My thing for men in uniform started in my 20s. If you want to get Freudian about it, it probably began in childhood, since the two prominent male figures in my life were both military. But the first man I remember being supremely attracted to who was military didn’t happen until I was much older.
It’s been a thing ever since.
There’s just something about the crisp lines, the order, and the power that just flat out does it for me. My inner cavewoman believes someone in uniform will know how to take control of any situation and just handle it.
Sometimes, my inner cavewoman needs to shut the hell up, but we’re working on that.
I’ve had good and bad experiences with guys in uniform; no different than any other subset of people I suppose.
All of my husbands, except for the first, have worn a uniform of some kind. United States Marine Corps, paramedic, firefighter, or all of the above.
When I first met my second husband, he was a paramedic in a large rural county. There was no hospital where we lived, not in the entire county actually. All patients had to be transported 30 minutes away to another county or 15 minutes away to another state.
There were a number of EMS stations placed throughout the county to better serve the residents. My husband only worked the main station, which happened to be next door to the county sheriff’s department and the state highway patrol station.
The city police were two doors down.
Needless to say, there were a lot of uniforms around all the time.
Most rural EMS employees work 24 hours on and 48 hours off. They have bedrooms at the station and can sleep after a certain time, barring no calls.
This station was no different. My husband had his own room, which he shared with another paramedic on a different shift, so he kept a computer and other personal items there to make it more comfortable.
After 3pm, they were allowed to be in their rooms for the remainder of their shift if they so chose.
The station had a state-of-the-art kitchen and some of the wives/girlfriends would come by and make dinner on occasion.
I was one of the nice wives.
It wasn’t altruism. There were some pretty hot paramedics working at the station I didn’t mind spending time with. Two, in particular, had crushes on me and I enjoyed watching them play out over time.
Both men were separated from their wives, interestingly, for the same reason. Although their wives knew what they did for a living, they became disenchanted with the 24 on, 48 off work schedule.
The shitty pay probably didn’t help.
One of the medics, Frank, worked randomly with my husband. His regular station was in another part of the county, but when someone needed time off at the main station, he would cover for them.
Because of the low pay, most medics were eager to cover someone’s shift in order to make an extra buck.
Frank is the guy everyone loves. He’s funny, witty, and gets along with anyone. My husband, on the other hand, was not that guy. He didn’t intentionally seek to offend people, but due to his Asperger’s, his lack of social skills turned people off from him.
But Frank never minded. He would partner with B without qualm.
I appreciated that more than I could express. It was difficult being the outgoing more social partner when no one cared for your spouse.
I was well-liked around the station, and not just for my assets.
Though I came to realize, my assets were enjoyed as well.
Frank and I became friends fairly quickly and he asked if it would be okay to text me when he wasn’t working. We talked extensively about his separation from his wife and he liked having someone listen to him.
I didn’t mind at all.
It wasn’t long before our discussions about a wayward wife, who was apparently cheating on him, turned sexual.
Frank and his wife had not been intimate in almost two years.
After the birth of their youngest child, she told him she wasn’t interested in sex any longer. Apparently, that just meant with him.
That’s enough to kill a man’s ego.
As we talked further, Frank admitted he wasn’t sure if he was a good lover. When he and his wife argued, she berated his skills in bed and degraded his size.
There’s nothing nastier than turning intimate knowledge of a person into a weapon when arguing.
This couple had been together for almost 20 years. Something was right for a long time to stay together that long.
Words hurt, especially when attacking someone’s manhood.
Or womanhood. I’ve had it happen to me and it’s something you don’t get over easily. You begin to question every encounter you’ve ever had.
It’s easier to accept you’re no good than it is to be built back up.
But I was determined to try.
Frank knew there could be nothing between us, save our friendship and sex. I made that clear as soon as our conversations turned in that direction. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt someone who was already so deeply hurt.
He needed someone to show him he was appreciated and not the negative things his wife was saying about him.
He was working one night at one of the outlying stations without a partner and we agreed I would come out to meet him. He was nervous and concerned he wouldn’t be able to satisfy me.
There’s was nothing for him to worry about.
Frank was not the largest guy I’ve ever been with, but he wasn’t the smallest either. He hit somewhere just below average, which works beautifully for me. I can do everything I want with his size and that always makes me smile.
The man clearly worked hard to be fantastic with his tongue and I’ll never know how someone could complain in that department.
We spent hours exploring one another. I can’t tell you how many orgasms I had, but I can say, every one of them was at his hands.
Men in uniform are hot and appear powerful and in control. But like anyone else, they can have insecurities and need attention and affection.
I’ll always have a special place in my heart for the guys who are vulnerable enough to share that side of themselves with me and allow me to set them free.