1. I Was A Teenage Size Queen

By Bradley Baddley

It was a week after my 18th birthday in the hottest part of the summer and I drove out to Columbia to visit my friend Rex who was a freshman at the University of Missouri. We went to a gay nightclub where we both used fake I.D. at the door, though it seemed like the bouncer could care less … I was completely trashed on pomegranate martinis and Rex and I had a big fight following his drunken decision to sit in a big greasy football player’s lap and start making out right at the bar – what a spectacle …  I was unusually angry –  I’ve never actually punched anyone in the nose or anything like that, but I was such a little bitch! I whipped out my dick in the parking lot and pissed on the pavement without even turning my back I was so furious. I was making my urine splash up on the big ugly’s cowboy boots, and I started giggling because he was so busy stuffing his tongue down Rex’s throat and shoving his hand down the back of Rex’s skin tight jeans that he didn’t even notice I was peeing on his shoes … I can be such a little hellion sometimes and I totally admit to being shit-faced drunk …

I said goodbye to my best friend Rex with an exaggerated “Whatever!” and after drinking a couple of espressos, I thought I was sober enough to make the drive back to St. Louis in my shitbox Honda Accord … But just my luck, a state trooper pulled me over for a bad headlight, and he said he smelled booze on my breath. He called for backup and the two cops gave me the roadside sobriety test, with the disco dance lights flashing, right there on the shoulder of I-70 with traffic whizzing by at 190 m.p.h. – it was so embarrassing!

The po po arrested me on suspicion of driving under the influence and they put the handcuffs on really tight. The cop who pulled me over was quite handsome and I started getting a partial woody when he frisked me for weapons – he seemed to be making sure to check my inner thigh region very carefully and I was just about to ask him if he was gay but I didn’t ( ! ) They took me to the closest jail which was in tiny Hickoryville about halfway between Columbia and St. Louis just off the interstate. They gave me the breathalyzer …

“Blow into this long tube and don’t stop blowing,” said the state copper.

“Yes sir!”

…  I blew a 0.09% BAC – still drunk enough to get charged with a full blown DUI.

It was a chickenshit little police station in an ancient red brick building next to the railroad tracks. The state cops had to wake up the only local cop on duty, a bald dude who was short in stature, and the name badge on his uniform said “Rumbold.” Acting fairly bothered he turned on a raw looking electric coffee maker that was already half full with some bad smelling pedestrian brew … I had the feeling he wasn’t going to be offering me a cup anyway … He watched the way better looking state cops give me the blow test and then fill out paperwork as he complained about the late hour – it was just after 2:00 A.M when they brought me in.

After the troopers departed, Rumbold said he was going to have to give me a cavity search. He took me into a windowless room that was about as big as a walk in closet. Rumbold ordered me to strip down completely naked and believe me, I could tell he was checking out my twinky bod as I dropped my undies. He had me fold up my clothes and then he dropped them into a plastic storage bag. Rumbold collected the bag and my sneaks and said he would be right back. There was no furniture, only a bench against the wall, and there I sat in the stifling July heat with no A.C., naked as a jaybird with my penis shriveled up smaller than a box turtle head barely poking out of it’s shell, and my shaved balls hanging low …

It seemed like quite awhile before Rumbold returned and then he abruptly opened the door and stepped through quickly like he was hoping to catch me jerking off or something: “O.K., stand up and put your hands on the bench,” as he pulled on a nitrile exam glove, “stick your buttocks out and spread your legs,” he opened up a jar of Vaseline and slathered up my anus and butt crack with what seemed like a rather large amount of lubrication for a simple cavity search ( ? )

“Well if you’re going to fuck me up the ass at least you’re using lube,” I couldn’t help myself.

“Oh yea,” said the bald cop, “I’m going to give it to you up the ass alright,” he began to insert his fingers first and soon had half his hand up my butthole, “boy howdy! I’ve discovered a bat cave – what are you like one of those St. Louie queers or something?”

“Queer as a two dollar bill – and I’ve never been fist fucked by a policeman before.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he had his hand in up to the wrist now, “wow you could really hide some contraband up in here!” Johnny Law was clearly having too much fun.

“You’ll have to go in up to your elbow to find my bong and stash,” I have always been such an insufferable smart ass!

The cop pulled his hand out of my ass: “O.K., you’re clean;” I could hardly believe what happened next – he unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants and dropped trou down around his thighs, “Get down on your knees and suck my dick bitch,” he muttered.

“Oh please!” I exclaimed, “you think just because I’m gay I’ll suck any pathetic little peter that gets shoved in my face? … how insulting!” … and it was truly a pathetic little peter – a cocktail frank sized dicklet – half hard with a disgusting overgrowth of  bushy pubic hair. I began getting sick to my stomach and came close to spewing in the cop’s face, “I wouldn’t suck your little dick if it was the last little dick on earth!”

Rumbold’s face turned beet red and he quickly pulled his drawers back up and vacated the room. He returned a few minutes later with one of those baggy florescent orange jumpsuits. What a relief, and after I pulled on the too big monkey suit,  he silently led me back to a small holding cell where he locked me up for the night.

It was a four bunk cell and there was only one other prisoner who pretended to be asleep but once Rumbold was gone he sat up on his bunk: “What are you in for kid?”


“I’m Tom,” he said, “damn, shouldn’t you be in juvie or something? I know you’re not old enough to drink and you don’t look old enough to be in adult jail either.”

“I’m Brad,” I said sitting down on an empty bunk,”I just turned 18 last week,” I was noticing the fact that Tom was very good looking in a rugged sort of way, probably about 30, “what did you do, Tom?”

“Grand theft auto – I was driving a stolen car when they pulled me over.”

“Jeez, you’re a car thief?”

“Ummm, not full time – it’s a long story,” Tom stood up and walked over to a stainless steel toilet to take a piss. The toilet was in the middle of the cell and there was no way to obtain any privacy. There was also no easy way to pull your dick out of the jail suit and he had to drop the entire coverall down to his knees to take a leak. Tom had a few tats and looked as if he worked out – slightly hairy with a broad chest … and as my interested eyes traveled downward I also noticed he was hung like a stallion.

“Do you lift weights?” I asked bright eyed.

“When I have time,” said Tom smiling, he positioned himself to the side of the toilet so he could make eye contact … and so I could watch – he took his beautiful fire hose of a cock in his hand and took a glorious leak in the stainless steel bowl and then shook his penis … more than once … “I’ve been in here for a few days and haven’t thought of even jerking off, but now that I have some company … ” he stared into my eyes as his huge manmeat began to grow longer, and longer, and longer ( ! ) Within 20 seconds he had a full pre-cum dripping erection. He was at least 9 inches, maybe longer, with a thick mushroom shaped knob of a peckerhead.

I was out of my monkeysuit in a flash, naked as a jaybird, down on my knees taking Tom’s tremendous wanger in my mouth; his penis was so big, just his velvety dickhead was a mouthful, and his cock was oozing tasty jit.

“Lick my balls,” ordered Tom.

“Yes sir,” I complied, lapping at his big nuts like a Missouri hound dog.

“I usually like to take off my belt and give a young boy a whipping before I fuck him,” said Tom, “but since they confiscated my belt, a simple spanking will have to do – he had me stand up with my hands grasping the bars of the cell door, and then he gave my shaved buns a red hot spanking … My body was completely shaved from the neck down because there is something you should know about me faithful reader – I simply adore cross-dressing! I told hunky Tom about dressing up as a girl, but he said he would rather fuck a young boy and he was absolutely delighted with my shaved pubic hair and skinny little 5” dick that had gone completely soft as a result of the stinging discipline.

“Please let me suck your cock, sir,” I cried.

“O.K., boy – you like to deep throat?”

“Yes sir! I would love to swallow your whole member,” and soon he was choking me with his enormous ding dong though I could barely get half of it in my mouth and down my throat because it was so gigantic! Next I was on my knees before my master whacking off a mile a minute as he face fucked me fast and hard. I stuck my middle finger up my ass, “my butthole is well lubed from the cavity search that asswipe cop gave me. He was actually fist fucking me in the exam room and then he tried to get me to suck his dick.”

“The guard tried to get you to give him a BJ?” said Tom astonished.

“Yup, but I don’t fuck just anyone and he had an ugly little pecker.”

Tom laughed, “Get on your hands and knees boy, cuz Big Tom is gonna fuck you up the ass dog fashion until the cows come home!”

… I had the worst hangover of my life the next morning, but the jailhouse sex with hung Tom was maybe the best ever ( ? ) … (hmmm, I’ll have to think about that one) … but I bailed out easily with my Mastercard and I was soon back on Interstate 70 in my shitbox Honda headed home to Chesterfield, a western suburb of Old St. Louis. Nothing like a little hair of the dog to cure a bad hangover and I stopped and bought a Bud Light “tall boy” to round off the edges. I washed down a couple of ibuprofens and wondered if my parents would find out about the arrest and I knew sooner or later I would have to tell my Mom …

To Be Continued …