Chapter 1

Several months ago I wrote a story called "The Women's House of Detention". It did pretty well in popularity for a strictly erotica genre story. Total reads was about 50,000 which is not bad for a three part short story. It was pretty heavy in lesbian and bisexual themes and had a bit of masturbation and fetish thrown in for good measure.

In actual fact, the "Women's House of Detention" in that story was the incarceration facility in lower Manhattan just at the edge of Greenwich Village. It had a similar reputation in female circles as Ryker's Island had for the male offenders.

I can almost feel the heat of the sun radiating off the cobblestones on the short side street that ran the entire length of the oblong building. Why this street was not paved like the streets on the other two sides was probably due more to oversight than any economic decision-making. The "block" that the structure sat on was more of an irregular shaped triangle than a square or rectangle like normal blocks.

The time that I write of here is the early 1950s. It was an era when a female confined in a correction facility was extremely rare. The trivial nature of transgressions that cause incarceration in the modern day would be considered as "small potatoes" and not worthy of the effort to rehabilitate in those days. In all honesty, any female, or male for that matter, behind bars was there strictly for punishment and not as a candidate for rehabilitation.

I had walked past this building several times before a friend of mine, Louie Rivera, a Puerto Rican with shocking red hair clued me in that it was a place they put "bad girls". Louie and I looked a lot alike and I was often mistaken for him by very nice looking Puerto Rican girls who couldn't speak a word of English. They usually giggled and laughed at me when they realized I was not Louie and didn't understand Spanish very well. At the ripe young age of 16, I was not in the least offended and just wished I was fluent in Spanish.

The building was of a reddish brown brick composition with large stones forming a shoulder high foundation that curved in slightly on top. One advantage of this feature I discovered later on was the fact that one could use the curved base as a stepping stool to reach the first visible exterior windows well above the normal reach of a standing man. I guess the idea was to preclude boyfriends or husbands from having unmonitored contact with detainees.

When I first was aware of the building being different than most other structures was when I heard the catcalls and naughty remarks being yelled from the very narrow barred windows as I walked past on the street below. I had been under the impression it was just another of those many "Con Edison" electrical edifices that looked frightfully boring and devoid of any design merit at all. It stood about 4 stories high and I suspected there were a couple of sub-basement levels for things such as "solitary confinement" and sound-proofed interrogation rooms. Not much unlike psychiatric institutions of the era. The East side of the triangle was a major thoroughfare and carried much of the North-South traffic into the area south of 14th Street. There was only one other building on the triangular block and it was a fairly large movie theater very popular on the lower West side of Manhattan. The incongruity of a prison and a movie theater sharing the same location was lost on the teeming masses.

One Saturday morning as I was just killing time before the movie opened for the Saturday morning showings, I idled outside the Women's House of Detention and fantasized about all the different sizes and shapes of "pussy" moving around inside this bleak fortress. I figured after a long time inside this place, most of the "pussies" would be just dying to get a bit of cock to make them feel female again. Except for those females that had decided to devote their attentions to what was readily available in great supply inside the prison. In fact, I had given myself a real strong hard-on just speculating on how they would decide who would have to "take it" and who would "stick it" to them.

I imagined that the guards, all female by the way, would have a field day if they were so inclined because of the nature of their authority and control over the inmate's lives. My rampant cock was sustained by my visions of myself dressed as a female guard forcing the women to obey my every command. When one of them "acted up", I would just show them firm discipline with my short hard stick on their soft little bottoms. It was a great fantasy and probably very naughty for a virginal 16 year old boy.

I heard a female voice in the window above sing-songing in an odd rhythm to catch my attention.

"Baby cock walking in the street, nice and hard, it won't melt in all this heat."

I felt a little guilty because my cock was hard with all the nasty thoughts that were running through my mind.

"I am not a baby. I am 16 years old and have a girlfriend already."

The last was an out and out fib but I figured who's to know the difference.

"Don't you shit me, little boy. You can't shit a bull-shitter. You probably haven't even sniffed a pair of panties."

"That's a lie! I sniff my sister's panties all the time and I even cum on her girlfriend's panties when they are dancing in their leotards."

The sound of the laughter up above informed me that there was more than one "pussy" listening to this conversation.

"See, little boy! You just said it yourself. You is a virgin for sure and your cock ain't been knocking on any door ever!"

I was indignant, but I had to admit it was my own words that put me in this position.

"Well, I am only 16. I got plenty of time to start sticking my thing in girl's holes."

I could hear at least 3 or 4 girls giggling up above me. It sounded like they were having a high old time at my expense but I found the whole situation pretty exciting and my hard-on was getting every more swollen every passing minute.

The first girl confirmed in my mind that she was black by calling me "White boy!" in her very next sentence. She told me her name was Shawna and that she was in for "soliciting". I wasn't quite certain what that was but I suspected it was related to a sexual thing. They must have been standing on something to get up to the window level because the next girl to get up to talk to me was a girl with a very sexy and distinctly Latin voice.

"You like Spanish girls, little boy? I got nice pussy for you. You can eat me for lunch any day."

All the girls were laughing now. They must be having a hell of time inside. I wondered where all the guards were.

"I go to the "Spanish Church" where everything begins with "Hoy es Domingo!"

The girl laughed and spoke some rapid-fire Puerto Rican to another unseen Spanish girl below her. I wondered what this girl looked like because her voice sounded so nice and sexy.