"We're All Prisoners Now" -- A postapocalyptic prison story

[CutiePie1997]

"The Burbs" -- the former conjugal buildings

Daria's next stop was at the home of the Standish Family: Nigel, Gwen, and their 9yo fraternal twins, Holly and Polly. They, too, had had a set of bunkbeds delivered to them from the Communal General Population barracks for the children. Unlike the youngest two Alcott children, there was no fight between these two about who was taking the upper bunk as Polly had a fear of heights and wanted the bottom.

"There are some of those free-standing privacy walls in the corner of the conference room," Daria reminded Nigel. "You can use them to create a little bedroom for the kids if you want. They've been thoroughly sanitized."

When COVID-19 hit so badly in early 2020, almost 4 years before Daria became Warden, the walls had been ordered in to turn to prison's largest room into a makeshift infirmary, using the walls to create cubbies. Horrifically, they'd served more as temporary morgues than anything else. 90% of the men who'd entered the little rooms had died in them, only to be replaced with more infected.

No one ever thought that the prison would see anything like that again. Little could they have known that they'd see this.

"Nigel, I think Cooper's going to want to talk to you about joining the Security Team," Daria told the father and Trustee. "I saw in you record that you have military background. Would you be willing?"

She listened, then after Nigel departed, turned to his wife. "Gwen, I see that you grew up on a farm."

"Yes, I'd love to work your farm," Gwen said, anticipating the question. She went into all of the crops her family grew and animals they raised. "I took a peek outside earlier at the open space. There's plenty of land out there to grow a nice garden and have some goats and guinea pigs and--"

"Guinea pigs?" Daria asked, laughing. "For what? Eating?"

"Absolutely," Gwen said. "Guinea pigs, rabbits, goats, ducks geese, chickens. We'll want to look around for some dogs, too. What they generally call cattle dogs: Great Pyrenees, Anatolian Shepherd, Kuv, any of a number of Mastiffs, Akbash, Carpathian Shepherd. They're all great protectors of stock animals. We're gonna find a lot of them in yards or pens or animal shelters and pet stores. I just hope we get to them before they die for exposure, dehydration, starvation."

"Do we have to worry about them going feral?" Daria asked. She'd never owned a dog before as her parents had been cat people. "I mean, are we going to go out there and find packs of wild dogs running around eating corpses and attacking the rest of us, trying to turn us into corpses?"

"Probably," Gwen said honestly. "But most dogs like that are going to be penned. Some are going to be on chains, a horrible way to keep a dog. I'd never put a dog on a chain. It's just not right."

"I'll talk to Cooper about maybe going out beyond the fence earlier," Daria said. "We were talking about a couple of days from now--"

"No, no!" Gwen interrupted. "We need to go now! These animals are going be dying, if they aren't dead already."

"What about Rip and Pip?" one of the girls asked.

When Daria looked to her for explanation, Gwen grimaced. "The girls' guinea pigs." Whispering, she said, "They're dead by now, I'm sure. Nice thing is I know a guy who has hundreds of them running wild around his property. I'm sure we can find some that look like Rip and Pip."

"I'm assuming they weren't food?" Daria asked.

"Not those two," Gwen confirmed, "but the girls understand about eating them. They've ate them even. Peruvian Guinea Pigs. That's what's on that ranch I was telling you about. He's got rabbits, too, and I know a ranch with goats."

They talked more about it before Daria headed out.

 

[TiredFingers]

The Kitchen Storeroom

"Deal," Daria responded to Jackson's request for helpers in the kitchen. "And if you can handle working with children, I'm sure their mothers would want to bring them along. Not in the kitchen, though, some of them are old enough to help you there. I actually meant out in the garden, planting. But that's up to you. Not everyone's a kid person."

"I don't mind kids at all, Warden," Jackson told her, quickly correcting his own way, "Miss Daria. I'll teach them how to stir batter and lick off the spoons afterward. Send'em along."

Jackson went back to cooking. Breakfast had been a bit later than normal. He'd told Daria and Cooper that lunch would be at 1 pm. That only gave him 3 hours to make the main course, sides, and desserts.

Luckily, less than an hour after the facility's two leaders had left, his help arrived: Sammi Alcott and all three of her children, 13-year-old Connie, 11-year-old Freddie, and 6-year-old Willie. Jackson excitedly urged them all into the kitchen, saying, "Welcome, welcome, one and all. I am so happy to see you all."

Jackson and Sammi discussed what needed to be accomplished. They discussed what the children were experienced at. He was delighted to learn that they often helped prepare family meals and bake such treats as cookies, cakes, puddings, and more.

Soon, the family's members were getting to know the kitchen and its resources. One of the kids started humming, Jackson mistook the melody as being Working on the Chain Gang. He joined in, first humming, then singing. When the humming child asked him what he was singing, Jackson realized his error. He looked to Sammi, asking, "Do you mind if I teach them the song?"

She was okay with it, and soon he was teaching them the Sam Cooke classic. After that, the kitchen was filled with singing and laughing.

Then suddenly, the power went out. The kitchen was on the interior of the building and went pitch black. "It's just the power, kids. Don't panic. I give it four, three, two--"

On two, the emergency power reached them and turned everything back on. Jackson checked the ovens and cookers to ensure they were still on. He looked to Sammi. "This might be the last big meal we get to cook if the grid stays down, so whaddaya say we go nuts and cook like madmen?"


The Exercise Yard:

Nigel made his way for the doors to the exercise yard that would normally be locked and monitored, if not physically guarded by Screws. It felt so odd to have such freedom of movement. He felt as though any moment some CO was going to order him to take the position, putting him face down on the ground, arms and legs spread.

He ran into people, Trustees and Civilians both, who were carrying folding chairs from a rack out the door. He snatched one up without direction and followed. Outside he found Cooper standing in front of three conference tables arranged in a "C" shape under a large canvas tent. Atop it was a canvas bag. Nigel knew what was inside it: firearms and, presumably, ammo.

Cooper launched into a speech that covered several topics. It began with the trust that was being put in those assembled to handle firearms. After that, he began introducing them to the weapons on the table. One after another, Cooper retrieved a firearm, checked that it was in fact unloaded, described how it worked, then handed them out for each of the attendees to handle.

Several years earlier, the State had contracted with a distributor to provide all Corrections Facilities with firearms. The only pistol of significant number that they stocked was the Beretta 92FS 9mm. "This weapon has the lowest rate of jams of any pistol of its price range, so long as it is kept clean and maintained otherwise. The first lesson today will be how to disassemble and clean the Beretta. After that, we'll take a break for lunch, then come back out and learn to shoot the Beretta."

They spent two hours learning to disassemble, clean, and reassemble the pistols. They repeated the work. Then repeated it again. Cooper was a great firearms handling instructor. By the third time around, all 8 people present had the Beretta down.

While they'd been outside, the power had gone down, then up again. Cooper wouldn't have realized it had happened if the security alarms hadn't gone off. He wasn't too worried about it for the moment. They packed up the guns again and broke for lunch. Cooper asked the electrical contractor who'd gotten stuck inside WGCF, "Carl, can you go with me to check the emergency generator?"

It was working fine when they got there. But they noted that at the rate of fuel usage now, it would be out in a handful of days at the most. "We'll have to find some ways to conserve."

"What about solar panels?" Carl asked. "The prison ordered an entire trailer full of them to be put atop the main buildings."

"Where are they?" Cooper asked.

"In town, Marietta, I mean," Carl told him. "There's a warehouse there on 3rd Avenue. They were being held there cause the State hadn't paid the final portion of the tab, I guess. But it's all there. Everything we need. We just have to go get them."

It was definitely something worth speaking to Daria about at lunch.

 

[CutiePie1997]

The Exercise Yard:

Loretta James ambled out toward the gathering spot for those joining the Security Team, her hesitation coming from memories of long, long ago. The now-66-year-old had been one of the first American nurses in what had then been called South Vietnam, serving there from 1962-64. Her primary duty had been to train Vietnamese women and, to a lesser extent, men to be nurses.

On two separate occasions, Loretta had had to take up a firearm to defend either herself or others. The first incident hadn't resulted in her taking any lives, but the second had. She'd killed two attackers and injured another, ironically then turning around and saving the man's life.

The good thing to come from that second incident was that Loretta had met Ruth Simms, another American nurse who had arrived in Saigon just the day before. After Loretta had saved Ruth and several others, the two nurses would become friends, then lovers, then life partners. Ruth had had a son, Peter, who she'd left with her parents back in the States, and the two women would go on to raise Peter together once they returned to Illinois.

Peter would have a hard life, though, including alcohol, drugs, and criminal activity. The last one had resulted in him being incarcerated in WGCF. His relationship with his mother had waned, and while the two of them had written to one another weekly, they hadn't seen each other in more than 6 years.

Ruth had held something back from her son in her letters: her cancer diagnosis, nearly ten years earlier. She would eventually die by her own hands, swallowing a bottle of pills just two days before the virus exploded across Illinois, where the two women were still living.

Loretta, wanting to speak to Peter face to face, had flown to Atlanta just before the airports were essentially closed. She'd arranged to visit Peter, only to then be subjected to the lockdown like the others. By the time Warden Daria Howard had approached former-inmate-turned-Security Chief Cooper Thomas about the future for WGCF, Peter had succumbed to the virus and died. He'd slipped away never knowing the status of his mother, something that conflicted Loretta greatly.

Cooper was telling the group about the pistol he was demonstrating, "This weapon has the lowest rate of jams of any pistol of its price range, so long as it is kept clean and maintained otherwise. The first lesson today will be how to disassemble and clean the Beretta. After that, we'll take a break for lunch, then come back out and learn to shoot the Beretta."

Loretta hadn't brought a chair out with her, but others had brought spares, and Cooper gestured her to one, asking if she wanted to participate. She hesitated but eventually did sit down. Without waiting for further instructions, she broke the weapon down into its constituent parts with obvious skill and familiarity.

"I have one of my own back in Chicago," she told Cooper when he approached and studied her work. She put it back together in just over a minute, then began disassembling it again as she asked, "We need to clean these, right?" Loretta not only cleaned the one before her but cleaned two more and helped one of the men figure out why he couldn't get his back together.

When they were done and breaking for lunch, Loretta asked Cooper quietly, "Are we going to be allowed to take these back with us to our cells? Our homes, I mean."

Loretta was conflicted about the firearms because of her history with them, but at the same time she wanted to have one close to her. She was only alive today because an American serviceman had provided her with .45 caliber Colt M1911 for her safety when she'd been in Saigon. She wanted to have a similar weapon at hand now, too.

The power went off, and as they broke up, Loretta headed for the Kitchen thinking that maybe they might be having some problems there with the power outage.


The Kitchen:

Samantha "Sammi" Alcott was tickled pink with how all three of her children leapt into helping Jackson with preparing that day's lunch, as well as the desserts for lunch, dinner, and beyond. When the Trustee heard her youngest humming and mistook the melody as Sam Cooke's Working on the Chain Gang, then asked to teach the kids the words, she shrugged, saying, "I wouldn't mind learning the words myself."

They were all having a joyous time when the power went out momentarily. Sammi's heart leapt into her throat at the sudden plunge into near total darkness. She'd been trying to convince herself that she and her children had nothing to fear here in WGCF, but the sudden blackout caused her sudden and deep fear. She wanted to hurry to her children, gather them up, and get them out into the light, but the room was in nearly total blackness, and there were hot ovens and stovetops and other dangers representative of what was essentially a commercial-level kitchen.

"It's just the power, kids," Jackson said from a few yards away in the blackness. "Don't panic. I give it four, three, two--"

Suddenly, the lights were back, and Sammi immediately looked to each of her children to ensure that they weren't panicked. Instead, they just laughed, made ghostly sounds, and went back to work, once again singing.

"This might be the last big meal we get to cook if the grid stays down," Jackson warned, "so whaddaya say we go nuts and cook like madmen?"

Sammi suddenly felt foolish at her assumptions about the prison and about the inmate who she didn't know who'd just been in the dark with her and her children, one of whom was a beautiful thing just coming into her womanly curves. "Yes, yes, let's do it. Lead the way, Chef."

They continued onward as Loretta James entered, asking, "Can I help?"

Soon, Loretta was mixing up batter for cookies and singing along with the others as they leapt from one fun song to another.

 

[CutiePie1997]

Lunch, at 1pm on Day 4*

Daria watched the group moving through the chow line and taking seats in the chow hall, noticing that there was a little more mingling between civilians and inmates at this meal than there had been at the only just 5 hours earlier. She skipped filling a plate initially, instead just going for a cup of coffee as she took her place at the front of the hall to speak.

"As you all most certainly noticed," she began, "the electrical grid has gone down, for what reason we don't know, and we are now running on the backup diesel generator. Cooper and Carl tell me that we have enough fuel for maybe 5 days, so, here's the situation. First, we need to turn off anything and everything we don't need to power, to conserve fuel for the generator."

She began listing the various parts of the facility that were no longer being used or could be shut off from power. Then, she changed to a related subject. "Before the virus changed all of our lives, West Georgia had been preparing to add solar power to our electrical capabilities. Cooper and Carl tell me that the equipment, parts, tools, etcetera, are all in a warehouse in Marietta. That's just 30 miles from here.

"Cooper and I have talked, and we think that it isn't just a good idea but is a necessity to retrieve those things and set it up," Daria continued. She looked to the Standishes where they were sitting as a family. "I've also talked to Nigel and Gwen about the farm. Gwen worked for a feed and seed before all this, and she knows a couple of dozen places where we can get all we need for the farm and the ranch: seed and feed, obviously, but animals to raise for meat, animals to provide us milk and eggs, and much more."

She looked back to Cooper again, saying firmly, "So, what I need before we do all that is for Mister Thomas to have his people trained to protect us when we go out there. We need to go soon. Tomorrow, Cooper. Will we be ready?"

* Our calendar is going to be based upon the beginning of the lockdown for now. We will also insert an actual calendar date at some time. Currently, we are in about early April sometime.

 

[TiredFingers]

The Chow Hall:

Cooper listened to Daria explaining what needed to be done in the very near future. She looked to him. "So, what I need before we do all that is for Mister Thomas to have his people trained to protect us when we go out there. We need to go soon. Tomorrow, Cooper. Will we be ready?"

Cooper thought a moment. He looked to Loretta James. The woman had surprised him with her gun handling skills. Her proficiency gave Cooper great hope for the others who included former military and wildlife hunters.

"Yes, we'll be ready," Cooper said confidently. "I'll have a dozen men and women trained to protect the others."

Nigel Standish stood up. "We're going to need more than just pistols, Chief."

"We'll have'em," Cooper said. He stood, too, looking upon the group. "I promise you all. Anyone who goes out to help us gather supplies, to scavenge, will be well protected."

They spoke on it more and finished lunch. Cooper made another visit to the armory with a couple of helpers. They collected shotguns, rifles, and a pair of Remington Model 700 sniper rifles. They took them and the wannabe Security Team members out front of the prison buildings. There, Cooper arranged a row of targets.

He stressed to one and all, "Regardless of whether you have firearms experience or not, you will follow my instructions to the letter. If you don't, you take the risk of harming yourself or someone else, even killing them. The first time I see anyone mishandling a loaded weapon, you will be asked to surrender that weapon and depart. Is that understood?"

Cooper set the unloaded Berettas out on the tables, one per participant, telling them, "You don't pick them up until I tell you to."

He walked them through step after step of how to properly handle and load the pistols. He treated each of the team members as if this was the first time they'd handled a pistol. It would turn out to be a good idea. Over the next ten minutes or so, he would snatch two Berettas away from having been mishandled. To each man, he said, "Git! You'll have another chance in a couple of days. Not today, though."

It was hard to dismiss the men that way. But it was necessary to impress upon the others proper firearms handling. Soon enough, the Team was aiming their Berettas and pulling the triggers. Just one shot each. Then another. Then another. Then they were instructed to empty their clips, slowly with control.

Cooper was fairly happy with what he saw from the shooters. A couple of them hit their targets with every shot. A couple more hit with more rounds than not. The rest varied. They might have hit a man coming at them or they might have missed. Cooper hoped that none of them would ever have to fire their weapon at another person, ever.

"Let's move on," he told them. He instructed them to empty their weapons as he distributed rifles to half and shotguns to the rest. Again, he went through the process with slow detail. They emptied their magazines with similar results. "Check'em, empty'em, set'em aside."

Cooper spent a few minutes speaking to individuals as he had after shooting the Berettas. They took a few more shots. He wished they had a week to go through more weapons handling. But they needed to go out tomorrow. Any delay was going to cost them, he knew.

"Okay, let's clean everything up," Cooper told them. They spent an hour thoroughly cleaning and oiling every weapon before storing them again. "Okay, everyone take a couple of hours, then dinner. We have a surprise for y'all after dinner."

 

[CutiePie1997]

The Chow Hall:

Sally Stevens looked down range through the assault rifle's scope at her target. She'd done okay earlier with the pistols, but with the rifle she'd put 8 rounds inside the ten circle and 4 more within the nine. She handed the rifle to Cooper, who seemed to be impressed, then gestured toward the two Remington Model 700's laid out on the table. "May I?"

She took her chair again, rolled her coat up and laid it upon the table, and then laid the sniper rifle's stock out over it. Pulling the rifle tight to her shoulder, she took a moment to settle herself, then squeezed the trigger gently. The powerful rifle chambered in .458 Winchester Magnum bucked, the sound of the explosion echoing off the walls on three sides of them repeatedly.

One of the men handling a spotter's scope laughed, saying, "Miss!"

Sally looked over the scope at her target, looked through the optics again, and said, "Look again."

"The paper's pristine," the man said. "No holes."

"I wasn't aiming at the paper," she said about target that was just 70 yards downhill from their position. "I was aiming at the No Trespassing sign, on the fence at the edge of the property." She waited as the man searched for the sign that was 150 yards or more away. She told him, "I was aiming for the 'p'."

A moment later, the man said with obvious awe, "Jesus! She hit it. Not the 'p', but she hit just above the 'a' next to it."

Suddenly, the gun exploded again, causing most of Sally's fellow gun trainees to flinch in surprise. She looked over the top of the scope again, asking, "What about that time?"

The man eyed the sign again, laughed, and said, "Just above the 's'. Bracketed the 'p'. Not bad. Not bad at all."

Sally stood, kicked the expended round out of the chamber, and slid the bolt forward without reloading the rifle. She handed it to Cooper, smiling as she said, "My daddy taught me to shoot when I was a kid. Good rifle. Accurate scope. I like it."

 

[TiredFingers]

"May I?" Sally Stevens asked Cooper, gesturing to the sniper rifle.

"No, go ahead," he responded, checking, "You know how to handle it, I presume.

A moment later, Sally answered Cooper with a show worthy of a sharpshooters competition.

"My daddy taught me to shoot when I was a kid," Sally explained.

"Taught you well," Cooper told her. He gestured toward the Remington. "Whaddya think about that?"

"Good rifle," she responded. "Accurate scope. I like it."

"If you want to use it, it's yours," Cooper told Sally. "We will need someone in the tower to stand watch at times, particularly when we have people out on the fields, tending cross and such. Interested?"

 

[CutiePie1997]

"If you want to use it, it's yours," Cooper told Sally. He explained about the need for tower watches. He asked, "Interested?"

Sally was conflicted for obvious reasons. She had proven herself capable to shooting a paper target or a metal sign, but Sally didn't know whether or not she could ever shot a human being, even if she had justification.

Still, she answered, "Yes. I'm interested. Thank you."

Sally cleaned the rifle and, as were the rest of the weapons, turned it in at the armory.

 

[CutiePie1997]

Evening:

Gwen Standish smiled to her husband as he returned to their new home, finding his children no where to be seen. The majority of the electric lights were off, which Nigel might have attributed to the prison running on the backup generator.

But the two candles on the little kitchen table illuminating a bottle of wine provided from Daria's stash and two bowls of tiramisu from Jackson might have led Nigel to think other things.

"Our children are with the Alcotts' children, playing games until nine," she told him. Moving to Nigel and pulling their bodies together, Green asked, "Do you remember the last time we were here in this place together?"

A year earlier, the two of them had enjoyed their one and only conjugal visit. It had begun awkwardly, feeling like they were in one of those pay-by-the-hour, fleabag, downtown hotel rooms. But the love they'd felt for each other then and still did now had been enough for them to forget the setting and think only of the passion.

"Let's drink our wine and eat our dessert," she whispered, kissing him deeply, "then let's repeat that night last year."

 

[TiredFingers]

(OOC -- I don't have an image for Nigel yet. Soon.)

Nigel did in fact take notice of the candles and desserts. He also noticed the absence of their children. He started, "Where are the--"

"Our children are with the Alcotts' children," Gwen explained. She came to him, pulling their bodies together. By the time they were belly to belly, Nigel's cock was already getting hard. "Do you remember the last time we were here in this place together?"

"Do I?" he responded. "I walked funny for the whole next day, and I'd always thought that only happened to women."

She suggested they drink the wine and eat the dessert. Nigel instead swept Gwen up into his arms. He carried her quickly to the bed, tossing her onto it. If she did nothing to stop him, Nigel would strip his wife, then himself, and mount her with the excitement and energy of a prize bill that had been isolated alone in the South Forty for the last year

 

[CutiePie1997]

Gwen giggled as her husband swept her up into his arms and headed for their bed. She could have thought about how many inmates and their lovers had used this bed before them, but the only thing on Gwen's mind now was how badly she'd missed having Nigel inside her.

She didn't hesitate to begin hurriedly stripping off her clothes, starting with her shoes, socks, and jeans. As she began to unbutton her blouse, though, Gwen slowed then stopped. When Nigel looked to her with a curious expression, she smiled and blushed.

"Remember what we talked about last time?" she asked, clarifying, "Last time we were naked together?"

She unfastened the remaining buttons of her blouse and pulled it open, revealing her deliciously reconstructed B-cups. They were practically identical to how they'd looked the first time Nigel had seen them barred, with just a small, natural amount of sag and pert, stiff nipples.

"Whaddya think, honey?" Gwen asked. Speaking of her two beloved daughters, she joked, "Almost like those two monsters never sucked them dry all those years ago."

As she laid back and shed her panties, Gwen caressed her hands seductively over her body. She was a slim woman, fit, with belly muscles still conspicuous from her days as a long distance runner. Of course that belly now included some very light stretch marks and her C-section scar, but they had been tended to with great care during and following the births (respectively), so they didn't stand out as they did on so many other women.

Nigel had always loved simply looking at her, almost as much as fucking her, so now as she showed herself off to him, her husband took a moment to enjoy the show again.

"Finish," Gwen said, waggling an extended fingertip toward the clothes still on him. The fingers of her other hand had found their way to between her thighs, where they would wet themselves in her pussy and begin finding her clit. She knew he liked that, to, again almost as much as fucking her, and if he didn't hurt to put himself inside her, Gwen would give him a real show.

 

[TiredFingers]

Nigel was stripping as well but slowed as Gwen revealed more and more of herself. Just as she believed, he'd always been infatuated with her body.

He'd first noticed her running long distance races for his own high school's rival. Standing near the track, Nigel had fallen lust in first sight with her.

He'd started attending track meets just to watch her stretch, run, and stretch again during cool down afterward. Some of these meets didn't even include his school as participants. And he hadn't even liked track and field. Never had. Still didn't!

But he'd loved watching Gwen, running out otherwise. Eventually, Nigel had gotten up the nerve to introduce himself. Then he'd engaged her in conversation. Then he'd asked her out.

Then he'd dated, fucked, and married her, all within 4 months. Of course, having knocked her up the first time they'd fucked had had something to do with that last part.

But it hadn't mattered to Nigel. His infatuation and lust had long before that become deep love and affection.

The twins, Holly and Polly, had taken a bit of a toll on Gwen's tits, obviously. That had been disappointing to Nigel, of course. He'd cherished his wife's tits.

But they weren't all that Gwen was, of course. There was a lot more to her and to his love for her than those sweet, little orbs.

Still, when Gwen had been here for the conjugal a year ago, and she'd asked if she should have her breasts rejuvenated, Nigel had been intrigued. He'd left the decision to her.

And now, here they were Gwen's perfect tits. They looked just as they had the first time he'd looked upon them, just as Gwen had hoped.

"Magnificent," he murmured under her breath. Then louder, Nigel told her, "You have been, are now, and will always be the most beautiful woman in all the world."

Gwen continued undressing, then slipped a hand down between her thighs. Nigel froze, hallway through shedding his prison coveralls. Her fingers slipped inside her hole, then found her clit. She worked it as she suggested, "Finish."

Nigel continued undressing. A moment later, he, too, was naked. His cock was rock hard and pointing directly at Gwen. It was only average in length. But it had the girth of a cock twice as long.

He crawled up onto the end of the bed, reaching and partying Gwen's feet but he got no nearer to her than that. Instead, he grasped his shaft tightly, smiled to his wife, and just watched her.

Nigel would do his best to cause himself to cum with Gwen. Who could know what would happen, though.

 

[CutiePie1997]

Just as Nigel had always loved his wife's tits, Gwen had always loved her husband's cock. It wasn't exceptionally long, something that he, like many men, had said he would have liked. But what it lacked in length was more than made up for in girth and skill in usage.

The first time they'd fucked, when Nigel had taken her virginity, Gwen had initially tearfully cried at the pain. He'd offered to stop, even begging her to let him try another time. But Gwen had insisted they continue, swearing that she'd get used to it.

She had, of course, though not that night. It would be their fourth or fifth time together before the pain gave way fully to pleasure, allowing her to explode in such a loud orgasm that her older sister beat on the locked bedroom door, checking on her safety.

Nigel crawled onto the bed, and Gwen expected him to crawl in between her thighs and enter her. But instead, he sat his haunches on his calves, grabbed his cock, and gently stroked himself as he watched her fondle her clit.
Gwen smiled in delighted surprise, continuing to roll a pair of fingertips over and around her clit. She set her gaze on Nigel's eyes as they moved from her own eyes to her pussy and back.

The pleasure building from Gwen's fingers was amplified by the erotic nature of what they were doing together and apart at the same time. Her breathing and heart rate sped up, her sighs became soft cries, and eventually as her body began trembling in anticipation and her heels dug into the mattress, Gwen held a deep breath, then let it loose in a loud, explosive gasp.

Nigel knew what she would want next. She didn't have to tell him.

 

[TiredFingers]

Gwen hadn't yet cum before Nigel had to release his grip on his cock. The pleasure he was causing himself from the start simply by grasping his shaft while watching his wife masturbate had threatened a very early orgasm.

What came next was both heaven and hell. Nigel loved watching Gwen pleasure herself. That was the heaven. But sitting there with his rock-hard, twitching cock just pointing at her untouched? That was hell.

Repeatedly, Nigel took hold of his true love handle. But each time he forced himself to let go. He wasn't ready to cum. He was. But he wasn't at the same time.

And then, a miracle happened. Nigel recognized the familiar body language and sounds that told him that Gwen was seconds from cumming. He crawled on his knees up tighter inside her parted legs. He only stopped when he was so close that their hands were almost touching as each continued masturbating.

Nigel spit into his palm, grasped his shaft, and desperately began stroking his full length. It wasn't long, just seconds, before he grunted out loudly.

His cock spewed out a long, thick string of cum. It reached all the way to his wife's neckline. A second volley went nearly as far. A third, fourth, fifth each splashed upon her. Each was less powerful than the last. But each was still as delightful to Nigel.

His brain swam to the euphoria exploding throughout him. Nigel's body trembled from head to toe. His cock and balls continued twitching, desperate to do their job, even after the flow of thick jizz had ceased. A pool of the stuff gathered upon his thumb and forefinger around his fat head.

His swimming mind was awoken as his wife's fast paced and growing cries ceased a moment. Then, as he opened his eyes, Gwen, too, exploded in orgasm. Nigel smiled in awe as she twitched and cried to the waves of pleasure washing through her.

He gave her a moment to get all she could from her still working fingers. Nigel knew from experience when she was done. He just watched her fingers, still feverishly working her clit, extending her climax as long as she had control of them.

When she couldn't take anymore, her digits went still. And Nigel did what he knew she wanted. He moved forward until his cock's huge head found her sopping wet hole. And he shoved.

 

[CutiePie1997]

Gwen opened her eyes, looking up to her husband as her brain rolled about inside her skull, overwhelmed. She'd intentionally kept her hands to herself for almost a month, anticipating the joy of their first conjugal in almost a year, only to then have the virus and subsequent lockdown delay her gratification. Nigel was slumping forward, breathing heavy as he, too, enjoyed the euphoria of climax, and Gwen smiled at both the sight of him post-orgasm and the puddles of cum all up and down her front side.

She reached up to his torso as he moved forward, pressed his cock's bulbous head to her wet pussy, and shoved. Gwen cried out at the immediate pain of his entry into her tightness, sinking her modest nails into his sides before pulling him toward her. Another shove forward, accompanied by another cry, and Nigel was fully inside Gwen. She crossed the ankles of her long legs behind him, reached up to take his head and move his mouth to her own, and kissed him hard as he began pounding inside of her.

She'd always loved what his generous girth did to her down there. Well, maybe not always, of course. Their first handful of times had hurt, less so with each successive fuck, but hurt all the same. It had taken Gwen a while to learn how to fuck Nigel. It had been about proper angle and enduring the first, agonizing seconds to survive until the previously unimaginable pleasure arrived.

This night was no different, and she rode out the first minute or so of mixed pain and pleasure until finally it was nothing but the latter. She again lowered her hands to his torso, then to his ass cheeks, sinking her claws into him and she begged him to fuck her harder or faster or both. She never used the word deeper, of course, because of her husband's self-consciousness about being only average in length, maybe even a bit less than that. But Nigel had never failed to please her with what he had, driving Gwen to orgasm nearly every time they'd fucked over the past decade of their lives together.

He did so again now, too, sending waves of euphoria through her just moments after she'd begun crying out, "Yes! Yes! Oh God, yes!"


Later:

The alarm on Gwen's cell phone went off, causing a bit of panic to surge through her. She rolled from their spooning position to look into Nigel's face, smiling from ear to ear before kissing him and whispering, "I love you, my husband." Then, still naked, she slipped out of the bed, snatched up her clothes and a folded towel, and said, "I have to shower and go get the girls."

If Nigel asked to join her, Gwen would tell him firmly no. She couldn't be distracted, which she would be with him standing under the water with her naked. Once she finished cleaning, inside and out, she dried, dressed, did the bare minimum of prissying herself, and kissed Nigel once more before hurrying for the door.

"Get up! Shower!" she commanded. "You don't want your daughters returning to smell what you smell like after that. Oh! And pull the sheets off and throw the blanket back over the bed. I'll make it when I get back."

Her trek to retrieve Polly and Molly was a short one, less than 50 feet to the neighboring conjugal trailer. She knocked and was invited in, where she found her 9-year-old girls in a circle on the floor with Sammi Alcott's 11-year-old and 6-year-old playing Uno. To the other mother, Gwen said, "Thanks for watching them for me."

"No trouble at all," Sammi said. "Freddie and Willie adore your girls. I think it's the whole twins but not twins thing. We had a pair of identical twins on our block, so learning what it meant to be fraternal twins, the differences and similarities both, was interesting for them. Any your girls loved it, too."

The two mothers watched the kids a moment before Sammi looked to Gwen and asked suggestively, "So, like riding a bicycle?" Gwen laughed and instantly turned beet red. Sammi laughed as well, asking, "You said it had been a year?"

Whispering, Gwen answered just as cryptically as she'd been asked, "Like riding a bicycle, yes." Then, Gwen's happy expression faded away, and she asked with a solemn tone, "Are you getting through this okay, Samantha? What about them?"

"Sammi, please," the mother of three corrected. "It was Edward's nickname for me. I didn't like it at first, and we even tried Sam for a little while. But outside of the PTA or the Library Council or any of a number of other organizations and non-profits in which I was a member and known as Samantha, I was always Sammi. My children know me as that, even though they call me mom, of course."

She considered her answer to Gwen's question a moment, finally saying, "When Edward joined the Sheriff's Department more than a decade and a half ago, I accepted that one day he might not come home to me. You know, they always start out here at the prison. Edward put in almost 3 years here before he went out into the world. Amazingly, he'd actually liked it, enough so that he came back again two years ago. I tried to talk him out of it."

Sammi took a moment to just breath, then continued, "Five years in this place between those two tours, and he never once got into a scrape with an inmate. Then, the day of the lockdown, he gets shivved? He dies? Of that? While the rest of the world is beginning to die around us, some Con puts a toothbrush shiv into his liver and kills him? How does that happen?"

Gwen could tell by the other woman's tone that Sammi was harboring some deep resentment over what had happened to her husband. The mother of two asked the mother of three quietly, "Were you told who did this? What I mean is--"

"Is the bastard who killed my husband still alive?" Sammi cut in. "Is he one of the Trustees still in here with us?" She drew a deep, anxious breath, then answered, "I dunno. I haven't had a chance to speak to the warden about it yet. Actually, I have. I just haven't done so yet. I'm afraid..."

When Sammi didn't finish, Gwen filled in, "You're afraid that if he's still alive and here, that you won't know how to deal with it."

As Sammi responded with just a nod, a tear finally broke down her cheek. She wiped it away, dried the other eye, too, then called to the children, "Okay, time to wrap it up."

The four youngest objected, of course, but Sammi's 13-year-old daughter, Connie, looked ready to see the mayhem of the quartet end. She'd been reading a random book off in the corner, and now she hurried to help the younger ones put away all they'd dragged out from the Children's Area of this, the Family Conjugal Building.

After Gwen left with her twins, Sammi got her boys ready for bed with Connie's help. The Trustees had brought some of the privacy walls to the structure to create small bedrooms for the boys' bunkbeds and for Connie's not-even-twin-sized bed. She'd complained that her bedroom was barely big enough for her to move around, saying, "I bet I'd have more room in one of the cells."

She'd actually asked if she could sleep inside one of them instead, only to have Sammi instantly tell her no. "I'm not going to have my 13-year-old daughter living essentially on her own in a cell block full of convicts."

"They're not convicts anymore, mother," Connie reminded her. "They're Trustees. They always were Trustees, according to the Warden."

"Call'em what you want, honey," Sammi said as she urged Connie toward her bedroom to end her day. "But they're still convicts, and one of them killed your father."

"One of them?" Connie asked, immediately shushed by her mother as the boys had been told their father had died because of the virus. Softer, she asked, "Do you know that it was one of these guys?"

Sammi confessed that she didn't, but that she was going to ask the next day. "Now, go to sleep--"

Connie began, "I'm not tired--"

"Then just lie down and read," Sammi snapped. Then, calmer, she said, "I just need a moment to myself. Please."

 

[TiredFingers]

Earlier:

Nigel listened to his wife's cries, "Yes! Yes! Oh God, yes!"

He was close, too. But she beat him to that second orgasm by almost a minute. He emptied himself inside of her, groaning out loudly. He relaxed downward onto her, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. They both breathed hard and fast. Their hearts beat against each other.

Nigel had a thin layer of sweat over him from the effort. Gwen didn't. She was in such incredible shape, still the athlete he'd fallen in love with. He couldn't wait for a night in which she herself sweated. She'd given him one of those just a few days before he began his sentence. She'd ridden him for hours. Four orgasms for him. Only God and Gwen know how many for her. It had been the greatest night of sex in their lives.

He rolled off of her, pulling her into a spooning position. He pushed his still hard cock into the crevice of her thighs and ass cheeks. He used to call it his post-coital parking spot.

Nigel pulled Gwen tight to him, whispering, "I've missed you. Not just for this. But for everything. I love you."

They cuddled a while, but her alarm ended that. He listened to her shower, then watched her dress. Then she ordered, "Get up! Shower! You don't want your daughters returning to smell what you smell like after that."

He lifted his arms to smell his pits. She didn't mean that, of course. She meant all the cum sticking to his belly and chest. When he'd laid on her to fuck, it had squished between them.

"Oh!" she continued as she rushed for the door. "And pull the sheets off and throw the blanket back over the bed. I'll make it when I get back."

Nigel waited for her to leave before getting up to do as ordered. He showered, stripped the bed, then actually made it himself. Then he spent a few minutes just studying their new home. It wasn't much, of course. It had been used for family reunions and couples' conjugal visits, of course. It was plainly decorated. There were the most basic furniture and a few paintings firmly affixed to the walls.

Nigel had heard that one of the civilians had volunteered to paint and decorate the prison's living areas. That suited him. If he and his family were going to live here for a while, he wanted it comfortable. There were windows, of course, to offer a bit or normalcy to what was supposed to be a bedroom. But they had bars on the inside and no drapes. Nigel would like to see the former removed and the latter added.

When Gwen returned with Polly and Molly, Nigel snatched each up in an arm and asked them about their night while swinging them around and laughing. He couldn't believe that he had them back in his life on a 24/7 basis again. Previously, he'd seen them only 3 or 4 times a year and usually only for a couple of hours.

They chatted about the farm that they were going to help create. He laughed when they told him about the guinea pigs they wanted to have. Soon, he and Gwen put the pair to sleep and laid down together again. Nigel held his wife close to him, caressing her under her sleeping shirt and kissing her softly.

"You wanna know the irony of this virus thing?" he whispered to her. "While everyone's dying around us, or dead already, it gave us a life together again."

 

[CutiePie1997]

"You wanna know the irony of this virus thing?" Nigel whispered to Gwen. "While everyone's dying around us, or dead already, it gave us a life together again."

Gwen hadn't thought of the pandemic that way as of yet, but she would find herself thinking that way often in the days to come. It was ironic as her husband had said, but it was sad at the same time.

She didn't know it at the moment, but she was the only civilian who had come to WGCF to visit a loved one who hadn't died. Most had succumbed to the virus obviously. Sammi Alcott's husband had been shivved, of course.

Gwen and Nigel feel asleep in each other's arms for the first time in 4 years.