The Greatest Lie Part 19

"It looks the same as a real one. What happened to your bush."

"I had it removed. Don't you like it that way?"

"Yeah, it's like a little girl's pussy. I love to fuck the young ones." He probed me with two fingers, but I was dry, and they entered only to his first knuckle.

I looked back at him. He kneeled behind, grunting me like a rutting pig. I covered my pussy with my hand. "Do you have any lube or condoms? They confiscated mine"

"They don't provide rubbers or lube in here, you dumb cunt. And I'm not worried, you look like you're clean. And as for me, I always say, it's better to give than receive."

I knelt, elbows and knees on the stiff sheets. The air conditioner clanked, billowing dank moldy zephyrs into the gloom. Miguel laughed, spit on my labia, dampened his cock with the spatter of saliva, and forced his cock into me.

Despite the theatrical blow job, I had not truly become aroused by blowing Miguel, and my bad day had left me tense and anxious. His cock wouldn't enter me.

I spit on my own fingers, drizzled on my labia and pulled them aside.

He rammed me to the hilt in three strokes. My pussy flesh rippled open, and although synapses protested the abrupt intrusion, my will overcame my body's outrage. My life depended on my performance, so I forced myself into full method acting mode.

I gazed back over my shoulder and let my face flicker with a montage of emotions. Fear, hopelessness, subjugation, hope, joy, anguish, adulation, abjection. I flung my body back against his thrust. My vagina yielded when he lunged inward, and clung to him as he withdrew. He fucked me like a barbarian. I fucked back like a porn star. But mine was a photo-shoot performance. Moans and groans are not part of prison sex.

Endurance is not valued either. He finished his act in less than a minute. A dozen hot squirts of semen suffused my inner spaces. I sighed and collapsed to the mattress, trying to fight my fear of infection and my growing paranoia.