Many years ago, I was discharged from the U S Air Force at Travis Air Force Base in California. My last duty station was in Japan, and I had been flown back Stateside to await separation from the military. I very much enjoyed my tour of duty in Japan, most of all because of all the available women, but I was not unhappy to leave behind the life of regimentation I had known for over four years. Immediately before transporting me and other newly separated men and women to San Francisco, the Air Force paid me off for all the furlough time I had to let accumulate because I was unable to use it. I was also given money to pay for public transportation back to my place of enlistment, if that was where I chose to go to start my new life.
It wasn't. I had enlisted straight out of high school, and had no employment I might want to return to, and no girlfriend left behind. Generally speaking, there was no reason for me not to take up residence in a swinging place such as San Francisco, except that I would have to get a job. I wasn't worried about that; I was bright enough and the commercial classes I had taken in high school and four years of experience as a clerk-typist in the Air Force should have been enough to land myself a decent clerical job in The City, as it liked to call itself. Meanwhile, I had what I considered a lot of money in my pocket, and I wanted to have some good times before starting to look for employment.
Of course, to a single man who had just turned 21 years old, "some good times" meant sex, more than anything else, not only fucking and other fun activities, but watching as others did similar things. This was before "Deep Throat" first appeared on movie screens, and a distinction was still being made between soft core pornography and hard core. There were several "nudie theaters" in town specializing in soft core feature length films, but my favorite was the Peerless Theater near Mission Street. The movies they showed didn't bother with plot or usually even dialogue; they just showed naked or almost naked sexy women rolling or groveling around on beds or other flat surfaces and pretending to be getting fucked or having their pussies eaten. It was actually pretty tame by today's standards, but extremely arousing to me back then.
One night, I stayed until the last film clip of the show ended. It featured a sexy blonde wearing nothing but a pair of translucent pink bikini panties. Pussies, even pubic hair, was considered to be hard core porn and was never legally shown, but a dark cameltoe was clearly visible under the thin fabric. She must have been quite a talented actress, or I might have just been highly suggestible, but watching that blonde fucking up into the air while her sexy body writhed on her bed was probably the most erotic thing I had ever seen up until then. As I gawked at her, sometimes I imagined my face pressed between her thighs while I ate her unseen pussy, and some of the time I imagined my body there, matching her erotic movements with deep thrusts of my cock.
When I left, I was in an advanced state of sexual excitement, and in a hurry to get back to the hotel where I was staying so I could alleviate my needs. There were probably ways to get away with masturbating inside the theater, but I didn't know about them, and would have been reluctant to do so anyhow, because it would have been illegal, and I wanted to avoid trouble.
On the sidewalk outside the theater, I encountered a smallish man of about 30 years old, who also wanted my needs to be alleviated, except that he wanted to be the one to take care of those needs. I didn't realize this right away, and I did wonder why he approached me. I knew there were some men, especially in the city where I was then, who were gay, although I probably would have used the words "queer" or "fairy" in referring to them. There would have been no animus on my part. "Gay" as a word meaning or referring to a homosexual man was not yet in common use; at least I had never heard it.
"Quite a movie, wasn't it?" the stranger said.
"Yeah, it was," I replied, not wishing to be boorish, but not wishing to stop for any idle conversation.
I was anxious to avoid delay in reaching a place of privacy, so I continued rapidly walking in the same direction. The man caught up with me, and made me a proposal I found interesting.
"Do you want a blow job?"
That question caused me to stop and let him catch up with me. In Japan, I had reveled in a variety of sexual activities, including being sucked off, but this was only with josans, which is a Japanese word meaning girls or young women, and all of them were prostitutes. I certainly preferred having my hard cock stroked by a pair of lips rather than my own hand, which was the alternative that night, and there was not even a remote chance of any other options appearing. Had it been a woman making that offer, I would have accepted her proposal without a moment's hesitation, and I could see little or no difference between that hypothetical female and the man whose mouth was available. He even had a rather feminine appearance, with long blonde hair and a hairless face with a fair complexion. Long hair on men was quite unusual back then.
"Sure," I answered. "Do you have a place to go?"
"Right down here." He waved in the direction of a row of vehicles parked in an alley and started walking toward them.
After a couple of steps, he turned and waited for me, and I was already walking briskly after him. Looking back, I realize that was rather risky behavior on my part, but I was not concerned then. I was much younger, bigger and stronger than the man who said he wanted to suck me off, and I had every confidence in my ability to take care of myself if need be. And, as I said, I was also very horny and needed a sexual outlet.
As he unlocked the door to a van, the man introduced himself as "Arne," which gave me something to call him. Seeing no reason to be secretive, I told him my name was George. When the door swung open, the light inside the van came on, and I looked inside and saw some pillows and a small mattress on the floor, but no other person. I followed him in and lay flat on my back on the mattress, the way I had always done when I knew a mouth was about to be pleasuring my cock. Until then, there had been no difference between getting sucked off by this man or by a josan, except the latter would have looked much better to me. Nothing against Arne, but women have always been more visually interesting to me than men.
