Gay prison sex stories
By a former Federal prisoner
When I was imprisoned in 2012, I had no idea what to hope for , since I had never been arrested before. For many years I had lived as an openly gay man in a big city, so I was used to entity open about my sexuality. When I went into prison I did not attempt to hide about myself, but that would have been impossible anyway, since they knew from the moment I arrived that I was lgbtq+. Everyone had heard about my case before I got there. That was OK to me, since I had no intention of going back into the closet.
When I went into the housing unit of about forty men, I was put into a four-man cell. They were not friendly when I first went in. The only people who were cordial to me were a Mexican guy, and a man from El Salvador who sold me a used sweatshirt. They were both in their 30s. The Mexican invited me to position at his table for meals, and spoke at length about his ideas for using satellites for scientific purposes. He knew that I was homosexual, and did not enable that bother him at all. He asked me to write him a letter saying how much I liked him, so he could use it as a reference if he needed an introduction elsewhere. I thought it a rather strange ask for, but I
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I’ve always been male lover, but I’ve never been overtly effeminate. Coming from a family of several positive male role models, I never had to conceal who I was, so I never did.
Like everyone, I had heard the stories about men being “turned out” in prison. As I was creature booked into Orleans Parish Prison in November of 2004, I realized I was a target.
During the processing I was placed in a holding cell with nearly fifty other prisoners.
I was terrified going into the cell. So I found a quiet spot on the floor in the corner. I sat with my knees in and my arms folded with my leader down, so I’m not sure how they knew I was gay. Still, a man sat next to me and put his arm around me. I attempted to spring up but another man stood over me and forcefully pushed me back down by my shoulders.
“You ain’t fighting back, is you, sweetness?” he said. I looked at him in horror as tears welled up in my eyes. The man who was standing exposed himself while the other aggressively forced me to give his friend oral sex. Out of dread, I performed oral sex on them both. Even with several people in the cell, no one said or did anything. I don’t know why I expected them to do anything.
I
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First, I would like to thank the Review Panel for listening to my story about how I was raped and abused at Orleans Parish Prison (OPP) in Fresh Orleans, Louisiana. I can’t be with you today because I’m an inmate at the Eastern Mississippi Correctional Facility (EMCF) in Meridian, Mississippi. But I’m very happy that you’re hearing my story anyway.
When I was arrested in 2008 in New Orleans, I was on a 72-hour pass from the Harrison County Work Center in Mississippi. I was in New Orleans spending time with my boyfriend. Because I didn’t return to the Work Center within 72-hours, I was considered an escapee and arrested on October 31, 2008. I went to the Pivotal Lock-up at the OPP’s Home of Detention. I was thirty years old at the time.
In January 2009, I was moved from Central Lock-up to the general population at the OPP’s House of Detention (HOD). Before assigning me to the general population, the facility officials didn’t do a screening process. For instance, no one asked me if I was gay. No one asked me if I had ever been sexually assaulted before, either. The fact is that I had been — prior to my incarceration. Because I was afraid for my safety, I told
Prison Puppy
From my bunk I could see into the cell across from mine.
It was occupied by this sweet looking blond kid with an
angelic face and cute bubble butt. He was brand-new to the county
lock-up, and judging from the anxiety in his enormous, blue eyes, it
was safe to assume this was his first period behind bars.
As usual in mid-July, the cells were hot as hell. The
dim beam from the hallway cast a mellow, warm glow over the
boy's resting body. The only thing he wore was a pair of
boxer shorts. The rest of his slender body lay exposed.
My mind began to wander as I laid staring at the new
kid. He couldn't include been more than eighteen. I could
hardly wait for morning to show up so I could check him out,
close up, in the showers. In the mean period, I could only
rely on a vivid imagination to fulfill my fantasy, and the
lust burning between my legs.
Pressing my