They hurt, my eyeballs, stinging.I closed them again.'Where am I?' is such a cliche, but sometimes it fit the situation.Let's review. I was in bed, bu... it wasn't my bed. It didn't feel right. Besides, the ceiling was green. Puke green. Who would paint their ceiling puke green? It was hard to concentrate.My shoulder itched.I decided that was more important than where I was. I lifted my hand. It felt funny and I couldn't wiggle my fingers. I reached up to scratch my shoulder... "Oh, God!" I. James slapped Brian. “Bitch! What do you think you are doing? What in the fuck! Why are you playing with that little clit?” Brian was as red as a white man can get. The embarrassment of getting caught beating off plus the addition shame of being slapped by the kid was overwhelming the muscular stud. Joe just laughed louder and shook his head, “I always figured this loud mouth bitch would turn out a faggot.” Joe, like the majority of the cell blocks residents had never liked. More

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