Pleasure Thieves

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Their silent pounding bodies were suddenly accompanied by the jangling of door keys getting closer to the cell. They rushed their pleasure, hoping to cheat the always present, always might-be-present guard.

"Faster, faster, for Christ's sake," the younger man pleaded. And the rattling created by their bodies stopped, replaced by the unmistakable sound of a key sliding into the heavy iron lock. The older man with the wise lined face pulled his body away from the young imploring animal.

"You're insane." The door was swinging open, and his fear made him limp.

"Coward, coward," Harry mocked, and with a graceful arc, his body was off the cot and standing at the sink, his back to the unannounced guard. The jailer looked knowingly at Phillip, stretched out on the cot, lighting a long American cigarette. Then he regarded the shuddering back of the tall blond thief. The young ones needed it a lot. The older ones could do without, but they taught their inexperienced brothers.

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