Gay Prison Penpals Novels & Stories

, said Javi and the minute I reached my cell and collapsed on my floppy bed, the only thing I wished was for the man who kept calling me friend to be deported to another prison before sun down when he had to fucking mingle with other inmates. ‘You play basketball? We have a good court if you would be interested”, Javi spoke behind me. I took long strides to that favorite spot of mine that no one occupied. The last thing I would do in prison was play basketball with who were far more aggressive than fallen soldiers with PTSD. That was asking for trouble on the high chance you won the game while playing with lunatics who never knew what losing meant. Passing past the weight lifts, past the sec

My name is Riley, and today is the day Roman gets out. I have been counting down for three years, two months, and fourteen days—ever since the judge’s gavel fell and they took him away in chains for a crime he swears he didn’t commit. Armed robbery. Ten years reduced to four with good behavior and a letter-writing campaign led by an eighteen-year-old girl who barely knew what she was doing. Me. It started with a school project—write to a prisoner, learn about the justice system. I picked his name off a list because his mugshot looked sad, not scary. Dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes that stared straight into the camera like he was daring the world to blink first.

Not to one man in Cell 14. It trended in 2 hours. `#NoGhosts` *9. 6:30pm. Kano Max. Cell 14* New guards. New cameras. New lock. James sat in the corner. Guard: “No more mail. No more visitors. No more paper.” James: “For how long?” Guard: “16 years.” He looked at the scratched `DAY 5488`. Then at the new camera in the corner. Red light on. *10. 9:00pm. Rooftop*

He was currently penniless and had previously escaped an attempt at hardship. The past winter, once again being hungry and frigid, he had allowed a patrolman to capture him. Alas, this time the ploy failed: when he was brought before the umpire, he was considered too old to go to an orphanage, and he was thrown into a penitentiary instead. Prison had proved to be a disastrous price to pay for some bread and a roof over his head. The situations were even more desperate than in the orphanages. He was in a tiny, moist cell with dozens of other felons, with a few dusty chunks of straw for a pallet. His fellow inhabitants were a blend of hoboes like himself, trivial fugitives, debtors, madmen, dr

MOLLY I was taking stock of my life. It felt appropriate to do that while I was in the slammer. Except I wasn’t. I didn’t think. We were in a building with cement walls, uncomfortable benches, and metal chairs. No windows. I didn’t think we were at a police station, but there were police here. Across from me at a metal table in the front lounge area was my new pen pal. Ritalicious was fabulous. Her pink nails, eyelashes, and feathers were on point. I now had a new obsession with feathers, faux feathers though. Not real feathers. But also, she gave me the name of a gay bar that she promised had the best shows.

“Names.” I leaned back, arms crossing. “Aight. You want the street names or you want the government?” He didn’t even roll his eyes, pen poised. “Street names first,” I muttered. “Aight… the first dude is Snakebite. He’s in Waller Penitentiary in Mexico.” Quincy wrote it down neatly, the kind of handwriting that belonged to people who still believed notebooks were sacred objects. “The second one’s Jag,” I continued. “He got transferred to Eastwood Federal in London.”

"Gabriella, we grew up together. We've been friends for more than 20 years! We were together for such a long time. Can you really bear to watch me get arrested and sent to prison? "I'll admit that I was wrong, but I only did it because I needed more resources and more entertainment gigs! Please give me another chance! I know I was wrong now! I don't want to go to jail! I'm still young! I still have a future ahead of me! "If I end up in jail, my life will be utterly ruined! Please, we've been friends for years! "You damn bitch! Are you going to give me that statement of forgiveness or not? Tell me how much money you want from me! I'm telling you—if I end up getting sentenced to jail, I swear

At this time, Elaine looked at the female prison guard before slowly putting down the magazine in her hand as she said with some dissatisfaction, “Lucia, it’s not that I want to complain about you, but the magazines that you’ve been delivering to me these days are all too boring. The stories in the magazines are bad, vulgar, and not educational at all. Can’t you get me a few copies of ‘Soulmates’ instead?” “‘Soulmates’?” The female prison guard was a native Oskian-American, so she did not know what Soulmates was at all. So, she asked nervously, “Elaine, what is this ‘Soulmates’ you’re talking about?”

"Well, I kind of dated a guy, so we broke up and he came back with his ex-wife. So he broke up with her, and we kind of came back. Then we realized that we didn't work that way, together, and we moved away again. The problem is that separately we didn't work very well either, so we maintained a colorful friendship relationship. It lasted a while, I mean, until this month we were fine, but... I don't know. I couldn't continue. I’ve been running away from his calls for days. And you?” Pablo burst into laughter. So it took me a while to understand that he was laughing because he considered the idea that an inmate could be dating someone absurd. On second thought, it really didn't make any sense

Assuming I ever got out of jail. It wasn’t like on T.V. or in the movies, being in jail. For one thing, it didn’t smell like puke or body odor. Rather, the stringent scent of bleach stung my nose. And there wasn’t a drunk in the corner singing himself to sleep or a streetwalker with a heart of gold offering encouragement. I was alone in the cell – completely, utterly alone. I would even have welcomed the company of a tattooed gang-banger as long as he didn’t have a shiv hidden in the toe of his boot. I so wanted to get out of this place, but I didn’t have money for bail. I was good and stuck. Damn Jason Anders and his crazy vendetta against me! Was it me personally, or reporters in general,