Damn! Was this whole town controlled by the mayor and the Morgans? My sorry ass was being dragged off to jail because I liked to sneak peeks of ladies' panties. Penny and Mrs. Morgan had made me pay ever since they found out what I was up to.
Now their husbands were busting my ass, and even the chief of police was in on it, too. I was too exhausted, disappointed and surprised to complain. Naked, blue balls with a floppy cock that just minutes before was about to penetrate two wives, I resigned myself to having been outwitted again.
One of the officers tossed me a blanket. At the station house I covered myself and was led passed the desks of police men and women and into the jail. I was tossed in a cell with two old men.
I sat on a bunk with my head in my hands. The blanket fell open revealing my still long dong hanging down over the edge of the thin mattress. I felt yet another pulse of cum as it emitted from my dick hole. The old men looked at it.
The blue balls were gonna cause pain if I didn't drain my crankcase. What the fuck? I lifted up my dick shaft and began to stroke it while the old men watched me. It had been a very hard day.
After anticipating getting to fuck Mrs. Morgan, then getting ass fucked by a machine, then seeing Penny's big tits again plus a pussy parade, I was way past having a quick trigger. I could tell this ejaculation would take some time and effort.
Pretty soon a guard saw me and stopped to watch. He motioned for one of the female guards, and she watched me, too. Who cares? I needed relief or else the accumulated buildup of cum would hurt every time my balls clanged together.
I had no slip juice, so I had to go about it the old fashioned way, with a firm grip and long strokes that pulled the skin up over my cock head then stretched it down as my fist descended the long pole. Enough cum was leaking to lubricate me a bit.
All I wanted to do was milk my dick. I didn't want to impress anyone with a fireworks show of spurting cum. So when I finally felt the surge inside me, I just stopped handling myself altogether, rested back on my elbows and watched the juice pulse out like a little pump was inside of me. The cum just kept coming. Pulse after pulse sent it up and out, just a few inches at a time, splat, splat, splat. Then the pulses ceased and a low volume but steady flow finally drained me.
The old cell mates said nothing but watched it all. Then they rolled over in their blankets and went to sleep. The guards tipped their caps.
Only then did they deliver my prison clothes.
The next morning I was allowed to shower and told that a hearing would be held that afternoon. But that morning I would be questioned by a police officer.
I was taken, in cuffs, to an interrogation room. I sat there alone. Then the door opened and in came a police women. She was dressed in civilian clothes, pants suit and sensible shoes, and had a short haircut. In her hand was a folder.
"Mr. Johnson," she began, "your file says you were arrested for trespassing and breaking and entering and malicious mischief." "What's the story?"
I looked at her and thought, "Yeah, right, like she's not in on all this, too?" I didn't have a chance, and I knew it. Besides, if things got ugly, no doubt Penny and the mayor would release my old videos of women spreading their legs and I'd be in even more trouble. Plus, not only did they have all the evidence, they had film of me getting forcible jerked off by Bubba and getting butt fucked by a machine. They had all the cards. All I had was a sore and pussy-starved pecker.
"I was set up," I told her. "It wasn't a crime. I was a guest. But what the hell, if they press charges how can I defend myself?"
"We've got witnesses who say you were caught intruding," she said. "They said you threatened to rape the women and undressed. We've got descriptions of your penis. Says here that you revealed an exceptionally large penis and threatened to break up a private party."
Then she closed the file folder and looked across the table, "Mr. Johnson, we're going to need to see the evidence." "If you cooperate, things will go much easier for you."
Who was I to resist? With my hands still cuffed, I had to wiggle and struggle to pull down the prison trousers and boxers.
She stared at my limp dick.
"Is that how it looked on the day of the crime?"
"There was no crime!" I shouted at her.
"Mr. Johnson, I'm just repeating what's in the report." "Settle down."
The brief exchange of anger had an effect on my dick. Maybe the irritation caused by yet another woman who had her way with me was making me get an erection. My cock clearly was growing.
"Put it up here on the table," she indicated.
I lifted my dick onto the top of the table but let my balls hang down. Touching myself and resenting this bitch's insinuation were causing the cock in front of her to grow bigger.
She touched it with her ball point pen just as a bead of cum appeared at the tip of my dick. The bead grew larger and then oozed onto the table top.
She reached for a ruler that was next to a stapler and three-hole punch and set the rule down alongside my pecker. It was at nine inches by then. Then ten. Finally eleven.
I was surprised that my cock would get hard under such conditions. The detective wasn't particularly attractive, but her questions made me want to fuck her like I wanted to fuck Penny and Mrs. Morgan to get back at them for what they'd done to me.
She noted in her notebook, "Suspect has eleven inch penis." Then she laid the ruler across my shaft, "And three inches in diameter."
"Thank you, Mr. Johnson. We'll take this information to the prosecutor and the judge and have a meeting with the plaintiffs. Sentencing guidelines for your crimes are five to ten years, but maybe a settlement can be reached.
She nodded to a window, and immediately two uniformed policemen entered and took me by the arms. I didn't have time to modestly put my dangling dong away as they hustled me out of the room and down the hallway past several female officers, and back to my cell.
Those poor old guys just stared at me again.
They let me rot there for three days before I finally saw an attorney. He was a state appointed public defender, and I didn't expect much in the way of Perry Mason quality.
"Hello, I'm Frank Stiles, and I'll be your advocate." "I've read your file." "Looks like an open and shut case unless you have something to say."
"Frank, do you really want to hear the whole story?" I asked.
"Try me," he answered.
So for the next forty five minutes I gave him every detail of my life in this crappy town. He didn't react or interrupt me.
"And you expect a jury to believe that?" he finally said. "The mayor, his wife, our public television organization all involved in a wild sex story?"
"Tell you what -- tomorrow I will meet with the plaintiffs and see what they want to do. Maybe we can work out something."
The next day, after the meeting between the parties, my lawyer met with me again.
"Mr. Johnson, I think we have an agreement that can greatly reduce your time in jail." "The other parties have agreed that if you plead guilty you will only serve six months, but on the condition that once a week you are to be released to do compensatory duties for the aggrieved parties."
He added, "The judge has reviewed and approved the plan."
I stared at him. Blinked. "Compensatory duties?" I repeated.
"Hell, I don't know. Mow their lawns? Paint their garages? Who knows? You'll be supervised at all times."
"Where do I sign?" I asked.
That was it. I was doomed but only for six months. I could survive.
A week passed and my cell door opened. Standing there was the female detective who had questioned me and measured me. "Mr. Johnson, today is your first day on the outside to comply with the terms of your sentence."
My hands were cuffed and I was led down the hall and out to an unmarked patrol car, still dressed in my prison issues.
As I suspected, the car parked at the mayor's home. The detective ushered me in through a back door and took me to an upstairs room. She used her cell phone to confirm that we were there.
It was the middle of the afternoon, and I could see out a window that lots of cars were parked in the front of the house. I could hear voices downstairs.
Unknown to me, but known to the detective, Mrs. Morgan had organized a fashion show party for about dozen of the other leading ladies of the town. A designer flew out the latest dresses in several sizes for the ladies to try on and model for each other. He also included a selection of lingerie.
To put on the garments, each woman used the bedroom next to the room where I was detained. The hallway door was ajar so I could catch a glimpse of them coming in and out.
There was a door between the rooms with a keyhole. I nodded my head toward the door and asked my faithful flatfoot, "Mind if I take a peek?"
She motioned that it was OK, "But don't get any ideas," she added.
I knelt down and peered through the old fashioned keyhole. A stranger I'd never met before was taking off her dress. She walked around in her girdle and big factory worker bra then put on a dress to model, lipped her shoes back on and left the room.
That was fun.
