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Of course there is sex going on in prison. Even before female staff made their appearance, testosterone existed.

And obviously, most sexual activity is solitary and pornography-related. The thirst for sexual relief can be constant, eyes searching out the smallest glimpse of female skin to add to fevered imaginings.

It seems to be central to our identity as men, as sexual beings, that we find expressions and interests for our urges. DVD's, nudity on the TV, magazines, letters, photographs, are all harboured and savoured.

I have even heard a new girly-magazine being described in terms of being a new girlfriend! Each new page revealing something new, each new letter of 'confession' adding to the sense that sexuality is not a wholly imagined activity. When a new, illicit, porn DVD finds its way onto the landings then there is a subtle ripple of consequence, as increasing numbers search it out.

Gay encounters are varied. Many who have sporadically indulged would deny any homosexuality, the essence of their encounters being to share another’s' body - the gender becomes irrelevant in the quest for sexual communion.

Myth has it that Lifers are all sliding in and out of each other’s beds, that necessity is the mother of homosexuality. In my experience, this is not true. That said, when an openly gay man left here, we found out a rough estimate of men who had approached him during his stay. I was initially surprised but, on reflection, the numbers suggested that around 10% of men here may have had some homosexual experiences. That probably equates well with the outside world.

But, by and large, we get by with solitary porn. It used to be that visits offered furtive opportunities. The tables and chairs were just right for under the table manual manoeuvrings and, as long as nothing was too blatant or visible to kids, a blind eye was turned. One woman visitor I had spent two hours every weekend being 'entertained' by me in this way. Despite our relationship lasting a decade, this was a one-way activity and one I thoroughly enjoyed.

The new Puritanism and its concomitant labelling of prisoner’s sexuality as deviant has seen a near total cessation of such encounters on visits. Whilst this may please the prison service, the effects it can have on relationships can only be imagined.

The influx of female staff, both as screws and as civilians such as teachers, obviously increases the opportunity for encounters. These are rare, though, and my relationships with two consecutive staff gives me a near legendary status in this regard! Such is my seductive reputation that I am no longer allowed to work in close personal proximity to women. Honestly, I don't go looking for these sorts of relationships, it takes two to tango.

Such relationships are fraught with danger. A playful encounter outside that may, or may not, lead somewhere is the norm. In prison, if you make a play for a woman and you have misjudged their receptiveness, then you are sunk. You will be regarded as being a security risk, a danger to women, and at the very least you will find yourself in a new prison with many additions to your security file.

Relationships with female screws are viewed by the system as a betrayal on the part of staff, an abrogation of the Us and Them they love so dearly. They can be seen as being duped, weak and vulnerable to prisoners' sweet talk. Because the prison system can never accept that it's just a matter of not being able to choose who you fall in love with; they view such relationships as 'conditioning' or 'grooming' on the part of the prisoner, part of a diabolical plan to undermine security. Love and lust are never seen as motivators.

Being caught in homosexual activity is a legal minefield. Whilst we can be issued condoms, our cells are classed as a 'public place' and so sexual activity there is illegal. The most common response, though, is to face social mockery until the next interesting thing happens to fill in the conversational spaces.

For nearly all prisoners, though, the only sexual expression they share with other people is through letters and phone calls.

Pornographer in Chief

All prisons have a smattering of prisoners who are the porn-merchants. These are the men who collect porn, swap it and lend it. They are a social and economic nexus.

Porn is more than merely an item in prison, it is a commodity in its own right. Porn is swapped and traded, it is a secondary medium of exchange both for other goods and for the staple of prison economics, "favours" to be called upon in future times.

For most of my sentence, I was one of these pornographers. Books and magazines, and later DVD's, gravitated towards me. Some I bought or swapped, some were donated or found. The role of pornographer is a socially useful one that provides a service to the general community. Honest. It's not just that I'm a degenerate.

This stash of filth was eclectic, from Fiesta, Escort and Mayfair through to Club, Whitehouse, Colour Climax and Private. This ranged from the benign girly-mag available in the newsagents through to foreign hardcore.

Staff knew it existed and used to watch me scuttle around the wing, bundles of mags being delivered and collected. On cell searches, or periods of boredom, they would park themselves in my cell to read my merchandise. It is vaguely disturbing to return from work to find a screw sitting in your cell, rifling through your porn for the newest additions.

Being a pornographer gave insight into the psychology of other men. In order to ask for a particular magazine or book, they had to reveal their sexual preferences. This ranged from spanking to schoolgirls, Black to White, bondage to gerontology. The whole of human life resides in our sexuality and I find its span and complexity fascinating. And it reinforces my broad belief - men really are dogs!

However, those days are long gone. The shift in the official view of prisoners and their sexuality makes it dangerous to hold any quantity of pornography. Gone is my collection of Victorian erotic novels, my stash of continental filth has long been dispersed. For a while, I did move into DVD's as they are easier to hide, but such is the wrath of the institution on discovery that I decided it just wasn't worth the effort.

The danger comes from the Psychology Department. If one is busted with a stash of porn the inevitable question arises, are you obsessed with porn? It then follows your sexuality is malign and therefore dangerous. The accusations inevitably include having a poor attitude to women and relationships, of objectification and unreasonable expectations. It returns to the familiar ground, everything prisoners do is viewed through the lense of criminogenic needs, and never as just plain human.

Prison Puritanism

The values and mores of the wider society are broadly reflected on prison landings. Despite the walls and fences, the boundary that separates us from you is a porous one. Staff, new prisoners, our visitors, TV's, mail... all of these allow cultural shifts to leak into our lives here. We may be a little behind at times, but not to any great extent.

Then there are times when a chasm emerges, a disjuncture between the prison culture and the wider society. It is even possible for a cultural current to be reversed in prison, as a matter of deliberate policy.

Matters sexual are one such area. Until a change in the law early in this century, genuine hard core pornography was not widely available in society. Of course it was there, it could be obtained, but not from the newsagents or video store. The official censors deployed the "Mull of Kintyre" test to separate the acceptable from the forbidden. If a picture of a penis had a greater elevation than the Mull of Kintyre on the map, then it became an official erection - and erections were the symbol that delineated civilisation from decadence. This may appear decidedly illiberal to non-British readers and I'll be damned if I'm going to defend it.

Whilst hardcore porn was forbidden outside, on the prison landings it was perfectly acceptable. Not officially, you understand, but as part of the dialectic of control that gravitates to mutual satisfaction. Long termers had an official blind eye turned to their hardcore magazines and some fairly strong pin-ups were plastered on cell walls.

In a complete reversal of fortunes, we are now forbidden most sexual materials at a time when the outside society is now legally permitted to purchase a fairly full range of graphically portrayed deviancy.

Why this shift? What led to this official repression of our sexuality, just at the moment when society has become far more sexualized?

A small part has been played by the introduction of female staff into male prisons. Obviously, few women would appreciate entering a cell whose walls look like a gynaecological slideshow. Fair enough, we are no longer allowed to display pictures that so much as show a nipple. Or "primary or secondary sexual organs" as an official note puts it. The prison service is lousy at talking dirty...

Let us deal head-on with one concern, largely unspoken but nonetheless powerful. Male prisoners don't assault female staff. In all my years, I can only recall one allegation of a female staff member being raped and that had all the hallmarks of a panicked allegation. If an affair is being conducted between a prisoner and a female member of staff, if they are caught in flagrante then the con is wide open to an allegation of assault.

This is overwhelmingly a non-issue. The spectre of prisoners being hyped-up by hardcore porn attempting to vent their frustrations on female staff is a myth of gargantuan proportions. And, unlike in American prisons, we tend not to rape each other either.

So why the obsession with preventing us from accessing pornography? Why the official denial of our sexuality and any expressions of it?

Sexual Meanderings

I love sex and sexuality. Everything about it captivates me, body and mind, on every level.

Sexuality is, in my perception, the core of our being. It is the repository of our deepest desires and greatest fears. It is both our strongest and weakest point, the fulcrum around which we may be elevated to our greatest fulfilment or lowered to our deepest depths.

The journey of exploration that is sharing sexuality is one fraught with risk. It is a slow building of trust, a reaching out, exposing ever increasing amounts of oneself and hoping to receive a welcome rather than a rejection.

I have always found that the sharing of bodies is the least part of sex. For me, there has also to be a sharing of thoughts and feelings - and these are much harder to reveal and are more potent for that.

Perhaps this is a function of the life I have lived, which has sex being more verbal and emotional than physical. I write erotica with legendary effects, which isn't much to show for my life but at least is something. I can talk dirty to Olympic standards.

I have had three very significant relationships during my imprisonment, the longest lasting ten years. These have been life enhancing encounters, supportive, exploratory and fulfilling in their way. As well as boxes of highly charged letters, these have the legacy of helping me to become who I am today.

Even in this seemingly barren environment, then, there is the potential for sexuality to be explored and developed. Through visits, tapes, and phone calls there is a great deal of sharing that can happen and its outcome can be wonderful.

I'm lousy at flirting, though. Given the dangers involved in becoming entangled with female staff, or misreading a signal and being hammered for making a pass, I unconsciously developed a filter that screens out the signs of flirting. I just don't notice it, even if everyone around me can see what is happening. The effects of imprisonment are strange, sometimes.

4. Gay Liberation?

In a fit of liberalism, the waiting room in Healthcare is now adorned with a box full of condoms - "help yourselves".

Interestingly, whilst forking out money to facilitate gay sex, the prison spends an absolute fortune in ruthlessly preventing straight men from doing more than holding hands with our partners.

I wonder if the ladies over at the prisonersfamiliesvoices blog have a view on this...?

3. Why Not?

Why is it are women prisoners not permitted to have sex-toys?

2. Sexual Development

Prison managers are like Victorian spinsters, equally fascinated by sexuality but wanting nothing to do with it. This explains why, having had me in their clutches since I was 14 years old, they have not said a single word to me about me sexual development. Not. One. Word.

Strange, no? For all they know, I still believe that children come from under bushes or down the chimney via stork-delivery. Or I could believe that being whipped whilst lying in a vat of jelly and wearing a gimp mask is normal on a first date.

Isn't it good to know that they take their responsibilities so seriously?

1. Stereotypes and Myths

Male prisons are sexually sterile vistas, barren save for the unfocused testosterone washing down the landings. The popular imagination fills in the blanks in their knowledge with extrapolation and myth. This isn't a criticism you understand; male prisoners do precisely the same in our imaginings of women's prisons. In our mind's eye they are one long lesbian adventure and we refuse to listen to anything that disabuses us. It is a persistent myth (I hope) that the mop-handles in their prisons are specially made, rectangular.

Showering is not a fraught experience, with large shaven headed men giving the younger contingent the eye. We don't leap on each other for want of a woman to rest upon. Honest. In all my years, I have only once been in a prison where a gay rape took place. I thank God I'm not in America.

Woman staff are not a source of perpetual lechery. Well, so many of them pose a serious visual challenge to even the most desperate of men. The prettier ones are a source of covert interest, are cautiously watched as they walk the landings and wove into a thousand fantasies. But no more. Male prisoners would, as a general proposition, protect female staff. They are more at risk from their colleagues in the Staff Mess.

We are not driven insane, reduced to acting like monkeys masturbating in a zoo, by the sight of a pert ankle or graceful neck. Whilst we appreciate beauty, we are not mindlessly captured by it. Despite this, female civilian staff are lectured on 'appropriate dress' standards. Miniskirts in prison are exceptionally rare, but always appreciated! Especially on women.

Contrary to popular perception, we are not drooling, sex starved animals, desperate to catch a glimpse of the female form or the scent of perfume left in a woman’s wake.

We deal with our sexuality in more subtle, and more base, ways that may be appreciated whilst enmeshed in a structure that characterises our sexuality in a malign way.

This week’s posts, starting below, are hoped to give a broad overview of this hide landscape. Sexuality is a powerful inherent part of each person’s individuality and it pervades our social and economic lives.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I may be one of the first prisoners to write on this subject. Even academics ignore it. I hope I don't reveal too much!