I watched as Jane ran her hands up and down her smooth body, following the line of her legs, over her toned stomach and across her shoulders. My cock ...as getting hard again, imagining her stroking and fingering her pussy all over again. Jane and I lay there for about 45 minutes, just chatting about her job, my studies, boys, girls and what we wanted from the future. It was nice just spending time with jane, and it wasn't long before I'd completely forgotten about the fact that I was lying there. I’ve also learned, at the window in the room halfway down that horror-movie hallway, that in order to get enough of what you want or need, you have to barter. Prison commissary only allows so much per section. Ten-ish snacks. 20-ish drink mixes per week. Get ten coffee, then you don’t have enough hot cocoa to make it decent. You can barter for more than coffee. Portraits of loved ones, drawn with stubby pencils, eight-by-ten, and from snapshots sent in letters, can be had for a couple of candy. More

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