This story is based on possible future events, but if it ever gets like this in America, I am moving to another country, I kid you not. All characters and events are fictitious, any similarities to actual persons or events are coincidental. Of course this is all a crock, but lawyers make us write it anyway. I mean honestly, don't we all write what we know? And what do we know? Actual persons and events. This story contains sexual situations between males, which is exactly why it is posted on this website. If this subject offends you, get new parts for your head and join the 21st Century. If you shouldn't be here, please leave now. This story has been edited by tim on my behalf. Please e-mail comments to: stopherlaw@yahoo.com
Sigh. I suppose it is not surprising that I am sitting here on this cold hard cot, thinking about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He was arrested many times, and even wrote from his Birmingham jail cell. I certainly do not consider myself a Civil Rights leader, but I guess many people do.
My name is Eric. I am a lawyer, for now. After what happened earlier today, I am sure the Attorney Discipline Board will be after my license. It did not use to be like this. I was in practice for five years, and never lost a case. It did not matter what the case was about, or who I was representing. I was that good. I still am, I guess. But now the laws are really stacked against me.
It all began just over one year ago, when Congress passed the heinous Defense of Normalcy Act. Gay Marriage was outlawed, and the active practice of homosexuality was made a felony. A felony! Can you believe that? Of course, being a gay man myself, I was outraged. I found a test case within a week of the day the Act was passed, and we went to court. I knew the Supreme Court would strike it down as unconstitutional.
What I had not counted on was Congress packing the Court (or as we, at least we with a warped sense of humor, in the community like to say "fudge packing"). Overnight the number of Justices went from 9 to 17. Eight homophobic Justices, plus those few already on the bench, upheld that gay-bashing legislation. And with the Court in their pocket, the federal government, rife with bible-humpers (no, that was not a typo, for these people do not thump the bible, they make love to it), passed as many regulations and bills they desired.
The DEA declared semen a narcotic, adding it to its list of illegal drugs. The FDA, citing a study by a Christian college, ruled that semen was intoxicating to males. Every state in the Union by this time had passed laws outlawing the consumption of semen by males. The INS banned homosexuals from entering the country. The "don't ask, don't tell" policy in the armed forces was abolished, and once again every new recruit was asked the following: "Have you ever committed a sexual act with a member of the same sex or an animal? Do you cross dress? Do you wet the bed? How often do you masturbate?"
I represented six former members of the military who were dishonorably discharged. I lost each case. I have not won a case in the last year. That is when I dedicated my life to defending gay men accused of violating these so-called "decency laws". That is why I am sitting here in this jail cell, writing this letter. My client has been accused of Driving Under the Influence of Semen. I got a little mouthy with the judge during the arraignment, and I was held in contempt of court! I knew I should not have lost my temper, but I am just getting so sick of all this. The FBI and CIA have been after me for the past five months, hoping to nail me. They have even tried to entrap me a few times. Damn, they have some hot looking agents!
So now you are probably wondering what I meant when I wrote about getting all up in the face of that judge. Well, and I know this sounds juvenile, but he started it. What you have to understand is that this judge and I go way back. Twenty years in fact. I was 12 and he was 14. I was in seventh grade, and he was in eighth grade. We were both on the middle school track team.
In the last week of the season, a few days before our final meet of the year, he and I were sitting out of practice for various injuries. Maybe an hour or so before practice was over that day, the coach asked us to make sure the locker room was stocked with fresh towels. It was a Monday, and towels had a nasty habit of disappearing from the showers over the weekends!
So the Judge, his name is Aaron, and I first went up the coaches office to pickup some fresh towels. We were the only ones in there, and we were like kids in a candy store. I mean, we were into everything! I was checking out the bus flares while Aaron was looking at the coaches private bathroom. He asked me to come over to look at it, so I did. Hey, I know what you are thinking, but I was a naive 12 year old, and I was just happy to hang out with an eighth grader. I thought it was cool. I thought he was cool. The coaches had a huge tile shower in their bathroom, and Aaron told me to walk in and see how big it was. I did. When I turned around, Aaron was standing in the shower entrance. His pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, revealing a huge bulge restrained by white briefs. He had a look in his eyes that I could not quite figure out, but knew was bad.
Then he said, "feel me!"
I honestly had no idea what he was talking about, I was that innocent. But I knew from the sound of his voice that it was not something I should be doing. I said no, and backed up into the corner of the shower. He stepped towards me and repeated his demand. Again I told him no.
Then he said, "then I'll feel you!" He grasped my throat and shoved me against the shower wall with his left hand, and dove for my crotch with his right.
I fought him as best I could, but it was no use. Aaron was bigger and stronger than I was. Aaron was nearly six feet tall. He had huge bulging muscles. He lived on a lake, and spent a lot of time swimming and skiing. He had a deep tan, even at that time of the year (Spring). His brown hair was slightly bleached by the sun. It was short, because in our private school we had to keep our hair cut short. He had piercing green eyes.
I was a weakling in every sense of the word. I do not think I was even 5' 5" by this time, and had no muscle whatsoever. I had pretty much lost most of my baby fat, but I was nothing more than a wimp. And I had absolutely no clue whatsoever. It never even occurred to me that I would have my very first ever sexual experience in a shower stall one day after school. I was an only child and there were no other kids in my neighborhood. Modesty was very big in my house, and I had not yet experienced "the talk". In fact, I never had "the talk". Everything I learned about sex I found out on my own. I was 12 years old and I didn't even know about masturbation!
Well, Aaron of course got his hand in my pants, and he wrapped his sweaty hand around my puny member. I had begun puberty the year before, so I was somewhat developed, but I still had the cock and balls of a preteen. Aaron gently squeezed my penis a few times, then rubbed it with his thumb while his shaking fingers caressed my velvety scrotum.
"Doesn't that feel good," he asked.
I was so scared, all I could do is nod my head. It really did not feel good at all, but I did not want to anger him. I can still to this day remember the feeling that overwhelmed me when Aaron got his hand down my pants. I totally collapsed emotionally. I did not cry, but I felt very much like a part of me just died. I could feel my innocence being flushed from my spirit. I was Aaron's party, and resigned to succumb to his every demand.
After massaging my privates for a few minutes, Aaron told me to put my hand in his pants. I did as I was told, and hesitantly put my hand between the waistband of his briefs and his warm wet stomach. I grabbed his rigid prick. It was warm and throbbing.
"Oh yeah," Aaron moaned, "doesn't that feel good!" I had to admit that at this point I thought it was pretty decent. I still was not sure what I was doing, but everything seemed to be going fine.
Then Aaron took his hand out of my pants. I took my hand out of his. "Turn around and pull down your pants," he instructed.
I had a vague idea of what was next, but not really. I turned around to face the wall, pulling my pants and briefs down past my knees. I felt his hard thick pole being shoved between my ass cheeks, poke at my asshole, and enter my anus. It was weird and uncomfortable, but not painful. Aaron shoved his cock into my ass until he couldn't push it in any further. I felt full. Aaron reached around my body to play with my cock and balls.
"Doesn't that feel good," he groaned. We stayed like that for several minutes. He did not pump in and out of me.
He pulled out, turned around, and ordered me to do the same to him. I was short, so he had to crouch down while bending over, but I finally got my tiny stiffy shoved into his warm butt. He reached behind himself to grab my hands and pull them around to his cock and balls. I played with them while my dick was in his ass. After a few minutes, Aaron straightened up and stepped away from me. My penis popped out of his butt.
He pulled up his pants, turned around, got in my face, and told me that if I ever told anyone about what happened, he would kill me. I never did until just now. Nor did I tell anyone that the exact same thing happened twice the next afternoon. By that Wednesday, when we had our last track meet of the season, I was actually looking forward to getting together with Aaron again, but he did not stay after school. A couple of years later, when we were both at the same private high school, I tried to get him to talk about raping me, but he avoided me, and even went so far as to complain to the school administrators that I was harassing him and making stuff up about him.
Well shit. All that thinking back to what Aaron and I did has made me hard as a rock! Only one way to remedy this problem. Thankfully the toilet had a little privacy wall around it. Not much, but I might be able to sit down like I'm taking a dump, and toss off a load without the guards seeing. I don't even want to think about what would happen to me if I were caught.
Four years ago, before all of this Normalcy Act crap, I represented a 13 year old boy in a termination of parentage proceeding. His Father had caught the boy masturbating, and broke his fingers with a hammer. Both parents had their rights terminated, the Father for criminal abuse and the Mother for neglect. The Father is still in prison. The Mother is turning tricks somewhere. The boy was placed in a very loving and tolerant foster home, and the last I heard, which was about three months ago at a review hearing, he was doing very well.
Jesus! What made me think of that? Oh yeah, my hardon! Well, enough reminiscing, it's time to get down to business. So excuse me for a moment while I reach into my trousers and take hold of my raging stiff one. Not bad really. I mean, nothing to brag to the world about, but I've had no complaints. Six inches, cut, and thick. Mmm, that feels really good, just slowly stroking my cock, up and down, grasping just firmly enough to move the skin back and forth.
Shit, there's the guard, but he doesn't even seem to care. Cool. I can stretch out my legs and pump a little bit faster then. Oh yeah, that's feels much better. Dare I slip my other hand underneath my shirt to rub my nipples? Oh shit, I won't have to. I'm gonna. Uh. Mmm. Fuck, that was awesome.
Maybe that is why I was so unprofessional in court today. It is funnyI suppose, in an ironic sort of way. That rape had sort of imprisoned me emotionally for the last 20 years. Now, the same guy who did it put me in jail! This had not been the first time I had appeared in front of Judge Dix, but it was the first time in the last half dozen when I simply decided not to bend over and take it up the ass from him again.
I argued when he refused to grant my client bail. "Your honor," I said, "this is wholly inequitable and you know it. Drunk drivers are let back out on the street daily, and my client is a lot less of a threat to society than they are!"
The judge denied my request, saying, "Your client is accused of a felony, and all felons are dangerous to society, especially those who commit such deviant crimes."
I argued when he refused to allow me an evidentiary hearing. The judge did make the correct ruling of course, since the decency laws did not allow for evidentiary hearings, but I still requested one. That is when the first fine was levied.
"I've warned you about this in the past Mr. Gabriels." admonished the judge. "You know I cannot grant you a hearing on this matter, and I'm going to fine you $100 for wasting this court's valuable time with such a frivolous request."
I argued when he refused to grant my motions to suppress the evidence against my client. I wanted to prevent the results of the Blood Sperm Content tests from being admitted as evidence at my client's trial. I argued that the tests were an illegal search and seizure, since the cop had no probable cause. The prosecutor responded to my argument by saying that my client was wearing a gay pride bracelet, which was all the probable cause the cop needed.
I objected on Constitutional grounds, arguing that my client was exercising his Free Speech rights and that it would be an unreasonable restraint on his First Amendment protections if the judge bought the prosecution's argument. It didn't work. The judge not only agreed with the prosecutor, but he also fined me another $100. $50 each for my two lapel pins, a pink triangle and a pride flag.
The judge said, "I do not appreciate such subversive and disrespectful symbols in my courtroom."
I just lost it and said, "May it please the court, and with all due respect your honor, suck my dick!"
I thought the Judge was going to throw his gavel at me! He immediately ordered the bailiff to take me to jail. So here I have been sitting for the past few hours. I made some phone calls to friends I have in the local media, but they are too afraid to help me anymore. The last time a favorable article was written about one of my cases, a Possession of Semen matter, the newspaper was audited by the IRS. The FCC was also into the homophobia business. It fined a local station when it came out in support of my petition drive to open a safe house for gay teenagers.
Sadly, that is the way it has been here in America the past year or so. It has been all out war by the homophobes. From what I have been able to figure out, their goal is basically to make up ridiculous laws, get us convicted of them, and have us sentenced to either prison, where they can keep us away from everybody else, or to sexual reprogramming counseling centers, where they try to "normalize" us.
I have heard a lot of horror stories about each from clients and former clients. I've been trying to get them out on Eighth Amendment Cruel and Unusual arguments, but just about every court I've argued in front of has held it's not cruel and unusual to promote "decency".