Filthy Mail at San Quentin

On the bus to San Quentin, Don was thinking about what went wrong. Here he was, an educated person with two engineering degrees and an MBA. He was going to prison. The judge was kind, and gave him only 16 months, but he still had to shutter his lucrative consulting business. And a felony doesn't look good on your resume. Don's felony was minor, and is not important here.

His girl friend, Margaret, promised to write to him almost every day. The real problem was Margaret. She had a consuming sex drive. She had the heart of a whore - generous, but an easy lay. Don wondered what her letters would be like. Would she tell him what she's really up to? Or send him some psycho-babble about the courses she's taking to become a better wife.

Don had never been to prison before. He wished he could have stayed at the county jail, but anything over a year sentence lands you in prison. Moreover, the food at the county jail was so bad, inmates usually tossed their dinner in the trash barrel and tried to survive on candy bars.

Prison food is usually good. It's not like eating at a 5-star restaurant, but if you tell the prison chef you need more protein, he will fix you a high protein meal. It's not rib eye steak, but you will get more chicken and fish.

After getting assigned to a bunk, with a bunk mate, it takes about ten days to get your first letter. The delay is due to censorship. All incoming mail is opened, and all outgoing mail is inspected first. The only mail not opened is correspondence between you and your attorney.

Margaret's first letter wasn't too long, but she enclosed a photo of herself in a swimsuit.

"Dear Don,

I miss you already and it's only been a week since you licked my pussy. It seems like forever. Mom got me a job at the hardware store. It's fun in a way because I'm learning some Spanish and Vietnamese. I have to wear a store uniform so my boobs aren't too obvious. I miss you sucking on my nipples. I am masturbating much more since you are not here. But I think of us together always. I am

Your love,

Margaret

P.S. Here's the photo you took of me at the beach."

Don's bunkie tried to grab the swimsuit photo. "Wow!! Is she stacked!!"

"Lay off, skinhead!!"

His bunkie's name was Ollo, or something that sounded like Ollo. Ollo was a repeat offender drug dealer. He had no teeth, and was only 30 years old.

Before Don had a chance to write something newsworthy he received a second letter from Margaret.

"Dear Don,

I guess you are getting used to being locked up, so you don't have much to say. How is your bunk mate? Is he cute? I wouldn't mind fucking both of you at the same time. I am making new friends at work. Mostly guys, of course. The girls don't speak to me because they think I'm slutty. I don't know why they're like that. Anyway, two guys (cashiers) cornered me in the break room and fingered my pussy and made me climax. Those guys were rude. But since I'm new I have to be nice to everyone.

I'll write again soon.

Love,

Margaret"

Don decided to respond.

"Dear Margaret,

Thanks for your letters. I got both of them, and miss you terribly. I don't understand why you're writing such nasty stuff in your letters. You were always a respectable woman, church going and all.

My bunkie is a white skinhead, and is always begging for food. He's always hungry, but I suppose coming down from drugs makes you hungry.

I get to go out into the yard once a day in the morning. The blacks stay together and the Hispanics hang together. Sometimes they rumble, and the CO's let them fight. It's chow time, and I want to mail this before dinner.

Love you,

Don"

Don didn't mix well with his bunkmate. Ollo was rolling cigarettes from Bible paper. He was broke, so begged Don to get him stuff from the commissary. Don was allowed to go to commissary once a month.

The noise in prison was deafening, especially in the 'general population'. All day long there was screaming and shouting from one cell to another. Or across several cells. Or they scream just to vent their anger. When inmates were allowed to go outside the shouting stopped. When they came back in, an hour later, the shouting resumed. The correction officers (CO's) ignored the noise. They were used to it. Strangely enough, at 10 PM, one of the inmates (a shot caller) yelled something and the noise stopped. You could hear a pin drop.

Margaret's third letter arrived a week later.

"Dear Don,

A lot has happened since I last wrote you. I got terminated at work because they said I was a bad influence on their employees. Mom tried to get me a new job at the pharmacy but she was arrested for shoplifting. She didn't think taking some candy bars was a big deal.

Did you ever meet Lois? I don't think so. Anyway Lois is a lesbian and wants to hang out with me. She says I'm sexy. Lois and I went clubbing last Friday. Most of the girls there were dykes. I remember you telling me not to be judgmental. Also, Pastor Richard says the same thing. So I guess you don't mind too much if Lois and I fool around? I won't need to masturbate so much. Write soon ...

Love,

Margaret"

Don realized there was not much he could do in prison. San Quentin was usually utilized for executing killers. The only amusement was watching Mexicans fighting in the yard. There were those from the north (Nortenos) and those from the south (Sorenos). They hated each other and nobody knows why. It's an ethic thing and goes back probably to the Aztecs. When they fought the prison was shut down. Everyone had to lie face down on the floor, until the alarm sounded an OK. The CO's were dressed in riot gear.

His bunk mate was almost illiterate. Don drew some circuit diagrams and Ollo thought he was like an Einstein. The highlight of the week was a visit from a Catholic nun. She was a very small woman, and told Don she was affiliated with the same order as Mother Teresa. When Don requested some reading material, she brought him a Catholic Bible and some tracts.

Margaret wrote again. Don was becoming afraid to open her letters.

"Dear Don,

I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but I had sex with Pastor Richard after our Wednesday night prayer meeting. He offered to drive me home and I let him come into my apartment. I could not have refused him. He started to feel me up and got this huge hard-on. I should have given him a blow job, but I let him fuck me instead. You are much better in bed than Richard. You lick my pussy a lot, but Richard doesn't do much foreplay. He just sticks it in, even if I'm not wet. It was a little painful. Then he wanted to lick my ass, and that was OK. Really, I like to have my ass licked.

I am usually horny after our prayer meeting. There is something about speaking in tongues that makes me horny. Maybe it's tongues that reminds me of Lois licking my pussy. (I'll tell you more about Lois in my next letter.) Richard understands this, and tries to comfort me. He has a big dick, which is fun to play with. It has lots of thick foreskin. I had three orgasms so I guess I was horny. Haha.

Pastor told me to say hello to you, although he's never met you. But he understand prison is not an easy life, especially if you're queer and look feminine.

Mom is on a work release program because the court says there's nothing to be gained by locking her up. The price of food is so high the judge feels sorry for her and will refer her to a social worker.

Write soon.

Love,

Margaret"

Two weeks went by before Margaret's next letter arrived.

"Dear Don,

Working at the pharmacy has been fun. The pharmacist is a sweet guy and if I give him a blow job he gives me birth control pills at no charge. His assistant is a female, Hispanic I think from El Salvador. You would like her because her boobs are huge and she just had a baby. She has permission to nurse her baby at work, and watching the baby suck her huge nipples turns me on. Maybe I'm becoming a lesbian, since I've been with Lois. Or maybe bisexual, because I miss you a lot. I think of all the nights we fucked until the sun came up. Do you miss that? How do you survive in prison? Do you jerk off a lot? Do other inmates try to fuck you in the ass? Give me all the gritty details. Hahaha.

Lois and I stayed in last Friday and she ate me out for an hour. She has a long tongue and does tricks with her tongue that I didn't know is humanly possible. I was going crazy. I was coming and coming. Do I sound like a lez? Lois likes to watch me play with my big clit. It really swells up more these days.

Love,

Margaret"

The next letter was short, with a photo of Lois and Margaret together. Lois was cute, a blond, with big blue eyes.

"Dear Don,

Here is Lois. She is very sexy, as you can see, and really likes licking pussy. She says I'm a submissive. I guess that's good. She is an artist at licking pussy, although sometimes I use my vibrator on her. Especially if I shove it up her butt. She has a beautiful plump ass.

Mom says to say hello. She has a new boyfriend who is kind of kinky. He wears black leather clothes, ear rings, and has lots of weird tattoos. Mom says he's not a Nazi, just strange. Mom always did like strange men. Too bad Daddy left her for another guy. You do know Daddy is gay now?

Pastor Richard has been after me, but since Lois told him to 'fuck off', he's left me alone. Lois and I went to a gay rights rally. I like lesbians. They are really cool.

Love,

Margaret"

Don, after reading this last letter, sat back and pondered the meaning of life. Not in a philosophical sense because he felt all philosophers were full of shit. He realized that what you think is real is not real, it's your imagination. Or your perception of reality as Plato would put it. If this were true, religion is basically bullshit, and what really matters in life is not being constipated. There's nothing worse than straining over a toilet seat for days, and ending up with a bad case of hemorrhoids. Your girl friend could become a lesbian, or your wife could be fucking your best friend, but that's nothing compared to not being able to take a shit.

Thinking deep thoughts: it all made sense to Don. Great men don't stop to take a shit. They are usually constipated. When John Wayne hit the beach at Iwo Jima, did he ever stop to take a shit? In the movie, Star Wars, did Luke Skywalker ever stop for a poop. Of course not. Napoleon was probably constipated too, riding high on his big horse. Why don't horses ever get constipated?

Don became calmer when he realized he was in prison for a reason. Life doesn't randomly pick you out and put you in a prison. It gave him time to study the Bible, something he's never had time to do. He was too busy dealing with clients who wanted fast results. He was more tolerant of Ollo, and they actually developed a respect for each other. When it was time for Don to be released, Ollo cried and hugged him.

Margaret's last letter arrived the day before his release.

"Dear Don,

I hope this letter reaches you before you are released. In the time you've been gone, I have changed a lot and I don't think I am the same person I used to be. Lois and I will be getting married because she loves me for who I am. Whether I am a lesbian or not makes no difference. Her love is unconditional. No strings. No expectations. She says I can go back to you, but she will still love me.

Mom is working full time at the Charity Store because she likes the customers. They are not well off, but they are real people. Mom gets an employee discount but the merchandise is so cheap she almost gets it free. She says her customers are not superficial and she doubts any one of them owns a cell phone. They have never heard of Facebook. She earns minimum wage but she has a roommate who is a recovering alcoholic. She pays half the rent.

I bought a used Camry, actually with Lois' help. We go places, like to the beach, and we actually drove down to Monterey and saw some exotic fish. I gave up going to church. I'm much happier, because church always left me depressed and hating myself. Pastor Richard got a new job, working with the homeless and he's happier too. Believe it or not, Richard is dating a transgender person and they have great sex. Richard hasn't gone into details but I believe him. I hope I see you soon.

Love,

Margaret"

On the day of his release, Don went back to his old apartment. His attorney had kept up the rent payments. After much thought, he phoned Margaret and made a date with her to meet her at Starbucks. He had never seen her so happy. She told him about Lois, and said Lois wanted to meet him. Don appreciated his freedom, something he always took for granted. Then he went back to his apartment and had a satisfying bowel movement.