The Cycle Ride Pt. 02

I pulled my cock out of my shorts, looking at Graham. Should we? I'd feel better, I was sure of that. Quickly, I pulled my shorts down while Graham tried to get me hard. It was working. Here we were, in the court, getting a blow job before we get dealt with.

As it happened, Graham had made me cum and had just swallowed my load as we heard the footsteps coming towards us. I quickly pulled up my shorts and sat down, looking innocent and trying to recover from an intense orgasm. At least I'd had a good orgasm, poor Graham has missed out this time.

We were led up the stairs and into the dock. I wasn't paying attention, I was looking round to see if there was anyone I knew. Thankfully there wasn't. We stood there, in the dock, looking like colourful clowns in our lycra. We were asked how we plead. Not much of a choice really. Guilty on all charges.

We got a lecture about our lewd and disgusting public behavior and how traumatized the two women who made the complaint were. I looked down at my feet. I didn't have anything else to say.

His lecture finished, the judge told us we were going to be remanded in custody pending sentence next week, after they obtained reports. I almost fainted. I looked at the duty solicitor for help. 'Get us bail,' I shouted over the court room to him. He did nothing. My God, a week in prison. Oh my God, a whole fucking week. My job, my wife, the neighbours. I wondered about the bikes, what would happen to them? Our clothes, we can't go to prison, wearing lycra.

We were handcuffed again and led to the van that would take us to prison. I wasn't allowed a phone call. I needed to speak to my wife. She would be frantic with worry not hearing from me. She'll report me missing to the police. Maybe I'll get to make a call from the prison. I sat in the van, in my tiny one man cell, and cried. For the first time in many years, I was crying. Fucking Graham, this was avoidable. All he had to do was keep his fucking eyes open. All this for a fucking blow job.

After a while, the van stopped and we were let out of our cells and stood in a compound. My God, we were at Her Majesty's Prison Edinburgh. My home city. I could hear the jeering coming from the cells. God, it's our clothes, they're jeering at us. Just wait until it gets round that we're in here because of a blow job. And Graham, he's completely shaved. We're dead meat.

We were led into the reception area. I asked for and was allowed to make a telephone call. I phoned my wife. While it was ringing, I wondered what I could possibly say to her. I'd had plenty time to think of really elaborate lies to explain my absence. There was no question that she'll find out eventually. Maybe I should just tell her the truth. Get it over with. She picked up the phone. I was silent. She kept repeating my name. Finally, I spoke. I just blurted out the whole sordid story, leaving nothing out and nothing to the imagination. I didn't want her finding out in the paper. I told her I was remanded for a week. I heard her crying and screaming over the phone. I kept repeating that I was sorry, that I wish I could make it go away. She hung up.

God, I wish I could have made it easier for her. I love her. All this mess, I've created it and all because I wanted sex with a man. Everything I've built up; destroyed in one moment of madness. She'll never forgive me, or forget the shame of it all. God, what a mess.

They processed each of the prisoners in turn. We got prison issue joggers and sweat shirt, gym shoes and other kit. Normally they let remand prisoners wear their own clothes but there was no way I was wearing what we had on. They took our lycra clothes, feeling them for any contraband. They stopped at my top and pulled out a small tube of lube that was in the stretch pocket on the back of the top. I forgot I had that. Fuck, we could have used that back in the police station cells, I thought to myself. My attempt at black humour didn't work, I was still feeling frightened and upset. They put the lube beside the rest of my possessions, not that I had many.

To my surprise, they put Graham and I together again. A two-man cell. I thought they would have separated us. That was good, we will need to watch each other's back. Easier if we're together. I wondered if we should ask for segregation, rule 43. We're going to need it sooner or later. I asked Graham what he thought. 'That's the nonce wing, sex offenders, even worse people than they are in here,' he replied. We should still be safer in segregation. We agreed to wait a bit, believing that if we asked for rule 43 we would get it quickly if we needed it.

I looked around the cell. We had a toilet, two small cupboards, a fold down desk and two chairs. There were two beds, one on either side and a window that let in some daylight. Lunch was in thirty minutes and they left us to sort out the prison issue kit we were given.

We were told to get in line for lunch, which was a horrible experience. Even though we no longer had the lycra clothes on, the other prisoners still seemed to recognize us. The whole canteen started jeering at us. Fuck, this isn't good. This was a scary bad experience.

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If you like this, let me know and I'll write more. After all, what could possibly happen to two skilled cock-suckers in a prison?