Hotwife's Prison Fantasy

The prison loomed ahead. Its high concrete walls and razor sharp barbed wire had been a part of my life for the past six months, with another six to go. I'd been making the journey to see my husband Paul, who was serving twelve months for embezzlement, but I never brought our children with me.

Each visit felt like a step into a world I didn't understand, I didn't want to understand. It was a dark place full with cold stares and whispered threats. But today was different. Today, something felt eerie and dangerous, making my skin prickle with unease, particularly as I approached the gates.

I'd seen him before, the prison officer with the sharp eyes, eyes that lingered a little too long on my heavy chest when he examined my I. D. Officer McKay, his name badge read. He was tall, late thirties, with a lean build and a smile that always made me nervous.

After spending time with my husband, trying to appear strong for him, and ignore the stares and leers from nearby inmates, I gave him a hug, and a long kiss on the lips before being ordered to leave. Visiting time was over for another day. Six months to go, I reminded myself, counting down the days.

As I left the visiting room and made my way towards the gates of freedom or hell, depending what direction you were travelling in, Officer McKay pulled me aside, speaking in a low but deep, serious voice.

"It's Jemma, right?" he asked.

"Yes, you know it is," I muttered, intimidated by him standing over me. "You've checked my I. D enough times."

"We need to talk," he said, watching the other visitors leave the premises.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice shaking, fearing he was planning to search me for drugs he knew I didn't have on my person.

His gaze was intense, his smirk almost predatory as he continued to stand over me, trying to intimidate me further, I felt. "Your husband has a target on his back," he said nonchalantly. "A few inmates think he's snitching on them to the warden."

My stomach dropped. "But Paul wouldn't snitch," I replied, defending my husbands honour. "He knows snitches get stitches in prison."

"Maybe so," Officer McKay shrugged. "But when inmates think somebody is a rat... there's only ever going to be one outcome."

"Why are you telling me this? Have you told the warden?" I began to panic, looking back at the prison, getting ready to go back in.

Officer McKay smirked, his eyes roaming over my breasts filling the fabric of my tailored blouse, then down my pencil skirt, tights, and high heels, before staring into my panic stricken blue eyes.

"Your husband is ok for now. But these men are not patient, despite having years left on their sentences." Officer McKay paused, letting the threat to my husbands safety embed itself into my mind. "But you can help him."

"Me?" I frowned, perplexed. "How?"

"You're a sexy woman, Jemma," he grinned. "Men like sexy women like you, especially the men behind these walls."

My mind raced. This couldn't be happening, I thought, panicking inwardly. "What are you asking of me?" I murmured in fear.

Officer McKay's grin widened. "Be here on Saturday at midnight," he replied, triggering a surge of anxiety.

"I can't," I protested. "I have two young children to look after."

"Then I suggest you find a babysitter, Jemma, or your husband might just..."

"Ok! Ok!" I snapped. "I get it. I'll be here on Saturday at midnight."

"Good," he nodded. "Don't be a minute early or a minute late, and wear something nice... something sexy. Imagine you're going out on the town for a few drinks."

"And if I don't?" I gulped.

His expression hardened. "Your husbands safety is in your hands. It's a simple as that. I strongly advise you do it. Now, enjoy the rest of your day," he smiled arrogantly.

By the time I reached my car, my knees were weak and my mind was a whirlwind of fear and desperation. I couldn't let Paul get hurt. But the thought of what Officer McKay was asking me to do, what would happen to me if I turned up wearing something sexy, churned my stomach until I felt sick. As a line manager, I'd always been the one in control. I was cornered, trapped... damn powerless.

The nights leading up to Saturday, I barely slept. I experienced every negative emotion imaginable while going through the motions at work. My mind was constantly drifting to the thought of going back to the prison after dark. I knew I wouldn't get to see my husband, who's face haunted me. He'd always kept me and the children safe. I knew I couldn't let him down. But at what cost?

Saturday arrived, and with it, came a storm of more horrendous anxiety. The children were staying with my parents, leaving me alone inside the house, stood in front of my bedroom mirror, my reflection staring back at me with wide, uncertain eyes. I'd chosen a mid-thigh, black dress that hugged my curves and plunged enough to be daring.

My long, brown hair fell around my shoulders, silky smooth after a shower, and I'd applied makeup that belied the turmoil inside me. I looked every inch the confident woman I'd always been, but beneath the surface, I was hanging by a thread. I just had to keep thinking about my husbands safety.

The drive to the prison felt endless, each mile stretching my resolve thinner. When I arrived, I stepped out of my car and pulled a long, warm coat on. The area, including the prison, was dark and silent, foreboding. My hands trembled as I clutched the strap of my purse and walked towards the gates, inhaling deep breaths and then exhaling slowly, wishing I was anywhere but there.

Officer McKay was waiting for me. "Right on time," he said. "Follow me," he then urged, void of any decent human emotion.

He led me into the prison and along a darkened corridor. The only sound was my high heels striking the floor and echoing off the walls. My heart pounded with each step, a reminder of the choice I'd made. What choice? Do whatever this was or... it didn't bare thinking about. I wasn't going to let a gang of thugs harm my husband or worse.

We stopped at a door with no window, just a plain metal surface. Officer McKay opened it with a key and without saying a word, then gestured me inside with a nod of his head. The room was sparse and terrifying. It only had a dirty mattress on the floor and a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. I shivered once, then twice, when the door slammed shut, leaving me alone in silence. I stood fearful, my eyes fixed on the door, my mind racing with trepidation of the unknown.

A few minutes later, the door opened again, and in they came. Five of them, inmates clad in prison clothing, with hard eyes and devious smiles. I gulped nervously as they surrounded me, their gazes skirting up and down, examining every inch of me like predators eyeing up their prey. I froze in the middle of them, helpless and powerless.

"Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes," one of them said, his voice rough with desire.

"She's even prettier when she's scared," another chuckled sinisterly.

"Take off the coat, Jemma," a third snarled. Oh my God, they know my name, I trembled. "We ain't gonna hurt you... we're just going have a little fun with you."

"McKay wasn't kidding," a fourth brute said, stepping forward, tracing a finger down my cheek. "You're perfect. Now, take off the coat."

I swallowed hard, unable to stop my body from trembling. But this had to happen, I told myself, for my husbands safety. I closed my eyes and removed my coat, jolting when one of them snatched it from me. Then the room filled with their murmurs of lust and desire, as they devoured me with their eyes.

"Now, that is a hot piece of ass."

"Mmm, look at those big titties, demanding attention."

"Where to start?" one of them chuckled.

"God, I haven't smelt a woman that good in years," another groaned.

"I'm done with the foreplay," the only man to have not said anything yet finally spoke.

Then they were on me like a pack of hyenas, hands everywhere, rough and insistent, pulling the dress from my body, discarding it somewhere inside the room. Off went my bra and down went my knickers, leaving me in the middle of them in just my high heels. I screeched and protested, but only meekly, as they stripped me naked and groped my body, grabbing my arse and breasts, sucking on my neck and nipples like vampires.

"Get her on her knees, I got something that needs sucking," someone spat.

The air suddenly thickened with their anticipation as they pressed me down onto my knees, hands on my shoulders, hands squeezing my heavy breasts, fingers twisting my nipples harshly. The five inmates surrounded me in a circle, removing their light blue shirts, and revealing an array of in-shape and out-of-shape bodies.

They then unzipped their navy blue prison trousers and produced an array of hardening cocks. My blue eyes darted around them all, causing a strange mix of fear and excitement. I was confused, but I knew exactly what was expected of me.

"Get sucking, bitch, we ain't got all night," one of them demanded.

I took a deep breath and nodded my compliance, parting my lips as I exhaled and leaned forward. The first cock was thrust into my mouth, thick and warm, the salty taste of pre-cum coating my tongue. As I began to bob my head, I was suddenly pulled back and presented to the next cock in the circle. My hands were guided to two others, and then the night truly began.

Passed from cock to cock, I couldn't keep up, as my face was repeatedly fucked by savages. The inmates groaned, using my hands and mouth at will, while my breasts were grabbed, squeezed and slapped. It was relentless, making me question how on earth I was going to get through the night.

"You got skills, bitch," the one who's cock I was sucking to the back of my throat hissed.

"Alright, get her on the mattress. I need to empty my nuts inside this sluts married cunt," someone said, his voice gravelly and angry.

Two of them grabbed my arms and threw me onto the dirty mattress. I wondered how many innocent women had suffered this fate before me, and how many would follow after me, as one of the inmates invaded my mouth with his tongue, with lust that was both scary and exhilarating. Another knelt between my legs, his fingers exploring me.

"A nice little bush you got there. Mmm, and soaking," he groaned. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he chuckled.

I closed my eyes and bit my lip, trying to deny my arousal. But his fingers slid inside me effortlessly, forcing me to emit soft sounds of pleasure. The other inmates laughed, accusing me of being a slut like all the other sex-starved wives and girlfriends who visited their men in prison. Then the one fingering me pulled his trousers down.

"Keep her spread," he ordered, positioning himself between my legs as two others grabbed my ankles and held me open.

"God help me," I muttered, closing my eyes in preparation to get fucked.

"Relax," he breathed, his hands gripping my hips. "We're not gonna kill you... we're not even gonna hurt... we're just gonna take it in turns to fuck you," he warned, thrusting his thickness into my involuntary wetness.

The power and weight of his thrust teared right through me. I cried out, my nails digging into the mattress, but he didn't stop. He was only just getting started. His hips jerked and his brow perspired as he pushed deeper into me, stretching my walls, which had only felt a dildo these past six months.

As I began to arch my back, moaning, someone knelt beside my head and shoved his cock inside my mouth. I gagged as he thrust into my throat, then groaned when the other one thrust into my pussy. I was trapped, a sex slave for their primal needs.

For the next twenty minutes, I was used by all five of them on the mattress. They swapped around, taking it in turns as promised, each filling my mouth and pussy with their hard cocks, but stopping short of climaxing. I was used, but my body undeniably enjoyed it, as my pussy clenched around every cock while I sucked another.

The entire time, it felt like I was being torn apart, but their roughness, even the inmates groping my breasts, wasn't violent or painful, it was dirty and intoxicating, as they stretched me to my limits. There was a strange pleasure in it, a raw, carnal sensation that was overwhelming, making me need to climax. God knows I was close.

"Fuck me harder!" I urged, when the cock in my mouth was pulled out. "Make me cum!"

"Fuck yeah!" someone hollered. "The bitch wants it now! Give it to her. Make her scream."

"Mmm, you dirty little whore," another groaned, kneeling beside my head, thrusting his cock into my mouth as he squeezed a breast.

"Oh, fuck this bitch is tight!" the inmate between my legs roared, his hips stuttering as he finally reached his climax.

I felt him pulsing deep inside me, ejaculating his cum into my pussy. I moaned around the cock in my mouth, flicking my hips as my womb was filled me with everything the inmate had in his balls. Then the one in my mouth pulled out, his cum splattering across my face and in my hair, dripping down onto the mattress, adding to the stains that were already ingrained into the worn fabric.

But there was no time to recover. The inmates swapped around again. Two of them grabbed and flipped me over onto all fours, then positioned themselves on their knees at either end of the mattress. My eyes widened as I realised their intentions. I was going to be spit roasted for the first time.

"Ready for me again, slut?" the one behind me asked, his voice hoarse.

I ignored him as a thick cock slapped across my cum soaked face, and rubbed around my panting mouth. Then the inmate behind me pushed his cock into my cum filled hole, thrusting himself deep. I gasped, forcing my mouth to open wide. The cock hitting my face went in, right to the back of my throat in a prison spit roast. Only I wasn't an inmate. I was a guest, being stretched to my limits again, fucked and used with abandon.

"You can visit us again, Jemma," the inmate pounding my pussy groaned, his cock slamming against my cervix.

"Yeah, you can be our regular big-titted whore," the inmate fucking my mouth grunted, his hands holding my head up by my hair, while his hips drove his cock down my throat. I could feel the weight of my breasts hanging from my body, swinging heavily.

My moans were muffled, my body a battleground of emotions and sensations, as I was stretched and utterly dominated. My pussy continued to clench around the cock ploughing me from behind, my walls slick with the first inmates cum and my own juices. The two inmates using me were just as relentless as before, nearing their climaxes.

My body was literally on the brink of exploding, my senses were overloaded by the intensity of the experience. I could feel their cocks throbbing, their sperm building up inside them. Then, with a final, brutal thrust, the inmate behind me became the third to ejaculate, and the second to do so inside my pussy. As he added his load to my womb, my body finally convulsed in orgasm.

"Open your eyes, slut!" The inmate in front of me demanded, pulling his cock out of my mouth.

I obeyed, my eyes meeting his as he came, his warm cum covering my face, sticking to my long eye lashes, some of it landing inside my mouth and on my tongue. It tasted so salty, and there was so much of the stuff, clearly he'd been building it up. But it was three down and two to go, I told myself. You're almost there, Jemma, almost there.

I was flipped over onto my back again, my face plastered in semen, with more running out of my pussy, as a fourth inmate raised my legs onto his shoulders and positioned his cock. The fifth one stood to the side, stroking his erection, grinning down at me.

"Ready for another load," the inmate about to fuck me snarled.

I nodded, breathing heavily, then he thrust into me and grabbed my breasts. As if I were a piece of meat, which I essentially was, he fucked me hard, fast and deep, my high heels flickering in the air above his head, our grunts and groans filling the room, while he filled me with his throbbing cock, repeatedly. His eyes were dark, his body language full with pent up aggression.

"Fuck, this bitch is still tight," he spat. "I hope I'm the one who knocks you up, too. Take it, you hot little slut! Ohhh, fuck!"

"Yes! Give it to me!" I betrayed my husband, who was no doubt tucked up in his miserable prison cell, sleeping on his measly bed, unaware of what his wife was doing.

As the rough and ready inmate slammed into me, balls deep, pressing them against my buttocks, I felt him twitch violently before I exploded in orgasm again, joining him in ecstasy. When he pulled out, the fifth one replaced him. The same thing. He put my legs on his shoulders, entered me hard, and grabbed my breasts, ready to fuck my brains out, which he did until he came.

When my ordeal was over, the inmates put their prison clothes back on and left the room. Not a word of praise or thanks, not even derogatory, actually. They simply left me lying exhausted, broken, but satisfied on the mattress. The "wives mattress" I later learned it was called. Officer McKay took great pleasure in telling me that, after he forced me to suck him to completion.

He then took me to a nearby bathroom, where I was allowed to clean up and put my clothes back on, all while he stood watching me with a conquering smile on his face, knowing his salty load was inside my tummy. I turned to him as I buttoned up my coat, looking reasonably respectable under the circumstances of what I'd just gone through.

"Will my husband be safe now?" I asked him.

Officer McKay smirked. "He was never in danger in the first place. You just looked like you needed a good time."

"What? You bastard!" I screamed at him.

"Yeah, and you're a slut! By the way, I received word from the warden this morning. Your husband is one of the low risk prisoners up for early release. So, this time next week, you'll both be nice and warm in your bed."

Speechless, I was escorted out of the prison in silence, and under darkness. I thought about a lot in that short space of time, until we reached the gates. Officer McKay and those inmates had taken more than my body, they'd taken a piece of my soul, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever get it back.

"Enjoy the rest of your life, Jemma, and make sure your husband stays out of trouble when he gets released... and you, of course," Officer McKay chuckled.

"You have my personal details on file, yes?" I asked him, knowing the prison did.

"Um... yes. As the next of kin," he replied, looking puzzled now.

"Next time you need a woman to entertain the inmates, give me a call... discreetly of course," I winked then returned to my car.