Who doesn’t love a man in uniform? I know I do. Policemen, firemen, even UPS men and their cute brown shorts. For a time I wore a uniform to work and I looked damned sexy in it.
Actually, wearing a uniform is nowhere near as sexy as seeing someone else in one. Makes sense, right? After all who loves their work clothes? No matter if they’re comfortable or not they’re still what you have to put on for a job you may or may not dislike.
For me, when I wore a uniform as a correctional officer at a maximum security facility, I grew to hate the damn thing. For one, they were olive green, which is so not my best color. However, the BDU’s weren’t all that bad. The pants were cargo style with large pockets for the many things I had to carry around. The shirts were a different story, mainly because I was constantly on a roller coaster of weight loss and gain. When I started I was pretty heavy, then within a year I’d lost weight so the shirts were huge on me. So I’d buy smaller ones, then regain the weight and before long the shirts were too tight and I’d have to dig out the larger ones. That was very demoralizing.
Even though I didn’t particularly like the uniform I had to wear I did appreciate it on my co-workers. A few other male officers liked to wear their pants tight which allowed me great views of their asses as well as their…packages. There were times I could tell if the dude was wearing underwear or not. One individual, who was insistently straight, liked to spread his legs to show off. I was rather impressed with the size of his junk until I heard a rumor the guy liked to stuff his underwear with a sock to make his thing appear bigger.
I was rather disappointed and allowed myself to continue fantasizing about seducing the guy. I had plenty of those, especially at work. I never had sex at work but it wasn’t impossible and I considered every possibility, especially when I worked with this particular officer. However, my dreams were dashed one day when he stood and a sock dropped out of his pant leg. He claimed it must’ve been stuck in there from when he did his laundry but I knew the truth. Sadly, that was the end of my fantasies for him.
It was probably for the best because even though I’m sure he had a bi-side he wanted to explore, he instead got married two times during the seven years I worked with him. He’d been married four times before I’d even got the job. His wives probably loved him in the uniform, but not so much out of it.
Meet the men in uniform. These are everyday men who put on a uniform and become our heroes. Through good times and bad, they are there to save the day, sacrificing more than most of us can imagine as they put their lives on hold in service to us.
Love doesn’t wait until life is calm, and sometimes it’s the pressure of the job that throws two men together. Under stress and demand, they find solace in each other, forming bonds that can’t be ignored.
Follow our heroes as they fight not only for what is right and just, but also for their hearts and the men they love.
Book Links: Goodreads
One More Time by Ethan Stone
“Yes, ma’am, I understand you’re not very happy with your husband, but that doesn’t mean you can attack him with a weasel.”
The couple had fought over which TV show to watch. Even though Mr. Palmer had acquiesced and let her watch Real Housewives of Washington D.C. Mrs. Palmer hadn’t liked the fact he had argued with her so when he’d gone to bed she’d tossed an angry ferret under the covers. Mr. Palmer had been bitten a couple times but there had been no major damage.
It was just another night as a cop in small town of Lovelock, Nevada. We never had anything exciting here. Mainly domestic disturbances like the Palmers. Some police offers would’ve preferred more action, but not me. I’d done four years in the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department and had gotten tired of dealing with punk gangbangers shooting at me. The three years at Lovelock had been far less exciting but much better for my blood pressure.
After settling the disturbance at the Palmers’ I cruised down Main Street making sure the boarded up buildings hadn’t been broken into by bored teenagers. Thankfully we only had more active businesses than empty ones in town. Not that we were a bustling metropolis by any means. I’d just braked to allow mangy stray black dog to cross in front of me when a man ran past my car. Because I was driving slowly I was able to stop in plenty of time. He stood staring at me for a moment before turning and dashing off. Normally I wouldn’t have wasted my time chasing him, but since he was buck-ass naked I figured I should bring him in.
I spun the wheel and turned down the alley he had fled into. Since it had a dead end, he couldn’t have gone far. I didn’t spot him right off the bat so I assumed he was doing his best to hide. I put the car into park, kept the lights on and stepped out.
“You might as well come out,” I hollered. “It’ll be a lot better for you if I don’t have to come in after you.”
I turned my flashlight to where the voice had come from behind two trash cans and the nude dude stepped out, his arms raised. I didn’t recognize him, which was odd since I knew most people in town. He was approximately twenty-five years old, six foot tall, one-hundred-eighty pounds. Muscular.
Shining the beam at his face, I asked, “Care to explain this to me?”
He chuckled nervously. “You’re not gonna believe me.”
“I was hooking up with this really hot chick and her husband showed up. Had to climb out the window.”
I sighed. “Was her name Connie?”
“Yeah. How did you know that?”
“Let’s just say you’re not the first man Harry’s caught her with. She does it make him jealous.”
He rubbed his face then quickly put his arm back up. “Christ, I’m a dumbass.”
About the Author
Ethan Stone is an out and proud gay man with a teenage son and a daughter who has made him a grandfather, three times over. A way too young grandfather. He also has a wonderful, frustrating and sexy boyfriend.
He is back Oregon after almost a decade in Nevada. Yes, he does have webbed feet.
Readers can find Ethan online on Facebook, Twitter, Website, or Email.