That Post-Prison Glow
Even before I came to jail I was above-average bonerable. Lotsa broads wanted to bang me just to see the look on my face (or to feel the rock-hard abs and glutes). Post-jail, I’m a whole new level of pussy-pleasing, pornstar-replica master because I haven’t been drinking, smoking, or hard-partying, but I have been sleeping, eating, and exercising like a fiend (and fervently blowing out the gunk). Also, this summer I have adopted the hobby of tanning—I look like the most bonerablessed Mexican ever. However, my “look” isn’t the reason any female in her sane mind would want to welcome me with open arms and legs after my celibate sabbatical. Allow me to explain the science behind the prison “glow.”
White girls (for the most part) are 100 percent clueless about the glow. Over a year ago my (now ex) girl was told about it on a bus. She asked me, “What is this “glow” I keep hearing about? Is it for real?” Not enough white guys get locked up for the glow to by mythologized in white culture.
It’s almost unfathomable how much love lies dormant in an inmate. It’s human nature, plain and simple, that I’m going to explode when I get the chance… over and over again. I am kind-hearted to begin with (I feel fulfilled when they get their fill, chicken chow mein?), and it’s crazy how much making up I have to do for all the lack of loving I’ve been livin’. Do you have any idea how much love I’m going to spray all over the place when I’m out in the real world? I’d say at least ten gallons worth. This sexual aspect is just one benefit of the “glow.”
There’s a physical and spiritual element to the glow, too. The physical is probably the easiest to understand: I have been working out like a maniac—lots of guys in prison do. Even without exercise, we’d still probably look better walking out than we did coming in. I haven’t been shitfaced in two years, I sleep ten to 12 hours a day and drink about ten cups of fancy hippie tea every day. On top of that, I eat three to five meals a day of mostly very healthy grub, and I do a physical fitness regimen that easily ranks among the top .001 percent of crackers out there. I’m basically a professional athlete. I haven’t looked this sexy since I was an elite hockey-playing Connecticut pool boy in ’98.
The spiritual aspect is a little more complex. I am a bona fide reborn virgin. It is very important to me that the right lucky young lady gets to pop this overripe cock cherry. None of you girls will ever get close to deflowering a man again unless you pluck one fresh from jail. I might tremble and openly weep afterwards.
Let me give you one more reason that my convict big dick fucking will be the bossest when I step straight out of the slammer. I am an ill pervert, straight up and down. No bones about it. I’d fuck me silly sideways and suck me off till Tuesday. The average dummy coming out of jail is 20 times better at fucking than the average guy on the street who takes it for granted. I have a repertoire of great fucking maneuvers to perform—a way to please and percolate every orifice, opening, and hole. I wrote hundreds of pages describing these elaborate sexcapades, and they are all stored up in my brainium waiting to get played out.
I am just one example of an inmate with a “glow.” There are about 85,000 in various prisons all over New York State, so I figure there are always a lot of love-filled dudes on their way home. We have a glow and we’re ready to blow our girls’ minds. It’s all we want to do. I also miss just sitting down, holding hands across a dinner table and talking about our day while looking each other in the eye. That’s part of the glow too. It’s the only time that we’re probably happy to sit down and discuss feelings for a long period of time. We’re fresh out of jail. We’ve been useless to women for so long that we’re ready to do anything and everything to make them proud of us again. Or at least that’s how it is for me.
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