I didn’t kiss him yet, but I didn’t walk away either. I thought about quitting more than once. Gay sex He described prison like a long, dull storm he’d weathered by reading, lifting weights, and staying quiet.“There’s a trick to surviving inside,” he said one afternoon, stirring sugar into his coffee. “I need to see you as the cop I own.”He crossed the room, his hand on my lower back, pushing me toward the bedroom. He came three times, each load hot and slick, coating my insides until it leaked out, pooling beneath me. He put his hand on my back, leading me to my car, his push firm and sure. He got in and rode home with me.In my home, I hung my jacket by the door. There are rules, spoken and unspoken, about fraternizing with former felons. You want people to see the uniform, not the man hiding under it.”I looked down but then stared into his eyes.Our hands brushed over a sugar packet. Loretta, the waitress, didn’t care who sat together as long as you tipped. You’re my property now. “Do you like control?”I didn’t answer.
