By Mighty Mouth


     I swear to you, dear reader, that everything I say is true and without exaggeration. One of the main reasons my trip by car from New York to San Francisco in 1957 with a friend took three weeks is that we stopped in every small town all the way, to see what the action was. We checked out every county courthouse and every public park. The most unlikely hole I found was in Yellowstone National Park. We stayed in what was called The Grand Lodge. All around the lodge were camping grounds where mostly families stayed. There were several large, communal outhouses with urinals and stalls, and I believe, shower facilities. I checked out one of them, but nothing promising. I tried another, and lo-and-behold found a glory hole. It was between only two of the stalls. I thought, "What an ideal set-up. Families have traveled with their kids for days. The men can’t do it with their wives, and the teenagers can’t jerk off privately." That meant a lot of pent-up males.

The place was empty. I thought, "How am I gonna direct somebody to one of these two stalls?” I went inside all of the other stalls,  and locked the doors. Then I crawled under each stall’s door and went back to the one with the glory hole. The door to the adjoining stall was left unlocked. I went into one of them and sat down, accompanied by my trustworthy pornographic playing cards.

Shortly, a teenager came into the restroom. He tried all the doors, but naturally only the one next to me was available. I could see that he although he was at least eighteen, he had a fresh, innocent look, and a nice face. I let him do his duty, then put my mouth to the hole and began to talk to him. It was chit-chat for a minute or so, then I asked if he would like to see some interesting playing cards, and he said sure, so I passed the deck through the hole. They produced the anticipated reaction.

    Then I asked, “Do you want a blow job?"

    He said, "What is that?"

    I replied, "Stick your dick through the hole and I will show you." He rapidly complied. He obviously loved it, because he asked, "Where did you learn that?" I was too busy to answer his question.

Thank heavens no one else came in. He finished quickly and went on his way. I left immediately afterward, since I was afraid that he was so naïve that he would go back and tell his dad what had happened. How ironic that this hole should be only a short distance from Old Faithful, which shoots high into the air every twenty minutes or so.

    After my company  moved from West Forty-second Street to Park Avenue in New York, I saw a handwritten “ad” on a subway men’s room wall for a glory hole in my former office building. I checked it out. It was in the men’s room in the second sub-basement, which housed offices and locker rooms, apparently for the building’s maintenance employees. I don’t know how long it had been there, but fortunately I hadn’t discovered it when I worked in that building. Regrettably, the ad had been effective, and the place was mobbed. I never went back. By another coincidence, a guy loitering there was some one that I had picked up in Louisville while he was a soldier at Fort Knox.

    Some one told me about the holes at Coney Island. They were in two or three different public johns. Patrons had to pay to get in. At the time, I believe it cost five cents. One was dull, the other interesting. I often took the subway there on Saturday summer afternoons and lingered for hours.

    Another locale I discovered was Atlantic City on a pier. I spent a weekend there once and had a great time. One needs to add amusement parks, bus stations, and recreation areas to the list of public parks and county courthouses.

    Doing genealogical research about twenty-five years ago in a courthouse in central Kentucky, I needed to legitimately go to the john in the basement. Imagine my amazement when I saw a hole there. On the other side sat a farmer type in overalls, apparently interested. I wanted no part of this so close to home. I finished my necessity quickly and left. I visited it again in 2006, but the doors had been removed and the hole closed.


    Since my late teens, I have loved getting gum jobs. Most gays find the idea repulsive and there are few stories on the subject. My only lament is that I wish I had found more persons who gave gum jobs than I did. I have probably had six or seven persons do it, and it’s an incredible experience. I am happy to say that I now give gum jobs, and guys tell me that my mouth is better than a pussy.

If anyone wants to read a free copy of my book, “Memoirs of a Gay Rights Maverick,” I’ll send it to you as an email attachment.  Advise me via email: [email protected]

Mighty Mouth


Mighty Mouth


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