Boot Camp
by Samson Velos

 

Along with about 40 other 18-20 year olds, I arrived at the San Diego Recruit Training Center about 4:00AM after being bussed from the Navy’s downtown LA processing center. Tired, confused, and hungry we were immediately hustled out of the bus. The demeanor of the Chief Petty Officer shouting instructions to us was right out of a Hollywood movie. Within 3 hours our hair had been buzzed off and all our clothing and personal possessions had been taken from us. We found ourselves milling about in a barracks wearing blue denim Navy work uniforms and nervously awaiting the arrival of our Company Commander. When he showed up he made it clear that the next 12 weeks would be, well, memorable.

At that time, the RTC was filled to capacity with recruits. The Navy was trying to graduate as many sailors as possible to keep up with the increased demands of the fleet due to the VietNam War. This meant we were allowed only 15 minutes to eat each meal. Lining up to the chow hall we were crammed together, our Company Commanders shouting: “Line up! Nuts to butts! Let your buddy know you like him!!”

Sometimes I did know my buddy liked me. Our loose boxer shorts and thin denim trousers made it easy to tell when the guy behind me had a stiffie. We were packed together so closely that my chest would be pressed against the back of the guy in front of me with my chin resting on his shoulder and the guy behind me likewise up against me. And sometimes, with all the shoving and jostling, I would be the one with a stiffie as I was pushed into the sailor in front of me. So, three times a day, we would spend 15 minutes feeling another sailor’s hard prick up against our ass or vice versa or both. But none of us ever talked about it.

Except for a few hours on Sunday afternoon every minute was spent being ordered around. But on Sunday, from about 4PM to lights out, we were left alone in the barracks to idle. One Sunday I was walking by the shower room when I saw Harris in there. Harris was the only black guy in our company. He had used a washcloth to plug the drain to the showers, which were now filled with a three-inch pool of water. Harris sat directly underneath a shower head, with water raining down over him. I was caught short by the unexpected site and paused to look at him. I had never seen a black guy’s dick, but I had heard the stories of how huge they were. So it surprised me to see that his dick, though kind of thick, was pretty short. It was hard for me not to look at it. He sat with his legs straight out in front of him, thighs together. His dick rested on his nice, round balls which lay on top of his thighs. The head of his circumcised dick pointed straight at me. When I glanced up to his face he looked at me with a kind of embarrassed smile and shrugged his shoulders. I headed back to my rack.

One night, just before lights out, Hernandez jumped out of his top rack without a stitch of clothing on. He shoved his dick and balls back between his thighs and crossed his knees. He minced down the center of the barracks. His minimal pubic hair stood out against his otherwise completely smooth skin. “Hey guys! Who wants some pussy?” he yelled, smiling and laughing at his joke.

 

Lemoore Naval Air Station

After boot camp, it turned out that Harris and I were both ordered to a squadron at Lemoore Naval Air Station in central California. Like all newly minted sailors, we were first assigned barracks duty – sweeping, polishing, cleaning. One day, Harris popped his head out of the supply closet, a 4×8 room with mops, brooms, buckets, etc. “Roberts! Come here!” I went to him as he motioned me into the supply closet and closed the door. “Look at this!” He had found a stash of Playboys stuck behind a couple of bottles of bleach. He opened one up to the centerfold.

“Oh man, I can’t handle this shit,” he said. He unbuttoned his trousers and dropped his skivvies. There was his short, thick dick.  “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked as he began to play with his himself. I was taken by surprise and just shook my head. We resumed admiring the centerfold. I glanced at his dick as it grew harder in response to his stroking. I had never seen another guy’s erection, let alone see another guy jerk off. It was fun watching his balls jiggle as he stroked himself. It was hard not to look, but I stole glances. I also noticed he had a nice, smooth ass.

“Hey – don’t you want to get off on this chick?” he asked, nodding toward my crotch. I had never known a guy to be so open and casual about stuff like this. I dropped my shorts, too. We stood there, each stroking our dicks and turning the pages of the Playboy. His pace picked up and I could tell he would cum soon. He said, “Shit, I can’t help it – I’ve got to touch something besides myself!” and grabbed my ass. I flinched a little but really didn’t know what to do. He kneaded my ass with one hand as he jerked with the other and, when he finally shot his load on the centerfold, he squeezed me tight and held his grip till he was done. “Don’t you want to cum?” he asked. I did and I didn’t. This was a pretty crazy experience for me. I said I was good and pulled my trousers back up. Harris pulled the centerfold out of the Playboy. It was covered with his goo. He tossed it in the trash and yanked up his trousers. “Back to work!” he exclaimed.

I had never had an experience like this. I spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about it. I could understand Harris jerking off to the centerfold, but doing it in front of another guy seemed pretty extreme. As for myself, yeah I enjoyed looking at the magazine, but I had to admit that watching Harris’ dick go from soft to hard was interesting. Seeing someone else spurt was a first, too. And what about his hand on my ass? He obviously liked it. Actually, it felt kind of good to me, too. Did he enjoy it because it was my ass or was he pretending it was some chick’s ass? I thought of his own smooth butt and what it might feel like. I couldn’t get these thoughts out of my head.

A few days later, Harris motioned me into the supply closet again. “I keep thinking about those Playboys!” he said. Before he had even retrieved the Playboys he had dropped his skivvies and, this time, taken his shirt off. I didn’t know what else to do, so I did the same. He reached behind the bleach and rummaged around. “Shit! They’re gone. Well, that ain’t gonna stop me – I’m too horny” he said, and began to squeeze his dick. “Hey! Don’cha wanna get off?” I nodded and began to squeeze my own dick. I noticed he was watching me closely, so this time I didn’t just steal glances but watched him closely, too. I imitated his motions. He went from squeezing to stroking and so did I. Every now and then we’d make eye contact and he would smirk.

Once we were fully hard I noticed that his dick, besides being thicker than mine, had a bigger mushroom head. He started to alternate between stroking and twisting his thumb and fingers around the head of his dick. I did the same. “Let’s compare” he said and moved toward me. He put his dick up against mine. Same length, just a difference in thickness. He reached his left arm around my back and pulled me into him. Although basically the same height, I was slight and he had a medium build, so this was easy for him to do.

“Man!” he sighed. “I keep thinking about those Playboy chicks.” Then he began to grind against me. I started grinding, too. Our dicks would slide against and then alongside each other, then flop up against our bellies – over and over again. I liked the feel of our dick heads rubbing against each other. I felt the scruffy hair on his thighs and chest against my own thighs and chest.

As we continued to grind, I reached around and put my hand on his ass. Smooth and fleshy, I squeezed and released as we would grind. Then Harris stopped, pulled back a bit, grabbed both our dicks, one up against the other, and jerked them simultaneously. My eyes closed. I stopped thinking. I was oblivious to everything except the sensations emanating from my dick. I exploded. He exploded. The jerking stopped. I opened my eyes. Harris’ eyes were closed, but they opened. We both looked down to the mess between us. Harris grabbed a couple of cleanup rags and wiped us down. We dressed without speaking and left the supply closet. Nothing like that ever happened again and Harris never mentioned it to me.

 

Lakehurst Training Center

Having joined the Navy in order to stay out of the Army I quickly learned that I should next try to avoid sea duty. So while still at Lemoore, I sought and received orders to “A” school. Because I had made 3rd Class Petty Officer, the idea was that I would outrank most of the other students and hence get a shot at shore duty at the completion of training. If I stayed at Lemoore I would surely be sent to sea.

“A” school was in Lakehurst, New Jersey. Being 3rd Class, I was assigned a room instead of a bunk in open barracks. This was quite a privilege. One Saturday, there was a knock on my door. I opened the door and there was Clayton. He was wearing swimming shorts, flip-flops and had a towel tossed over his shoulder. Clayton and I had hit it off and he said he wondered if I wanted to go to the pool with him. I wasn’t doing anything else, so it was a no-brainer to go along with him and kill some time.

Clayton was about my height. I had never seen him except fully clothed and I noticed he had an appealing physique. His biceps, pecs, etc. were well delineated and he had thick thighs. But he had just a little too much pudginess to be called muscular – yet not pudgy enough to be called chubby. The dude was also fair – I mean, white-white. He never seemed to need a shave and now I could see he had no body hair to speak of.

After swimming we headed back to my room. I changed out of my swim shorts and into jeans and a T-shirt. Clayton hadn’t brought a change of clothes with him, so he just watched me. I mean, he didn’t just not glance away, like most guys would have, but really looked at me while I changed.

The room had two twin beds separated by a small writing table. We each lay on a bed and listened to the radio. Clayton talked about his girlfriend back home. She had promised him they could have sex after she graduated in June, but she wanted to stay a virgin while she was in high school.

“Hey, Robbie” said Clayton. “Can I talk to you about something personal?”

“Yeah, sure” I replied.

“But it’s really personal.”

“You got my word” I assured him.

“I’m worried about my dick. I think it’s too small.”

I wasn’t prepared for that! “Hell, everybody wants a bigger dick” I told him. “Your dick is probably just fine.”

“I wish I knew that for sure,” he said. “Could you take a look at it and tell me what you think?”

“If that’s what you want,” I said.

He sat on the side of the bed, slipped off his swim shorts and leaned back on his elbows. The first thing I noticed is that even his groin was nearly hairless. Just a small amount of blond pubic hair. And the dude was right about his dick – it was small. It looked to be about 2-½ inches long including its pink gum-drop dickhead. I sat across from him trying to think of what to say as his little dick sat on top of his balls and pointed in my direction.

“Look – maybe it’s small now, but I’ve heard even small dicks make up for it when they get hard and that’s what counts.” I had heard that, but it was difficult to believe his teeny weenie could expand that much. “Besides, some girls like smaller dicks – it makes it easier for them to suck on it.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty small even when I’m hard.”

“But look at it this way,” I told him. “As far as any girl is concerned, it’s still a dick and that’s what she wants.” I was trying desperately to make him feel better.

“Let me get a boner,” he said, “and tell me what you think.” He started playing with himself. I was feeling a little weirded out. This wasn’t like with Harris. Harris just wanted to get off and we were looking at Playboys or thinking about girls. It felt like Clayton was like putting on a show for me. After playing with himself about a minute or so his little cocklet started to thicken and grow. Everytime I glanced from his growing dick to his face he was looking straight into my eyes. When he was finally hard he took his hands off it and asked me, “What do you think?”

What did I think? Well, it was still pretty small – about 4 inches. But I found it interesting. He leaned back on his elbows and even without continuing his stroking it stayed hard. The only other hard dick I had ever seen was Harris’ and Harris’ woodie and mine both pointed straight up. Clayton’s pointed upward at about a 45 degree angle. Even though it was small, it somehow seemed to go well with the whiteness and slight pudginess of his body.

“I don’t have a lot to judge by, Clayton. Like I said, it’s a dick – I think that’s what’s important, don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure it’s all the way hard?” I asked. “Maybe it’s not, maybe it could grow more.”

“It’s not gonna get any harder. Grab it and see.” It sounded like a challenge. I reached over and put my fingers around it. It didn’t even stick up above my hand. I squeezed and it seemed about as hard as a dick is supposed to be.

“Clayton, you’ve got what you’ve got. I don’t know what else to tell ya.”

The next several weekends Clayton and I went to the pool together. Clayton didn’t bring up the subject of his dick, so I thought that was the end of it. But then, one Sunday afternoon he stopped by my room.

“Robbie, I’m still worried about my dick. You’re the only one I can talk to about it. Could you help me out?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I told him. “What do you need?”

“I think I would feel better if I could just get a good, close look at another’s guy dick to compare. Could I just look at yours up close?”

This seemed kind of strange, but like before I felt sorry for Clayton. “Yeah, I guess. Do you want to do that now?”

“Yes! Now! I can’t stop worrying and I think this will help.”

I was wearing only my skivvies anyway, so I just slipped them off and sat down on the chair in front of the writing table. “Here you go.”

Well, when Clayton said he wanted a close look he meant it. He got down on his knees and put his face about three inches in front of my cock. His hands were on my hips and his arms rested on my thighs. I noticed that Clayton actually did have some body hair – his forearms had some fine, downy white hairs that you would never see against his fair complexion unless you were able to look closely.

Clayton lifted his right hand from my hip and gently lifted up my limp dick. He inspected the underside of my dick. Then he wrapped his hand around it and gave it a couple of gentle squeezes. He released and let it rest in his palm. “It’s bigger than mine. It’s heavier than mine,” he observed.

“Look, Clayton. It probably is, but it’s not that big a deal. You’re dick is fine.” I was still trying to make him feel better.

“I want to see them together, next to each other,” he said. He immediately shed his jeans and skivvies and stood in front of me wearing just a T-shirt. He looked at me for a couple of seconds and then removed his T-shirt as well.

“Robbie, I really didn’t come over here for the reason I said.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just so horny. I keep thinking about my girlfriend. And you know what they say when you’re at sea: ‘If you’re not at the pier, it ain’t queer.’ Well, we’re so isolated here at this base we might as well be at sea. You probably get horny, too. We all do. How about if we help each other out?”

This was in the days before “don’t ask, don’t tell” and what we were doing was already pretty risky. If we were caught, it was a UCMJ violation. On the other hand, being privileged with my own room, privacy was assured.

“All right – but why don’t you do me first and show me what you want?”

“OK.”

We both already had all our clothes off. I was sitting on the side of one of the beds. Clayton stepped toward me, swung his left leg around me and sat down right behind me – with his soft dick and balls pressed up against my back. He put his left arm around my torso and cupped my balls with his right hand, his thighs right up against mine. I could see that his thighs were totally smooth, but his calves – like his forearms – had those fine, downy white hairs.

Clayton squeezed my balls a few times. My dick was instantly hard, pointing straight up. I was surprised how quickly it happened. He started jerking my dick. As he did so, I felt Clayton’s dick getting hard as it pressed against my back. His chin was over my right shoulder and I could feel his cheek up against mine. I could tell he was using his left hand, as it rested on my torso, to track my breathing because as I would get close to coming he would slow down. This was tantalizing. I never jerked off much, but when I did I just did it quickly and got it over with. Finally, I began moaning. My hips began thrusting. Clayton quickly swung around in front of me and picked up the pace of his jerks. Just before I came he put his chest, with those smooth, white pecs, up against my dick and rubbed my cockhead on his nipple. Exquisite release followed as I came all over his pretty chest.

Clayton smiled. He took a couple of breaths and then grabbed his skivvies and wiped himself off.

“Can you do me like that?” he asked.

 

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One Reply to “”

  1. That was very real, and fun, and interesting to read. The way you described the scene was perfect, and I visualized it as if it were a movie and not prose.
    So, thank you for a tantalizing and entertaining and erotic cool story.

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