Army Base Bar

ARMY BASE BAR

by Mighty Mouth

    I live in a city of 50,000 souls in the deep South. We are fortunate to have an army base at the edge of town. It helps to bring in badly needed revenue for the city. By the time I reached 50, I had made a bundle as an accountant, and had also inherited money from my parents. So I decided to desert accountancy and do something different.

    The street facing the army base was commercial, with stores selling items of interest to soldiers. I decided to open a bar on that street. Fortunately one of the stores was vacant, and it suited my purpose. With the owner’s permission, I did a complete renovation. The job took six months, and cost a pretty penny. But it was worth it. In the weeks before the opening I hired a kid to stand in front of the base and pass out flyers about the new bar. I knew that I would have a steady clientele. I didn’t want a gay bar, but because of my master plan I hired a gay bartender and a gay janitor who doubled as a bouncer. I anxiously awaited the gorgeous and hunky young soldiers that I knew would frequent my bar.

    The bar was long enough to accommodate 12 people. There were ten tables and an area for a pool table. I equipped a small room between the bar and the men’s room at the back that would be the porno viewing room. I planned the men’s room with two urinals and two stalls. I personally drilled a glory hole between the two stalls and a peep hole in the stall next to the urinals. On the wall in front of the urinals I hand lettered the notice, “get a blow job in the hole between the stalls.”  In each stall I drew a mouth around the glory hole to emphasize the point.

    I deliberately planned the smallest and most uncomfortable women’s room possible, adjacent to the men’s room. I reluctantly added the women’s room because of a city ordinance requiring me to have one.

    To cut down on any competition for my planned services, I posted a big sign inside the front door, which stated, “Prostitutes not welcome. If you solicit here, we will call the police.” The pussy hunters would simply have to go to another bar to find what they wanted. I was also worried about soldier-hungry faggots frequenting the bar.

    Sure enough, on opening night, a Friday, the bar was packed. I was in cocksucker’s heaven, thinking about all of the possible dicks I might get to suck. Soldiers of every stripe came. I sat at one of the tables to take in the scenery. No one knew that I was the owner. When a cute stud would go to the bathroom, I would follow, and enter the stall beside the urinals. I don’t know whether anyone noticed my frequent trips to the men’s room, but in bars this is common. Many guys would just piss and leave, but some took the bait and went into stall beside mine. They were ready and so was I. When I put my mouth to the hole, they stuck their member through immediately and I wrapped my sweet lips around their tool. Some would tell their buddies that they just got a blow job in the men’s room, through the hole between the stalls. As the evening wore on, a steady stream of guys came in to use the urinals.

    A couple of weeks after opening, an occasional gay would wander in. I guess word got around about the new soldier bar. We couldn’t refuse service to them, but we made it very uncomfortable for them. I left that to my janitor, who was a hulk of a guy, but a woman inside. If he caught a faggot lurking in the toilet, he would curse them out and ask them to leave the premises immediately. The bartender did his part as well. If he noticed a guy trying to make out with a soldier at the bar, he would deliberately take forever to give him refills.

    Monday night became porno night, because it is the slowest night of the week. I made no effort to advertise it, but my bartender would discreetly pass the word on to his favorites. Needless to say, the porno worked its magic. I just stayed in the toilet waiting for them to come. And of course they came! By the end of an average night I had swallowed five or six loads.

    To stimulate business, once a week I held a lottery. The first place winner would receive a week of free booze, and the runner-up would get a 50% discount on his liquor.  

    After six months I realized that I was making money hand over fist and was having a great time doing so. I had fulfilled two of my dreams; to make even more money and get all of the cocks I needed to supply my greedy cocksucker’s appetite..