Alameda Naval Air Station, October 16, 1969

Kit Christopher

I was in my “tough” period at this point. I remember smoking cigarettes to look bad and drinking when I could get a hold of beer. I hung out with my older brother and his friends because they could get in much more glamorous trouble than I could with my friends. It was that awkward summer before college starts, and we were old enough to get in trouble, but not old enough to figure out how to avoid it …

My brother’s friends liked me because when we went down to Webster Street to see if we could get a sailor to buy us liquor, I always fared better than they did. What they didn’t know was that these gobs wanted to think they were hot stuff, so when I’d get within ten feet of a sailor I was fairly well swooning. And they loved it. Standing outside Lucky’s Liquor in my little bellbottomed jeans, I’d wait till a sailor staggered by and then I’d bat my eyelashes and do my “Please, Mister …” routine. Sometimes I’d even get a lascivious comment in addition to the booze.

The night I met Buzz we were particularly well off because my brother’s best friend Rick had borrowed his father’s car. Well, not borrowed, exactly. Rick’s father was prone to passing out after dinner. So, there were six of us riding around in the beat-up 1961 Lincoln Continental, looking to get in some big trouble.

I was hoping the other guys would disappear and Rick and I would end up alone together. I was Rick’s default action. He’d graduated high school and gone to work in his dad’s auto shop, and there had been plenty of nights when Rick was horny and we’d end up using his keys to open the auto shop to “hang out and drink beer.” Rick would sprawl out on the red vinyl sofa in the waiting area and read a Playboy magazine while talking about how horny he was. Soon enough, his big ex-football-star cock would get hauled out of his jeans and, while his face was buried in Miss September’s spread, I would quietly kneel on the floor in front of him. I’d stroke his thighs and sometimes pull his pants down around his ankles. He would say nothing. It never occurred to me as I was blowing him in the near dark of the waiting area that he couldn’t see anything in that magazine. It was too dark. But the magazine served another purpose. It was a rotogravure wall of denial. Rick could happily let his best friend’s little brother slobber his big load down if he had the security blanket of a Playboy in between us.

Romance in a small town is pretty scarce for a guy like me. I never even thought to expect it.

At about seven-thirty we headed down to Webster Street to score, and I could feel my pulse rise. I loved doing this for two reasons. First, because the guys made a big deal over my nerve and ability to get the sailors to buy us booze; and second, because of the fleeting and elicit contact I’d have with the sailors. I loved the conspiratorial feeling.

The Enterprise had arrived in town the day before. It was Friday night and the streets were swarming. We had no problem finding sailors. There were guys in clean white uniforms and guys in woolen navy blue. Then there were the guys from landlocked states, with roses in their cheeks, standing out like sore thumbs with their nearly shaved heads. It was, after all, 1969. They tried to make up for it wearing “groovy” clothes. Fringed buckskin jackets were big at this point. Tight white jeans and a skintight tie-dyed T-shirts. Maybe even some beads or a headband. I posted myself outside of Lucky’s and lit a cigarette while the guys waited in the car in the Safeway parking lot across the street.

A big blue Cadillac pulled up in front of the store and the passenger door opened up. A fairly drunk sailor tumbled out, yelling at the driver, “Hey, ya fuckin’ cocksucker … git yer hands off me!” He landed on his drunk, navy blue butt and the car sped away into the night. I stood and watched as the guy pulled himself together and brushed himself off.

He looked at me and laughed. “Shit, man, ya hitch a ride in this fuckin’ place and they think ya owe ’em some meat or somethin’.” As he swaggered toward me, I saw that he wasn’t so much drunk as out of control. He had an exaggerated macho strut that gave his slim hips quite a roll. His navy blue wool looked glued on, especially around his thighs and shoulders. He wasn’t pretty, but he had a streetwise, seen-it-all look on his late-teenaged face that made my throat close up. And he was a big guy, about fifty pounds more than me and almost a foot taller.

I gathered myself together and began my pitch, “Excuse me, Mister, can I talk to you for a minute?” I told him to come around the side of the building and he seemed intrigued. “We need three six-packs of talls, but we don’t have ID, can you help us out?” He looked at my wadded up dollar bills and smiled.

“Well, buddy, the problem is I’m only twenty and I don’t got an ID either.”

“Oh, don’t worry, they always sell beer to sailors here—I know, ’cause guys get it for me all the time.”

“Is this a regular hustle for you or somethin’?”

“My older brother and his friends make me do it for them,” I whined slightly. I batted my eyelashes and he smiled real big this time and looked at me in a way that made me shiver, even tho’ it was a warm night. He took the money and was back in a flash with the beer and a fresh pack of Marlboros. He offered me a cigarette.

“So, what you gonna do for me now, buster?” I gulped and he laughed. “Don’t worry kid. Can ya git me a ride down to Park Street? I wanna go to the pizza joint there …”

With four of us jammed into the backseat of the Lincoln the sailor seemed even bigger than before—all thighs and arms. He lifted both arms up and rested them on the back of the seat behind us. I was on the door under his left armpit. He smelled like Old Spice.

Buzz, as he’d introduced himself, was smart to get to the other side of town: less competition. As we bumped along I felt his arm come to rest on my shoulders, then his fingertips on my arm. We were all drinking the beer as fast as we could and Buzz had joined us. I had a hard-on as I pretended I was his girlfriend or something. From time to time he would lean across me to look out the window and his neck would be right in my face, all pink and smooth where it went from his bleachy-smelling white T-shirt to his fresh crew cut. Each time he sat up again his fingers would get closer to my nipple and finally his hand was right on my left pec, the fingers lightly grazing back and forth over the hardened nub.

I couldn’t help but squirm as he looked at me, eyes boring into mine, face soooo close, and whispered low, “Feels good, don’t it?” And with that he began to really flick and twist my little nipple in earnest.

The only person in the car aware of what was going on was Rick, as he was looking at us in the rearview mirror. But I wasn’t worried about Rick. I could tell he was getting a thrill out of it. Besides, I figured Rick owed me a chance to be with a guy who could admit I was in the same car with him.

We let Buzz off at Leon’s Pizza & Pool and then we were off again. I saw, as we drove away, Buzz standing on the street with what seemed like a huge lump underneath those thirteen buttons. I was flushed and almost sick with excitement. I had to get back there. I told Rick to take me home. Rick smiled at me in the rearview mirror and asked why. I said I was sick. Everybody laughed except for Rick, who said that I did look pretty bad, and who needs a kid now anyway—weren’t they looking to find girls?

Thank you, Rick.

I didn’t even go in the house; I just got my bike out of the garage and pedaled my ass as fast as I could back to Leon’s.

Leon’s was interesting. My mother used to send me down there to get pizza for everyone when she didn’t want to cook. It was pretty sleazy for Alameda, especially the east side. It attracted bikers and girls with heavy makeup. I used to love to go there because of the bathroom. The walls had the filthiest drawings and comments I’d ever seen. I learned a great deal about the sexual behaviors of adults from those walls. Sometimes the bikers and hoods would come in and take a piss next to me in the trough urinal. One or two would even look over and guiltily show me their hard cocks. I was way too scared to do anything there. But that didn’t stop anyone from long games of show and tell. I remember one guy with a big, hard, uncut cock that could piss while it was fully hard and sticking straight up. The piss hosed up and splattered the wall above the trough and back-splashed on us both, getting our shoes wet.

So, yeah, I offered to pick up pizza for my family on my bike all the time.

Because they served pizza I could get in even tho’ I was under twenty-one, and I have the feeling that’s why Buzz went there as well.

I lit a cigarette and brushed my long shaggy hair back to try and look a little older but it all fell back into my face. I went to the counter and ordered a coke from the old woman, and she asked me what kind of pizza I wanted. No pizza, I said, and she said I had to get out—no food, no loitering for eighteen-year-olds. A big-chested burly guy with a goatee and a motorcycle cap hooked his arm under mine and said, “This way, youngin,” as he took me out the front door. Shit, I hadn’t even seen Buzz. I stood outside and looked in the window for him. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey buddy, what happened to your friends?” He stood smiling at me with a couple of bottles of beer in one hand and scratching his stomach under his uniform with the other. I smiled back. He slung his arm over my shoulder and we started off towards the bridge. “So I’m stuck with ya now, huh?”

I nodded, awestruck.

“I hope you know what yer doin’, kid.” I nodded in the affirmative. “We’ll see about that.” He winked at me.

We sat on some pilings on their sides under the Park Street Bridge and smoked and drank our beers. Small talk. He told me where he was from (Wyoming), and I told him this was where I’d had my first cigarette. He laughed and said, “Well, I hope ya still got a few firsts left ’cause I plan to get me at least a couple of them.”

Buzz flicked his Marlboro into the estuary and I imagined that I could hear it hiss as it hit the water. “You’re a pretty boy, prettier than my girl in Cheyenne. You don’t even shave yet, do ya buster?” His hand stroked my cheeks and hair and I panicked. I suddenly realized what “first” he planned to have of mine. It was the remark about his girlfriend.

“Buzz, have you ever done it with that girl in Cheyenne?”

“Well, not actually, but we is gonna get married as soon as I’m out of the navy.”

“Have you ever fucked anyone?”

“Hey! Whad’ya think, man, I’m in the fuckin’ navy. I’ve been around!” We sat in silence. “Well, I got blowed a couple of times, that’s it. Have ya ever blowed another guy, kid?”

“Well sort of …” I tried to sound innocent, but not so innocent as to scare him off.

“Your brother?”

“No, Rick, the guy who was driving the car—but he made me do it.”

This elicited a response of sympathy; he cuddled close to me on the log we sat on and hugged me to him. “Don’t worry, buster, I ain’t gonna make ya do anything ya don’t want.” As he hugged me he felt me all over and put his hands up under my shirt to feel my chest as if I had tits. “Can I kiss ya?”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, waiting for the dreamy romance of my first real kiss. Buzz’s fuzzy hairs on his upper lip brushed with mine as he nuzzled my face. He began in little soft kisses and soon had about a half-a-foot of tongue in my mouth and was panting like a dog. With incredibly busy hands he’d managed to get my T-shirt off and undo his thirteen buttons so that the flap was hanging down and his stalk of cut meat was sticking straight up through the vent in his navy-issue boxer shorts.

My arms were up around his shoulders so he took one down and whispered in my ear. “C’mon, kid, jerk on my cock, huh?”

I reached down and lightly glided my hand all over the big pole and then held on tight while I jerked it in short strokes behind the head. The lights from the bridge were bright enough that I could see a slag of clear goo forming at the tip of his cock and running down the underbelly, lubricating my fingers.

He stood up suddenly and cupped my head in his hands, kissing the top of it, and begged me: “Please buddy, put it in your mouth and suck on it real good for me, huh?”

Looking up at him with his white navy cap pushed forward over his plaintive eyebrows, his peach fuzz face, and the spray of freckles across his nose, I couldn’t imagine anything more I wanted than to feel his big navy cock pushing into my mouth.

I leaned forward and slathered my tongue all around the head while I hauled his big testicles out from the fly in his boxers. They were smooth and shiny in the bridge lights.

“Just tell me if I hurt ya,” he said as he began pushing my head down onto the meat. I gagged as it hit the back of my throat and he kept asking if I was OK, but he never stopped, and spit ran down off his balls into my hands. “Get the balls too, kid.” He hefted them up to my mouth, pushing them into my lips. As I worshiped his cock, he pulled his top off and laid it on the huge piling next to me. He dropped his pants and pulled them over his shoes and I flowed with him, never losing grip on his meat. He stood me up, undid my bell-bottoms and they fell to the ground as my boner popped up. I wore no underwear, which shocked him.

“You must really be some kind of hippy kid, huh?”

Wyoming, I thought.

He laid his pants down next to the shirt, and I could see that he was planning to use his clothes to prevent me from getting splinters. Gallant. He sat down again and hugged me to him, our fully naked bodies touching everywhere. He sat me on his lap with my pants still caught around my ankles and kissed me again while his rock-hard pole poked up at my butthole. He reached between my legs and fingered my ass, not sticking it in but getting it ready to have something stuck in it. “I don’t know kid, do you think you can take it back there? It feels real tight.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, nodding. “You just need to spit on it or something.”

He brought his hand to his mouth and put a glob of spit on his fingertips, then went back to my asshole. In truth, he could have done anything he wanted to me as long as he kept kissing me like that. His tongue kept going new places I had never known about in my own mouth, and it felt like a velvet-wrapped muscle.

Aided with spit, his index finger plopped right into my ass up to the first knuckle, then, as he worked his hand in a fuck-like motion, he got his finger in to the hilt. I was panting and squirming and wondering how I could possibly handle anything more. It was a strange sensation. But when he got it far enough he rubbed what I now know to be my prostate gland. And this changed everything. And I mean everything. I’ve spent the decades since trying to find other people to help me locate it again. With much success, I might add.

As Buzz plunged his finger in and out of my newly found toy, he stood and lifted me with him so he could set me down on the carefully thought-out and prepared bed he’d made for me. His navy uniform was scratchy but not as bad as the bare piling would have been. His clothing smelled like Old Spice and cigarettes, maybe even a trace of Wildroot. My feet were still attached at the bottom by my jeans but my knees were spread wide to straddle the circumference of the log.

Buzz sat just behind my ass with his legs slung over mine and played with my buns while his dick bounced against my balls.

He was adding spit to his cock to get it into me, and I was beginning to think he was right, that it would never fit. I felt panicky and started to get up off the piling. He stopped me with one big hand on the small of my back, pinning me down on the log like a stuck butterfly. “Hey buster, relax and this’ll go a lot easier.”

He leaned up over me, bracing himself with one hand just to the side of my face and used his other hand to stroke his very wet cock against my very wet hole like a big meaty wand. He gently poked and stabbed at my hole in a fairly non-threatening way until I was squirming and panting as I dry-humped the log.

“Uh, Buzz, I think you can try to … well, why don’t you …?”

He pushed, and the blunt head plopped in to the top of his circumcision scar. Don’t ask me how I know, I just know. Anyway, I squealed, and he brought his hand to my face so fast to shut me up that it was almost as if he’d slapped me. His lips were next to my ear whispering to me, “Just relax, baby, think about how good it’s gonna feel to get that whole big dick inside ya. It won’t hurt for long, but ya gotta get the whole thing in first.”

I squirmed forward just far enough to disengage with a fair amount of pain. I instantly regretted it. I turned over my shoulder to look at him and apologize. He kissed me sweetly on the lips and put his finger to my mouth to hush me. Then he began to kiss his way down my bare back, sometimes licking, sometimes biting. When he got to the top of my ass crack he began to slather his tongue down the crack, leaving a good deal of spit as he went.

What he did next had certainly occurred to me before, but I’d assumed I was the only one to think of something so depraved: He began to jam his tongue in and out of my hole in a very deliberate way, and it did the trick—my asshole opened up, willing and ready. He was pulling my cheeks apart with his hands while he did it.

Just as I began to groan uncontrollably—whimper, actually—he swooped over me again, putting all his body weight on me and plunging half his cock up my newly opened hole. I gasped as he began minute sawing-back-and-forth motions that would put a little more of his stalk inside me with each forward thrust. It’s a technique that I, myself, have used on virgins ever since.

He did not lie. As soon as he was in to the hilt, the pain began to disappear and I surrendered to the wonderful helpless feeling of being royally fucked by a big sweaty sailor. I could not have prayed for a better deflowering. Buzz whispered in my ear all the wonderful things a virgin loves to hear:

“You’re the best.”

“Your ass is hot and tight.”

“You’re the only one.”

“I’ll love you forever,” etcetera.

Meanwhile, I writhed and twisted, trying to feel his thickness penetrate every area I could, all the while stimulating my new friend, the prostate gland. I also gasped out my own fair selection of virgin-style babblings:

“It’s too big.”

“Please be gentle.”

“Oh my God, it feels so big and good.”

And finally, “Fuck me harder, sailor.”

He began to slam me into the piling now. I felt the air punched out of me with each downward thrust. The sweet nothings he whispered into my ear took a darker turn. He muttered hot and wet into my ear: “Oh fuck yeah, boy. Gonna open that hole of yours good now with my big cock. I knew you were a slut when I saw you by that liquor store, honey. I knew I’d get my cock up that pretty little hole of yours. You were fucking squirming like a little whore when I played with your nipple while your boyfriend was getting off watching us in the rearview mirror.”

I felt degraded and turned on all at once.

He bit me on the ear and said, “Get up, I wanna fuck you like a girl now.” Not knowing what he meant, I was a little offended but not enough to argue. He pulled my pants inside-out and off over my shoes and turned me onto my back. With my legs up over his shoulders, he had no problem working his big navy dick into my opened ass. Now we could kiss. My mouth and my ass were both very busy as he huffed and snorted on top of me. He hugged me real tight and pounded my ass while his face was pressed to the side of my neck. Three short hard pounds and he was suspended in air, and the only thing I could feel was the steady throb of his cock plugging my hole as it shot spasm after spasm of sailor jizz into my guts.

Slowly, I felt my heart stop racing as he eased out of me with a plop. I heard a train whistle from the other side of the estuary and a breeze blew up from the water, making all my skin go goosefleshed and shivery. He flopped back down on me and ground our sweaty and sticky bodies together to warm me back up. My cock was hard as stone between us and he belly-rubbed me as he hugged me so close and so tight that I swooned. He began humping me and working his big swabbie tongue back into my mouth. I was so close to cumming that I was whimpering and squealing into his mouth. He humped and rubbed my cock between us until I exploded, and each of us could feel the zing-zing-zing of my jizz shooting between our bellies.

After a couple of cigarettes, we picked our clothes up from beneath logs, beer bottles, and used rubbers. My T-shirt was kind of wet but he put his arm around me to keep me warm. We picked up two more beers as we walked down the empty streets of Alameda.

We snuck into my parents’ backyard and talked and nuzzled until almost dawn. He patted my ass as I hiked up the ladder I kept near my bedroom window for late night entry. When I got to my bedroom in the front of the house I could see his cocky sailor strut as he walked down the street in the pre-dawn haze.

Then I saw the interior light of Rick’s Lincoln as he quietly exited the car. He must have been there since we got home. I heard the ladder creak against my window sill and suddenly Rick was standing there in my room, huffing from climbing up the ladder.

“I thought that gob would never leave. So? Did he fuck you?” he whispered as he put his arms around my waist.

“What’s it to you?” I murmured into his neck. I had always wanted him to hold me like this.

“Well, at first I got mad. Then I got turned on thinking about it.” This was more than Rick and I had ever said about what we’d done.

“So what? Now you want some?”

His big hand slid down to my ass and he gently cupped my ass cheeks. I could feel a little leakage down there from Buzz’s cum. Rick gently eased me back to my bead and I kind of melted under him as he crawled on top of me in my wagon wheel single bed.

Then, for the first time ever, he kissed me. Tongue and everything, and my head nearly exploded I was so happy, tuned on, blown away.

“Yeah,” he said. “I want some.”