Women's House of Detention Revisited - Cover

Women's House of Detention Revisited

Copyright© 2012 by harry lime

Chapter 2

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - This is a story of the infamous "Women's House of Detention" in New York City. It is related to a previous story told in several chapters about the same subject. This is an entirely different story and more related to the location than to actual characters.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Consensual   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Spanking   Humiliation   Interracial   Black Female   White Male   Hispanic Female   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Squirting   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Public Sex  

The original three chapters of this story were called simply "The Women's House of Detention". As I explained in my introductory chapter of this continuation labeled (Revisited) the locale of the "Women's House of Detention" was real and existed in the heart of Manhattan. Most of the referenced points of interest have changed drastically over the years. The decline of ornate movie houses, the closing of large faith-based hospitals, even the complete re-vamping of Washington Square into modern day use for a changing clientele makes the setting almost a fairy tale of a place in time that no longer exists.

The treatment of the prisoners inside the prison was more outrageous than the way the prisoners in Gitmo get to watch cable television and their own soccer field. In many cases, the guards were more criminal in their activities than the inmates were in committing the minor crimes that got them incarcerated in the first place. One strikingly similar aspect was that the females in the place were primarily African-American and Hispanic, just as they are today in the modern penal system.

With these two chapters in the (Revisited) section, there are five chapters all together.

CONCLUSION

I wrapped the loose cigarettes up in the aluminum foil and tossed them up with great accuracy into the open window several feet above my head. I could hear the women scrambling around inside and then I heard Rosa's loud voice,

"Bring those babies over to mama, bitch, before I have to cut you."

I knew the other women were afraid of Rosa and probably for good reason. I had no illusions that my unseen locked up friend was any beauty and knew she was probably Hispanic and fatter than my pretty overweight mother. Still, my fantasy world pictured her as just like Eva Marie Saint going down on Marlon Brando in "On the Waterfront". I could almost feel her soft lips wrapped around my teenaged cock sucking me dry and spitting my cum out on the blistering hot sidewalk. A little package shaped like a little ball came sailing out and I managed to catch it before it hit the cement.

"Holy crap!"

I shouted out the words joyfully hardly aware that I was making a fool of myself on the thankfully almost deserted street.

It was the promised pair of panties that were supposedly fresh off Rosa's wet cunt all nice and dirty for me to sniff and picture her underneath me when I shot my load. They had a scent that was a mixture of sweet perfume, dried sweat and unmistakable feminine juices. I wanted to shove them in my own mouth but didn't do that because they would be spoiled with my saliva. I wrapped them carefully in the small piece of tin foil that I had left over and shouted up to the window.

"Thanks, Rosa, I am going to use these tonight at midnight, so if you are still awake you can figure I got my cock all over them."

The sounds of laughter wafted down from the window.

"That boy is after your ass, Rosa. You better watch out, he is going to give you a baby right up your poop hole."

I saw a pair of female uniformed guards turning the corner and I took off at a fast pace but not running to look suspicious. I jaywalked the corner and headed up a narrow residential street past black iron stairs leading up to solid looking brownstones with the windows all sporting bars like the jail but to keep criminals out and not in.

My trip to the draft board came the following Monday because they were real strict in making certain every swinging dick got their first taste of lost freedom at the crack of eighteen. It didn't seem fair to me that the girls all got a pass on the road to being "cannon fodder" but I suspected it was because they couldn't shoot straight and carry heavy stuff. I had to laugh because I had just seen a movie about "Annie Oakley" and it sure seemed like if they had an Army filled with Annie Oakley's they would be winning every battle. They stamped me fit for duty but I knew it would be a long time before they got around to me. The possibility of getting killed young struck me as a real motivation to getting laid before I went to either heaven or hell as a fucking virgin. I pulled out the card the older broad in the movie had slipped to me giving me the distinct impression she was looking to sample my cock in the horizontal position. Maybe she was all cooled off on that score but it was worth a call just to see how the wind blew.

The voice that answered the phone was kind of flat almost like a recording but it was a real live girl and all she said was,

"Mrs. Delahunt's office. She is out of the office right now but if you leave your name and number, she will call you as soon as she gets back."

It sounded real legit and I found myself wondering what she did for a living that caused her to have business cards, and a secretary and stuff that usually only businessmen have to run their business. She certainly was no housewife even if she did wear a ring and was married. I gave my home number and told the nice lady that the call was from "Bobby" and she would know who it was. I heard the giggle at the other end of the line and I started to have dark thoughts about the female voice that suddenly didn't sound so tired any more.

I hung around the house by myself for a couple of hours and waited for the phone to ring. After that, I just gave up and headed downstairs to play some stickball while the light was still good.

When I came in the front door, my mom was on the phone talking.

"Over here, Bobby, this nice lady wants to talk to you. She says you left your papers in her office the other day and she wants you to stop by and pick them up. I wrote down the address. It is right up on Park Avenue. I didn't know you were applying for a job there. It sounds like a nice place to start out learning about things."

I took the phone from my mother thinking that the things I was interested in learning about were situated right smack dab in the middle of Mrs. Delehunt's short fat legs and she would be shocked how much I wanted to shove my head up there as well.

"Hello, Mrs. Delehunt. This is Bobby. I called the number on the card just like you told me to if I wanted to continue our conversation."

Actually, most of our "conversing was the old fashioned kind with the tips of our fingers in dark wet places and the touch of our tongues on soft sweetly scented skin. I knew that the older lady was not really pretty and she had a serious weight issue, but in all honesty, I was hot to trot to get my dick into action and her attitude was friendly beyond expectation and I got hard just thinking about her soft hazel eyes looking up at me with my dick stuffed inside her mature female mouth.

"Hello, Bobby. Your mother has my address. There is time to get something done this afternoon if you still have time. Just tell the doorman you have an appointment with Mrs. Delehunt on the fifth floor and he will buzz you up with no difficulty. I will be waiting. Remember to bring that thing we discussed at some length. I can't wait to get started on it once again. See you soon."

I knew she was talking about my cock and I figured there was someone standing right next to her listening and she was being extremely careful about what she said.

Her building was almost like a castle fortress.

It had a high front façade with a high quality canopy outside with the numbers 330 emblazoned like some egotistical announcement that everyone who passed would know immediately where and what it was. You really couldn't tell if it was residential or commercial but my gut reaction was that it was a combination of both and that a lot of the residents conducted their business from offices connected to their living quarters. The glass covered plaque in the lobby had the names of several businesses with the floor numbers next to the name and I saw her name for the fifth floor section. It said that she was a "Clinical Psychologist" and that a Doctor Zaminski was also an "associate" whatever the fuck that meant. I figured if it was a he, Doctor Delahunt was not getting nailed by him or her husband either from the way she was dying to get screwed in the movie theater. Well, she had seen me in the light of the lobby and still gave me her card so she must have liked me even if I did have a couple of unfortunate zits on my forehead that annoyed the hell out of me.

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