Sam at the Con
- 4 years ago
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The Doctor, The Ex-Con free porn video
I posted this story on another site some time ago, but never on Lit. I have been physically unable to do any writing for some time so this is all I can do right now. It’s a long story but I’d rather give it to you all at once. Personally, I hate multi-part stories. I hope you enjoy it.
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Chapter 1- Carmine
The whistle blew as I stood up from my resting place next to the chain link fence that enclosed the area where I, along with twenty other men, was getting my daily ration of fresh air. I kept as far away from the other cons as I could since I was not going to blow my chance of getting out by getting into trouble. Freedom was just too damned close for me to screw it up. I ambled over toward the far edge of the field and queued up with the other inmates waiting to file into the outer chamber leading from the exercise field to the main hallway of the prison.
My name is Carmine Montoya and I’m a charter member of the inmates society here at lovely Ohio State Penitentiary. I’m one of over five hundred held courtesy of the State of Ohio. I’m in for assault and serving a sentence of seven to ten years. Actually it was a plea bargain that got me here but I was guilty: no question about it. I admitted it and my attorney worked out the deal. He was court appointed but he did the job. He was happy that I had no complaints, and wanted no appeal: I just wanted to serve my time and pay my debt to society.
We had two hours a day outside, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. This was the second, and the whistle signaled our hour in the sun was over. When the last man came through the sally-port, the steel bar gate slammed shut behind him. The clang was one I was familiar with now and it was just part of the background noise. Once it was shut, the gate in front of the first man in the queue slid open and we filed into the main hallway. I looked down the long sterile hallway, cells to the right and left, two levels high and most now filled and thought to myself that this had been my home for the last five years and some days. We were the last group of the day to go outside. As always, we marched single file down that barren walk with guards at the head and the end of our column and one walking beside. No talking, no nothing, just silent marching, the sound of our prison-issue shoes echoing from the block walls.
My group was on the ground floor so we marched down the center, men peeling off in pairs to the left or right to enter their cells. The doors were all open, waiting for the command to shut them down. I was near the end and followed Owen, ‘Big O’ Potts, my current cellmate as we moved out of line and into cell number 113. Owen jumped up to the top bunk while I took the bottom due to my seniority in this cell. The guard came past, looked in to see we were where we were supposed to be and that no one else was in with us, then after checking the full row, signaled to the gatekeeper. Once all were in and accounted for, the doors slid home with their own distinctive clang and we were sealed in for the next two hours until the dinner march.
‘So, tomorrow’s the day, eh Doc?’ Owen was not much in the way of words but this was a special occasion.
‘Yeah, tomorrow’s the day, ‘O’. Gonna be good to be out of here.’ I didn’t normally say much either which is why Owen and I were good cellmates. He had been with me for over a year now without either of us doing the other harm.
‘Yeah, good. You got my number, Doc? I’m out in another month.’
‘I got it. I just hope I don’t need it until parole is done.’
We were done talking until dinner. Silence was one of the premiums in a good cellmate. None of us liked to talk much after a few years inside. After all, when your world consisted of a barren cell and a cot with a stainless steel crapper, what was there to talk about? Most of the movies they showed were ancient and the library held mainly rejected books from the local schools. Not a lot of stimulation.
Owen Potts is in for manslaughter. He took a dislike to a man that threatened one of his kids. Seems the man also was messing with his missus and Owen took issue with that. He put a knife into the guy’s gut, just missing an artery. Fortunately, the guy survived so Owen only got fifteen years. His wife divorced him and he hadn’t seen his kid for the last ten years.
Shortly after he was released from the hospital, the guy on the outside was mugged and killed in what the police called a random case of robbery. Funny, but it wasn’t a surprise to Owen. All he said when he heard was ‘Good Job!’ He had already done most of his time and like me, the parole board gave him a pass on the remainder. He’d kept his nose clean inside. It’s good that society doesn’t like to shell out good money for more and better prisons. Makes our time a lot shorter.
I lay back, picking up the book I had been reading. It was a medical journal and it outlined several new procedures for resetting and aligning broken bones. I had kept up with the new procedures and discoveries in prison and the librarian was good about getting the books I requested. I picked it up, looked at it for a few minutes, then put it down. I wanted something less technical and more exciting. I picked up a fiction novel, one of Ludlum’s tomes, always good for reading since it took forever to finish one. Deep, dark, convoluted and violent. Just the thing for a convict to waste time with. I had read all of his works that were in the prison library. My release was coming just in time.
I had been in jail now for five years, three months and ten days. With the overcrowding in the state penal system, the courts had ruled that once a prisoner had served seventy percent of his minimum term, he or she was eligible for parole. The parole board had granted my parole on the third try. No one showed up to protest or to advocate for my release since I had made it clear I wanted no one I knew to know about my upcoming parole hearing. I asked only one man to speak on my behalf. I hadn’t asked anyone else for my side and no one ever appeared for the other one so it was pretty much of a wash in that regard. But this time I had a guarantee of a job and a place to live when I got out, courtesy of my old boss and friend, Jason Whatley. He ran a private practice now in Columbus and wanted me to come in with him. He had made the necessary calls and my license to practice had been renewed without issue since my crime had nothing to do with medicine and I had passed the proficiency test. The parole board liked this and the letter from Jason was complimentary so they relented and gave me parole.
During the time I was in, my only visitor was my sister Eileen. She was married and had three kids of her own. She and her husband Fred moved into our parent’s home in the suburbs of Cleveland after they were both killed in a car accident three years ago. Before that, mom and dad wanted to come visit but I begged them both to stay away. I hated for them to see me in here but mom had to come anyway. She and Eileen both came every couple of months until her death. Dad sent letters but honored my request: I think the whole idea pained him. However, they were gone now and only Eileen came.
We never talked of my ex and my kid. Eileen learned early on that I wanted no word of what they were doing. I had it in my head that they were better off without me. After all, I had lost it big time when I almost killed Hugo. I don’t think I would have done anything to Nancy, but I wasn’t sure, so I decided to put them in my past and move on. It seemed the best thing for all of us.
When she visited a week ago, I told Eileen of my deal with Jason and she was delighted. We promised to keep in touch after I was released. She asked if I had a place to stay and needed anything. I told her Jason had everything under control so not to worry. As soon as I was settled, I would call her and give her the information.
Laying on my bunk and considering all of this, I sighed and
tried to take a quick nap. Time seemed to be dragging even more slowly now than it did normally. All I had to do now was make it through dinner and then one more night in this hell hole and I would be a free man. Free from what? Well, that was a matter of public record so there’s no harm in telling you.
It was all because I beat a man almost to death. It was a close call but he survived and I was arrested and charged with assault with intent to kill. My court appointed attorney helped me to a plea bargain that reduced the charge to simple assault. I was guilty and was willing to plead out so it went through without a trial. I agreed to a term of not less than seven and not more than ten years if I would plead guilty. It was all very civilized and I was bundled off to jail and out of sight of all those who wanted me lynched or acquitted. Seems at the time, there were more on the lynching side but who was counting.
What happened? It was a very simple thing. I was a doctor on staff at a local hospital. I was a specialist and my practice was in the field of orthopedics, a bone doctor, and I had been on call for almost eighteen hours when I clocked out for the day and went down to the wards. I had a patient on the ward that I wanted to visit before I went home. As is the way of things, during the time I was in house, there was a serious accident and I was called to help. I worked Trauma for the next five hours before an emergency surgery had to be performed on a man who could lose the use of his leg if it wasn’t rebuilt properly. Since I was already there, I was paged and was in surgery for almost six more hours with him before I could get away by switching with a colleague of mine. I had been on duty now for over thirty straight hours.
I got a colleague of mine to take my next shift since I would be too tired to be effective and he agreed. I got out of the hospital before any more could happen and got in my car to drive home. I had called my wife earlier to tell her I was going to be delayed but that I would call if I could get away before my next scheduled shift. I hadn’t remembered to call Nancy before I left letting her know that I had switched, so I tried now. I called her cell phone just to be sure and got her voice mail and left a message saying I was heading home. It was just after one o’clock in the afternoon so I expected her to be home anyway. She worked part time for a Real Estate company as a receptionist but wouldn’t be working today. I wasn’t scheduled home until later that evening so since she hadn’t received my call, she would assume I was on shift now.
I pulled into the drive, noticing that a strange car was already there. I had no idea who it could be. I thought maybe it was a friend who stopped by since Nancy was home. I dragged myself into the house, my mind clouded by fatigue after almost thirty straight hours of working. I looked around the kitchen and the rest of downstairs and found nobody home. My muddled brain concluded that they must be out shopping or some such. Without any further thought, I headed for the steps, my body barely making its way up the stairs to the bedroom and the shower. That’s all I wanted now, a nice long, hot shower and then a few hours in bed. All alone, by myself. Heaven!
I walked into the bedroom and was met with a sight that remained burned into my retinas for years. It’s been over five years now but if I try real hard, I can still see my wife on the bed, her legs spread and a man laying on top of her and moving up and down between her legs. There was remarkably little sound but I do remember the little rhythmic squeak the bed made as he bounced up and down. I remember it was eek, eek, eek, or something like that. That sound, like the sight, was also burned into my memory. I don’t know what I thought at that instant but I didn’t say a word. All I can remember is turning away and walking out of the room.
At this point it all becomes a little blurry. I tried to remember it later but it was as if it happened to someone else and I was too tired to watch. All I know is that they said I went out of the room, got a baseball bat out of my son’s room and then came back to the bedroom where my wife Nancy and her boss and lover Hugo Bentz were still in the process of fucking each other to death. I hit Hugo on the back with the bat, and then when he noticed me, I swung it again, hitting him in the side, breaking several ribs, jamming one into his lung. It then appears I continued to beat him with the bat until my wife jumped on me, knocking me down. I apparently got up and tried to push her away before she ran out of the room into our son’s room and locked the door. She called 911 and they came shortly after.
They found me sitting in the family room, staring off into space, the bat still in my hands and covered in blood. When they asked me if I was alright, I couldn’t answer. I just dropped the bat and stood up. I wasn’t aware of anything at that point. Whatever was driving me before was gone. I couldn’t respond when they asked me my name or anything else, my brain fried. I remained that way for days afterward.
Hugo was still upstairs in our bed, unconscious. He was taken to the emergency room and I guess it was touch and go for awhile before they got him stabilized. I had given him a concussion, broken several bones in his arms and legs and a couple of ribs. I was told later that he needed multiple surgeries but he recovered with no complications. Nancy was not hurt and she told the police what happened. Since Hugo was there with my wife’s permission, the state decided to charge me since I had attacked him while there as my wife’s guest. Can you beat that? My wife invited him over to fuck her in my house and in my bed and I was the bad guy.
The first I remember is sitting in a small room with a very serious man asking me questions. I woke up, looked at him strangely then began to respond normally. At that point a policeman came in, handcuffed me and I was arraigned and charged with felony assault. That all happened several days later. I had been in a hospital, unresponsive for all that time but now I was magically cured, and I could pay for my crimes!
Nancy tried to talk to me while I was in jail waiting trial but I refused to see her. She tried to post bail but I refused and I refused her attempt to hire a lawyer. I asked and was given a court appointed attorney. He told me that the state was a little anxious about their case since Nancy refused to testify against me so they were willing to deal. I told him that I wanted to plead guilty which caused him to begin to argue with me but I refused to discuss it any further and told him to work it out.
He wanted to know why I would do something so insane, his word, not mine. I let him rant and rave until he seemed to have worn himself out and then I calmly explained it to him. I understood that my wife had cheated on me with the man I almost killed. I knew that I was impaired in my judgment and, with my wife’s unwillingness to testify against me, that meant that I could probably get off. But, and this was important to me and my sense of who I was, I had almost killed a man in anger and, for that, I insisted that I pay! And anyway, what was I going to go home to? A wife who was dissatisfied with me as a husband? A son who would be so disappointed in his father that he would come to hate me for what I had done?
He listened, shaking his head over and over but in the end, it was my decision and not his and I chose my fate. When they arraigned me, I pleaded guilty, the judge asked me a bunch of questions as if I were a moron, and finally accepted my plea. Sentencing was scheduled and I told my lawyer to go for a deal. He was a good lawyer with a good heart so he did as I asked. I think he still tried to get me the best deal he could, so it wasn’t all bad.
Once I was sent to jail, I refused all attempts for Nancy to see me. I sent her a short note telling her never to try to see me or to bring my nine year-old son to see me. I would refuse to s
ee him as well and I told her why. I never wanted him to see where I was living. That would hurt me more than anything else would: for my son to see his father behind bars and in a place like this. One of the reasons I pled guilty and accepted the plea deal was so as to eliminate the humiliation to my wife and son. I promised myself that what I did would never reflect on them. It was my crime and my sin and I would pay for it.
My first year in jail was a real nightmare but I got lucky. They paired me with a man by the name of Bruno Conseco. He was in for murder and he was a lifer. He learned I was a doctor in my other life and took a liking to me. He said we could do pretty well if I was to offer medical advice, letting him handle me as my ‘agent’. I refused initially, but after the first beating when I looked wrong at someone, I agreed, and he took it from there. Soon after, using my medical knowledge, I made a few friends, became known and respected and generally left alone. Bruno and I shared the spoils of my ‘consulting fee’ which usually consisted of cigarettes, sugar candy of any kind, magazines with women, and the like. We did pretty well and I became ‘well off’. Bruno was transferred some time after to a max security jail someplace else and I was on my own, but I was OK by that time and knew the ropes so I survived.
After that first year in jail, I was notified that Nancy was filing for divorce. She requested a meeting with me but instead, I sent her a note. I refused to see her and congratulated her on her new life with lover boy. I told her to write her own terms and I would sign without contesting it. I just wanted it over and done with and she could have it all, the house, the cars, the clothes and jewelry. We had a nice bank account at the time which should last her long enough to collect on the insurance policy I kept that covered her and my son in the event I was unable to work for any reason. I had no desire to contest it since I knew from the minute my fatigued brain took over that day that my marriage was over. I would miss my son but that was as it should be. No son should ever have to see his father in prison or to have a jailbird as a father. That was just wrong on so many levels!
All of that happened years ago now and I was able to forget most of it. I spent a little time with the prison shrink and I actually found myself able to forgive Nancy for what she did to me. He told me that forgiveness was not for her benefit but for mine. He was right! I remember feeling so much better after that. I sometimes went for weeks without thinking of my previous life, but I never stopped remembering both my son and my wife. It’s funny that I never stopped loving either one of them even after what she did to me. In my memory, her cheating faded and I remembered the good times. I think that spending so much time alone made the good times much better and the bad times a little less bad. I think that was true.
Anyway, the day of my release came and believe it or not, I had a few bad moments saying goodbye to some of the other guests of our beloved OSP. Owen of course, Tiny, who saved my life a couple of times early on, Benny five-fingers, Tony T, Pan, Willie, and several others. I had spent the past three years working in the hospital and I had treated many of the other cons. I did save Benny’s life by diagnosing a tumor, and Tiny got a reduced sentence on appeal after I told his lawyer I found a hormone imbalance that caused some of his behavior problems. I was leaving but my contacts with them were some of the ones I would cherish in later years. These friends were the ones that would remain regardless of what happened to me. We had been through hell together and that was a bond no one could break. Their friendship was honest and based on mutual respect, unlike many in the outside world.
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