Like most people in their early twenties, I spent most of the working day thinking about what I was going to do after work and at the weekends. Despite my hometown being a university town, I (like every other gay guy) outgrew it, and established a great friendship group in London, with multiple places to stay, where I could indulge in the lifestyle I wanted.
My twenties were a great time of exploration. I wouldn't say I was finally discovering my self or any of that bullshit, but I would say I was becoming more honest and open about my sexual kinks and fetishes, as I established friendships with other fetish guys.
I was working in a tattoo studio full time, which was fun, but days could be quite long and boring. I passed the days by wasting time on Facebook, watching films and managing a part time Dom service.
Flicking through a Skin Deep magazine, which was only ever filled with tattooed, half nude rockabilly girls, I was surprised to find in the back a request for a gay tattooed pen pal. Curious, and thinking that writing letters would pass the time, I put pen to paper.
About two weeks later, to my surprise, I got a response from someone with a prison address. For the sake of anonymity, let's call him Mark. We exchanged a few letters where he would tell me about prison life, and I would tell him what I got up to at the weekends. Eventually, as you can imagine, we started to cover what we'd both got up to sexually – me, gallivanting around London and doing part time Dom work, him, retelling stories of what he had got up to sneaking around with guys in prison.
One letter reads:
"I moved to HMP Dovegate and this lad Paul was one of the 1st people I met, he came over and introduced himself as I was unpacking , he was explaining the ins and outs etc, I did kinda get a vibe off him - the way he kept looking down at my cock while talking at me. He did mention his big cock a few times and the next day he came round to my cell and was talking about the prison he and his big cock, so I was intrigued to see it, so I asked to have a butchers, and he covered the flap of the door, (Flap being the obstruction panel) and sat on the bed and got mine out to compare as ya do, haha. Well we were both fully erect and started to wank each other off, I then leaned over and took his already hard cock in my mouth and began to suck up and down the full length of his fat prick while he watched me struggle taking all of it in my hungry mouth. I was now fully erect but my cell being the first cell we decided to wait and use his cell later- being the end cell there was less chance of being caught by the guards"
Having a tattooed guy in prison write to me about his first-hand experiences ticked a lot of fetish boxes for me, which with hindsight could be deemed as problematic. Outside of the fetishism of incarceration and tattoos, there was an added kick in the anticipation of receiving a kinky letter and writing one back.
In a time where Facebook, email and texting were the more preferred method of communication (I think MSN was also still a thing) a letter just seemed to have more substance and value. The build-up of suspense over the weeks between sending and receiving a letter was really hot. I would never know what he was going to write or when I would receive the letter, and the wait for titillating content was, in a way, like mental chastity. I could have found thousands of written confessions, scenarios and even videos relating to prison encounters online, but for me it was the personal touches - Mark was an amateur artist - and the physical letters themselves that made the exchange all the more personal.
Reading through the letters, we shared mutual fetishes – tattoos, skinheads, a bit of leather, trackies, fucking scally lads (something Mark details in a later letter when talking about his hometown) - but there is also the shared kink of secrecy and admission to someone you've never met, which created a type intimacy and a unique alliance.
Mark's sexual adventures in prison were something that he didn't get to share with anyone else, he wasn't really out, and these encounters were sometimes one offs. Mark got off on single experiences (of which I wrote to him in great detail) and he explains in later letters how much he enjoys writing about them, reliving and validating them.
"…he reached into my trackies and started rubbing my cock, jerking me off slowly while I felt his smooth bum, we started kissing then he got down onto his knees tugging down my trackies and boxers and began sucking my cock, it felt nice watching him. I rubbed his shoulders and his short shaved head and I watched my cock go in and out of his mouth, I could see he was slowly wanking his dick while his other hand pulled back my foreskin and licked my bell end all over which tingled like mad…"
Mark would occasionally get paroled and let out on licence. He would always call, and we would chat and arrange to have a misadventure together in London, but this was almost always followed by silence. Then I'd get a letter explaining he'd fucked up and was back inside. We stayed in contact until he was finally released and went to stay with relatives.
When reading through these letters, part of me did think about the sexual exploitation of Mark and his circumstances, but for me it wasn't necessarily the fact he was in prison, it was the shared experience of taking the time to write to one another and the sexual escapism it created for both of us. The connection between likeminded perverts through letter writing brought great solace to both of us, and in the age of the internet, apps and twitter, I'm happy to have written on a dog-eared piece of paper such memories as:
"I felt his load spray down my throat and I swallowed all he could offer, I was now slowly wanking and drinking every last drop, and catching every last bit in my mouth."