Tony Dow and the Glory Hole at the Air Force Base

Last week 69-year old Jock, a retired landscaper and Uber driver from Tucson, told me a story of when he was in the California National Guard in 1966, and Tony Dow, the actor who starred as teenage hunk Wally in Leave It to Beaver, was in his barracks.  One day they all went out to the movies, and Wally and his friend picked up a high school boy.  Jock followed them, and watched as they had a three-way in the park.

But that's not the only story he has.

I'll use his words as much as possible.










Marysville, California, October 1966

When I was in boot camp, we got passes to go into town twice a week.  A lot of the guys tried to get some action with girls, but struck out  -- the Sexual Revolution hadn't yet hit Marysville -- you couldn't even get condoms -- so they couldn't wait to get back to the base and go to the latrine.

Boomer: Striking out made them want to go to the bathroom?

Let me set up the scenario.  All unmarried guardsmen under the rank of sergeant lived in barracks, or what they called dormitories.  One long, narrow room with 20 single beds and lockers, 10 on each side.

At the far end, you go through a lounge with two couches, some chairs, and a tv set, and then the latrine, two urinals and a toilet, right out there, not in a stall.  There was no window, so it was pitch-dark unless you turned on the light.  The switch, for some reason, was out in the lounge, by the tv set.

During my first few nights in the dormitory, I noticed that most guys who got up to use the latrine turned on the light -- you could see it glimmering under the lounge door.  But some didn't.  Why were they fumbling around in the dark?

Curious, I waited until someone went in without turning the light on, and followed, walking through the deserted lounge to the latrine door.  I pulled it open.

 It was musty, smelling of urine and someone's aftershave, and pitch-black except for a little gleam.  How could you even see where the urinal was?  I gingerly moved forward, my hand outstretched -- and suddenly I was touching a bare butt!

Boomer: Side or back?

Side. He was facing the toilet, like he was peeing into it.

"Wait your turn, buddy," the guy growled.

Wait your turn for what? I wondered.  There were two other urinals to pee into.  I reached down past the bare butt and felt a buzz-cut head, ears, neck, arms grabbing the guy's butt -- then my hand was batted away.

"I said fuck off.  I'm almost done."

The guy was getting a blow job!  I had no idea that g.i.'s had sex with each other, right there in the barracks!   My mind was majorly blown, let me tell you!

I retreated to the lounge and waited for the guy to leave.

"It's all yours," he whispered in passing.

I returned to the latrine and shut the door, and inched forward.  Someone grabbed my cock!

I reached down and felt that smooth hard chest again.  Farther down to the belly, pubic hair, and cock.   He was big -- at least 7" -- and aroused.

I fondled him for a moment, then stood directly in front of him, and he leaned down to blow me, his hands squeezing my bare butt.  I caressed his hair and face, squeezed his shoulders. When he started jerking me while licking my balls, that did it!

"I'm going to cum," I moaned.

"Shush," he murmured, and swallowed my load.

It was a perfect set up.!   Almost every night, about a half hour after lights out, the fag would get up...

Boomer: Watch your language.

Sorry.  That's what they called oral bottoms in those days.  Anyhoo, the oral bottom would go into the latrine without turning on the light, and we knew that he was ready to give blow jobs.  We were all young and horny, so he was busy.  On some nights there were two or three guys waiting.

 If someone turned on the light from the lounge outside, the guy getting the blow job would just turn around and pretend to be peeing at the urinal.

 Boomer: Was it the same guy giving the blow jobs every night?

Usually.  Sometimes another guy beat him to it.

Boomer: Did you ever get to be the oral bottom?

Once or twice he let me go down on him for a few minutes before he did me, but not usually, no.

But I didn't mind -- I'm still more of an oral top than a bottom, if you'd like to get together sometime and try me out.  Here's a recent photo.  Not bad for 69, huh?  And 69 is my favorite position, by the way.

Boomer: Mine, too.

Anyhoo, after 12 weeks of basic training, I shipped out to Moffett Airfield in Mountain View, California, where the latrine was right by the bunks, no way to hide.  Of course, guys still found ways to get it on. There was a supply closet off the tv lounge, and plenty of street cruising.

Not to mention San Francisco a short train ride away.  Golden Gate Park during the Summer of Love!  That was one far out trip, man!

Boomer:  Great story about being gay in the military in the 1960, but what does it have to do with Tony Dow?"

Oh, he shipped out somewhere else.  I don't remember where.  We weren't close, as I said.  He mostly pal-ed around with Kurt.

Boomer:  But you said this was a Tony Dow hookup story.  Was he one of the guys waiting in line for a blow job every night?"

Lord, no.  He was the f-- the oral bottom.

Boomer: The guy who sat on the toilet and gave blow jobs to anyone who wanted one?

Right.  I thought I made that clear.


Was Jock Telling the Truth?

Tony Dow has been linked with women only since 1968.

 I can see him engaging in some same-sex activity with a buddy, like his friend Kurt.  I can even see him as one of the guys waiting in line at the latrine, thinking that a mouth is a mouth.

But to seek multiple experiences with near-strangers in the equivalent of a glory hole?  I don't buy it.  I think time has clouded Jock's memories.

It's a good story though, even without a celebrity hookup.

See Also: Tony Dow and Kurt Hook Up with a High School Boy.

Tony Dow and Kurt Hook Up with a High School Boy

I've been asking friends, ex-boyfriends, and ex-boyfriends of ex-boyfriends for gay dating or hookup stories involving Tony Dow, the Baby Boomer icon, Wally on the nuclear family sitcom Leave It to Beaver.

I've come up empty.  A lot of stories involving actors from the 1960s that I didn't know were gay or bi: Jon Provost, Brandon DeWilde, Bobby Driscoll, Jack Wild, Jay North.  I'll have to do some fact-checking before I can post them.

But none involving Tony Dow,  until a few nights ago, when I got a email from Jock, a 69-year old retired landscaper and Uber driver from Tucson, who is a friend of one of Randall the Muscle Bear's ex-boyfriends.  It led to a long conversation on Facebook Instant Messenger, and one of the wildest celebrity hookup stories I've ever heard.

I'll reproduce it using Jock's words as much as possible.

Marysville, California, September 1966

In August 1966 I was a skinny 18 years old with big ears and a big cock, just out of high school in Mission Viejo, working at Martin's, and, like most teenage boys at the time, worried about two things:
1. Where is my next blow job coming from?
2. How can I avoid being shipped to Vietnam?

Joining the California Air National Guard solved both problems.  It was military service, so Dad wouldn't get sore and call me a "coward," but no one would be shooting at me.  The 12-week basic training was held at Beale Air Force Base in Marysville, California, about 40 miles north of Sacramento.

And it was wall-to-wall hunks,  working out together, showering together, bedding down for the night together.

We were all young, hung, and full of cum.  I got more action than the 7th flee on shore leave in Singapore!

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  I have to tell you about Tony Dow.

He was one of the guys in my squadron!  Cute face, smooth tight chest with those pinprick nipples, nice abs,  surprisingly dark tan, nice bulge.  His cock was about four inches soft, thick around, semi-uncut, you know, with the head peeping out from the foreskin.

"Did you ever see it aroused?" I interrupted

"See, or taste?"

My uncle was cameraman for NBC, and he introduced me to a lot of celebrity kids, so I wasn't too starstruck over Tony.  We didn't hang out, except when a whole group of us went into town to go dancing at Chiseler's Inn or to a movie, or to a basketball game at the high school to try to pick up some "girls" (or at least that's what they said).

Tony was a regular guy, not stuck up at all, and not nearly as squeaky clean as his Wally character.  He drank -- gin and tonic, I think.  He smoked pot.  He listened to the Rolling Stones.  And on more than one occasion, he met a Cute Young Thing and took off for some late night hanky-panky, if you get my meaning.

"Male Cute Young Things? He went off with boys?"

Let me set up the picture.  First you need to know that Tony usually went around with his friend Kurt --  a tall guy, curly dark-blond hair, pale, kind of skinny, but all dick, hung to his knees.

Well, one night a lot of us are at the old State Theater on E Street -- I think we were watching Way, Way Out, with Jerry Lewis as an astronaut -- , and Kurt sort of vanishes.  Tony keeps looking around for him, but he never comes back.

After the movie, we're in the lobby, eating our leftover popcorn, wondering if we should go looking for him, when he comes down from the balcony with his arm around a high school boy.  Black hair in a military buzz cut, cute jock's face, thin, so short that he barely came to Kurt's shoulder.


"This is Frankie," Kurt announced.  "He's a senior.  We're going to...um...go get a malted."

Frankie giggled and slapped him.

"Not without me, you're not!" Tony exclaimed.  He looked kind of angry.  "Somebody's got to keep you out of trouble."

Kurt turned to Frankie.

"Can my stick-in-the-mud sidekick tag along, to keep us out of trouble?  He doesn't eat much."

Frankie looked him up and down, and grinned.   "Hey, I know you!  Wally, right?"



"Tony."

"But don't hold that against him," Kurt said.  "He puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us."

"Well, actually, it takes me a little longer to get my pants on," Tony said.  "I have to find a place for everything."

"Was that supposed to be a quip about how big his penis was?"

"I think so.  Comes across as kind of lame, but remember, we were surrounded by straight guys, so he couldn't say anything openly."


Frankie reached out his hand, as if he wanted to shake, but instead he pressed it hard against Tony's chest.

Kurt glared at him.

"You think he was angry at Tony for squeezing in on his date?"

"Or, more likely, worried that the high school kid liked Tony better."

"Well, we'd better get off," Kurt said.  "We've got a lot of malteds to drink before the last bus back to the base."

I was anxious to get some cock myself -- the best cruising in Marysville was on 1st Street, down by the river.  But I was curious about what Kurt and Tony were up to, so I followed them -- at a discrete distance.

They walked right past the soda shop and kept going, up B street to a little playground near Ellis Lake.  It had monkey bars, a slide, and a swing set, with some clumps of trees where I could hide and snoop.

They were swinging.

This was hardly the three-way I was expecting!

I was about ready to turn back and go cruising, when suddenly Kurt pulls Frankie off his swing and starts kissing him.  They don't even look for a secluded spot!

Tony pulls them away, to a little clump of trees.

I can't see very well, but it looks like Kurt has his arm around Tony, and Frankie is on his knees. Going down on both of them.  I see a little flash of what could be Tony's cock.

I keep watching, hoping to see more cock, or at least some more kissing.  But it never happens.  All I see is Tony arching his back: I'm guessing that's his spurt.

After awhile Frankie stands up, and they walk off toward the soda shop.

Later, at the dormitory, I asked Tony, "Did you guys have fun?"

"Sure," Tony said.  "Double chocolate malted, outta sight."

"Why didn't you come out to him, let him know he had a kindred spirit?"

"It was 1966 -- I didn't dare.  Besides, I didn't think he was gay.  In those days, straight guys got blow jobs from guys, too, as I found out later, in the latrine.  But that's another story."

The story continues with: Sex with Jock in the Barracks Bathroom.

Was Jock Telling the Truth?

The details check out -- Jock was probably in Tony's barracks during basic training in 1966.  But I'm wondering how he managed to see a three-way from a considerable distance, in the dark.  Sounds like a fantasy.

But if it was a fantasy, why didn't he make it about himself?

"My Three-Way with Tony Dow and a High School Boy" would make a great celebrity hookup story.

"Spying on Them and Just Seeing a Flash of Cock," not so great.

See also: Gay Dating Stories with Tony Dow; The Glory Hole at the Air Force Base.

My 10 Favorite Tied-Up Soldiers

BDSM scenes often involve "captured soldiers" being interrogated: "How many in your regiment? We have ways of making you talk."

The problem is, to identify someone as a soldier, he has to be in uniform, or at least wearing camouflage, and in BDSM scenes the bottom is typically naked.  The cock and butt need to be available, and besides, we want to appreciate the male physique.  How can you be naked and in uniform at the same time?

Here are my ten favorite BDSM men in uniform.

1. Camouflage-style pants open to reveal the cock.

2. Camouflage-style hat, khaki pants, and dog tags.  Sculpted physique looks like it belongs to a bodybuilder rather than a scared private.

3. Fully clothed, even the cap in place, but the cock is out for your groping, grabbing, and whatever else strikes your fancy.

4.  An interesting way to strip him out of his uniform.

5.  Nothing but the dog tags.

More after the break.

10,000 Naked Men, Part 2: Kilts to Pairs

I'm reviewing my collection of 9,248 pictures of men collected from 20 years of internet bulletin boards and blogs.

Last time: Asian to Hung.

Kilts.  Several dozen photos, both posed and candid, demonstrating that Scottish guys go commando under their kilts.

Latino.  Men from Latin America, or Hispanic men in the United States. They can be of any race. This guy from Mexico City has been reading Garfield before demonstrating his Kovbasa+.

Matadors.  I think the enormous bulges are part of the costume, symbolic of the matador's virility and power.  I also have some where the bull's horns have ripped open the costume, leaving the penis exposed.  It's not spectacular.

Middle East.  Arabs, Turks, Persians, and Israelis.  Bedouins a plus.  And a Kurdish guy with the most enormous Kovbasa+++.

The problem is always where to classify.  This guy could easily fit into Muscle and Outdoor as well.  I downloaded a program to find duplicates.

Military, Police, and Guards.  Men in uniform, including border and castle guards, hot cops from various countries, and cute soldiers taking selfies.  They can't get too far out of uniform, or you can't tell that they're military.

Muscle.  Most of the guys in the collection are muscular, but this folder is reserved for the ones who stand out as particularly buffed, and don't fit into any of the other categories.

Nerds.  You know you're a nerd when you spend more time trying to see what book he's reading than looking at his penis.  Guys wearing glasses or bow ties, reading books, or doing science fiction or superhero cosplay.

Old Guys, Chubs, and Bears.  Guys of the more mature persuasion, of heftier girth, or with an exceptionally hairy chest.  It's surprising how often all three come together.  This guy has only two of the three qualities, but he has a nice smile.

Orcs and Other Fantasy Beings.  It started with Orcs -- who would have thought that some guys find Tolkien's baddies sexy?  Here's a very well endowed Orc captured and forced to carry heavy weights around.  The folder also contains elves, dwarfs, hobbits, fairies, goblins, angels, demons, and furries (animal people).

Outdoors.  Guys at festivals, nude beaches, nude bike races, or just displaying their goods in public places, like this Hungarian maintenance man.

Pairs.  I'm not big into action shots, but I like pairs of guys, brothers, friends, or lovers, kissing, hugging, or just hanging out side by side.

Next:Punks through Urinals

The Navy Pre-Flight Training School: World War II Beefcake

In February 1942, just at the start of U.S. involvement in World War II, St. Mary's College in California was chosen as one of four sites for a Navy Pre-Flight Training School, where new recruits would get four weeks of basic training.

The Navy took over some of the campus buildings and built others, and in July the camp opened.  It was operational until 1946.

 Recruits received military training and took academic classes (mathematics, physics, military law) and athletics (boxing, swimming, and football).  One of the football instructors was future president Gerald Ford.

Upon entry, they were photographed in their underwear -- front, rear, side.  A number of the photographs have been recovered and posted on the internet.

They only give initials, so it will be virtually impossible to track down these guys and find out what happened to them later in life.

We will have to be content with glimpses into the beefcake and bulges of the past.

Martin, J.D. September 7, 1942

Beckman, F.A. August 24, 1942

DeMaria, M.  Oct 20, 1942

Pizzuto, M.A. Oct 27, 1942

Dow, L. M.,  Nov 4, 1942

Smith,E.S. Dec 29, 1942

Dean, D.A. February 9, 1943

Schultze, R.I., October 13, 1943

Carrell, T. R.  June 6, 1944

McMahon R. October 27, 1942.

Brown, R. R. June 22, 1944

The Closet Professor has an article about the training school

The G-rated version of this article is on Boomer Beefcake and Bonding