This is the story of how Barbara Appleby fell in love with, from the perspective of her most devoted fan, the wrong person. The whole thing started with Neil Gardner, who at the beginning of the story is sitting at his desk writing with a pencil in his right hand, and in a way that’s less subtle than he thinks it is, massaging his semi-hard cock with his left hand by digging his knuckle into the crotch of his shorts and sort of rocking it back and forth. He describes in as much detail as his patience allows the proportion and position of Barbara’s body as she worships his cock (in its fully hard state) in a fictitious tryst of his own design.
Neil can basically survive anything as long as he is allowed to do this. He is shifting compulsively in his chair now which means the session is almost done. If the session goes on too long, he knows the content isn’t working, and since he is down to the last inch of pencil, the knobby state that only grade schoolers and people truly too destitute to get another pencil persist with, his wrist tires quickly anyway. Achieving something like a stopping point, he sets the pencil down and carries the paper with him up to the top bunk (he negotiated to get top bunk for this purpose by making a deal with his cellmates, explained later) and, with his right hand on his cock now, he enjoys a few moments during which he is not trapped in the party’s prison.
This, what he’s reading now, is the in-progress episode 18. It features a little more plot than the last installment, something he realized was missing in episode 12 and started sprinkling in as he gained confidence in his ability to write characters. Each episode picks up immediately after the last (excepting some flashbacks), and the whole series amounts to a single (so far) nine hour session of sex. Neil never concerned himself with realism. In real life it would be a logistical nightmare, maybe anatomically infeasible. Neil was a demanding choreographer, and it would require at least that both actors take a lot of extended release amphetamine salts, that Neil take an off-label amount of some erection pill, about a gallon of oil-based lubricant, and poppers certainly wouldn’t hurt. In contrast Neil was the God of his world, and by divine fiat the laws of physics in this world contorted themselves into whatever was required of them to make the sex work. Knowingly or not, he had even changed some important aspects of Barbara’s anatomy. Barbara would shock a gynecologist. But that was all world-building work, and he has mostly set that aside to focus on developing Barbara as a human. What does she want? What does she feel?
He would get a new pencil soon. The party banned pencils and paper for inmates, but he got new ones delivered every week by a guard, guard number two, Chris Wang.
While Neil is hard at work in the top bunk bed, Chris stands in front of the copier. He waits for it to eject 37 warm copies — photocopies, so each one preserves Neil’s handwriting and the lines of the wide ruled paper he drafted on, because fuck it — of episode 17. It was his idea to start distribution. Every first Thursday of the month, he covertly delivers the new issue to all paying subscribers. Their audience includes 35 inmates, and 2 other guards. In addition to seeding the business, he contributed the name, and felt a sense of pride every time he attached the title page, which he had sketched out himself, reading in letters shaped like lightning bolts “Barbara’s Xcapades”.
Chris first met Neil with Neil yelling from his cell, begging for a pencil and paper. “Please, fuck, I just need some graphite and a slice of dead tree. I’ll trade anything,” he had said manically, unable to keep his eyes on one thing and mindlessly kicking one of the cell bars over and over. “I’ve seen you walk by here with those planet sized pupils. I know you like some salts. I got some salts. You want some salts? Graphite. Tree.”
How Neil found it easier to acquire salts than paper always brought Chris’s palm to his forehead when he thought about it. It may have been a factor when Chris sketched out the revenue allocations. He proposed it carefully, ready to wince when Neil exploded in indignation, but surprisingly Neil didn’t mind only receiving 10% of the revenue. He really did just want something to write with. This was not a position Chris respected, but one that, considering what he stood to gain, he had no interest in correcting.
The print is done and he takes one copy at a time, staples a copy of the title page to it, and puts it in the folder he carries around to distribute from. Some inmates are banging loudly on the cell bars down the hall, but Chris is unfazed, because he knows it is probably Roy, since Roy does it every day, sometimes multiple times, and always about the same non-urgent thing. He finishes preparing the last ready-to-distribute copy of episode 17, pours a cup of coffee, and sits down to relax with the incessant banging providing ambiance.
Roy Atkinson arrived in the party prison hyped up and, in a psychomotor sense, very agitated. This is because he managed to rail his last bit of white girl, something hidden in a secret sewn pocket of his pants, off his finger during processing. This impressed his cellmates, but those 10 minutes were the best minutes of his next four months, and they grew tired of him asking for the time, insisting on more and more digits of it (if you could provide him the timestamp in nanoseconds, he would have thanked you profusely during this phase, even though the digits would of course be useless by the time you finished saying them and the vibrations in the air reached his ear), so that when he complained about how long it had been since he last had a hit of white girl, he could be precise about the duration of his suffering.
His experience improved dramatically when he got a hold of the first episode of Barbara’s Xcapades. Barbara is a white girl and Roy, as many people in his state of suffering are, is a sucker for that kind of superstitious symbolism. She was the hit that he needed. It wasn’t really a fix of course, but it made him forget the clock, and God was that worth a lot to him. While the guard made copies, he sat in his bed rereading episode 16. He reread it every day, or maybe every hour. Probably every hour. He chose a favorite sentence from every episode, a sentence designated as the climax, which he could read in a tight loop for his own climax.
The sentence of choice from episode 16 was “Barbara could hardly make sense of it all, the thrill of the girthy cock in her pussy, the wet tongue in her ear, and the hand making its way around behind her, into the place that she did not want, but craved in spite of herself, to share with someone else.” Roy appreciated Neil’s taste in sentences like these, where he called it “the wet tongue” without attribution, because Roy concerned himself with Barbara alone, and for all he cared the tongue could be a disembodied force of nature, or an attachment to a machine.
But there was another sentence that kept coming to mind when Roy tried to enjoy the episode. It read “Barbara had never felt so safe, so comfortable with someone else, as she did now with Neil.” Where in earlier episodes Neil had done it proper, sticking to just the choreography and describing Barbara’s sensations, he had lately given her a little too much, well, specificity in her feelings. Now Barbara held all these opinions about Neil, and Roy was not Neil. It felt a lot like Roy was trying to do this thing with Barbara, but Neil was in the room and Barbara was paying attention to Neil now, and it totally killed the mood.
In some context he no longer remembered, Roy’s mother had said the phrase “three’s company.” He felt there was a lot of wisdom in it, and kept remarking to his cellmates “doesn’t Neil know anything? Doesn’t he know that three’s company?” The message needed to get to Neil too, so he reminded Chris every day to tell Neil that three’s company.
Roy bangs on the cell bars to get the guard’s attention so he can deliver to Neil by proxy what he considers important writing advice. Neil clearly ignored his feedback on the past few episodes, and his frustration is right now reaching a kind of boiling point. He is kicking and yelling and banging with such fervor that his cellmates are looking at each other with discomfort and taking slow steps closer to the back wall.
Chris finishes his coffee and puts on the stoic mood he needs in order to suffer talking to Roy. He is going to check on the hall but not because he thinks talking to Roy is worthwhile. It isn’t. He just maintains the habit of checking on these noises because eventually some actual shit is going to go down and he needs this job. When he opens the door he hears that Roy is louder than usual and in an act of caution approaches the cell from the opposite side of the hall, out of Roy’s reach.
“You tell Neil to write me into the next episode.”
“Write you in like as a character?”
“He has to write me in or I’ll kill you. I will kill you. No. Or I will kill him. He has to write me in or I will kill him. Yeah. Yeah. I’m serious I will kill him.”
Chris says the next episode is already written, and Roy says okay well the next one then. Chris senses a little desperation in the way Roy quickly became reasonable in the face of a logistic objection. He tells Roy he’ll think about delivering the feedback and walks back into the break room, laughing to himself at Roy, who he sees as a little endearing in his unrelenting dissatisfaction.
In the next paper and pencil delivery, Neil hears from Chris about Roy’s threat. Over time Neil, though he has never met Roy in person, has constructed a reader profile for him from all of his feedback. Neil long suspected that Roy was the kind of man who, when browsing porn, hung out exclusively in the lesbian section. The threat suggests to him that it is more than a matter of taste, that there is little bit of shame and indignation involved for Roy in the concept of a cock which is not his own being near the woman he is thinking about. Those feelings are ripe for erotic work. When combined with helpless pleasure, that’s basically all Barbara ever feels in the whole series.
He has written people into episodes before. Each of his cellmates got a flashback episode with Barbara. (That was the deal he made with them for the top bunk.) But with his cellmates, he could talk with them about what they wanted, how they thought of themselves. Roy wasn’t giving him much to work with. All Neil knows about Roy is this impotent and angry caricature, and he isn’t strongly motivated to write Roy in, but an idea occurs to him, a way to achieve the character development he’s been working on with Barbara and use Roy in a way that follows from his personality.
Two months later, Roy has read episode 18. It is a flashback to how Neil and Barbara initially made off together, and Roy features prominently. Actually, Roy gets to be Barbara’s husband. There is a catch, at least Roy would call it that (Neil sincerely thought he was giving Roy what he wanted, whether Roy knew about this want or not). He spends all of his time in-story sitting in this chair, wearing a shirt but no pants or underwear. Barbara, his wife, completely naked, is confessing her love to Neil, but it’s hard to make out the exact words because her mouth is full of Neil’s cock. Neil at this time, fully clothed excepting the lowered zipper, is giving Roy a distracted and dry handjob, throwing him a bone out of the kindness of his heart, which makes real Roy absolutely furious but fictitious Roy is just earnestly so grateful to be included that he’s writhing in self-loathing pleasure. Real Roy is screaming at his max volume for Chris to come out of the coffee room and answer for Neil’s crimes, something all the other paying subscribers in the hall are having a hearty can’t-breath helplessly-curling-into-the-fetal-position giggle at.
“What do you want?” Chris asks.
“I’ll kill him! Tell him I’ll fucking kill him.”
“You want a refund?”
“Who does that self-absorbed cuck think he is? I’ll come over there and drown him in the fucking cell toilet. Tell him I’ll drown him in the fucking cell toilet.”
“If you give me the episode I’ll refund you.”
“Tell him I’ll shit in it first. I’ll shit in his cell toilet then drown him in it. And I’ll make sure his mouth is open when it goes in the water. He won’t get off easy with that drowning-through-the-nose shit.”
This goes on for a while. Finally Roy does return the episode and collects a refund from Chris. But he purchases it again at resale markup from another inmate a few days later.
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Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/j3gx3v/barbara_prison_sex_comedy_fmm_cuckhold_oc