In Uniform

  In Uniform

  A Police Story

  Sophie Sin

  Contents

  Front Page

  Contents

  Copyright

  Introduction

  1. Ms. Sexy In Blue's Proposal

  2. Handcuffed To The Bed

  3. How He Decided

  Bonus Book

  Book Note

  Find More Books

  Copyright 2016 Lunatic Ink Publishing

  by Sophie Sin

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion of may not to reprinted or reproduced without the written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Keep up with Sophie Sin's latest work at his profile here: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SophiaSin

  Sophie Sin also writes male-male erotica under the pen name Dick Powers. You can find a list of her books here: www.smashwords.com/profile/view/DickHard

  INTRODUCTION

  People get up to strange things in relationship to their jobs. This book takes a look at one odd couple with a big decision on their hands.

  Thank you for reading Sophie Sin's work.

  Much appreciation,

  Kenneth Guthrie

  Editor & Publisher

  Lunatic Ink Publishing

  1

  Ms. Sexy In Blue's Proposal

  From the couch of Charley Marone...

  She wants me to make the biggest decision of my life like this?

  They say that text messaging has taken over the world to the point where lovers even ask each other to marry one another over it. This is the first time that I've ever heard of anyone asking if their boyfriend of several years will consider having a baby with them. The emoticons alone take away from the seriousness of the proposal.

  I swing my feet over the side of the couch and throw my boots one over the other. My naked skin is touched by a light wind from the nearby open window that looks over the street to the police station where the sender is texting from.

  Rubbing the stubble on my jaw with one hand, I thumb in my reply: You are asking me by text?!?

  The reply comes shortly with a little bell-like bing from my phone.

  Work is busy.

  It's always busy, I write back.

  The captain has us working late tonight, Jenny continues without replying to my text message – probably ignoring it because of the angry face next to busy.

  “Then fucking tell him you want to have a serious conversation with your boyfriend and get your ass over here,” I voice.

  Instead I write: So you are seriously asking me this over text?

  It's the best I can do.

  Sliding up the cushion, I stare at my school books. My girlfriend is a cop. She's been a cop for 5 years and is getting to that age that women do when they want to babies. I'm still in university studying for my PhD in Physics (I'm a math geek). The answer is simple.

  I can't have a baby with a cop just now. What if you get hurt or killed?

  If we are going to get to it on text message then we might as well REALLY get to it.

  There's radio silence. I wait and stare at the door before reaching down, picking up my coffee in the chipped mug I like and take a sip before settling back to switch to the game app I was playing. The lady of the house is pissed and, fortunately, due to her work, won't be coming over to take it out on me.

  I pity the criminals that get in her way today. I wouldn't want to be them.

  2

  HANDCUFFED TO THE BED

  In the evening around 8pm...

  “Charley Marone, you will not deny me.”

  Silly me: I mistook pissed for planning. Jenny has her night stick out and I'm cuffed to the bed after a short scuffle in the lounge that didn't go my way. As I was naked except for my boots at the time, I'm still naked right now.

  “I'm not saying I won't,” I try.

  The sexy blond, who has had my heart from the moment she arrested me for drunk and disorderly several years back, shifts one leg out and puts on a wide stance with her arms crossed and the night stick hanging from her fingers. I note that she has put on black heels with high pins. If one of those pin heels where to connect with my nuts then I'd be having the kind of visit to the hospital that is hard to explain with “I fell down the stairs and impaled my balls.”

  We stare at each other. Her blues eyes are like fire and tell me about as much as I want to know about the quality of her anger. My brown eyes are more calm than I feel. The truth of the situation is that my older girlfriend has a mean temper that is razor sharp when she's mad. Right now Jenny is about as pissed as the buxom blond can get. It's all part of the dynamic of our relationship, but that doesn't stop me from worrying about the future of my nuts.

  “You said that you wouldn't in your message.” The woman's voice is like lava. I'm definitely at risk of sleeping on the couch for a few nights here – if not something more.

  “What I said is the truth. We aren't ready yet. You'd have to give up the job.”

  She raises an eyebrow and taps the nightstick against her curvy hip.

  “You know I won't.”

  Then it's time to tell the truth.

  “If you don't then I won't give you a baby. I can't be a single dad and your job is too risky.”

  Again we stare at each other.

  “You are serious?”

  “100%”

  Jenny slides down on the side of the bed and stares at me. We don't say a word until the woman stands and squares her shoulders.

  “I love you, Charley Marone, and I'm willing to put up with a lot from you, but this is not going to happen. You aren't going to ruin my dream of a house, kids and you as my husband.”

  I spoke honestly and here she is doing it too. The husband thing has been discussed, but I didn't realize that she had a house and kids with an s on the end in mind.

  “I---”

  Strolling over, she covers my mouth and then reaches into the drawer on her side of the bed.

  “You aren't going to take this from me, Charley. I won't let you.”

  The roll of duct tape surprises me when I see it taken from the drawer. Before I can do or say anything, my lips are sealed with a strip of silver tape.

  “It's convenient that you've been letting everything hang out,” she purrs, the woman's firm hand coming down to my flaccidness and working it in long slow strokes that is reversing the effect rather quickly.

  “You never could resist my hand job,” Jenny says in triumph when my cock is standing long and proud to the ceiling.

  “Please...” I mumble, “This might not be a good idea.”

  I watch on as she slowly slips down her work trousers to show me something that has me hard as an ice pick.

  “I tidied it today.”

  Bare as a baby's bottom at 32: This woman is taking no prisoners.

  “You always talk about how it makes you hot.” Her fingers stroke along my face lovingly. “Are you hot right now, baby?”

  I groan and my cock jerks. Jenny glances at it then meets my eyes once more.

  “Looks like he likes it a lot.”

  Jenny slips over top of me. I can see her cute pussy just an inch from my naked cock. We never do it raw and the thought of entering her without some protection is both heady and scary.

  “I don't get a choice?” I try to say.

  Tapping my cheek twice, Jenny chuckles – a sweet wet sound – and spreads her pussy lips in a way that shows the pink and nearly sends my body over the edge.

  “You don't want one.”

  In one sliding motion, my girlfriend, who I love deeply and can't keep my hands off on a normal day, takes my hard cock into her sweet cunt.

  “SHIT!”

  This is heard clearl
y for both of us. Jenny's face starts to flush and mine is sweating. THIS is what her pussy feels without the barrier of a condom. It's hot and wet and curved and smooth. I'm in heaven.

  “Cum for me, honey.”

  I said that I don't get a choice and I was right. This gorgeous pussy of hers is eating away at my mental stamina. Jenny's sexy ass pounding down over and over on my thighs with a loud slap every time it connects is arousing. The whole inside of her pussy is tensing and contracting in ways that I have never felt before. I stare at her big tits bouncing about and know there is no way to avoid this.

  “Yes!” I moan.

  My orgasm is long. It's a rich sensation that starts very slow and then builds and builds like a mountain rising up from the earth to reach the clouds above. When I cum, it is like the firing of a cannon. The aftershocks are just as powerful.

  “One more,” Jenny begs, “I'm so close.”

  I take strike after strike. The sexy woman rips open her shirt and strokes and rubs her big tits in front of my eyes. There's no hope of me losing my erection now. The way that Jenny is fondling her own nipples is hot. I can barely think until...

  “Ohhhh---”

  It's a long rowdy orgasm that is nothing more than a single long squirt.

  “I got your baby,” Jenny whispers, lying on my chest and smiling happily. “You'll have to marry me now.”

  I stare at her. I guess she has a point.

  I mumble at her and she rips off the tape in one long painful movement.

  “I'll think about it,” I say.

  The tape goes back on. We aren't done yet.

  3

  HOW HE DECIDED

  In their small home many years later...

  With a rub of Jenny's rounded stomach, I take my briefcase and head for the door.

  “You two have a nice day,” I call to the lounging mother and her baby-to-be.

  Coming out on to the street, I wave to a few cops over the road and walk over to the car park where my brand new family wagon is parked. I get inside, turn the key and pull out onto the road. My phone beeps.

  “Will you marry me?” I read outloud.

  I shake my head. It's only been 7 months, but I guess it's time.

  Okay, I text back.

  Just like that I joined all those other fools that agree to marry their loved ones over text. It doesn't feel so bad from where I'm sitting.

  The End

  On The Balcony

  Big Down There 2

  Book 1

  A Coffee House Affair

  MY EYES CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF HIM.

  Jack Barrels stands behind the large black and silver metal coffee machine, his large heavy set arms working the small handles of the espresso groups, twisting, turning, ejecting and inserting. The muscularity of his tanned forearms is such that the barbed rose vine tattoo that runs up the right side one from wrist upwards to under his shirt looks almost real; its vibrant reds and low skin tanned greens vibrating in the winds of the man's movements.

  "Espresso - double," the customer decides.

  "Yes, sir," I pipe out.

  Click, click, ching, money. Another order in on a crazy busy day at the cafe I have been working at for about a year full time. Why did everyone decide to come to the sea on my day off? I was supposed to be out there surfing the waves, not thinking about Harry (my ex-boyfriend of two weeks) and just generally getting the stresses and strains of life and the week out of my system on the cusp of a good wave or two. I'm definitely not supposed to be perving at the weekend barista (the handsome Mr. Barrels), who I had heard about but never actually met. I wonder if I should be happy or not about the turn of events.

  A couple strolls in. The guy is stall with brown hair and a slightly nerdy look. His eyes are brown and his clothing posh-cool. For a moment I think that it is Harry, but the cheek bones and the accessories are wrong. My chest clenches and I find a tear forming.

  "Earth to Sally. You ok, babe?"

  Jack's finger poking my shoulder makes me jump.

  "Sorry?"

  "You were spacing out," he says, looking a little amused, perhaps not knowing about the break up with Harry yet, as most of the staff do thanks to me harping on about it every day of the week, a few times a day. "We have coffee to go out."

  I notice the double espresso, latte and cappuccino with cinnamon that are waiting. He loaded them onto a tray, which means he is worried about me. They never do that unless they think the server is likely to dump something on a customer or the floor.

  "I'm sorry. My mind is elsewhere today. I'll take these out."

  I grab them up and he nods in understanding before turning back to the digital screen and clearing the orders that I am picking up.

  Walking out front into the small, packed front area, I look to the couple just settling in and checking the food menu. Harry, John Barrels, the waves I missed and a hard day at the cafe. What a life.

  End Of Shift

  SECRETLY WATCHING HIS BUTT IS NOT EASY.

  The day is over, the customers gone and I am trying not to (or should I say MOSTLY not to) watch Jack's ass through the black slim jeans that he is wearing.

  The damp wiping cloth that I have in my hand goes round and round on the top of the table I am cleaning. It's been doing that for a little too long now and I know that it's time to do the next; however, this angle is just perfect.

  Jack is moving along the counter fixing up the cookie display. His butt cheeks are like two tigers rolling around in full fight under the great sun burnt grass plains of Africa - to put it metaphorically. His back tapers up under his black shirt, which is a little tight for his large size, and I can see the sides of it drawing up and out in a large V shape from midback.

  He glances back over his shoulder slightly and smirks at me.

  "Take a picture. It'll last longer," he comments.

  I nearly jump out of my skin. He can see me? I quickly get to wiping, my face burning bright red under my strong tan. How did he know?

  Glancing up, I see it. The coffee machine has a silver steel rim running around it. He would have been able to see me from this angle from where he was standing.

  "You want to tell me why you have been spacing out today?" he asks, not turning as he continues his work.

  I think it over. What do I want to tell him? I mean, it's pretty clear that I like what I see. Do I want to ruin all hope of whatever might come of that by telling him that my ex-boyfriend sat me down two weeks ago and in the politest way possible told me it 'wasn't working out' and he wanted to 'move on with his life', which was just an excuse for him to date Cindy, a Russian girl from his university classes, who I actually feel isn't that pretty, but is way smarter than me, which is something Harry strongly prefers.

  "I'm just having one of those days," I say.

  "Really? Doesn't seem like it."

  My ear catches his tone. There's more than just casual interest here.

  "It could be because I was supposed to be taking the day off, I guess. I'm not used to working Saturdays."

  "Aw, weekend got you down, huh?"

  "You could say that."

  He turns and leans back against the counter. I note the way his chest pops out. My eyes briefly travel lower: My, my, my, Mr. Barrels, do you have a six pack?

  "What would you have rather been doing?"

  "Surfing."

  There's no other thing IN THE WORLD I would rather be doing at any time, over any other activity, than that.

  "That's cool. I've never done surfed. I don't get much free time with the other job."

  "You have two jobs?"

  He laughs.

  "You think I make enough money on just doing this one time per week?"

  "Ah... yeah, good point."

  Jack grins and I warm up a little inside. You could describe it as the physical sensation of sudden excitement in reaction to the direct stimulus of perfect white teeth and good dentistry.

  "I'm an intern at my dad's company."

 
; "Wow, that's lucky. What does he do? Anything fun?"

  "Tax law mostly," Jack admits with a shrug that says he doesn't feel one way or another about it.

  I stop wiping the table I'm on to and lick my lips. This is like chic-crack. The man is admitting to a 'sure thing' job in an industry with HUGE earning potential and also looks like he could bench press me with ease.

  "That's interesting," I say, hoping to prove a hypothesis that is forming in me rather quickly.

  "Not really," he says with a small upward jerk of the left side of his mouth that speaks volumes.

  The conversation flitters off as he turns back to tidying. I nod my head once in confirmation. It's certain: Jack is interested in me.

  My mind turns to the ramifications of this fact. There's no way that a guy first takes an interest in my well being, is pushy about inquiring over it (someone has obviously told him about Harry it would seem), tells me that he's got a BIG paying job in his future and THEN closes off the conversation to INTENTIONALLY let me stew over it.

  I check that butt. Alright, big boy, I've had a few boyfriends and I'm not some virgin maiden. Let's see if I can't stir something up here.

  "Hey, Jack..."

  "Yeah?"

  "What are you doing after this?"

  "I have some work to do for dad, but nothing special."

  "Oh... that's nice."

  I clean the next table. That was the opening strike. Will he respond?

  A few seconds later he does.

  "Why do you ask?" he says, after walking around to finish cleaning the coffee machine.