About Men In Uniform
edited by M. Rode
154 pages / 58700 words
ISBN: 1-933389-86-9
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Hot cops? Firemen on a mission? Army guys who want to get out there and be all they can be? You got it. Men in Uniform is an anthology about just those kinds of hot men, all in one place.
Featuring Torquere regulars like Sean Michael and Julia Talbot as well as new authors Jennifer Joyce and Teresa Noelle Roberts, Men in Uniform gives us all the hot uniformed and undressed action we can stand. Tory Temple's firemen make an appearance, and many more. Check it out today.
Review
Review by James Buchanan
James Buchanan, author of My Brother, Coyote, writes: Everyone loves a man in uniform. Whether its chefs, firemen, or animal control officers with dog collars who turn your crank, you’ll find something in this collection of shorts to like. There’s drama and comedy, contemporary and science fiction rounding out the collection of seventeen stories. I have my personal favorites, When the Uniform Comes Off by Vic Winter with its amusing twist on the stripper theme, Jane Davitt’s air force recruiter and professor combo in Job Satisfaction and the gruff, short-timer dogged by his over eager replacement from Julia Talbot’s One Month, One Day, Fifteen Minutes. There’s even a little taste of the Jarheads for Sean Michael fans.
My only complaint was that I wanted more, of all of them… even the geeky cosplay boys.
Sample
From Slow Burn by Tory Temple:
“Ready for Open House?” Chance asked as soon as Tucker opened his eyes.
Tucker McBride groaned and covered his face with his pillow. “Goddamn. I nearly forgot.”
Chancellor Shanahan laughed and dragged the pillow off his partner’s head. Tucker was a good paramedic and loved his job, but the fire station’s Open House day was low on his list of fun things to do. “You’ll be all right,” Chance soothed, urging Tucker to turn to face him. “It’s only from ten to two.”
“All those fuckin’ mommas and kids climbin’ all over my engine,” Tucker groused. “Fuckin’ public.”
Chance raised an eyebrow. “The public you swore to serve and protect.”
“That don’t mean their kids can swarm all over me, askin’ for stickers,” he grumbled.
“What, departments in Kentucky didn’t have Open House?” Chance nudged his hips forward slightly, poking his morning erection into Tucker’s thigh.
Tucker nudged back, his cock equally as hard. “Always made sure I was off. Even called in sick once or twice. I got written up for it, but it was worth it. Fuckin’ Open House.” He sounded disgusted even as he let out a small sigh of pleasure, pushing insistently against Chance’s hip.
“Poor Tuck,” Chance murmured. “Rookies have it rough.” He started to rub in earnest, seeking more pressure.
“Not rough enough,” Tucker groaned. “More.”
Chance started to reach down for Tucker’s dick, wondering where he last left the lube, but Tucker stopped him with a shake of his head and a twinkle in his dark blue eyes.
“Nuh-uh. Just like this, no hands.”
Chance grinned and dropped a kiss on Tucker’s mouth, sliding a leg in between Tucker’s and fitting their bodies together like puzzle pieces.
From Worn With Pride by Sean Michael:
Man, they had some shit.
Rig pulled another box down from the top shelf in the closet, hunting an old pair of scrubs from back in nursing school. He seemed to remember them being perfect - not too big, not too small, not too itchy. Just right.
If he could find them, then he'd be able to order more for his hospital rounds.
He'd found a bunch of shit. Pictures. Newspapers. Medals. Some of Dick's old video games. Some Gun and Ammo mags of Rock's. Lots of shit.
He'd lost his shirt about a box and a half ago.
''Man, where are those fucking things...'' These were recipes and shit from Momma. Nothing he needed, but nothing he wanted to toss either, shit.
He climbed back on another box, hauled himself up again, using the closet rod for balance. Sure as shit, one of Rock's old dress uniform jackets came slip-sliding off its hanger, damn near knocking him over. Shit.
Heavy.
Damn.
He almost fell, tugging the jacket on rather than let it fall to the floor. God knew it was probably like some esoteric Marine law.
If the uniform touched the floor, the world would end and they'd cancel your pension.
Or burn your house.
He'd just grab this one box and then put the jacket back where it belonged.
''Shit, don't tell me it's spring cleaning time alrea...'' The gruff voice faded and he turned to find Rock standing in the doorway. ''You joining up?''
''Huh?'' He turned, looking under one arm, hands around the box. ''No. God, no. It was going to fall and I'd already climbed up here.'' Like they'd take his skinny ass.
From Skin by Alex Draven:
Mack stumbled out of his pod and down to the mess in a caffeine -- and sleep -- deprived haze. He and Beck had stayed up well into Delta Shift's active phase working out a search pattern for their next mission, determined to be ready to go the second they got the chance. Beck was a typical fly-girl, always eager to be off and doing, and, in fairness, it wasn't like Mack hated being out in the hover, even if they were searching for mineral deposits now, not enemy operatives. They still gave out honors and bounties, and as long as they were mapping the area his job wouldn't get boring.
Getting up within the personal prep phase of his designated shift time, though -- that got old real fast. Three hours sleep just wasn't enough to make the fluorescent lights and general noise of the mess anything but unpleasant. He'd pushed it as far as he could go, sleeping in ‘til the last second, and not bothering to find anything more elaborate than his regulation skinsuit to wear. He could hit the sonics and clean up later, when there was something in his stomach and his head had stopped pounding.
Which would happen sooner if there wasn't such a long line. The mess was a sea of mid-gray bodies. Mack scraped his palms over his stubble, and tried to will his mind to kick into gear as he listened idly to the chatter. Transport due in on Delta Shift's watch. Blah blah. Newbies, then: replacements and trainees and new crew for the expansion of the base. The briefing bulletins were always upbeat and factual, but for the past fifteen minutes the new guys had just been bodies in between Mack and breakfast, which made the expansion neutral-to-bad in his book.
He zoned out, shuffling forwards with the rest of the line, and the ensign on kitchen duty had to ask to get his order.
''Caff and oats, please.''
''Yes, sir.''
Mack blinked and stood straighter, and when his tray slid across the aluminum, held out his wrist for tag scanning, and then he walked away, rather than stumbled. He was only a Nav-Mech III, but he still outranked maybe half the people in here, and he owed it to them to make a decent showing, however rough he was feeling.
Beck and the rest of the fly-crew weren't anywhere he could see, and everyone he did recognize seemed to be boxed in by flocks of new faces, so he settled for the nearest empty seat, sliding into place with a vague “hi” to the strangers already there.
The first mouthful of caff was pure bliss. Mack closed his eyes and rolled the second around his mouth, the heat and the stimulants making his tongue tingle. The stuff didn't quite taste like anything he'd known in the outside world, but it hit the spot like nothing else.
''You enjoying that, huh?''
A deep voice interrupted Mack's contemplation of the world inside his eyeballs. He tried to reply by nodding without looking, but a mouthful later, curiosity got the better of him.
The guy had his arms folded on the table opposite, and he was looking at Mack with this smile, like… With this smile. Even white teeth and dark goatee, regulation hair, buzzed at the sides and longer on top, maybe a shade shorter than Mack, but built -- broad shoulders, solid forearms, wide, strong hands. He had a bright royal blue shirt over his skinsuit, but that didn't hide his collar-flashes. Not that they told Mack anything, because he didn't recognize the color combo at all. Left side of the high tight collar, so he wasn't an ensign or a grunt, but then no ensign or grunt would have dared to be so pally with him. And no one more than two grades up would have bothered.
''Keir,'' he introduced himself, holding out a hand. When Mack took it, his grip was firm but not macho-competitive like some guys.
''Mack. Nav-Mech officer on the exploration crew.''
''Nice to meet you, Mack. I'm one of the new guys on base. This place always so busy?''
''Nope.'' Mack took another sip of caff. ''It's all you new guys cluttering it up.'' He smiled to show that it was mostly a joke, and then more genuinely when Keir winked at him.
''Well, I better get my butt moving if I'm going to report on time -- see you around, Mack.''
And just like that, he was gone.