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Prison Exposure
By Jennifer Doalfer
Copyright 2007 Jennifer Doalfer
(Exhib, MF)



And here I thought my exciting life was on hold! 
Not so, I am pleased to say. Read what has just 
happened to me . . . 

A very, very, with stress on the second "very", 
good friend of mine got into some trouble a 
couple of years ago. I guess you could call it 
"white collar crime" as it really only would 
happen to one of the suit boys. Here in Denmark 
you can beat a guy to pulp and get a two-month 
suspended sentence, but if you do something a 
little creative with your, or somebody else's 
money, you end up in jail for four years. 

To my mind Jason really hasn't done anything bad. 
He explored the boundaries, believing he was on 
the right side of the law. But people got 
jealous, the press got their nose into it and the 
public opinion forced the judges of the ensuing 
trial to interpret the boundary line differently, 
resulting in a four year sentence for Jason.

Jason lost his business, house and family, but 
fortunately not a few devoted old friends. 

I don't know very much about the prison system 
here in Denmark, but apparently you have to apply 
for visits, and you only get so many per month or 
week. Even though I was a good friend, Jason’s 
mother, sister and children obviously came first, 
so when I could finally see him he had already 
been inside for six weeks. 

"Are you sure you don't want to come along", I 
asked Poul once more at the dinner table. Jason 
wasn't really Poul's friend, but they got along 
fine, and honestly I felt a bit uncomfortable 
going to a prison on my own. Jason was in what 
they call an "open" prison, which means there are 
no walls, just a line which you cannot cross. If 
you cross it you go straight to a closed prison 
with none of the perks allowed in the open 
prison. However, a prison to me was a prison, 
with guards, dogs, surveillance, rough inmates 
and strict discipline. Not really my everyday cup 
of tea. 

"Not really", Poul replied. "I am busy, and if I 
know Jason, he would probably like it better if 
he had a chance to talk with you in confidence. 
He might need a shoulder to cry on, and you are 
much better at that".  

I might be uncomfortable with prisons, but Poul 
is uncomfortable with emotions. 

I kept on my business suit as I felt that might 
demand a bit of respect at the prison and 
distance me from some of the different types of 
people I expected to meet. I had been given the 
late slot from 8 - 10 PM, normally reserved for 
family who couldn't get the time off, so it had 
already started to get dark when I arrived. I had 
no problems finding it as signs warned the public 
that they were in the vicinity of a prison and 
should be cautious of loitering inmates possibly 
on the run. My Mercedes stuck out like a sore 
thumb in the parking lot, but I guess it was safe 
to leave it as we were inside the controlled 
zone. 


As I checked in, having to show ID and a special 
pass sent to me in advance, I was suddenly 
worried about searches. A male guard asked me to 
step into a cubical and remove my coat and suit 
jacket. 

As I thought he was about to pat me down; I 
shuddered. I didn't like to think about how far 
he would go in feeling me up.   

"Am I not supposed to have a female attendant 
doing a search like this?" I asked with a slight 
quiver in my voice.  

He looked at me in surprise as if he only now 
realised I was a woman. 

"Sure, if I were going to do a full body search", 
he said with a friendly smile. "But, I am not 
looking for drugs, just gifts and the like which 
the inmates are not allowed to receive". 

I held out my arms expecting his hands all over 
me, but he just looked at me and nodded. 

"I guess you can't be hiding much under that 
outfit", he said smiling and let me put on my 
jacket again. I guess my white, slightly 
transparent, body-hugging shirt and tight-fitting 
skirt would not have been the chosen apparel had 
I intended to smuggle in anything of any size. 

The guard led me down a long, quite friendly 
looking corridor with doors, reminding me more of 
a hospital than a prison. 

"This doesn't look like a prison at all," I 
commented to the guard, just as much to make 
small talk and be friendly. 

"This has been designed not to give the children 
coming here to visit relatives or perhaps their 
father, a feeling of prison. It is not good for 
them if they feel their dad is in an unpleasant 
place", he explained as he unlocked a door and 
let me into a room. 

"Wait here while I go and get Jason", he 
instructed me. 

I didn't like the sound of the lock turning 
behind me. 

I went to the window and looked out. There was an 
incredible view which people with money would 
have spent a fortune to have. The window took up 
almost the entire end wall of the room, coming 
from about the height of my knees up to the 
ceiling and being probably about 10 feet wide. 
Over the dense bushes about 25 feet away, which 
obviously marked the boundary of the prison area, 
I could see a lake about half a mile away. On the 
other side of the lake the lights were coming on 
in the houses, and you could see small moving 
lights as the cars drove along the edge of the 
lake more than five miles away. There was 
absolutely no sign that this was a prison. 

The room was humid; it had been a hot spring day, 
and as the window didn't open -- I guess that was 
the only sign of this being a prison -- the air 
was stuffy. I hung my jacket over the back of one 
of the guest chairs as the key turned in the 
lock. The door opened and the guard let in Jason. 

"See you," the guard said with a wink, which I 
didn't understand. But I quickly forgot about it 
as Jason rushed over to me and gave a warm, 
friendly hug. 

"Am I glad to see you," I finally said when he 
let go of me. He held me out at arms length and 
looked me over. As with most guys his eyes just 
lingered a little too long at my chest. But that 
was OK, I was used to it, and Jason had always 
made appreciative comments on my looks and body. 

"You look like dressed to kill," he said as he 
finally looked away. 

"You don't look as bad as I had expected either," 
I said as I sat down on one of the arm chairs 
across from the couch that Jason had sat on, 
probably having hoped I would join him there. 

"I expected you to look all grey and humble," I 
said with a smile. "You look more like a tourist 
in a fancy hotel." 

"Well, I did dress up for you," he said returning 
the smile, "and after six weeks working out in 
the gym, and the last days' sun which I have 
ample opportunity to enjoy, I guess you are 
right." 

He went on for a while explaining about the 
facilities, the rough guys he tried to avoid and 
how the warders were being nice to him realizing 
he was not the usual kind of inmate. 

"That all sounds too good to be true," I said 
with a doubting look on my face. "Surely it can't 
all be that good. There must be some things that 
you miss being here."  

"I need company I can talk to on my own level. 
The conversations here are rather base. It is all 
about girls and the porn movies they see on the 
TV in the common room in the evening after the 
guards have closed up for the night. Watching and 
hearing so much about sex only makes you realise 
how long you have gone without, and how long till 
you get out." 

There was no hint of any suggestion resulting 
from this topic. We were really just good 
friends, and had we wanted to be more than that 
we would probably have taken some of the many 
opportunities which had presented themselves over 
the years. But the darker side of my mind played 
with images of horny inmates watching porn movies 
in the evenings and then all retreating to their 
rooms for relief: I could feel a slight familiar 
stirring in my lower parts. 

"Are there no women here? I thought I saw some 
when I arrived?" 

"Yes, but they are very strictly segregated. 
Saying anything more than just a quick 'hi' when 
passing them on the paths, might get you out of 
here and into a secure prison in no time at all," 
he said.  

"Well, what are they all doing for relief?" I 
asked stupidly. I knew the answer, but couldn't 
help pursuing the pictures in my mind. 

"Obviously most masturbate in their rooms. There 
is also some gay activity going on, though not 
rapes like you see in American films, it seems to 
be only between consensual males." 

Homosexuality does nothing for me, the pictures 
in my mind subsiding, but then Jason continued . 
. . 

"But you know, there are probably quite a few of 
them out in the bushes tonight," he explained. 

That got my attention. "What do you mean?"  

He walked over to the window and I rose to join 
him. 

"Normally you wouldn't be able to see them in the 
dark, but there are always some of them who can't 
live that long without a smoke. See the glow out 
there?" He got behind me and pointed, not by his 
hand, not wanting to give away the fact that we 
were looking, but by holding my head and turning 
it so I looked in the right direction. 

"Yes, I see it. But what on earth are they doing 
out there? It is on the wrong side of the safe 
line."   

"There are guards out there as well, and they 
secretly accept the transgression, as long as 
they stay in the bushes." 

"But what are they doing?"  I asked again, still 
not understanding. 

"There is this kind of dare..." Jason continued 
hesitantly. "In the gym the guys are very 
interested in who gets visits from their wives 
and girlfriends. It is quite normal for people to 
have sex in the  visiting rooms. The couch is 
wide and underneath, in that box over there, 
there are sheets, and in that drawer there are 
condoms. The guards know this and never enter the 
room during visiting hours. The guys at the gym 
used to brag about what they’d done to their wife 
and girlfriends in the visiting room. At one 
point somebody bragged about the fact that his 
wife has boobs so big that he could get it off in 
between them. The other guys didn't believe it, 
so they made a dare for him not to draw the 
curtains next time and some of the guys would 
take the risk and hide in the bushes to check out 
his story. I don't know if it was ever proven, 
but the idea caught on. If you manage to have sex 
with your wife or girlfriend without pulling the 
curtains, you really win points with the other 
guys. Sometimes their wives don't know and 
sometimes they don't mind, and I guess some do it 
to help their husbands to get the points, which 
are sorely sought after in here. But there is 
almost always something going on at one of the 
windows for the guys watching from the bushes." 

"Surely there are not that many guys in the 
bushes?" I asked. 

"When the guards caught on, they decided to 
accept it, seeing they liked the shows as well. 
They just control the number of viewers," Jason 
explained. 

My mind was playing with the images the people in 
the bushes could see. What was going on in the 
other windows which I couldn't see? Or were they 
all looking at our window hoping something would 
happen in here? Lights on the end wall, to the 
sides of the window lit up Jason and me as if we 
were on a stage, which, perhaps, we were. 

I was getting both hot and aroused. I wondered if 
Jason could detect it. I felt so weak at the  
knees that I was leaning more against him that I 
normally would have had we just been standing 
together enjoying the view. I could feel his 
heart beating hard.  

"I wonder what they think is going on in here?" I 
said in a voice huskier than I had intended. 

"I have never had any visitors where anything 
would have been possible, so I have never had any 
comments from anybody. But I bet you there are 
few guys out there holding their breath and 
hoping for a show." 

"Maybe we should give them one." I couldn't 
believe I had just said that. But the idea of 
being able to expose myself to a lot of horny 
inmates without it in any way being obvious that 
I was aware of what was going on, was just taking 
over my mind. 

"Do you mean that?" Jason asked with surprise in 
his voice. "I have dreamt about you lots of 
times, but never wanted to make any advances 
because I valued our friendship too much to risk 
it in any way." 

"Call it a friendly gesture then," I said without 
specifying who was doing the favour to whom. 

After we fell silent there was pause, just heavy 
breathing. 

"What should we do then?" Jason asked, obviously 
not wanting to take the first step. 

"You could start with unbuttoning my shirt." It 
was more a command than a suggestion. 

He put his hands on my shoulders and I leant my 
head back against him as his hands moved down to 
the top button. As the first one was being undone 
I knew there was no way back, but I didn't mind. 
The opportunity was too good to miss, and if I 
had to do something like this, Jason was just the 
guy to do it with.  

"I bet we are getting the attention of everybody 
now," Jason whispered in my ear. His hand 
continued down the front undoing all the buttons, 
pulling the shirt out of the skirt. He slipped it 
over my shoulders, but as he couldn't get it over 
my hands without undoing the cuffs, they were 
trapped behind me for a while, with my tits 
straining to get out of the bra. I looked down at 
myself and could see the hard nipples highly 
visible against the semi-transparent material. I 
wondered how obvious they were from the bushes.  

Finally he got the shirt off. He just threw it 
over the back of the chair, not troubling to hang 
it up properly. I remember hoping it wouldn't be 
too creased. I didn't want Poul to wonder what 
had been going on. He knows I normally keep my 
business outfit looking clean and sharp. 

Jason fumbled at bit with the bra like a nervous 
teenager, but finally managed to release the 
catch. He let it hang loose for just a short 
while, before he slipped it off my shoulders 
dropping it on the floor in front of me. I bent 
down to pick it up, wanting to display my free-
hanging tits to the spectators. I then got a 
pleasant surprise when my bum hit an obviously 
hard object behind me. I heard a faint grunt from 
Jason. 

"It seems like the guys in the bushes are not the 
only ones getting excited," I said as I stood up 
again. I put my hands behind me dropping the bra 
but finding the dick and rubbing it slightly. 
Putting my hands behind me again made my tits 
stand out, the nipples pointing hard towards the 
window. 

"What did you expect?" Jason answered with a 
slight hint of irritation in his voice, "that I 
would be able to just stand by passively watching 
the show?" 

"No, and I wouldn't want you to either." 

I took his hands, which had so far been by his 
sides, and placed them over my tits. I leant my 
head back against his shoulder and again gripped 
his dick through his trousers. 

"I want you to forget that I am Jenny, your old 
friend. Just imagine that I am some prostitute 
you have paid to come here to the prison for some 
much needed sex and do to me what you would have 
done to her." I was getting even hotter from this 
talk and it seemed to work on him too. 

"In that case, what I want is for you to be 
completely naked now," he said as he felt for the 
zip on the side of my skirt.  

Finding it, he quickly undid zip and button. I 
wriggled out of the skirt, again bending to pick 
it up allowing my breasts to hang free for a few 
seconds and rubbing my bum against his hard dick. 

"Stay down," he instructed as he slipped my tanga 
panties off in one quick move. As I stood up, 
leaning against him, I felt really tarty, 
standing there completely naked, with him still 
fully dressed and with an unknown number of guys 
sitting in the bushes enjoying the show.  

"Turn around and face me," he commanded. 

I did, for the first time really seeing him. He 
cupped his hands round my face, holding my head 
in as in a vice. He then slowly lowered his head 
to mine, closing for a kiss. It seemed like he 
was afraid I was going to turn away. But I 
wasn't. I really wanted his kiss, which I let him 
know by meeting his lips with a searching tongue. 
After a hot kiss he finally moved a bit away from 
me, lowering his hands to my shoulders, then 
running them down to my breasts, squeezing them, 
pinching the nipples. 

I gasped a bit and closed my eyes, indicating I 
was enjoying his caress. 

I opened them again as his hands travelled 
further down. He put one hand behind me, pushing 
me against his other hand now forcing its way 
between my legs. I spread them slightly giving 
him easier access. 

"My god you are wet," he whispered almost to 
himself. He slid two fingers into me almost 
lifting me off the floor. 

"Oh Jason," I shuddered. "Do with me what you 
want. Show your mates anything you want to show 
them, but do it quickly." 

"First we have to prolong the show a bit." Jason 
said. Then he took his fingers out, slid the wet 
fingers all the way up my front to my mouth, 
running his fingers around my lips. 

"Lick them." 

I did and tasted my own juices.  

"Now taste me," Jason said removing his fingers 
from my mouth and instead used them to undo his 
belt and unbutton his trousers. His trousers fell 
to the floor. His shorts were unable to hold his 
dick in place; it jerked out from under one of 
the legs of the boxers and started to rise to 
full erection. 

Again he took my head between his hands, this 
time forcing it down. I had to kneel. I put both 
hands on his dick, one holding it down, the other 
lightly gliding the palm over the head. 

"Here, do it from the side, so they can see 
properly," he directed as he pushed me around to 
the side. I pulled his shorts all the way off, 
and as the elastic let go his dick, it jumped up 
and hit me on the cheek. I ran my tongue over it, 
licking it, tasting his juices until finally I 
took it in my mouth as far as I could. It wasn't 
very fat, but quite long and ramrod straight. I 
could take only about half of it, but that was 
all right. I have never really understood the 
deep throat act.  If a guy wanted the feel of his 
dick entering a deep hole, there were other 
places more suitable for that. Giving head was 
about licking all the right places, and I am good 
at that. 

 "Oh god, Jen, I can't believe you are doing this 
to me. But you have to stop now." 

I did and looked up at him without understanding 
why. 

"Another 30 seconds of this and I will explode in 
your mouth, but that is not the show we want to 
be putting on," Jason managed to explain. "Seeing 
you are going along with this, I have to let them 
see me fucking you for real." 

"Right, anything you say. Just direct me." 
Anything really, I had totally lost it by now. I 
didn't care if the whole bloody prison was 
outside watching. 

He made me face the window. Then he put an arm 
around my waist using the other to push me over. 
I rested my hands on the low windowsill and 
spread my legs for him. I felt him wetting his 
dick by rubbing it all over my dripping lips, 
jumping as it hit my clit, just waiting a second 
at the entrance. Then in one long slow thrust he 
entered me, ramming his long dick all the way in. 
He slowly pulled out again, grabbed my hips for 
leverage and thrust it hard and deep inside 
again. My forehead hit the window pane, and I had 
to use all my strength, pushing back against him 
as he sped up faster and faster. My tits were 
flying wildly, sometimes finding a rhythm making 
them go in a circular motion and sometimes just 
bouncing back and forth. I slowly moved my hands 
up the window, wanting my tits to visible from 
the front, not just hanging below me. 

"Show them how much you love this. Make sure they 
can see your facial expression. Don't hold back." 
He sounded like a move director in a cheap movie. 

But I didn't have to pretend. This was really 
good sex. He was fucking like a rabbit. Really 
fast and hard. I don't quite know what my face 
showed, but I certainly wasn't trying to hide 
anything. I now stood up all the way, putting my 
hands over my head holding his head behind mine. 
He pushed me hard up against the window, my 
breasts squeezed against the cold pane of glass 
so hard I feared it might break. 

"Don't worry about the glass, it is security 
glass - won't break for anything," he gasped. 

I felt the first signs of an upcoming climax: hot 
feeling in the stomach, legs going heavy. Then a 
ripple surging up inside me, my nipples going 
numb for a second and then super sensitive. In 
this position he was hitting my g-spot with each 
thrust adding another strong sensation to the 
orchestra of feelings. I could hear his breathing 
labouring, speeding up. 

"Of fuck, I can't hold back any more," Jason 
cried into my ear. 

I was glad the window was security glass as 
otherwise we would have ended outside in a heap 
of glass, the way he pumped his semen into me 
with his last violent thrusts. 

"Please, Jason," I whispered out of breath, "I am 
not there yet, please finish me off." 

I grabbed his hands and put them down my front 
leaning back against him. A finger quickly found 
my clit, expertly rubbing it lightly but 
consistently to make the build-up slow but steady 
with no interruptions. I could again concentrate 
my feelings. Jason’s other hand found a breast to 
fondle, rolling the hard nipple between his 
fingers. 

"Just imagine the show we are putting on," Jason 
whispered in my ear. "Put one foot up on the 
windowsill and spread your legs as much as 
possible, I want them to be able to see my 
fingers playing with you." 

Not that I had forgotten about the spectators out 
there, but the sex was good and I had been 
concentrating on Jason and our actions. 

"Do you think they are masturbating out there 
now?" I asked Jason, breathlessly. The thought 
was awesome. How many hard dicks shooting their 
load into the trees because of me? 

"Yes, they are all dreaming about being the lucky 
one in here, playing with your tits like this." 

He was squeezing my breast into a cone, the 
nipple pointing into the bushes. 

"And forcing you legs apart so they can see your 
beautiful pussy, dreaming of positioning their 
rods between those lovely large swollen lips, 
plunging into you, hoping to make you scream with 
desire . . ." 

His fingers were pulling my lips apart as he 
spoke, digging a couple of them into me almost 
lifting me into the air, while maintaining the 
steady rhythmic rubbing on my exposed clit with 
the other. 

"Tell me what you feel and later I will tell them 
so they can dream of having been in here with 
you," he instructed. 

 "I feel the build up in my stomach, a warm 
feeling. Drifting, almost an out-of-body 
experience, looking down on myself. I feel small 
ripples of contractions just inside my pussy... 
Oh yeah, stronger now." I was panting heavily 
finding it difficult to concentrate on speaking. 
"Right - go on squeezing my breast. Pinch my 
nipples... Oh yeah, just like that. I am coming 
now. Biiiiig one hitting me nooooow!!!" 

I was thrashing my head from side to side as the 
contractions hit. I loved the way Jason pinched 
my nipples, just borderline on pain. I was 
arching backwards, presenting the best view of my 
pussy, rippling with the contractions, until the 
last big one hit me and I doubled over, having to 
rest my hands on the windowsill while slowly I 
came down from my high again. 

I stood up, turned around and gave Jason a long, 
loving kiss. 

He guided me over to the sofa and we sat down 
together, me leaning up against him, still trying 
to recover and regain my breath. 

"Well, if that doesn't give me a lot of points I 
don't know what will. They will be speaking of 
this for a long time I can assure you." Jason was 
lovingly stroking my hair as he spoke. 

 "I don't know if we should have done this," I 
said, bad conscience hitting me. It really wasn't 
very fair to Poul. 

"I know, but having done it, I can only say that 
it was a fantastic experience. I admit to having 
had dreams about you, but I never knew or 
imagined that anything like this would ever 
happen. Was it just the thought of those guys out 
there that pressed your button?" 

 "Yeah, now you know my little secret. I have a 
dark side, loving to expose myself, and if I can 
do it making love at the same time, that really 
gets me going," I said wondering at the same time 
if it was a good idea to admit this to Jason. 

 I looked at the clock on the wall. 

"Shit Jason, it is almost 10. I've got to get 
dressed, I don't want the warden finding us like 
this," I said rushing up looking for my clothes. 

"I guess he was the warden out in the bushes, so 
he has probably seen all of you anyway. But I 
agree we better get dressed anyway," 

There was a knock on the door. 

"Times is up in there," we heard through the 
door. 

I grabbed my shirt, picking up the skirt as I 
heard the key in the door. 

"Shit, Jason, he is coming in now," I exclaimed 
with a small shriek. 

I managed to get the shirt on and the skirt up, 
but was still buttoning buttons of the shirt when 
the door opened. I hid behind Jason as I zipped 
up the skirt. There was no chance of putting on 
any underwear now. Not that I’d found it anyway. 
Jason was still pulling on his trousers. 

The guard just stood in the doorway looking at 
us. 

"Jason you better get dressed while I take the 
lady out. We have to have her out before the 
gates shut," the guard said to Jason, while he 
kept looking at me as if I still wasn't dressed. 
Under his stare I felt I wasn't. 

I was trying to get my shoes on when Jason bent 
down and fished out my underwear from under the 
sofa where it had landed some time during the 
commotion. 

"Bye Jenny," he said as he kissed me goodbye and 
handed me the underwear. "You better remember 
these or Poul might wonder what happened." 

Great, I thought, now the guard could be in no 
doubt that I had no underwear on as we walked 
out. 

I tried to get my jacket on as we went down the 
corridor, but with a handbag in my hand and the 
guard lightly holding my elbow, I gave up and 
just folded it over my arm. I could feel Jason's 
semen running down my legs as we rushed down the 
corridor to the entrance of the visiting area. 

Another couple of guards at the reception looked 
at me. I felt they must be able to see I had no 
underwear on, but I was out so quickly I didn't 
get a chance to check their reaction. 

At the door the guard let go of my elbow, looked 
down my front illuminated by the strong spotlight 
over the entrance. 

"I hope you will visit Jason again soon. I’ll 
look forward to seeing you again." 

It was said neutrally, but I was in no doubt what 
he was hinting at. The same as when he deposited 
me in the visiting room with Jason. "See you" 
took on a whole new meaning. 

I ran to the car, got in and locked the doors. 
Not that I thought anybody was out there, but you 
never know if any of the guys from the bushes was 
still out there waiting for me to finish off the 
evening with a live performance. I sped out of 
the parking lot, trying to get a Kleenex between 
my legs to soak up the moisture which I didn't 
want on either my skirt or the seat. 

Poul was still in his office when I got home, so 
I just called to him that I was going to have a 
bath and jump in bed. I didn't hear his grumbled 
answer; I just ran upstairs, hid my underwear in 
the washing basket and jumped into a hot bath. 

I felt dirty now that the excitement had gone. I 
didn't know if I could possibly go back to Jason 
now. I had planned on seeing him regularly, but 
now I didn't know. I felt that if I went back I 
would be expected to repeat the performance, if 
for nothing else then for his sake, and right now 
I felt bad about the whole thing. But as I rested 
in the hot tub, I also knew that if I did go back 
the excitement might get the better of me again. 

Ouch  . . .  Sex is so difficult to handle.