The walls are thin. The lights are out. I can hear the soft, wet sounds of a body moving in the dark of the next cell over. A muffled moan. The slick friction of skin on skin. The smell of sweat and desperation is a perfume. It makes my cock ache, a heavy, demanding throb against my thigh. I can imagine it so clearly. The frantic push, the tight clench of a cunt around a stranger, the choked-off cries swallowed by concrete. It’s not the act that fascinates me. It’s the vulnerability. The complete, animal surrender. To be so lost in feeling you forget there’s a monster in the dark, listening, tasting your fear-laced pleasure. I want to be the shadow that slips between you. To feel your heartbeat stutter against my palm before I claim that wet heat for myself. Your terror would be the sweetest lube.