Finally, my so-called jail friend from Long Island told me his wife had a friend who would drive up with her and visit me. She wrote me and seemed totally spunky, drawing smiley faces and writing shit like, “I can’t wait to meet you!” I started to leak out of my semi-rigid dick. I did pushups, ironed clothes while practicing Kegels, and tweezed hairs all over the place so I’d be sharp and precise everywhere. I daydreamed about this beautiful piece of misunderstood trash from the gutters of Riverhead trailer parks. I was hoping she would be pleasantly plump with a face full of potential. I would motivate her to lose weight with my good-natured cheer and then pork her ragged when I got out. I was determined to fuck the fat off of this unseen beast. I would shower her with sperm and make her buy me steroids so I could bone her with more aggressive rage and take all her money. I wanted a quasi-chunky sugar mama sex slave with little to no inhibition and relatively few qualms with being tied up and degraded. I was delirious with delight and my dizzle drizzled 24/7. I beat off all day everyday, picturing what my savior would look like. I was hoping for something Rikki Lake-esque. I thought of a thousand things to talk about. I crafted hours of stimulating conversations that all culminated with her taking my tumescent hog in her fat, greasy mouth.