Perverts 'R' Us

Like Father, Like Son, Part 4

By Willowall ( M, mast )

* * *

Hey guys. You haven't seen any new stories from your pal Willowall in over a year because I've been... away. Well, okay, it's more like I've been locked up. Got caught with my hand in the cookie jar, so to speak.

It's great to be out. I'm in Africa now, visiting some friends. Nice thing about Africa is that there's lots of cookies, so I think I'm going to like it here. While I was gone, I got a lot of emails from readers like you, wondering what I've been up to, and begging for more stories. I've got a lot of fans. Man, there's some sick motherfuckers out there!

Here's the crazy thing -- I met one of my biggest fans while I was locked up! To protect the guilty, I won't give his real name -- let's call him Jim Kimifucker (private joke -- he'll get a kick out of that name when I send him a copy of this.) Jim was my cellmate.

When I first got there I told him I was in for attempted murder, and he told me he was in for killing someone while drunk driving. I knew how dangerous it could be to be thought of as a diddler, so I didn't want anyone to know what I was really there for. Especially Jim. He didn't seem like the kind of guy you'd want to make mad.

He's a white guy, in his early 50s, about 6 foot 5, and probably 230 pounds. He's got a shaved head, very muscular, with some bad-ass tattoos on his arms, stomach and back. He looked like one mean, crazy motherfucker, but in reality was pretty cool.

When we first met he tried to make me feel right at home. "Welcome to the bachelor pad," he told me, patting me on the back. I told him I had never been in prison before, and admitted I was scared, but he tried to make me feel okay, and show me the ropes.

He said I was lucky to have him as a buddy because he'd protect me from the niggers and other crazies, and he wasn't looking for any sexual favors in return. That was a big relief, because I had heard all the horror stories about being ass-raped in prison.

He told me, "I hate that fag shit you see around here," and he warned me "If you try any of that shit with me I'll fuckin' kill you."

"Hey, you got nothing to fear from me!" I told him, relieved. That was the last thing I wanted.

"You can beat off all you want. We all do it. Just keep your loads on your side of the cell!" he told me, laughing.

Even though Jim seemed like a good guy who wouldn't hurt me, I still remained cautious about revealing anything about the nature of my crime. But then just a few days into my sentencing, while I was in the exercise yard, someone told me the true story of Jim's incarceration. Or what he knew about it anyway.

When we got back to the cell, my heart was beating fast and I had butterflies in my stomach, and knew I just had to say something.

"So, uhh, Jim, I got something I wanna tell you," I said.

"Yeah, what's up buddy?"

"Well, you know, I just got to be totally honest with you because you've been so cool and I don't want to lie anymore."

"Yeah, well go on," he said.

"Well, I'm not really in here for attempted murder."

Jim put his magazine down and looked over at me, sitting across the cell on my bed.

"Oh yeah? So what's the story, buddy?"

I looked nervously around, worried that someone else would hear me.

"Well... uh..." I trailed off.

He got up and sat next to me on the bed.

"What is it, buddy? What did ya do?"

I put my hand to my chin and looked into his face for a second. Then I patted him on the back and whispered into his ear, "Same thing you did, old man!"

* * *

Over the next two years, Jim became the best friend I ever had. In a way, it seemed we were destined to become friends, and here's why.

Just a few days after we shared our dirty little secret with each other, he handed me a stack of papers.

"Here, buddy, I should have given these to you before. They're some stories I used to read back home. I had another buddy send them to me a few weeks ago. They oughta get you cumming."

There were about 30 pages of stories in very small type printed out on computer paper, with titles like "Fucking My Little Girl," "A Club of the Japanese Businessmen," and other pedo themes. I could tell I was going to enjoy them. But when I turned to the sheet of paper with the title "Give the Dog a Bone," on it, and another one with "Sex Store Cindy," and then "Amanda Gets Zipped," I dropped them all on the floor!

"Holy shit!" I yelled. "These are my stories!"

"What are you talking about?" he said.

"Dude, I wrote these stories! I'm Willowall!" I told him.

"Are you shittin' me? You wrote these?"

He told me what a big fan of the stories he was and how he beats off to them all the time, and then he dropped a bombshell.

"You fucker," he told me. "It's one of those stories that got me in here."

He then went to his bed and pulled some folded papers out of the mattress. It was my story, "Like Father, Like Son."

"At the time I read this story, I was working in a children's hospital on the night shift for a living. When I read it, it was like it was written just for me."

Part of the story involved a man who worked at a nursing home, where he would rape a bedridden 10-year-old girl who was in a coma every night. Jim read part of my own story back to me:

"Buck was about 6 foot 4, 220 pounds, in his 50s, and aside from a beer gut, a pretty well-built guy. Someone you definitely wouldn't want to get in a fight with."

Jim put the paper down and said, "Buddy, when I read that I thought -- wow, this fucker is writing about me!"

He said, "I had been thinking for some time how easy it would be to fuck one of the girls in the hospital, because she was bedridden just like the girl in the story, and this is all it took to help me make up my mind. I did it the next night, and kept doing it for 6 months until I got caught."

The girl, named Kim, was 9 years old, a blond with smooth, pale skin and an angelic face. She had been in a car accident when she was 4, which rendered her totally paralyzed. Her parents had long abandoned her, so she just lay in her bed 24-hours a day, just three perfectly useable holes and no way to stop them from being penetrated.

"It was the sweetest pussy I ever had," Jim told me. "The first few times I fucked her it actually hurt my dick because it was so tight."

"Did she know what you were doing to her?" I asked

"Oh I think she did!" Jim laughed. "I would stare into them eyes when I banged on her, and there was a lot of times some tears would start rolling down her cheeks. I just licked them up and rode her harder!"

"Dude, that's fucking awesome," I said, slapping him on the back.

"You wanna see her?" he said, getting up and pulling a Polaroid picture out of the mattress. It was just a picture of her face.

"I took this picture while I was balls deep inside her cunt!" he proudly told me.

She had the look of a deer caught in the headlights, eyes staring straight into the camera.

"I bet you really ripped that pussy apart," I told him.

"You know it, buddy. I sure fucking did! The pussy, the ass and the throat! A little girl of her size would be in serious pain if you put just a few inches of dick in her, and you know how big I am."

"No, I don't," I said. "Are you big?"

"Oh, I thought you seen me jackin' off. Yeah, I'm big," he said proudly.

He stood up, pulled down the elastic waist of his pants, and sat back down on the bed next to me. "Nine fat inches of baby fucker, right here," he bragged, stroking on his cock. "Go ahead, pull your meat out and lets have a shot at little Amy."

He didn't have to ask twice. Soon we were both shooting loads on the Polaroid picture, straight for bedridden Amy's "purty little face".

* * *

Being locked up with Jim was actually not a bad time. We spent almost every waking moment of the day talking about little cunt, beating off, and then resting up to start all over again. We had an ongoing contest to see who could shoot the most in a day. He won with 9 loads in one day. My limit was 7.

The highlight of the day was when the mail would arrive because sometimes a buddy from the outside would send some cute little girl pics. They were legal, clothed pics torn out of catalogs. We'd then cut the head off and paste it on a picture of a nude, petite, legal-aged girl and have a good nasty whack at our own home-made KP, popping loads all over the girl's face.

Another treat was when the newspaper arrived, with an ongoing report of a 7-year-old who had been abducted. We loved fantasizing about what happened to her.

Then the news came that I was being released early because of good behavior. I was glad to go, but I was sad to leave Jim behind. The last week I was there he asked me a favor.

It turns out that after Jim got caught fucking Amy, Amy got sent to a nursing home in Canada. He had read in the court documents exactly what nursing home she was in, and would I mind checking in on her. Maybe take her picture? A nice close-up of her face, perhaps.

He'll be getting the picture soon. It's a nice photo of a little girl looking straight into the camera lens. You can only see her from the neck up. And it's hard to describe the look on her face...

Sort of like a deer caught in the headlights.

* * *

Part 5 coming eventually. Write to Willowall at monsterwadd@yahoo.com for story ideas, suggestions, questions, etc…

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