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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.
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 movie.
Our gay cop looked good in or out of uniform. 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.