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I stalk the mailroom, waiting for the new inmate who works there, who’s name I still don’t know, to head to the bathroom. And the second he does I move toward the incoming mail pile.
Moving fast I see it, but then again how could I miss it? It’s bright pink and addressed just as it was last time. Just as I asked.
I grab the envelope and slide it into my trousers. Seeing that we don’t have a way to fasten our trousers, as belts or shoelaces could be used as weapons, it doesn’t want to stay put. I shuffle sideways out of the mailroom and bump square into the new guy.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Just went to ask you a question, but you weren’t there.”
“Well, I’m here now,” he says suspiciously. “What do you need?”
“Just wanted to know if you needed any help sorting the mail.”
“How about you worry about your business and I’ll worry about mine…,” he says, letting his sentence trail off as he waits for me to say my name, which I don’t. I turn on a heel and get out of the area as regularly as I can if you can consider it regular that my heart is thumping wildly in my chest and the rush of having received another letter from Josi has me head sprung.
I move into the bathrooms, sitting down in one of the stalls, which unfortunately don’t have doors, but our cells are closed right now so it’s all I’ve got.
Bringing the letter up to my face I inhale deeply, taking in her scent again and my cock immediately springs to life.
Hi James!
Wow…what a surprise receiving a letter from you. Thank you so much. :)
I have to admit, I Googled you and your case and it does seem like you didn’t get much of a fair trial. I’m sorry about that. You mentioned that you don’t have many friends, like me, so we can be friends. :) If you need me to try and help with something I can and will. I have time and even if I was busy I would make some for you.
A bit more about me. I’m still trying to figure out if I’m going to go to college and where. My parents are really pressing me, but I just don’t feel like it would be right for me. My stepdad wants me out of the house, and my mom is taking his side. I know they want me to ‘grow up and be an adult’, their words, not mine, but I feel like this is more just them trying to get rid of me. I also know my stepdad doesn’t want kids, as he’s made that very clear. In his eyes, he doesn’t have any right now because I don’t count, because he isn’t my biological father. Sorry if I sound like I’m throwing a pity party, it’s just that this is what I’m reminded of on a daily basis and it permeates my thoughts.
I don’t feel like it would be any better if I went off to school. What can a boy my age offer me? Keg stands, hangovers, and a lack of maturity? No thanks. Maybe there’s no hope for me! Hahaha
I wish I could meet you in person one day and tell you how sorry I am about the hand life’s dealt you. When I think about my ‘troubles’ they pale in comparison to yours. I know I can learn a lot about life just by the way you’ve handled yours. I was amazed when I read you turned down plea deals for confessions, that you had principles and would rather live with a free mind and an incarcerated body than a free body and an incarcerated mind, having agreed to plead guilty just to get back into society…the same society that failed you.
In a very small way, in comparison to you, I feel the same way. Nothing makes sense for me in the world. I just wish we could hug and realize that maybe there is someone that understands us, gets us so to speak, even if our lives are so very, very different. Then again, we’re all people and all humans so surely we share some common experiences.
I hear my stepdad yelling for me now so I better run. I’d rather send you this now, today, and get it to you faster rather than take more time and send it in a few days. It’s just me writing a stream of consciousness, but doing so really relaxes me. I feel like ‘talking’ to you is very therapeutic. Maybe it’s because we’re not face-to-face, although I have this strange feeling that one day we will be.
Uhhhh! My stepdad is yelling again. I really have to go this time. I wish I had a real dad, someone who understood me and wasn’t so critical of everything I always do. Have you ever considered being a Daddy?
XOXO,
Josi
I barely get my trousers down in time before I explode, my body twisting as I shoot a hot load against the bathroom wall. This girl’s words caused me to climax. I didn’t even know something like that was humanly possible.
Then again it wasn’t exactly her words, but that one single word.
Daddy.
Each time I’ve read one of her two letters, and I’ve reread the first damn near what must be fifty times now, that word completely fills every part of me.
I want to be there for her. I want to stand up to her stepdad for her, show him he doesn’t even realize the treasure he has in front of his very own eyes and then punch him right in the eye for all the trouble he’s given her. And then throw her over my shoulder and take her from there, forever.
The craziest part about it all is that it is a possibility, but I’d have to compromise the one thing she commended me on in order to make it happen.
But she’s the one who’s making everything happen, this complete transformation within me.
Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks because this one sure feels young again every time I think of her.
My little girl.
