for me to adjust to an existence of no sex. Don't get me wrong; sex happens with more frequency than the damned radio around here, but it's not the kind I want. I got beat up a couple of times during my first few months but when I threatened to bite the first guy's dick, they all figured that I was crazy so they left me alone.

I have a nice body, long and lean, and my cock is one of the best features of my body. Want to hear about it? I'm sure you do ... I'm six-and-a-half inches, a conservative length, but the best thing, or should I say the thing I receive the most compliments about is, the head of my cock. My cock is kinda skinny but the head is fat! It's thick and round like a button mushroom and I'm sure would fit very neatly in your mouth.

I lay here and imagine what you look like. Short and stocky? Tall and lean? Not just your stature, but your dick. I have no preference as to top or bottom. I think that if I trusted you, that there would be no problem with which role I would fill. My secret wish is that we would share both roles. My only hope is that we would both be fulfilled.

Now that I have given you a little information about me, I will share a fantasy that I have been keeping inside since I've been here. I imagine that I will be in my cell, alone, reading letters that you've been kind enough to send me and one of the guards comes to my cell and lets me know that it's time for me to leave.

I box up m

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