Terry -part 11

Although Terry had changed little physically since I'd seen him last, he looked terrible.  His eyebrows, pushed forward and lowered, hooded his eyes as if he were trying to hide behind them-as if he could hide himself from the world.  The first words he spoke were, "He raped me, Lyons." Then, as if a dam broke with those words, the rest flooded from his mouth.   "Snyder raped me.  Over and over-almost every night while I was in isolation-he raped me.  There was nothing I could do, Lyons.  I was shackled.  I tried to fight him, but, whenever I did, he hurt me.  God, he hurt me, Lyons.  Harris was right.  Snyder loves to hurt.  I think that he likes that more than the sex.  Even when I didn't fight him, he still hurt me-just not quite so bad.

Terry began sobbing.  Looking closer, I saw that he was covered in bruises-and his balls were red and swollen.  I stepped toward him, wanting to put my arms around him to comfort him, but he screamed, "No, don't touch me.  Snyder told me about how you had fucked Harris.  You and Harris might be queer, but I'm not.  I couldn't stop Snyder from fucking me-but that doesn't mean that I liked it.  I hated it.  I hate Snyder.  I hate all you fucking queers."

Stopped-hurt by his words-I lowered my arms.  There was no more hiding what I was.  "I guess that I'm queer, Terry.  I didn't know that I was-but I guess it explains the feelings that I've always had-feelings that I could never understand.  But, that doesn't mean that I'm like Snyder.  I love you, Terry.  I've always loved you-from the first moment that I saw you."

"Yeah, you just want sex from me.  You want to fuck me-or have me fuck you.  You want to suck my cock."

"You're right.  I want to suck your cock-but not for the reasons you think.

"What reasons could there be-other than that you're a pervert who likes to suck guys' cocks?"

I hated the way Terry was looking at me-as if I were an alien from another planet.  "I don't know if I can explain it to you, Terry.  I don't really fully understand it, yet, myself.  Until we came to this awful place, I thought I hated queers.  I certainly never thought that I was one."

"Are you saying that  being at the Walls made you queer?" 

Terry seemed to look inward when he asked that, as if fearing that the Walls would cause him to become queer.  Partly to reassure him and partly to confirm the truth as I knew it, I said, "No, I was queer before I came to the Walls.  I just didn't know it-or, at least, wouldn't admit it to myself before coming to the Walls."

"Did you like fucking Harris?  Was it better than fucking a girl?"

"I don't know what it's like to fuck a girl.  I've never even come close-but I didn't just fuck Harris.  I made love to him."

"So, Snyder wasn't lying?  You did fuck him.  What do you mean you made love to him?  You were just a couple of queers fucking each other in the ass."

"It was more than that.  I wasn't just trying to get off.  I wanted to please Harris.  That was more important to me than my own pleasure."

"How could you satisfy Harris?  He doesn't have any balls.  How could he get off?"

"I don't know-but he did."

His curiosity apparently overcoming his revulsion,  Terry said  "You mean he shot his wad when you fucked him?"

"Not when I fucked him, and not like you or I would.  Just a little clear fluid leaked out of his cock-but he climaxed.  There was no doubt about that."

"So, just because you made him climax, it was making love instead of fucking?"

"No, it was making love because we were each more concerned about giving rather than getting pleasure.  It was making love because-for a moment-I couldn't tell where Harris left off and I began.  If I want to suck your cock, that would be the reason-to give you pleasure-to somehow share the closeness with you that I felt with Harris.  I love you, Terry.  I would never do anything to hurt you.  I would die for you."

"I don't really hate you, Lyons.  Hell, you're the only friend that I  have in this place.  I was so lonely and scared without you-just don't touch me-OK?  After Snyder, I can't stand the idea of having another guy touch me."

Our discussion about my having sex with Harris had made me curious about him.  "How is Harris?  Have you seen him?"

"Harris is gone."

"Gone?  What do you mean, gone?"

"They had his trial."

I learned that, while I was in the infirmary, Harris had been tried, convicted and sentenced.  It had only taken two days-one day for the trial and one for the sentencing hearing.  After Harris had rejected the plea bargain that would have given him life without parole, his court appointed attorney had put on a perfunctory defense.  It didn't matter that O'Leary had cut off his balls-that O'Leary had routinely raped him.  Harris hadn't even been allowed to bring it up in his defense.  Because he hadn't been in immediate danger of attack from O'Leary when Harris had killed him and because Harris had planned the murder, he hadn't been able to use self defense as an excuse.  All that mattered was that he had killed another convict with premeditation.  Since he had refused the plea bargain, he had been sentenced to death.  He had been moved to death row at the Polunsky Unit the next day.  Suddenly, I missed Harris.  I realized that I did love Harris-maybe not with the intensity with which I loved Terry, but I loved him.   I thought that I'd never see him again.  I was wrong, but I didn't know it at the time.

Cradling my face in my arms, I sat down on Terry's bunk and began crying softly-not only for Harris, but for Terry and myself.  I desperately wanted Terry to come over to me, to have him put his arm around my shoulder, to have him comfort me, as I had wanted to comfort him-but he didn't, so I remained on the bed quietly sobbing.  I glanced up when I felt Terry sit down, but he had sat down on the far end of the bed-well beyond my reach. 

Thinking about Harris, I'd forgotten about Snyder.  Tonight he would not only have Terry to molest, but me as well.  "Do you think that Snyder will come in tonight?" I asked.

"No, he's off tonight and tomorrow.  I keep track of the days.  The next two are his days off."

Seeing Terry-naked in shackles-huddled at the end of the bed, I took off my shirt and draped it over his shoulders.  Although he couldn't slip his shackled arms into the shirt sleeves, I think he appreciated having the shirt.  It's difficult to maintain one's dignity when naked, especially when others are clothed.  Although the guards claimed that we were required to strip to maintain security, I think that they enjoyed robbing us of our dignity.

Later, Terry told me about what had happened to him while he was in isolation:

Like me, he had been thrown into the cell without a shower, his skin still burning from the gas-even though the guards are supposed to shower us after gassing us.  If one hasn't been gassed, he can't know how it feels-or why it is so effective.  It causes an intense burning-as if one's skin is on fire.  All you want-all you care about-is to have it stop.  Nothing else is important.  Then, to be thrown, naked and shackled, onto a bare concrete floor.  It's no wonder I had hallucinations-and Snyder hadn't come to my cell.

It wasn't until the second night that he had come to Terry.  By then, the gas had worn off, but Terry was naked, shackled, and lying on a cold concrete floor in the dark.  Once the door to the cell had been closed, there had been no light.

Terry had been awakened by the light being turned on.  After two days without light, the bare, sixty watt bulb had shone like the sun.  He had shaded his eyes while trying to see who was there, but, until Snyder had spoken, he hadn't known who it was.

"So, you thought you were getting away from me, did you?  I heard how you were excited about going to Connolly.  No Connolly for you, now.  You and your friends aren't going anywhere."

"Why not?  We didn't do anything."

"Didn't do anything?  Hell, you almost killed Duke."

"But, he was trying to kill Harris."

"Well, I guess you should have let him kill the little queer.  He's a dead man, anyway.  Now, you're in for it.  You're just lucky that Duke's got such a hard head that he didn't die."

"What are  they going to do to us?"

"Well, that depends on you."

"What do you mean?"

"If you're a good boy-and please me-then maybe I'll talk to some of  the guards so that they'll say that Duke started it."

"But, he did start it."

"Not according to my friends.  They said that you tackled him then the three of you began beating his head into the pavement.  Up until that time, he'd never touched any of you."

"But, he was running after Harris."

"None of the guards saw that-or they didn't unless I tell them that they did," said Snyder.

"What do you want from me?"

"You can start off by sucking my cock."

"I'm not queer.  I don't suck cocks."

"Don't give me that.  I saw you and your friend in bed together."

"We were just scared.  We didn't do anything.  We're not queer."

Snyder laughed.  "Don't give me that shit.  I heard about how your friend fucked Harris when they were in the cell together.  I heard they couldn't get enough of each other."

Terry was shocked.  He'd seen me kiss Harris-and he'd always had some doubts about me-some concerns about the way I sometimes looked at him, but he had never thought that I was really queer.  "Jon fucked Harris?"

"Yeah, he even sucked the ball-less wonder's little cock."

"Jon may be queer, but I'm not."

"Hey-I don't care if you think you're queer or not.  You're still going to suck my cock."

"Like hell I am," answered Terry.

In response, Snyder rammed his baton into Terry's solar plexus.  Terry collapsed to the floor, unable to breathe.  Walking over to where Terry writhed on the floor, Snyder slammed his baton into Terry's balls.  "If you want to keep those, you'll do what I say-when I say.  I like it that Harris doesn't have balls.  You'd probably make a better punk without them, too."

Terry had been hit in the balls before-but never so hard, and never had it hurt so much.  Still unable to get his breath, he covered his balls with his hands, which were shackled in front.  Gingerly feeling them with his hand, he expected to find them ruptured, but, although the merest touch caused excruciating pain, they seemed to be intact.  Gasping, he said, "Not...sucking...cock."

Snyder began raining blows on Terry with his baton.  He knew where to hit to inflict the most pain while leaving  minimum marks-although there was no one to care-certainly not the other guards.  Terry withstood inordinate pain before his consciousness shut down to avoid feeling more.  When he awoke, Snyder was pulling up his pants and there was a new source of pain.  Snyder had fucked him then rammed his baton up Terry's ass.

"You had a tight ass, kid-but it's probably not so tight anymore.  You're going to learn to do what I want, or you're going to have a short, pain filled, life."

Snyder left him writhing in pain on the concrete floor-crying.  Although the pain he felt was reason enough to cry, he was crying because Snyder had fucked him.  He couldn't reconcile it with his concept of himself.  He'd sworn to kill himself rather than submit to rape, but, when it had happened, there had been nothing that he could have done-and there was nothing that he could do to stop it from happening again.  Shackled as he was, he couldn't even kill himself-and, even if he had the opportunity, Terry wasn't sure that he would be able to commit suicide.  His will to live was too strong-even here-even in the Walls Unit.

Snyder was back the next night.  Again, he told Terry to suck his cock-and beat Terry again when he refused, but quit before Terry lapsed into unconsciousness-so Terry was awake while he was being raped.  Terry was ashamed that he'd quit resisting, but he couldn't take more pain.

Terry lost all track of time.  There were no references for it in the dark cell.  Food was delivered once a day, but Terry suspected that even that was done randomly.  At times, his stomach told him that more than twenty-four hours had gone by since the last meal.  Even though he couldn't judge time, he realized that Snyder didn't come to him every night.  Knowing that Harris and I were also in isolation, Terry suspected that he was using us similarly.  As he later admitted, Snyder had also been molesting Harris, but he'd never come into my cell.  I might have even welcomed it.  Nothing Snyder could have done to me could have been as bad as the rats of my dreams.

On one visit, Snyder said, "Well, there's just you, now."

"What-what do you mean?" asked Terry.

"Your two friends are gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"Harris is on his way to death row.  He's got a date with the needle."  Gleefully, he told Terry the details of Harris' trial, telling him that he'd been sent to death row at the Polunsky Unit.  "But, he'll be back here-although you won't get to see him.  They'll stick the needle in him here at the Walls.   I'd like to see it.  I'd like to see the little faggot scream and plead for his life."

"What about Jon?" Terry asked.

"He's nutty as a fruitcake.  They've got him in the infirmary.  No one knows if he'll ever come out of it.  Many of them don't."

"What did you do to him?"

"I never touched the little creep.  He's nothing special-just another punk.  Besides, it didn't take him long to freak out.  When Rodgers went in his cell he was already screaming and covered in shit.  Besides, I don't like faggots, anyway."

"What about Harris?  You fucked Harris."

"Harris had no balls.  Fucking him was almost like fucking a girl."

"Why me, then?  I have balls."

"But, you're a pretty as a girl-and we might do something about your balls."

"But, you're queer.  You fuck guys."

Terry had almost lost his balls then.  Snyder had gone mad when had Terry called him queer, beating him so badly that Terry had been taken to the infirmary.  Terry had only been back in the cell for three days when I had returned.  Snyder had visited him the previous night.  Rodgers had made sure that Terry had been helpless-shackled and naked.  Snyder had fucked him, but hadn't hurt him as much as before.

"I want to die, Lyons  I can't go on like this.  Snyder's never going to leave me alone."

"But, they can't always keep us here.  Maybe they'll send us to Connolly, after all."

"Even if they sent us to Connolly, what makes you think it would be any different for me?  If it's not a guard, it'll be some prisoner.  I've seen how they look at me.  You've heard what they've said to me."

"I'm scared, too, Terry, but we can't give up."

"What the fuck do you know about it?  They don't look at you the way they do at me.  Snyder hasn't fucked you.  Besides, you're queer, anyway.  You'd probably like it."

"That's not fair.  Just because I'm queer, doesn't mean that I want to get raped.  Even if I like to have sex with other guys, I still want to be able to choose which guy.  If I know you, you wouldn't want to have sex with just any girl."

"At least, with a girl, I'd be the one that was doing the fucking.  Beats the hell out of having some guy's cock up my ass or in my mouth.  I could understand how you might have fucked Harris, but did you really suck his cock, too?"

"Yeah, I sucked his cock.  That's when he came."

"In your mouth?" Terry asked,  "You actually let him come in your mouth?"

"Yeah.  He didn't come much, though.  It wasn't like he shot a whole wad into my mouth.  It didn't really taste much like come."

"How would you know the taste of come?  Have you sucked cock before?"

"No, but I've tasted my own come-haven't you?"

"Hell no!  That's sick."

Despite his words, Terry's cock had become hard.  Mine was, too, but I had pants on.  Terry shifted the shirt so that it was covering his cock.  "Do you really want to suck my cock?" he asked.

Raising my eyes from his lap to his face, I nodded my head.

"Understand, that, if I let you suck my cock, it doesn't mean anything.  It doesn't mean that I love you-or anything else.  All it means is that I'm horny.  I haven't even jacked off since I've been here."

"I understand.  It doesn't mean anything."

"And, no kissing-or anything like that."

"OK," I answered.

"What do you want me to do, stand up so you can get down on your knees-or what?"

"No-just lie back on your bed."

Terry lay back on his bed, putting my shirt on the bed beside him, exposing his hard cock.  Despite all he had said about queers, despite what Snyder had done to him, he was aroused.  His cock was pulsating and pre-cum had already appeared at its tip.

I sat down at the end of the bed and then bent over placing one of my hands on Terry's thigh and the other on his cock.  Glancing up at his face, I saw that he was watching me with a strange look on his face.  I interpreted it as a mixture of arousal and revulsion, but I didn't know whether the revulsion was for me, a queer who was about to suck his cock, or for himself, who had asked me to do it.  I knew, once I had sucked his cock, our relationship would never again be the same.  I wasn't certain what it would become-although, I had no hope that we would experience what I had with Harris.  Terry was letting me suck his cock because he was horny and perhaps because he was curious as to what it would be like to have a guy suck his cock.  Terry was straight-but he was also seventeen-at the height of his sexuality.  He wouldn't be the first straight guy to have sex with another guy in prison. 

As I watched him, he glanced from my face to his cock.  Without his saying anything-knowing what he wanted-I took his cock into my mouth-first just the head-then all of his cock, letting it slide into my throat.  He moaned softly.  Raising my eyes, I saw that his eyes were closed and he seemed to be biting or sucking on his bottom lip.  I continued to bob my head over his cock, letting it slide out until only its head was in my mouth, then taking it all, letting it slide down my throat.

I loved the sensation of having his cock in my mouth-down my throat.  His cock was much larger than Harris' had been.  I gagged at times, but it didn't matter to me-and apparently not to Terry, because he soon came, shooting his hot come into my mouth.  The taste of it was different from that of Harris' come-and there was much more of it.  He filled my mouth with his come.  Surprising myself, I swallowed it all.  Harris hadn't come much, and the taste of his come had been rather neutral, so swallowing it had been little different from swallowing my own saliva.  Terry's come tasted like come.  I guess that it tasted like my own come, which, after jacking off, I had tasted, but that had been cold by the time I had put it into my mouth-and the guilt of eating my own come had nauseated me, so that I didn't think I would like the taste of come.  I loved the taste of Terry's.   I wanted every drop of the hot load he pumped into my mouth.

After his climax, Terry's cock began losing some of its rigidity, but, since I continued to lick its head, it soon became hard again.  Since Terry hadn't pushed me away, I took his cock back into my mouth.  Glancing up at his face, I saw that his eyes were still closed.  I imagined that, with his eyes closed, he could pretend that it was his girl friend, who had her mouth on his cock, instead of me.  I wondered if she had ever sucked it.

It took longer that time than before.  He even began thrusting his hips, ramming his cock into my mouth before he came; but, after he came, he pushed me away when I continued to lick his cock, saying, "That's enough."

Without saying anything else, he turned his head away-toward the wall, lying there, making no effort to cover himself.  The tumescence of his cock subsided as I watched and the vestiges of his climax-a last drop of come-seeped from it.

I went to the sink to wash my face.  Some of Terry's come had leaked onto it.  When I did, Terry spoke, "I can't believe that you really did that.  You actually sucked my cock.  You even swallowed my come."

"You knew I'd done it with Harris.  I've admitted to you that I'm queer.  You know I love you, more-and longer-than I've ever loved Harris.  Why should it surprise you that I would suck your cock?"

Terry didn't answer for a moment, then he said, "I guess that what really surprises me-is that I let you.  You know that, if we were still at home, you would never had the opportunity.  If you had even suggested that you wanted to suck my cock, I would have never had anything else to do with you."

"Don't you think I know that, Terry."

Angrily he answered, "You may be queer, but, just because I let you suck my cock-just because Snyder fucked me-doesn't mean that I'm queer."

"I know you're not, Terry."

He began crying.  "I couldn't stop Snyder from fucking me-but I didn't have to let you suck my cock-and I did."

His tears made me feel guilty.  I had wanted to suck his cock so badly that I hadn't thought about what it might do to his self esteem.  "I'm sorry.  I'll never ask you to let me do it again-but we're not at home, Terry.  We're here-in the Walls.  Do you really want to spend the next six years without the touch of another person-without any sexual contact?"

"But, I haven't even lasted a year.  We've been here for less than two months.  I'm afraid that I'll be queer by the time I leave this place-if I ever do."

Less than two months?  After being in isolation-and in the infirmary afterwards-I had lost all track of time.  If we'd been here for more than a month, I, as well as Terry, would have had my seventeenth birthday while at the Walls.  "What's the date?"

"What?"

"What's the date, Terry?"

"I don't know-October 15th or 16th I guess."

I had my birthday while in isolation.  The rats had been my present.  "I'm seventeen now."

"Yeah.  We've both had birthdays since we came here-Happy birthday," he said, sarcastically.

"Well, look at it this way, Terry.  You just gave me a birthday present-the only one that I'm going to get in here.  Don't beat yourself up.  Just tell yourself that you did it for me."

"But, what bothers me-is that I liked it.  It felt good.  That's what I feel so guilty about."

"You feel guilty because you're putting labels on it.  In your mind, you're calling it queer.  Why don't you look at it, instead, as me, your friend-someone who loves you-trying to do something for you-something that might give you pleasure.  Why should it matter that we're of the same sex.  The sharing-and the love-should be all that matters."

"It's still not...natural."

"Not natural?  Homosexuality is probably as old as the human race.  Cave men probably did it with each other when there were no women about-and probably with much less guilt than you're feeling right now."

Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of supper, which was the usual-peanut butter sandwiches and Koolaid. Neither of us attempted to resume it afterward.  I wanted to, but, since Terry's thoughts seemed to have turned inward, I didn't.  There were some magazines-mostly about sports-in the cell, so I climbed onto the top bunk and leafed through them until lights out.

Lying there in the dark, I replayed sucking Terry's cock in my mind, masturbating as stealthy as I could, so that Terry wouldn't know what I was doing-but, if he did, he'd had his climaxes-two of them-I hadn't.  I came onto the sheets, pumping my load onto them, leaving a wet spot, in which I lay while trying to fall asleep.  I could smell my come.  I wondered if he could, too.