Tag Archives: Joshua Ryan

Story

The Prison Writer – Chapter 07

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By Joshua Ryan

It wasn’t totally dark in there.  The place reminded me of a parking garage or an auto shop.  Lights were hanging from the ceiling, and not far from the spot where Dean parked you could see a little inside building blazing with light against the murky background.  It was apparently some kind of office where we had to stop.

Dean unlimbered his big body and stood in front of the car.  Another big guy came out of the office, carrying a cell phone in his hand.  This guy also looked like a cop, but he was wearing a gray uniform.  He was talking loud, and Dean talked loud to match him.

“Hey bro.  How’s it goin.”

“How’s it goin, Hal.”

“Not so bad.  I see you got somethin in there.”  He peered at me in the back seat, chained under glass.  Then he pulled out his phone.  “Name?”

“Meres,” Dean said.  “M-e-r-e-s.  Here’s his shit.”

He handed a brown envelope to the man in gray, who opened it and checked its contents against whatever he saw on the phone.

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Story

The Prison Writer – Chapter 06

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By Joshua Ryan

It takes a little over half an hour to get to Glenvue from where I’d been living, but I was so wired up I don’t remember anything about the drive except being wired up.  I was a mile from my destination when I came out of my nerves enough to notice that Glenvue was a lot more prosperous than I’d thought it was.  I hadn’t pictured Dean working in a place that was quite that well off.  Maybe that explained why they didn’t mind hiring gays!  It looked like the kind of town where they wash the streets every night and you get fined if you don’t have a two-car garage.  I couldn’t help looking at it and thinking, “If my next book sells, I’m gonna get a place out here.”

The driver slowed down and turned in my direction.  He was a 20-something with a pony tail and a taste for the smooth jazz channel.  “You said 623 White Oak, right?”

“Right.”

“That’s it over there, but there must be somethin wrong, man.  It’s the County Jail.”

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Story

The Prison Writer – Chapter 05

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By Joshua Ryan

I realized that I’d wanted something new to happen to me, but I had no idea how quickly it would happen.  As the man says in “Heart of Darkness,” “the changes take place inside, you know.”  Which means that they can happen at the speed of light.  When we got back to Jerry’s house I wasn’t walking in as a guest; I was walking in as a prisoner escorted by an officer of the law.  It was hard for me to talk.  Everyone else seemed freer and looser than they’d been before.  Dean seemed to be talking and smiling even more.  When people started to leave, I was amazed that they could get through the door without permission.  When I left, it was like I was sneaking away before the guards could catch me.

I spent the next few days huddling in the condo — which had never been mine and now felt like some illegal squat.  I got drunk and jerked as if that was my true profession.  Ten days later, I was riffling through my junk mail and found an envelope that was long and heavy and return-addressed to a PO box that looked decidedly official.  It had been mailed to somebody named Meres Steven Curtis.  Oh, shit.  That little drive with Dean hadn’t been a daydream after all.

I ripped open the envelope and yes, it was a message from the

DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS

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Story

The Prison Writer – Chapter 04

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By Joshua Ryan

Jerry’s new boyfriend was giving him a birthday party — arranged by Jerry, of course.  There’s no point in describing it; it was just a big gay gathering with the ordinary number of lushes and phonies and nice guys, none of them interested in me.  Dean and Craig were part of the crowd standing around the quesadillas.  The usual drinks, the usual food, the usual conversation, the usual question from Jerry: “How’s the next book comin?”

“Slowly.”

“Gimme a date!  Publisher wants more of you.”

“I’m sure.  But I’ve paid for your BMW, and I’ve paid for your pool, so I’m doing this one at my own pace.”

“Come on!  It’s April!  I wanta fill the pool.”

“Whatever that means … As you know, my last book’s in the third printing…”

“Which means it’s about time to give em a new one.  Look…”

A 30-something in shorts that were far too tight for him wandered over, and I had the pleasure of meeting “Rory,” the latest BF.  That was that, but after a while Dean detached himself from Craig and the others who were grouped around him and strode in my direction.  He was the only person I knew who actually looked good in a Hawaiian shirt.

“Pushing the season?” I asked.

“Yeah, I know it’s early.  Follow me.  I told Craig you’d like a look at my car.”

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Story

The Prison Writer – Chapter 03

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By Joshua Ryan

Pictures from the next morning:  Dean’s smooth, heavy body filling my bed.  My head jerking up as memories hit me from the night before.  My feet stumbling over the clothes I’d strewn on the carpet.  Wine glasses lying dead in front of the couch.  My hands fumbling with the coffee maker, anxious to fix the obligatory brew and get this stranger out of my home.  Dean striding into the kitchen — white tank top, black boxers, bare feet, and the shadow of a beard.  “Make mine scrambled.”

Apparently he’d leave when he wanted to leave.

“I think,” he said, taking his final bite of the eggs, “you should use your own name.  No pen names this time.”

“Do you mind telling me what you’re talking about?”

“I’m talking about the name you’ll use in prison.  Steven Meres.  That’s good enough.”

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Story

The Prison Writer – Chapter 02

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By Joshua Ryan

I woke at 8:00 with the vague impression that I’d done something stupid the night before — probably something stupid in writing.  These days, almost everything I did was in writing.  I checked my email.  Oh God — there was a message from that cop I’d met the day before.  I’d wasted the whole day either talking to him or thinking about what he said.  That whole silly business about problems with my books … And here he was again.  Because I’d sent him a message!  “Time for lunch … dinner …”  Worse and worse.  Dinner was even more serious than lunch.  I hoped he was turning me down.  But no, he was saying he couldn’t do dinner until a week from Tuesday.  He would meet me at 6:30.  Where did I suggest?

Of course, I could have written back and told him I could see it was inconvenient for him — maybe some other time, I had a pretty heavy schedule … But … He was eye candy, at least.  Despite the boyfriend.  And it might be useful.  If you’ve got a fetish, I guess you ought to feed it.  And who knew if he was TOTALLY devoted to Craig?  Significantly, he was now pushing dinner, not lunch.  Not that I wanted to bed down with a cop!   I wrote back and suggested La Folie.  That would show him who was boss in the culture department.  “Please be my guest at dinner.  I’ll be grateful for your ideas.”

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Story

The Prison Writer – Chapter 01

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The Prison Writer

By Joshua Ryan

This story is for adults and about adults only.

It is also fiction.  Any connection to real entities is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

I’m Steven Meres, and I met Deputy Sheriff Dean Brannigan at a brunch given by my agent, Jerry Canto.

Jerry was a flighty, flamboyant queen, but why should I stereotype anyone?  After all, I’m a novelist; I should be above all that.  I’m just trying to explain why I was surprised when I got to the restaurant and found Jerry sitting next to a person whom he would undoubtedly have described as a superhunk.  I was prepared to be envious, but Jerry let me know right away that the man was, “unfortunately for me, only a friend.”

“Steven, client, meet Dean, gambling buddy.  I mean, buddy who gambles,” Jerry said.

The guy stood up to shake hands, and my first impression kept being right.  Six feet two, 100 percent muscle.  The long-sleeve tee did nothing to cover it up.  Neither did the jeans.

“Gambling buddy?” I asked him.

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Daily Thread

A reader sends feedback on the Prison Library

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cufffed11 sent this email recently:

Hi Metal,

I have been a silent lurker for at least 10 years. Lots of horny content, amazing pix, good info, but it’s your Prison Library that I get lost in. During Covid, the huge selection of stories provided me with lots of wank sessions, as well as a re-think on my fantasies. Surprisingly, it also kept me sane, allowed me to dream, and be safe.

I am a transplanted American living in the UK, living here for over 23 years and loving it. I have re-read lthr_jock’s depictions of fictional London numerous times. I recognise some of the areas he describes. Most of it has been razed over now and re-built by the rich, but it still sparks fond memories of my early encounters with warehouse fetish parties, clubs that no longer exist, and encounters with a lot of good guys. (Oh, the memories!)

The reason I am writing is because of Joshua Ryan’s three tales on your site. I have been holding off reading them, as they are very intense and detailed. I was avoiding them as they hit close to some on the “mistaken identity,” “swapping places to go to prison” fantasies I have. I finally took the plunge and read them and studied them over a three-day period. WOW. What a journey. While similar in construction, the journeys, both mental and physical, are very different! He hit the right amount of inner soul-searching for the various protagonists depicted. The three expansive tales re-set my perception of my fantasies and gave me a “wake up” call as to the meaning of “the rest of your life.” Sheesh. What a rollercoaster. Very, very good writing.

Yea, I know of “The Prisoner Fantasy,” “A Game of Chance” and “Darkness.” They get me going also, as do many of the other stories on your site. There are so many!

Thanks a lot for all the work and love you put into your site!

A loyal Fan,

cufffed11

 

Thaks, cufffed11, for the feedback! I am so glad to hear you like those stories, which are among my own personal favorites!