Sometimes things that place us in turmoil are the very things we want people to love and embrace...
I have been in the place to accept the shame and slimy shyt I have done in my life. I am not proud of who I am or what I have done. But I do not think that there is anyone on the outside that would understand. Only those that have shared my plight. And I had no idea that my past that I so have tried to run from. Would stand in the way of me being and doing what my mind and heart wanted it to do. It was the lust that I felt when I saw them. Jeremy J. St. John. Me.

I grew up in a cool home life. Nothing to me out of the ordinary. My family had arguments, we laughed, got frustrated. Family get tog ethers, the whole nine. My family encouraged me and my sister to go to college. I took a year off to work and play before I had to throw myself in books. And to be honest with you. I am not a school person. School was the last thing I really wanted to do. But I knew that if I didn’t my parents would pitch a bytch!

So I went to college. I had to make myself study hard the first year and a half. I partied hard, and I paid for it. But I knew that if I didn’t get good grades, I was not going to hear the end of it. Later I had started to really like school. After doing all my basic classes, I then decided that I would go for engineering! What a stretch right? I don’t know, I just met some real cool people. And learned some new and different things. I was twenty-five when I graduated with my Masters. And my parents were not happier. And I was very proud of myself. I had took on an internship, I did volunteer work to make my resume look good. So then when I did apply for that almost six-figure job. I could demand my salary.

It was the hardest on me the first year. I worked in the late afternoons at a shady call center doing sales. But I made money! Real good money. What I had found out about myself was, I had to be the best at what I did. I was a true competitor. I still had my parents help. I was also very active with the fraternity I had joined while in college. I had quickly made it through the ranks as the head big brother.

It was the day I will never forget for the rest of my life. And this is where my story starts…..



I went to school with this dude named Devin. Devin was a cool laid back guy. Never in the mix of too much, but he was one of those well known guys and very popular where ever we went. Devin knew at least three people there.

Devin had called me and told me some guys was trying to hurt him. Well, me being who I am I asked Devin what did he want me to do. And he said just asked me to watch and have his back if we hung out, or he gave me a call. But of course I told Devin he needed to hang back as well. It was not difficult to find Devin; he hung out at all the top ten lounges, clubs, restaurants, coffeehouses, stores. He was that guy.

Devin laid low for about three weeks. It was Friday, January 23rd 1995. I had called Devin and asked him if he wanted to play some poker. I was going to call a few of the guys to come over. Get drunk, puff expensive cigars, talk shyt. Win some money, lose some money. Bring some snacks, do some take out. And maybe, just maybe we would have a few strippers come through. Guy shyt.

Devin was down for it, and since I was bringing some of the snacks and a bottle of alcohol. I decided to swing by the Trader Joes and Liquor Mart by Devin’s house. I figured we could shoot the shyt and have a drink or two before the other guys had gotten there.

I had arrived at Devin’s house at 8:22 p.m. exactly. And how I know was because when I turned my ignition off on my car I looked directly at the clock. I was always a person who kept up with what time it was. I was funny that way. If I got a phone call, got up in the middle of the night. Right when I woke up, when I got on and off the phone. Those are the actual things that make me look at some form of time piece. Mostly my cell phone.

As I got out of the car and grabbed the bags from the car seat,I walked and rang Devin’s doorbell. As soon as I got into the house, someone had jumped me from the back. Here we were, from what I had later saw getting jumped by four men! Devin and I were so caught off guard and that was the point. It was maybe in the first five minutes they all were beating are azzes! But it was when I had saw the folding chairs that were at the table that I had grabbed one and had started to beat and hit the men with it. Devin had grabbed one as well. We went to wailing on all of them! However, one of the guys had managed to hit me from the back. And he knocked me to the floor and I saw stars. As I fell to the floor Devin tried to hold it down by swinging the chair he had in is hands. But these were some huge corn fed guys! And they had got the best of us in the end.

We were laid out on the floor holding what hurt  us the most. We were beating to a pulp! I knew my face was swollen and my nose was bleeding. My right eye was closed shut,I could hardly move. I knew that my ribs had to be broken or cracked, because when I tried to get up my left side brought me the most pain. Devin looked like straight stir fry shyt! I could just imagine what I looked like.

The house was a wreck! It looked as if a tornado and cyclone had hit it! When I looked up at the clock Devin had on the wall it was 8:45 p.m.

Of course our boys took us to the hospital we knew, I knew what this azz whipping was. It was the azz whipping promised to Devin. Which I later found out down the line Devin was in real deep with this dude for $500,000! We told everybody we had got robbed. But we never called the police to report it. As much as I wanted to I knew that it would make no sense. These dudes would come back looking for Devin. And my azz just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. But this was not over. Not by a long shot!

It took me about three and a half months before my body was completely healed. And everyday I was at home  every time I thought about the pain I had endured. The embarrassment and Devin not telling me the truth. Saying that it was some guy hating on him because he had money and women. I bought in to it because he did have a lot of haters around him and very few friends.

I had finally gotten Devin to tell me everything. Who was it that he owed the money to and where he lived. Devin had given the guy Terry half of the money when he had gotten out of the hospital. The man had came to the hospital and threatened Devin a few times. And that had him scared and me too. Because this dude Terry told Devin he knew where I stayed and I was in it too, he would come and kill the both of us if he didn’t get his money. Now I was angry for a long time with my boy Devin. But this to me was no longer about Devin. It was about Terry sending his body guards, flunkies, goons, whatever you want to call it over to Devin’s house. Knowing I am sure what he looked like and me getting beaten to no ends. And then a bounty has been placed upon my head if Devin didn’t pay the money back. I was on another mission and Devin had money, but not that kind of money. And there was no way in hell he was going to come up with another $250,000 plus the interest which brought it back up to $500,000! This man had to die!



When I told Devin that I was going to kill this dude Terry he thought I was crazy! There was nothing about me or my persona that said killer, murderer, thief, or any of that shyt! But not only was my pride and ego effected by all of this. I had to lay up and heal and couldn’t work. I had to lay in my bed and think how I got my azz beat over and over. And the threat that was made upon my life. How did I get in the mix of Devin’s shyt? Why would I be killed if he didn’t pay the money back? And from what Devin had told me, this dude was no joke. If anything he was a man of his word. He would be back to kill us. So I had to get him first!!! No lie.

With or without Devin I was doing it. Devin was a scary azz anyways. But when he was getting trash dumped by his front door with threatening letters, morticians calling his house, constant threats on his life. He was then down. I wasn’t now getting those threats and I was getting phone calls. And I had changed my number twice. And this Terry was getting the new number each time. I see that he had some connections and power. I did too. I knew some seedy underhanded people. So I utilized them to find Terry and give me as much info on him as they could. This was getting more and more personal as they days worn on. All I could think of was killing this man!

April 23, 1995 Saturday morning 3:00 a.m. I had my chance. I watched as Terry pulled up in his driveway with a female on the passenger side. He was drunk and so was she. They both were staggering to the front door of his home. My heart was beating fast, my pulse was jumping all over the place in my body. And I couldn’t see myself going in there and killing him in front of a witness. And she did nothing to me I was thinking straight a little bit. She was a woman and it would be like killing my mom! And I was impatient at this point I wanted to get in there and kill this scum azz for what he had done to me. I didn’t know what to do until my big break had come through!

About thirty minutes of me sitting in the car the front door flies open. He is pushing the woman out of the front door with no clothes on and beating her! I jump out of the car and run to the front door to help her. One thing I didn’t like was for any man to beat on a woman! I do not care what she said or done. She is still the weaker sex. When I ran up I had my gun in my pocket. The fight had went from her to me. She was screaming and hollering, which notified the neighbors. When I saw blood coming from her face I saw red with him.

Terry had managed to push me off the steps onto the landing of his driveway. We were at first about five feet from the ground. It was when I hit my head falling backwards on the concrete that he had me. Banging my head on the concrete. Now there are neighbors screaming and hollering. One was bold enough to try and stop the fight. But Terry some how had managed to punch him in the face. All of the men were cowards. I had managed to get in my pocket and just like that when I got a hold of my gun. I shot him in the stomach. Devin fell on top of me while all the neighbors who were watching were in shock. But I came and did what I came to do. And that was to kill a man who was heartless and had put a hit out on me. I was breathing hard there was no need in me running from what was in store for me. To many witnesses. And I was tired as hell. Just as I was about to push Terry off of me, The cops jumped out of the car and had drawn their guns on me. I not only had Terry’s blood all over me, but I was bleeding profusely from the head .




My day in court was a media circus! I had killed a man in the hills of the rich and famous for one. I had also killed a man who was known for the good and the bad he had done in the community. Many people in his neighborhood had wanted him out. His neighbors were apart of my defense. There were many who were lined up that were willing to testify on my behalf. Did I forget to mention that he lived? Now it was to be self defense on my part. How I had told my story was that I was leaving a friends house that lived down the street. Just so happened that there was a very good friend that had my back. She knew about Terry very well, and despised him whole heartedly. He and her had dated a long time ago and the threats and abuse she had received from him was enough for her to side with me. Matter fact it was Tambra who told me where he had lived. And the fact that her and I dated and I treated her like a woman should be treated. We just didn’t work out because of her schedule and mines. But we would sneak off and have overpowering sex with one another. Of course it would not seem right that I was driving down the street and looking for Terry.

Since my gun was registered that saved me. And with the incident that had happened and me seeing all that had happened.  And hearing all the backlash coming from Terry, that was not held against me. My court date was set for June 16, 1995. This picture was painted as me being the Robin Hood if you will helping the damsel in distress. However, because I was being charged with Aggravated assault with a weapon and brandishing a fire arm. And the list went on from the prosecuting attorney of Terry’s. This was no joke at all! I could very well do some time my attorney told me. He said I had a very good case. However…..

It was 4:00 p.m. and my sentence was handed down. As the juror had read the counts down I was found not guilty on many of them. However I was guilty in aggravated assault with a weapon. And I was giving my sentence by the judge, I was to serve my sentence consecutively. And I didn’t understand what was going on it was all going too fast. I looked at the clock and it was now 4:15. The judge gave me fifteen years but the sentence was actually five years. And I saw nothing and heard nothing after that.

I took off a $1,500 suit and traded it for a orange suit that probably cost $5 to make. My world came to a mad crazy halt! Where I was accustomed to being free working and an abiding citizen. My world came crashing down ! Now I would not be doing anything productive, have a record, black balled in society. This could not be happening! I worked hard to get here where I was in life!


Hell I didn’t know what to expect being in prison. I had heard stories, but just hearing the stories and having a knowledge of what goes on inside here was just not enough for me. This is something you would have to see and feel, go through if you will in order to understand the “law” of how the inmates live and dwell in the mouth of the beast that is unleashed.

I really didn’t want any contact with my outside world. But it was hard to say no it was hard to say don’t write, don’t come visit, and I will not call. But that shyt lasted for me about three weeks. One thing I did not do was have the beautiful lady I was seeing for the past year to come up here. I would not be able to take it. Period. I just asked her to write me at least three times a month. And that I would not call her she didn’t have to worry about no collect calls coming from here. However, it was my family; the family who knew me well who knew the circumstances that I remained in close contact with. They had my back, kept writing, drove up to visit, kept my books loaded with money. And I was afforded some privileges that “normal” people had on the outside. Which this also made me a marked man.

Never had I endured a place where I had to learn the ropes, rules, and the operation of anything in an extremely short time. I was accustomed to that corporate training and living. Where you would have three to four weeks and a handbook , instructors and other co-workers helping you out. Not here! I was thrown in the lions den without any meat. Thrown in the den like Daniel was and all I had was prayer. I could also see how brothers joined with particular sects and organizations in order to be protected.

My first night in prison I was awakened by a mans screams. These were not any ordinary screams, these were screams of a man who was in pain. And as I jumped and sat up in my bunk and paper thin mattress. My cell mate told me that he was getting robbed of his cherry. I knew what he was saying, but it was men that used that sort of terminology when it came to a woman. Patrick my cell mate I later found out was one of those men whom had had his cherry busted. He told me they taunted and harassed him every chance they had gotten. They had to break him down first mentally. And they did a good job.

The prisoner that was in the same cell was the one whom had told all his crew about this new prisoner that had just arrived. And his screams were deafening. And after he had gotten jumped in the yard that day. They had the audacity to put the man back in the cell with the man who had him jumped. For these lifers in here, It was nothing to kill or hurt another man and do a week in the hole. To them it was like their badge of honor, a trophy! I was wondering how could I get on the list for best prisoner behavior and have my time reduced. Because the judge told me because of my crime and all the circumstances surrounding my trial as well as having not even a speeding ticket. That I could get released early. Hell, I was still whirling from the verdict of doing time for what I considered self defense. Helping a damsel in distress. Well that is what I felt.

Patrick was used goods and open prey to all the inmates in here. He knew when a man wanted him, he knew he was a sexual toy in here. And just as all men I suppose that come in here; I was no punk! I was not going to be the bottom of the barrel, and I was not a sexual toy for any man!!!!! And I meant that from the bottom of my heart!

I learned real quick in here. I had five years in this bytch. And that was five too many to be getting all caught up with prison life. So one of the first things I did was get my head in some books. Had my parents sending me books. Psychology, philosophy, chemistry, biology, self-help books. I had to keep my head in that area. I wanted no pics of women, no magazines where you could see a sexy woman modeling the latest couture or designer label. That was tempting to me. I was waking up with a hard on every morning. And thinking of Sherry the last time her and I had made love. Which was to me at the time the best piece of azz I had ever gotten in my life. And as long as I had that vision and memory. I was hoping that that would suffice my longing for sex. But I was wrong.

I knew that I was being sized up in here. I had men laughing and looking at me when they walked by me, when we went and ate, or out on the yard. And I knew what it was and what it was all about. And I also knew Patrick was what I would call a little bytch. He was accustomed to being past around like some two dollar hoar. Patrick kept asking me what I was in for. Which I later found out was in the creed of you are not suppose to just go around and tell people what you are in here for. But I did; I had told Patrick some off the chain type shyt. I never told him how much time I got. That was no ones business as far as I was concerned. And I didn’t want to piss no man in here with the little bit of time I had gotten in here. And that I could be released early for good behavior. Hell I was trying to get out of the belly of the beast!

I had told Patrick because I had my degree in chemistry which was a lie. That I knew how to poison someone with something as simple as oregano and peppers. Which was a lie. But I told him that it was certain things you could mix it with and the reaction that went on inside of your body would in time kill you; seventy-hours to be exact. I told him that I had poisoned some people. But that is not why I was in here. I told him that I had got caught for murder. Which was very true. (in my head it was) But the twist I had put on it was, I had killed six people. Three with my bare hands because I had studied martial arts. Which was no lie; I had just not practiced or went to class in a year before coming here. And the other three I had shot and killed. Now the first thing I knew was, Patrick was going to go run and tell that information. He was Quincy Dee’s bytch at the moment. And Quincy was one of those dudes that was well respected and feared in here. And he was the top dawg I was trying to get next to. If I had him in my corner. no one would really fuk with me in here. I was going to be smart in here. And utilize everything I knew, read and that million dollar education I had was really going to be put to use in here. Well here I felt it was a million dollar education.

I first wanted men in here to fear me because of the skills I had in martial arts. Which a lot of men didn’t know nothing about in here. And that I was a corporate educated man up in here. No ordinary street hustler, gambler, gang member or any man from the streets. I knew guys from that genre, and was quite aware what went on in the streets. Hell we loved killing off our own people! And to me it was not a race or cultural thing it was just a creed of the street. Didn’t matter what color or race you were. You fukd up or did something to piss your click off that was a rap! Italians, Russians, Germans, blacks we all did it! We killed our own kind, our own people. And though I didn’t get down like that. Truth was, I killed a man because of the hate and revenge in my heart. Because of the scum he was and the scum shyt Devin was into. I was on the outside the innocent man who was belittled and had gotten entrapped.

I was well built because I ran and worked out on the outside. So I was in shape just no bulky looking dude like the rest in here were. And I didn’t want my body to look like that but I did work out. And most of my time was working on my PHD up in here. Fuk it! But I see that you can only go and do so much and get so far ahead in here. So this to was an illusion.

I told Patrick just a few lies. I didn’t want to overload him or me with too much info. Lies that I could not remember myself. So I was smart about it I went into my memory bank and gave real names and funny situations I had been in and had twisted the story up some. And believe me that shyt flew up in here like fire! I had to protect me up in here. I mean, when you see a man shanked and beaten to a pulp or death. That image is with you! And selling drugs, men, food, cigarettes was big business. And giving up azz to protect your azz from just being used and abused was another story. Which is what Patrick had done. He had explained to me that he was a straight man and he was doing what he had to up in here to survive. He ate good and it wasn’t that bad. I shook my head at how these walls and these men could place someone in that mental status. So I had to be real strong in all of this bullshyt!

My plan worked, Quincy had put me in his loop. And was a smart man just ignorant in certain areas. But he was eager to learn and that is how we had become close. He schooled me on the men in the prison and the latest male bashing incarcerated drama and warfare. And invited me to join up with his organization where I could pimp and prostitute men, sell drugs, cigs and whatever else. I played the supplier and what I mean by that is; I supplied the money for his crimes. And was even more respected by him for that. Telling him that's what he was into and I wasn’t. And I knew he had no one visiting him or giving him money while he was doing his second prison term of fifteen years. His first one was six years. He had always been in and out of jail most of his life and knew no other life. He was a smart dumb street hustler who kept getting caught up. Which made me believe he liked it in here. But he knew nothing better and that is when I had become very valuable to him. I helped him with his reading and math. I kept him in my back pocke giving him knowledge, but not too much to outsmart me.

Because of the care packages I had gotten from my parents I had money to burn. And my money would come back tripled when I gave it to Quincy. Which I had split with him, not because I was scared of him; I was being smart in this instant.


Things were going good I had done a year keeping my head clear and my slate clean. It was one day that Quincy had asked me had I had a bytch in here. I had of course told him I wasn’t gay and I had nothing against the men in here that went that way. But I was going to ride it out for the long haul. He told me that I could have Patrick he had gotten a new bytch he was seeing. And that he was real bad. To hear this type of language coming out of a mans mouth who stood 6’4 and maybe weighed 275 all muscle. I was astonished at how he looked at the men in here as women. And so to not offend him and the choices he has made. I had to be careful of my facial expressions and the words that came from my mouth. This man was serious! These were women to him! And he was turned on by them. Especially the new booties that came in here and sagged their pants from the azz’s . That was truly sexy! ( damn!) I couldn’t see it, and though I tried and I tried while he was talking to me about it. I could not grasp the concept of it all. These were men! Yes I got horny yes I wanted to have sex! Are you kidding me? I thought of it and it seemed all the time. And this is why I stayed busy reading and I was now cleaning offices and working in the library. The money I made I gave to Quincyand he was tripling my money. He felt he was even more the big dawg up in here. Which was his problem to begin with. The same behavior he exhibited in here was the same exact behavior he had on the outside of here that got him up in here.

Quincy had began to tell me stories of his prison stints. He had never been raped by another man, but he had to fight in the very beginning from guys who wanted to gang rape him. I am sitting up here thinking, why is it so damn important to have the azz of a man. To have a man “toss your salad” To get on top of a man and both humping each other until a orgasm is reached. Now one thing Quincy did say was he had never kissed a man. Well, one man, the man he had fallen in love with. And from how Quincy had described him to me. He was a “pretty bytch” He had long wavy hair, light green eyes, and olive skin. He was openly gay and had even began to develop breast. He wanted to be a woman. So Quincy said he had no problem with making sure he got his hormones while he was in prison. He loved seeing him transform into a woman. This was the only woman/man he had kissed. And the sex was great! Wow! I am just behooved hearing this man talk like this!

Now I knew what side my bread was buttered on. And if I said anything I  wrong I was going to offend this man. And my protection would be gone, and the money would be gone. I needed to stack money while I was incarcerated. My parents were holding me down with my house. I gave them power of attorney over my estate until I had gotten out of prison. And the interest from the marketing CD’s I had invested in would pay my mortgage and car insurance,  and my mortgage and car payments. But I wanted cash in my hands when I left here. And Quincy Dee was providing that. Even though I had to walk around with money taped on my body most of the time. I was not really tripping out, it was what it was. When Patrick was not in the cell I had begun to dig a small hole in the wall to stash my money. It was behind my bed.

I was getting sick listening to this man talk, but then the crazy thing about it was….I was getting turned on in a weird way. And I didn’t know where all this was coming from. I never looked at a man in any way sexual. And not having sex for a little over a year was getting to me. But I remained strong….I had too! That is until Quincy, who I now called Q told me I could have Patrick. He was a gift from him to me. Because I had looked out for him, talked to him, man to man with him. Helped him get more money, and he learned how to read better and I answered a lot of his questions. He felt I deserved a man as a gift. There was nothing else he could give me I suppose. I had money, food, clothes, CD’s, TV, and other amenities. Plus I had my parents sending Q care packages as well. Shoes, cologne and other products and food you could only get from the outside. So now this was his re-payment. And of course I had his protection.

I told Q thank you. And I appreciate everything he was doing for me. And that was no lie, I really did. But a man? A man? Like he was …..

I was a year and a half into my sentence. And time was going by slow and fast at the same time. I made sure that I was getting books and mags on all the new technology with phones, software delivered and sent to me. I had to know the latest music, fashion and everything. I kept myself educated with what was going on in the real world. I did not want to be in culture shock when I got out and stuck on stupid. It was my way of conditioning myself that I already lived on the outside. And that this was a vacation. But you do what you got to do to remain sane in here. I never got use to a man screaming….I never got use to a man dying from being beaten or jumped. And Q loved this type of barbaric behavior. It was like he entrenched the pain he was putting on others. He really didn’t want to be in here. But it was here that he had mad respect and love. It was in here that his destiny was chosen because of what he had gotten his self into on the outside. And I do not think that Q will ever come out of the penal system and be healed and be helped healed from the pain. If he was still living when he got out of here. He would be fifty-five, and that is a long time to be locked up! He was thirty-six, and this was most of his adult life. The part of life where you are enjoying it. Hanging with your family, friends, your lady, vacationing, laughing, driving. And as much as I missed those things. Focus was my main objective. And Q was making it harder by expressing his need for sex, the part of me that I was having a hard time dealing with. If my dick didn’t get hard in the morning, I would be okay.

It was 5:36 am Wednesday morning. And I was having the best of the best dream a man could ever have! I was getting felatio by my girl. And my moans seemed to have come to reality, because when I opened my eyes. There was Patrick giving me the best head job I had ever gotten in my life. And just as I was about to climax it took me away from the anger I had felt. And the boom from my voice, the moans of pleasure outweighed my anger. Here I was in the most precarious situation a man could ever be put in. I am talking a real man! Besides my shock of doing time, the shock of what I had done to kill a man. Which to be honest was not a bad thing. He was wanted and hated by many. But to be sleep and thinking in your dream you were getting oral sex from a woman and to actually wake up and a man is doing it to you was overwhelming!

When I had climaxed Patrick smiled. And a year and a half of pent up frustration and sexual desires were released to the 125th power! I was ashamed and surprised! Patrick went and quickly rinsed his mouth and washed his face. But not without letting me see that I had actually climaxed all over his face. I could not say anything to Patrick from the embarrassment of it all.

We were shortly awakened for breakfast. And I was not hungry so I stayed in my cell. Until it was time to go into the rec room. But I was not feeling that as well. I didn’t want to be seen in population. I couldn’t look into anyone’s face.

Patrick had come to me later and had told me that it was the moans he had been hearing from me in the past few weeks that had turned him on. And that he knew I was sexually deprived. He also knew that I was not going to ask for any sexual favors from him. And that Q had made it very clear “he” was to be my bytch. And no man was to try him at any cost. That whatever I wanted or needed he was to do it. Anything! Patrick was now turned out. And I do believe that when he got up out of here he would no longer want a woman. He was now twisted up in the love and needs and wants of a man. And their desires had become his own. It didn’t matter that he didn’t get treated with respect, that he was the one being used and tossed around like old shoes. He had gotten his feelings, he had gotten his highs, he knew how to enjoy sex with a man. Because he was always giving and not receiving.

I told Patrick that he needed to stay away from me. And that I was a straight man. And the more and more I thought of what he had done, I had gotten angrier and angrier. And Just as I was going to slam his face in the wall. I thought about it. I was what they called “a model prisoner” I was going to my parole hearing in six more months. And I wanted out of this hell hole. And kicking his azz would have me doing the full five years or even more. Doing time in the hole and having all of my “so-called” privileges taken away from me. And it was a daily walk for me to keep my sanity in here already. There were times when I wanted to be the beast that Q had become in here. I wanted to kick every mans azz who looked at me funny or said the wrong thing. But I knew that I couldn’t, and that is why there were the Q’s in here. And I could not go down that road.

As my hand was wrapped around Patrick’s neck about to choke him to his death. I saw the clock, it was 4:30 p.m. the same exact time it was when they had read my sentence. Patrick was trembling and begging me not to kill him. But I felt that at this time he was enjoying the abuse in his own sick way. It showed love. It showed that I cared. This was what he was use to in here. And now I had just became that man; that person for Patrick in a split second.

I eased back from Patrick and I apologized. Letting him know that I was truly not an animal. Though I felt like one at times. He understood  but as he talked and talked. I was entered into his world the other side of the game that I didn’t know about. His feelings and how he had gotten to be the person, the human, the man he was. When I looked at the clock it was now 7 straight up. Patrick told me that he was in here like most men. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time. He said that two of his boys worked at this huge meat factory. And he was trying to get in as an employee. The skills he had would allow him to come in directly to the office and not as a factory worker. He was an IT man at that time. And you had to know someone on the inside to get in, because that is how they really hired. Though Patrick had assured me those who worked in the factory made great money. It was like actually working for General Motors in Detroit. They had a union, were highly respected and had the crème de la crème benefit package. It wasn’t until that his buddies had come running out frantic and told him to start the car and push it out of there quick. Scared and overwhelmed he did just that. Not knowing that he had taken his two best friends that he grew up with had robbed the factory. He just saw their arms full.

As the police had soon found and followed them in a car chase. Patrick wanted to pull over. But it was his boys in the back that had guns up to his head telling him he had better not stop or he would die. So he led the police on a serious chase. Until they ran out of gas.

His buddies had assaulted two men by pistol whipping the two security guards. And another of them was shot to his death, And what they got was $5,000 and some meat. I shook my head. His time was dropped because of it being his first offense. This is not what he came to jail for. He was exonerated of the charges in second degree murder. But for some reason the judge nor jury did not believe that he drove that car unwillingly. And I seen the truth of it. There were no prints, pictures, video of Patrick in that factory, warehouse, freezer or offices. But again, he was the get away driver. Patrick had done two years so far in here. And he was coming close to his departure of this hell hole.

Patrick told me that when he came in here it was like throwing a man into war; in for the slaughter. No man can ever get accustomed to how you are talked to and treated. It is like cattle. He told me the solemn mood of the men and his. Like this was death; the last straw before you die is how he felt. How he had to be continuously checked by the guards, not enjoying the cavity search. And how they threw powder on him to sterilize him of all body lice. ( that I know he nor I didn’t have) To hear the doors and the keys doors shut open and closed. When they slide that door close, your doom and thoughts are what you are left with. And as he explained his feelings. I felt his pain and hurt.

I was more and more drawn into his story. And believe me you get drawn into people’s life stories here. You do not have anywhere to go nothing to do. So I have selected the few people I deal with in here. Q is enough testosterone and gangster street mentality I could deal with. His boys and the yard respected me. And that was all that was needed for me. The sad thing about prison is; you get no love, understanding, compassion, help, psychological help when and before you get out. This shyt is like coming home from the war. They don’t give a fuk about you. And this is why I kept my heads in all type of uplifting and informative informational books and the like. And Patrick did too, he was in computer technology. So he just read all the books over and over. And the same he did with the magazines. We had that in common. Though I would see Patrick in the library a lot I didn’t really talk to him that much. Well really not at all. And to be honest with you, I was glad that I was placed in a cell with him than some dude like Q. We just had day to day conversation, and when he saw me he nodded hey head in acknowledgement. But what I saw in Patrick was something deep, not only did I see a man raped of his manhood. I saw a man that had been raped of his dignity, his hopes and his life. And he was truly going to leave here with so much more than me. He was no longer a man. No matter how hard he tried, I felt he was now officially a gay man.

Patrick had told me that he badly wanted to cry. And at night he would cry holding his body and laying in his bunk. Thinking and torturing himself. Something I promised myself I would not and could not do. Every time I had those thoughts I quickly changed my thoughts. I had to; I had to keep my mental and emotions in check. But these hardcore men in here saw his weakness. And Q was the first one that put it out there. That Patrick would be his. Patrick shared his cell for almost a year. When Patrick explained to me that the guards knew what was going on but would turn their heads. Q had a lot of pull in here a lot more than I had been giving him credit for. I knew he had pull, but not the type of which Patrick was giving him. Patrick had told me that some of the guards were under “Q’s payroll” that he had hooked them up with a women, money, cars, and so many more things that he had access to on the outside. And I was sitting here thinking how did a man so smart and had so much want to keep coming here? He could of opened a business, and  been over a corporation! But I guess the streets called him more. And he loved crime, had to. I knew that I would and would not make sense of this place and the people who lived here worked here and were apart of this. And it was a very oxymoron place to be in my life. But it really didn’t matter how I saw it or what I thought of it. Because this was my life at the end and the beginning behind cement and brick walls.

Patrick said that the first few nights were okay; Q had assured him he would be alright with him. It seemed Q had always gotten the top pick of whom he wanted as a cellmate. This shyt and this story was getting deeper , crazier , and sicker by the moment. And sad for Patrick that he had believed Q. And Q was the one who had orchestrated his doom and fate from the beginning of it all.

Patrick said one day Q came up to him dropped his pants and told him to “suck it” Patrick of course denied him this pleasure. And was slapped to the concrete floor! Patrick thinking he could take down Q got up and then punched him dead in the mouth. Wrong thing to do. Now everyone knew there was a fight going on in Q’s cell. But the guards nor the inmates were to say anything. They knew what this was all about, Q was “breaking” his new cellmate in. I shook my head at hearing all of this. It was sad as hell and my heart broke hearing this man. This human being break down as he was telling me. You could see the pain as he was explaining his turn of events in his body language. Patrick went on to explain that he had gotten a few good hits in on his face. Gave him a bloody nose. But the work that Q had put in on his body was something not to be desired. And with a busted nose, mouth, black eyes, bruised ribs and a broken arm. It was then that Patrick was taught to be submissive. And was also taught how to please Q. And after it was all said and done Q being the man, the person, the human being he was. He still made Patrick suck his dik. Bloody, in pain, hurting pride, body and shame.

When Patrick came out of the infirmary he was placed right back in the cell with Q. And it was then that he realized that he had no choices here. Three months went by and all Patrick had to do was just give him head. And then it opened up for Patrick to “toss his salad” and after about six months Is when another fight broke out and Q beat his ass to a pulp for him struggling and not wanting to give up “azz” and when it was said and done. It was Patrick’s screams that had prevailed in the prison. Letting all the men in prison know Q was getting his first piece of azz from his cellmate. His new “girlfriend” And as Patrick explained how the men cheered and yelled and out for this type of torture. I could only imagine. And I quickly shuddered again. Patrick now spending his second trip to the infirmary. For the broken bones and the beating that was worse than the first one he had received. Not counting the fact he was sodimized and had to be stitched up. He was in pain and numbness of mind and feelings. This was no doubt the end of the line he must felt. any man. A mans penis did not belong in his azz. He spoke of how Q was a well endowed man.  And it took a month for Patrick to heal. All because Q wanted him to heal. And now he mentally was ready for giving up  “azz" or the "booty” or whatever. This does not mean that when he could not give it up. It stopped Patrick from pleasing Q in the other ways. Because he did.

Amazing how Patrick’s voice had started to change. To where it was okay that he had made his azz a home for Q. How he had now begin to enjoy the feelings. How he was now able to derive pleasure from Q. And how he was most happy that Q was now tossing his salad, and “allowing” Patrick to jack off while he was doing so. I had had enough! I was through! And I was mesmerized all at the same time.

Two months had gone by since Patrick had gave me oral stimulation, and I could not get my mind off of it. I wanted more, I wanted him to just do that and do that only! So I found myself in that place that I was loathing. And so it had begun. Patrick was now satisfying me with his oratory skills and I was enjoying it to the fullest.


Patrick had gotten out three weeks before I did. And I was sad and happy to see him go all at the same time. I was getting out in two more weeks. And they were the longest two weeks of my life. I had made money, Q and his boys made money. And I gave everything I had to Q. I wanted nothing of what I had here to go home with me. The memories would be enough! And it seemed as if our block was on lockdown for the past two weeks because of the fights and deaths that were occurring it seemed every other day. Beast in a cage lions ready to feast. And since I was the only person in my cell I was fine. I read, listened to music, and played solitaire. And I wrote letters; wrote my feelings. And wrote a letter to my girl back home. I was not ready to face her or any woman for that matter. Or so that is how I felt. But I knew that once out of here the first people I would see were my family and friends who had been on my side and were very instrumental in me getting out of here. As well as my boss who was at my hearing and wrote me here and there. There was a place for me and he saw me as not guilty. The media had said not guilty as well, I was defending a woman; or so they thought. But God knew, he knew what was in my heart, and what had truly happened. And that is why I was in here. I was not fooling him at all! And so it was my punishment to be.


I called no one when I left or told them my exact date. I had enough money to fly to New York. And that is what I did. I flew there I got a nice suite, that is after I had bought some clothes for that weekend. And I called up a girl I had messed around with here and there when I traveled to New York and she came to where I lived in California. She knew nothing of my past experience; the hell I went and saw the past two and a half years.

One thing for sure is the smell of prison life is a hard stench to wash off. And I was smelling it up my nose it seemed as if it were stuck in my nostrils. And not that I was this fru-fru type guy. But I went and had a pedicure, manicure, shave and haircut.  Bought all types of cologne and shower gels. I made sure that I had room service, my first real meal since I was free. And was I so ever grateful that the judge had given me time served! And that truly being a model citizen paid off! My mind was set and bent on getting out when my parole hearing had come up in exactly two years! I was not looking at another two and a half years here in hell. I prayed.

Food, sex, bathing, sleeping, shopping, breathing, walking, freedom, kissing and touching a real woman. Hearing her talk to me. Was a feeling I still can not explain of how it took me there! How appreciative it all really was. I treated myself and my girl Terry to the best and nothing but the best. I left the prison with close to twenty thousand in my pocket. That was all I wanted and needed. I again gave the rest to Q. Telling him I wished him the best in here. Here in the jungle deep. I gave him five thousand dollars. He knew I was rid of him and this place. There was no future for us. And he also knew I was not the one helping and assisting him form the outside. He was the big man in charge there.

When I landed back at L.A. I caught a cab looking like a “real” man. New look, new clothes, new energy, new life, new suitcases held my clothes. I was ready to get back to my life. And if I needed counseling I was going to take it. Because I knew that I would not be able to share any of my life behind prison bars to anyone I loved or knew. They all knew where I was.

I had caught a cab to my parents home they had the keys to my house. And we had to also release the power of attorney they had over my estate. When I arrived they all were so happy to see me. And it turned into a small family reunion. With my cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends coming by to eat. They all pitched in and bought food and all the trimmings for a bar-b-que. And no one would take no for an answer when I told them I didn’t need any money. What I ended up doing was giving it to my parents. Let them do whatever it was they wanted to do. They needed a vacation and I had $5,000 left. So I gave that to them as well.

The first few days all I did was sleep, eat and watch the news. I later re-arranged my furniture in my house. My mom kept my house spic and span while I was gone. Which I was grateful for. She had told me she had hired a maid service to keep it clean.

I wanted to make sure that I was ready for the world. And being locked up gives you so many ideas of what you would do if you were out. So once I had gotten out I had started to make a lot of things happen. I always admired the line of clothing that Sean Combs had out for men. And so now I was embarking on a fragrance line for men called “Jeopardy” Also a clothing line named after my father and his grandfather; The "John St James Collection." I was in touch with a lot of resources when I was in prison and I learned even more. Though I was in school there and could not take too many classes. I took what they let me take and learn. And I excelled! They were not going to make it easy or make it free.

I had learned a lot about merchandising, retail, wholesale, manufacturing. The list goes on and on, I had crammed so much in my head. But I had wrote people of course leaving them my home address. And my mother coming by the house and picking up my mail and re-sending it to me here. I had my parents help me with so much as well. I was going to do this and pay homage to some of the men that made clothes for men. Gucci, Ralph Lauren, Dolce & Gabanna. And the many others, I had applied for loans using my house as collateral. And I had already gained my business certification in prison. And by no means did it say it came from there which I was grateful for. It was time I met up with people to go ahead and get me a team together. A personal assistant, accountants, attorney’s. clothing designers. Business cards, my licensing! I was all over it.

I never went back and started to talk to my girl after I got out. I didn’t feel the same being with her. I felt that she would ask me what it was like and had I been with a man. Had I seen anything crazy. I didn’t want to lie to her. I wanted to be honest with her. However I did call her we went out a few times and she was now involved with a man who was good to her. And I was happy for her. I wouldn’t and didn’t want her to wait five years for me. So it was with great relief that we did not have to go there. She was enthused and ready to help me invest in my dream for my clothing line. I would always tell her that I wanted to do this whole heartedly one day. And she was always egging me on to do it. Melissa was the best girlfriend and lover a man could have.

I was dating. Calling a few chicks I messed around with from the past. We would go and hang out. Either end up at my place or theirs we end up in bed together. And it was then that I realized I would tell all the women I had been with how to suck me off. And it was the exact way Patrick had done it. And as much as I tried to erase these thoughts. They would always come to haunt me.

Patrick sucked my dik every morning until he left. He would get on top of me and we would grind on each other. I never fukd him in his azz. But I enjoyed the grinding and humping, I enjoyed him sucking me off, sucking and pinching my nipples. And so it is now that I feel I need to go and get help. Because this shyt is fukn with sex I am getting from a woman.





It was one of the days where I so just happened to be at home and not running the streets and laying up with some babe. It seemed the more and more I had sex with a woman. The further and further my thoughts left Patrick. I was doing well with my clothing line. I mean my personal assistant Taylor had been grinding. I also had a lot of help from my mom. She loved having something constructive to do in her retirement. And she was organized and very thorough,I loved how she could tackle anything! I had got some great designers, and they were fresh and ready to get out and do the damn thing. I always had a meeting and explained what I wanted. I could sketch and give them an idea. And they would add their own little twist and turns to it. Their vision, and these young kids was not playing around. They all meant business and so did I.

My mother had made more contacts and we were able to have some small fashion shows and invite private boutique buyers that sold only to high end clientele. The plan was indeed coming together and I was happy.

Actually I was laying in my bed up under four down pillows. Watching just about everything on TV. My mother bought me a 60” flat screen LCD for my room. She told me she knew I liked things like that. And I knew that this had to set her back. But I knew my mom loved me. And she wanted me to be happy and comfortable.

Nikki a real pretty lady I had really enjoyed being around. I was feeling her the most out of all the women. And she got most of my time. When she had down time and she wanted to see me, she would tease and say' that if the only way to see me was coming to help. Then she would be to my house in and hour. And so she was she was to me a real woman. And I liked that a lot about her. She demanded my attention and she gave up some of hers as well. She was going to stay the night last night, but she had plans to do something very early this morning. Nikki was a smooth operator and a busy lady as well. But we met eye to eye on so much. She was eccentric in bed she was exotic looking. She also spoke her mind and heart clearly.

I was going to lay in bed until she got here. She told me that she was bringing us lunch in bed. And that I was to stay in bed until she got there. I was feeling that so all I did was get up and take a shower. Put on some fresh pajama pants. My clothing line of course! Made coffee and went back in my room and climbed back in bed. It didn’t matter what time she would confirm her arrival. I was not going to eat and get full.

I heard the chimes of my door ringing in the air. So I grabbed my robe and went downstairs. When I looked out the peephole I saw a man. But I couldn’t recognize who he was. So of course I had asked who it was and imagine my surprise. Yeah, Patrick. I stood there it seems for like hours and time was just at a stand still. If that makes any sense at all. How in the hell did he find me? I mean it wasn’t like I gave him numbers or addresses in locating me. And here I am almost a year out of prison. And this man shows up right when I felt I had done my own therapy to release myself from the shame. Here it comes up and presents itself. And I instantly thought of what my parents use to tell me and my sister when we were young. What is done in the dark will soon come to light. Hmmmmm…and here was the light!

When I opened the door to my doom I did not know the man that was standing before me. It looked as if Patrick had been working out. He had color in his face and all those bags and dark circles had gone away. I no longer saw the hold of prison life on him. And he had on a Brook Brothers suit. I know their clothing oh too well. The brother was sharp. He had grown his facial hair in and had gone completely bald. The look fit him.

Patrick had extended his hand to me for me to shake. I went ahead and invited him in. Not sure really what to expect. And my main reason was how and why was he here. And how did he find me. Because I was in pure shock and surprise. And some explaining was indeed needed.

Patrick told me that he had seen an ad in GQ magazine with me modeling my clothing line. And he had done a little investigating of his own and wanted to look me up. He told me that he loved the line of clothes I had out and he saw big thingson the horizon for myself and my company. He told me that he was currently manager of the IT dept at Jacob's Bank downtown.  Patrick told me some strings were pulled and he got the job after he had completed a short course and took a a few test which he had passed earning 100%.  Which he stated wasn't hard because of all that studying he had done while he was away.

"I wanted to thank you for listening to me.  And I wanted to thank you for being an inspiration. he looked away, I have been in counseling since i got out and it has helped me out a lot.  I also go to church and do a lot of praying.  He laughed. If ever you need any computers in your office or you need my help to do the networking, it's all on me. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a card and handed it over to me.  No worries, no talk of past.  That is behind us.  If ever you want to come have lunch and hang out let me know."  And with that he shook my hand again and walked to my front door and then out of it.

Two years have gone by since Patricj came to my house and we never saw or spoke to each other again.....






In posting this, I am only shedding light to an epidemic that is raging here in the United states and in major cities. The thoughts and views expressed here are not to anger anyone but “show light” and it is what it is.

Because this story was brought to my attention, I have done and saw some things that I would like to share with you. Some things that I hope to open up your understanding to how men “real men” think and feel. Especially in the genre of which I am writing this. I believe that everyone has the “right” to express themselves rather we like it or not. What they say or how they say it. So Please be aware and open that the videos you are about to watch are mouth dropping. (surprising)

I do hope that you enjoy the energy the life that I have placed on these “real” people. Thank you. And this is in no regards to race, origin, culture. This is life and reality!!! And in no disrespect to anyone.



“Just Toy”

Written Expressions





B2C Jewels

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