A Prison Experience

All characters are 18+

I made some bad decisions when I was a teen, and it subsequently ended in a miserable period of time behind bars. I say bars, but juvenile detention centres are a walk in the park compared to the horrors of adult prison.

On the week of my eighteenth birthday, I had one year left of my sentence. Five of us sat in a room awaiting our fates. We'd either be sent to an adult prison to carry out the rest, or we'd be released, and almost every time this happened, the result was early release, so I was all set and ready to go, when my case worker informed me that I'd be moved to the adult prison to serve the rest of my sentence.

I was devastated. I'd already spent two years locked up and had genuinely learned my lesson, but tears were weak, and we'd heard the stories about being weak in prison. Myself and another young man named Mitchell were the only two in the room who weren't getting released, and they moved us quickly.

Mitchell and I hadn't really seen eye to eye in our time together. His crime was a lot more violent than mine, and he as a person was the same. He had short blonde hair, but kept the top long. He was slightly taller than me, and had a decent body even before juvie. I had to work hard in the gym for that.

I'd grown up relatively comfortable, which made me the odd one out in prison, but Mitchell seemed to fit right in. The first night we arrived, we were assigned our cell and thankfully they decided that two fresh faced teen boys were safer together than they were bunking with hardened criminals, and so we became cell mates.

The inmates were mostly quite nice, which was certainly a relief, but the differences between juvie and prison were stark. Privacy was the most notable difference, or lack thereof. In juvie, each room housed two lads, but we had our own private bathrooms which naturally, came in very useful. In this particular prison, thirty seven inmates shared one communal shower, and the toilet was a tin can facing the door. We became used to nudity very, very quickly.

Before prison, I'd been a ladies man, or a ladies boy anyway. I was quite handsome, if I did say so myself, and had never struggled to get the attention I wanted and needed. Like everyone, I'd heard the stories about prison, but so far, my hand had become my best friend, and that's all that I really needed.

Mitchell jerked off more times a day than I thought humanly possible. He had the bottom bunk, which meant that unless I wanted to sit there and watch as he cranked out wank after wank, I'd have to get onto my bed and wait until he was finished. Unfortunately, the stench of teenage cum would drift upwards anyway.

Jerking off wasn't actually allowed though, and so on more than one occasion Mitchell was caught by a C.O and give a stern talking to. It never seemed to bother him though.

I'd wait until late at night when he'd fall asleep. It was difficult to have a fulfilling orgasm when the beds were cheap and creaked in the night, and at any moment you could be caught and reprimanded, but I made it work.

Up until that point, I had never even considered myself anything other than a straight man. I wasn't against gay people, it just never really crossed my mind. The equation was simple, girls made my dick hard, guys didn't. Or so I thought.

I was sitting at the desk mindlessly doodling. I could spend hours doing it, but not when Mitchell lay with his pants around his knees and his hand furiously tugging himself just feet from me. I tried to ignore him. It usually took him less than five minutes to squirt all over his abs, but that day he seemed to struggle.

After ten minutes of constant jerking, I glanced over at him somewhat irritated. He exhaled violently and lay back, defeated. His cock was a decent size, but that's the only thing that struck me about it. It looked to be around seven inches, which was certainly and inch or more bigger than mine.

"What?" I asked him as he lay breathless and frustrated.

"I can't cum" he told me, "I've been trying for ages".

"I've noticed" I replied.

"My arm is fucking killing me" he explained, and I returned to doodling.

I didn't think anything of it. He was simply telling me, until he continued and my eyes widened.

"Can you give me a hand?" He asked me, and I laughed loudly.

"Get fucked, bro"

"Please?"

I stared back at him. Surely he wasn't serious? Yet his face remained blank, but pleading.

"You're joking?" I asked, feeling my heart beat a little faster when he shook his head.

"Don't let any of the others hear that shit" I growled, "they'll definitely help you out".

"Dude, please?" He pressed, "I can't go this long without busting a nut".

I'll spare you the back and forth conversation that ensued, in which I questioned his sanity on more than one occasion, because finally I sighed and sat back.

"You really are serious" I said, and he nodded.

Perhaps it was the setting. Two hormone riddled young men, caged together for months with nothing to do but doodle and wank, or perhaps it was my own secret curiosity. One that I didn't even know myself.

I sat down on the edge of his bed and he wrapped his fingers behind his head and lay back. His dick was rubbed raw and red from where he'd been tugging it, but a thin line of pre-cum linked his pink helmet to his hairy crotch.

"This is insane" I sighed to myself, and reached for his dick.

It felt strange, yet nice. I couldn't explain it. Holding Mitchell's cock in my hand made me feel powerful, and I guess I was powerful. He gasped and groaned as I wanked him, and before long, beads of clear fluid were trailing down my knuckles, and the sound of squelching filled the cell.

It took less than five minutes before Mitchell moaned into his fist, closed his eyes tight and unleashed rope after rope of thick, creamy sperm onto his bare torso. I watched it with a curious awe. Seeing him orgasm was doing something to me. And I liked it.

I wiped his seed from my hand on his own trousers and went back to the desk. Mitchell lay there breathless for a moment before finally pulling his pants back up.

"Thanks man" he breathed, "I owe you one".