Lingam Rising

Lingam is best translated as ‘Wand of Light’. The phallic representation of the Hindu deity Lord Shiva, the lingam receives, stores, and generates life creating power. When aroused and engorged, it fills the recipient with pleasure and illumination. Every orgasm is a divine experience. And universal consciousness can only be achieved through the lingam.

USS Sims FF1059.

Completing his plebe year at Annapolis, Midshipman 4/c Chip Rayno reports aboard for youngster cruise. Homeported in Mayport Florida, the Knox-class frigate is named for Admiral William Sowden Sims, Commander US Naval Forces Europe during World War I.

Built by Avondale Shipyard, displacing 4,200 tons, the 438 foot vessel makes 27 knots. Performing an anti-submarine warfare mission, the fast frigate protects amphibious expeditionary forces, carrier battle groups, and merchant convoys.

Rayno is hand selected for the assignment.

A member of the Navigators, he worships divine masculinity and universal brotherhood. Rejecting the exhausted dogma of traditional thought, the secret society’s mission is the cultivation of a pervasive homosexual moral, cultural, and spiritual ethos in the Navy.

For the next six weeks the crew will indoctrinate him on shipboard equipment, operational procedures, unwritten Fleet rules, and deckplate life. Pursuing requisite qualifications, many lessons not found in any USNA syllabus will be imparted.

In turn, he’ll ignite a spiritual awakening.

* * *

Sims shifts colors and puts to sea.

Assigned to Deck Department, Rayno experiences enlisted servitude. Running with Boatswain’s Mates (BM), he works 12-hour shifts, stands 3-section bridge watch, and participates in special evolutions: sea & anchor detail, general quarters, and underway replenishments.

And there’s no doubt about it: enlisted life on a tin-can sucks.

Figuratively and literally.

Constrained at sea, sailors’ interactions quickly take alternative avenues. With traditional outlets unavailable, non-rates are by necessity vigorously pursued. Exercising appreciable skills, alpha males adroitly manipulate minions’ malleable masculinity.

Insatiable appetites are addressed as carnivores subjugate defenseless bottom dwellers. And while fresh seafood is delicious fare, tantalizing midshipmen, a seasonal delicacy not often found on the menu, always garners special attention.

Rayno understands the realities of life at sea: big fish eat little fish.

And few are smaller than a 4/c midshipman.

His civilian experiences in conjunction with skills honed at Annapolis have prepared him well. There’s nothing like the camaraderie, intimacy, and spirituality of sailing the high-seas with shipmates and brothers, rascals and rogues, and kindred souls.

He relishes the opportunity to suck them all.

And spread the gospel.

* * *

On the fantail a sailor smokes the day’s last cigarette.

Concupiscence stirs inside worn dungarees.

Hypnotically quiet, a blanket of solitude surrounds Sims as she traverses the blazing blackness. Amorphous luminescence drifts by on pellucid Caribbean waters. Beyond the horizon lurk uncharted phantom islands inhabited by revenants and demons.

Rayno materializes from an entanglement of moonlight and shadows.

A clandestine collaboration of convenience.

Taking station, he kneels between the sailor’s muscular thighs. No words are necessary. With steady hands he reverentially extracts the engorged lingam. Experiencing a spiritual convergence, he senses the power radiating from the earthly manifestation of divine will.

Leaning forward, he kisses the blood-engorged god. His tongue instinctively rolls around the glans and consumes the leaking hallucinogenic juices. The natural entheogen induces transcendence replete with synesthesia and altered time perception.

And he commences a spiritual journey.

Pressing firmly on Rayno’s head, the sailor forces himself deeper inside the mouth… seeking and finding quarters down the experienced throat. Surrounded by the immensity of sea and sky, feeling the presence of a higher power, he writhes in immutable pleasure.

The primal act transcends traditional boundaries of masculinity.

And both are connected to the mystical universe.

* * *

Sims is steaming in relatively shallow waters.

Lacking the calm deep of the abyssal plain, strong currents and winds can result in turbulent seas. In berthing compartments throughout the ship non-rates lacking sea-legs flounder… inadvertently attracting the attention of seasoned salts and seadogs.

A plethora of potential prey on parade.

For many innocence will not survive the night.

Deck Department’s berthing consists of 18 racks, standup lockers, a 3-foot square lounge table, and an adjoining head. Located forward of the beam and outboard of centerline, its inhabitants experience tumultuous linear motions and rotational forces about the ship’s transverse and longitudinal axes.

Naked sailors abound.

Cavorting with confidence, seadogs play grab-ass with younger shipmates. The candid homoerotic image, with subtle gradations of light and shadow, is reminiscent of fine art photography. And ample erections increase the eroticism of the composition.

Rayno visually gorges himself.

A profusion of magnificent cocks vie for his attention.

Mesmerized by pervasive masculinity, his spirit soars. Adorned with body-art, many sailors have dramatic and colorful tattoos. Deeply symbolic, intertwined with the mythology of the sea, it’s a tradition that has identified seafarers for millennia.

Several men have mermaids singing to passing ships. Born from the sea, linked with tragedy, mermaids represent the mythological forces of love, allure, and desire. Dangerous temptresses, legends maintain that they often lured sailors to their doom with seductive songs.

It’s a cautionary reminder that the search for love is a dangerous endeavor.

BM1 Bryant surveys the compartment.

Lounging sailors nonchalantly stroke shafts while perusing pornographic magazines - a favorite at-sea activity. Accentuating length and girth, they’re lost in reverie. Indifferent to spectators, they relish the freedom afforded by the exclusive all-male environment.

Not always a solitary endeavor, shipmates often lend a helping hand.

Bryant has a stunning muscular physique and exquisite whiskey complexion… the amalgamation of his mother’s Caribbean heritage and father’s African roots. A dangerous enslaver, his mysterious eyes are dark liquid pools that charm, captivate, and conquer inferior males.

Massive and disproportional, his shaft commands immediate respect. Reaching maximum tumescence - ten solid inches, it radiates furious focused energy. And like the duality of Brahma and Shiva, it possesses the power to simultaneously create and destroy.

1MC: ‘Taps, taps, lights out, the smoking lamp is out, all-hands turn into their own racks. Now taps’.

The ballistic watertight hatch is dogged. White florescent overheads secured. Nighttime red-globed lights energized. Secluded and isolated below the waterline, vibrations reverberate through the shell plating and longitudinal stringers as water rushes past the hull.

Infectious excitement floods the compartment.

The pungent perfume of male sweat and testosterone is palpable.

Experiencing an elevated pulse, Rayno’ body radiates a deeply evocative woodsy scent. The alluring fragrance of Polo cologne by Ralph Lauren. It’s a carefully constructed blend of masculine notes. Leather. Tobacco. Wood. And oak moss undertones.

Feeding on communal energy, sailors with growing grins and erections exchange conspiratorial nods. They maneuver towards Rayno’s bottom rack. Unable to contain their enthusiasm, they shiver from anticipation of the evening’s planned festivities.

Bryant commences the proceedings.

“Midshipman, it’s time to welcome you to the Fleet. Front and center.”

Rayno willingly vacates his rack. Standing at parade rest in front of the excited assemblage, he crisply snaps arms behind his back and spread his feet shoulder width apart. Head straightforward with eyes gazing at destiny. He knows what to expect.

Prior to departing Annapolis several firsties briefed him on the ubiquitous fleet initiation. Eagerly performed on midshipmen, the ceremony commemorates the glorious transformation from contemptible landlubber to respectable fleet sailor.

Submission, humility, and rebirth are central themes in the ritual.

Clad in blue and gold USNA crested tee-shirt and shorts, he’s oddly out of place… one of the few non-naked occupants in the compartment. The incongruity is quickly remedied by the men. After a brief entanglement of appendages all clothing is discarded.

Naked, he’s a tabernacle of physical perfection. Cerulean blue eyes. Luscious lips. Golden curly hair. Flawless bronzed complexion. Chiseled chest. Nubile nipples. Striated abdomen. Narrow waist. Generous genitalia. Alluring ass. Corded quadriceps. Sensual feet.

The cynosure of enlisted eyes, the sailors stare in awe, lost in the adoration of masculine beauty. A gratification of the senses, visually feasting on the perfectly proportioned body, they’re captivated like the Roman Emperor Hadrian by the Greek youth Antinous.

“Get him ready,” Bryant commands.

The spell breaks.

Knowing the routine, sailors escort the midshipman to the small lounge table. Confined in close quarters, their tumescence press against his sensuous body. Taking extensive liberties, inquisitive calloused hands explore the luxurious landscape.

Awakened and engorged with life forces, Rayno’s lingam rises. Twitching with expectation, a small glistening pearl emerges. Not surprisingly, like many midshipmen, he harbors a compelling fantasy of being forcibly stripped and publicly paraded by enlisted men.

Placed atop the lounge table, he is spread out like a Sunday after-church dinner. Gathering around with floodlight-wide eyes, the famished diners visually gorge themselves on the comestibles.

“This is so awesome,” exclaims a smirking BMSN.

“Get your camera,” a BM2 tells a shipmate.

A sailor moves between the midshipman’s spread legs. Running trembling fingers through Rayno’s pubic bush, enjoying the tactile sensation, he’s eager to shear the boy. Employing heavy-duty Wahl clippers, he skillfully removes the dense outcrop of androgenic hair.

The depilation ceremony continues as Rayno is generously slathered in Barbasol shaving cream… an emulsion of oils, surfactants, and alcohol. Singing the famous jingle, employing a well-honed straight razor, with lethal efficiency the sailor eradicates all evidence of the hard earned virility.

Reduced to prepubescence, Rayno is symbolically emasculated.

Jubilant sailors cheer as cameras flash.

The boy’s comportment surprises the sailors.

Most midshipmen struggle and protest the proceedings. But not Rayno. Enjoying himself, he’s grinning and laughing like a grade school kid on the first day of summer vacation. Embracing the moment, his extraordinary character, class, and candor leave a lasting impression.

He understands the importance of ritual in the Navy. Creating a tangible connection to the past, it elevates current consciousness to achieve attunement with organizational values. Playing his part, he’s proud to be on display for the men’s enjoyment and spiritual enrichment.

“Take him to the head,” orders Bryant.

And the procession vacates the berthing compartment.

* * *

The small head with brown speckled terrazzo deck contains one water closet, two urinals, two showers, and three sinks. Maneuvering around the fixtures, the excited pack of sea dogs position Rayno inside a stainless-steel shower stall.

“On your knees,” directs a BM2 with authoritative timbre.

“Hands behind your back,” barks another.

Without hesitation Rayno descends with equanimity. Showing respect, he signals submission to the superior males. With head bowed, peaceful and contemplative, meditating like a disciple at Gethsemane, he silently recites the Midshipmen’s Prayer.

Exercising leadership, walking in the authority he has earned, Bryant holds up his hands and quells the shivaree… commanding silence from his excited subordinates. Jockeying for unobstructed views, sailors grin with the knowledge of the events about to transpire.

Rituals and rites of passage are vital to a sailor’s evolution.

They emphasize shared identity.

Spinning a yarn, the BM1commences the transformative ceremony.

“Since the dawn of time sailors have been protected by Aeolus, god and ruler of the winds. His mistress Eos, goddess of the dawn. And their progeny the Anemori. We pray this humble offering finds favor and brings fair winds. We beseech the Four Winds, Boreas the North Wind, Notus the South Wind, Zephyrus the West Wind, and Eurus the East Wind: grant us safe passage and good fortune on this voyage.”

With the power vested in him as a First Class Petty Officer, Bryant incants undecipherable ancient verses. Communicating with the gods he intercedes on Rayno’s behalf. Obtaining a favorable outcome, he suddenly unleashes a powerful golden stream… symbolically baptizing Rayno.

The warm torrent christens the initiate’s forehead and runs down the radiant face. Entering his mouth, transformed, the wine’s unique gout de terroir resonates on his palate.

“Welcome to the Fleet Midshipman Rayno.”

He’s now a member of the mystery cult of Aeolus - obedient servant of wind and wave.

Applause erupts from the appreciative audience. Stepping up to the stall, additional sailors contribute to the holy consecration. Aiming with purpose, they take turns at the ritual anointment, releasing a deluge. Drenching the boy’s rapturous face.

The procession continues unabated for several minutes.

Once complete, Rayno is ritualistically washed.

Standing under a steaming showerhead, soapy enlisted hands explore ever every inch of his body. Paying particular attention to the inviting ass, sailors compete to breach the oculus. Sliding fingers deep inside, they properly prepare the pliant passageway.

Shampooed and washed, transformed and reborn, Rayno is escorted by jubilant sailors back to the berthing compartment. With the ceremonial formalities completed the initiation transitions to the next glorious phase.

* * *

“Let’s get your certification started,” asserts BM1 Bryant.

“Oh hell yeah! Finally,” exclaims an excited shipmate.

Rayno willingly descends to his knees. Secure in his faith, he dutifully embraces the opportunity to demonstrate unwavering commitment to masculinity. Advancing the sacred proselytical mission, he’ll become the vessel for enlisted seed.

Sailors tremble with excitement.

Bryant confidently strides forward. As the senior petty officer and deckplate leader, the first feeding is his inherent right. Taking charge and enormous pleasure, he smacks his massive appendage across Rayno’s face and positions the swollen bulbous glans on the boy’s lips.

A veteran at feeding midshipmen, he expects significant force and persistence will be required to secure quarters inside the diminutive mouth. Fortunately, neither is in short supply. Feared and respected by his men, many have been on the receiving end of a brutal, impossible feeding.

Rayno has seen thousands of cocks.

But few rival Bryant’s behemoth.

The attraction is undeniable. Taking a deep breath, he inhales the powerful pheromones. The volatilized chemical compounds enflame his qi and energy flows through internal pathways. Extending his tongue, he caresses the spongy head and savors the addictive leaking juices. 

Displaying equal parts determination and skill, he opens wide like an ophidian with cranial kinesis. Meeting the challenge head on, transcending physical limitations, he engulfs the lingam’s swollen crown until it finds sanctuary inside the welcoming mouth.

“Hell yeah. It’s in!” a sailor announces.

Impressed, sailors offer enthusiastic congratulations. Occupying all available real estate, the expansive lingam is wedged tightly between tongue and upper palate. Compressing the tonsils and uvula, it’s housed exactly where the universe commands.

Savoring the sensation, rocking hips slowly but insistently, Bryant works another few inches inside the receptive mouth. Navigating the restricted channel, steadily advancing forward, the flared head approaches the throat’s precipice.

At this point he typically runs aground.

Wedged like a cork in a wine bottle, the enormous head hermetically seals constricted passageways, preventing forward progress. Lacking ability and conviction, suffocating subordinate sailors always petition for mercy with pleading tearful eyes.

But not Rayno.

He defies conventional expectations.

Expanding his mind and throat, calming the turbulence, he confidently steps beyond corporeal limitations into the still point of the turning universe. Lunging forward, impaling himself, he audaciously swallows the whole cock. Balls deep.

The astonished audience gasps in shock.

“God damn. He took the whole fucking thing!” a BM3 shouts.

“Fuck. That’s impossible,” exclaims another.

Bryant is stunned. But the proof is there: lips stretched around the thick base, shaft clearly visible down the bulging neck, bulbous glans protruding below the Adam’s apple.

For years the Southern Baptist petitioned with prayer to know the glory of deep physical unification. But he never expected intercession. With prayers answered, he experiences a paradigm shift and spiritual awakening. And the pervasive presence of a superior power is palpable.

Flooded with endorphins, expanding mindfulness, attaining a state of heightened awareness, his faith in divine masculinity is ignited. Submersed in soothing flowing energy, contemplating the congruence of circumstances, he is captivated by the synchronicity of existence.

Everything in the universe is pulsating, vibrating, dancing.

Imbued with grace, Rayno’ bright eyes radiate benevolence. Increasing suction, with balls two-blocked against his chin, his throat lovingly massages the tumescent lingam. In direct communication with the universal consciousness, he intones thoughts of harmony and peace.

Thrusting in-and-out, Bryant is driven by impulses inherent in the rhythm of the universe. The alluring and flawless dance, like gravitationally bound galaxies waltzing across the cosmos, inspires profound wonder and gratitude for the mystery and miracle of existence.

“Getting close,” Bryant advises.

A prodigious spewer, he shivers, stiffens, and delivers his celestial gift. Filling Rayno with baryonic matter created eons ago by exploding progenitor supernova, the eternal sustenance is ultimately provided by a generous and nurturing universe.

Feasting, Rayno devours the quintessence of life.

Proclaiming the wonder, Bryant invites shipmates to experience the rapture.

Word quickly spreads. Sailors searching for redemption hear the clarion call. Taking a leap of faith, revitalizing body, mind, and spirit through communion with the midshipman, they experience unparalleled clarity and deliverance.

Ritual and religion launch a revolution. 

Rippling throughout the Fleet, enlisted lingam rise in unison… transforming the Navy.

Comments and readers’ experiences with sailors, afloat or ashore, are always of interest.