On the morning of my 21st birthday I became the youngest man to have ever pinned on the badge of an Oakland police officer. On that date, I could vote, I could legally drink, and I was armed.
The feel and cut of a police uniform, the smell and weight of leather belts, a holstered gun, highly polished black boots, the silver star over my left tit, and the requisite metal-rimmed dark glasses, assaulted my senses like an opiate each night in the police locker room. Overnight, I was inducted into a frenzied life of violence, risk, sexual exploration, and deception. I bonded with a group of men who fed a similar appetite.
I physically transformed myself by gaining forty pounds of lean hard muscle in the first year. The mental transformation was just as dramatic.
In the subterranean caverns of the Oakland YMCA I stood naked and dripping wet at the edge of the swimming pool. A man who recognized the growing hungers within me offered more than friendship. He was an Oakland Police lieutenant.
For the next three years, I literally stood shoulder to shoulder in uniform with other cops. I drank with other cops. I worked out in the gym with other cops. I attended college classes with other cops. I vacationed with other cops. I loved other cops.
The language isn’t flowery, the subject matter may be coarse, and the images may assault your sensibilities. Sometimes life hands us more than we could have imagined. I reveled in it.
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