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Subject: {ASSM} The Corrections Officer
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Date: Sat, 27 Mar 2010 09:10:02 -0400
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The Corrections Officer
This story is a work of erotic fiction. It is intended for
entertainment purposes only. It may contain racial slurs and sexual
acts which some readers may find offensive. This story is not intended
to be read by minors or by anyone who might be unduly influenced by
its contents, or where community standards prohibit this type of
literature. If any of these prohibitions apply to you, please find
something else to read for your entertainment.
*****************
Karl Schmidt, works as a security specialist in a juvenile corrections
facility. Here is his story about tense conditions in the facility:

We work with a bunch of animals. That's the only way to describe it.
Every day we live in constant fear that they would do bodily harm to
themselves or to one of the security guards.

One morning I was summoned to the warden's office because of a
security breach in cell block D.  A broken bottle whizzed through the
air from the upper balcony of the cell block. The bottle flew inches
from the face of a security guard on the lower level. A few inches and
it could have gashed one of his eyes. Nobody is supposed to have
bottles in this facility in the first place. My job was to figure out
who had smuggled it in, and what else they might have had smuggled in
for them. If someone could smuggle in a broken bottle, they could also
smuggle packs of cocaine or marijuana, or maybe a small knife. We had
to check it out for security reasons.

Since we didn't know which of the boys in the upper level actually
threw the bottle we had them all line up outside of their cells so
that we could inspect their cells. Maybe we could find some evidence
of contraband.

As an added precaution we made the boys strip down to their shorts so
that we could be sure they weren't concealing anything on their
bodies.
*****************
When I left the warden's office to inspect the boys' cells I wasn't
prepared for the sight that was awaiting me. Row after row of smooth-
skinned black and brown boys, bare-chested and bare legged, all lined
up. Their lean and muscular dark bodies glistened with sweat in the
humid building. The boys smelled of perspiration and unwashed
genitalia - some of the smell was no doubt the smell of cum from
masturbating before they got up in the morning.

I walked past the rows of pungent black boys, trying not to make eye
contact with them or to indicate any interest at all in their young
bodies. Nonetheless I couldn't suppress a killer boner that sprang to
life in my pants. I tried to conceal it by folding it upward toward my
belly but it still seemed to jut out like a boy scout's tent in the
summertime.

Try as I might to avoid eye-contact with the boys, I couldn't avoid a
furtive glance at their smooth young faces. Their thick lips and high
cheekbones, their almond-shaped eyes danced across their faces. Their
broad noses flared, like young bulls looking for a heifer.

I couldn't control myself. I needed some pretext for intimacy; I
needed direct physical contact.

As I passed one tough, boyish brown skinned boy I pivoted toward him,
"You," I shouted, "Hold still. Don't make a move."

The boy was startled. His eyes grew wide and his body stiffened. He
swallowed hard.

The guards beside me turned on him in alarm, responding to my
outburst. "What's wrong? What did he do?"

"I think he's hiding something," I said. "I think I saw him stuff
something in his shorts. It might be some kind of contraband. I think
maybe he stuffed it up his ass."

The boy shook his head in disbelief, helpless to declare his innocence
- not sure what to say to counter the word of an authority.

The guards drew their Billy clubs and closed in on the boy, as if it
was their habit to beat a nigger when they were in doubt.

"No, don't beat him," I said. "Stand back, I can handle this."

I moved toward the boy. His brown skinned body exuded nigger jungle
heat. The smell of his arm pits emanated masculine body funk. I
enjoyed the fear in the boy's eyes; his silent acknowledgement that I
had absolute authority over his destiny.

"Let's see what you're hiding," I said, more for dramatic effect than
to communicate to the actual boy himself. He seemed bewildered. He
seemed to wonder why I had singled him out.

If only he knew. I singled him out because of that pendulous black
cock I could see outlined in his cotton briefs. I singled him out
because of his lean, muscular brown arms that exuded boyish masculine
energy. I singled him out because of the gentle whiffs of his curly
black hair. I singled him out just for the hell of it, because he's a
black boy and I'm a horny man and there is nothing he can do to keep
the pleasures of his body hidden from me as long as he is under my
control in this facility.

"Bend over," I barked, "Grab your ankles."

The boy bent over and grabbed his ankles. His black bubble butt
protruded toward the ceiling, just like I like it. I yanked down his
boxer shorts, exposing his naked ass, his thick, long black cock and
his pendulous, hairy balls. Nice.

"I think he shoved something in his ass," I repeated, with an air of
authority.

I spread his butt cheeks, inspecting the nappy dark hairs up and down
the boy's sweaty black ass crack. I shoved my fingers in his ass and
felt around inside of the boy. My dick got hard while dug my fingers
into his ass and pumped them in a slow, deliberate fucking motion. I
finger fucked that black boy slow and long, feeling the hard-on in my
pants leaking pre-cum.

I heard the boy groan with pain as I felt inside his ass. When I
couldn't take it any longer - because I was afraid I'd shoot my cum
right then and there - I withdrew my fingers and scowled with
contempt.

"Nothing in there," I said, as if working my way methodically down a
checklist of areas that a black teenager could hide contraband on his
naked body. "Maybe it's under his arm pits. Straighten up, boy."

The boy straightened up. I ran my hands along the side of his trunk
and under his arms, feeling the tight muscles on his body. I savored
his smell. The boy's nostrils flared. He might have been on to me.
Maybe he was getting aroused too. I ran my hands under his arms and
smelled the funk of his arm pits.

"Hmmm, I can't find anything there either."

I let my hands linger, feeling the boy up; taking my time to
experience every part of his naked body. I ran my hands over
everything he was accustomed to concealing from other men. I felt down
his sides. I caressed his abs and his naval. I ran my hands over the
boy's pubes and reached under his nut sack.

"Maybe he's got something down here. Maybe he's hiding it under his
nut sack," I said with the certainty of a man who knows how to do his
job thoroughly.

I felt up the boy's balls, playing with his round solid testicles,
bouncing them in my hand. I eyed his face which, by now, was a mix of
disgust and amusement. He had a subtle smirk of someone who knew the
weaknesses of a man who is desperate for the feel of teen offender's
flesh. But the smirk was crossed with indignation, as if the thought
of being helpless to prevent this "inspection" of his body, this
brazen violation of his privacy, was an offense to his self-image.

I grabbed hold of his thick nigger cock and massaged it, feeling him
up, feeling it pulsate in my hand. At the same time I rubbed his ass
as a diversion, as if legitimizing a thorough bodily inspection. I ran
my fingers up and down the inside of his sweaty ass crack, as if
inspecting it a second time to be sure there was nothing there. I was
breathing heavily from the excitement. All the while I continued
stroking his cock, making it hard.

The boy's cock throbbed and he involuntarily leaked precum on my hand.
I kept massaging his cock until it was good and hard. Then I let it go
and stood back for everyone to see.

The boy's cock stood erect in front of his body. The boys around him
tried to stifle their laughter. The guards smirked in amusement. I
turned to them with a look of disgust on my face, "You see how nasty
these black boys are? They're always thinking about sex. Even when you
search them for contraband they can't keep their minds off of it."

"Yeah," one of the guards agreed. "It must be those jungle hormones.
We see that all the time."

My hands were now coated with nigger body sweat, underarm funk, and
ass juices. I rubbed them between the boy's firm brown thighs, wiping
my hands off on the soft hair between his legs.

"What are you gonna do?" I said in exasperation. "Whatever it is, he
probably stuffed it so far up his ass I'm never gonna reach it."

The guards shook their heads in resignation.

"We'll keep an eye on him," they assured me.

"Yeah, do that. Maybe you should bring him to my office later for a
more thorough inspection."

Now the boy looked really alarmed, but I continued down the corridor
as though I didn't have the least bit of interest in him, but the
boner in my pants made it difficult for me to walk.

I was only doing my job. It's dirty work, but somebody's gotta do it.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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