Copyright© 2005 by Carlos Malenkov

You can talk about the courtroom dramas on TV all you want. They're crap, I tell you, utter crap. Listen. I know a story that tops it all.

New York has this peculiar institution known as the Sanitation Court. That's where you report if you get a summons for littering or maybe if you're a contractor who's tried to sneak a couple of bags of renovation debris into the regular municipal trash pickup. And it's where young judges start their career, and where old judges end up when they're thrown on the trash heap. A sad place, and one best avoided, no doubt. Well, one day it was my turn to find out what goes on behind the scenes of this odd corner of the judicial edifice.

What's this? A ticket for putting improper items out to be collected? Oh, I get it, this is about those bags of wood scraps and plaster from renovating my apartment. Wait a minute! I had called Bulk Pickup to take care of that. Twice, damn it. Once to set up a special pickup and once more to confirm the appointment. It looks like the pickup wasn't made, in spite of all that. And now the friggin' sanitation cops are blaming me. Me!

"Your Honor, how can you just order me to pay the fine? The facts clearly demonstrate that I'm totally innocent of violating any municipal ordinance."

"Allow me to explain how the system works, citizen. The Sanitation Court isn't about justice, either in the abstract sense or the particular. It's about collecting fines. It's about helping you do your part toward meeting the city's budget deficit. That's all. So, why don't you just be a good boy and trot out that door behind you and pay what you owe at the clerk's window downstairs. Or, if you prefer, you can mail in a check."

What an asshole the judge was.

She was tall and blonde. Her apparent age was in the early thirties. There was a hint of a shapely figure beneath her judicial robe. Under different circumstances this might have been a woman I'd have liked to get to know better. Much better. Yet, here she was, giving lectures and handing out fines for petty bullshit and, in general, making like a hardass. What a fucking waste.

"Just one moment there, mister."

I had gotten up to leave, but her words halted me dead in my tracks.

"I'll see you in chambers in half an hour. There are aspects of your particular case that require further elaboration."

Great! What in the hell did this judge want with me now? To slap me with yet another fine? To give me a speech about law and order and littering? To throw me in the slammer maybe?

I knocked on the ornate wooden door. No answer. Was I supposed to just walk in?

Dead silence. No one in sight. Wait. There! Behind the desk. On the floor. A black-robed figure on the carpet, and... naked flesh. The judge was lying there facedown, her arms stretched out in front of her. She had one leg in the air, languidly bent backward at the knee, and... and her judicial robes hiked up way above her waist. Her gleaming bare ass stared me in the face.

"Well, what are you waiting for? A judicial order?"

Her voice startled me out of the trance.

"Why do you think I summoned you here? To slap you with another fine? To give you a speech about law and order? To jail you, perhaps?"

She must have read my mind.

"No, citizen. You are in my judicial chambers for one particular purpose -- to enter into my intimate chambers. I want you. I want you to... make love to me in a very special way. I want you to... stick it up my ass."

Whoa! This wasn't exactly something I needed to get involved in. Fucking a judge in chambers. Sodomizing her. Hey, a person could get in deep shit for that. Very deep shit.

"What? Do I detect a certain reluctance? Does the defendant fear the consequences of enacting an ancient ritual with a justice of the Sanitation Court? Courage, my good man, courage. You might never have this opportunity again. Think of the memories. Of the tales you could tell your grandchildren. Not to mention the exotic sensual pleasures that await you in the here and now."

She wiggled her ass as she said that last. It was a trifle plump, that ass, but very nicely rounded. Curvy and enticing and available for the taking, and... I was stepping out of my pants before I realized I had made up my mind.

I slid right into her. Bareback -- no protection (this was before the AIDS era) -- neither of us wanted anything to get in the way of flesh-to-flesh contact. She was slippery-smooth inside, as if she had lubed herself up in preparation for this encounter. But the fit in the anal passage wasn't quite as snug as I was expecting. Could it be that the good judge had been stretched inside by doing this sort of thing before?

My first strokes were slow and tentative, but she moaned and rolled her ass backwards toward me, pushing me farther up into her. The heat. She was hot inside. Glowing hot. Almost too hot to bear. The judge was burning inside -- her rectum was the lava tube of a volcano.

Deeper! I had to get deeper into her!

I held on to her hips and pressed all the way into her, as I lay suspended full length on her back. My groin ground into the crack between her buttocks and I felt those cushiony ass cheeks squash against my hipbones. At full depth I held her tight and sank my teeth into her earlobe. Her legs began flailing and I felt compression waves begin inside her as her anal sphincter spasmed against my shaft. Her entire body went rigid, then she gasped and sagged into total relaxation.

The soft summer breeze blowing through the windows dispersed pungent odors of sweat and male and female excitement. There was the faint undertone of sperm-and-shit, the signature fragrance of anal sex.

"Wait. Don't you dare pull out yet," she said. "Reach for that damp washcloth over there and wipe yourself off when you withdraw. If you dribble any body fluids on the carpet, I'll damn well have you arrested for disorderly conduct."

"No, I can't just overturn the verdict. Justice is justice, after all. And, you have been found guilty of violating a municipal ordinance. But, tell you what. For services rendered, I'll refund the full amount of the fine."

She pulled a twenty and a five out of her purse and nonchalantly handed them to me. We were walking down the marble steps of the courthouse toward street level. I reached out to toward her, but she drew back. There wasn't a trace of emotion on her face. We might well have been strangers.