InCorrections - Sex Stories

InCorrections

From the author of Another Yard and Driven Lust Wayne Stewart INCORRECTIONS Copyright © 2014 Wayne Stewart As with any fictional story, this is for entertainment only. Please direct any complaints regarding character words or actions to the fictional character portraying the offense. WARNING: This book contains adult language and depictions of adult sexual acts, which may not be suitable for teenagers below the age of 16; or for anyone who does not wish to read stories containing written descriptions of explicit, erotic sexual behavior. It does contain serious, humorous, and interesting stories of contemporary literature and fictional tales of both romance and adventure; and is intended for a mature audience. Chapter 1 Ok, I’m no macho man. Call it metabolism or genetics; I’m just not bulky like most guys. Maybe I’m just a late bloomer. That’s the reason I was picked for the heist. The plan was simple enough. All I had to do was climb into the ventilation, drop into the jewelry store, and unlock the damn door. The guys would enter, grab the loot, fence it, and split the cash with me. Now, before you listen to them tell you what an idiot I was, let me explain. The cheap shoes I had was all I could afford. They weren’t gripping the metal the way I needed them to and my ponytail, past my shoulders in length, got caught by the hinge on the screen cover at the end. I know, cut the hair, pull or yank it out; all sounds great on paper. But you can’t do that when you’ve knocked ...

... yourself out. I got a nasty concussion to prove it. By the time I came to, one cop was shaking his head at me while the other was talking to the girl that opened the store. That left me, kicking air over a display case. Yeah, they were pretty impressed when I started showing life, being anything but dead. Even the clerk fainted. Firemen entered and got me lose and somebody posted it all on the internet. Besides being the police and firemen’s best laugh of the day, I was the laugh of the medics, web surfers, and jailers. The Boston City Dangler, they labeled me. Off to jail I went until court date. I tried to argue that I was looking around and just happened to fall in there but they gave me a year in detention center anyway. If I had the money for a real lawyer, I bet I could have gotten away with it. As for my accomplices; once I was swinging in the air, they were gone like ghosts. I never did hear from them again. My parents weren’t class citizens to begin with so you know they weren’t showing up around cops. They were as gone like ghosts as my partners in crime were. So, off to the slammer I went to await my trial. Searched in every crevasse of my body, given an orange jumper, I was tossed in a jail with the rest of the delinquents. The time between hearing and sentencing was quick. I was given a year with the pound of a gavel and thrown in a cell at the bottom of the courthouse. “Tonya Darling?” a female deputy called. I looked around the best I could through the bars for ...