His bliss was quickly shattered when he heard a siren behind him. He looked in the rear-view mirror and saw a cop with his lights flashing. He looked down at the speedometer, and realized he’d gotten up to 80 mph. He jammed on his brakes, but he knew he was busted. He silently thanked God he’d put the top down so the car didn’t smell like weed. As he decelerated and pulled over to the side of the road, he let the joint fly out of his hand, hoping it would land on the road somewhere and the cop wouldn’t see it. It flew out of the car, but Eric didn’t see it fly back in and land on the back seat.

The cop car pulled over behind him and an imposing man got out and approached the Mustang. Eric smirked to himself that the guy looked like every stereotype redneck southern cop you see in movies, right down to his mirrored sunglasses. The cop approached and demanded Eric’s license and registration, telling him the local folks don’t take kindly to people recklessly speeding on their roads. The kid was about to hand him the documents when the cop said “Well, what do we have here?” Eric spun around and saw the cop reaching into the back seat to pick up the joint. “Get out of the car, son. NOW!”

Eric’s head was spinning from the effects of the pot and the growing feeling that he’d just gotten into deep shit. Despite all this, he still had a full hard-on (being 18 is a wonderful thing), and that noticeable wet spot on his shorts. He was too upset to notice his condition, but the cop sure wasn’t. He saw the front of the kid’s shorts, with the big bulge straining at the waistband, then looked at Eric’s muscular body and beautiful face, and he knew he’d found the one. He couldn’t suppress a smile as he cuffed the kid’s hands behind his back. Not a single car had passed by to see what was happening. As the cop led Eric to the police car, the kid’s head was down and he was so unsettled that he never noticed the other man getting out of the cop car and going over to get behind the wheel of the Mustang. The funny thing about rural Florida is that you can’t find one decent radio station, but you can find any number of swamps to roll a car into. The Mustang would never be seen again.

The cop drove silently for a few minutes, and Eric considered asking what was going to happen to him, but he thought better of it. “Just play it cool. Don’t do anything stupid and the old man will get you out of this,” he thought. Eric’s father was a high-powered lawyer, and had gotten the kid out of a few scrapes in the past. Eric dreaded calling him and telling him what had happened, but at least he’d take care of everything. They drove on in silence.

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My past has been wiped out and there is only the present. The future is something i never think about - it is enough that i am alive in the here and now. And that present has a purity and a simplicity that my past never had. i am a slave. i do what i am told. i accept...

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