My story "NAUTICAL INCHES" covers the experiences I had on the largest Naval Base I visited. This story, from my journals, covers an earlier time spent on a smaller, but very active, Naval Base. While there are obvious similarities, the sailors I met here are very memorable.
I had stumbled across the glory hole by chance, in the days when giving head to a sailor was a matter of national pride; his need hard, insistent, and throbbing; your duty clear. I'd had to take a piss real bad one morning just before lunchtime, so I'd stopped at the Naval Exchange building on the large base I was temporarily assigned to, and had asked a sailor where the Men's Room was.
He had given me a big grin and had looked me up and down before telling me it was over past the barbershop, right next to the Snack Bar. Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, he had said, "Gimme a minute, and I'll give ya' some." He had walked away before I could do more than let my mouth drop open in surprise.
I didn't have to get a written invitation to realize that I had just been offered a chance to have some fun, and I hurried off in the direction he indicated. Before I reached the men's room, my pants were ballooning out in front from the full erection I had sprung just from guesswork I was making about the sailor's remark.
Walking down the sidewalk towards the toilet was unforgettable. Because of the hardon, which I couldn't hide, I felt that every eye was on me, that everyone could see my boner, and that every passerby knew my destination and knew my intention. At any moment I had expected someone to cry out, "Hey, look, everybody. There goes a cocksucker!" Courage to keep going came entirely from my cock, which seemed to be saying to me, "Fuck 'em, we're going into that toilet." I've never had success arguing with my cock.
The next few minutes seemed a blur to me, they had happened so fast and I had been so nervous. But the details of the first of my many visits to that "head" are seared into my memory as though they happened this morning.
The door I pushed open, marked "MEN" in letters so faded I noticed them only as my hand touched the door, momentarily allowed daylight into a small, dark, windowless room as I hurried in. It took a moment to become accustomed to the dimness of the place. It was illuminated by one 60-watt bulb that hung, naked, from an unusually high ceiling, about 10 feet overhead.
Directly in front of me against the far wall was a wash basin with a small mirror. Both were very clean, I noticed.
Taking up about one-third of the room were two adjacent toilet booths made of wood, with wooden doors. In an alcove, where a third toilet could have been put, was an open cubicle with one small urinal.
As I tried to take the pee I had needed to take, forcing myself to concentrate for a moment on relaxing my erection, but mostly pissing through the hardon, I instinctively checked the wooden partition next to the urinal. There was no glory hole - not even a peephole.
I washed at the sink, checking myself in the mirror and thinking, "Gee, I don't look like a cocksucker."
I checked the two toilet booths. First, I had to bend way, way down to get a look under the low partitions. No feet. It occurred to me that the partitions were cleverly designed if it was so difficult to see under them. An innocent by-stander would be unable to see the direction feet were pointing unless he went to some real bother to check.
I opened the wooden door nearest the wash basin. No squeak and no lock. Very dim. I looked around the door and there it was in the wall. A glory hole!
The smooth, round, well-crafted 4-inch circle, cut through the 3/4-inch wooden partition, was positioned in such a way that a man sitting on the commode could lean slightly forward and downward to his left and "work" the hole. I pressed my hand against the wall. There was some "give", but the wall was solid.
My crotch fit exactly to the level of the hole, and I reached up and was able to grab the top beam of the partition with my fingertips. "Perfect," I thought, "someone shorter can stand on tiptoes to reach it, someone taller can grab on and swing. Nothing like a well-placed beam to hang from when you want to shove your cock that fraction further into the hole without losing your balance or finding your hands in the way. Nothing like being suspended in air, feet off the ground, when you shoot a heavy load, pumping against a pliable wooden partition."
I moved to the second toilet, wondering which one I should take. The door squeaked loudly as I pushed it open. There was a latch. "Hmm," I thought, "if I'm in the other one, I'll hear when someone comes in or goes out of this one. If they've stuffed toilet paper into the hole to block it up, like some shit-heads do, then I'll know when they're leaving. Good." I wasn't a stranger to public toilets having glory holes, and I knew what I was checking for.
Inside the second toilet cubicle, I looked at the other side of the hole. It was even smoother, sanded and rubbed to a high polish, flared and larger than on the far side, with no risk of getting a splinter in a tender part of the anatomy.
Large, bold letters, just above the hole, said "SHOW HARD" and a heavy line ending with an arrowhead pointed directly to the hole.
There was too much writing scribbled all over the walls to read all of it that first day, but what really took my breath away was a huge drawing, perhaps 3 feet x 3 feet square, of five naked men arranged in a sort of standing daisy-chain, circle-jerk. Each figure could have been done by Tom of Finland, they were so well drawn, perfectly proportioned and heavily cocked. Two were being sucked, and three were jacking-off, with two showing voluminous, spurting orgasms. They were having a great time.
I wanted to stay in that second booth, but I realized I belonged in the first one. "The drawing gives fellows something to stimulate their imaginations with while they sit here wondering what to do," I reasoned.
I was struck by the excellence of planning and design of the small room, as I went back into the first booth. Whoever was in charge knew what his customers wanted and liked, and made it available right down to the heavy odors of recent sex that permeated the dark place.
My pants and underpants slid down to my ankles. My full standing erection appreciated the removal of the confining clothing and pulsated in anticipation. I had opened my shirt partway up from the bottom. I began a leisurely masturbation.
I reminded myself that this was a military base and some precaution had to be taken in the event that the next visitor might be there just for a crap, oblivious to the sexual environment around him, wondering why the hole was there. It happened like that sometimes. I was certain that a secret set of rules and codes were used, and I meant to learn them all.
The commode seat was cool, clean. With my eyes accustomed to the dimness, I read many of the messages on the walls. They were all short, and to-the-point. "Show it Hard for Blow-Job", "Put Hardon through Hole", "I Want to Suck Your Cock", "Be Here at ##:00", the numbers written over so often that the time couldn't be read. And many more.
There was a precision to them that made me feel someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make certain anyone sitting there would be clear about one thing, the hole was there for a reason: cocksucking, active and passive.
"Ah, The Military," I thought, "bless 'em! They like clear and precise instructions. I'll bet they even studied the average floor-to-crotch height of the typical 20-year-old and used that figure to measure to the center of the hole."
Other less predominant messages written on the walls caught my attention. Some were serious:
"Where were you on Tues. I waited 2 hours."
"Got 8 hard inches for a hot mouth".
"I Need It Now, I'm Hot".
Some were meant to be serious:
"For Good Blow Job Call Carol".
"I'm from South Dakota".
"Be here 0600 tomorrow.
Some were funny:
"I was going to suck it, but it came all over my pants legs before I made up my mind."
"If no one shows up soon, I'm going to suck it myself."
and the classic:
"My mother made me a homosexual."
"If I give her the yarn will she make me one, too?"
But the ones that turned me on were those, near the toilet, which read like train timetables:
4/6 8 4
5/1 8 11
5/2 8 9
5/3 8 16 and on and on
It occurred to me that these were testimonials to the success of the place, translating to read: "On April 6th, I ate four cocks. On May 1st, I ate eleven cocks." I was astounded! Were these just masturbatory fantasies by a dreamer, or were they to be found to contain some truth?
"May 3rd, I had sixteen," I read. I couldn't believe that it was possible to have the opportunity to handle that many cocks in one day, or have the presence of mind to keep track of the count, or the strength left to write about it.
I noticed another exciting thing about the toilet walls inside the booth. There were many long stains on them, especially under the glory hole. They looked like cum stains, dripped from cocks being sucked or jacked-off through the hole, or splashed up onto the walls by fellows who jacked-off when no cocksucker was around to service them. Or spurted onto the wall by the cocksucker himself while receiving a hot load – as I have done often enough.
Suddenly, sunlight from the outside lit up the room for an instant, as someone came quickly into the toilet. The door to my booth was pushed gently open. I was scared, but my cock just stood there taking it all in.
I was relieved and pleased to see that it was the good looking sailor who had given me directions. He was staring directly at my cock.
"Great head, ain't it?" he whispered. "I can see that you're all set." He pushed his crotch towards me, saying, "So am I. Want it here?"
"Yeah, I do," I lied, "but I'm scared we'll get caught. Maybe it's better if you go into the next booth."
"Well, Okay, buddy," he smiled, "that's cool, but don't worry. The Navy puts the heat on once in a while, but nothing will happen for several months, now that they got a carrier and some of its escort craft coming in for repairs."
"What do you mean?" I whispered back.
"Shit, man," he laughed, "this place gets so busy when the big ships are in, they'd have a riot if they tried to stop the lines that form waiting for a blow job from 'you guys'." He raised his eyebrows suggestively a couple of times to accentuate the "you guys".
More questions came to mind, but my young friend was palming the front of his navy blues with increasing eagerness, and I kept staring at the growing bulge.
"Want a little?" he asked, a sexy gleam in his eye.
My mouth opened, my tongue came out and I nodded my head.
He undid the front of his pants, reached way in, and tugged to get his straining erection out through the opening, dancing a bit as he worked at it.
What can I say? I fell in love with this cute, sexy, energetic, young sailor.
A handsome, large, well-formed heavy cock sprang out, standing straight. He thrust his hips towards me.
"Whew!" I sighed, pursing my lips and blowing hot breath onto his hard meat, watching him shudder at the feel of it. "That's a beauty," I praised.
"Suck it, now," he said huskily.
My tongue darted out. He leaned way into the cubicle, one hand on the top of the door, the other on his cock, pointing it at my mouth.
My tongue touched the dry, smooth knob. He gasped, "Yeah, suck it!"
I swished my tongue over the red cockhead, quickly, then drew the whole thing into my mouth in one greedy, noisy slurp and sucked on the plum shaped glans. He breathed, "That's it, man."
Suddenly, he pulled out. He grinned. "You're great! Hold on, I'll go into the next booth, so we won't worry that we'll get caught."
"What if someone does come in?" I asked, still concerned about the risks of getting caught sucking cock in a military toilet.
"No shit, I'm telling you to RELAX, man," he smiled. "The only dudes coming in here now, will be coming in for their daily blow jobs, and they'll just wait patiently until we've finished." He paused, then grinned, saying, "Well, at least until I'm finished. They'll want you to stick around to service their meat, too."
"Man, I can't believe it," I whispered.
"In fifteen minutes," he grinned, "if you're still here, there'll be a line of guys waiting to get a nut. More than you can eat."
"I'll do my best!" I laughed. He grinned, backing out of the cubicle, his cock still standing straight up, uncovered.
The squeak on the next booth's door had a tremendous effect on me. It was sexual music, telling me "Here comes this hot, sexy sailor, anxious to get his meat back into your mouth."
He didn't latch his door, I noticed.
Leaning down to look through the hole, I saw that he had slipped his trousers to his knees, and he was pushing down his boxer shorts with one hand while pulling up his jumper with the other, slowly shuffling his feet toward the glory hole.
His cockhead was shiny with my saliva. It glowed in the soft light. Soft, brown cock hair on his hard abdomen displayed and highlighted the large, stiff shaft. His heavy scrotum with its two huge balls swayed, as the cock came closer to the hole, closer to my waiting lips.
Before it reached the hole, the sailor leaned down and peered through to me with a grin and asked, "Ready, man?" He gave me the impression that he was really having a good time at this and was hoping that I was enjoying myself, too. His casual, playful attitude was a real turn-on for me. It evaporated my worries about being caught.
I grinned back through the hole, and trying to match the spirit of the play, said, "Yeah, man, I want that hot cock back in my mouth now!"
He loved it. Mumbling something like, "All right", he fed his cock slowly through the hole. I loved watching it come through. He had had to push it down with one hand, aiming it into the hole, but when the thick shaft was mainly through, he let go and it sprang up, the cum-hole on the tip pointing right at the ceiling.
I said, "Whew!" again, blowing onto the hot meat.
He whispered, loudly, "Suck It!"
It looked so good standing up out of the hole that I wanted to stare at it, to play with it, to fondle it, and make love to it, to him. But he wanted in. I opened by mouth and licked the knob, running my tongue under the flange of the corona, while my fingers played at the base, drawing the skin down the shaft. I kissed the tip, sucking gently on the cum-slit. A dollop of pre-cum was drawn out. The delicious, thick nectar sparked a flame in me to give my best effort in sucking this great cock.
I sucked in the cockhead and ran my tongue around it almost harshly, causing him to gasp. With great concentration, I slowly forced my head down over the cock, pushing the hot meat slowly into my mouth and down, into my throat. I swallowed. He pulled back and shoved forward, causing the cock to go farther into my throat. I swallowed again. He pulled back and shoved forward, this time driving the cock in almost to the hilt.
He started making thrusting motions with his hips, pushing against the wooden wall, making it creak loudly. My fingers were able to play with his balls through the hole, simultaneously rubbing the base of his cock.
I heard him grab the top of the partition, and received another hard jab from him. The cock went in all the way, my lips pushing into the hole between us, my nose pressed against the smooth edge of the hole, its tip being tickled by his cockhair. Several short thrusts followed, as he dangled from the beam.
"Shit, man, this is great," he called over the partition. "Are you ready for a load?"
"Umm hmm", I hummed to his cock, vibrating it.
"Then here it comes," he cried, as he crashed his body into the partition with a violent last thrust through the hole, breathing noisily.
Just as the first wild spurt of cum was stretching the tube of his cock and shooting deep in my throat, I saw the light from the opening outside door illuminate the base of his cock and his balls. "Oh, shit," I thought, but increased the sucking pressure, swallowing the first of the load, backing up to catch some on my tongue, sliding back to the base of the cock. He was quiet, but still pumping cum.
Out the corner of my eye, I caught the door of my booth ease open. "Fuck," I thought, "no lock."
"Wow" someone whispered in awe. "Look at that." A muscular hand reached in and touched my cheek, ran down my face and touched both my lips and the cock between them. "Jeez!" the quiet voice said. The hand withdrew. The door closed. My own erection throbbed in my hand.
I sucked the last of the juice from this friendly sailor, and kept up the suction until he jerked, put his hand to the hole and slowly withdrew.
"Wow, indeed," I said to myself.
"Hey, thanks, man," I heard him whisper through the hole, "that was terrific. Hope you'll be here tomorrow. So long." He put his face near the hole and smiled at me.
"Thank you," I whispered back, sincerely, "you're terrific!"
He disappeared, saying something I couldn't hear to the other fellow waiting for the booth. The second fellow said, "Great!" in response, so I figured my new friend had said something like, "He's good" or "He's got a hot mouth". But the outside door didn't open so I figured he was washing up before leaving.
My mind didn't dwell much on it, because I was watching through the glory hole as the squeaky toilet booth door was opening and the other fellow, another sailor, entered. He didn't turn to sit down, but came right up to and stood in front of the glory hole. He was too tall, and standing too close to the hole, for me to get a look up at his face, but his muscular hand was pushing along a large bulge in his pants, clearly showing me that he had a hardon. He ground his hips forward, rotating them, showing me that he was hot.
I put my pursed lips well into the hole and made some obscene sucking noises. I licked my lips, waved my tongue at his crotch. I never liked being so damned obvious about my intention to suck a cock, preferring to appear somewhat reluctant about it, but I had learned that advertising pays off, eliminating hesitation, and letting the guy know for sure that I'm waiting for his cock. And I've always been surprised how it does seem to turn men on. It's like they want it to be perfectly clear that I'm the one who'll be doing the sucking, don't even think about reciprocation. They're just here to drop a hot load and leave.
The big fellow pulled at his pants, let them slide down, pulled up his jumper, and uncovered his long, stiff cock. Another beauty. Curving somewhat to the side, but thick and long with richly colored, dark skin covering a thick pulsating shaft, which ended in a flaring purple cockhead. His hand pointed it right at my mouth.
He leaned forward. My mouth, already slippery and well lubricated by the semen of the first orgasm I was still tasting, caught the head of his cock before it was completely through the hole.
I sucked. He moaned and rammed the rest of his heavy tool through the hole and down my throat in a powerful thrust. He moaned louder.
The door to my booth opened quickly and my new friend, the first sailor, fully dressed, slipped in and squatted down, his head right up next to mine, watching the action, grinning like a bright-eyed kid, his hand resting for support on my naked thigh.
Normally, this would have panicked me. But, shit, we knew each other well enough by now, I figured. I backed up off of the cock in my mouth, keeping the glans inside, to let him have a really close look. His eyelids half closed. His breathing got much faster.
I slipped the cock fully out of my mouth and pulled it down towards me, pointing it at my mouth, so that the boy could get a perfect look at the cum and spit covered penis. I licked at the cock lasciviously, grinning at him.
Then I sucked the cock back in to the hilt, and put on my finest demonstration of full, deep-throated cocksucking, going all the way to the base, back all the way to the very tip, almost letting it drop out, but sucking it down again, not easing off. All the way to the base, back all the way to the tip. On and on. The perfect display of powerful, complete, deep-throated cocksucking. No gagging. Breathing regularly. Enjoying myself. Showing off.
"Christ," we both heard from the other side of the hole, "that's got it. You're gonna get a load of jism, man."
I took the first spurt deep, then slid the cock out, aiming it with my hand to let it shoot three heavy, long, white strings of cum directly onto my outstretched tongue and into my open mouth.
The sailor next to me gasped in awe, as I closed my mouth over the cockhead and made an obvious swallowing gesture.
Sucking the cock back into my throat, I finished off a first class blow job, giving it all I had until the fellow pulled back, laughing out loud, saying, "Woo-wee, that's all I can take. You got it all. Thanks, man. That was great!"
He leaned down to the hole as he was fixing up his pants, and smiled. He was very good looking. Seeing the two of us, he looked surprised and said, "Oh, that's what happened to you. Enjoy the view?"
"Fuck, man, you're some hot fuckin' dude. You turned me on again, even though I just came," my friend said quietly, sincerely, towards the hole. I wasn't sure if he was talking to the other sailor or to me.
"Thanks," he replied, "And have fun, you two," he laughed, finishing the rearrangement of his clothes, "I gotta run. See ya." And he left, opening and closing the doors quickly.
"He's letting us know there's no one around," my new partner whispered to me, right into my ear, resting his arm on my shoulder, getting close. I looked into his eyes and wanted to kiss him.
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he'd like to suck the next one, mine, but I was proud of myself that I didn't ask. He would not have seen the humor in it and he was making me so hot that I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Just because he liked looking and enjoying, didn't mean he wanted to do it, or wanted me to suggest to him that he might want to do it. You've got to be sensitive to feelings when playing with other young men.
"You know how to make yourself feel at home," I said smiling. "Did you really get turned on again watching that blow job?"
"Shit, man, I really did," he said enthusiastically. "I never thought I'd see one up close like that, and it was sure sexy to watch it push between your thick lips and disappear. How do you get so much of it in?" He looked surprised, appreciative of talent.
"First off all, you've got to love what you're doing," I said with a nice smile, "and practice does make perfect. But, hey, tell me, now that we're such good friends, what's your name? Mine's Jack."
"No shit," he said, "mine's Jack too."
"You're something else, Jack," I said, still smiling at him. We didn't offer our hands for shaking, we were well beyond such formality.
"Want to watch me beat-off?" I asked, leaning back and displaying the cock in my hand, skinning it back, pumping it, studying his reactions.
"Shit!" he said, bug-eyed, "Look at that. You've got a big one."
My cock had expanded to its greatest size, my balls were tight up against the cockbase, quivering. The excitement of sucking two great cocks one after another in a dangerous sexy place like we were in had brought me close to the brink of an orgasm and both of us could see that I was ready. The nearness of him, the forbidden nature of being in a Navy toilet together, the tastes of cum in my mouth and the smells in the room, all were having their erotic effect on me.
Jack stood up and undid his pants. He slipped them down revealing a giant erection, looking harder and angrier than the first time. He began pumping it with a muscular fist.
"You've been so good, and you suck so good, man, that I'd love to watch you beat off. But when I'm ready, I'm gonna shove this cock back into your mouth and cum in it again. Okay, Jack?" he asked, a pleading look on his face.
"Damn right you can." I got comfortable on the commode, giving him a good look at my stroking fist. My cock was as rigid as I'd ever felt it, standing hard in my hand. The cockhead was fully engorged and pre-cum was oozing steadily onto my pumping fist, dripping down into the cock hair.
My eyes were on his cock, as his hand caressed it lovingly, stroking it firmly, in rhythm with my own stroking, his crotch jutting towards my face, with his balls swinging.
He leaned over towards my cock. "Looks good, Jack," he whispered, seductively.
"Man," I replied, "I am real close." I reached up and grabbed his balls, gently tugging and rubbing them.
"Hold on," he said, shuffling closer, getting between my legs. "Let me pound this cock back into your hot mouth and let's cum together. But, man, don't squirt all over my uniform, Okay?"
We leaned together, my face into his crotch, and I sucked the perfectly shaped cock into my mouth again. As the cockhead pressed urgently into my throat, I felt my orgasm begin. I moaned and hummed, vibrating the cock in my mouth, letting Jack know that I was starting to cum. I dropped the hand that was playing with his balls to cover my spewing cockhead in an attempt to divert the cum. My orgasm was so strong that the cum splattered from my palm down onto my cock and balls, and then drumming large drops loudly into the water in the bowl below.
My orgasm caused me to suck excitedly on the steely cock in my mouth, quickly bringing Jack over the edge to his second orgasm. It seemed more powerful and tasted better than the first time, perhaps because of the taste of the intervening cock I had sucked, and maybe because we were both so turned on by having him watch me suck a cock right in front of him like that. His second orgasm and its aftershocks lasted much longer than his first.
We both had to rest a moment from the sheer emotion of the enjoyment we had just given each other, his cock throbbing on my tongue.
Jack backed off, reluctant to pull his meat away, smiling happily, looking a little cross-eyed from the double orgasm.
A movement next to his shoulder caught my eye, and there was another face, older, with a big grin on it, looking in, catching the action.
"Hi," a voice whispered, "saving any for me?"
Jack and I laughed. I tried standing to pull up my clothes, bumping into Jack, who leaned back, closing the door to the visitor. Jack grabbed me and steadied me. An awkward, but tender embrace.
"Com'on," he said, "I'll buy you a hamburger."
We washed at the sink, bumping each other like kids, trying to reach over each other for the soap or towels, shoving one another to try to get in front of the small mirror to comb our hair. Playing around. Laughing. Someone just coming in would have thought that we were old friends acting like rowdy children.
From the booth we had just vacated, we heard, as we were leaving, "Wish me luck."
We chuckled and called out "Good Luck" as the door was closing behind us. As we were walking away, now good friends, Jack looked back and said, "Hey, there're a couple of hot ones going in now. I believe that sucker will have good luck, for sure."
We laughed, happily. But, in the back of my mind, I was wondering what it would have been like to stay for lunch. And I knew I'd be back there, soon enough.