God’s Gunner’s, Booty Bandits, & Bad Boys
By R25288 ( c ) 2006
Chapter Sixteen
The Joy of Loving J.D. Begins
“Love is patient,
love is kind…
it keeps no record
of wrongs.
It always protects,
always trusts,
always hopes,
always perseveres.
Love never fails…
And now these three remain:
faith, hope and love.
But the greatest
of these is love.”
NIV
I Corinthians
13:4,5,7,8,13
Sent to me from my boy, J. D., from behind the razor wire, in September, 2006. It was the month of our first intimate encounter in 2004, in the open, behind the razor wire. Often, in prison doing things in the open is the least conspicuous, and least noticed way to handle business, or pleasure, because it is not expected.
I believe it was Tim Robbins who said in the Shawshank Redemption, by Stephen King, something akin to, ”I had to come to prison to think like a criminal.”
People and events come into our lives for a meaning, my dear gentle reader, and it is up to you to figure out the meaning. J.D. was in lock up. It could be for a day, a week, a month, months, or he could just get transferred. Prison is like that. Similar to the slave master grabbing your son, father, brother, sister, or mother, without a moment’s notice, and no chance to say good-bye.
He is just an inmate, a number, a slave, and that is how our current system works. And you, Virginia, as an inmate, are just another number, and your feelings, and emotions are irrelevant to the smooth functiong of the prison. I now believe I know what slaves must have felt like to have had their loved ones torn away from them, to be taken off in chains, and sold to the highest bidder. I try to keep the word out of my vocabulary, but I “hated” it, and my relative helplessness to do anything about it.
I wrote the warden and told him that J.D. had been DR (disciplinary report) free, and was not responsible, and it was the other inmate they locked up that was responsible. J. D.’s parents called regularly. But it is the old mentality of , ”We think one of those inmates did it, so lock ‘em all up.” While the authority person may say, “Kill ‘em all, and let God figure it out.” I call it the ole “My Lai” mentality. Why let that baby grow up, and maybe end up shooting at us, or that woman bear another child, that may grow up and shoot at us, let’s just kill ‘em all now, or in America, let’s just lock ‘em up now, before one of them steals from us, or hurts us, and let’s just put them away for life while we’re at it. No repeat offenders then, for sure.
So, I was just a helpless inmate/slave, and my heart hurt, so I started hanging out with Brad, ( Rad to his friends, cause he took no shit ) and we walked the track, and spent time together. He was a black veteran of the system, openly bisexual, and didn’t play the down low game He was still young, and had spent time in the most infamous prisons in this country. We became friends, and he showed himself to me on Thursday, June 24th, 2004. I use to watch him play basketball, and he would buy me food, whenever he got money, and I would do the same for him, when I got money.
His team won the championship basketball tournament at Liberty that year, and he was the center. I enjoyed watching him play and score. I would usually leave a little before the game was over, to beat the canteen rush, and buy us cold sodas, and bring one back to him by the end of the game. He liked Sprite, and I stuck to my Diet Coke. He was generous, gentle, and always respectful with me. But, we both knew it was a sexual thing, and we never used the L word with each other-love.
On July 10th, 2004, I went to jail because a big black guy slapped me, while Rad and I were chatting on a bench in front of G dorm. The guy was upset that I was too slow in loaning him one of my magazines that I was reading. I have no problem letting “the man” know when dumb ass bullies try to intimidate me, because I know I am just a gay old cracker, and violence isn’t my game. But put your hands on me in a non-loving way, and I’ll get ya locked up, and had no qualms about doing it, or cared what you or other inmates thought about me being a snitch. This was prison, and if you weren’t going to play by Hoyle, or Robert’s Rules of Order, fuck you, neither was I going to play by the old prison game rules that favored the intimidators. I was not going to play by the old good old boy school rules. The rules that says gays were expected to get hit, and say nothing. Fuck that! Fortunately, for all of their inadequacies, the DOC at Liberty, to their credit, helped keep violence to a minimum, and for that, I commend them. I was locked up until July 15th, and released with no DR, and so was my intimidator. The system did some good, but preferred the old school network of keeping gays in their place-down.
In confinement, I was across from the eight individual locked showers stalls, with bars, not doors, so their was no privacy; four upstairs and four downstairs. I watch for J.D. every shower day, but he was so modest that he never turned to face me, but he had a nice ass. I basically gave the rest of the men privacy and respect at shower time. I saw J.D. twice in confinement, and use to send him my USA Today newspaper to read through a run-around, with staff approval. The rules lean against it, but there were many humane staff back in confinement, which I do again commend the administration at Liberty for providing, because it is an environment ripe for substantial, dangerous abuse, without the right staff.
I had an interesting roommate that propositioned me, and I gracefully declined. He was a Puerto Rican, from New York, that use to sell heroin. He told me he bought his mother and grandmother a house, and a car each, before he blew a guy’s leg off for trying to rip him off of $78,000.00. He has $6,000.00 left of what use to be $30,000.00 and still has multple years left to serve. His money will run out long before his sentence does. Prison is a real drag, and without a little cash to spend once in a while, it is depressing desperation. I am so thankful for my family’s support, especially my little brother’s donations he placed into my prison trust account each month, and my older brothers continual renewals of my USA Today newspaper, stamps, paper, and envelopes.
They let J.D. out after 39 days, and shipped the guy responsible to another prison. Word got to me, and I found J.D. and walked up behind him and gave him a bear hug. I had left Rad in the Rec yard, and told him I was going to find J.D. He knew, and was OK with the love I felt for J.D. I told J.D. about Rad and I becoming intimate, and he was OK with that, as that wasn’t his thing anyway, he said. We then went and picked Rad up, and they walked me home, and I hugged them both. I’m glad J.D. is out. Rad told me he thought he and I would be done once he saw J.D. and I together. I told him I cared for them both, and Rad would soon be going home, and besides Rad and I had become intimate, which J.D. and I had never done. They also put J.D. back into his old dorm , which I had asked the warden to do, as J.D. had done nothing wrong.
It was J.D.’s birthday, when they released him. Who says the DOC doesn’t have heart? I wrote J.D. the following:
Happy Bithday, Birthday Baby!
For J.D., Love, Chris
To see you again today, my friend,
Caused my heart to soar like an eagle
On Wednesday, June 16th, 2004, I wrote in my journal:
“J.D. went to jail yesterday. I miss him.”
So, it’s your birthday, it’s your birthday
Happy Birthday, honey!
I’m sorry I couldn’t bake you a cake
Or give you a blow job
Hope you’ll take a rain check
You’re 24, you’re beautiful, and you’re my buddy
And I’ll buy you a birthday chocolate donut, and soda
As soon as my next money hits
You know how we do it!
J.D., I got love for you
And you know it’s true
I spoke to the sergeant for you,
Let my people go!
I wrote the warden for you,
Let my people go!
I told him you’d been here since January, 2003
With no DR’s
I told him you were innocent
I told him to let you return to your dorm, and not transfer you
Let my people go!
When I was back in confinement
I liked watching you shower
Even if you only showed me your ass, you shy guy, you
You started teaching me sign language
You tickled me as we said good night,
The evening before you went to jail
I liked the time we spent together
I liked walking the track with you
I liked your playfulness,
Your openness, your sensitivity
I’ve gotten close to Rad
As close as I want to be with you
He has unselfishly shared himself with me
And helped me meet my needs
You told me once I was a blessing to you
I told you I would always be honest with you
So, let me help you with your law work
Let’s again walk the track together
Let me wrap my arm through yours again
And hold my hand when we say good bye
I love you J.D., and want us to stay close, and someday closer
Happy Brthday, Honey! These words are my present to you, at least for now
Hope you like it.
All My Love,
Chris
J.D. wrote me the following letter the next day:
Chris, 7/24/04
What’s up main-man? I read your letter. Some things made me smile, and some made me shake my head. Partner, I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, but I’m a Man. It’s just some things men don’t do. I told you that I don’t get down. I respect you for who you are and what you do, and I don’t have a problem with that. Indeed you are a blessing to me, as a matter of fact. I prayed for someone to come along willing to help me without me going looking around for someone. That way I’ll know it was meant to be. So, there you came. (smiley face) I let you get away with things I just don’t let people do-like touch all on me, but because I like you and you’re a pretty cool dude, I don’t mind it at times.
Main-man, if I was to get down on that level, you would know it, but until then, ain’t nothing. I’m not trying to sell my soul. I myself have need’s to be filled, but that’s why God made woman. Just because I’m in prison, that’s not going to change the way I feel. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I just want you to know where I stand. If you want to go your way, I understand. “God” Bless You My Brotha.
Respectfully,
Your Friend J.D.
So, it was unrequited love, and we stayed friends, and continued to go to the law library, and Rad and I contined to have our encourters. Rad was always good for cumming twice; I was happy with once. I kept J. D. posted. My free time was always with one of them.
I was a trained professional salesman, since I started selling TV Guides, and Grit newspapers, in the projects of Lexington, Kentucky, in 1958, at age 8. I was trained by the best. If the customer says “No,” do you stop asking, or does the trained professional salesperson at least wait for at least three “No’s?” Is it persistence, perserverance, gumption, balls, playing your heart out, just do it, going for the gusto, try, and try again, ingenuity, spirit, give it all ya got, never surrender, creativity, and exploration. Or, when does it become harassment and exploitation?
Did we split the atom, for atomic power, or was that harassing the universe, and exploiting the potential for atomic bombs? That, my dear gentle reader, I will leave to you, and the future to decide on your own.
I would settle for J.D.’s friendship, but I wanted his love. I have loved straight men before, and settled for, and enjoyed those sexless friendships. And I have turned down straight men and gay men who just wanted sex. I believe in the right of any man or woman to say “No,” and mean “No,” and no one ever has the right to think that their need is more important than the other person’s needs, or that a woman wearing a short skirt is an invitation for rape or harassment.
A guy in for thirty years for shooting and killing someone, once, at the canteen window said, “Chris, how about buying me a Coke?” He was a young, black man, that I had little interaction with, and I gave him my standard response of, “Times are tough.” He responded with, “If I had my gun, I’d shoot you right now.” He was serious, and he was raised fatherless, with too little self control training, or discipline. I truly believed at that moment, if he had a gun, he would have shot me. I appreciated the staff for keeping guns out of inmates’ hands, or the capability of getting any. Shanks were another story.
Virginia, we have a choice, we can teach him and his kind self control at an earlier age, at a much lower costs, or we can continue to build more prisons. However, Virginia, recognize that the choice of prison will never solve the basic issue of his lack of control, or make society any safer, because his kind will always be out there hurting someone before they get caught, unless we teach them self control and peaceful conflict resolution, at a much earlier age. We can make our society safer without becoming a police state, and that is what the founders of our country wanted also. Regardless of what conservative politicians try to sell the public today about giving up liberty for safety. Without our liberties, there is no safety.
“The vile person shall be no more called liberal, nor the churl said to be bountiful.
“The instuments also of the churl are evil: he devisth wicked devices to destroy the poor with lying words, even when the needy speaketh right.
“But the liberal deviseth liberal things; and by liberal things shall he stand.”
Isaiah
32:5,7,8
I ended my Friday, July 23rd, 2004, entry at 9:35pm, with:
“Life is good.”
My notes from Wednesday, September 8th, 2004, at 8:09am, reads:
“J.D. gave me a brown sugar and cinammon pop tart yesterday. Hurricane Frances came through on the weekend, with just a little rain here. I spent the weekend reading J.D.’s case, and took ten pages of notes regarding possible defense arguments. We go to the law library today. I asked J.D. yesterday if he was going to be my partner when Rad goes home in November, and he said, ‘Yes.’ I liked the sound of it so much, I never asked him what that meant to him.
“I finished reading the Autobiography of Malcolm X, and am now reading the Delta of Venus Erotica, by Anais Nin. It was 80 degrees, and sunny today. Due to working on my law work, and J. D.’s, Rad and I have not been intimately together during the past month. I think I found some good issues for J.D. My high school friend got me a six month subscription to the Wall Street Journal. During my confinement days, it was the highlight of my day, especially Fridays, when they had all the beautiful homes to look at. Reading material is quite limited in confinement. I read the WSJ from cover to cover, and didn’t skip any articles. In one editorial, they advocated the killing of someone, probably Osama. I wrote a letter to the editor and chastised them, as I didn’t think they should be advocating killing anyone. They didn’t respond, but I never read an editorial again advocating killing. (Written on 9-21-04).
“Zoe, and Tic, both went home last week. They both asked if we could get together before they left. I declined them both. It’s hell being popular. After 75 days, we again have water to shower at will with, without rationing it.”
My notes from Tuesday, September 21st, 2004, 7:22am:
“J.D. and I have been spending time together in the law library, and now I’m teaching him basic math. I love his innocence. I professed my love for him yesterday, and he said, ‘Ditto.’ He sat next to me 3rd yard, on the bleachers, after he worked out. We did some more math studying. He brought his study book to the yard in his laundry bag, with his law work. He had his shirt off. I asked him to flex his chest muscle, and he did, and I pushed on one chest area with my finger and said, ‘It’s hard.’ He replied, ‘You’re crazy.’ I said, ‘Yeah, crazy in love with you.’ He replied, ‘Ditto.’ I complimented his build, and touched his flat stomach, with six pack ripples. He said, ‘You’re going to make me blush.’
“He got his haircut short, with a good edge (outline). He has fine eyebrows. I often wipe the sweat off his forehead, and touch his arms, back, and legs. I told him not to be afraid of numbers, but to think of them like a woman; once you get to know them, you naturally overcome your fear. In teaching, I try to bring the subject matter into a common, known and liked area, and then relate the similarities. My own Socratic method of teaching.
“Hurricane Ivan came through, after Bonnie and Charles. No damage here, but Century CI had some damage, and now about 150 of their inmates are here for supposedly three to four weeks.
“J.D. has stretch marks around his chest and shoulder area. He did pull ups on bars and dips on other bars yesterday. Four sets of twenty-five. We’re getting together every afternoon now. I’ve got love for him.
“The guy that hit me over the magazine, I now give the magazines to Rad to give to him, when I am through with them, and Rad and J.D. are both through with them. It is in forgiving, that we too are forgiven. I think alot about J.D. lately.”
On Saturday, September 25th, 2004, my journal reads:
“J.D. and I spent the week together; at law library on Wednesday and Friday pm’s, and teaching him math in am’s, after he gets his houseman duties done, and in the afternoons after he works out for one and a half hours. He was sweating on Thursday, and I wiped some sweat off of his stomach, and tasted it . I told him that he was salty. We sit together, with our legs touching, and I sometimes touch his neck and head. The other day I touched my head to his head, similar to Tom Cruise and Dustin Hoffman in the movie, Rainman.
“While we were parting, after studying at the law library, with Rad present, I said, ‘I love you,’ to J.D. J.D. hugged me, and said, ‘I love you too, buddy.’ I later gave him my electric razor, as some blacks get ingrown hairs from straight razors.
“That 3rd yard, Rad worked out with practice football, and J.D. worked out nearby. I sat on the bleachers and watched them both-my boys. There was also a regular football game going on. I got off the bleachers and started walking around. I was standing near Rad, and he asked, ‘Did they score?’ I replied, ‘I don’t know, there’s so much excitement going on around here, I don’t which way to look.’ We both starting laughing. Coming back from the law library earlier, I told J.D., part of me didn’t want to get out of prison early, because then I wouldn’t be around him any more.”
On Sunday, September 26th, 2004, at 8:18pm, my journal reads:
“J.D. and I came in from 3rd yard when it was blown at 7:30pm. At the end of 2nd yard, I told him, after teaching him math, and we started to walk a lap that I liked his new shaved bald head, and that I wanted to see his other bald head.
“He laughed at what I had said, and walked me home at the end of 2nd yard. He repeated what I had said, laughed, and gave me a hug, in front of G dorm, and told me he loved me. I told him I loved him, and I watched as he walked back to his dorm.
“He picked me up when 3rd yard opened, without his school books, as we were going to study. He asked how many laps I had walked today, and I said ‘Two.’ He asked if I wanted to walk. So, we walked and talked. I told him he could show himself to me while I was teaching him, or in the bathroom, or on the other side of the track. I said it wasn’t asking too much, and wasn’t too hard, and he agreed. I also told him I’d like us to be together after prison. I told him of trips I had taken, cooking, jobs I’d had, and the future. As we were walking around the outer track, farthest away from the guard tower, and rec center, toward the end of the yard, when most people had already gone in, to get to the canteen before it closed, I noticed him look behind us. He then asked if I wanted to see it? I said, ‘Yeah.’ He pulled it out of his pants, so no one else could see it. It was big, about 7 inches, sticking straight out, with a slight curve bending downward, and I said, ‘Wow.’ I thanked him for showing himself to me, and that we had just gotten over a big hurdle, and I loved him for sharing himself with me. I told him he was a champ, and had a champ in his pants. He laughed, and told me I was going to make him blush.
“We walked around some more, and he stopped us to point out the sun going down below the clouds in the west, and the dark clouds to the east (tropical storm Jeanne). He put his left arm around my left shoulder, as he stood to my right, as we watched the sun going down. He told me he was going to quit breaking the rule of eating twice, as he knew I was avoiding going to jail, so he was going to avoid it also.
“The whistle blew, and the yard was closed. We had made it back around to the outer track, and the yard was quickly empyting, with no one around, and I asked if I could touch it. He loosened his belt, and told me to put my hand in. I was on his left, so I stuck my right hand down the front of his pants and felt him through his shorts, and withdrew my hand. He told me to touch his skin, and I slid my hand down again, and felt his enlarged member facing down, and rubbed it, and told him I was glad he offered skin.
“I-dorm was the only dorm on campus with private rooms, where guys would go to have sex, usually on weekends. I told him I hoped he wouldn’t go to I-dorm with anyone but me, and he said if he went , I would be his first. He walked me home. I told him we were good partners, and he was my man. He hugged me, and I kissed his neck lightly. It was a great day. ‘Memories may be beautiful, but yet…”
On Monday, September 27th, 2004, my journal reads:
“Remnants of Jeanne and raining-was 65 miles an hour southeast of Tallahassee at 2am. I got up around 4am, when I heard the guys leaving to go to work in the kitchen. My watch was on my bed. It must have fallen off during the night, as I kept it under my mattress pad. Someone must have put it on my bed for me. It said 11:53, so I knew it was wrong. I went to the back stall, and jacked off thinking of J.D. I had also touched his soft balls when I felt him last night. Cumming didn’t take long.
“J.D. told me last night that no one had ever taken an interest in him in prison before, and how he cleans up in the mornings, and looks forward to coming to see me. That Virginia, is a major part of the solution, success, and salvation of our criminal dilemma-interest, not punishment is the beginning of the end to prisons overutilization. I refer here to intellectual stimulation and interest, not necessarily sexual.
“He told me I had alot of experience after talking to him about traveling, jobs, God, etc. I told him God and the Bible were about love and forgiveness, and God didn’t care whom I laid with, as long as it was loving, and not using or abusing. Last night I told him I wanted him two days a week, and his family could have him five days a week. Today I feel like reversing those numbers. He has never flown before. He told me his dick is shaped like a banana. I now have a new favorite fruit. He told me I was going to have to make him jack off. I told him I’d like to jack him off. He told me about paying once for a woman to give him a blowjob. I told him I would do it for free whenever he wanted, and I would like to. He is mostly circumsized, but still has a little skin around the head of his penis, which makes it more sensitive. I told him I never use the word love with Rad, and how God puts people in our lives to teach us things, even when we get hurt. I related how Blue had never written me. I told him thanks for sharing himself with me. I said I hadn’t washed my hand, until I had relieved myself with the same hand that had touched him the previous evening.”
On Tuesday, September 28th, 2004, at 5pm, my journal reads:
“I jacked J.D. off by the outer fence around 4pm, when no one was around, facing the empty dog house on the other side of the razor wire, facing away from the guard tower. He leaned against the fence facing the dog house, and I was to his right, leaning against the fence, facing the rec yard and guard tower. He pulled his dick out, and I used my right hand to jack him off. From a distance, it just looked like two inmates talking.
“He said it felt good to have someone else do it for a change. I was his first. He had never let another male, except a Dr. touch his privates. He felt good, and it didn’t take very long. He shot far, and alot. He got some juice on the new shorts I gave him which were mine, but I had gotten a new pair. My hand also was full of his cum. I tasted him, from the cum in my hand, and it was not bitter or salty. It was a good load. I kept jacking him gently after he shot, and he said, ‘Oh, please stop.’ I did. Someone was coming around the track, and I told him to put it away, and he did. It was our first time, and I loved it.
“Initially, I had just asked to touch it, again. After I touched him, and he looked around, he said, ‘You could jack me off right here.’ I replied, ‘Yeah, just pull it out,’ and he did, and I gave him joy, and I just covered up the evidence with some sand from the track with my shoes.
“Walking back, I asked, ‘Did I do good?’ He replied, ‘Boy, did you. Are you kidding, I think it was less than thirty strokes.’ To me, I figured it probably took one to two minutes. So, I know he was primed, ready, and enjoyed it. We stopped at the spigot, and he rinsed his t-shirt, and used the wet area to wipe the cum stains off his shorts. I rinsed my hands. Coming back, we professed love for each other, and I told him I had sticky fingers. I told him just to let me know whenever he wanted to be jacked off again. I told him it was safe, all the way around. He said, ‘Yeah, we didn’t have to go to I-dorm.’ When I initially touched him with my right hand, I felt his balls, pubic hair, and stroked him as his dick was in a downward position, and I rubbed the head of his dick.”
Being with J.D. became better than a honeybun, going to the canteen, reading the Wall Street Journal, or USA Today, or having money. He was my partner, and we loved each other, and took care of each other. He became my soulmate. We both did things with each other that neither of us had ever done with another person. We gave each other joy. We were together, in love, and in prison. For me, prison, with J.D. as a part of my life, was paradise. I was physically living in hell, but my mind and spirit were in heaven.
For our two year anniversary, I renewed his subscription to USA Today, sent him anniversary cards, and sent him a Happy Meal (means put a couple of dollars into his trust account). He sent me something better-an eleven page love letter. Here is one paragraph:
“I still remember what ya taught me about the Stockmarket, and International Finances. You found me uneducated, close minded, and lost of love. You taught me, nurtured me, and clothed me in your bosom of love. Chris, you are my everything, my all in all, my lover, my best friend, my partner, and more, forever and a day, in this life, and the next. I love you with every ounce of my being!!
Your Boy,
J.D. xoxo”
“But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain; But I laboured more abundantly than they all: yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.”
I Corinthians
15:10
