Date: Mon, 28 Aug 2023 02:45:35 -0400 From: franz schubert Subject: San Diego Diary - 1940 Chapter 1 Disclaimer: These stories are erotic fantasies. The characters and events described are fictional. If you are under 18, and/or offended by descriptions of homosexual activity, and/or live someplace where reading such material is prohibited, don't read this. San Diego Diary -- 1940 1 San Diego Sailors I guess you could say that I'm just an average Joe, a lanky six-footer. Gals tell me I'm good looking and sometimes they flirt with me. My coach is encouraging about my future in golf. He says that California is going to lead the country out of this darn depression and golf is going to make a big comeback here. I hack balls with my teammates on the college driving range, and sometimes we play on the course in Balboa Park. I've got a good swing, but I'm more interested in their swing than I am in my own. I'm no pansy. I'm normal except that I just like blowing fellas. A lot of fellas go cruising in Golden Hill Park, especially around the grotto. If it's the right time of day and you find a spot secluded enough, you can find a fella for a mutual hand job. If you're lucky you can pick up a good-looking Aztec, or even blow a guy if it's dark enough and the bushes are thick enough. And what fella doesn't like to get his cock sucked? Sometimes I stray farther south, downtown, to cruise the Marines from Camp Elliott and soldiers from Camp Kearny. Most of the military men are sailors from the Navy base and Point Loma. I guess I just like servicing servicemen. I don't go into the gay places downtown. I'm 19 and I look it and besides I don't have the money to spend on drinks at the Copa or Skylark. But lots of crackerjacks and doughboys are on the streets downtown. Two weeks ago I was walking down 4th Avenue. I came across a couple of bluejackets who were on liberty. I've been with military trade before, but not the rough trade type. Not because I don't get a hardon when they swagger by with their tough looks. I do! These two were not exactly what Navy calls squared away! Their uniforms looked slept in, and their shoes had lost some polish and gained some scuffs and smudges. They looked like they'd been prowling the streets for a few hours. One was a little under six feet. I heard his buddy call him Jack. He reminded me of that actor Jon Hall, who played a Pago Pago chieftain, running around almost naked in that movie from a few years back. Stocky and butch. Wow! His hair was dark and short cut, and he tilted his dixie cup to one side at a cocky angle. He held a Camel between his thumb and forefinger, like a tough private dick in a Hollywood movie. And he had a dark expression to go along with it. His liberty buddy was over six. He set his dixie cup back on his head to show off his sandy curls in front. I dubbed him Curls. Tight-fitting jumpers to show off their builds, pants tight around their hips, shorts instead of briefs to show off their cocks. The flares in their bells swayed around their ankles as they swaggered along. Sailors want to get picked up. I was blowing sailors when I was 17. There's a cheap movie palace, I'm not going to say exactly where, but it's downtown and I guess you could say that it's kind of run down. Maybe some winos or insomniacs hang around for the late evening show. I bought three tickets for 15 cents and we went up to the balcony and sat in the middle of a row of seats in the darkest part. Jack and Curls sat beside each other and I sidled into the seat next to Jack. A couple of bums were sleeping it off in the back row. When my eyes got accustomed to the dark I looked sideways at the sailors. They stared at the screen, though they didn't really give a damn what was on it, or they looked around the shadowy balcony, or glanced sideways at each other. Jack pulled a pack of smokes from his jumper pocket. He lit a Camel, cupping the flame in his hands, lighting up his angular face. Curls slouched down and unwrapped a stick of Wrigley's, wadded it up and popped it in his mouth. He chawed slowly, moving his jaw sideways, with his mouth not quite closed. He tilted his head back and to the side like a tough guy, looking up at the dark blank ceiling with his white cap perched on the back of his head. The movie was a night time scene with Bogey and some guy driving a truck. I watched for a minute or two. But soon I was looking at close ups of Navy cocks. The movie was nothing but background noise. Jack stuck the Camel between his lips and made a 13-button salute to get his dick out quick. He turned down the front flap and reached into his shorts and pulled it out. I leaned over next to him. There was just enough light in the balcony to see the ridge of his big cockhead outlined under his foreskin. I put my lips on his cock and he scooted down. I sank down to my knees and got my face in his crotch. He smelled like the locker room when the Aztecs come in after a game. It was swell! He got me in the position and angle that he wanted me, pushed me down all the way on his dick and held me there while he got hard in my mouth. He let me service him, going from his cockhead all the way down to the base of his dick, and feeling his balls on my chin, then back up, and down again, with a nice slow rhythm. For awhile he didn't move except when he asserted his control. If I tried to come off his rod, he held it and pointed it at my mouth and smacked the back of my head. If I held the base of his cock so I didn't have to go down all the way, he pushed my hand away and smacked the back of my head. When he was on the verge he thrust his hips up holding my head down while he pumped unremittingly, making me gag. Not that he cared. When he was ready to blast he grabbed the back of my neck, pushed me down all the way with his dick in my throat, and held tight. Every muscle in his body tensed, and with a violent exhale, he shot five spurts of spunk down my throat thrusting roughly each time, so much that I couldn't swallow it all and his jizz filled my mouth. He kept his dick there, letting it soften, then he pushed me off. Curls unbuttoned when he noticed his buddy was finished. He leaned over, and under his breath said "Move over here on your knees, cocksucker, get between my legs." To get to Curls I had to get on my knees and maneuver around Jack's boots. When I swiveled between his legs, Curls had his dick and balls out of his shorts waiting for me. He sat still, chewing gum, and took my head in his hands. There must have been a night scene in the movie. There was just some background music, and the whole theater went dark and shadowy. He guided my face to his balls and rubbed my face in his crotch and across his cock, then let go of me. First I went down on his cock to get it wet with his buddy's sperm. I started kissing his balls, his wet cock against my face. I pressed my nose underneath his nut sack and rubbed it in his fine fuzzy public hair, and sniffed deep and exhaled, getting woozy from his smell, my hot sighs making his musk even funkier. I licked across his big nuts with my flat tongue feeling each of them as it glided across again and again, getting them wet. At the same time he rubbed his dick all over my face. The movie scene changed again, it got light enough so that I could see Jack's pressing his calf against his buddy's leg and Curls wrapping his hand around his pal's rod. I moved up to the thick base of his dick, and licked with the flat of my tongue from the base to the tip like you'd lick a giant ice cream cone. Except it tasted better. And put my nose up against the skin of his cock and smelled the length of it. I rubbed my face in his cum-slick dick and rolled my tongue and open lips all over his shaft, and kissed his upright dick making it jump and flip flop side to side in his bush and the tawny hairs of his belly. When he was ready to get blown he took his big pole in his hand and thumped it like a club several times against the side of my face as a signal. I suckled his cockhead and swirled my tongue around it, then, opening wide, I slid down the big pole, up and down, wanting more and more to feel its girth fill my mouth, to feel it slide down my throat til my nose bumped against the barrier of his belly and I felt his balls on my chin. Jack was getting a hardon from his buddy holding his dick. And every once in a while he reached over and pushed my head down and held me down on Curls to make me choke on dick. I guess that's the way Navy buddies share. When Curls was ready to spurt he put his hand around his cock and pushed my forehead back so he could jack off and cum in my mouth. I kept my mouth open, waiting to taste his load. He jerked faster, his whole body tightened, the screen flashed lights on his face, his eyes closed tight and mouth open as he erupted in my mouth. Globs splattered on my face. He shuddered with his ejaculation and squeezed Jack's dick. He pulled on his dick a few more times to get the last drops out. When I tried to lick them off he kicked me away. Both of them quickly stuffed their peckers back in their shorts and buttoned up. I wiped the slippery goo off my face with my handkerchief. Jack leaned over and said in a gruff undertone, Get up and walk out faggot. They waited till I got to the aisle, then followed me out of the theater and down the dark street. Before I knew it, they had picked up their pace and come up on either side of me. They strong-armed me into an alley and pushed me up against a wall. -- Where's our money, faggot? -- What money? -- For letting you blow us. Curls slugged me in the stomach, knocking the breath out of me. I fell down to my knees and tried to catch my breath for a minute. -- You think we let faggots blow us for free? -- I only got some change. Honest! You can check. You can have whatever I got. -- Turn your pockets out, cocksucker. Two bits? Shit. That all you got, college boy? -- Honest to Pete! -- You owe us, cocksucker. You want more dick? Tomorrow. Same time and place. A buck each. Curls spit in my face and as I felt his wet spray hit my cheek I felt something else that wasn't liquid -- his chewed wad of gum. They swaggered down the alley toward the street. I still had a nickel I'd hidden in an inside pocket, enough to take the trolley back to Montezuma Road. But the sailors didn't get far at all.