Gay Policeman
He was beautiful, the gay policeman. Wearing his silver
swimming trunks. Baby oil glistened on his body. As he strutted his stuff in
the gay club, it was heaven.
Everybody loved him. Even the straight people. Cat calls
and cheers erupted as he cavorted on the stage. A random man, picked from the
audience, added to the show.
They cavorted together. Bumping, grinding, holding hands,
kissing. It was real, not an act. The acts came later, drag queens! The gay
policeman would cum with many this night.
He was off duty, moonlighting to earn extra cash. His
colleagues didn't know he was gay. It was his secret. Being a motorcycle cop
was cool. Like an extra in a Clint Eastwood film.
Our gay cop looked good in uniform or out. He was a
natural, the finest male there was. Was this why people asked him for his
autograph? Coz they thought he was famous?
Or was it his beauty? Yes, a man can be beautiful. The
reason was everyone wanted to be the gay policeman. He was just so natural, so
relaxed, so real.
Maybe his next stage act should be arresting someone?
He'd have so many takers. Just like in his day job, stopping naughty criminals
and keeping the innocent safe.
No comments:
Post a Comment