The Night Shift Agreement

Perry straightened the collar of his shirt for the third time and checked his breath against his palm. The prison parking lot smelled like hot asphalt and diesel, and the sun was throwing orange light across the razor wire topping the chain-link fences. He'd parked behind a delivery truck, exactly where Violet told him to, and now he was sitting here with a warm bottle of champagne in a paper bag and a cardboard box full of dildos rattling around on the passenger seat. His heart was doing something stupid in his chest — that fluttery, electric thing it did whenever Violet was involved, whenever she had one of her ideas. This one, though. This one was bigger than any of them.

He thought about the first time she'd brought it up. They'd been sprawled on his dorm room bed, sheets tangled around their legs, the window cracked open so cigarette smoke could escape. Violet had been tracing circles on his chest with her fingernail, her black hair spilling everywhere, her heavy breasts pressed against his side. She'd said it casually, like she was mentioning the weather.

"You know what you told me that night you were drunk?" she'd said.

Perry had groaned. "Which night? I've been drunk many nights with you."

"The night you told me you wanted to get used in a women's prison."

He'd gone quiet. He remembered saying it. He remembered the fantasy — being surrounded, overwhelmed, passed around, treated like a piece of meat by women who hadn't had a man in months or years. It was filthy and degrading and it lived in the back of his brain like a hot coal he kept touching.

"I remember," he'd said.

Violet had smiled. That smile — slow, knowing, a little dangerous. "I work at one, dummy. I could make it happen."

And now here he was. Sitting in a prison parking lot with a box of rubber cocks and cheap champagne, waiting for the text.

His phone buzzed.

**VIOLET: Loading dock. East side. Door will be propped open with a brick. Walk in like you own the place.**

He grabbed the champagne and the box, took a breath, and got out of the car.

Inside the prison, the air changed. Cool, fluorescent, smelling of concrete and industrial cleaner. Violet had told him the layout once — never thought he'd need it. He followed the corridor along the east wall, past a boiler room, until he saw the loading dock. A steel door was cracked open, a red brick wedged at the base. He pushed through.

Violet was standing there in her guard uniform, arms crossed, her cap pulled low. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her pale skin almost glowed under the dock lights. She looked at him and her mouth curled into that smile again.

"Right on time, stud," she said. She looked him up and down — all six foot four of him — and let out a low whistle. "Those bitches are going to eat you alive."

"That's the idea," Perry said, and his voice cracked just slightly.

Violet laughed. She stepped toward him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him down into a hard kiss. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, aggressive and wet, and she bit his bottom lip before pulling away. "I already prepped them. They're in the shower right now. Five of the nastiest, horniest, most desperate incarcerated cunts in this building. They haven't seen a real cock in so long they probably forgot what one looks like." She paused. "They're going to remember real fast."

Perry swallowed hard. His dick was already pressing against his jeans.

"Stay here," Violet said. "I'll go get them."

She disappeared through a heavy door, and Perry stood alone in the loading dock, setting the champagne on a metal table and the box of dildos beside it. He could hear pipes clanking somewhere deep in the building. The dock smelled like rubber and old pallets. His hands were shaking. Not from fear — from anticipation. That pure, electric hum that runs through your body when you know something intense is about to happen and there's no backing out.

Then he heard Violet's voice, echoing down the corridor, sharp and commanding and absolutely merciless.

"You five bitches out of the shower! Bring your fat asses over here and follow me!"

There were protests, splashing, the slap of wet feet on tile.

"I said move! Now! Get your orange jumpsuits on and bring your trashy asses and your fishy cunts with you. Move it, move it, MOVE."

More shuffling. The sound of zippers. Grumbling. Then footsteps — heavy, multiple, coming closer.

The door swung open and Violet walked in first, that slow strut of hers, hips rolling under her uniform. Behind her, five women filed in, all in orange jumpsuits, hair still wet, skin still glistening from the shower.

Perry's mouth went dry.

Kate was the first — six feet tall, long black hair hanging in wet ropes down her back, her jumpsuit struggling to contain what had to be triple-D tits that pushed the orange fabric out like it was fighting a losing war. She had wide hips and thick thighs and she looked at Perry like a wolf looks at a deer.

Louise came next — big, soft, easily 280 pounds, brown hair plastered to her shoulders, her jumpsuit stretched tight across her massive body. Her thighs were thick and dimpled with cellulite, and Perry could see the outline of a thick, dark bush pressing against the fabric between her legs. Her ass cheeks were wide and heavy, the orange material riding up between them.

Camille walked in like she owned the place — six foot two, long black hair, forty-F cup breasts that seemed to defy gravity, and a shelf booty that stuck out so far you could set a drink on it. She had a hairy, fishy pussy — Perry couldn't see it yet, but Violet had told him about it in explicit detail — and the way she licked her lips told him she was already wet.

Aggie bounced in next, blonde hair damp and tangled, six foot two with big E-cup tits bouncing under her jumpsuit, her big round ass swaying as she walked. She was already grinning, her eyes locked on Perry, and he could practically see the dirty thoughts scrolling behind them like a ticker tape. Violet had told him Aggie couldn't get off without filthy talk. That she needed it explicit and nasty to come. Lucky for her, so did Perry.

Last was Laurie — five foot eight, 230 pounds, brown hair, 42 double-D tits that looked heavy and real and pendulous under her jumpsuit, with a nice thick hairy muff that Perry could already smell — that warm, sharp, fishy scent that clung to her even through the jumpsuit fabric.

Violet turned to face the five inmates, hands on her hips, and her expression was pure contempt. "You nasty trashy fucking whores haven't taken any cock in forever. Am I wrong?"

"No, Officer V," Kate said, and there was a hunger in her voice that made Perry's cock jump.

"Damn right. Well, tonight you cunts get the stud of a lifetime." Violet stepped aside and gestured at Perry. "This is Perry. He's six foot four of fine, and he wants to eat every single one of your hairy, stinky, cheesy, fishy, tuna pussies. He wants to eat your shitty saggy asses. He wants to fuck your pussies and your asses. And you nasty sluts are going to take him by force. Gag him with your brown thongs and matching bras. Peg his hot ass. Call him filthy nasty names. Gangbang this amazing man."

The five women were staring at Perry now, and Perry could feel the heat of their attention like standing in front of an open furnace.

Violet kept going, her voice rising, getting meaner and more animated. "He'll put your boobies, booties, and pussies in his beautiful mouth. He'll take his fat cock in both your holes. Take his hot loads. Take his dick like the whores you are. Nasty sluts. Filthy piece of shit cunts. White trash horny cunts. Fuck this beautiful man's cock like bitches in heat. Fuck him like the prize he is. Take his massive dick like the trashy horny cunty white trash bitches you are."

She paused for breath, then pointed at a shelf against the wall. "There's baby oil. Rub it on yourselves. All over. Get shiny and greasy and ready. Spread your legs and your booty cheeks and get fucked."

For a moment, nobody moved. Then Aggie let out a laugh — raw, dirty, delighted — and unzipped her jumpsuit in one motion. She stepped out of it naked, her big E-cup tits swinging free, her blonde hair wild, her pussy a thick golden bush already glistening with moisture. She grabbed the baby oil and started pouring it over her chest, the clear liquid running down between her tits, over her soft belly, down to her hairy mound.

The others followed. Kate peeled off her jumpsuit and those massive triple-D tits fell out, heavy and round with big dark nipples, her black pubic hair thick and wild, the lips of her pussy already parted and slick, giving off a strong, fishy musk that hit Perry like a wave. Louise stripped and her body was a landscape of soft flesh — her belly hanging over her hairy cunt, her thighs wide and dimpled, her ass cheeks enormous and damaged with old hail-like pockmarks, the dark hair around her pussy and asshole matted and damp from the shower. Camille stepped out of her suit and her shelf booty was even more impressive bare, her forty-F tits hanging heavy and dark-nippled, her hairy pussy fat and fishy and already swollen. Laurie was last, her 42 double-Ds swinging low and heavy, her big soft body jiggling as she moved, her brown hairy muff thick and aromatic.

Five naked, oiled, desperate women stood in front of Perry, and he could smell all of them — that mixed, pungent, fishy, cheesy, womanly scent that was so strong it made his eyes water and his cock throb.

"Champagne," he said, holding up the bottle. "Anyone want a drink before—"

Kate was on him before he finished the sentence. She grabbed the bottle, popped it with her teeth, took a swig, and spat a mouthful onto his chest. "We don't want drinks, pretty boy. We want your fucking tongue inside us."

She pushed him down onto a stack of pallets and straddled his face, her huge hairy pussy pressing down against his mouth. The smell was overwhelming — fishy, sharp, musky, warm — and her wet lips spread across his face as she ground against him. Perry opened his mouth and started licking, pushing his tongue up into her, tasting the salty, tangy, fishy slick of her cunt. She was dripping, and her juice ran down his chin.

"Oh fuck, he's actually doing it," Kate moaned, grabbing his hair and pulling his face deeper into her. "Eat that fishy cunt, you nasty boy. Get your tongue in there."

Aggie was pulling his jeans off, yanking them down his legs with rough, impatient hands. When she got his cock out, she let out a sound that was almost a scream. "Look at this fucking thing! Holy shit, girls, look at this fat dick!"

She grabbed it with both hands, her oiled fingers sliding up and down the shaft, and Perry groaned into Kate's pussy. Aggie bent down and took the head in her mouth, sucking hard, her blonde hair falling over his thighs. She pulled off and stroked him, spit and oil making his cock shine.

"You like that, you filthy piece of shit?" she said, looking up at him with wild eyes. "You like this nasty slut mouth on your big fucking cock?"

"Fuck yes," Perry managed, his voice muffled by Kate's pussy.

"Call me a nasty cunt," Aggie demanded. "Call me a dirty fucking whore while I suck your dick."

"You're a nasty fucking cunt, Aggie. You're a dirty cock-sucking whore."

She moaned and swallowed him again, deeper this time, her throat working around the shaft.

Louise appeared beside them, her massive body jiggling, and she grabbed Perry's hand and shoved it between her thighs. "Finger my fishy cunt while you eat hers," she commanded. Perry pushed two fingers into Louise — she was incredibly wet, hot, and her pussy gripped his fingers hard. She was so thick and soft that his hand practically disappeared into her flesh. Her hairy muff was coarse against his palm, and the smell coming off her was even stronger than Kate's — a deep, pungent, tuna-heavy musk that made his head spin.

Camille wasn't waiting. She climbed onto the pallets behind Kate and started rubbing her oily shelf booty against Perry's chest, her forty-F tits dragging across his stomach. "I want my ass eaten," she announced. "I want this pretty boy's tongue in my shitty asshole. Get under me, Kate. I want his face."

Kate reluctantly lifted off, and Camille turned around, presenting that massive shelf booty to Perry. She spread her cheeks with both hands, and Perry could see her hairy asshole, dark and musky, the skin around it stained and pungent. She lowered herself onto his face.

"Lick it," she said. "Lick my hairy fucking asshole, pretty boy. Get your tongue in there."

Perry grabbed her oily cheeks and pulled them apart wider, then ran his tongue from the bottom of her pussy — that fishy, hairy, dripping cunt — all the way up to her asshole. The taste was intense, salty and sharp and earthy, and he circled her hole with his tongue before pushing inside. Camille let out a deep, guttural moan and sat down harder on his face.

Meanwhile, Aggie had climbed onto Perry's cock. She straddled him, guided the head to her oily, hairy entrance, and sank down. She was incredibly tight despite how wet she was, and her pussy clamped around him like a fist. She started riding him hard, slamming down, her big E-cup tits bouncing wildly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you nasty piece of shit, your cock is so fucking big," Aggie screamed. "Call me a white trash cunt while I ride you."

"You're a white trash cunt, Aggie. You're a filthy horny bitch."

"Oh god yes, I'm a filthy horny bitch, I'm a nasty white trash cunt, fuck me with that big dick—"

Laurie appeared with a brown thong — hers, apparently, wadded up in her hand — and shoved it into Perry's mouth. "Bite on that, pretty boy. You're gonna need something to chew on."

The thong tasted like pussy and sweat and ass, and Perry groaned around it as Aggie bounced on his cock and Camille rode his face. Kate and Louise were on either side of him now, rubbing their oily tits against his body, their fishy cunts grinding against his sides, their hands roaming over his chest and stomach.

Violet stood by the door, watching, her hand between her own legs, rubbing herself through her uniform pants. She was enjoying this — the spectacle, the rawness, the complete degradation of every person in the room. This was her show, and she was directing it.

"Switch!" Violet called out. "Aggie, get off. Kate, ride his cock. Camille, sit on his face the other way so he can eat your pussy. Louise, get your asshole on his fingers. Laurie, sit on his chest and oil those big fucking tits."

They rearranged like a choreographed dance — Kate impaled herself on Perry's cock with a satisfied grunt, her triple-D tits swinging in his face. Camille turned around and pressed her hairy, fishy pussy to his mouth again. Louise positioned her massive ass near his hand and he pushed three fingers into her, two in her cunt and one in her asshole, the oily flesh yielding around his knuckles. Laurie straddled his chest and poured oil over her 42 double-Ds, rubbing them together, pinching her own nipples.

"You nasty fucking whores," Perry tried to say through the thong gag, and it came out as muffled grunting that made all five women laugh.

Kate was riding him like she was trying to break his cock off, slamming down with her full weight, her big ass clapping against his thighs. "Give me that load, pretty boy. Shoot your hot cum in my fishy cunt. I want it dripping out of me."

Aggie was beside herself. She needed more dirty talk — she was rubbing her clit furiously, watching Kate ride Perry, and she leaned in close to Perry's ear. "Tell me what a disgusting tuna-pussy licking piece of shit I am. Tell me I'm a prison cunt who deserves to be fucked like an animal."

Perry pulled the thong out of his mouth. "You're a disgusting tuna-pussy licking piece of shit, Aggie. You're a prison cunt who deserves to be fucked like an animal. You're a nasty white trash bitch and when I'm done with these whores I'm going to come in every one of your holes."

Aggie came. Her whole body seized, her thighs clamped together, and she let out a scream that echoed off the loading dock walls. Her pussy squirted, a hot stream hitting Perry's hip and running down onto the pallets.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK," she chanted, her body shaking.

That set off a chain reaction. Kate slammed down one more time and came on Perry's cock, her pussy gripping him so hard he couldn't move, her fishy juice flooding his lap. Camille ground against his face and came with a deep groan, her hairy pussy pulsing against his mouth, her juice running down his neck. Louise clamped around his fingers and shuddered, her massive body rippling. Laurie came just from rubbing her oily tits against his chest, her whole body trembling.

Perry felt his own orgasm building — that tight, electric pressure at the base of his cock, rising, unstoppable. He grabbed Kate's wide hips and thrust up into her, hard, deep, and came. His cock pulsed inside her, shooting thick ropes of cum deep into her hairy cunt. He groaned into Camille's pussy, his whole body arching, and Kate moaned as she felt him fill her.

"Fuck yes, give me that load, give me every fucking drop," Kate said, grinding down on him.

When he finally stopped pulsing, Kate lifted off him and his cum ran out of her, thick and white, dripping down her thick thighs and into her hairy bush. She stood there, legs spread, letting it drip, looking down at him with satisfaction.

Perry lay on the pallets, breathing hard, his face slick with pussy juice, his cock softening, his body covered in oil and sweat and the combined scent of five women's bodies. His head was spinning. His fantasy had come true and it was even more intense than he'd imagined.

But Violet wasn't done.

"Alright, you nasty trashy bitches," she said, walking into the group. "We're not finished yet. Aggie — on your hands and knees. I've got something for you."

She reached into a cabinet by the dock and pulled out an enema kit — the kind they used in the prison medical wing. She filled the bag with warm water and a little soap, hung it from a hook on the wall, and inserted the nozzle into Aggie's asshole.

"Hold it," Violet commanded. "You hold every drop until I tell you to let go."

Aggie whimpered as the water filled her. Her belly started to swell slightly, and her face flushed red. Sweat broke out on her forehead, her blonde hair sticking to her skin. She was cramping — Perry could see her thighs shaking, her abs clenching, her whole body trembling with the effort of holding it in.

"Hold it," Violet repeated. "Hold it, you nasty cunt."

"I can't — I can't hold it much longer," Aggie gasped.

"Louise, get under her," Violet said. "Face up."

Louise, that 280-pound mountain of soft flesh, lay down on the concrete floor and positioned her face under Aggie's ass. Her own body was still slick with oil and pussy juice, her hairy cunt gaping, her damaged ass cheeks spread wide on the cold floor.

"Okay Aggie," Violet said. "Let it go. All over Louise. Every fucking drop."

Aggie released. The water exploded from her ass — warm, brown, soapy — and splashed all over Louise's face, her tits, her belly. Louise gasped and then laughed, opening her mouth, letting the dirty water run over her skin. It pooled on the floor around her, soaking her brown hair, running into every fold and crevice of her massive body.

"Oh you nasty fucking bitch," Louise said, still laughing, wiping her face with her hand. "You filthy fucking whore."

Aggie was shaking with relief, her belly deflating, the last of the water dripping out of her onto Louise's chest.

Then Camille stepped forward. She stood over Perry — who was still lying on the pallets, still dazed, still covered in five women's juices — and she spread her hairy pussy lips with her fingers.

"My turn," she said.

She started pissing. A hot, strong, golden stream hit Perry in the chest and ran down his stomach, over his cock, pooling on the pallets beneath him. He flinched, then relaxed into it, the warmth spreading over his skin, the sharp ammonia smell mixing with the fishy, musky, oily scent that already covered every inch of him. Camille moved her hips, directing the stream up to his neck, his chin, his face. Perry closed his eyes and opened his mouth and tasted it — salty, bitter, warm.

"Drink it, pretty boy," Camille said. "Drink my piss like the nasty fucking whore you are."

Violet watched the whole scene with her arms crossed, that slow smile on her face. Then she walked over, unbuttoned her uniform pants, and pushed them down. She wasn't wearing underwear. Her pale skin was a stark contrast to the oiled, flushed bodies of the inmates, and her own pussy was covered in a thick patch of black hair. She turned around, bent over, and spread her ass cheeks.

"Perry," she said. "Eat my hairy ass. Right now. While Camille pisses on you."

Perry, still lying down, tilted his head back as Violet lowered herself onto his face. Her asshole was hairy, tight, musky — different from the inmates, cleaner but still sharp, still earthy. He pushed his tongue inside and Violet let out a soft moan, the first genuine sound of pleasure she'd made all night.

Camielle's piss was still flowing, hitting his stomach, running down to his cock, mixing with the oil and cum and pussy juice. Perry tongued Violet's ass deeply, his hands gripping her pale cheeks, and Violet ground against his face.

"Good boy," she murmured. "That's a good fucking boy."

When it was all over — the piss, the enema water, the cum, the oil, the sweat — the loading dock looked like a crime scene. Six naked people lay sprawled across pallets and concrete, breathing hard, slick with every bodily fluid imaginable. The air was thick with the smell of sex and piss and fish and sweat.

Violet was the first to stand. She pulled up her pants, straightened her cap, and looked down at Perry — who was lying in a puddle of everything, his hair matted, his body glistening, his cock finally soft, a stupid grin on his face.

"Same time next month?" she asked.

Perry looked up at her. Five naked inmates were still draped over and around him, their heavy tits resting on his legs and chest, their fishy cunts still warm against his skin.

"Make it twice a month," he said.