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From: Doalfer <doalfer@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Jennifer Doalfer - Prison Exposure (MF, Exhib)
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Date: Tue, 31 Jul 2007 09:10:04 -0400
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THIS STORY IS PROTECTED UNDER THE LAWS OF COPYRIGHT.
ANY REPRODUCTION, ALTERATIONS, AND/OR SALES WITHOUT
THE WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR IS STRICTLY
PROHIBITED.


This story is one of a series of stories published
to www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/doalfer/www. Please also read the
others, preferably in the order in which they were
published (the order in which they are listed on
the site) as there is a certain chronology in
the events and comments.


Reader comments are very welcome.
Please write to: doalfer@gmail.com


Prison Exposure
By Jennifer Doalfer
Copyright 2007 Jennifer Doalfer
(Exhib, MF)



And here I thought my exciting life was on hold!
Not so, I am pleased to say. Read what has just
happened to me . . .

A very, very, with stress on the second "very",
good friend of mine got into some trouble a
couple of years ago. I guess you could call it
"white collar crime" as it really only would
happen to one of the suit boys. Here in Denmark
you can beat a guy to pulp and get a two-month
suspended sentence, but if you do something a
little creative with your, or somebody else's
money, you end up in jail for four years.

To my mind Jason really hasn't done anything bad.
He explored the boundaries, believing he was on
the right side of the law. But people got
jealous, the press got their nose into it and the
public opinion forced the judges of the ensuing
trial to interpret the boundary line differently,
resulting in a four year sentence for Jason.

Jason lost his business, house and family, but
fortunately not a few devoted old friends.

I don't know very much about the prison system
here in Denmark, but apparently you have to apply
for visits, and you only get so many per month or
week. Even though I was a good friend, Jason's
mother, sister and children obviously came first,
so when I could finally see him he had already
been inside for six weeks.

"Are you sure you don't want to come along", I
asked Poul once more at the dinner table. Jason
wasn't really Poul's friend, but they got along
fine, and honestly I felt a bit uncomfortable
going to a prison on my own. Jason was in what
they call an "open" prison, which means there are
no walls, just a line which you cannot cross. If
you cross it you go straight to a closed prison
with none of the perks allowed in the open
prison. However, a prison to me was a prison,
with guards, dogs, surveillance, rough inmates
and strict discipline. Not really my everyday cup
of tea.

"Not really", Poul replied. "I am busy, and if I
know Jason, he would probably like it better if
he had a chance to talk with you in confidence.
He might need a shoulder to cry on, and you are
much better at that".

I might be uncomfortable with prisons, but Poul
is uncomfortable with emotions.

I kept on my business suit as I felt that might
demand a bit of respect at the prison and
distance me from some of the different types of
people I expected to meet. I had been given the
late slot from 8 - 10 PM, normally reserved for
family who couldn't get the time off, so it had
already started to get dark when I arrived. I had
no problems finding it as signs warned the public
that they were in the vicinity of a prison and
should be cautious of loitering inmates possibly
on the run. My Mercedes stuck out like a sore
thumb in the parking lot, but I guess it was safe
to leave it as we were inside the controlled
zone.


As I checked in, having to show ID and a special
pass sent to me in advance, I was suddenly
worried about searches. A male guard asked me to
step into a cubical and remove my coat and suit
jacket.

As I thought he was about to pat me down; I
shuddered. I didn't like to think about how far
he would go in feeling me up.

"Am I not supposed to have a female attendant
doing a search like this?" I asked with a slight
quiver in my voice.

He looked at me in surprise as if he only now
realised I was a woman.

"Sure, if I were going to do a full body search",
he said with a friendly smile. "But, I am not
looking for drugs, just gifts and the like which
the inmates are not allowed to receive".

I held out my arms expecting his hands all over
me, but he just looked at me and nodded.

"I guess you can't be hiding much under that
outfit", he said smiling and let me put on my
jacket again. I guess my white, slightly
transparent, body-hugging shirt and tight-fitting
skirt would not have been the chosen apparel had
I intended to smuggle in anything of any size.

The guard led me down a long, quite friendly
looking corridor with doors, reminding me more of
a hospital than a prison.

"This doesn't look like a prison at all," I
commented to the guard, just as much to make
small talk and be friendly.

"This has been designed not to give the children
coming here to visit relatives or perhaps their
father, a feeling of prison. It is not good for
them if they feel their dad is in an unpleasant
place", he explained as he unlocked a door and
let me into a room.

"Wait here while I go and get Jason", he
instructed me.

I didn't like the sound of the lock turning
behind me.

I went to the window and looked out. There was an
incredible view which people with money would
have spent a fortune to have. The window took up
almost the entire end wall of the room, coming
from about the height of my knees up to the
ceiling and being probably about 10 feet wide.
Over the dense bushes about 25 feet away, which
obviously marked the boundary of the prison area,
I could see a lake about half a mile away. On the
other side of the lake the lights were coming on
in the houses, and you could see small moving
lights as the cars drove along the edge of the
lake more than five miles away. There was
absolutely no sign that this was a prison.

The room was humid; it had been a hot spring day,
and as the window didn't open -- I guess that was
the only sign of this being a prison -- the air
was stuffy. I hung my jacket over the back of one
of the guest chairs as the key turned in the
lock. The door opened and the guard let in Jason.

"See you," the guard said with a wink, which I
didn't understand. But I quickly forgot about it
as Jason rushed over to me and gave a warm,
friendly hug.

"Am I glad to see you," I finally said when he
let go of me. He held me out at arms length and
looked me over. As with most guys his eyes just
lingered a little too long at my chest. But that
was OK, I was used to it, and Jason had always
made appreciative comments on my looks and body.

"You look like dressed to kill," he said as he
finally looked away.

"You don't look as bad as I had expected either,"
I said as I sat down on one of the arm chairs
across from the couch that Jason had sat on,
probably having hoped I would join him there.

"I expected you to look all grey and humble," I
said with a smile. "You look more like a tourist
in a fancy hotel."

"Well, I did dress up for you," he said returning
the smile, "and after six weeks working out in
the gym, and the last days' sun which I have
ample opportunity to enjoy, I guess you are
right."

He went on for a while explaining about the
facilities, the rough guys he tried to avoid and
how the warders were being nice to him realizing
he was not the usual kind of inmate.

"That all sounds too good to be true," I said
with a doubting look on my face. "Surely it can't
all be that good. There must be some things that
you miss being here."

"I need company I can talk to on my own level.
The conversations here are rather base. It is all
about girls and the porn movies they see on the
TV in the common room in the evening after the
guards have closed up for the night. Watching and
hearing so much about sex only makes you realise
how long you have gone without, and how long till
you get out."

There was no hint of any suggestion resulting
from this topic. We were really just good
friends, and had we wanted to be more than that
we would probably have taken some of the many
opportunities which had presented themselves over
the years. But the darker side of my mind played
with images of horny inmates watching porn movies
in the evenings and then all retreating to their
rooms for relief: I could feel a slight familiar
stirring in my lower parts.

"Are there no women here? I thought I saw some
when I arrived?"

"Yes, but they are very strictly segregated.
Saying anything more than just a quick 'hi' when
passing them on the paths, might get you out of
here and into a secure prison in no time at all,"
he said.

"Well, what are they all doing for relief?" I
asked stupidly. I knew the answer, but couldn't
help pursuing the pictures in my mind.

"Obviously most masturbate in their rooms. There
is also some gay activity going on, though not
rapes like you see in American films, it seems to
be only between consensual males."

Homosexuality does nothing for me, the pictures
in my mind subsiding, but then Jason continued .
. .

"But you know, there are probably quite a few of
them out in the bushes tonight," he explained.

That got my attention. "What do you mean?"

He walked over to the window and I rose to join
him.

"Normally you wouldn't be able to see them in the
dark, but there are always some of them who can't
live that long without a smoke. See the glow out
there?" He got behind me and pointed, not by his
hand, not wanting to give away the fact that we
were looking, but by holding my head and turning
it so I looked in the right direction.

"Yes, I see it. But what on earth are they doing
out there? It is on the wrong side of the safe
line."

"There are guards out there as well, and they
secretly accept the transgression, as long as
they stay in the bushes."

"But what are they doing?"  I asked again, still
not understanding.

"There is this kind of dare..." Jason continued
hesitantly. "In the gym the guys are very
interested in who gets visits from their wives
and girlfriends. It is quite normal for people to
have sex in the  visiting rooms. The couch is
wide and underneath, in that box over there,
there are sheets, and in that drawer there are
condoms. The guards know this and never enter the
room during visiting hours. The guys at the gym
used to brag about what they'd done to their wife
and girlfriends in the visiting room. At one
point somebody bragged about the fact that his
wife has boobs so big that he could get it off in
between them. The other guys didn't believe it,
so they made a dare for him not to draw the
curtains next time and some of the guys would
take the risk and hide in the bushes to check out
his story. I don't know if it was ever proven,
but the idea caught on. If you manage to have sex
with your wife or girlfriend without pulling the
curtains, you really win points with the other
guys. Sometimes their wives don't know and
sometimes they don't mind, and I guess some do it
to help their husbands to get the points, which
are sorely sought after in here. But there is
almost always something going on at one of the
windows for the guys watching from the bushes."

"Surely there are not that many guys in the
bushes?" I asked.

"When the guards caught on, they decided to
accept it, seeing they liked the shows as well.
They just control the number of viewers," Jason
explained.

My mind was playing with the images the people in
the bushes could see. What was going on in the
other windows which I couldn't see? Or were they
all looking at our window hoping something would
happen in here? Lights on the end wall, to the
sides of the window lit up Jason and me as if we
were on a stage, which, perhaps, we were.

I was getting both hot and aroused. I wondered if
Jason could detect it. I felt so weak at the
knees that I was leaning more against him that I
normally would have had we just been standing
together enjoying the view. I could feel his
heart beating hard.

"I wonder what they think is going on in here?" I
said in a voice huskier than I had intended.

"I have never had any visitors where anything
would have been possible, so I have never had any
comments from anybody. But I bet you there are
few guys out there holding their breath and
hoping for a show."

"Maybe we should give them one." I couldn't
believe I had just said that. But the idea of
being able to expose myself to a lot of horny
inmates without it in any way being obvious that
I was aware of what was going on, was just taking
over my mind.

"Do you mean that?" Jason asked with surprise in
his voice. "I have dreamt about you lots of
times, but never wanted to make any advances
because I valued our friendship too much to risk
it in any way."

"Call it a friendly gesture then," I said without
specifying who was doing the favour to whom.

After we fell silent there was pause, just heavy
breathing.

"What should we do then?" Jason asked, obviously
not wanting to take the first step.

"You could start with unbuttoning my shirt." It
was more a command than a suggestion.

He put his hands on my shoulders and I leant my
head back against him as his hands moved down to
the top button. As the first one was being undone
I knew there was no way back, but I didn't mind.
The opportunity was too good to miss, and if I
had to do something like this, Jason was just the
guy to do it with.

"I bet we are getting the attention of everybody
now," Jason whispered in my ear. His hand
continued down the front undoing all the buttons,
pulling the shirt out of the skirt. He slipped it
over my shoulders, but as he couldn't get it over
my hands without undoing the cuffs, they were
trapped behind me for a while, with my tits
straining to get out of the bra. I looked down at
myself and could see the hard nipples highly
visible against the semi-transparent material. I
wondered how obvious they were from the bushes.

Finally he got the shirt off. He just threw it
over the back of the chair, not troubling to hang
it up properly. I remember hoping it wouldn't be
too creased. I didn't want Poul to wonder what
had been going on. He knows I normally keep my
business outfit looking clean and sharp.

Jason fumbled at bit with the bra like a nervous
teenager, but finally managed to release the
catch. He let it hang loose for just a short
while, before he slipped it off my shoulders
dropping it on the floor in front of me. I bent
down to pick it up, wanting to display my free-
hanging tits to the spectators. I then got a
pleasant surprise when my bum hit an obviously
hard object behind me. I heard a faint grunt from
Jason.

"It seems like the guys in the bushes are not the
only ones getting excited," I said as I stood up
again. I put my hands behind me dropping the bra
but finding the dick and rubbing it slightly.
Putting my hands behind me again made my tits
stand out, the nipples pointing hard towards the
window.

"What did you expect?" Jason answered with a
slight hint of irritation in his voice, "that I
would be able to just stand by passively watching
the show?"

"No, and I wouldn't want you to either."

I took his hands, which had so far been by his
sides, and placed them over my tits. I leant my
head back against his shoulder and again gripped
his dick through his trousers.

"I want you to forget that I am Jenny, your old
friend. Just imagine that I am some prostitute
you have paid to come here to the prison for some
much needed sex and do to me what you would have
done to her." I was getting even hotter from this
talk and it seemed to work on him too.

"In that case, what I want is for you to be
completely naked now," he said as he felt for the
zip on the side of my skirt.

Finding it, he quickly undid zip and button. I
wriggled out of the skirt, again bending to pick
it up allowing my breasts to hang free for a few
seconds and rubbing my bum against his hard dick.

"Stay down," he instructed as he slipped my tanga
panties off in one quick move. As I stood up,
leaning against him, I felt really tarty,
standing there completely naked, with him still
fully dressed and with an unknown number of guys
sitting in the bushes enjoying the show.

"Turn around and face me," he commanded.

I did, for the first time really seeing him. He
cupped his hands round my face, holding my head
in as in a vice. He then slowly lowered his head
to mine, closing for a kiss. It seemed like he
was afraid I was going to turn away. But I
wasn't. I really wanted his kiss, which I let him
know by meeting his lips with a searching tongue.
After a hot kiss he finally moved a bit away from
me, lowering his hands to my shoulders, then
running them down to my breasts, squeezing them,
pinching the nipples.

I gasped a bit and closed my eyes, indicating I
was enjoying his caress.

I opened them again as his hands travelled
further down. He put one hand behind me, pushing
me against his other hand now forcing its way
between my legs. I spread them slightly giving
him easier access.

"My god you are wet," he whispered almost to
himself. He slid two fingers into me almost
lifting me off the floor.

"Oh Jason," I shuddered. "Do with me what you
want. Show your mates anything you want to show
them, but do it quickly."

"First we have to prolong the show a bit." Jason
said. Then he took his fingers out, slid the wet
fingers all the way up my front to my mouth,
running his fingers around my lips.

"Lick them."

I did and tasted my own juices.

"Now taste me," Jason said removing his fingers
from my mouth and instead used them to undo his
belt and unbutton his trousers. His trousers fell
to the floor. His shorts were unable to hold his
dick in place; it jerked out from under one of
the legs of the boxers and started to rise to
full erection.

Again he took my head between his hands, this
time forcing it down. I had to kneel. I put both
hands on his dick, one holding it down, the other
lightly gliding the palm over the head.

"Here, do it from the side, so they can see
properly," he directed as he pushed me around to
the side. I pulled his shorts all the way off,
and as the elastic let go his dick, it jumped up
and hit me on the cheek. I ran my tongue over it,
licking it, tasting his juices until finally I
took it in my mouth as far as I could. It wasn't
very fat, but quite long and ramrod straight. I
could take only about half of it, but that was
all right. I have never really understood the
deep throat act.  If a guy wanted the feel of his
dick entering a deep hole, there were other
places more suitable for that. Giving head was
about licking all the right places, and I am good
at that.

 "Oh god, Jen, I can't believe you are doing this
to me. But you have to stop now."

I did and looked up at him without understanding
why.

"Another 30 seconds of this and I will explode in
your mouth, but that is not the show we want to
be putting on," Jason managed to explain. "Seeing
you are going along with this, I have to let them
see me fucking you for real."

"Right, anything you say. Just direct me."
Anything really, I had totally lost it by now. I
didn't care if the whole bloody prison was
outside watching.

He made me face the window. Then he put an arm
around my waist using the other to push me over.
I rested my hands on the low windowsill and
spread my legs for him. I felt him wetting his
dick by rubbing it all over my dripping lips,
jumping as it hit my clit, just waiting a second
at the entrance. Then in one long slow thrust he
entered me, ramming his long dick all the way in.
He slowly pulled out again, grabbed my hips for
leverage and thrust it hard and deep inside
again. My forehead hit the window pane, and I had
to use all my strength, pushing back against him
as he sped up faster and faster. My tits were
flying wildly, sometimes finding a rhythm making
them go in a circular motion and sometimes just
bouncing back and forth. I slowly moved my hands
up the window, wanting my tits to visible from
the front, not just hanging below me.

"Show them how much you love this. Make sure they
can see your facial expression. Don't hold back."
He sounded like a move director in a cheap movie.

But I didn't have to pretend. This was really
good sex. He was fucking like a rabbit. Really
fast and hard. I don't quite know what my face
showed, but I certainly wasn't trying to hide
anything. I now stood up all the way, putting my
hands over my head holding his head behind mine.
He pushed me hard up against the window, my
breasts squeezed against the cold pane of glass
so hard I feared it might break.

"Don't worry about the glass, it is security
glass - won't break for anything," he gasped.

I felt the first signs of an upcoming climax: hot
feeling in the stomach, legs going heavy. Then a
ripple surging up inside me, my nipples going
numb for a second and then super sensitive. In
this position he was hitting my g-spot with each
thrust adding another strong sensation to the
orchestra of feelings. I could hear his breathing
labouring, speeding up.

"Of fuck, I can't hold back any more," Jason
cried into my ear.

I was glad the window was security glass as
otherwise we would have ended outside in a heap
of glass, the way he pumped his semen into me
with his last violent thrusts.

"Please, Jason," I whispered out of breath, "I am
not there yet, please finish me off."

I grabbed his hands and put them down my front
leaning back against him. A finger quickly found
my clit, expertly rubbing it lightly but
consistently to make the build-up slow but steady
with no interruptions. I could again concentrate
my feelings. Jason's other hand found a breast to
fondle, rolling the hard nipple between his
fingers.

"Just imagine the show we are putting on," Jason
whispered in my ear. "Put one foot up on the
windowsill and spread your legs as much as
possible, I want them to be able to see my
fingers playing with you."

Not that I had forgotten about the spectators out
there, but the sex was good and I had been
concentrating on Jason and our actions.

"Do you think they are masturbating out there
now?" I asked Jason, breathlessly. The thought
was awesome. How many hard dicks shooting their
load into the trees because of me?

"Yes, they are all dreaming about being the lucky
one in here, playing with your tits like this."

He was squeezing my breast into a cone, the
nipple pointing into the bushes.

"And forcing you legs apart so they can see your
beautiful pussy, dreaming of positioning their
rods between those lovely large swollen lips,
plunging into you, hoping to make you scream with
desire . . ."

His fingers were pulling my lips apart as he
spoke, digging a couple of them into me almost
lifting me into the air, while maintaining the
steady rhythmic rubbing on my exposed clit with
the other.

"Tell me what you feel and later I will tell them
so they can dream of having been in here with
you," he instructed.

 "I feel the build up in my stomach, a warm
feeling. Drifting, almost an out-of-body
experience, looking down on myself. I feel small
ripples of contractions just inside my pussy...
Oh yeah, stronger now." I was panting heavily
finding it difficult to concentrate on speaking.
"Right - go on squeezing my breast. Pinch my
nipples... Oh yeah, just like that. I am coming
now. Biiiiig one hitting me nooooow!!!"

I was thrashing my head from side to side as the
contractions hit. I loved the way Jason pinched
my nipples, just borderline on pain. I was
arching backwards, presenting the best view of my
pussy, rippling with the contractions, until the
last big one hit me and I doubled over, having to
rest my hands on the windowsill while slowly I
came down from my high again.

I stood up, turned around and gave Jason a long,
loving kiss.

He guided me over to the sofa and we sat down
together, me leaning up against him, still trying
to recover and regain my breath.

"Well, if that doesn't give me a lot of points I
don't know what will. They will be speaking of
this for a long time I can assure you." Jason was
lovingly stroking my hair as he spoke.

 "I don't know if we should have done this," I
said, bad conscience hitting me. It really wasn't
very fair to Poul.

"I know, but having done it, I can only say that
it was a fantastic experience. I admit to having
had dreams about you, but I never knew or
imagined that anything like this would ever
happen. Was it just the thought of those guys out
there that pressed your button?"

 "Yeah, now you know my little secret. I have a
dark side, loving to expose myself, and if I can
do it making love at the same time, that really
gets me going," I said wondering at the same time
if it was a good idea to admit this to Jason.

 I looked at the clock on the wall.

"Shit Jason, it is almost 10. I've got to get
dressed, I don't want the warden finding us like
this," I said rushing up looking for my clothes.

"I guess he was the warden out in the bushes, so
he has probably seen all of you anyway. But I
agree we better get dressed anyway,"

There was a knock on the door.

"Times is up in there," we heard through the
door.

I grabbed my shirt, picking up the skirt as I
heard the key in the door.

"Shit, Jason, he is coming in now," I exclaimed
with a small shriek.

I managed to get the shirt on and the skirt up,
but was still buttoning buttons of the shirt when
the door opened. I hid behind Jason as I zipped
up the skirt. There was no chance of putting on
any underwear now. Not that I'd found it anyway.
Jason was still pulling on his trousers.

The guard just stood in the doorway looking at
us.

"Jason you better get dressed while I take the
lady out. We have to have her out before the
gates shut," the guard said to Jason, while he
kept looking at me as if I still wasn't dressed.
Under his stare I felt I wasn't.

I was trying to get my shoes on when Jason bent
down and fished out my underwear from under the
sofa where it had landed some time during the
commotion.

"Bye Jenny," he said as he kissed me goodbye and
handed me the underwear. "You better remember
these or Poul might wonder what happened."

Great, I thought, now the guard could be in no
doubt that I had no underwear on as we walked
out.

I tried to get my jacket on as we went down the
corridor, but with a handbag in my hand and the
guard lightly holding my elbow, I gave up and
just folded it over my arm. I could feel Jason's
semen running down my legs as we rushed down the
corridor to the entrance of the visiting area.

Another couple of guards at the reception looked
at me. I felt they must be able to see I had no
underwear on, but I was out so quickly I didn't
get a chance to check their reaction.

At the door the guard let go of my elbow, looked
down my front illuminated by the strong spotlight
over the entrance.

"I hope you will visit Jason again soon. I'll
look forward to seeing you again."

It was said neutrally, but I was in no doubt what
he was hinting at. The same as when he deposited
me in the visiting room with Jason. "See you"
took on a whole new meaning.

I ran to the car, got in and locked the doors.
Not that I thought anybody was out there, but you
never know if any of the guys from the bushes was
still out there waiting for me to finish off the
evening with a live performance. I sped out of
the parking lot, trying to get a Kleenex between
my legs to soak up the moisture which I didn't
want on either my skirt or the seat.

Poul was still in his office when I got home, so
I just called to him that I was going to have a
bath and jump in bed. I didn't hear his grumbled
answer; I just ran upstairs, hid my underwear in
the washing basket and jumped into a hot bath.

I felt dirty now that the excitement had gone. I
didn't know if I could possibly go back to Jason
now. I had planned on seeing him regularly, but
now I didn't know. I felt that if I went back I
would be expected to repeat the performance, if
for nothing else then for his sake, and right now
I felt bad about the whole thing. But as I rested
in the hot tub, I also knew that if I did go back
the excitement might get the better of me again.

Ouch  . . .  Sex is so difficult to handle.

-- 
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