DISCLAIMER: If sexual acts between consenting adult males are not legal or interesting for you to read, then please move on, this story is not for you -- and shame on you for getting this far. The characters mentioned below are not real; they are a product of my imagination. The circumstances described in this story are similarly fictional and to my knowledge have no basis in reality. If you like what you read, take the time and let me know.
INSIDE OUT
You've probably heard this before, its practically cliche. I swear I didn't do it. The difference is, I mean it. Of course jail is filled with men who tell the same story to anyone that will listen. So far no one does. I have never been here before and the thought of staying here overnight scares me more than just a little. I can't even imagine the possibility that it could be longer - not yet.
My name is Marc Rivard. I'm nineteen years old and I'm sitting in a cell at a police station somewhere in Toronto. A few hours ago I was at a rave with some friends of mine when a fight broke out involving people I didn't know. The crowd just gathered round in a circle and cheered as fists colliding with flesh and the melee intensified. The music played on and the hypnotic pulse of a strobe light made the action seem surreal. I saw angry people and the flash of something silver -- then red. It was amazing how the sight of blood transcended the moment, focusing it into reality. Someone had been stabbed right in front of us. Except by then it wasn't us anymore, it was just me. I remember looking for my friends amongst the unfamiliar faces but they were not around.
I turned back towards the brawl and overheard three extra beats out of sync with the rhythm of the song and suddenly people were running. I hadn't realized what had happened until the person in front of me shouted, "GUN!" and then pushed me aside. My balance lost, I fell to the ground where several people trampled me on their way towards safety. Each time I made it to my knees I was knocked down again by the steady stream of rats leaving the sinking ship. The floor was slick with liquid -- and then I saw it.
It almost looked like a toy until I picked it up. It was much heavier than I would have thought. It was jet black and still warm. Until that moment I had never held a real gun in my hands. I've reviewed that moment a thousand times in my mind and I still don't have a clear-cut answer for why I picked it up. The best explanation was that I was terrified. Here I was being crushed beneath the footsteps of others running away from the threat of being shot, when suddenly right in front of me is the source of their fear and mine. I figured at least in my hands I would be safe and so would they. After all, I knew I would never shoot anyone.
Apparently, no one else knew me that well. When I stood up with the gun in my hands there was another cry from those around me, words blending in to each other unintelligible. Suddenly, the swarm that was moving towards me was going the other way. I heard the word "run" as clear as day and it seemed like good advice. At the time I couldn't fathom it, I just put my feet in motion, straight out the exit doors and down the street as fast as my legs could carry me.
I knew where my friends had parked and under normal circumstances I could have found the car without any problems. In the darkness and with adrenaline coursing through my veins, I must have missed the side street. I didn't even slow down to check my bearings until I saw him. At first I was relieved thinking order would be returned now that the police had arrived. I stopped running and held out my arms in a gesture of gratitude. It was at that moment when clarity returned and I realized I had a gun in my hand, pointed in same general direction as two uniformed officers. Coincidentally, they too had guns in their hand but at that moment I was confident their aim was more purposeful than mine.
"POLICE! DON'T MOVE! DROP THE GUN! DO IT NOW!"
My mother used to complain that I was never capable of following instructions or doing more than one task at a time. I'm not sure if she would have been proud or appalled to see her son rise above that criticism as I simultaneously let go of the pistol and most of the contents of my bladder. I didn't have time to be rewarded for the first act or embarrassed for the second as I was quickly tackled to the ground and handcuffed.
Next I was hauled up off the ground and draped over the back of the police car, my head matted against the trunk lid. I felt cold all over, my heart beating like a tympani and my teeth were chattering. There were hands everywhere, holding my hair, my arms and groping me all over, and then came the questions.
"What's your name?"
"Got anything sharp in your pockets?"
"Are you on something? Any narcotics?"
"Anymore weapons?"
"Ah jeez! Did you piss your pants?"
"No" I answered meekly. When I heard my voice it sounded far away and unconvincing.
"The bastard wet his pants he must be high or plenty scared. Get me some disinfectant from the trunk, Cam"
I was moved off of the first cruiser and into the backseat of another. I didn't have much of an opportunity to get seated and found that there was no place to put my legs anyway. At six-three and one hundred and sixty pounds I was tall enough that I didn't fit well and skinny enough that the cuffs started digging into my wrists when I tried to sit up. I decided to just lie on my side.
On the way to the police station the one named Dave read me my rights, and told me I had been arrested for possession of a weapon. He also told me there the kid I shot didn't look good and I should think about cooperating now rather than later. I tried to tell him I didn't shoot anyone, that I just found the gun and picked it up for some strange reason, but they didn't even pretend to believe me.
At the station the handcuffs were removed and, I was frisked again only this time more thoroughly. I guess that was when Dave noticed some blood on my clothes so off they came. So there I was standing in the middle of the booking room wearing only a set of wet white briefs and a pair of white tube socks feeling totally humiliated when Dave spotted some more blood on the waistband of my underwear. He told me I'd have to give them up too and I said, "No way!"
If I had to guess I would now state with confidence that Officer Dave had never been a member of the debating team in highschool although I would not doubt he wrestled. In one swift maneuver my arm was bent up behind my back and my ear pressed against the concrete wall. Another set of hands at my hips and then my underwear were down at my ankles. I stepped out of them grudgingly and my socks were pulled from my feet as well.
"You think you're in control here you little shit? Tough kid with a gun isn't so tough now huh?" taunted Dave. I had only just met the guy but I was certain I would never forget him. I was naked in front of four policemen and a female guard. They were all looking at me and I had never felt so self-conscious before. I answered all their questions from that position, name, date of birth, address, phone number and next of kin. They asked me if I wanted to call a lawyer but at the time I just wanted some dignity so I declined.
Dave still had my arm contorted in a devious hold and he was lead me down a narrow hallway towards a holding cell. As I passed by other cells there were catcalls from the occupants inside directed my way. Just outside the entrance to my new temporary home Dave told a younger cop to check me good before he put me in. I saw the younger guy blush furiously as one the female guard handed him a pair of blue rubber gloves as she left the area.
"Don't worry, Cam, I've got a hold on him. Just do it quickly"
I felt a hand sifting through my hair and then my necklace was removed from around my neck. I was still wearing a single gold stud in my left ear and I could feel the younger cop's hands tremble as he took it out. Next I felt his hands on my ass cheeks and he told me to stop clenching them shut. I tried to brace myself for the next indignity but it never happened. Apparently a look at my butt crack was all that was required. I released a sigh. I was totally unprepared for what happened next.
Suddenly a gloved hand was on my nuts, lifting them gently and then releasing them. His other hand went to my penis and grasping it firmly retracted the foreskin backwards until the head was exposed. To my horror, I started to get an erection and he let go of my dick.
"All done - he's fine" said Cam and Dave pushed me into the cell and slid the door closed until it latched. Dave noticed my boner and pointed it out to Cam teasing us both.
"See that, Cam, first week on the job and already you've got a friend. Ha! Look at that wood. Next time you search a prisoner let the guy pull his own self back, you never know who's a fag these days". Dave laughed and shook his head at me and then the two walked off.
I sat there shivering on the concrete bench for a couple of hours. Mercifully my hard-on didn't last long, especially after I noticed the video camera pointed straight at my cell door. The female guard told me to lie down and go to sleep via an intercom but I was too terrified to even contemplate the idea. The cell reeked of stale urine and sweat. People in other cells yelled to each other and someone around the corner in another part of the cell block cursed and shook the bars with violence. I closed my eyes, covered my ears and tried to block out every sense at once. I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw shook.
When I opened my eyes again Officer Cam was standing in front of my cell staring at me. He had a Styrofoam cup of coffee and what looked like a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper with him.
"Do you want something to eat Marc?" he asked, "it's not much, but if you're hungry you should have it." He held the food through the bars and I stood up to take it from him. Five minutes after being left alone inside my cell I had fashioned myself a covering out of toilet paper. I figured there was no way I was going to use the facilities what with the camera, so I might as well preserve at least shred of decorum. Of course jumping up to take the meal caused the toilet paper to fall to the ground into a puddle on the floor. Once again I was naked in front of this stranger. I accepted the food and covered my dick with my other hand.
"Sorry about what happened earlier", he said, "I'm new here and I probably did that wrong -- it's my fault you ah... that umm, you... well anyway, I was probably just as embarrassed as you were."
"Why" I answered haughtily, "did you have a boner too, you jerk?"
He just stared at me then turned around abruptly and left the cellblock. I ate my sandwich and tried desperately not to burn my tongue on the scalding hot acrid coffee. Some time later Officer Cam returned to my cell with something white in his hand.
"Here" he said, "put this on. I'm going to fingerprint you and then one of the detectives is going to talk with you."
It turned out the white thing was actually a thin cloth one-piece jumpsuit. It wasn't actually my size but it covered my essentials much better than the toilet paper did, and offered a measure of warmth as well. Officer Cam watched me dress and warned me not to act up when he opened the cell doors. He was about my size but I guessed about fifty pounds heavier. It was hard to tell with the bulletproof vest on and all the equipment he carried on his belt. Not that I would even consider challenging him; even if we were dead even I knew someone like Dave wouldn't be far away. I finished zipping up my tuxedo and Cam unlatched the door. I followed him down a series of hallways until we came to the fingerprinting room.
He took my picture and squirted ink out onto the pad. Next he came up from behind me and took my hand in his and manipulated each finger one by one first onto the inkpad and then onto the paper. He was standing so close to me I could feel his hip against my butt and I could smell the clean fragrance of soap and a light cologne. When he was done, my hands were black and he told me to wash up in the sink then come back and sit down. I did as I was told and when I returned he started asking me questions to complete the fingerprint form. I answered him as best I could and he typed the information into the computer.
"So how did you know?" he interjected.
"How did I know what?" I answered.
"That I was hard too" he whispered. "I didn't even notice you were, I was so scared someone would pick up on me. I just about died when Dave mentioned it. I thought he had seen me."
I just sat there trying to rationalize what this cop had just told me when he spoke again.
"I mean I've heard of gaydar before but I was never really good at it. You pegged me instantly though I bet? Dave was right you never know where you'll find us huh? How long have you been out?" he asked.
I couldn't believe what he was saying and I wasn't sure how to reply. When I was younger I had been involved in circle jerk with some guys at summer camp. It started off as a race to see who would finish first. Partway through the competition amidst the seven of us standing there naked, beating our meat, someone suggested that the loser had to clean up the winner's mess with his mouth. Right at that moment I felt that familiar twinge in my balls and before I knew it, I was shooting cum all over myself and into the center of our group.
I wasn't usually that fast when I masturbated by myself, but on that day I was the clear winner. The others followed suite soon after, one by one until only Bradley was left. He tried to back out of the deal, as did I, but the peer pressure was relentless. Finally we both gave in. Bradley dropped to his knees in front of me and prepared to keep his end of the bargain. Before he started he began stroking his own dick again, only this time with a fervor he hadn't displayed during the competition. He licked a thin trail of semen off of my stomach and it tickled. Then he licked the fingers on my right hand, cleaning the places where I was still wet. Next he opened his mouth and sucked the thick white cum out of my pubic hair and off the underside of my balls. My dick got hard again almost instantly and the other guys cheered Bradley on when they noticed my reaction. I felt certain he would stop then and consider his end of the bargain satisfied, but by then they were chanting his name and he remained entranced.
When he put his lips onto the end of my cock I just about lost it right then, but when he started bobbing his head up and down the full length of my shaft there was no hope of holding the orgasm back any longer. I pulled back and tried to free myself from his mouth, but he had one hand behind me grasping my bum and holding me in place. I wanted to tell him to stop, to warn him what was going to happen, but the reality was that at that moment I had surrendered to it. I was lost to the pleasure and the ecstasy of my release. Since that day I had never felt such an intense and forceful ejaculation.
Although I was certain that each squirt from my dick was as full as the one before, Bradley never broke his stride and didn't miss a drop. Well he didn't miss a drop of mine that is. His own cum shot wildly onto my legs and barefeet then trickled down onto the floor of the cabin. He licked from the base of my penis to the tip and kissed away the last drop of semen before he lowered his head and licked up his own offering from my ankles and between my toes. The rest of the guys applauded and then the moment was gone as the gravity of the situation set in.
Since that day, there were many times I relived that event over in my mind. It was the strongest image whenever I masturbated from then on. Although the memory was mine to edit as I saw fit it was always replayed exactly the way it happened. At times I wondered why I never substituted some I knew girl for Bradley but I didn't. I tried to tell myself it was only the uniqueness of the situation, the surprise and spontaneity but in truth it was because a guy did it and because sometimes I wished we had traded places.
Cam was still looking at me with huge question mark in his blue eyes. He ran his fingers through the light brown hair that hung down over his forehead then back along the top of his head where it was shaved short. His skin was slightly tanned and his arms were almost hairless. I watched as he absently bit his top lip and tilted his head to the side waiting. For some reason I trusted him.
"I'm not out" I answered him finally. He nodded and smiled.
I am working without a net here. Usually I write two or three chapters before releasing the first, but this story has a momentum of its own and I can't wait to share it. For those of you who are waiting for the next installment of "In Too Deep", I apologize. I am finding that one harder to revisit and writing this chapter instead was extremely satisfying. As always I appreciate hearing from you.
Chad Prescott.