Romancing My Man

By Isaac Brown

I am a man and an African-American youth. At 16 years of age, I am into the dreadful teen years of finding myself; my sexuality; my personality; me. I am discovering how I want ‘Me’ to look; clothing style, hair style, even my hair colour. I want to stand out in a crowd; I want to be ‘Me’; not a facsimile of my father, uncles and brothers; ‘Me’. At 16 years old, my mum says I have many years to sort that out, yet my mind does not agree with her. My father tells me to act like a man, but I am still a boy. My brothers are all older than I am; I am the youngest of 4 boys, so I am always being bullied by them, but I am now learning to defend myself; I just took up boxing. The bruises and black eyes don’t worry me and neither does the sweat and exertion of training. I am always exhausted by the time I head for the showers; but I also feel exhilarated. I been in trouble with police; I am a gay black youth after all and to be expected. My boxing training is in a Youth Detention center in Chicago and knowing how to look after yourself is important here.

This is the first time inside and I am at IYC Chicago which is located on the west side of the city. My parents always attend the Parenting Group sessions and I get permission to sit with them during these sessions. I was just stupid and with the gang, stole a car and crashed it into a power pole. We were all injured in some way but not seriously, but the car was a write off so the parents; as part of our sentencing, were made to pay restitution; something dad was furious about. I ain’t a bad kid, but without these parenting groups, I could end up in a cycle of crime for the rest of my life, so I hope I can learn my lesson and stay out of a criminal existence. I am also finishing school; maybe not to college level, but enough to get a reasonable job. I don’t know what I want to do, but my social worker suggests a trade; wouldn’t mind being a chippie (carpenter). I like the woodworking shop they got here in prison. They call it a youth retraining center; it’s still a prison, regardless of what they call it. It’s all male and male to male sex is rife; what do you expect with 180 young men in the height of their sexual prowess and raging hormones. I been raped many times but now I am doing boxing training, I am developing my upper body strength and able to fight them off, but only just. I ain’t had any sexual contact with women; ever. Even at high school when I was out of prison, I wasn’t too keen on dating girls; I just thought I needed to grow up a bit to get excited by them, but being in prison has taught me one thing, I like the smell and sight of men; their smell sexually excites me, and so does their naked body when we all shower after physical training in the gym and out in the sports field. There ain’t anyone inside I particularly like, but one older guy seems to have taken a shine to me; he is maybe 4 years older than me and always waits for me to go into the toilets when we are in rec time, and stands behind me when I stand at the trough. When I finish having a slash, he will wait for me to turn around before he grabs my face a kisses me, then drags me into the toilet cubicle; I don’t know why the cubicle as it has no door and is only waist high walls so all can see you taking a shit. He then fumbles around inside my pants and gets me hard again, then when I am hard, I have to make sure he is hard, then he rapes me; he thinks he is raping me, but I kind of like having sex with him. His smell is masculine and turns me on no end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Isaac Brown
• Release date: Jun 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463727898

Isaac Brown

Isaac Luther Brown is a first time author; finding writing as a hobby in his later years after he retired from prison life at the age of 72 years. He spent most of his adult life in prison; mostly for non violent crimes. Isaac is of mixed race of Spanish, Southern French and Moorish (North African) blood. Writing had always been a passion for him in the solitary times when spent alone but it was only after his release from prison that he took it up as an author. Isaac is a gay man but not partnered at present although he still wishes to find someone to share his life in the future. Isaac now lives in the Far North of Queensland in the tropical northern city of Cairns with his devoted cat ‘Tiger’; a black and white mixed breed he rescued from a shelter. It was an older cat and he said he felt a kinship to the cat being black, older and in a cage as he had been. Isaac knew he was a gay man before he was incarcerated and although was raped many times inside whilst a young man, never found someone inside whom he felt a particular longing to be with so never formed any long term relationships.Isaac is determined to remain free and enjoy what he can of life in the years he has left. He enjoys being black; although he has no real association with others of his colour or race as there are few of North African heritage living close to where he is living. He felt more discrimination whilst in prison than he does living in normal society outside of prison. In prison, he had to align himself with prisoners of his colour whereas outside, he has many friends of white and black; something he could not do inside. Age has tempered his disposition and allowed him to make friends throughout the many ethnic communities within the community he now resides.His first book is of a white man who has a need to be black. The main character, Eric, has no idea why he has this need but it is a yearning inside him and his partner and friends cannot understand this need. He decides to go ahead and do it regardless of the cries of deplore by all those around him and accepts the challenges ahead of this regardless of their outcome; the outcome ending with his being sentenced to a term of incarceration. He anticipated being incarcerated as he was aware of the incarceration rate of black people but he did not expect the method used to put him in prison. His mind was altered; his deepening colour expedited and after an amount of time needed to absorb his new life, finds he likes being black; he likes prison and allows life to take him where it will. Life as a black man is different but it is what he desired and always wanted from a young man; he wants to remain black in his retirement and his benefactor allows this.

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A Gay Romance of Adventure

By Isaac L Brown

Copyright

Copyright ©2021 by Isaac L Brown

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book always remains the intellectual property of the writer under the Copyright Laws in Australia and the rest of the world.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This document uses historical facts to weave a storyline and uses web based information to achieve this result, using Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia as my main source. My thanks to Wikipedia for their assistance and available source of information; I do contribute to their finances when I can.

All photos shown either on the cover or inside this book were gleaned from the internet and permission to use has either been sought or the identification of the artist or persons was unable to be found. I have assumed their use is allowed for my use where permission was not available. I acknowledge the artists, photographers or subjects and commend them for their content.

Prologue

I am a man and an African-American youth. At 16 years of age, I am into the dreadful teen years of finding myself; my sexuality; my personality; me. I am discovering how I want ‘Me’ to look; clothing style, hair style, even my hair colour. I want to stand out in a crowd; I want to be ‘Me’; not a facsimile of my father, uncles and brothers; ‘Me’. At 16 years old, my mum says I have many years to sort that out, yet my mind does not agree with her. My father tells me to act like a man, but I am still a boy. My brothers are all older than I am; I am the youngest of 4 boys, so I am always being bullied by them, but I am now learning to defend myself; I just took up boxing. The bruises and black eyes don’t worry me and neither does the sweat and exertion of training. I am always exhausted by the time I head for the showers; but I also feel exhilarated. I been in trouble with police; I am a gay black youth after all and to be expected. My boxing training is in a Youth Detention centre in Chicago and knowing how to look after yourself is important here.

This is the first time inside and I am at IYC Chicago which is located on the west side of the city. The facility houses approximately 80 youth per day. There are approximately 140 employees at the centre. Staff receive ongoing behavioural management and de-escalation training.  The centre provides individualized programming to meet the needs of each youth, such as GED and high school diploma academic services, an in-patient substance abuse treatment program, mental health services, medical services, leisure time activities, assessments, parenting groups, and family engagement programming. In addition, the centre receives many volunteer services, including religious services, a musical theatre workshop, and therapeutic canine companionship and training modules. Some volunteer programs include off-site activities.  The goal of this entry is to promote public safety while providing an environment that improves the outcomes of the youth.

My parents always attend the Parenting Group sessions and I get permission to sit with them during these sessions. I was just stupid and with the gang, stole a car and crashed it into a power pole. We were all injured in some way but not seriously, but the car was a write off so the parents; as part of our sentencing, were made to pay restitution; something dad was furious about. I ain’t a bad kid, but without these parenting groups, I could end up in a cycle of crime for the rest of my life, so I hope I can learn my lesson and stay out of a criminal existence. I am also finishing school; maybe not to college level, but enough to get a reasonable job. I don’t know what I want to do, but my social worker suggests a trade; wouldn’t mind being a chippie (carpenter). I like the woodworking shop they got here in prison. They call it a youth retraining centre; it’s still a prison, regardless of what they call it. It’s all male and male to male sex is rife; what do you expect with 180 young men in the height of their sexual prowess and raging hormones. I been raped many times but now I am doing boxing training, I am developing my upper body strength and able to fight them off, but only just. I ain’t had any sexual contact with women; ever. Even at high school when I was out of prison, I wasn’t too keen on dating girls; I just thought I needed to grow up a bit to get excited by them, but being in prison has taught me one thing, I like the smell and sight of men; their smell sexually excites me, and so does their naked body when we all shower after physical training in the gym and out in the sports field. There ain’t anyone inside I particularly like, but one older guy seems to have taken a shine to me; he is maybe 4 years older than me and always waits for me to go into the toilets when we are in rec time, and stands behind me when I stand at the trough. When I finish having a slash, he will wait for me to turn around before he grabs my face a kisses me, then drags me into the toilet cubicle; I don’t know why the cubicle as it has no door and is only waist high walls so all can see you taking a shit. He then fumbles around inside my pants and gets me hard again, then when I am hard, I have to make sure he is hard, then he rapes me; he thinks he is raping me, but I kind of like having sex with him. His smell is masculine and turns me on no end.

Chapter 1 - Release

I done my time; 9 months of a 12 month sentence for car theft; 3 months of parole ahead and to keep my nose clean. Mum and dad have forced a curfew on me and I have to be home at 9pm every night regardless, so if I get a job, it can only be a daytime job. The Parole Officer tried to get me an apprenticeship as a carpenter but nobody wanted an ex con, so I’m now a janitor in an office block; cleaning toilets, collecting the waste from the offices, sweeping and washing floors, hosing out the industrial bins after the waste is collected; basically a no-trade low paid worker of no skill. It ain’t what I want from life, but as an ex con at 17 years of age, looks like it is what my life will consist of. My parole officer told me he don’t care if I am dying, I must report for work every day I am rostered on or I will break my parole conditions and will end up back inside. I face a life of drudgery and low pay for eternity; well at least for the next 3 months anyway.

My first day I turned up at work, I was given a janitor’s uniform; a pair of brown Dickies® overalls, work boots, a pair of leather work gloves and a Dickies® brown wet weather coat for workers. I felt like a copy of my father. He wasn’t a janitor, but he worked in a factory and wore the same clothes; drab and lifeless slave to a job. I decided I wasn’t going to wear any of my own clothes when travelling on the train to work from home, as I didn’t want to wear them out or get them dirty when using the train during the times other dirty workers used it. I caught the 05.25 train from East Side close to the border with South Chicago. It was on the ‘L’ line. Many of the early morning workers were heading for the meat works and all 3 of my brothers worked there so I always walked to the station with them. All 3 of my brothers had done time inside both Juvenile and adult prisons and their working life was restricted by their prison time. Being ex cons, they had little chance of decent jobs. All 3 were married and had kids, but they were poor and lived mostly on hand outs from the various charities in the area. I didn’t want this type of existence, but my stupidity had put me in a similar situation to my brothers and I had little opportunity to advance myself through being an ex con. I had no skills and no money to train myself in new skills. No employer wanted to take on a troublesome youth as an apprentice.

3 months as a janitor with a pay rate of $7an hour was a pittance of a wage and below the poverty line if I had a family; but I was lucky and didn’t have any kids. A wage of just about $270 a week barely paid my train fare and left anything to go out; but I wasn’t allowed to go out at night while on parole anyway. Life was now drudgery; wake up at 4.30am, catch the train at 5.30am, start work at 6am, work until 12 noon, then half hour for lunch (sandwiches from mum and a flask of coffee) then work until 6pm, then travel on the train home for tea at 7pm; bed at 9pm and get up again next day at 4.30. This was 6 days a week for at least the next 3 months before I could even think of changing my habits. 3 months before I could think of buying some clothes to go out; 3 months before I could find myself a man to have sex with. My nuts were bursting and I needed relief.

You daydreaming again Isaac? It was Jasper Wagner; my foreman.

What?

Wake up lad; you daydreaming again? He said sarcastically.

You ever want to get a better job Jasper?

Why I need a better job? I done time, who’s going to employ me anyway; best I stay here; least I can eat.

And you got a bed and your own room; don’t think I could live in the oven you call a room?

I been there 30 years; it’s my home.

Don’t you ever think about having a family Jasper?

Can’t afford a family lad; anyway, what lady would want me; no money, no life and an ex con to boot?

I don’t want to be a janitor all my life; I want to do something with my life; have a trade and earn decent money.

Should have thought of that before you stole that car.

Yeah, should’ve but didn’t. Why didn’t you leave here when your parole finished Jasper?

It was the only home I had lad; it was warm in winter; Chicago gets awfully cold in winter; better than being homeless.

I ain’t staying when my parole is finished. I want a life old man; not wearing overalls everyday and cleaning some rich man’s shit hole; I got more pride than that.

Meatworks take on ex cons?

My brothers are there; I don’t want to smell like dead meat all the time. It gets into their blood and into their skin; they smell of dead meat when they sweat.

They got a family?

Yeah

They need to work and earn a living lad. When you married and have kids, it don’t matter what you do for work as long as you can feed the kids.

I aim to do better. I ain’t a slave and I don’t aim to work like one either; I aim to get a good job one day.

Good luck with that. Your police record will follow you wherever you go kid, so don’t expect to be the Managing Director of anything in the future?

3 months and I’m out of here; you watch. I said

I was determined not to work in low paid jobs like my family; I wanted to break out of the vicious cycle of poverty. I wanted to be somebody but I didn’t know how yet. When I got home that evening, my Parole Officer was waiting for me. He was sitting in the kitchen alone; none of my family would sit with him as all knew him as a sly son-of-a-bitch who would report any parolee for the slightest infringement. I took my boots off inside the back door and ignored him until I had made a cup of tea and taken my jacket and boots off. It was then he called me over.

Jasper told me you don’t like the job kid.

What he go blabbing to you for? I said angrily.

He didn’t; I went over to see him after you left, on my regular visits. You’re not working hard enough kid and you better buck up or I’ll send you back.

I ain’t broken any parole conditions so you don’t have a case.

I can make one up kid so don’t give me any lip.

What you here for anyway? I asked like he was an imposition being there.

You ain’t been to the gym doing your boxing training since you got out.

Ain’t got time; I got to be in bed by 9pm remember; one of my conditions?

I’ll let you go to the gym each night after work as part of your conditions; you just got to ask kid?

Why the interest in my boxing?

Mike said you were a promising kid.

Mike?

The guard who trained you in boxing at the centre?

How’d he know what I do?

He runs a youth gym near where you work; says he will vouch for you if you go there each night after work; you want to do boxing again?

I liked it, so yeah, can I?

You got any gear?

Nope.

Mike will find some for you; you be there tomorrow at 6.15pm and no later; he’ll sort out some gear for you. Don’t be late and you got 1 hour to get home afterwards.

Why you doin’ this?

Mike is a good friend of mine; he likes you.

Likes me? How; like finding a place for his cock?

Watch your tongue kid; I ain’t fussy who I return to the lockup.

So I can stay out to 11pm?

Home by 9pm and bed by 10pm; new conditions if you want to train.

That’s only for the next 8 weeks; then you got no hold on me Lonnerman.

Mr. Lonnerman kid; don’t forget that for the next 8 weeks. Insults and insolence will get you back inside and an extended sentence. He stood up and left without saying anything more. Mum and dad ignored him but got up when he had left and came into the kitchen.

Well; what you done now to get that pig in my kitchen? Mum said angrily.

Nothing, he told me I can go to the gym after work to train in boxing if I want to.

You accept?

Yeah, so going straight after work; got to be home by 9pm and in bed at 10pm now.

You ain’t got no gear for boxing? Dad said.

The coach is going to find some for me; might have to wash them out each night mum?

I don’t mind doing that for you love; you go to the gym; get’s you out a bit and let you find some friends.

I liked boxing; it let me get rid of all the pent up energy I had whilst inside. It helped develop my body too. I was kinda missing training; I was getting flabby round the middle again and didn’t like it but my time restrictions didn’t allow me to go to the gym; now I could. I finished work the next day and went to the gym which was within walking distance of the office block where I worked. It was at the back of an old building behind an old retail store that had been converted into low cost housing. When I walked inside, I saw the guard who had trained me inside and walked towards him. He saw me and came forward.

Go take a shower Isaac and I’ll bring in some gear for you. He said. I nodded and headed for the shower.

I stripped off and headed into the hot shower and luxuriated in its warmth as I soaped up. Mike entered with a bundle of clothes and a pair of boxing boots. Mike was still young at about late 20’s. He was well built and stood tall at about 6’2"; about 4 inches taller than me. He was also black and I always wondered why he had chosen to be a prison guard at a youth centre. That made him about 10 years older than me, but he was good looking, strong and always made my blood boil and my cock stand to attention.

How you handling parole kid? He asked.

Very restrictive; can’t do much except eat, sleep and work; no fun. I said as I turned off the shower and walked stark naked towards him with my cock raised high and my black body glistening with beads of water.

Looks like your cock needs some relief too? He said jokingly.

I ain’t into girls so my own little lady has to do the job. I said almost with a smile but remembering Mike was a guard and anything I said could and would be reported back to Lonnerman.

I thought you were gay; there is always something about a gay kid when you see them in prison; they get picked on by the others.

Why do you think I took up boxing; the only way I could protect myself and bash a few heads myself?

You got a good style kid; needs perfecting, but it is unique and can get you far if you train?

Why you doin’ this Sir?

Cut the Sir; my name in here is Mike not Sir. I aim to keep you out of the prison system Isaac; you got the potential to go pro with a bit of training; you want to go pro?

Fuck off Mike; gay men don’t fight pro. I said bitterly.

Why not; why can’t a gay man do anything he wants to in this day and age? The world’s his oyster? He said.

A straight guy without a prison record maybe but not an ex con black kid?

I didn’t reckon you were a defeatist Isaac; I always saw you as a striver; you going to make a fool out of me? I went out on a limb to get permission to get you here, so don’t make me force you to attend?

I want to learn to box Mike; I like boxing, but I’m not sure about going pro?

That’s a few years away yet kid; let’s get you back into training first then see what the future holds?

I changed into the gear and Mike wrapped my hands before I put the gloves on. I was made to work the bag for almost an hour before Mike came over and pulled me away; I was exhausted but happy. I sat and watched a young black guy in the ring and he was good; about 18 years old but well built and fast; I wished I had his body and speed. Mike then called me over to the ring.

Isaac, this is Deon; I want you two to have a 3 round match; see how you go as sparing partners.

"I shook hands with Deon and stepped into the ring; all my past training came back in an instant and I moved around the ring like a stupid pro, but Deon was more trained than I was and more skilled and just let me go for a while before he stepped in and hit me right on the jaw and I saw stars. I went into scrapper mode then and Mike started to shout abuse at me.

Get your head on Isaac; fight not scrap; think man; Think? He shouted. I accepted what he shouted and tried to get into fight mode once again.

This kid was good; had a good reach and was punishing every mistake I made. We fought for 3 rounds, and then Mike pulled me off the ring and then had a go at me.

You’ve forgotten all your training Isaac; getting a little flabby round the middle too.

Ain’t had much training since I left prison Mike; do you reckon I can make the grade?

I want you here every night after work; you get Sundays off; you hear?

You still want me to train here?

I saw potential in prison kid; it’s still there but you got to work hard at it.

Every night after work; ain’t that a bit excessive?

You want to get that killer body kid? Then every night after work and we will try and find it again.

I get every Sunday off?

If you want it, but I’ll work on Sundays with you too if you want too?

Need some time for Me Mike; I’ll agree to every night except Sundays.

I’ll agree to all but Sunday, but I think you will alter your thinking once you get back into it?

Maybe, but not just yet.

I went into the showers and took my gear off and packed them into my back pack I used for work, and then showered. Deon came into the showers and stripped off and joined me in the concreted area where there were 4 shower heads and started to soap up. I saw he was covered in sweat when he stripped off and I marvelled at his black, shinny physique; he had the perfect black body of an athlete; I felt myself growing and knew he had seen my horn emerging under the hot water.

That because of me or the hot shower? He said as he rubbed the soap through his black tight fuzzed hair. I was caught slightly unaware of what he had said at first, then realised he had seen my raging horn and I didn’t know how to answer him.

Only if you’re gay. I said stupidly.

Want to get a coffee before we go home? he asked.

Can’t; on parole and got a curfew to keep.

Mike can get you some extra time; want me to ask him for you?

What’s on your mind Deon?

I think your cock needs attention kid; maybe get you to sleep over?

I don’t think Mike would agree to that.

Why, because he is a prison guard? Who do you think I sleep with? I was shocked when he said it; Mike didn’t look like a fag.

You serious; he’s a fag?

Didn’t you know; he fucked me several times in prison, didn’t he try it on you too?

No, never. He has to be careful Deon; he don’t want the Warden to find out?

The warden; he’s a real queen that one; likes female clothes too. Don’t worry about the warden; you want to come to my place for coffee?

Yeah, but I’ll ask Mike; best if I do.

He might even join us; depends on his mood.

You live with him or at your own place?

We got an apartment together but it’s got 2 bedrooms and we sleep separate most nights; he joins me when he needs to get fucked.

You fuck him?

He likes it both ways, but prefers to fuck anything over 18 years old.

I’m under 18 so that’s why he didn’t try it on me.

It ain’t illegal to have sex under 18, just as long as you are at least 16 years old and are consenting?

Gay sex too?

Sex is sex, gay or not.

Sorry Deon, I’m not interested.

Not interested in sex or having coffee with me?

You’re an ex con like me; I would violate my parole if we were found having coffee or even being in the same room as each other; no thanks; I’ll give it a miss. I said almost reluctantly as I felt something when I looked at his muscular yet sleek body.

Suit yourself. He went to turn, then came at me with speed; I wasn’t ready for him. He pushed me against the shower wall and was about to force me to face the wall when I heard Mike shouting from inside the shower area.

Deon; leave him alone. Deon stopped and looked at Mike with a smirk on his face.

He was asking for it. Deon said.

No he wasn’t Deon; you ever touch him and you answer to me; do you hear me? Mike said loudly. Deon moved away from me and I shook him off and moved out from the shower and grabbed my towel. I started to dry myself and Mike came over.

Sorry Isaac; he is still inside prison and doesn’t know how to ask nicely.

Oh he asked nicely but I refused.

You will be over 18 years when your parole finishes; what you do after that is your own business, just stay clear of him until then.

Bit hard to stay clear of him when he also trains here? I said to Mike.

I’ll keep him busy; anyway, he’s over confident; you can beat him and he knows it.

Why did you ask Lonnerman to let me train with you?

I saw potential in you when you were in Youth; many youth lose their confidence when they leave the prison and end up going back inside. I don’t want to see you back inside, you have too much potential.

What, as a fighter?

"If that’s what you want to do? No; there is a confidence in you that says to me you want to