My First Year in Prison - Chapter 08 (Patreon)

My First Year in Prison

Chapter 8: Are you a Griffin or a Will?

After only a couple of weeks in prison, I already felt very disconnected from my life before being incarcerated.

Griffin came to see me with my best friend Janice, so it did not look too suspicious. I was glad it went that way. Weirdly, I was nervous about potentially being alone with Griffin, to pretend that we were not intimate in front of the other inmates, to lie to him about my life in there.

Minutes before seeing him, I almost wanted to cancel the whole thing. Maybe I could punch someone else and be done with it? I smiled to myself.

All these concerns and pressure went away as soon as I saw him though. He smiled at me, and I was calm again. I loved him. And he loved me.

Right away, I felt silly about the stupid crushes I had on several guys of district 2. More than silly, I felt wrong about asking Kurtis to train me, as if I was cheating on my fiancé. How would I react if Kurtis were to flirt with me?

Griffin, Janice and I talked mostly about work. Griffin was retelling us the issues that he had with one particularly annoying client. An old wealthy guy who apparently was never happy with the houses he was shown: the bathtub was too small, the courtyard was too big, the neighbourhood was too noisy.

Back at home, I found those stories quite boring but right there, I enjoyed every second of it: Griffin’s sarcastic tone, his humorous description of his client, his reactions, and above all, his excited eyes, too happy to tell me all about it.

They did ask me if I was fine, and I lied to them that it was not that bad. Ryan had not mentioned the incident with Frenchy. Good, they did no need to know about me fighting with another inmate, or, more importantly, what I had to do with the warden to get back my visitation right. What would Griffin say if he knew?

Things were going well and I even awkwardly introduced them to Ralph, who was on his way to fuck his new girlfriend.

The girl may have had a deep cleavage the week before, but this time, she had really gone overboard. Her crop top was so thin that it was like she did not wear any top at all, I wondered how she had been authorized to walk in there like that. The convicts were looking at her like she was a fresh piece of meat and I figured it was the intended effect.

On the sides, I could see that guard Foster would not take his eyes away from her boobs. Confirmation that he was straight, I thought.

Anyway, I told Ralph that Griffin and Janice were both good friends of mine and Ralph winked seductively at Janice. He just could not help himself! Janice smiled faintly but looked very uneasy. She may have been way less uptight than when she was in college, but being hit on by a convict was a little bit outside of her comfort zone still.

When we said goodbye, I hugged Griffin a bit longer than I was supposed to, I smelt him. He was still wearing the perfume I had bought him. More notably, he was still wearing his engagement ring. I could have cried when I felt his hand pressing my shoulders. I was afraid the other inmates surrounding us could tell.

Back in my cell, I lied down, thinking.

I really needed to focus on that. My wedding to come with Griffin. Our life together. I had been too much distracted. I was supposed to keep the lowest profile in prison. I had to revert to that.

I don’t think I have ever told you the story of how Griffin and I met.

Well, get ready to be moved my dear reader as the first words we ever exchanged to one another were really romantic.

“Hi, what’s up, cute face! I’m in LA for the weekend. I’m a top. Up for a good fuck?”

You probably guessed it; it was on GrindR. I had a new message from “IrishGuyXXX”.

I had broken up with Will a few weeks prior, I was coming back from Austin’s wedding, and I ended up in my sad Los Angeles apartment alone and quite depressed, scrolling through the app.

I was sceptical at first but the “Irish guy” did look hot and manly, he also wore clothes in most of his pictures – which was a good point - except on one shot where he was shirtless and showing off his hairy body a bit. He was not a poser or an Instagram model, I liked that.

“Bottom, vers here. You’re cute too.” I replied.

And this was the beginning of our love story!

We met that exact night, in a bar first in case he was a crazy murderer or something, and then, we came back to my apartment. We hit it off so well and so instantly that we did not even have sex that night. I know, this is quite surprising when you know me…

Not sure how the booty call did not end up with his dick in my ass but we just talked a lot, for hours and hours, about our lives, the world, being gay, religion, spirituality… We were both a little drunk and at 5 am, we just decided he would spend the rest of the night and we fell asleep cuddling each other; we had not even kissed yet.

However, I did wake up the next morning (well early afternoon) with a hot Irish naked guy in my bed and we did have sex at this point. We could not wait much longer!

It was great. Passionate. A little rough too. Griffin was kinky, he loved to play with his spit, to make me lick his feet or his armpits but he was also gentle and careful, always making sure I was enjoying my time. Often, he would put his two fingers in my mouth to tease me, I had to suck them before sucking his big cock. I loved that.

We had crazier intercourse later in our relationship, playing with toys, various dildos, food, doing some roleplays – one time he played the prison guard, and I was his prisoner, it was before I was sentenced to actual prison though – but that first time together was perfect in itself.

His body (and fingers) tasted good, his odour made me horny, he ate my ass with a vigorous passion, and I almost had an orgasm, just sitting on his face. His tongue was warm, my hole was opening for what was to come. After fucking me in the ass for a good ten minutes, mostly doggy style, he cummed in my mouth.

I saw his look when I had my mouth full of his manly juice, I could tell he loved it every bit as much as I did.

He was not selfish, a few seconds later, he finished me off by returning the favour and offering me his own mouth. I exploded in his throat and then, we kissed, swapping our cum. Yeah, we did compensate for the previous night where it was only talks and cuddling!

We ate some pancakes, he prepared them in the nude, already getting comfortable in my kitchen, and we went for round 2. This time, I was the one eating his hairy ass while jerking him off, he cummed instantly and felt bad. It lasted only a few minutes but I told him that it was ok, I was just too good at it.

We became very close quite fast, he told me he had broken up with a guy he was with since college and was starting a new chapter of his life. I needed to start a new chapter too, I did not mention that I had been fucking my patient – or rather that my patient was fucking me between two drug deals – but I did tell him that my past relationships had been messy and disappointing.

In the next few weeks, we did everything we could to spend the most time possible together. Janice had never seen me like this and for once, she approved of one my relationships. Griffin and I lived in two different cities but we always found ways to see each other.

The sex we would have every time we would meet again was insane. I learned how to please him, he let himself go harder and harder on me as we were both getting more and more comfortable. That passion during the first weeks of a relationship, there is nothing quite like this.

When he proposed that I moved to San Francisco only three months later, I said yes, too happy to escape my problems in Los Angeles. Of course, those problems would come back to bite me in the ass a couple years later but at that time, it was only Griffin who bit me in the ass and I was in a bliss.

As any relationship, we had our ups and downs throughout the months and then the years, but Griffin was constantly making me feel like I could be myself around him. He was a very laid-back guy, patient, cool, when I was a nervous wreck sometimes.

I thought that Griffin was exactly what I needed, especially after the chaotic year that I had spent with Will.

Oh, Will.

Maybe this is about time that I talk to you about him as well and how I ended up in this freaking prison.

As a proof that I was not meant to be a therapist, Will was one of my very first patients and I fell right into his trap.

He was seeing me as part of a sentence pronounced by a judge some years ago. Will had had some issues with the authority all his life and he had been involved in several misdemeanours during his youth, nothing too serious, essentially fighting with vigils to get into clubs and he was accustomed to talk back to the police, his judges or prosecutors.

The official reason of his appointment was to work on his anger issues and help him deal with authority. Ironically, I warned him that if he were to follow down the path he was on, he would surely end up in prison… I was one to talk!

By the end of our first session, I was very surprised. I was expected a bad boy, confused and rude, but Will was well-educated, smart and, I have to say, charming. He had a few tattoos and a nose piercing, a ring, I was not a fan usually but I thought it looked good on him. He had beautiful green eyes and a juvenile smile.

He sure did not care much for following the rules, but Will had his morals and his code. He also was bisexual and he mentioned that very naturally, either talking about his ex-girlfriend or his ex-boyfriend during our sessions.

Guys who are forced to see a therapist are usually closed off and the sessions are often pretty useless but it was not the case at all with Will, he was talkative and almost seemed eager to share his life with me.

About thirty minutes in, he was already talking about the daddy he had fucked a couple days before and how it reminded him of his own awful father. Quite genuinely, he asked if I thought he had turned bisexual because of his father issues. I asked him if he considered this as an issue, being bi, and he just told me no.

I could tell myself stories about how Will slowly seduced me but to be frank, I was acting unprofessionally from the start. He came in wearing a tank top and some shorts and I am pretty sure that I stared at his biceps for the whole hour.

I showed interests in his tattoos, I wanted to start our sessions with candid topics, the patient needed to feel like he was in a safe place. But my interest was also more personal, his muscular right arm was covered with anime’s characters and symbols and I had always been a fan of manga.

After flexing his biceps to show me a tattoo from the universe of Garuto, he lifted off his tank top to show me his Christian cross tattoo on his lower abs and even slid down his shorts – he was going commando and I got to see his pubes and the outline of his dick – to show me the entire drawing.

I was hard but I pretended not to be phased. His dick was right there, besides the cross, underneath these loose shorts.

He did not show his ass to me, at least not during the first session, but he said jokingly:

“I also got a tat’ on my ass, if you care.”

I smiled politely and moved on to another subject.

I could still lie to myself. Someone’s tattoos could tell a lot about his personality so this interaction was in the scope of my due diligence, in the context of an introduction with a new patient. Sure, letting him lift off his shirt was a bit much but that happened quickly. What else could have I done? It would have been stupid to yell at him.

I thought I knew the lines I would not cross. I was dumb.

Quickly, sex became was one of the main topics of our sessions. I was curious. He was happy to share. He told me about his kinks, his porn habits, his one-night stands – he did not really have a type, when he was horny and felt something, he would just come at the other person and most likely, that person would not resist him. Married women, so-called straight guys, one time, he said, he fucked a priest.

I was playing with that. He would soon become my favourite patient. Who would he have fucked that week? Should I ask him more about that priest’s encounter on the pretence that maybe the place where they chose to have sex meant something deeper?

But after a while, he was the one playing with the line. I could tell he would tell me stuff to excite me on purpose. Were his stories even true or did he just want to turn me on? Either way, I did not stop him.

“Hey doc, should I tell you all about this guy I fucked yesterday? It was a bit naughty, but I can tell everything to my shrink, right?”

“Sure, you can tell me.”

“Well, we had sex, the usual, I fucked him hard but we were caught. By his father. My dick deep in his ass. Is that ok that I was even more turned on?”

I tried to keep my cool.

“We both know at this point that what seems to give you the most joy is the feeling of adrenaline, of breaking the rules, so I can’t say this is surprising. Although, we could search for other ways to get you content, healthier ways.”

“Yeah… I guess. I know we’re here to talk about me and fix me, but I wonder. What do you think of the father who watched us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he stayed and watch me fuck his son. I did not stop but he did not make me stop. He just stayed there.”

“Did he… Did he seem aroused?”

“I bet he was but he did not jack off if that’s your question, doc.”

I smiled.

“And what about his son?”

“He had my big dick deep inside his guts, you better imagine he was very happy, his dad watching or not.”

He laughed.

At this point, I should have referred him to another therapist. I knew this was not ok but what was the harm? Will did not have any life threatening or real medical issues, he had been convicted for minor offenses only, he was making progresses in his life, working for a new job as a barman.

Every week, he seemed better and better and he thanked me for that, he said at multiple occasions that I was helping him. After all, intimacy and sex are a big part of what’s going on in our brains and an issue we sure needed to tackle during therapy.

in the end, I was talking to him as if he was a friend who I was just helping making sense of his thoughts. Just like you would do with some mates you would meet after work.

That was my big mistake, he was not a friend, he was a patient.

As the sessions progressed, my addictions from his dirty stories became more and more obvious and things got less and less professional. After a couple of months, we both knew our sessions had nothing to do with helping him work on his mental health. It was just about sharing raunchy sex stories.

Will would walk in, sit down on the couch, spread his legs and expose his armpits. He would tell me all about the kinky things running through his mind. I was hard pretty much the whole time and I had to jerk off after every hour spent with him.

“Doc, I’m not sure this is ok but lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about trying bondage with my sexual partners, what do you think it means?”

I played pretend, as if it was a genuine question. I made stupid metaphors on being stuck, trapped in our lives. But he asked me another question.

“I also have fantasies about fucking my shrink, is that ok?”

My heart skipped a bit.

“Will, I don’t think this is really appropriate.”

I replied, in a ridiculous attempt of putting some boundaries. As if it was not way too late already!

He spread his legs even more, Janice would have put him down for obvious “manspreading” but I loved it, he said:

“Not appropriate to think it or not appropriate to tell it to you?”

“There is nothing which is not appropriate to think, Will. But I would say that sharing this kind of fantasy while talking to your therapist might be inappropriate.”

“So, I should lie to you?”

“No, you should not. We discussed this, it is a safe space, feel free to express everything you want. I am just pointing out that if you were to, let’s say, make sexual allusions towards me, I would have to defer you to a colleague of mine.”

“Maybe I should shut up then, I don’t want to see another shrink. You’re the best at figuring out what’s in my mind.”

I smiled. It was pure flattery to get me on his side, but it worked.

I moved the subject towards his parents again, especially his father and we had a rather normal session after that. Thankfully, I was hidden behind my desk because I had cummed a little in my pants.

When he came in the following week, I had been thinking about him non-stop. There was no faking it anymore, I had a crush on my patient, and he loved to play with the effect he had on me. I had made up my mind that I needed to put a stop to it.

I should have done it way before that. Better late than never.

When he walked in, I was ready to tell him it would be our last session but he did not give me the chance.

“Look doc, I’ve been thinking. You’re good at your job but if having you as my shrink prevent me from fucking you, I believe I would rather let go of my shrink and take the good fuck.” He marked a pause. “I can tell you would be good at it and I can assure you, you would like that.”

Fuck, had I been that obvious about my feelings towards him?

His confidence was killing me. The fact that his nipples were showing under his tank top was not helping. I did not say a word, I jumped on him and French kissed the hell of his felon’s mouth.

We literally had sex on my desk, he fucked my ass while I was lying down on my desk and he put his hand on my mouth so I would not moan too loudly. I had other patients in the waiting room next door.

It was so sudden that I did not even take my clothes off, my pants were slid down at my ankles and my shirt was semi opened. He, on the other end, stripped down while fucking me to get entirely naked. He looked so fucking good, he was 23 at the time, was sporting a buzzcut and his body was perfect. His dick was big too, uncut as I like it. He knew how to use it.

As I was still recovering from being fucked on my desk, he turned around with a cheeky smile.

“It’s time you see my big snake now!”

He was talking about the one on his ass, an impressive tattoo. The kinky bastard, he even made me lick it. Probably one of his usual moves, making his partner lick the snake on his ass and then, the even bigger snake moving under his pants.

He was very dominant. I was still wearing my clothes and still confused about what was happening, he held me down and exploded on my face. I cummed at the same time. He nodded yes as if he was giving me his approval. My face was covered with his juice.

No need to say it my dear reader, removing my license to practice was probably the smartest thing a judge could do…

Weirdly, we started dating after that, well, somehow. He was no longer my patient and we would see each other regularly. We were not exclusive though, I knew he was fucking guys and girls on the side but as we were getting closer, I was also getting jealous.

I was falling in love I guess, not the first time I was acting stupidly in regards to my feelings.

I denied it in front of the judge, I pretended to be a naïve victim, but quite early on, I knew that Will was involved in illegal activities. He was meeting with shady guys, he would carry tons of cash on him, he would also ask me to pick him up from random places. I would go, in the hope we would have sex. And we would actually. Often, right in the car, or at his place, a quite fancy apartment near Santa Monica.

There were guns in his flat, I ignored them. His dick was just too delicious, the sex too fucking good.

And he liked me, at least, I thought so. He would fuck other people but I had a special place in his heart. Still today, I am convinced this was real for him too.

There was something happening every time our lips would meet, our hands would touch, our bodies would collide. So, I did not ask any question. I did not burst the bubble. I accepted that he used one of my bank accounts to transfer some money. Just two thousand dollars, no big deal, I thought. He thanked me by letting me fuck him in the ass for the first time. This was awesome. I cummed on his snake.

One day, he called me crying. And the buttle crumbled.

“Babe, help me…” He mumbled over the phone.

“What’s going on, Will? You’re worrying me, your voice sounds weird.”

“Some guys came at me, fucking assholes.”

“Where are you?”

“I can send you the address, I’m at Venice Beach.”

“Are you ok?”

“They broke some of my teeth.”

“Jesus, Will! What did they want? We have to call the police.”

“The police! Are you serious? Ty! The police would arrest me, don’t you realize that?”

Fuck, maybe I was very naïve. It finally hit me; I was dating a criminal.

“Please, can you just come pick me up. I need a place to sleep too. I cannot go back to my place.”

“What happens to your apartment?”

“Long story… Can you just come?”

Of course, I went. And I took care of him. He had a black eye (the next day was even worse), he was missing a tooth and he had bruises on his fingers. He had punched someone, multiple people maybe. I helped him shower. He stayed with me for an entire week, often, he seemed scared. He started to get paranoid about people following him or following me.

“I feel safe with you.” He told me.

I could not say it back.

Things only went downhill from this point; I could no longer ignore that I was dating a drug dealer and it was messing up with my life. I had troubled focusing on my patients, I would barely get to see my friends or my family.

As often in my life, it was Janice who confronted me about it and who helped me realize how far I had gone. She was right when she told me that I would lose my licence to practice, she did not think I could go to prison though, she was mostly afraid that I would end up getting hurt.

Janice said something which stuck with me.

“Are you happy, Ty? I know you have feelings for this guy but does he make you happy?”

I was not happy. I was stressed out, all the time.

I wanted to give Will a chance. I gave him an ultimatum. The worst thing you can do. As a therapist, I already knew that, but as a man in love, I had lost all notion of good sense. I asked him to choose between what he was still calling his “business” and me. We had an argument, it lasted for hours. He felt betrayed and he left my place.

A couple days later, he came back, he told me he had thought it through. He chose me. I believed him. There was no reason to, I just wanted this to work so bad. But it was already over. Things were tense and as I was ready to move and start a life somewhere else with him, he just could not make up his mind.

One week later, he was involved in a shooting and a young guy was sent to the hospital. This was the finale nail in the coffin.

When he came back and apologized, I kicked him out of my place. He cried a lot. He smashed the walls. I was not afraid for me though; he had never shown the slightest sign of violence towards me (except when I would specifically require him to spank me or choke me in bed.) He even held on to my legs at some point. Like a dog, he could not let go.

But I was done.

I had fallen for a confident charming man and I ended up with a wreck. I tried to help him but I was probably a wreck too. Things would have never worked out.

We saw each other a couple times after that so he could get his stuff back but he was accompanied by a blond girl. One of the girls he was fucking on the side. She had become his new number one. Good. Otherwise, I would have probably fallen back into our old patterns.

I may not have been a good therapist but I was smart enough to at least understand that I had ended up in a toxic relationship.

When the police pressed charges against me a couple of years later, I had almost forgotten all about the messy parts of my relationship with Will, all I could remember was the passion and the insane sex. During the trial, they would not tell me what had happened to Will and I did not want to ask too many questions.

For a few months, I was mad at him, furious even. I wanted to track him, find him, yell at him. I thought he was the one responsible for getting me there, in this awful mess. It was all his fault. I wanted to say that to his face. I wanted to tell him that I was a respectable man, engaged, happy and that he had screwed me over!

I realized now that I was only mad at myself.

I had to learn to own up to my shit. And the truth was, I had made shady decisions, I had done illegal stuff, and I was fully aware of what I was doing.

I could view Will or the other inmates I was locked up with as “criminals”, “felons”, people with poor judgement, but I was definitely one of them. I did not get locked up in prison by chance. There was no injustice.

I did bad things for the thrill of it, for some sex, for some adrenaline and I was paying the price.

As I was still lying down on my thin and uncomfortable mattress, Fernando’s dick in my sight, I thought about the two of them.

There was Griffin on one side, my fiancé. He represented peace, stability, comfort. Griffin was safe. He was the good decision.

There was Will on the other side. He represented chaos, passion, messiness. Will was the bad decision.

And I realized that most of us are either a Griffin or a Will. Either we play it safe or go with passion. Maybe we are born like that.

For the longest time, I was convinced that I was a “Griffin”, longing for a peaceful life. It made sense, I was a nerd, lacking confidence, a bit awkward, not the type of persons you would picture doing crazy stuff or ending up in prison.

But maybe I was wrong. Maybe, I had always been a “Will”, finding myself in chaotic and dreadful situations just because I could not help myself from following my impulses.

Surely, the rest of the story that I am about to tell you will confirm this theory.

When Kurtis passed by and asked me if I wanted to train with him the next day, I still said yes.