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Fuckin' Justice!!!!! :)
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Fuckin' Justice!!!!! :) During my youth I was very rebellious. I guess you can say I was your average . I experienced many adventures and misadventures. Each experience proved to have consequences. Of the varied consequences I've endured, the lose of my freedom had proved itself to truly be bittersweet. I was in the latter part of my 18th year. Unfortunately, that milestone was marred by my being incarcerated on Riker's Island. When I was 17 yrs. old, I tried to avenge the attempted of my only sister. To my dismay, a self defense defense is only valid if you're rich or influential. I was neither. Plus, I was told that vendettas weren't recognized, by law, as justifiable. Anyway, I was sentenced to 4 1/2 to 9 years for the offense of 1st degree assault. I was resentful and bitter upon arriving at DownState Correctional Facility, the first of numerous State prisons my stint would take me to. The very first cell I was given, I noticed a book on the bunk. Considering where I was at, I automatically assumed it was some sort of hardcore novel or soft core Joan Collins crap, but, to my surprise, it wasn't. It was actually the Autobiography of Malcolm X. One of the many things I learned from reading it was that he and I were in similar predicaments. So I adopted the philosophy " Do the time, don't let the time do you." Hence I pursued furthering my education. I was the first to receive a G.E.D. and start college out of all my siblings. One of the main perks of going to school were the many civilian women who were employed by the State as teachers, aides and administrators. Of course, fraternization between inmates and staff, of any ilk, was frowned upon, and punishable by termination or solitary confinement, but the laws of nature and attraction would not, nor could not be ignored. In my second semester of college, one of the classes I chose was Criminal Justice 101. What better way to properly learn one's rights. To my delight, my instructor was female and very open. She made me feel as though we were conversing on a park bench in Washington Square Park. She told me she was a former hippie and was even a biker chick, at one point. She was currently a traffic judge, for a small township named Cortland, in upstate New York. Her open disclosures were very welcomed compared to the guarded atmosphere I had grown accustomed to. She had long thick locks of fiery red hair, and I admired the contrast when it flowed over her milky white, faintly freckled skin. I remember during the final 2 weeks of the semester, wracking my brain as to whether I could risk telling her how much she turned me on. It had been at least 3 yrs. since I last been with a woman. Many scenarios came to mind, but each ended with me being hauled off to solitary. I finally decided to go the tactfully sublime route. Before her class began, I removed my boxer drawers, and cut a slit between the legs of my state issued green pants. When I arrived to class, I took my usual seat up front. I was the first one there. We exchanged greetings and I sat down. My heart was racing. But I couldn't turn back. When she sat at her desk, I started with idle chit chat and slowly revealed, what had now become a full raging hard on. I wanted to be a bit more subtle and reveal a half hardened cock, but it was out of my hands. Her eyes widened and she immediately stood up. My heart pounded in my ears. She went by the classroom 's windowed door and peered out. A wave of relief washed over me, when she turned, faced me and said she had always wondered about me and was so glad that not only was I tall, but that I was a "big boy" too. She put a chair beside her desk and told me to sit there, I obliged. To any one passing the room it would appear as though we were just talking, but actually, she said she wanted to smell the scent my cock gave off. By now, my cock was plank rigid. It seemed to throbbing-ly nod its approval as she peered at it. I wanted her to touch it... I needed her to hold it. At this point, my hands were the only contact I had known in so many years. I asked to look under her dress, and she slowly parted her legs. My breathing shortened when I saw the plump, ever moistening mound that pressed against the cottony fabric of her panties. Suddenly she shut her legs and squeezed them together, her eyes became sultry slits and her bottom lip whitened as she bit down on it. Then she went limp. Her skin was a flushed reddish pink, and a mix of relief and exhaustion overshadowed her features. She smiled at me and said that I was too much. I asked her to hold my cock. The pleasure I was feeling was beginning to rage for release. My balls were swollen, and the cum within felt as if it were bubbling back into my stomach. It would have proved impossible to close my legs now. I took her by the wrist to pull her toward me, but she swiveled away from me. She told me she wanted to relieve me of my load, but that we can't forget where we were and that if she touched me, she wouldn't care if she were caught or not. There was too much at stake. Plus, she observed, there weren't any blind spots in the room. Eighteen months later I was released on parole, and we stayed in touch. A year later we finally got together. She had come to New York for some kinda legal seminar held at The New York Hilton..... To be continued.    |
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