"When I got back to Ronnie's apartment, he was gone-out on a date, I found out later. So I just plopped myself in bed, dead tired, and had myself some good dreams of the farm where I planned to be in a couple of days. I probably would've slept until noon the next day, but then-wouldn't you know it?-Archie showed up early in the morning.
"Letting himself in with his own key, Archie yanked the covers off me and said real loud: 'Hey, champ, c'mon, wake up. I've got another date for you, a real good one with a hefty bonus in it for you if you treat her right.' Then when I sat up, still half asleep, he went on to tell me how happy he was with how I'd done with Margy. Seems she phoned him and asked for me again in a few days or as soon as I was available.
"I wanted to tell Archie that I was through with the job, but, golly, he was so friendly and proud of me that I couldn't get up the nerve, especially when he slipped a couple of twenties into my hand and said they were just a little something extra from him to me.
"'This new date, what's she like, Archie?' I asked, hoping that she was a raunchy old bag type that I could use as an excuse to bail out.
"'She's Oriental, Tim, a beautiful Oriental broad from Hong Kong who's loaded with dough, but just too damn shy to meet boys on her own. Her name is Sue and she's not very old-about thirty, I'd say. Tells me she likes the companionship of boys because they sort of bring back memories of the son she lost to the Commies on the mainland.' "Well, of course, that made a whale of a difference, Sue being Oriental and kind of young and very shy. If all she wanted was to be reminded of her lost son, then I saw no reason why I shouldn't go ahead and keep the date. So what if I didn't look like a Chinese kid? At least I could pretend if that would make her happy. Probably she just wanted to talk about her lost son and about China while we drank tea together, which would be just fine with me.
"So I agreed and got myself dressed in another one of the special outfits Archie bought for me-I mean special because they were different from what I was used to. About an hour later, Archie dropped me off at her hotel in downtown Manhattan.
"He hadn't lied to me, either. Sue really was beautiful and about thirty years old. And she talked real shy when she asked me in, though not with much of a Chinese accent. 'So you're little Tim, how very nice,' she said with a pretty little smile, looking me over with those twinkling slanted eyes of hers. 'Sit down, please, Timmy, while I get some tea.' "Yeah, I was batting a thousand, so far. This is sure a lot better than last night with old goofball Margy, I thought as I watched Sue leave the living room in her sleek and silky Chinese gown, sort of admiring her nifty shape. And to think that I'm getting paid good money just for being here with Sue for a couple of hours, talking and drinking tea with her. What a snap!
"But, as I soon found out, it really wasn't going to be a snap. I was going to earn my money, every nickel of it, because Sue had not only made us a pot of tea in the five minutes she was gone, she had taken off all her clothes except for her pretty little jade-colored panties that barely covered her pussy. Also, she had let her long black hair down, so that she looked much younger with her tiny little cupcake tits and thin, smooth body.
"'You don't mind, do you, if I make myself comfortable?' she asked real softly. 'It's an old Chinese custom, you know, when a girl entertains a boy she likes.' "'No, I don't mind,' I answered, staring at her tits and panties and feeling my dick beginning to get hard. 'I want you to be comfortable, especially if it's your custom.' "'That brought a big smile to her pretty face and the next second she was parked across from me in a chair, pouring tea in the little Chinese cups she had set on the low table between us. 'This is special Chinese tea,' she said without looking up. 'It warms your blood and gets you in the mood for love.' "So the cat was out of the bag. Sue didn't want me for polite talk or to remind her of the son she'd lost-she wanted sex. And Archie, that dirty guy, he must've known it, too. I'd been tricked! But then, maybe I hadn't been tricked after all. Both Archie and Ronnie had told me to expect most anything from my dates. And I agreed to it-I had agreed to be nice to the old gals Archie lined up for me and to give them all the fun they wanted. Because that's what they were paying for.
"'Gee, I've never had any tea that does that to you,' I said, picking up the cup of tea she had poured for me and thinking that since I had come this far, I might as well go the rest of the way. At least, Sue was a lot better looking than old Margy, and she probably wouldn't be nearly so tough. At least, she wouldn't be apt to sit on my face.
"'I'm sure you will like it,' Sue said as I took the first sip. 'It will give you the biggest hard on you ever had and it will make me very passionate, too, so that we can make the most beautiful love together. You're so nice and young, Timmy-just perfect for me. I know we're going to have a wonderful, wonderful time today and tonight and maybe all day tomorrow, too. Tell me, you don't mind spending so much time with me, do you?' "'No, I don't mind,' I answered, beginning to feel a little tingly sensation all over me from the tea, especially in my dick. By now my dick was really hard, what with the sight of Sue's almost naked body. I was beginning to get sexy ideas, like what it would be like to suck on Sue's pretty little tits, and what her pussy looked like. If her pussy was half as pretty as the rest of her, I thought, it would be wonderful to see-maybe even to eat.
"So Sue didn't waste any time getting down to business when I satisfied her that I'd go along with anything she had in mind. 'Hurry, my darling little boy, my love. Drink down your tea,' she said as she finished her own cup and stood up in the center of the room, stepping out of her panties, showing me a puffy little pussy that could've belonged to a baby. I swear it's the truth. Sue's pussy didn't have the tiniest bit of hair on it. And her at least thirty years old. Wow!
"A couple of seconds later, I was out in the center of the living room with her, naked as a jaybird, my dick sticking way out hard as cement. 'Ahhhhhh, yes, I knew it!' she purred, taking my balls in one hand and my dick in the other, 'you're not only a beautiful boy but a real sexy one, too. Your cock and balls are so lovely, so delicious looking, I've just got to take them in my mouth.' And with that she dropped to her knees and did what she said.
"But not for long. A couple of seconds later she was on her back on the thick, soft carpet, lifting her knees up high and spreading them wide, begging me, 'Timmy, please, please fuck me! I'm so passionate, so terribly passionate! Your little cock and balls in my mouth have set my cunt on fire. If you don't fuck me quick, I'll go out of my mind!' "She wasn't kidding, either. I could see her eyes rolling back, and I could hear her sort of gasping for breath. Not only that, but I could see in her open pussy, all around the hole and folds of pink meat, a lot of glistening juice flowing out, reminding me of the spring we had back on the farm. I loved to drink out of that spring, the water was so cool and refreshing, and now, looking at Sue's beautiful pink pussy, I wanted to drink from it, too.
"'Miss Sue, you're so beautiful laying there like that,' I said to her as I fell down on my hands and knees between her legs, 'that I'll do anything and everything you want me to. I'll screw you until you come a hundred times, but first, if it's all right with you, I want to drink some of your pussy juice. Is that all right? Can I drink some of your pussy juice?' "'Yes, yes, yes!' she cried out, twisting like crazy in her passion, 'but please hurry. I can't wait much longer for your fucking!' "So I hurried. I sank my face into her pussy and licked for all I was worth for a few seconds, drinking the most delicious pussy juice in the whole wide world and loving every single drop of it. Then I shoved forward, eased my throbbing, rock-hard dick into her boiling-hot pussy, took one of her beautiful little cupcake tits full in my mouth and started my fucking. "Boy did Sue and me ever go at it then! I don't know what it was that got us so worked up-the tea, maybe, or maybe it was our natural passions-but whatever it was, we sure went to town, humping and squirming and bouncing around on the floor like a couple of infuriated wrestlers.
"Sue was the first to come. And how she did come. It was beautiful. She started crying at first, groaning out loud like a whipped baby, the tears pouring out of her slanted eyes, then laughing and saying a lot of things to me in Chinese that I didn't understand, though I could guess. While she was laughing and humping her little butt hard against me, I caught fire and exploded, too, shooting so much come into her belly that I thought she'd burst, all the while sucking harder and harder on those delicious tits of hers.
"Then, completely out of strength, we just sort of collapsed and died there on the floor.
"I don't know how long we were out, maybe an hour or two, but I do know that Sue was far from through. You see, she had woke up first and fixed herself some more of that special love tea. By the time I got around to waking up, she was hotter than a Chinese firecracker all over again and determined to drink me dry as I had tried to drink her dry before the big screw session. What I mean is, I woke up to find that Sue had my dick in her mouth, sucking on it for all she was worth.
"It's a wonder my dick could get hard so soon after my big come, but Sue sure had it hard, as hard as it could possibly get. And I've got to admit that what she was doing to it felt good. She had a way of sucking my dick that was ten times better than Margy's way. For one thing, Sue fucked it with her mouth instead of holding it in and tonguing it. And for another thing, she made the muscles in her mouth tight around it, like the muscles in a pussy. But she stopped when she saw me awake and came up with a better idea. 'Hello, my darling boy lover,' she greeted me. 'I'm so glad to see that you're awake, because I want to get your permission for something.' "'Hi, Miss Sue. You're sure getting me hot again doing that. What do you want my permission for?' "She turned her eyes to my dick then, and her expression changed. She wasn't smiling sweet and shy anymore. Instead there was a weird sort of wild-animal look on her face, wide-eyed and drooling, like a starved cat with a mouse in its claws.
"'I want to drink your boy come,' she said, gathering up my balls in one hand, stroking my dick with the other. 'Not just a little of it, but a whole lot-all you've got. I'll pay you well for it, darling, because I need it. I've got to have it!' "The way she said that and the way she looked at my dick had me plenty scared, I don't mind admitting. But I'd gone this far with her and figured that I might as well go a little farther. Besides, she said that she'd pay me well, and I could use the extra dough. I'd already made up my mind to leave New York for the farm when I finished with Sue, and the more money I could leave with the better.
"'Sure, Miss Sue, sure,' I said, still a little scared at the wild, starved look on her face. 'Go ahead, you can have all I've got.' "Wow, I sure shouldn't have said that. I should've jumped up and got out of there right then. Because the next instant Sue gave a growl, closed her mouth around my dick and started sucking like a maniac, pumping and slurping and pulling on my balls, all the time growling louder and louder.
"In no time at all she had my balls on fire and my dick exploding with come. But-d'ya know what?-the crazy dame didn't slow up a bit. She just gulped my come down, draining my balls completely empty, and went on with her mad sucking and growling.
"Golly, I couldn't stand it, her going on and on like that! It was terrible torture. She was turning my guts inside out, trying to get more and more and more of my come. 'Oh, please!' I yelled at her. But it didn't do a bit of good. She only gripped my balls tighter, threatening to tear them off if I didn't let her have her way.
"I tried pushing on her head desperately, and rolling my body away, and kicking at her rear. But that didn't work, either. In fact, it made matters worse, because every time I tried force, she bit down on my dick with her sharp teeth and yanked harder on my balls, causing me even greater torture.
"Then suddenly, after a few minutes that seemed like hours, the terrible, painful cramps went away and her wild sucking started feeling good again, not as good as before, but good enough to make me want it. 'Okay, Miss Sue,' I said with the sweat pouring down my face, 'once more and that's all. I know I can come only once more.' "'Yeah, yeah, yeah!' I heard her mumbling. 'Give me more-give me more!' "And about five minutes later I gave her more. It felt like I was shooting a hundred gallons into her throat, but I know it must've been just a little bit. The most I could ever come when I jacked off back on the farm was only about a teaspoon or so. Just the same, Sue sucked up every drop, going after it like her life depended on it.
"Still she didn't get enough! The crazy Chinese sex maniac still wanted more! She wouldn't let go of my dick and balls for even a split second, though I screamed and kicked and bawled my head off, begging her to stop what she was doing. 'You're killing me, killing me!' I bawled, tears pouring out of my eyes. 'I can't take anymore, do you hear? I can't take anymore!' "But she went right on, not caring if she killed me or not. She was completely out of her mind, so it was useless for me to beg. I don't think she even heard me, she was so out of her mind. All she could think of was sucking my dick, filling her belly with my come, no matter if it killed us both.
"I can't explain it, honestly I can't, but somehow, while I was squirming and bawling away in my torture, feeling all my strength disappearing, the feeling in my half-hard dick got kind of good again. It got better and better for about, I don't know, I guess ten or fifteen minutes, then I shot once more-a tiny bit. It took every last ounce of strength I had left. I felt myself passing out, but I didn't care."
There is not much reason to doubt that prostitution most probably is what it has been often facetiously called; specifically, as Kipling put it, "the most ancient profession in the world." One can easily imagine its beginnings.
A loincloth-clad young girl at the entrance to a warm cave, needing food and shelter on her for-one-reason-or-another forced trek through the frightening world of the late Pliocene or the early Pleistocene epoch; an older man in the cave-alone by the fortuitousness of the fact that his mate is many stones' throws away, perhaps bathing in a running stream-who espies the almost-naked girl, feels sexual arousal in his loins, holds up a handful of venison, and beckons her to enter. She does, reaching her hands out to take the food offering; the man pulls it out of her reach and, pointing to the bearskin by the fire, makes it clear to the girl how she can "earn" her sustenance. Feeling no "love" for the man, she nevertheless lowers herself onto the primitive bedding and allows him, a stranger in a strange world, to enter her and to satisfy his craving. A short time later, "enlightened" in a primordial way on a new method of survival, the girl stealthily leaves the cave's entrance, clutching her payment for services rendered against her naked bosom ... A purely hypothetical, true, but not an un-likely recreation of the genesis of the first call girl.
It would not be difficult to recreate a similar situation, with the genders of the "buyer" and the "seller" of sexual favors reversed, where the terminal "bioproduct" of the transaction would be (or was) the first call boy.
If, as the above quite strongly suggests, Necessity-the proverbial "mother of invention"-was the progenitress of prostitution, then Greed must have been the ageless sire, or at least the foster father, of the bastard-child that has been both notoriously uncontrollable and understandably controversial from the dawn of the caves to the midmorning of the skyscrapers. The controversy, of course, revolves around the question as to whether prostitution is "evil" or "non-evil" (the proponents of prostitution have a tendency not to belabor the problem by attributing to their cause any positive adjective-such as "good"-and neither side in the debate appears to consider the perennial dilemma from the vantage point of impartiality, that is, by determining whether prostitution is a "necessary" institution for man-and/or woman-or a "needless" one).
The fact that this controversy has not been resolved to this day can be explained by nothing other than man's ignorance of himself, by the steadfastness with which he has been adhering to that ignorance, and by his inability, or refusal, to find a happy philosophical medium between antiquarian Mosaism and anarchistic nihilism.
Disagreements on the question of prostitution and prostitutes take all forms imaginable. For example, H. R. Hays, in his The Dangerous Sex: The Myth of Feminine Evil, writes: [The anonymous author writing on prostitution in The Westminster Review, Vol. 53, 1851] is honest enough to quote a number of biographies and case histories of prostitutes, both full- and part-time, which show clearly that the majority of these unhappy women, often seamstresses, were simply not paid enough to keep them and their dependents alive and consequently had to eke out a living by satisfying the urges of the Victorian male, wearied of the purity of his home.
Dr. Oswald C. J. Withrow, writing some sixty years later, in his Talks on Sex Education, had a somewhat different answer to the nature of a prostitute.
The majority of prostitutes are mentally deficient or feeble-minded.
This has been proven during many investigations.
If we are in earnest about eradicating the hideous business of prostitution we must take this fact into account. The truth is that such girls are not responsible, and no matter where you place them in society, they are bound to continue the practice of immorality....
... If we are really in earnest, there is only one thing that can be done ... These girls must be placed in institutions under custodial care, and that care, together with supervision and training, will most likely have to be exercised during the rest of their lives....
David Reuben, the best-selling author of Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex but Were Afraid to Ask, makes no direct judgment on the mentality or the morality of the prostitute (although his claim that "the average high-class girl" grosses $7125 per month suggests that "feeble-mindedness" is not one of the prostitutes' characteristic traits); instead, in answer to "why do they do it?" (after "showing" how the same call girl's net income is pared down by living expenses to $20,000 a year) he states, with his typical tergiversation: Virtually every prostitute is in the life because she wants to be. Obviously any woman who chooses to rent her vagina to a dozen men a day has a serious emotional problem [particularly, one might add, when her annual expenditures run to $65,500]. These are the ones who find prostitution glamorous, exciting, and strangely gratifying....
If the controversy that surrounds the female prostitute appears to be adamantly brilliant with rays of ignorance, the controversy regarding the male prostitute-or call boy-is even more vehemently stultifying. Particularly as to whether such a creature exists, in fact, and as to the nature of the beast-among those who accept his existence. Bernhard A. Bauer, for example, considering the male prostitute primarily within the homosexual context, wrote in his classic Woman and Love: It would take me too far from my present theme if I were to quote from the literature of classical Greece ... proof of the high esteem in which the love of boys was held in the country which was the centre of ancient civilization. But ... while it was regarded as improper for a youth to take money from a lover, it was quite good form to accept other gifts, such as horses and fine clothes. The barbers' shops and the flower shops had a very bad reputation in this matter of male prostitution, and the boys who would hang about such shops for hours were generally regarded as being male prostitutes. In Athens, there were even brothels where these boy prostitutes lived....
Yet again, Oswald Withrow, in his previously cited Talks on Sex Education, unequivocally, though cautiously, concluded that ... a man cannot be arrested as a prostitute because, up-to-date, there is no such thing as a man prostitute.
And David Reuben, confusing the issue further in a rather peculiar process of nonsequitur logic, dismisses the male heterosexual prostitute as a rara avis anomaly. He reasons: In spite of the adolescent fantasies of being pursued by hordes of beautiful girls willing to pay for a night of passion, male hustlers have never caught on with women. Few ladies have any trouble finding willing partners at the corner cocktail lounge-if they are so inclined. Most women recognize intuitively the basic absurdity of sex for hire and insist on at least the illusion of emotional involvement in their sexual encounters. Even the enterprising young gigolo who is hired on a long-term basis by his menopausal mistress has to go through the motions of love. If he allows his true feelings to peek through, he finds himself looking for a new matron to make up to. The middle-aged lady and her handsome young companion are about the closest thing to male heterosexual prostitution in our society.
Which gives one a strong impression that the noted Dr. Reuben assumes prostitution to be something other than what it is generally known to be. Specifically, it is the purchase (by way of currency, gifts, or any other form of payment) of a sexual outlet in human form by a person of either gender and any age from another person of either gender and any age. The fact that it is a "middle-aged lady," rather that a "beautiful girl," who is paying for the sexual services of a "handsome young companion" does not make the latter any less of a male heterosexual prostitute than if he were being paid by someone exceptionally attractive and his own age. As a matter-of-fact, one of the primary reasons behind prostitution is the client's inability, or difficulty, in finding a sex partner other than for pay. A beautiful young girl, or a handsome young man, does not need a prostitute-unless, possibly, she or he has some bizarre sexual proclivity that is difficult to satisfy by means of ordinary sexual contacts, although even in such cases, with the modern liberal attitudes toward sexual behavior, the chances are that the said young girl or young man will be able to find a satisfactory, and free, partner to cater to her or his desires.
It is not the author's contention that call boys are as common a phenomenon as call girls. (It should be noted that the terms male heterosexual and male homosexual prostitute will not be further utilized within this work for the simple reason that the terms are somewhat artificial in that these individuals, as a rule, are neither and both, i.e., they are, in feet, bisexual-if not by the force of nature, then by the force of their initial need and subsequent greed.) According to the F.B.I. Uniform Crime Reports (1971), call girls outnumber call boys in a ratio of four to one. The figures are, of course, based on arrests; even so, however, they are concrete enough to negate any contention that males do not barter their virility for cash, gifts, and/or advancement of some sort.
The primary purpose of this work is not only to attempt to delineate a composite portrait of the call boy, to see what type of an individual he is, but also to find and analyze those elements in his background, in his environment, and in his personality that motivate him to become what he is. Claiming necessity to be the sole force that incites him to sell his body for sexual use" is an oversimplification. Benjamin Karpman, in his The Sexual Offender and His Offenses, briefly touches upon the complexity of prostitution when he states: An outstanding factor [in the genesis of a prostitute] is the lack of adequate family love in early and later childhood ... Another factor is the manifest irregularity in the sexual life of the parents. Children are quick to detect marital differences even when parents take some pains to conceal them. This situation results in unconscious reactions of hostility. The prostitute displays an urge to make a mockery of parental love life; the brothel-keeper makes a mockery of family life.
And the complexity becomes even more entangled when one considers the attitudes of countries other than the United States toward prostitution. As Samuel G. Kling, in his Sexual Behavior and the Law, points out: In France prostitution is illegal but condoned. In many other parts of the world, especially in Latin America, prostitution is not only countenanced but flourishes. This is also true of the Orient. India, China ... the Malay Peninsula, and Japan, among other Oriental countries, are paradises of enjoyment for the male in search of outlets for his bottled-up libido. So, for that matter, are Australia and New Zealand.
This suggests that Benjamin Karpman's reasons for prostitution, although possibly legitimate within a society in which prostitution is considered a crime, cannot apply in societies where prostitution is sanctioned. It is difficult in the latter instance to claim that a prostitute in Japan, for instance, becomes a prostitute because she has "an urge to make a mockery of parental love life."
Perhaps one of the greatest problems that has plagued man since the formation of the first family unit is his insolently stubborn assumption that there is but one truth-his own--and everyone needs either abide by it or be cast into the infernal regions of Tartarus, or be fined $50 dollars.
Recently, there has been a great tendency by self-proclaimed experts on human sexual behavior to feed the gullible populace via the vast outlets of the various media their "gospel truths," with the result that there are as many incongruous verities as there are literate and semiliterate promulgators of such incongruous truths. It should be stressed that most of these propagandizes of "proper sexual behavior" are the end result of Victorian puritanism and ultrareligious beliefs. And they fall into two diametrically opposing groups: on one side, the relatively coherent one that determinedly adheres to the teachings of what has to be accepted as antiquarian dogma; on the other side are members of the multifarious and not so coherent group who have one mutual bond-the bond of antiantiquarianism and antivictorianism. Neither of the two groups, it is sad to say, is much noted for objectivity.
It is the intention of this writer to take the middle road, and it is felt that the hoped-for objectivity with which the subject of male prostitution will be handled within this work will be a relatively new digression from the battlefield of moralists and antimoralists, a digression that will bring individual sexual behavior out of the sphere of mass-hypnosis attitude of "damned if you don't, damned if you do," and into its proper perspective. No moral judgment will be passed on the subjects of the five case histories included here; rather, a sincere attempt will be made to understand each situation as an entity in itself and its effects on the subject and those around him, for it is only by studying the individual parts of the societal tapestry that one can come to appreciate the workings of the whole.
CHAPTER ONE- "A Business of My Own"
"I suppose you could say that my being a call boy is a variation on an old family tradition. My mom's a madam, but she'd been a call girl in her younger days. Her mom was a call girl, too, and nobody really knows for sure just how far back it all goes. My mom, Helen, only had one kid-me. I suppose she anticipated the new sexual freedom, or whatever you want to call it. But no matter what the name, Helen's a smart businesswoman. If there's a market for call girls, then surer'n shit there would be a market for call boys. And why not? When you get right down to it, there are really only two kinds of people in this world: those who have to be told what to do, and those who can't stand taking orders. That's why you've got organized people, folks with the right team spirit who think the annual company picnic is really a gas. Everybody else is some kind of a nut, a rebel- writers, actors, hippies, any of us who cannot live a life by the time clock. I read in the paper the other day that since the recession, illnesses and hospitalization have more than doubled. Now these cats aren't all a bunch of hypochondriacs. Some people just cannot exist without a definite schedule to follow. And if you take a beach bum and try to make him work at a desk, he'll either get sick or cop out in some other way.
"I tried a job a couple of times. Helen told me to, told me that every well-adjusted person should know what the other side of the tracks is really like. Her philosophy is that if you've never been sick, you can never, fully appreciate your health. And if you haven't tried it, don't knock it. So I tried it. I got a summer job down in the garment center as a stock boy, but I was so miserable that they finally let me be an errand boy, pushing those big racks of clothes down Seventh Avenue, lousing up traffic. But at least I was out in the open, without a hundred old bastards watching every single thing I did or said. And what used to crack me up was to listen to them talk, or the way they'd snigger whenever a halfway pretty girl would walk by. Shit! Their idea of a hot time was a couple of beers on a Friday night and a girlie show. Balls! Wasn't even one of 'em making enough money to afford any of Helen's call girls for even fifteen minutes, let alone an entire night of fun and games. They were out of it, man, they didn't know nothin'. I bet when they see movies about call girls, I bet to them that's science fiction.
"Oh, they know about whores, all right, or tramps who'll let you fuck 'em for the price of a drink ... but a call girl may as well be a Martian for all it means in their lives.
"So I figured maybe I was in the wrong crowd, maybe I'd like a job if it was in a different kind of atmosphere. So I went to work in the mailroom of a big advertising agency on Madison Avenue. Big deal. Talk about weirdoes! Those guys are really nutty. First of all, you've got a lot of faggots around. Just for openers, I'm already out of place. I've nothing against fags, mind you, as long as they stay on their own side of the latrine. And the rest of 'em are spinnin' their wheels so much I don't think they'd know how to enjoy a lay even if it was given to them for free.
"Oh, they walk around trying to look calm and cool. But that's the trouble. They're trying too hard. It shows that they're really all tied up in knots, all up tight. They might grab a piece of tail from a secretary or some broad in the steno pool, but they wouldn't know how to relax and enjoy themselves. They make a lot of money, but what good is it if you're always tearing yourself to pieces with tension and worry? So, even after a couple of other part-time jobs, I got the picture of where I stood. I don't want to live a life where I'm allowed precisely ten minutes for a cup of coffee, where takin' a leak is treated like goofin' off. Even if I could somehow work my way up and get to be a big executive, shit, man, they're workin' 36 hours a day to live like that! They're on trial every second they're alive. I don't want to be like that. It's not for me.
"Maybe my childhood had something to do with it, and then again, maybe not. Hell, I grew up surrounded by beautiful, college educated gals, most of them from very good families, too. No guy on earth ever got more lovin' attention from women than I did. And there were only two things I was never allowed: one was that I could never answer the telephone-no matter what-and the other was that I was never to know anybody's last name except my own. If there were two gals with the same first name, they became known as, for instance, Sally the Redhead and Sally the Blonde ... but never Sally S ... and Sally J ... Of course, now I know why. You can't let a snotty-nosed kid go around blabbing names all over the neighborhood, or answering the phone at a cathouse. Not that Mom ran a cathouse, nothin' like that. She was too high class for that kind of stuff.
"Mom and me lived in a spacious rent-controlled apartment overlooking Central Park West ... that way, it was never any trouble to take me to the park when I was little. It was also very handy to just about any big hotel in town. Our apartment had three bedrooms and two baths, a sunken living room with a real wood-burning fireplace, no elevator operators, but 24-hour doorman service. Mom kept the extra bedroom for new girls just gettin' started, without the bread to get their own places yet, or for any of the gals who might want to stay a few days and kind of take it easy- or lay low from the fuzz. But the apartment was never empty. We had a parade of gals in and out of the place all the time. Fixing their nails and having coffee with Helen, coming over to chew the fat, play with me, baby-sit, compare notes ... just about any old excuse was good enough.
"My mom was quite a gal when she was younger -though she's no dog now either. She's half Puerto Rican, and half English. She came up here when DeSapio was bringing up all the Puerto Ricans so they'd vote for his guys. Helen had lied. She'd told him men that she was twenty-one, but she was really only sixteen. My age now. She's got this long, black, curly hair, golden skin, and the most piercing gray eyes you've ever seen on anybody. According to Helen, she shopped around for the right man to be my dad. Said she wanted to find the perfect genes to give me every possible chance, especially if I'd been born a girl. She had a customer, a regular, who she got to know pretty well. He was a Scot, red hair and blue eyes, and she says he was smart as all hell. When she learned that he was married to a brunette, but that all their kids had his coloring, that cinched it for her. If his genes were that strong, then he was her man. So she got herself knocked up by him ... and here I am. Strawberry blonde, hazel eyes, and already six feet tall. I've seen a picture of Helen's folks, and I look quite a bit like my English granddad.
"I started pimping for Helen's girls when I was around ten or eleven. Shit! I thought I was helpin' out, y'know? How'd I know what kind of prices they usually got for their services? All I knew at that age was that they all liked men, even though some of them were lesbians, and that the big deal seemed to be to have plenty of clients. I didn't know then that Helen had a special arrangement with a hotel on the East Side. Of course, she wasn't restricted to servicing only that particular hotel, but it sure was a help to her to know that she could rely on a steady business from there. She gave the house dicks a kickback on tips, and in turn, they not only recommended her girls, but kept the operation a secret from management. Nobody ever banged on the hotel room door, yellin' it was the house dick and open up.
"Now, of course, I get kind of a kick out of calling myself a 'house dick' too. It's true. I'm the official call boy of the hotel. That makes me the 'house dick,' doesn't it? You gotta admit that's kind of funny.
"Well, when I was thirteen, Mom caught me jackin' off in my room. There wasn't any big scene about it. She just sort of smiled, said that she'd been wondering how soon I'd become a man, and that it was time to begin my education. I hadn't been masturbating for very long, maybe six or seven months is all. And I was pretty damned clumsy about it. I'd seen some old men in the park doin' it to themselves, got curious, tried it for myself, and that was that. It hadn't occurred to me yet that there was any other way of gettin' my rocks off. Really. Maybe it's 'cause I grew up around women talking about their johns ... but I never really listened to what the girls talked about. It never really sank in what it all meant. Girl talk, that's all. If they'd been talking about a sale at Cartier's, it couldn't have impressed me less.
"So that evening, Mom invited Connie over to have supper with us. She knew I was sweet on Connie. She was the prettiest of all the girls, and was always the nicest to me. It was also the first time I was allowed to have wine with my dinner, the same as they did. I didn't like the taste too much, but I'd have cut off my tongue before I'd have admitted it. And it's a damned good thing I didn't cut it off ... I'd be out of work today!
"After dinner, Helen said she had an errand to run and asked Connie to hang around and keep an eye on me. After Helen left, Connie and I started clearing off the dishes and putting them into the dishwasher. We talked about what I was doin' in school and things like that. Then we went into the living room.
"'Do you know where your mom went?' Connie asked me, patting the cushion on the couch next to her for me to come sit down.
"'No.' "'To a movie. To leave us alone for a while. Do you know why?' "'No.' By then I was sitting down next to her, going nuts from the perfume she was wearing.
"'To begin your education ... with women. Are you afraid of me?' "I shook my head. I wasn't afraid of Connie, but I was gettin' jumpy about what she was leading up to. What was this big mystery? You've got to remember that I went to a private school that was strictly upper-class-no rowdies. If any of the other guys were masturbating, too, they surer'n shit weren't gonna tell anyone about it. So I was never exposed to all the jokes and rib-poking that goes on in other schools about girls, tits, and pussies. I never heard of that kind of stuff. We were all perfect gentlemen, and no matter what anybody might have been doing, he never talked about it to anyone else.
"'Have you ever seen a woman naked?' Connie asked me.
"'No, not really. Some of the girls around here have changed clothes from time to time-I mean, I know that girls are made different than boys ... "'From, Alan, different from, not than. But that's beside the point right now. In other words, Alan, you are a virgin. Is that right?' "'You mean if I've ever made out with a girl?' "'Yes.' "'llh-uh. Not yet.' "Connie smiled sweetly. 'Would you like to make out with me?' "I guess I must have turned every shade of red there is, and Connie just smiled. 'Come closer, Alan. Come touch me.' "I leaned toward her and Connie put her warm arms around me, holding me so that my face was pressed against her breasts,-right up against her warm, soft flesh. She was stroking my hair and face with her cool hands, and I could feel myself riding up and down with the motion of her tits as she breathed, her chin resting lightly on top of my head. I thought I was going to lose my mind just from the smell of her, the closeness of her. Then she carefully tilted my face up toward hers and leaned over slightly, her lips fastening onto mine. I felt as if someone had lit a fuse and it was burning straight down to my balls! Even as I was just beginning to get used to the feeling of her lush lips on mine, I felt her tongue begin to snake its way into my mouth, pushing past my teeth and coiling around my own tongue.
"While she was kissing me like that, her hands began to rove across my young chest, undoing the buttons on my sport shirt and touching my flesh lightly, teasingly. Oh, wow! I'd never even dreamed of sensations like that! I'll tell you something, I think that movies should be made showing women making love to men. Women know how, they do it with thought and care automatically, but a man must learn how to make love to give pleasure to his partner, he must learn to pace himself. Women just seem to know, to sense what is required.
"The next thing I knew, Connie had my shirt all the way off and was kissing my torso all over, sending goose bumps all over my inexperienced body. 'Help me out of my dress, Alan,' she whispered, and I scrambled to reach the zipper behind her. Then I unhooked her bra with trembling fingers. Connie took off her clothes and stretched out on the couch so that I could look at her. And I did. Her body was not only fascinating to my eager eyes, but it was also truly beautiful. Her firm breasts didn't flatten out, but remained rounded with the nipples arching toward the ceiling, a dark pink in their readiness to be kissed. Her rib cage gently sloped into a flat belly, her navel only a dimple in her flesh, and her cunt was covered with a soft, filmy down of blonde hairs.
"By then, I was unable to control myself even if I'd wanted to or known how. My pants were bulging awkwardly with my young erection.
"'Take off the rest of your clothes, Alan, and come lie with me. Come kiss me again.' "I didn't have to be told twice. My clothes came off faster than you could peel a banana, my cock standing up straight as a grown man's, aching with my need to orgasm. I went to Connie, and stretched out on top of her, burying my beardless face in her bosom. I could feel my burning cock resting against her abdomen, and I wished to hell I knew what to do next.
"'Kiss my titties, Alan, kiss them nicely. First one, then the other. Here,' she said and took one breast in her hand and raised it toward my mouth, 'lick the nipple, kiss it ... "I did as she told me, feeling her silken body moving and writhing beneath me, torturing my cock with each motion while I sucked on her nipples. Then I realized that her squirming was not just a result of my kissing her titties. I felt my burning, rod-like cock slipping down between her legs, into her crotch. I felt her hairs tickling my shaft on all sides, felt the wetness she had down there. It was a slippery kind of wet, hot and even a little sticky. I was in agony. The heat from her snatch was matching my own, and I couldn't help but begin to pump my cock against her.
"Wouldn't you rather be inside of me, Alan?' she asked. 'That's where your penis goes, you know, up inside of a woman's cunt. When you're jacking yourself off, remember how good it feels to wrap your hand all the way around your prick? Well, up inside a woman's snatch is even better-a lot better. Here, let me help you!' "I near about died. I was sure that if she said one more word, I was just going to come all over her. But I didn't. I felt her lovely hand gently take my throbbing cock and rub the head of it and down her pussy a couple of times. It was like having boiling oil poured on me, but the feeling was terrific. Then she seemed to be positioning me against a kind of opening in her down there. With one hand on my painful cock, and the other hand on my buttocks, Connie eased me into that hole of hers. I almost passed out with the sensation. She did it so slowly I could feel her grasping wet tunnel crushing softly against my cock, almost suctioning it. I could feel the wet walls of her hole fitting themselves around my stiff prick like a burning glove, and when I had sunk in as far as I could go, I thought for sure I was going to come right then and there.
"But Connie wouldn't let me. She kept bringing my hands back to her breasts, kept talking to me about her titties needing to be kissed and wanting me to please her-even half as much as she was pleasing me. Well, all that talk sort of distracted me. Kissing Connie's titties, feeling their firm flesh, smelling her perfume, seeing her blonde hair all fanned out across the cushion, her eyes half-closed, half-glazed watching me ... it was like some wild erotic dream. I wanted so desperately to please her.
"But Connie knew that I'd never hold out, not my first time. After just a few minutes of holding my cock imprisoned in her hot hole, she began to move her hips slowly toward me, then away from me, toward me, then away again. My cock was slipping up into her, hitting against something there, and then sliding out slowly, pulling at the flesh, tormenting the head of it, and I could feel her pussy walls pulsing against my own throbbing cock.
"'Go, Alan, go! Do what you want, whatever you want!' Connie commanded, and I lost my mind. I began to hump into her, shoving and pushing for all I was worth, and feeling her body humping and pushing beneath mine, feeling that terrific hot box of hers wrapped around my prick. Oh, shit. I don't think I even lasted a full minute. I felt my balls getting like hot water bags under some terrific pressure. I felt myself getting all twisted up inside, all burning and gushing and rushing, and the next thing I knew, I was spurting out my boyish come into Connie's lovely snatch. I kept on humping, letting her cunt milk my prick like a cow's teat, and felt my come go shooting time and time again into her snatch. Oh, wow! If I'd died right that minute, I wouldn't have cared. I sprawled out on top of her body, sweating and gasping for breath. Jackin' off had never, but never, felt like that!
"I was just getting my breath back when Mom came in the door. I didn't know what to do. Should I hide under the couch? Or what? But I shouldn't have worried. Mom just grinned at us both, asked me if I was hungry and said she'd brought home a pie from the bakery. She told me to go shower and to wash my penis very, very carefully, and then to put on my robe and get ready for bed. Then we'd all have some pie together, and then I'd have to go to bed.
"Later on she told me that she'd only left me alone with Connie so that I wouldn't feel embarrassed during my first lay, but that from then on, she'd be supervising my education herself. She'd see to it that the girls taught me everything I'd have to know about pleasing a woman, and that in no time at all, I'd be old enough to go to work. I remember Helen laughing and tousling my thick hair. 'One nice thing about this kind of work, Alan, you never pay any income tax. Pure profit.' "I remember asking her how she could call it work, and she explained that the women I'd have to please would not always be as pretty, or as young, as Connie. I still couldn't see how that could be called work."
In no way can the subject of this case history be considered as a "typical" call boy. Actually, there is no such animal as a "typical" anybody, in spite of the fact that Samuel G. Kling, in his previously cited Sexual Behavior and the Law, quotes a "recent United Nations Committee Report on 'The Suppression of the Traffic in Persons and of the Exploitation of the Prostitution of Others'" that attempts to typecast prostitutes into the following mold.
"Prostitutes have generally slight mental or physical abnormalities (instability, abnormal lack of emotion, excitability, pronounced nervousness) and a great number of them suffer from psychosexual immaturity. The number of prostitutes who are psychologically and emotionally normal appears to be very limited. On the other hand, the number who are actually feeble-minded is relatively low ... The relationship between the prostitute and the customer is by no means the meeting of an abnormal and a normal individual, but both show deficient integration in the structure of their personalities and of their sexual behavior."
If one considers prostitution as a profession rather than as an immoral or criminal act, if one, in other words, takes an objective point of view, stating that Alan L- is a "typical call boy" has as little validity as stating that Louis Pasteur was a "typical chemist" or the First Earl of Woolton was a "typical businessman and administrator." The only "typicality" that might be attributed to the subject of this case and all of the other male prostitutes is their nature of business. They all sold or, more precisely, rented their bodies for a period of time for the sexual gratification of their customers.
It might be pointed out that-shocking though the comparison might seem to some-basically, there is often very little-difference between prostitution and marriage. In fact, the contractual time element (and in rare cases love) may be the only distinguishing characteristic between the two. There is a certain freedom of choice initially utilized by the "seller" and the "buyer" in both of these transactions, and aside from the fact that in prostitution the arrangement is on a "rental" basis while in marriage it is on a more or less "long-term lease or permanent sale" one, both involve an exchange in which the male or the female body, or both, are bartered off for one form of payment or another.
In the event that the married reader, particularly one who is "deeply in love" with his or her mate, consider the above comparison of marriage and prostitution as unjust, a ready concession is made to the existence and power of love (there have been, there are, and there will be marriages into which pecuniary motives do not enter); however, the word dowry has a reason for existing in almost every language and for not being classified as either archaic or obsolescent in Webster's Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary. The definition therein reads: "the money, goods, or estate that a woman brings to her husband in marriage," or "a gift of money or property by a man to or for his bride."
In order to ask the question-and to obtain a legitimate answer-as to why the subject of this case, Alan L-, chose prostitution rather than marriage, however, one must accept the fact that there are a great number of modern-day marriages that are totally unlike the exploitative marriage arrangements of the past. With the ever-increasing acceptance of women not as members of the "weaker" sex but as man's equals, marriages are becoming less of an arrangement and more of a true partnership. There is more of an equalization of responsibilities, with both the husband and the wife sharing the breadwinning roles. Consequently, to answer the above-posed question it is not sufficient to say that Alan L- selected prostitution instead of marriage because he "preferred" to be paid rather than pay or because he "preferred" to use rather than be used. (The latter -the question of "usage" or exploitation-of course depends on the attitude of the person involved. One could say that the women, Alan's customers, having an excess of money and a scarcity of sex, were using him, or one could say that Alan, having the sexual ability and know-how and a scarcity of money, was using the women. Either point of view is correct, and the fact remains that there was-and in all cases of prostitution is-exploitation.) Although a great number of cumulative reasons could undeniably be found for the subject's total involvement in prostitution, there are two primary and interrelated reasons for his chosen mode of life that stand out starkly out of the tapestry of his narrative as it has been presented here. The first of these is, of course, the environment within which he was raised. One might say that he was weaned on prostitution. His mother, apparently a successful call-girl-turned-madam, following in the footsteps of her own mother, not only did not conceal from her son the nature of her business but actually trained him in the functions of a call boy or male prostitute. With such a sexual carte blanche, it is not at all surprising that the subject manifested neither desire nor interest in pursuing any other career. A youth entering adolescence has powerful sexual drives, and Alan L-, being no exception to the rule, found that the "work" for which he was prepared by his mother via the direct tutoring by one of his mother's regular call girls was always easy and, more often than not, quite satisfying.
The second reason for the ease with which the subject "embraced" the world's oldest profession -a reason that at first glance appears somewhat of a paradox to the first one-was the feet that he was consumed with an underlying hatred of women in general, and his mother in particular. The reason for this hatred becomes obvious if we accept the fact that no matter how amoral a person's upbringing may be, no matter how seemingly isolated from socially accepted modes of behavior, rumors (at least) of "ethics," of "right and wrong," of "morality and immorality," etc., eventually will seep into his limited sphere, strike his ears, and fill his mind with doubt. Besides, in the case of prostitution, there is always the threat of apprehension by the police-a prospect very few individuals relish to consider. And then, it goes even further than that. As Bertrand Russell states in his Marriage and. Morals: ... It is obvious that the more strict the standard of morality in any country, the more degradation will attach to the life of a prostitute.
Association with prostitutes, if it becomes at all habitual, is likely to have a bad psychological effect upon a man. He will get into the habit of feeling that it is not necessary to please in order to have sexual intercourse. He will also, if he respects the usual moral code, tend to feel contempt for any woman with whom he has intercourse....
And when it is the mother who directs one toward such a life, such contempt might be expected to be of an even more acute nature. Further on in his narrative, Alan L-states, in fact: "It didn't take me long to learn that I wasn't in love with Connie or with any of 'em. Women were for fucking. If you gave them a good lay, or sucking, they'd do anything you wanted. Women are, let's face it, animals. If they've got any brains at all...." Those are not words of an angered man; they are words of an extremely bitter man, a used man, a male prostitute.
"A few days went by and I'd begun to think that maybe Helen had forgotten all about my education. But I should've known better. I came home from school one afternoon and found Elaine having coffee with Helen. They were talking about me, and didn't stop just because I'd walked into the room. Elaine, I knew, was one of Mom's 'specialists,' though I'd never before thought to ask what her specialty was. I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, poured a big glass of milk, and then came in to sit down with them.
"'Look, Elaine, the most important thing for the boy to learn is the value of sex. He can have no real appreciation for his art unless he knows exactly how much pleasure he can get from it. Once you know how great it can be for yourself, you're far more likely to want to make it great for someone else. That's just plain good sense. So he must learn everything. Oral, anal, sadism-though we don't have to go overboard on that-the whole ball of wax.' "Elaine grinned. 'It's more blessed to give than it is to receive.' "'Well, in our profession, we make the best of both ends, don't we? We give, and we receive in turn. That's fair. Anyway, Alan must learn the difference between a lousy blow job and a superb one. You're the expert in fellatio around here, so you show him. Alan, c'here,' Helen said and I went to her. 'llnzip your fly and show Elaine the size of your cock.' "I did as I was told and I don't mind admitting that I was rather pleased with myself when Elaine commented on how mature I was for my age. She wet her lips as she said it, and something instinctive, I guess, got my blood to turn hot.
"'Now, look, Elaine. This is the boy's education. Not just jollies for you. I want him to learn, and learn right. When he knows how good it feels, then I'll get Maxine to teach him how to go down on a woman. But right now, he must learn some control or he'll be useless later on.' "'At his age?' Elaine asked. 'He can't control himself at that age for crissakes!' "'Well, he sure as hell can start to learn!' Helen gave Elaine a knowing look then turned to me. 'Go take a shower, Alan. No, better take a nice warm bath. When you're finished, come back out her. Just put on a robe, don't get all dressed again.' "After I'd bathed, I came back into the room and walked up to Elaine automatically. She reached inside of my robe and felt my limp prick in her hand, then reached under and cupped my balls. I had some pubic hair then, but not like now. Baby fuzz, really. Elaine opened my robe and began to fumble about with my cock and my balls, squeezing a little too hard for pleasure or comfort. I was getting hard fast, but frankly, I wasn't enjoying it very much. What I mean is that, well, it felt good in a way, but it wasn't like with Connie ... I wasn't going out of my gourd with pleasure. Elaine got down on her knees, then, and took my semi-hard prick and shoved it into her mouth-doing it like it was some goddam favor I'd asked her to do. She ran her tongue around my shaft and kept playing with my balls.
"Well, shit, I came pretty fast. I mean, if a woman's got your cock in her mouth, you're going to come. But, well, it just wasn't very inspiring. So it occurred to me that maybe I was in love with Connie, maybe that's why it was so much better with her.
"But then Elaine fetched a warm washcloth and washed my cock and my balls tenderly. 'Now, Alan, that's what's known as a rotten blow job. But I had more in mind than just to show you that. It's part of your education, certainly, but it also served the purpose of taking the edge off, so to speak. When you want to be sure that you'll please a woman, jack off earlier in the day. Never come to a woman so horny that you'll pop off right away. It's no fun for you, and you'll be worse than useless to her. I've yet to meet a man who has brought me to orgasm without going down on me. And why? I can come if I use a dildo or even a candle. Not even touch my clitoris. But you see, when I am vaginally fucking myself, I do it very slowly, very easily with all the time in the world, no pressure, no urgency. I just let it feel good for as long as it takes for me to come. Some women take longer to orgasm than others, and I'll admit that I take a while longer than what seems to be average. But where there's no love involved in the sexual act, then it damned well better feel awfully good. If a man could learn to be in no rush for himself, to just make love to a woman as languorously as she requires, well, there'd be a lot more happy couples around. A woman begins to feel up tight and guilty if she knows her man is holding out for her sake. And more often than not, she'll just fake an orgasm to make him happy. And that's stupid. It leaves her frustrated, and worse, she feels martyred. But if a woman knows, really knows, that all her man wants is to give her pleasure and that he's in no rush at all ... well, that's music! And a smart woman should know how to blow her man and blow him before he fucks her, unless they've fucked earlier and he's gotten his rocks off.' "All the time Elaine was talking, she was running her hands across my body, letting me see down the neck of her blouse to the full mounds of her tits underneath. Just her talking about it was getting me all hot again, and she knew it. She smiled and, standing before me, removed her blouse and bra, letting her huge breasts literally tumble from their enclosure. She was much larger than Connie, with dark brown elongated nipples like baby Tootsie-Rolls. I stared in absolute wonder as she lifted her breasts up, pushing them together so that they created a mountain of flesh. Then, kneeling down before me, she placed my penis between her breasts and enveloped it in all that human gelatin. It was a strange sensation. Dry, of course, until she began to perspire a little from the combined heat of our bodies, but it was a different kind of wetness, not slick, not slippery, just damp. It was like trying to fuck a warm pillow ... it felt good, but it left me wanting more. I could feel my cock beginning to come alive, beginning to twitch with wanting something more.
"And Elaine knew it. That's it, Alan, get it nice and hard again. I've got a real hunger to suck on your cock. I want to lick your prick, to make you feel real nice, real hard for my mouth.' "Still holding my penis captive between her breasts, Elaine began to lick at my torso, nipping my nipples lightly, and then working her way downward slowly. Eventually, she allowed my semingid penis to slip from between her breasts so that she could reach it with her mouth. She began to tongue the base of my cock, pushing her long, hard nipples at my ass and my balls from underneath. Her hands massaged my buttocks, then traveled to caress me all over, to gently squeeze my now-hard cock. There was something exquisitely exciting this time about watching Elaine licking at my cock like some delicious treat.
"I'm not sure just how long she worked on me like that, just licking and loving on my burning penis. I could see my engorged member as it responded to her tonguing, see my veins pulsating with the blood of passion. Then, ultimately, she took my stiff cock into her mouth, letting the head of it slip past her lips into the hot, moist cavern of her mouth until I could feel my glans resting against her throat. This time it was a maddeningly beautiful sensation. She began to draw in her cheeks around my painful member, suctioning on it. Elaine would occasionally let her teeth graze upon my cock, but so expertly that it was thrilling instead of painful.
"Perhaps it's just the idea of sticking my cock inside a woman's mouth that turns me on so much, I don't know. But I do know that I could never go through life with just plain and simple fucking. Whenever I meet a woman, I'm very quick to evaluate her mouth, trying to decide whether or not she'd be a good or a bad cocksucker. And it's a real talent. A woman's got to really dig sucking cock or she won't be any good at it. And too, I suppose the fact that my mother was present while Elaine was sucking me off made a difference. I liked the idea of her watching me. I watched her lick her lips as she saw how close I was to orgasming. She didn't play with herself, or anything so crude as that, but that night was one of the few times I ever knew about my mother turning her own tricks. Somebody must've gotten one helluva good lay out of Mom that night!
"My 'education' went on for several months. I learned just about every position there could possibly be. I learned to suck each of Mom's gals, and how to lay each of them. Learned what each of them liked, when, how fast, how slow. Learned the subtle signals a woman gives when you're doing the right thing, and when you're doing the wrong thing. It didn't take me long to learn that I wasn't in love with Connie or with any of 'em. Women were for fucking. If you gave them a good lay, or sucking, they'd do anything you wanted. Women are, let's face it, animals. If they've got any brains at all, which damned few of them have, they seem to forget all about them once they're in the hay like a big memory block. If a guy knows how to please a woman sexually, he can have anything she's got. I'll never understand why guys go off the deep end over a broad, not as long as they're so easy to manipulate.
"The time finally arrived when it was my turn to go to work. Mom had tipped off the house dick at the hotel that she was fully staffed and able to service bored wives of traveling businessmen or career women staying over alone. I don't mind admitting that I was pretty nervous on my first job.
"I arrived at the hotel a few minutes ahead of time, so I checked out exactly where the room was, then went to get a fast smoke before my appointed time. Just what kind of woman would she be? Some toothless old hag? A weirdo with a big thing for castrating young guys? I began to appreciate what Mom and her girls went through. At least a guy has a fighting chance if he ends up with a weirdo ... he can overpower a broad, but what chance has a girl got? If some nut decides to tie her up and burn her with cigarettes, what can she do about it?
"My appointment was for three o'clock sharp, and at exactly that time, with nervous stomach and sweaty palms, I knocked on room 1105.
"The door opened, revealing a plump, blonde woman around forty or forty-five years old. She was the type who you just know was the darling of her high-school class, the cute bouncy one who everyone voted the most popular. The kind who just doesn't hold up very well with years. 'You here by mistake, sonny?' she asked, a doubting yet sly kind of smile on her face.
"'No, ma'am. I was sent to room 1105. To Cora. You're Cora, aren't you?' "'Shit! You're just a boy!' "'Old enough, Cora,' I said, braving it, trying to sound older than I really was.
"'C'm'on in, sonny. We don't have to tell the whole world our business.' I stepped in and noticed men's clothing on the bed-her husband, I guessed. There was booze and mixes on the coffee table in front of the settee.
"'Hardware. My busy husband is in the hardware business. In case you don't know it, there's a convention going on. Sam'll not be back until they close the bars-that's four o'clock in this town, isn't it? I'm meeting him later on, making nicey-nice with the executive wives over dinner. But as long as I've got to be dragged to these damned things, I figure I might as well get myself a little fun.' "She looked me over carefully, mixed herself a drink without offering me one, and then sat down. 'I don't mind paying for my pleasures, sonny, but I expect my money's worth. Are you worth fifty bucks?' "I grinned. 'Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back,' I told her.
"'I'm from Missouri, boy, you've got to show me. Okay, do your stuff!' "It was taking all my willpower to fight down an intense dislike for this middle-aged woman, but her challenge to my abilities made all the difference in the world. That broad was gonna get laid like she'd never been laid in all her life!
"I had jacked off beforehand, even as I'd been taught, so I knew I wouldn't have any trouble keeping hard for as long as she needed. I'd been trained by experts, so this out-of-town broad wasn't going to upset me. I went over to her and took the drink from her hand, sipping at it first so I wouldn't taste the liquor on her breath when I kissed her. Then I leaned forward slightly, not even an inch from her face, and as I placed my lips on hers, my hand went to her waist. Women love to feel that they have small waists, and you can make her feel that she does by the way you massage her there. It's also a very exciting way to make her want you to touch her more, to play with her breasts. Cora wasn't any exception. She was a bit flabby around the middle, but not hopelessly so. Her reaction to my touch, to my kiss, was one of surprise. I suppose she expected me to be some fumbling bumpkin, but while I had my tongue deep inside her mouth, my hands creeping up to her surprisingly firm breasts, the moan that came from her told me that she would indeed be a pushover.
"Expertly, I undid her bra and cupped one breast in my hand, letting my thumb flick her nipple into a hard nubbin. I could feel her breathing become shorter, her body beginning to arch toward me hungrily. I broke the kiss and brought my lips to her taut, shriveled nipple. It responded immediately to my mouth, to my tongue, and Cora began to actually groan as if she were in intense pain.
"'Forget about the foreplay, sonny, just stick that hot dick of yours up inside of me,' she commanded.
"My reflexes and responses had been well trained. All I had to do to get a real nice hard on was think about sex, so I was quite ready to do as she ordered. I unzipped my fly and brought out my ready prick. 'Do you want to see it?' I asked her. 'See if you'll be getting your money's worth?' "But even as I asked the question, I was shoving my burning member between her thighs, pushing Cora onto her back on the couch. Her cunt was already slick with expectation, and I let my cock toy with the sensitive tissue of her vulva for a few seconds.
"'Shit, sonny, ram it up me!' "So I did. Violently. I skewered her with my prick until I heard her gasp. I could feel her pubic hairs tickling my own, feel my balls riding in the valley of her spread ass and began to hump her slowly. I could feel how tight she was and knew that she didn't get laid regularly. She was almost tight enough to be a virgin, and my young cock was more than enough for her. Her small chubby hands raked at my naked back, a frantic sort of scratching, like a very nervous squirrel, each time I'd ram her with my prick. 'I can keep this up as long as you like. Cora, so just relax and enjoy it.' "Her face was mottled with passion, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and in between sharp intakes of breath she asked, 'No shit?' "Her pussy was like a vise on my cock,- a burning hot canal of molten oil that I slid in and out of, feeling the walls of her cunt grasp at my rod as I rode her. I began to concentrate on her orgasm and repositioned myself discreetly so that her clitoris would ride along my shaft as I pistoned in and out. She started muttering to herself, almost a babbling, as I massaged her clit with my cock, thrusting myself downward inside of her toward her asshole. It would hurt her a little doing it that way, but if done right, it would be a pleasurable kind of pain. I kept it up for a very long time, constantly reassuring her that she was a great lay, that I really liked sticking my prick into her, fucking her. Finally, Cora began to cry, the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"'Oh, God! Oh, God! I'm comin', I'm comin' ... '"
"And she did, her pussy spasming wildly on my throbbing cock, then she relaxed completely, like a rag doll, letting her tears of joy run freely. I remained on top of her, my cock still inside of her.
"'You didn't come?' she asked me after a few moments, a tone of total surprise in her voice.
"That was just the introductory offer, Cora. I'm sure you'd like some more.' "Well, she laughed then, slapped me on the back and told me I was 'all right.' With my cock still inside of her, we managed to pour each other a fresh drink. When she had trouble getting it down without spilling it, I suggested that we change positions. That we sit up, with her straddling my cock, facing me. Cora managed it, though not very gracefully, and once she was upright, she began to bounce a bit. Apparently, she'd never fucked in that position, so it was a whole new ball game for her. She wriggled on my stiff prick, pushed her titties against my chest, wriggled some more. But her whole attitude had changed. Suddenly, she was coy and tittering. It didn't become her, but it was her money. If she thought straddling my prick was a giggle, who the hell was I to contradict her. About halfway through the drink, I gave it to her again. Only this time I started her juices off just sitting up like that, then I lay on my back and let her do most of the work, riding up and down on my cock at her own tempo to suit her own pleasure. She was like a kid with a new toy.
"I must've fucked Cora at least five times that afternoon, though I only came twice. I showed her positions she'd never dreamed of. By the time I left, Cora was exhausted. When I'd dressed and softly shook her shoulder to tell her I was leaving, she dreamily nodded and whispered, 'Take a hundred, sonny, you're worth it!' And I did. As I stepped back into the carpeted hallway, I couldn't help smirking over my first job. One hundred dollars just for screwing a lonely middle-aged woman. And I thought about my days in the garment center. By the time I reached the elevator, I was laughing out loud!
"The toughest part of being a call boy, for me at least, is going down on a woman you don't know. I don't mind it with Mom's gals, and I suppose that if I ever fall in love I won't mind doing it to my girl. But I know that call girls keep themselves clean, I know they douche regularly, get regular medical checkups. Sometimes I wonder about these paying broads. I wonder even if they've bathed.
"But the clients I enjoy the most are the women who are terribly vain, who've kept themselves in perfect shape. They're the ones who usually like to play a game they call 'Come Here, Little Boy.' It's weird how so many women, from totally different parts of the country, have all settled for the same game. They like to pretend that they're seducing you, that you haven't the faintest idea of what's in their minds, and that you've never had a woman before. One of the reasons that I enjoy this game is that so many of these women insist that you help them bathe as part of the game. At least I know that their cunts will smell sweet and taste clean. Then they all want you to go down on them.
"Usually, once we're really into the game, they will leave the tub and go into the bedroom, then stand before the vanity with one leg up on the bench so that their snatches are exposed to me and they can see themselves in the mirror. They like to see me crawling on my hands and knees toward them, see me licking their ankles and their calves, working my way up their legs slowly until my nose is buried in their cunts. Then they watch my face smothered in their pubic hair, watch what I'm doing in the mirror, usually fondling their own breasts as I wash their pussies with my tongue.
"Almost invariably, after they've come from being sucked off, these gals want to get raped. Right. They want me to get tough with them, throw them on the bed and bang the hell out of 'em. It's a kick for them I guess.
"Of course, as Mom has pointed out, I'm beginning to be too old for that game. I'm full grown now, and few women are going to believe that I've never fucked a gal before. Not even in a fantasy. But now that I've filled out, I've got a cock on me that would make most men turn seven shades of green. I'm not worried about my market value, not at all. Besides my stud fee, I've yet to lay a broad and not get a damned good tip out of it. I figured that as soon as I'm older, around 30 or so, I can start to run a service like Mom's-call men, a regular escort service for lonely women who couldn't go to nightclubs unescorted, and who'll get laid -you know, exactly what a top call girl does, only this will be guys. I talked it over with Mom, and she thinks it's a terrific idea.
"And, since Mom's a pretty smart cookie, I'm taking her advice and preparing for my career. I'm taking dancing lessons, learning all the latest dances as well as the old-fashioned ones like the waltz or tango. I'll go to college during the morning hours when there's never a call for me and take a variety of liberal-arts courses so that I'll be able to converse with anyone, anywhere, and about anything cultural. Let's face it, I'm never going to be a corporation patsy, and I haven't got the discipline to learn a profession like a doctor or a lawyer. I want to just go on doing what I've been doing, playing it smart like Mom. Hell, she's bought herself a nice little house in the country for when she's ready to retire, and has a nice retirement insurance plan that she's been paying for regularly all these years. By the time Mom's too old to cut the mustard, she'll be rather well-fixed financially. She's got investments, good friends, and one hell of a fun-filled life to look back on.
"I might if I feel like it, marry a rich broad when the time comes, but I don't want to feel that I have to, or that I'll be broke the rest of my life if I don't marry well. I want to be financially independent, and hustling lonely women is the easiest way in the world to get there!
"When I think of the millions of guys in this world who work their balls off to support some slob of a wife and a dozen snotty kids-shit, man, they've gotta be crazy!"
It is doubtful that anything but a prolonged and concentrated series of psychoanalytic sessions with the subject of this case will succeed, if even then, to alter his rather bitter and distorted outlook on life. Alan L-'s momentary allusion to a possible marriage is not encouraging, since he regards marriage as nothing more than a comparatively longer-termed prostitutional venture. The chances of his "falling in love" are exceptionally slim; he holds too much hatred and contempt for women to permit a germ of love to settle in his heart.
CHAPTER TWO- The Lamb Goes to Market
"I guess it's my own fault the way I'm living now. I sure can't blame my mom and dad. Honestly, I had it real good on the farm with Mom, Dad, my two sisters, and Sport, my collie dog. So I didn't need to run away to New York and get in business I'm in-this lousy business of satisfying horny old women who like young boys. It was just that ... well, Tommy, a sixteen-year-old buddy of mine, ran away from home for a couple of weeks, and I wanted to prove that I had as much guts as he, even if I was two years younger.
"Only I didn't have as much money as Tommy when I left, so after only one week here in New York City, I was flat broke with no way to get back. Sure, I thought of writing to my mom for bus fare, but Tommy would've poked fun at me for being a helpless baby, and I couldn't take that. Hitchhiking was no good, because I tried it and the cops came along, saying it was against the law to hitch rides on the expressway.
"So I was stuck. And, mister, let me tell you, it was really rough, going without eating, sleeping in an old empty building down by the river, having no friends to talk to. I tried getting a job as a dishwasher in restaurants, but ya know what? They said I was too young, even though I'd washed dishes after every dinner at home for years. One restaurant even called the cops, saying I looked like a runaway, but I ran out real quick before the cops came.
"Then about the third day I found a dime on the sidewalk. What a lucky break, I thought. Tommy or no Tommy, I'm going to phone my mom collect and ask her to send me bits fare home.
"But it wasn't such a lucky break after all, because I didn't quite make it to a public telephone. As I was walking around looking for one, a brand new car pulled over to the curb and the driver called out to me: 'Hey, sonny, do you know where I can find a garage in this neighborhood?' I noticed that his car wasn't running just right. It was sort of spluttering, like the carburetor was flooded.
"Going over to him, I said, 'I'm sorry, mister, but I don't live here. I'm looking for a phone booth so I can call home. I don't even know where I can find that' "He didn't say anything right away, just looked me over real good. Then he smiled and said, 'So you're all alone in the big city, uh, kid? Well, in that case maybe I can help you find your phone booth while I'm looking for my garage.' He opened the car door for me. 'C'm'on, get in.' "So I got in with him and he drove off. A couple of blocks away he spotted a garage and drove in, saying to me, 'This shouldn't take long. Probably all this buggy needs is a little adjustment. Then, if you're not in a hurry to make your phone call, we can go somewhere for a bite to eat. I haven't done my good deed for today so I'll treat you. Okay?' "Ah, at last some food! 'Yeah, sure, I'd like that very much,' I answered. 'I've been broke for three whole days and haven't eaten hardly a thing all that while.' That sounded good to him, because he looked me over again, smiled real happy-like and said I had nothing more to worry about for now I had him for a friend.
"While the mechanic took about twenty minutes to get his car running good again, my new friend and I sat in the front seat and talked. He told me his name was Archie and I told him mine was Tim. He said that he had a very exclusive escort service for lonely women. I told him that I had run away from my home in Indiana just to prove that I was grown up enough to make it on my own and also to see what New York City was like. So it didn't take long for Archie and me to get real acquainted and to know a lot about each other-not a whole lot but at least enough to become good friends. That made me feel real good.
"Next, Archie drove us to a nifty, high-class restaurant where he treated me to a delicious steak dinner with all the trimmings. At first I felt sort of funny, being in there with my dirty clothes while he and everyone else were dressed like a million bucks, but the steak tasted so good that I soon forgot about everything except filling my belly and listening to Archie tell me about his escort business. It was the easiest thing he'd ever been in, he said. And the most profitable. Profitable for everyone who worked for him, especially the boys.
"'The boys?' I asked. 'Do you mean that you have kids working for you? I thought you said that your service was for grown-up women. Don't you need older guys to take the women out, dance with them, and take them to nightclubs-all that stuff?' "For the first time, he turned real serious. 'No, Tim, I have no need for male help over eighteen years of age. You see, my service is for women who go for boys, especially boys about your age. And my female clients don't care about dancing and nightclubs. All they care about is spending one or two hours, or maybe an entire evening, in privacy with a very young and tender kid who will let them have their way with him. It's simple as that.' "'Do you mean that you pay your kids just to keep company with grown-up dames and be bossed by them for a little while? Golly, I never heard of such a thing. It sounds so easy.' "'It is easy, Tim. Not only easy, but fun and very profitable. Do you think you'd like to give it a whirl? I could start you at a hundred a week and then after a bit when you've learned how to be extra nice to the ladies, I'd double your pay.' "A hundred bucks a week! It was almost too good to be true. Wow! I thought. Now I can start eating regular and even in a little while I can afford to fly home in one of those big jets. I could just see the surprise and jealousy on Tommy's face if I came riding back first class in a jet instead of a bus.
"'Gee, thanks a lot, Archie,' I said. 'I'll be glad to work for you.' "'There's only one thing I need to know, kid, before I hire you,' he said, looking at me real serious. 'I need to know if you're afraid of being loved up by a woman. I mean, would you get scared off if one of my clients got hot pants with you and wanted to suck your cock, or wanted you to give her a good fucking? You might as well know right now that those things do happen.' "His question hit me like a bomb. I'd never horsed around with any girls like that before, much less with grown-up women, so I was pretty flustered not knowing what to say. All I knew was that I'd thought about screwing girls a lot and the idea had always made my dick as hard as a rock. I could even feel my dick getting hard right then, thinking of what Archie had said about his clients wanting to suck on it and all that stuff. But I was also thinking of how badly I needed some money.
"'No, I won't get scared off. I promise.' The words just sort of slipped out while I tried not to blush.
"'Ah, that's my boy,' he answered, smiling like he was real proud of me. 'I knew I had myself a winner. The gals are really going to get a barrel of kicks with a tender young kid like you. Yeah, they sure are. And you, Tim, are going to make a barrel of money ... more money than you've ever seen in your life. How d'ya like that?' "'Sounds great,' I said. Then I went back to eating, trying to forget so my dick would get soft again.
"When Archie and I had polished off our steaks and apple pie a la mode, he took me out and bought me some fancy new clothes-silk shirts, tight pants and all that. Then he drove me to the deluxe apartment of another of his teen-age boy escorts. He introduced me to Ronnie, told him that I would be sharing his apartment for a few weeks, then left us alone to get better acquainted. On his way out he turned to me and said, 'Get yourself tidied up, Tim, because tonight at nine I'll have a date for you, someone I think you'll like.' And with that he went to his car and drove away.
"Ronnie was a nice enough guy, a little conceited, but nice enough. He was eighteen, he said, and he'd been working for Archie almost a year. He must've done pretty well, too, because everything in his apartment, including a closet packed full of clothes, was real expensive. A lot of the things, he said, were gifts from the women he had 'serviced.' "Figuring that maybe Ronnie would give me some tips on how to act while I was so green at this business, I asked him what he did to keep his clients satisfied with his services. But for some reason he didn't feel like giving me much of an answer. 'I just let them have their way with me and keep telling them how nice they are, that's all,' he said, going to the mirror and admiring himself.
Then after thinking for a couple of seconds, he said, 'Of course, if the date isn't very old, say around twenty-five or thirty, and not too ugly, I might get generous and give her an extra kick or two from my little bag of tricks.' He wouldn't explain what he meant by extra kicks when I asked. He just said, 'You'll learn, you'll learn soon enough.' "And he was right, too, because that very same night I got my first big lesson.
"Archie came by at exactly nine o'clock like he promised and, after checking me over for neatness and all that stuff, drove me to a high-rise apartment building in Long Island, one of the swellest joints I'd ever seen. He gave me an apartment number and told me to go on in alone as Margy was expecting me. Also not to worry about a ride home for Margy would either drive me or give me taxi fare, which was all part of the fee.
"For some reason I wasn't too nervous going in alone and ringing the doorbell. I guess I expected Margy to be a sweet old lady, something like my own mother, who just wanted to talk to someone and be reminded of her youth, or of a faraway son. I sure didn't think that Archie would give me any other type on my first date. But, holy gee, was I ever in for a big surprise!
"The woman who answered the doorbell was plenty old enough-all of forty, she told me afterward-but she sure didn't look anything like my mom or anybody else's mom, for that matter! In fact, she didn't look like any woman I'd ever seen in my whole life. For one thing, Margy had nothing on but furry pink slippers, a silky pink nightgown that only reached down to her fat butt and tiny little pink panties that I could see plain as day beneath the nightgown. For another thing, she had a pair of tits as big, almost, as any of the cows we had back on the farm, and I could see them completely bare beneath her thin gown, poking out at me with nipples as big and red as strawberries.
"'Oh, you must be Timmy,' she cried out when she saw me standing outside her door. 'How nice. How very nice! Come in, sweetie, and make yourself at home. Yes, yes, Archie said that he had a nice surprise for me tonight, and he wasn't lying,' Margy went on when she had closed the door behind me. 'You're just the sweetest little boy I've ever seen ... a real living doll. Now what'll you have, some ginger ale maybe? Or would you like just a little sip of wine, like me?' "'Ginger ale is fine,' I said, taking a seat on the sofa, trying to keep my eyes off her huge, bouncy tits, but finding it impossible.
"In hardly no time at all old Margy was back from the kitchen with my ginger ale and her wine, posing in front of me with her tits shoved way out, then turning around to give me a look at her shape from the rear. She didn't have a bad shape, considering her age-sort of big in the butt and legs, but okay around the waist. And her face wasn't exactly ugly, either-plastered with makeup, but not too wrinkled. The best thing I liked about her, besides her big tits, was her long brown hair that reminded me a lot of my older sister's hair.
"'How do I look, doll baby?' she asked, flashing me a great big smile. 'Really, I don't look too old, now do I?' Then making like a young girl, she lifted up her little silky nightgown and twirled around a couple of times, giving me a better look at her tight lacy panties that puffed way out in that certain place, telling me that she had a big, fat pussy. It surprised the heck out of me, seeing that, because I'd always thought pussies were too flat to stick out.
"Of course, I agreed with Margy that she didn't look very old, which tickled the daylights out of her, making her giggle like a little schoolgirl. The next thing I knew she was plopping herself down beside me on the sofa, throwing her arms around me, and planting a big juicy kiss smack on my mouth. Yeah, and on top of that she pressed her giant tits so hard against me that I could feel the nipples jabbing into my chest, sending hot little tingles all through me.
"Golly, I couldn't help it, my dick was getting as hard as a rock inside my tight pants and throbbing like crazy. I felt embarrassed as all get-out, thinking, What if Margy glanced down and saw my hard on? She might think I had a dirty mind. But she just kept on hugging me and saying how happy she was to have a pretty young boy like me for company, especially because I 'appreciated' her. And she insisted on giving me little sips of her wine between her own sips, all the while running her fingers through my hair, finally getting around to slipping her hand under my shirt to play around with my bare chest.
"'Oh, my, what a beautiful body you have, dear!' she said, lifting my shirt all the way up to my neck. 'It's so soft and smooth. Just like a baby's. I love it. I just love it!' As she was doing that, I got a good close peek at her huge tits and nipples, and for the first time I started to get scared. I don't know why, I guess it was just that young boys aren't supposed to see such things, or maybe it was because Margy's tits were so big, so close ... and so bare. It was all I could do to keep from jumping up and running out of her apartment, that's how scared I was.
"Then it happened, the thing that took all the nerve out of me and made me Margy's prisoner. She looked, down and saw how my pants were sticking way out from my hard on.
"'Oh, sweet baby!' she cried out as she reached down between my legs and took hold of the big bump in my pants, her eyes popping and her mouth watering. 'You've got a hard on! How marvelous. How absolutely marvelous! I didn't realize that I was exciting you so.' Then the next thing I knew she was unzippering me, hauling out my dick and smothering it with kisses.
"I was so embarrassed and scared that I wanted to yell for her to stop, but somehow I couldn't. It felt so good what she was doing, I could only sit there helpless, staring down at her lips and tongue brushing over the head of my dick, thinking that maybe I'd better keep my promise to Archie and let Margy do whatever she wanted, otherwise he'd get mad and fire me, and then I'd be out on the street again, broke and hungry.
"I guess Margy read my mind, because in a couple of seconds she slipped my whole dick into her mouth and started sucking for all she was worth, even sucking my balls into her mouth along with my dick, but not for long. Just about the time my insides caught fire, a split second before I was going to shoot my come in her mouth, she pulled herself away with a happy moan and gave me another slobbery kiss on my lips.
"Sweetie pie, you're positively the most delicious little boy I've ever had in my life,' she purred. 'I love you dearly, and just to prove it, I'm going to take all my clothes off and let you suck my big breasts. You want that, I know, because I've noticed how you've been eyeing them hungrily, like maybe your mother didn't give you nearly enough of her breasts before weaning you. But you've got to take all of your clothes off, too, because I won't feel right being naked all by myself.' When she finished saying that, she hopped up and had herself completely naked before I could hardly bat an eye, "So what could I do? It was strip or lose my job. On top of that, it was strip or lose my chance to suck on those giant tits of Margy's. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the hot, tingly feeling in my balls, I don't know. All I know is that I wasn't scared anymore. Margy wasn't like any of the young girls I'd played with back on the farm -girls too bashful to even kiss, much less feel them up. Margy was a grown-up woman who'd been sucked and probably screwed, too, by a lot of guys, some of them young kids like me who worked for Archie. And here was Margy standing in front of me plumb naked, with tits three times as big as any girl I'd ever known, offering them to me on a silver platter.
"Golly, I thought as I took off my clothes as fast as I could, I wonder if she has any milk in her tits.
"Of course, the bedroom was a lot bettor for playing around naked than the living room, so that's where Margy took me, taking me by the arm and practically running in there with me. The bed covers were already pulled down-that's how experienced Margy was-and before I could think of anything, like what position to get into, she had me sprawled on my back, licking all up my legs and balls, crawling over me until her tits were hanging like big white melons over my face. Then she lowered one of her long, red nipples into my open mouth.
"'Okay, you tit-hungry little sweetheart,' she growled as she started to breathe real hard, 'now you've got what you want. Suck it good, then I'll give you the other one. And after that, if you do a good job, I'll give you my pussy to eat. Oh, yes, honey baby, that's what your Margy really likes ... having her pussy eaten. And you'll love it, too, because Margy's pussy is sweet like candy-hot, juicy, delicious candy.' "That did it! I was having fun sucking her nipples, trying to get some milk out of those giant cow-tits, but eating that hairy hole between her fat old legs was too much. The mere thought of it turned my stomach. 'No, Margy,' I said, turning my head aside from her tits. 'I'm sorry but I can't ... eat your pussy. I mean it's ... it's against my principles.' Actually, I thought it was too dirty of a thing to do, but I was being polite.
"Wow, did that ever set her off! 'Against your what?' she bellowed, sitting up on my chest and glaring down at me. 'Listen, sonny, you're working for Archie, which means that you don't have any principles, not where sex is concerned! Get this straight, I'm paying good money for your services, so, like it or not, you're going to eat my pussy!' With that she shoved her big butt forward, straddling my face, and dropped her great hairy gash down hard on my mouth.
"I tried turning my face to one side but it was no use, those big fat pussy lips had my face in a steel vise. I tried everything, kicking and squirming and pounding with my fists, but nothing worked. She was that heavy and strong-and determined. All I could do was eat her pussy the very best I could in the hope that she would come real quick and get off my face.
"'Yeah, that's it, you ornery little fucker,' Margy moaned as I shot my tongue deep into her pussyhole and started pumping it in and out. 'You're doing great, just great! Mmmmmm-mmmmmmmmmm, how I love that tongue-fucking! Oh, shit, you're driving me out of my mind!' "Of course, I hadn't learned yet what a clit was, but I figured it had to be in the pussy somewhere. 'Maybe it's one of the little things jumping against my nose,' I said to myself, raising my tongue up an inch higher and licking the little button I found there. Maybe, nothing! The next second Margy was in orbit, wailing like a sick calf and letting go with a flood of pussy juice that darn near drowned me. I mean, I was really gasping for air! But, lucky for me, she came real quick and I was saved.
"Delicious as candy? Phooey. Margy's pussy wasn't exactly sour, but it sure wasn't all that sweet, either.
"Her disposition definitely wasn't very sweet, because she got sore and turned on me again when I went to get my clothes on, yelling, 'Now just where in the hell do you think you're going, sonny boy? You're not through with me yet, not by a long shot. Get your sweet little ass back here in bed with me, do you hear? You still haven't fucked me and I aim to get my money's worth.' "So what could I do? I had to turn around and get back in bed with her. My dick had gotten soft, of course, what with the suffocation and all, but goofball Margy soon took care of that. Flopping me down on my back, she went right to work tonguing me all over my tits and belly while her hands toyed expertly With my dick and balls. From there she went to sucking my dick and balls, twirling her hot tongue all over, especially around the head of my dick.
"'Ah, there's a little passion juice in your sweet cock,' she murmured after sucking and swallowing it down. 'Really, I'd love to suck all of the nectar out of your sweet little balls, but right now what I want most is to be fucked by you.' "Well, I guess you know that it didn't take long for me to get back my hard on with that kind of treatment. In about two shakes my dick was standing up hard as steel, all four inches of it. And the next instant Margy had me between her fat, widespread legs, working my dick into her juicy hole With one hand while she pulled on the cheeks of my butt with the other.
"'Okay, baby boy, start fucking,' she said as her breathing got loud and fast all over again. 'I want you to really bang me good, because you doing it makes me feel like a young girl once more.' She closed her eyes then, and I could tell that she was imagining herself thirty years younger.
"Well, anyway, there I was, actually screwing a female for the first time in my life. Sure, Margy was old and she was no great beauty, but she was a woman, a female, and the thought of it really got me excited. I had jacked off many times, like most boys do, but this sure was a lot better-a hundred times better. I could feel the hot insides of old Margy's pussy squeezing and pulling and sucking on the whole length of my dick, especially on the head when I sank it all the way in, and it started to swell and throb like never before. I forgot about everything else in the world-my home back on the farm, my job with Archie, everything-thinking only of the excitement I was getting with Margy and how maybe, like she said, we could come together.
"'Fuck, baby boy ... fuck, fuck, fuck!' Margy moaned as she grabbed the cheeks of my butt with both hands and pulled me hard into her pussy.
"'Yeah, little girl, yeah, yeah, yeah!' I answered, sucking one of her hard, red nipples into my mouth and pumping my dick in her pussy faster.
"Did she ever like being called little girl. Did she ever love it. 'Oh, say that again, my own sweet lover boy,' she moaned. 'Say it again and again, and I'll adore you forever!' With that she sort of went nuts, crying and whimpering and shoving her big, fat butt so hard against me that I almost flew right off of her. Man, she was powerful!
"Then-wouldn't you know it?-we came. I mean, we came together. I shot the biggest wad of my whole life, and she exploded at the same time with a scream that must've been heard for miles around. It was the greatest sex experience I'd ever had in my life-screwing Margy, sucking her big tits at the same time and coming so much in her hot, fat pussy. And it must've been a lot of fun for her, too, because she slipped me twenty dollars on the side when I left her apartment.
"Just the same, I didn't want any more dates with Margy. I didn't want any more dates, period. Because I really did have principles. I didn't mind keeping company with old dames if that was all there was to it, but letting them make a sex slave out of me, that was something else. All I wanted when I took a taxi for Ronnie's place was to get some sleep, then head back to the farm where I could be myself again with Mom and Dad. Believe me, I'd had enough of city life and of having to 'service' old women for a living."
The case of Tim S-, perhaps more than any other, glaringly hints at the reason why male prostitutes are not as numerous as their female counterparts. It is not because there is a lesser demand for capable young males, who for a price will sexually "service" lonely, or insatiable, older women. Rather it is because, physiologically speaking, males cannot "handle" sex as well as females can. A female prostitute can cater consecutively to any number of men in any one night. She needs no physiological preparation. A male, on the other hand, is useless unless he achieves an erection, and-except for few extraordinary cases bordering on satyriasis-there is a limited number of times within a set period of time that he can be sexually useful to a female. As Robert E. Rothenberg, in his The Medical Guide to Sex and Marriage, points out: After orgasm, blood flows out of the spaces in the penis back into the general circulation. The penis returns to a flaccid state although it may remain somewhat larger than it was prior to the onset of intercourse. A rest period is required before erection can take place again. The length of the rest period will vary markedly and is influenced by innumerable circumstances. Some men, when exceptionally passionate or when actively stimulated by a very passionate female, may be able to become erect again within just a few minutes; the great majority, however, will require anywhere from a half to one hour for this to take place....
... If intercourse has taken place after a strenuous day's work, it may not be possible for him to be aroused a second time....
When one, therefore, considers the fact that the customers of a call boy need satiation, and that for this sexual service they pay money, one can see that not many men are in feet "qualified" for the male prostitute's job.
As the balance of Tim's case will show, he was not-in spite of his initial willingness to try what appeared to be an easy and pleasant "job"-qualified for it. Or, at least, he did not feel that he was. And, wisely, he in the end decided to reject a life he certainly was not suited for.
The subject's entry upon the call-boy scene is a classic example of how the majority of the members of that "profession" enter it. In a way it harks back to the "original cause" of prostitution: need or necessity. It is an answer of sorts to the survival instinct that is bolstered by the sexual urge. Although S. Kirson Weinberg, discussing the recruitment of prostitutes in his Social Problems in Modem Urban Society, speaks of female prostitutes, his analysis of the situation is applicable to either gender involved and is particularly applicable to the subject of this case. He writes: The belief persists that many innocent girls are lured and coerced into prostitution by a process akin to white slavery. Although this practice existed in the early part of this century, the contemporary prostitute is recruited chiefly by other prostitutes or by procurers. Like the career criminal, she becomes a prostitute by associating with other prostitutes or with persons who strive to predispose her towards prostitution. These associates persuade or coerce her into becoming a prostitute, and she learns the techniques of her craft from confirmed prostitutes. [Walter] Reckless [in The Crime Problem] has pointed out that in this country the girl who enters prostitution most likely has had previous sexual experience, lacks the skills for a satisfactory job and regards prostitution as a vocational opportunity....
The case of Tim S-may be considered as the case of the recruit who failed. It is the case of a perfectly normal youth, at least as far as his sexuality is concerned.
Undoubtedly, were one to seek the "original cause" of his venture into the call-boy sphere one could say that "it was caused by the home environment." He did run away from home, didn't he? The problem with retroanalysis of this sort, however, is that it is too often carried to a ridiculous extreme. All one needs to do to shatter this type of reasoning is to hypothesize a somewhat different link in the chain of events. Specifically, one could visualize the subject, rather than meeting Archie the procurer of the case, encountering a more respectable member of the "strange city" in which he found himself, being offered a job in, say, an attorney's office, or being put through college, and eventually winding up on the Supreme Court bench. One must accept the fact that in the United States-where backwoodsmen and cobblers can become presidents-almost anything is possible. Consequently, although the past can play an extremely active role on the eventual development of a person's life, it is the immediate events, choices, and decisions of the present that determine the direction of his future-until other environ mental factors alter this direction.
This case may be considered somewhat unique in that Tim did not succumb to the hedonistic freedom that he was offered. One of the reasons for this could be his relatively tender age and the fact that his exposure to sex with all of its deviations was unexpected and sudden, as he himself admits. Furthermore, it is apparent that he did not-in spite of the physical pleasure that he derived from his sexual congress with his customers-feel comfortable in a carnal vis-a-vis with women who were old enough to be his mother for whom he apparently did not hold any viable disrespect.
Another factor that undoubtedly contributed to his final decision to escape his newfound freedom and to return to the home from which he had run away was the realization that he was in fact considered by Archie as "property," a commodity to be rented out whenever and to whomever the procurer pleased. The situation was tantamount to the proverbial "jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire." Needless to say, the physical exertion to which he was subjected by some of the women not only could not compare to whatever discomforts he might have been exposed to in his family environment, but also minimized, if not totally negated, the sexual gratification he obtained with those very women.
As the balance of the subject's narrative will show, he began eventually to develop a questioning attitude toward the situation he had inadvertently found himself in. He was, indeed, "a lamb caught in a pack of she-wolves," and he recognized the situation.
The subject comes into startling perspective when one attempts to compare him to one of the procurer's other sexual pawns, namely Ronnie. The latter, probably because of a different home environment and because he came upon the call-boy scene a chronologically later age, is a hardened professional and is-as far as one can judge from the little information available on him -inextricably caught in the procurer's mercenary net. It is extremely doubtful that he possesses any genuine sense of accomplishment. He is a bona fide stud in the field of lonely and insatiable women.
When one considers the subject's age at the time of his recruitment into Archie's service, one cannot classify the latter as anything other than an unscrupulous, self-centered, and mercenarily greedy exploiter of the young caught unprepared at a moment of confusion and need.
"When I got back to Ronnie's apartment, he was gone-out on a date, I found out later. So I just plopped myself in bed, dead tired, and had myself some good dreams of the farm where I planned to be in a couple of days. I probably would've slept until noon the next day, but then- wouldn't you know it?-Archie showed up early in the morning. "Letting himself in with his own key, Archie yanked the covers off me and said real loud: 'Hey, champ, c'mon, wake up. I've got another date for you, a real good one with a hefty bonus in it for you if you treat her right.' Then when I sat up, still half asleep, he went on to tell me how happy he was with how I'd done with Margy. Seems she phoned him and asked for me again in a few days.
"I wanted to tell Archie that I was through with the job, but, golly, he was so friendly and proud of me that I couldn't get up the nerve, especially when he slipped a couple of twenties into my hand and said they were just a little something extra from him to me.
"'This new date, what's she like, Archie?' I asked, hoping that she was a raunchy old bag type that I could use as an excuse to bail out.
"'She's Oriental, Tim, a beautiful Oriental broad from Hong Kong who's loaded with dough, but just too damn shy to meet boys on her own. Her name is Sue and she's not very old-about thirty, I'd say. Tells me she likes the companionship of boys because they sort of bring back memories of the son she lost to the commies on the mainland.' "Well, of course, that made a whale of a difference, she being Oriental and kind of young and very shy. If all she wanted was to be reminded of her lost son, then I saw no reason why I shouldn't go ahead and keep the date. So what if I didn't look like a Chinese kid? At least I could pretend if that would make her happy. Probably she just wanted to talk about her lost son and about China while we drank tea together, which would be just fine with me.
"So I agreed and got myself dressed in another one of the special outfits Archie bought for me-I mean special because they were different from what I was used to. About an hour later, Archie dropped me off at her hotel in downtown Manhattan.
"He hadn't lied to me, either. Sue really was beautiful and about thirty years old. And she talked real shy when she asked me in, though not with much of a Chinese accent. 'So you're little Tim, how very nice,' she said with a pretty little smile, looking me over with those twinkling slanted eyes of hers. 'Sit down, please, Timmy, while I get some tea.' "Yeah, I was batting a thousand, so far. This is sure a lot better than last night with old goofball Margy, I thought as I watched Sue leave the living room in her sleek and silky Chinese gown, sort of admiring her nifty shape. And to think that I'm getting paid good money just for being here with Sue for a couple of hours, talking and drinking tea with her. What a snap!
"But, as I soon found out, it really wasn't going to be a snap. I was going to earn my money, every nickel of it, because Sue had not only made us a pot of tea in the five minutes she was gone, she had taken off all her clothes except for her pretty little jade-colored panties that barely covered her pussy. Also, she had let her long black hair down, so that she looked much younger with her tiny little cupcake tits and thin, smooth body.
"'You don't mind, do you, if I make myself comfortable?' she asked real softly. 'It's an old Chinese custom, you know, when a girl entertains a boy she likes.' "'No, I don't mind,' I answered, staring at her tits and panties and feeling my dick beginning to get hard. 'I want you to be comfortable, especially if it's your custom.' "That brought a big smile to her pretty face and the next second she was parked across from me in a chair, pouring tea in the little Chinese cups she had set on the low table between us. This is special Chinese tea,' she said without looking up. 'It warms your blood and gets you in the mood for love.' "So the cat was out of the bag. Sue didn't want me for polite talk or to remind her of the son she'd lost-she wanted sex. And Archie, that dirty guy, he must've known it, too. I'd been tricked! But then maybe I hadn't been tricked after all. Both Archie and Ronnie had told me to expect most anything from my dates. And I had agreed to it-I had agreed to be nice to the old gals Archie lined up for me and give them all the fun they wanted. Because that's what they were paying for.
"'Gee, I've never had any tea that does that to you,' I said, picking up the cup of tea she had poured for me and thinking that since I had come this far, I might as well go the rest of the way. At least, Sue was a lot better looking than old Margy, and she probably wouldn't be nearly so tough. At least, Sue wouldn't be apt to sit on my face.
"'I'm sure you will like it,' Sue said as I took the first sip. 'It will give you the biggest hard on you ever had and it will make me very passionate, too, so that we can make the most beautiful love together. You're so nice and young, Timmy-just perfect for me. I know we're going to have a wonderful, wonderful time today and tonight and maybe all day tomorrow, too. Tell me, you don't mind spending so much time with me, do you?' "'No, I don't mind,' I answered, beginning to feel a little tingly sensation all over me from the tea, especially in my dick. By now my dick was really hard, what with the sight of Sue's almost naked body and drinking the tea. On top of that, I was beginning to get sexy ideas, like what it would be like to suck on Sue's pretty little tits, and what her pussy looked like. If her pussy was half as pretty as the rest of her, I thought, it would, be wonderful to see-maybe even to eat.
"So Sue didn't waste any time getting down to business when I satisfied her that I'd go along with anything she had in mind. 'Hurry, my darling little boy, my love. Drink down your tea,' she said as she finished her own cup and stood up in the center of the room, stepping out of her panties, showing me a puffy little pussy that could've belonged to a baby. I swear it's the truth. Sue's pussy didn't have the tiniest bit of hair on it. And her at least thirty years old. Wow!
"A couple of seconds later, I was out in the center of the living room with her, naked as a jaybird, my dick sticking way out hard as cement. 'Ahhhhhh, yes, I knew it!' she purred, taking my balls in one hand and my dick in the other, 'you're not only a beautiful boy but a real sexy one, too. Your cock and balls are so lovely, so delicious looking, I've just got to take them in my mouth.' And with that she dropped to her knees and did what she said.
"But not for long. A couple of seconds later she was on her back on the thick, soft carpet, lifting her knees up high and spreading them wide, begging me, 'Timmy, please, please fuck me! I'm so passionate, so terribly passionate! Your little cock and balls in my mouth has set my cunt on fire. If you don't fuck me quick I'll go out of my mind!' "She wasn't kidding, either. I could see her eyes rolling back, and I could hear her sort of gasping for breath. Not only that, but I could see in her open pussy, all around the hole and folds of pink meat, a lot of glistening juice flowing out, reminding me of the spring we had back on the farm. I loved to drink out of that spring, the water was so cool and refreshing, and now, looking at Sue's beautiful pink pussy, I wanted to drink from it, too.
"'Miss Sue, you're so beautiful laying there like that,' I said to her as I fell down on my hands and knees between her legs, 'that I'll do anything and everything you want me to. I'll screw you until you come a hundred times, but first, if it's all right with you, I want to drink some of your pussy juice. Is that all right? Can I drink some of your pussy juice?' "'Yes, yes, yes!' she cried out, twisting like crazy in her passion, 'but please hurry. I can't wait much longer for your fucking!' "So I hurried. I sank my face into her pussy and licked for all I was worth for a few seconds, drinking the most delicious pussy juice in the whole wide world and loving every single drop of it. Then I shoved forward, eased my throbbing, rock-hard dick into her boiling-hot pussy, took one of her beautiful little cupcake tits full in my mouth and started my fucking.
"Boy, did Sue and me ever go at it then! I don't know what it was that got us so worked up-the tea, maybe, or maybe it was our natural passions -but whatever it was, we sure went to town, humping and squirming and bouncing around on the floor like a couple of infuriated wrestlers.
"Sue was the first to come. And how she did come. It was beautiful. She started crying at first, groaning out loud like a whipped baby, the tears pouring out of her slanted eyes, then laughing and saying a lot of things to me in Chinese that I didn't understand, though I could guess. While she was laughing and humping her little butt hard against me, I caught fire and exploded, too, shooting so much come into her belly that I thought she'd burst, all the while sucking harder and harder on those delicious tits of hers.
"Then, completely out of strength, we just sort of collapsed and died there on the floor.
"I don't know how long we were out, maybe an hour or two, but I do know that Sue was far from through. You see, she had woke up first and fixed herself some more of that special love tea. By the time I got around to waking up, she was hotter than a Chinese firecracker all over again and determined to drink me dry as I had tried to drink her dry before the big screw session. What I mean is, I woke up to find that Sue had my dick in her mouth, sucking on it for all she was worth.
"It's a wonder my dick could get hard so soon after my big come, but Sue sure had it hard, as hard as it could possibly get. And I've got to admit that what she was doing to it felt good. She had a way of sucking my dick that was ten times better than Margy's way. For one thing, Su e fucked it with her mouth instead of holding it in and tonguing it. And for another thing, she made the muscles in her mouth tight around it, squeezing like the muscles in a pussy.
"But she stopped when she saw me awake and came up with a better idea. 'Hello, my darling boy lover,' she greeted me. 'I'm so glad to see that you're awake, because I want to get your permission for something.' "'Hi, Miss Sue. You're sure getting me hot again doing that. What do you want my permission for?' "She turned her eyes to my dick then as her expression changed. She wasn't smiling sweet and shy anymore. Instead there was a weird sort of wild-animal look on her face, wide-eyed and drooling, like a starved cat with a mouse in its claws.
"'I want to drink your boy come,' she said, gathering up my balls in one hand, stroking my dick with the other. 'Not just a little of it, but a whole lot-all you've got. I'll pay you well for it darling, because I need it. I've got to have it!' "The way she said that and the way she looked at my dick had me plenty scared, I don't mind admitting. But I'd gone this far with her and figured that I might as well go a little farther. Besides, she said that she'd pay me well, and I could use the extra dough. I'd already made up my mind to leave New York for the farm when I finished with Sue, and the more money I could leave with the better.
"'Sure, Miss Sue, sure,' I said, still a little scared at the wild, starved look on her face. 'Go ahead, you can have all I've got.' "Wow, I sure shouldn't have said that. I should've jumped up and got out of there right then. Because the next instant Sue gave a growl, closed her mouth deep around my dick and started sucking like a maniac, pumping and slurping and pulling on my balls, all the time growling louder and louder.
"In no time at all she had my balls on fire and my dick exploding with come. But-d'ya know what?-the crazy dame didn't slow up a bit. She just gulped my come down, draining my balls completely empty, and went on with her mad sucking and growling.
"Golly, I couldn't stand it, her going on and on like that! It was terrible torture. She was turning my guts inside out, trying to get more and more and more of my come. 'Oh, please stop!' I yelled at her. But it didn't do a bit of good. She only gripped my balls tighter, threatening to tear them off if I didn't let her have her way.
"And I tried pushing on her head desperately, and rolling my body away, and kicking at her rear. But that didn't work, either. In fact, it made matters worse, because every time I tried force, she bit down on my dick with her sharp teeth and yanked harder on my balls, causing me even greater torture.
"Then suddenly, after a few minutes that seemed like hours, the terrible, painful cramps went away and her wild sucking started feeling good again, not as good as before, but good enough to make me want it. 'Okay, Miss Sue,' I said with the sweat pouring down my face, 'once more and that's all. I know I can come only once more.' "'Yeah, yeah, yeah!' I heard her mumbling with her growls. 'Give me more ... give me more!' "And about five minutes later I gave her more. It felt like I was shooting a hundred gallons into her throat, but I know it must've been just a little bit. The most I could ever come when I jacked off back on the farm was only about a teaspoon or so. Just the same, Sue sucked up every drop, going after it like her life depended on it.
"Still she didn't get enough! The crazy Chinese sex maniac still wanted more! She wouldn't let go of my dick and balls for even a split second, though I screamed and kicked and bawled my head off, begging her to stop what she was doing. 'You're killing me, killing me!' I bawled, the tears pouring out of my eyes. 'I can't take anymore, do you hear? I can't take anymore!' "But she went right on, not caring if she killed me or not. She was completely out of her mind, so it was useless for me to beg. I don't think she even heard me, she was so out of her mind. All she could think of was sucking my dick, filling her belly with my come, no matter if it killed us both.
"I can't explain it, honestly I can't, but somehow, while I was squirming and bawling away in my torture, feeling all my strength disappearing, the feeling in my half-hard dick got kind of good again. It got better and better for about, I don't know, I guess ten or fifteen minutes, then I shot once more-a tiny bit. It took every last ounce of strength I had left. I felt myself passing out, but I didn't care.
"Maybe it was just a few hours before I came to, and maybe it was a whole day, I don't know. Anyway, when I opened my eyes, Sue was gone. She was nowhere in the apartment, which, of course, was plenty okay with me. But there was a note pinned to my clothes which said: 'Thanks a million. You're beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Please come back again if you can find it in your heart to forgive me.' And pinned to the note was a hundred-dollar bill.
"Well anyway, Sue had kept her word and paid me well. I didn't tell Archie about the hundred when I saw him, of course. He was waiting at Ronnie's and I just told him that my date with Sue was so-so, that I'd done everything to make her happy, and that I was through working for him. I appreciated all he'd done for me, I told him, but I'd had enough of horsing around with old women. I thought he'd see how worn out I was from my torture session with Sue, but he either didn't or wouldn't own up to it. Instead, he hit the ceiling.
"'Oh, no you don't, buddy boy!' he said. 'You can't leave me now, not when I've just got through lining up another good date for you. We've got a contract, remember? I said that I'd pay you by the month, not by the date, so you've got to work for me at least a month. This gal I've got lined up will be expecting you at eight, six hours from now, so be ready. Try to skip out on me, and I'll kick your ass up around your neck, is that clear?' "'Archie meant it, too. He was big and tough enough to handle two kids my size, and it was plain that Ronnie would've snitched if I tried to skip out of his apartment before Archie came back to take me on the date. I could tell by the way Ronnie scowled at me in his high-and-mighty way that he was a snitcher. So when Archie left us alone, there was nothing I could do but get something to eat, take a good long nap, and be ready for the next old biddy, whoever the bitch was.
"Sarah turned out to be a fat old tub about fifty years of age who lived in a small cottage far out in the country, about twenty miles from downtown Manhattan. Did I sat fat? Sarah was as huge as a baby elephant. And that was just fine with me because, after all, how could any woman so big have sex with a little guy like me?
"Of course, I was wrong. I should've known by then that Archie's customers didn't want young boys like me just for Sunday-school sessions or for charity. They wanted sex with kids who could make them feel like sweet little virgin girls all over again. And, on top of that, they wanted a dick that could not only get hard but stay hard through a whole lot of screwing and ... well, that business with Sue.
"Sarah was no different. I mean, the only difference was that she was worse than the others. She didn't offer me any ginger ale or tea or anything like that when she let me in. She just lifted me up in her arms, squashed me between her huge balloon tits, planted a slobbery kiss on my mouth and said: 'Ooooooo, baby, aren't you a nice one, the youngest little boy-whore I've had yet! I'll bet you don't even have any hair around your cock and balls, do you now?' "'Yes, I'm old enough to have some hair,' I answered, wishing that she'd stop her slobbering on my face and let me down.
"'Oh, well, a little hair is nice, my dear,' she giggled as she carried me into her bedroom. 'But I've gotta see. Yeah, sweetie, I've gotta see everything you've got. And I want you to see everything I've got, too. What I've got to show you is plenty-and I do mean plenty.' I believed her.
"As soon as we got into her bedroom, Sarah put me down and ordered me to strip down naked, at the same time fumbling to pull her tent of a dress up over her head. Instead of undressing I wanted real badly to turn and run, taking a taxi or hitching a ride to the nearest bus depot and getting out of New York as fast as I could. But I could still hear Archie's threat to kick my ass up around my neck. Maybe he was waiting outside Sarah's place, I thought, figuring that I'd run away. That thought was enough to keep me right where I was.
"Then both Sarah and me were naked, and looking at her, I couldn't believe it. Holy gee, I couldn't even see her pussy, her belly and legs were so big! All I could see was fat, tons and tons of it, with that little round face on top, smiling at me like I was a tasty pork chop or something.
"'Ah, you are a pretty one, you are,' she said, licking her lips and reaching for me. 'You don't have a hard on yet, but I'll fix that soon enough. Then after I've sucked your darling little peter for a minute or two to get you in the mood, I'm going to let you fuck me good. And don't look so dumbfounded, sweetie. Just because you can't see my cunt don't mean that I haven't got one. I've been fucked by a lot of Archie's boys, only they don't do it the old-fashioned way-they do it dog-fashion.' With that she picked me up, laid me down on the bed, and put my soft little dick in her mouth.
"Two-ton Sarah was a pretty good sucker, I'll have to say that, because she had my dick hard in nothing flat. Then, true to her word, she let go of my dick, struggled to her hands and knees on the edge of the bed and said: 'Okay, baby boy, if you'll stand down on the floor and take a good look, you'll see my cunt. It's there for you to fuck from the rear, and you'd better do a good job of it, kiddo, because if you don't, I won't give you any of the apple strudel I made this morning. Believe me, I make the best apple strudel in the whole cockeyed world.' "So I got down on the floor and took a gander at Sarah's pussy. No, I don't mean pussy, I mean Grand Canyon. Holy Toledo, there was enough room in that huge, flabby slit of hers for three guys my size! And hair-she had more hair on her pussy than she had on her head. It was the awfulest mess of hair and flab that I could ever imagine. And I don't mind telling you, it scared the shit out of me.
"Archie or no Archie, I had to get away from Sarah but quick. Leaving the fat old bag still perched on her hands and knees waiting for me to earn some of her strudel, I quietly picked up my clothes and split. I didn't go out the front way, but out the back, putting my clothes on in the back porch, then heading for the nearest boulevard where I caught a taxi. Lucky for me, I got to the bus depot just as one was loading passengers for my home state.
"Looking back now on that weird experience of working for Archie, I can only say that I wish it hadn't happened. I'm kind of soured on older women. I'm even soured on girls, because I know that some day they will grow up to be old women, too."
There is a disturbing note underlying the subject's last words; however, it is felt that with time, after the memories of his "weird experience of working for Archie" become overshadowed by new and emotionally more rewarding experiences, the subject will alter his attitude toward both older women and girls. He will probably come to the realization that "some day he will grow up to be a man."
CHAPTER THREE- His First Real Job
"Do you know that most people don't even think guys like me exist? It's true. I don't know why. Everyone knows about gay hustlers, so I guess it has to do with the American image of women. Women would never sink so low as to hire a man for sexual reasons. At least, not enough of them would to make it a full-time occupation for guys like me.
"Wrong. Plenty of them do, and some of these women I've been with have been real honey-faces. Look, lots of women aren't getting what they want at home and their social position makes it imperative that they don't get caught balling the towel boy at the country club. That's where I come in- safe, reliable, virile, and ready for anything. All for a price that's gauged to the service asked.
"I quit high school in the tenth grade. Not that I didn't want to go on, but my father was killed in a truck accident, and I had to earn money to support my mother and the other kids.
"That was back in Florida. We lived in a small town right outside of Orlando.
"I'd been working there for about three months, and I'd already gotten damned tired of that scene. My hands were beginning to wrinkle and scar, and when I'd look at the grease monkeys who'd been on the job for ten years or more I'd say to myself, 'That's not for me.' Of course, I had no idea how I'd get out of it-I just knew I had more coming from life than a pump handle.
"So there I was, sixteen, six-foot-one, a hundred and seventy pounds, blond hair and blue eyes. A typical Florida boy. One day, out of boredom, I began to play a game.
"I'd always try to get the out-of-state cars and let Jim-the other kid pumpin' gas-take the local cars. I sort of got a kick out of servicing the cars that were really going someplace.
"I'd wait until the car pulled into the station, get a look at the plate and then either race over to it if it was out-of-state or stand there and let Jim handle it if it was one of the local assholes.
"It was just a way around the boredom. I'd strike up conversations with the people, ask them where they were going. Most of course were on their way to Miami. I'd never been there.
"One morning, about ten, this convertible pulls in and right away I know it's out-of-state. See, Florida only issued one license plate in those days and you put it in the back, so any time I saw a car comin' with a front plate I knew it was out-of-state. I ran over to the pumps just as the car stopped.
"It was a snappy convertible and the driver was something to see! Dark hair to her shoulders, a beautiful face, and when she got out of the car ... damn. She was a fine-looking lady, all legs, ass and tits. She looked like a pin-up drawing-one of those amazing, almost unreal chicks. I guess I was staring at her.
"'Hi,' she said. 'How much longer to Miami?' "I couldn't think, but I realized I'd have to say something. 'Five hours,' I answered.
"That didn't seem to make her happy. She looked tired. 'Hope I can make it,' she said. Then she looked at me. 'I've been driving since Philadelphia,' she said. 'I'm trying to make Miami straight through, but I don't know if I can.' "Sure, now I'd pick up a line like that immediately. But I was a sixteen-year-old kid then. She hinted around a bit more and saw I wasn't getting it. Finally, she just asked right out: 'Could you help me drive there?' "Sounded real good to me. Of course, there was the family to think about. I decided to see if she was good for a few bucks.
"'Look. I'll have to quit my job here, and I've got to leave my family with some money. Can you swing a loan or something till I get rolling in Miami? Then I'll pay you back.' "She gave me a smile that hustlers reserve for one another. She thought I was hustling her because that was her trip, hustling men. But she went along with it. She reached into her purse and peeled two fifties off a roll. That was two weeks' take-home for me from the gas station. 'Will that do it?' she asked. "It damned sure would. I finished with her car and paid for the gas myself out of the hundred. I figured I'd leave Mom with fifty, take the rest with me and get a job in Miami. I figured the pay would be better there.
"She drove me home. I showered and shaved, then packed an airline bag with all I was going to take. Mom wasn't home-she was probably babysitting somewhere to pick up some extra money. I left the fifty under an ashtray with a note telling her not to worry that I'd be in Miami. Then we left.
"That was the best trip in my life. Donna, my beautiful, rich friend, told me all about herself. I guess she decided to level with me in order to see how I'd respond. She'd been hustling for about five years, and she really dug it. She only hustled rich men who needed a girl who looked classy and could hold a conversation. Donna had a master's degree but she preferred hustling to working.
"We arrived in Miami that night, and she drove right over the bridge to Miami Beach. 'Only Cubans and migrant workers stay in Miami,' she said. I was so naive I didn't even understand the put-down.
"We checked into a motel and then unloaded the car. She had three suitcases and a bunch of smaller bags. I realized she was planning to stay a while.
"We decided to grab a bite to eat then. The motel had a sandwich shop, and we both had steak sandwiches. I paid the bill, and I saw that she smiled when I picked up the check.
"When we got back to the room, she said she wanted to shower first, so I watched TV while she was in there. Let me tell you, my cock was hard as hell just thinking about what Donna looked like naked, but I wanted to be cool. I had no idea that she dug me, that's how dumb I was. I figured she was just bein' nice to a kid, giving me a break to come to Miami.
"She came out in an ugly old bathrobe that turned me off a little because it reminded me of my mother. I took my shower and put on a fresh pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I wore the same pair of Levi's I'd worn all day.
"When I got through, I walked back into the bedroom. She was already in bed with the covers up around her neck. She was watching some horse-shit TV show. I sat on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette.
"She was looking at me. I could see her face out of the corner of my eye. Then she smiled and let the covers drop below her breasts. She was naked.
"Her tits were beautiful! She was still smiling, and I'd turned my head to stare at those tits. Perfect little circles enclosed the nipples, all pink and juicy-looking.
"'C'mon,' she said. 'Help me get off!' "I put out my cigarette and rolled towards her, my hands grabbing for those tits. She sighed when I grabbed them, arching her back to me, loving what I was doing.
"Then I was sucking them, and her nipples were hard and my tongue rolled them between my teeth. She liked that. My cock was throbbing in my pants, and I had to get out of my clothes or risk an early death due to strangulation.
"I stood up. She was all attentive now, and there was a soft blue to her eyes that told me she really liked to fuck. Her face was usually clear and bright-looking, but now it was softened, almost dazed, as she looked at me. I saw a movement underneath the covers. Donna had a hand between her legs and was playing with herself as I stood there! I'd never seen a girl do that before.
"I pulled the covers down. She was naked all the way, her hand gliding in and out between her legs. She gasped when she saw my cock and her hand moved faster and faster. I sat on the bottom of the bed and told her to spread her legs.
"'Open 'em up,' I said. 'I've never seen a girl do that, and you're so beautiful I want you to be the one to show me!' "Her legs opened up, and she sort of bumped her pussy at me. Her hands were pulling and twisting, fingering and moving all over her pussy. It was swollen and wet-looking. She had a smile on her face and her eyes were barely open.
"'Like what you see?' she asked.
"'I sure as hell do,' I answered, my hand beginning to pull at my cock. I was hard as hell, and I guess I naturally started to beat off because that's usually all I could do back home.
"'Don't waste your come,' she said. 'I want it- all of it!' "I crawled up further on the bed until my face was no more than six inches from the action. That turned her on for she reached down with her other hand and sort of pulled her pussy open for me.
"It was pink and wet, and the meat inside was a beautiful color. I'd never seen anything like that before. She giggled at me. 'Have a taste,' she said. 'It tastes as good as it looks!' "I leaned forward and extended my tongue. It was hot and salty, but I loved it. I pressed my face closer as she moved her pussy up and down across my face, smearing herself from my forehead to my chin.
"'I knew you'd be a good one,' she whispered.
"I grinned and licked her some more. It was a lot of fun. It was also the first time I'd gone down on anyone. I loved the feel of pussy against my mouth. I'd just plaster my mouth against her hole and let her do what she wanted.
"'Let me have your cock,' she said. I sat up. 'What?' I asked. She smiled and came forward and gave me a big hug. 'Just sit there,' she said. She scooted down on the bed so that I was looking at the back of her head. Then I felt her mouth on my cock.
"Damn! None of the girls I'd gone out with before would do that, and I never knew until then what I'd been missing. She kissed my pecker and then sucked it right in, licking it with her tongue and sucking gently on it. I was all wet and damned near ready to go!
"'Hold on!' I didn't want to come in her mouth and get her mad at me. It didn't occur to me that a chick would want a guy's come in her mouth.
"She just sucked and sucked. Finally she took her mouth off my cock and said, 'Anytime a girl sucks you, let her suck you until she's had enough. If you want to come, go right ahead-if she doesn't like it, she can spit it out!' "And I could feel it coming, let me tell you. It was all I could do to sit there and not run my hand up and down my cock once, 'cause that's all it would've taken to blow my cookies all over the bed!
"'Want me to suck you off all the way?' I couldn't believe my ears when she asked that. I nodded-I didn't even have the nerve to answer her.
"She smiled and got back to it. This time she bobbed her head up and down, making a windy noise as she sucked. I was ready in an instant it seemed, and then I grabbed her head and fucked her mouth as hard as I could.
"The come damn near exploded out of me. I made her take every drop, and she did, without losing a beat. Her mouth was wrapped around my pecker head, and she let my juices shoot out into her mouth. Every now and then she'd thrust her tongue over my hole.
"I fell back on the bed exhausted. She was still at it. She was licking my cock all over, then sucking on my nuts. It felt good, all right, but I was unable to keep it hard. Soon it wilted. Then she sort of chewed on it, her mouth easily capable of accepting my entire soft cock. It felt good that way in her mouth-warm, wet, secure.
"Then she sat up. 'You've got a lot more of that in you,' she said. 'How old are you?' "I wanted to lie, but I decided not to. I liked her. 'Sixteen,' I answered. She nodded, obviously pleased by my answer.
"'That's good. A little older and you wouldn't be what I'm looking for. Boys your age are the best -you can come and come!' "I figured she was talking about her and me. Hell, it was only natural. By this time I'd figured that she must've fallen in love with me at first sight-boy! talk about a hayseed!-and she was just talking about how good I was.
"Of course, now we both know what she was talking about-my future as a call boy in Miami Beach.
"She was staring at me now. 'You ever measure your cock?' she asked. I said no. 'It's a good-sized one,' she said. 'It might be a good gimmick.' "She was losing me now. She got up and went over to one of her suitcases and opened it up. She rummaged around a while and then came back with a tape measure. 'Get it up,' she said.
"I didn't know what was going on, but I knew better than to object-pumping gas makes you an unquestioning sort of person.
"I grabbed my meat and started beating off. It was easy to get hard again, what with her beautiful naked body right in front of me, just standing there. I leaned forward and sucked on one of her tits and that really got me hard.
"'That's good,' she said. I leaned back and she got to her knees, the tape measure in her hands. She extended it along the topside of my cock. 'Eight inches!' she cried.
"I knew that was good. I smiled at her. 'I'm not impressed,' she said with a smile. 'All cocks feel the same to me. But some women like to deal with big numbers, and that's you!' "Donna's eyes were locked onto my cock. 'No sense letting a good hard on like that get away,' she said.
"She got on the bed, lying on her back, and opened her legs. 'Fuck me,' she said, and her eyes were getting that dazed look that I saw before.
"I climbed aboard. Her cunt was tight as a glove, hot as hell and almost uncomfortable-but those are the best kind, because after you fuck for a while and that cunt loosens up a little, you've got a good fuck going.
"I whipped it in and out a couple of times while she moved her pussy with me, her hips rocking in exact unison with the timing of my thrusts.
"She loved it, that much I could see. No wonder she hustled for a living-she was a born fucker, and the kind of girl who would never be more than a day away from some cock.
"She was hot as hell-I'd forgotten that she didn't get off before, that she'd sucked me off instead-so she really wanted this come.
"And I was in good shape. I'd just come, so I knew I wasn't going to blow off too early or anything like that. I felt I could fuck her forever, give her five or sex comes and make her mine for life.
"Boy, I was something else then.
"She was grinding herself against me, our pubic bones banged against one another as she eagerly thrust up against me, taking all my cock as often as she could. I like to lean back and just let the end of my pecker tickle the cunt, but she wasn't like that. She liked the feel of all eight inches of thick meat in her so she could wiggle around on it, hump it, sit on it, anything as long as it was all in her, from the bulbous head to the thick root.
"She really did know how to fuck! Damn, she had so many moves that I was content to just lie on top of her and let her go through her bag of tricks. Her cunt felt a lot like her mouth. It felt like it was sucking you in and nibbling on your cockhead.
"I could feel my cock swelling, and I realized I was ready to come again. Damn, I thought. It was too soon, because I didn't think she'd even gotten off once!
"I pushed forward, lodging my cock all the way in, and then I took care to keep it there as she twisted and turned. If you're all the way in like that and not sliding back and forth, you can last a little longer because the friction is cut down.
"It was all she needed. She started to groan and bump her hips up at me, and then her legs encircled my back and I felt her lock her heels behind me. She was going crazy, her eyes closed, one hand squeezing her tit until it got almost blood-red.
"I was watching her and beginning to feel dizzy. I'd never seen a girl that liked to fuck as much as she did. It was kind of frightening, but I was so fucking hot I didn't care.
"She humped and humped and then held it, her cunt squeezing my cock very hard with a milking sensation. I began to fuck her back, pulling it out and slamming it in.
"She was so tight now that it was kind of hard going, but I knew she loved it. I worked my cock back and forth in her while she relaxed and let it happen. I fucked her good and proper.
"I'd lost that feeling that I was going to come. I don't know why, but I was able to fuck her hard for about ten minutes, and by then she was almost unconscious from it all. Her legs had fallen off my back and were lying on the bed, and she was totally relaxed under me-almost like fucking a sleeping woman. But I liked it, and I kept it up until she started showing signs of life again.
"Her legs bent at the knees and she began a frenzied humping that was very fast, too fast for me to respond to with humps of my own. Her hips were flying up and down, sucking my cock up and then letting it out.
"She was moaning and groaning, her eyes still closed. I edged my head down and sucked a nipple into my mouth, and when she felt my teeth on her tender meat, she froze. Then slowly she started humping again, her hand on the back of my head, holding my mouth in place.
"She'd lodged the heel of her foot between my buttocks and I could feel the soft flesh of her foot pressing against my asshole. It was a funny feeling, but it was nice.
"I opened my legs a little and I felt it even better. Then she stopped everything and told me to get on my back. I pulled out of her and flopped over on the bed. She was looking at me, her eyes traveling up and down my body.
"'You're going to do very well,' she said, her tongue licking her lips. She leaned forward and sucked on my cock, taking the whole length of my shaft into her mouth. Then she sat up.
"'I want to get on top,' she said. She straddled me and grabbed my cock. Then she sat down on it slowly. I watched her as she did. Her face was really puffy now, her hair all messed up, but she looked better than she had before.
"She let herself down slowly, taking the whole length into her. Then she started sort of spinning on it, twisting from side to side and bouncing up and down on it. She leaned forward and her tits were on a level with my mouth. I raised up a bit and began sucking. First one, then the other. It was great!
"I could feel her pussy even better in this position. She had more control or something, but it seemed to me I could feel the tingling sensations all up and down the length of my cock. It felt like a series of little fingers playing with my meat, feathery touches that drove me crazy. I plowed my cock all the way into her, and she growled and settled back on it, her ass feeling good on my legs.
"I was beginning to lose contact with reality. When that happens, you know you're in a good fuck.
"I reached around behind her and felt the smooth, warm flesh of her buttocks. When she felt my fingers, she froze again ... that told me that it was something she dug.
"I stuck a finger between her cheeks. She moaned and humped, and I prodded further until I touched her asshole. It seemed small and tight, and I tried to wedge my finger in, but it wouldn't go.
"I stuck it down further and got some of her cunt juice on it. Then it slid in nicely, and she really began to go to town. It's funny how many girls like to have something in both ends. She rocked back and forth, first concentrating on my cock and then favoring my finger. Her asshole muscles were really strong and they were giving my finger a real workout.
"Then I felt it coming on, and I knew that this time I was going to come. There was no stopping now. It was racing through me and even if I'd just laid there I'd of come, so I decided to go out with my guns blazing.
"I flipped her over onto her back and really humped my cock into her, very fast, back and forth, very hard. When my come exploded, she gasped and then responded with her own come, very powerful contractions of her cunt. We were both finished after that, and I didn't speak to her again until the next morning."
Although it is not difficult to draw parallels between the case preceding this one (that of Tim S-) and that of Troy D-, the parallelism is interrupted, is brief, and is shortly seen to be noncontinuous. In both instances, the subjects are adolescents, they are forced (though for different reasons and with different attitudes) to leave their parental and family environment, they are approached by persons who may be called "talent scouts for prostitution," they both enter the profession; however, even in that superficial parallelism there are critical differences that add up to bring on two entirely distinct results, or manners of behavior, in the subjects' lives.
What are the differences, and how do they affect the two cases?
Before delving in relative detail into what made Troy D- a "successful" call boy, i.e., what elements were present in his situation that were not in the case of Tim S-, it would be of interest to recap the three major factors which enter into the etiology of prostitution and promiscuity as those factors are presented by James C. Coleman in his authoritative work Abnormal Psychology and Modern Life. After categorizing "sexual deviations" into three major groups, specifically: (a) "deviations involving excessive or deficient sexual activity or desire, such as impotence"; (b) "sexual behavior which involves a basically normal biological pattern but which takes place under antisocial conditions, such as promiscuity"; and (c) "sexual patterns which are considered abnormal in regard to the choice of sexual object, such as homosexuality," Coleman presents the afore mentioned "three factors": Pathogenic family relationships. An appreciable number of sexually delinquent girls come out of family backgrounds in which alcoholism and promiscuous sexual behavior on the part of parents has provided them with undesirable behavior patterns which they in turn imitate. A pathogenic family pattern appears to be particularly damaging in broken homes where the mother sets an example of promiscuity....
The delinquent subculture ... Sexual delinquency is the most common offense among ... juvenile delinquents....
Sexual delinquency as a part of more pervasive psychopathology ... Sexual delinquency is not uncommon among mentally retarded girls who lack an understanding of the possible consequences of their behavior....
If Coleman's three factors are accepted as guidelines to the study of Tim S-'s case, it can be seen that the subject was the product of not a "broken" home but one at least in which some form of discord was present; otherwise it is un-likely that he would have had reasons (real or imaginary) to run away from home. It is also obvious that, totally unprepared for the traps of extrafamilial world, he found himself immediate prey of what might very justifiably be called a delinquent subculture. The third factor, however, that of "sexual delinquency as a part of more pervasive psychopathology," was not present in the subject's personality or character makeup, and it was this absence of a negative trait that precluded him from finding himself "comfortable" within the delinquent sub-culture of prostitutes.
Returning to the case at hand, however, it is clearly seen that Troy D-was the product of a broken home (a situation which he, in fact, tried to remedy the best way he could by working at a service station); he did find himself drawn into the same delinquent subculture as the subject of the preceding case history; and- the critical and catalytic factor in his "settling" within that subculture-he was, as the balance of his case history will show, a victim of what Coleman calls "more pervasive psycho-pathology."
Undoubtedly the fact that he was a few years older than Tim S-of the second case contributed greatly to his acceptance of a call-boy's life. He was considerably more experienced sexually, and his almost maniacal determination to better his financial status (laudable though it was, prompted by his desire to aid his family) leveled any and all inhibitions he might have had. Although even here it is a moot point as to whether he possessed any of the latter. As his narrative progresses, the psychopathological nature of his sexuality begins to emerge. There are signs that there is a strong undercurrent of sadomasochism in his constitution. This might appear somewhat unique in that usually an individual's preferences in that area tend to lean more strongly in either one of the two directions, i.e., sadistic or masochistic. The subject of this case, however, appears to hold no qualms in either being degraded or in degrading someone else.
This could be explained by an internal conflict within the character's psyche, a conflict that will-unless resolved-either bring out the purely sadistic side of his personality or the purely masochistic, or terminate in a case of schizophrenia.
Troy cannot be considered as a totally hedonistic individual (compare the subject of the first case history). A hedonist is entirely egocentric as a rule; he is interested in nothing other than satisfying his pleasure drives, primarily sexual. The subject of this case, on the other hand, regardless of the fact that he appears to enjoy the situation in which he has found himself, is concerned about his mother and siblings' welfare; he contributes a portion of his earnings to their upkeep, and he does conceal the nature of his employment from his family. Consequently, one may interpret his masochistic tendencies as a means by which he is trying to punish himself for the situation in which he has discovered himself as well as for his reluctance, or inability, to alter what he considers to be an easy life-style. His sadistic tendencies are, again, a method by which he is trying to get back at the woman who was responsible for his entering the professional call-boy racket.
It is a situation that is extremely difficult to resolve because of the above-described conflict inherent to it. Troy is grateful to Donna for snatching him out of the service-station environment; he is grateful to her for the fact that she has, so to speak, set him up in a lucrative business; yet, at the same time, he hates her for turning him into what he undoubtedly feels to be not a respectable "professional." It is difficult to say whether Troy actually is bothered by the fact that his line of business is "immoral," or "unethical," or "illegal." The indications that may be garnered from his narrative suggest that beneath all the bravado he attempts to put forth, there is a stifling feeling of guilt.
"I woke up the next morning about two hours before Donna did. I was used to getting up around six o'clock, anyway. The coffee shop opened at seven, so I sat in there drinking coffee and smoking until about nine. It was a big thrill just being in Miami Beach. The people who came into the coffee shop looked so different from the people around Orlando.
"Like I said, at nine I went back to the room. Donna was still asleep, but it was getting on, so I woke her up. She smiled when she saw me and asked me what time it was.
"Later, after she'd dressed and we'd had breakfast in the coffee shop, she explained the situation to me.
"What it was amazed me. 'Look,' she said. 'There are lots of women-rich women-who need sex. They can't take their fun anywhere, with anyone, because they can't have their husbands finding out.' "'Why don't they just fuck their husbands?' I asked.
"She shook her head. 'No good. First of all, their husbands usually have someone like me on the side, and these guys are too old to be taking care of two women. It's all they can do to handle one!' "'So?' "'So there's a really good future for a boy like you here. You're sixteen-that gives you about ten years to really make it-and you can.""Go on,' I said. It was getting interesting. Anything that sounded like a way to make a living without pumping gas was interesting to me. Not to mention that this was fun.
"'Here's how it works. I tie you in with an answering service that I know. For a percentage, of course. Anyway, they'll refer you to various ladies, and the ladies will tell you where and when. You pretty much set your own price, but be careful to deliver what you promise. These women don't like to get burned.' "'You mean that all I have to do is make love to women and they'll pay me?' "'Through the nose, honey. You're a good one for this-big, strong, and handsome. Up your age a little-tell them you're twenty. They like that age. It sounds more manly. But what they'll really love is your teen-age pecker and all those comes!' "I sat back and thought about it. I knew it wasn't something Mom would be proud of, but it sounded like a way in which I could sent her enough money to get out of the financial hole she was in, and even maybe let my kid brothers go to college.
"'I'd like to give it a try.' "'I knew you would. You're not a dumb kid. You'll make plenty, believe me.' "We left the motel and drove to an apartment house. She'd lived there the year before, and she wanted to see if they had anything available. They did, a nice one-bedroom furnished apartment for two-hundred dollars a month. I swallowed when I heard that price. Back near Orlando, we paid fifty dollars a month for a three-bedroom house.
"'You can stay here for a while, until you get settled,' Donna said. 'But you can't stay for long. I can't have you here when my men come up, and I can't even take a chance on them sensing that a man lives here. Each one of the men I go with likes to think he's the only one.' "That sounded good to me. 'How long before I can put some money together?' I asked. From what I'd seen of rents, my fifty dollars wasn't going to get me very much.
"Donna sat down by the phone in the lobby and dialed a number. 'Hi. This is Donna. Listen, I've got a boy with me-he's perfect! I'd like you to push his name a little, he needs the money now!' "It was that easy. Donna briefed the person on the phone with my vital statistics, and we decided to use the name Troy. Sounds real phony, but that's what they like-a real make-believe trip.
"We moved in that day. I was a big help to Donna, rearranging the furniture until it was just what she wanted. About four in the afternoon the phone rang. It was the answering service, and it was an assignment for me.
"Donna took down the information and then hung up. She turned to me. 'Here it is. Your first one.' She paused, lighting a cigarette. 'Look, let me give you some advice.' I could tell she was uneasy. She wasn't the type who handed out advice, and she didn't like doing it.
"'First off, don't be afraid to charge these bitches whatever you think they'll pay. You'll be able to tell when you see the look in their eyes-if they dig you, charge like hell. Another thing. If they ask you to do something and you agree, you'd damned well better do it. If you don't, they'll complain to the service and you'll be through!' "I nodded. I couldn't think what in hell a girl could ask me to do that I'd balk at.
"'Go to the corner of Collins-that's the first street over from here-and walk north three blocks. There's an Italian restaurant on the corner. Stand there and she'll pick you up. Her name's Mrs. Gloria C-.' "I nodded. 'That's it?' "'That's it. Do the best you can.' She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I suddenly realized that if I wasn't careful my relationship with Donna was going to degenerate into one of those awful brother-sister things. I didn't want that at all!
"I left the apartment and walked to the restaurant. I was still excited from just being in Miami Beach-all the traffic and the big-city look that the people had.
"About ten minutes after I arrived, a big Lincoln glided up to the curb and the back door opened. 'Get in,' a woman's voice said.
"I got in. She was nice-looking, but a little older than I'd expected. Of course, most of the women that I deal with are middle-aged, but I didn't know that then. I guess it showed on my face.
"She asked, 'Something wrong, my dear?' "I shook my head. 'No. I'm new in town. Guess I'm just a little stunned by it all.' "She patted my head and smiled. 'That's fine, Troy. I like young boys right off the farm. So refreshing.' "We drove for about fifteen minutes, taking one of the causeways over to Miami. We finally stopped at a small motel. The chauffeur made the arrangements and returned with the key. Not once did he ever glance at me. I was beginning to feel like I didn't exist.
"We entered the room and Gloria walked around, commenting on the tacky this and the cheap-looking that. She was beginning to be a pain in the ass, but I knew this was going to be my job so I grinned at her. "Want to get going?' I asked softly, trying to cover my nervousness.
"She stopped and looked at me, a funny smile on her face. 'My, how eager. Did they tell you about me, Troy? About what I like?' "Nobody had told me anything. I shook my head.
"'Well,' she said as she began to undress. I got hard watching her, and I was glad to see that I'd have no trouble responding to her. As a matter-of-fact, I was pretty excited about the prospects of fucking a woman old enough to be my mother.
"'Do you like what you see, Troy?' She was naked now, parading around, turning like a model for me. 'You're a fine-looking woman,' I said.
"She came over to the bed. 'Let me see what you look like, Troy. Stand up and take off your clothes.' "I stood up and pulled my shirt off, then my shoes and pants. My cock popped out when I slid my shorts off and it was damned big and hard. She whistled softly when she saw it.
"'You've got a big ... future here in Miami Beach,' she said. She walked over to me and took my cock in her soft hand. 'So hard!' she said, and I grinned. 'Just tell me where you want it,' I said.
"She smiled and backed up to the bed, leading me by my cock. She sat down and opened her legs. I was standing in front of her. 'You'd like me to suck you, wouldn't you?' she asked.
"I smiled. 'Sure,' I said.
"'Too bad. I'm the one who's paying, sonny! Get on your knees!' I didn't like the new tone in her voice, but I did as I was told.
"I was kneeling right in front of her hairy, wet pussy. She opened her legs. 'Take a good look, handsome. I want you to see exactly what a pussy looks like.' Her hand was there, rubbing and opening her snatch.
"'Suck it for a while,' she said. I leaned forward and began drinking at her pussy. I liked doing that, sucking her meat into my mouth, biting the flesh, tickling her little clit. She liked it, too.
"'Good, good,' she said. Then she turned around, climbing up onto the bed. She was on all fours. 'Lick my ass,' she said. I stood there. 'Didn't you hear me? Lick my ass!' "This wasn't what I'd expected, but it was still easier than pumping gas. I got behind her and opened her cheeks with my hands. Her asshole wasn't bad looking-tight and curled and pink. I put my lips to it. It had no taste or odor. I began wetly kissing the knot of flesh, then I snaked my tongue out and ran it-around the rim.
"Her hips started working as she rolled her ass around my face, and it felt good. Her buttocks were warm and smelled like baby powder. I was surprised to find that I enjoyed what I was doing-I enjoyed it a lot.
"That was my secret as a call boy. I enjoy anything that has to do with sex. There was nothing I wouldn't do.
"Gloria's asshole was all wet now from my tongue, but it was also opening up, begging me to stick my tongue in there-deep.
"It was an amazing thing to see. It went from a tight little curl of flesh to an open pouting hole. I slid my tongue in and she spun her hips and back up against me. 'Yes!' she screamed. 'Do that!' "I sank my tongue all the way in and she twisted and turned on it. I was loving it myself. She reached between her legs and began finger-fucking herself, so I reached around and squeezed a big melon tit. She moaned as I squeezed harder. The harder I squeezed the more she liked it.
"Then I decided to take over the show. I got up and turned her around. 'Suck it,' I said. She eagerly dove on my cock, sucking and chewing while she continued to finger herself.
"'That's enough,' I said. 'Get on your hands and knees again.' She did, and I stood behind her. I was standing alongside the bed and she was on it. My cock was right on her asshole.
"'Hold still,' I ordered. Then I began to wedge my now-wet cock into her asshole. She gasped and started to pull away, but I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her back onto my rod.
"It slid in about three inches. She was begging for mercy, but I could tell she loved it. Before a minute had passed, I was in to the hilt, and she was spinning around on it like an old whore.
"I can tell you, the first time you fuck a woman in the ass, it's a good fuck. Her muscles are strong and the asshole's usually tight, plus you get the extra bang of fucking from behind, which I especially like.
"I fucked her that way for about five minutes, and I fucked her pretty hard. I was hoping that she wouldn't bleed or anything, and she didn't. But I bet she had a sore ass for a few days.
"Then as she came and I could feel her body relaxing, I slowly pulled my cock out, and it looked pretty bad. I turned her around. 'Clean it up,' I said, hoping my voice didn't betray the uncertainty I felt.
"I was the one getting paid, and I guess I was coming on pretty strong, but she didn't seem to mind. Of course, now I know that women like being dominated, ordered around, and humiliated. That's why they're going out with whores in the first place.
"She leaned forward and began licking, cleaning up my shaft. I let her go with it for a while and then I felt a come. I decided to hold off a bit and really give her a ride.
"I knew she dug pain, so I looked around the room for something to use. The only thing I saw was the belt on my pants. I walked over and got it. She sort of scooted up to the head of the bed when she saw what I was doing.
"'I don't like that,' she said in a weak voice.
"'You will, Gloria, trust me.' I gave her a smile, and she sort of smiled back, but I could see she was worried. Maybe she'd never done this kind of thing before, I don't know. It struck me as the one thing she would really dig.
"I made her lie down with her legs spread. I stood alongside the bed, the belt in my hand. As I looked at her I saw her cunt start to puff. She was digging it, all right.
"I popped her very lightly with the belt. It caught her across the tits, and she closed her eyes and moaned. I knew that was it.
"I continued on her tits, first one, then the other. I started concentrating on the nipples, laying the tip of the belt-not the metal end-across her nipples.
"Then I shifted targets and began stroking her pussy with it. I didn't swing it. I held the leather in my hand and rubbed her with it. She was going crazy.
"Then I stood back and slapped her cunt with the belt a few times. She was going mad now, her hips moving, her cunt completely open.
"Then I began to really work on her, laying the belt in there pretty hard. She responded like a crazy woman, almost screaming as the lash of the belt bit into her. There was no blood, and I wasn't damaging her in any way, but it must've stung like hell.
"I was hoping that she wasn't going to hold all this against me later. You know, so many women behave one way when they're fucking and then turn around on you later.
"I felt I was going to dig doing sex for a living, and I didn't want to blow it my first time out.
"I stopped with the belt because she was beginning to lose control of herself. I was afraid she'd piss on the bed or something. She was lying there, writhing in sexual agony, so I figured that what she needed was a good straight-out fucking to fix her up. My cock was still good and hard. I climbed on her and wedged my cock right into her pussy. She gasped when she felt my thickness enter her, and I could feel her stretching her pussy with her hands to accommodate it.
"It was damned tight. She was a small-pussy woman, and I love them the best. They make you feel like a bull. But I could tell my length and thickness was almost too much for her. But we were making it, and that was the important thing.
"Finally, I was all the way in and she was grinding below me, gasping, her legs on top of mine. She was curled around me with her pussy arched against me at an angle that allowed me to pull my meat all the way out and then slam it all the way in. She loved that. Now that her cunt was all ready for me, she wanted as much as I had.
"I unloaded into her, giving her a ride that I knew she was going to remember. I stroked her cunt for a good ten minutes. She came and came, and finally, I got off myself and poured my juices into her. When they hit, she started puffing for breath and holding me tighter and tighter.
"Later, after we'd showered and dressed, I talked to her for a while. She wasn't one for conversation. She treated me like a servant, but we both knew what had gone on, and we both knew who'd been in charge, so that softened her a little. We had a good time until the chauffeur came back.
"They gave me a lift back to Miami Beach. By the time I got back to Donna's pad, I was feeling pretty tired. She opened the door with a big smile on her face. 'Success!' she said. It seemed that Gloria had already called the service and told them what a damned good time I'd given her. I was in.
"We opened a bottle of champagne that Donna had bought, and I had my first taste of good booze. Naturally, I got drunk and had to be put to bed, but it was well worth it.
"The funny thing was I hadn't mentioned money to Gloria. I'd forgotten all about it, and she thought that I was so confident in my virility that I knew she'd pay like crazy to get more of me!
"She sent a hundred dollars to the service that afternoon. I got eighty of it, and it was the easiest money I'd ever earned.
"Let me tell you one more little story about those days. It'll give you a chance to see how mixed up the world can get.
"I was making between one hundred and two hundred a day for a while. It was tax-free, of course, and that kind of loot adds up in a hurry.
"I sent mom a hundred a week-plenty for them -and put most of what was left in a savings account. By the end of my first year in Miami, I had almost twenty-four-thousand dollars in the bank.
"Not bad for a seventeen-year-old ex-gas pumper. I always lived conservatively, and I didn't throw my money around. Don't now, either.
"But I never thought I'd do that well. Anyway, a week or so after I got started we got a call through the service. I was visiting Donna for lunch, for I'd already had my own place.
"The service said that it was a damned important call, so I washed up and changed clothes back at my place. The date was for three o'clock, so I took my time and got to the agreed meeting place with ten minutes to spare.
"It was the usual scene-car picked me up, woman in the back seat. It was always the same, even when the job was only a week old.
"We drove to an old estate on the mainland and parked. The main house was about fifty years old. Four stories, immense. We walked in. To my surprise there were other people there.
"The place was beautiful inside. There was maybe a million dollars' worth of art in the living room alone. It was that kind of place.
"I recognized a lot of faces in that room-politicians, celebrities, business executives. Everyone was having a good time. There was dancing, a table filled with food, a bartender serving drinks. I joined in and started eating and drinking with the rest.
"Of course, I didn't do that on my own. I was told to by the woman who brought me. As I looked around the room, I began to recognize people in the same line of work as me. There were five girls and two other guys-all hustlers like, me-mixing and talking and behaving like regular guests.
"Well, what it was, of course, was an orgy. And because they wanted to make sure the thing got going and stayed going they'd brought in some professional help.
"Just like they hire people to cater the food and drink at their parties. The very rich seem to like the idea of that professional touch even in their sex!
"I didn't mind. Of course, I realized we were going to be treated like performing seals, but the money was good and I was having a good time, too.
"What they finally had me do was strip in the middle of the room. As the rest of the guests walked around me, checking me out, I smiled at each one. There were a couple of guys who looked like they'd jump in, but I didn't want that.
"Finally, one of the women stepped forward. She was the wife of a local millionaire, and her husband was standing right there, grinning from ear to ear.
"She got right with it. In a few seconds she was as naked as me, and the crowd cheered and applauded her. Someone dimmed the lights.
"She walked right over to me and got on her knees. In front of all those people, mind you. I stood there, my cock hard as a rock. I could see she dug what she was doing too much to stop despite the crowd. She leaned forward and slid my cock into her mouth, and when I felt those soft lips curl around my shaft, I knew she was a cocksucker born to the trade.
"Everyone crowded around us, and several guests were telling her what to do. Their language was strictly vulgar and I was sort of surprised to see them acting that way-especially towards one of their own.
"She sucked and sucked and while she was doing that, everyone else was getting naked, and pretty soon they were groping all around us. The whole scene turned into a gigantic orgy and the only one who wasn't balling or sucking was, of all people, her husband. He just sat there watching his wife suck off a complete stranger. He looked like he was digging it, and I was glad of that.
"I made three hundred for that party. It was one of the most successful nights in my life."
The greatest challenge that the subject of this case will have to face is that of pecuniary greed. The second is that of resisting the temptation to self-recriminate himself for the nature of the business in which he found himself, a business which, as he puts it, "his mother would not have been proud of." It is felt that in spite of the fact that the subject appears to have almost acclimatized himself to the questionability of his situation, he still manifests some signs of self-respect, and this same self-respect, now that he is fairly well off financially, might put him back on the path to a more ego-rewarding life-style.
CHAPTER FOUR- The Rich Have All the Fun
"Seventeen is quite young for gigoloing, but it happened accidentally. If someone had told me a couple of years ago that I'd be servicing older women, I would have told them they were out of their minds!
"I have always been nice-looking ... nothing that you could call handsome, but my face has what one of my clients calls 'that boyish-man' look, whatever the hell that is.
"Being an illegitimate child, I had it kind of rough for a long time ... first in an orphan home, then in and out of foster homes. So many of those foster homes are nothing but rackets. They get a lot of kids so they can collect enough money from the state to live comfortably, and the kids can go to hell. I ran away pretty often because of the lack of love in those joints.
"Being seventeen, they weren't about to go looking for me the last time I left, I guess. Besides, I got a ride out of town pretty fast, and was out of the state in a matter of minutes. That was eighteen months ago. Yeh, I've been in the love-for-money racket for about a year and a half, now.
"Like all teenagers I had a yen to see what the world was about. Seeing as I was unhappy at my last foster home, I figured it was about time to make the big plunge. So, I left a note on the kitchen table when everybody was out to a movie. I made some excuse for not wanting to go and stayed behind. My farewell message read: 'I'm leaving for good. Please don't bother sending the cops after me as I will only do it again. I'm old enough now, so this is good-bye.' "I removed one of the slips from a flat pillow and tossed in my few personal belongings, tied it with a piece of rope and took off for the highway. We lived right near the state line, so in no time at all I felt free as the car I was in crossed over into Illinois. A brand new Cad picked me up only minutes after I was on the road and took me away from what was home forever.
"That short ride in the Caddy left a lasting impression on me, for I had never ridden in such an expensive car before. As we whizzed down the highway, a feeling of wonderful luxuriousness crept into my bones. The feel of the real leather upholstery, the soft ride, the thick, firm seats ... all of this opened my eyes to the realization that there was a different kind of world I had never known. A world of comfort and security that some people enjoyed, and it was out there somewhere waiting for me, too. All I had to do was figure out what it was that I wanted to make money at and then be good at it. This was the philosophy I developed from the short conversation with the driver, whose name I never did get. But he sure knew business.
"'Find out what it is you do best,' he said, 'and then work like hell at it. Find out what your competition charges and set your price against his. That's the whole ball of wax in a nutshell.' He talked fast, clipping his words short with impatience. He wasn't cocky, just goddamn confident.
"I'll remember those words all my life. They've worked like magic.
"As you can well imagine, I came from nothing but poor homes and lightly educated foster parents. I suppose if I had landed in some home where the two adults really wanted a kid for the sake of having a kid, then I wouldn't have turned out like this, but ... them's the breaks, as they say.
"It took me exactly three rides to get all the way into Chicago. The last one was with a widow about fifty years old. She picked me up just outside of Freeport and yakked my ear off for the first hour. She gave me a condensed version of her life history, about which I could really have cared less.
"Then she stopped abruptly, glanced at my face -I mean my whole face-examining my ears and all from two feet away. I felt like she was an artist studying her subject before picking up the brushes.
"After several seconds of this inspection, she finally put an end to the uncomfortable silence.
"'You're a good-looking boy,' she said, again focusing her blue eyes on the road. 'You should have a fine life ahead of you.' "I looked at her quizzically, my eyes dancing over her well coiffured blue-tinted hair. She was what Oscar Wilde would have called, 'The remains of a remarkable beauty ... just the remains.' "I felt flattered at her comment, not having been the recipient of too many compliments in my life. I smiled with a strange new satisfaction, the satisfaction which comes from discovering that you are, after all, acceptable to the outside world. You don't know what that can do for a person until you experience it yourself for the first time.
"'My looks haven't done too much for me so far,' I said, wondering if she would continue her mature observations and comments.
"'You're still quite young,' she smiled. 'But you seem to be a very bright young man. That's a fine combination-intelligence and good looks. You can do a great deal with it, providing you train yourself to look for opportunities.' More advice, but she had me as interested as the man in the Cad. I suppose because I was the topic of conversation.
"I was somewhat mystified by this last remark. After several seconds of trying to understand what she meant by training and looking for opportunities, I asked, 'Exactly what do you mean? How does a person train to look for opportunities? I mean, they either come your way or they don't, right?' "Her well-bred smile drifted gracefully across her face, lightening up her aging eyes, which sparkled beautifully when she smiled. I'll bet she was a knockout twenty-five years ago.
"'Before I clarify what I mean, you should know that I have decided to drive you all the way to Chicago,' she said, winking like an affectionate aunt. 'And now that you've won over my trust, why don't we exchange names? I'm Felicia. When we get to know each other better, I will give you my last name. And what's yours?' "'Mathew,' J said, shifting my position from the numb spot on my ass.
"'All right, Mathew,' she said, straightening her neck and taking in a very deep breath. 'Opportunity knocks on our doors all the time. The ones who get the most out of life are those who recognize an incident as an opportunity to be bent in their direction for their benefit. If you train yourself to be aware of little things that may seem like nothing, you soon discover how these little things can become something which will enhance your life....
maybe for a minute, maybe for an hour, or maybe for years to come. Your presence in my car, for example, may strike you as just a ride to your destination.' "Felicia paused, calmly lit a cigarette and continued. Her speech was impeccable, and the words flowed from her mouth in rhythmic gushes like a warm brook trickling over jutting rocks and then plunging down to be caught by long strands of willowy grass. She was sophistication and mature beauty. I felt honored that she would even communicate with me on such an intimate level. I was enthralled by her intelligent words and mysterious air. Looking back, it was simply my own naivete.
"'But,' she continued, 'this ride may bring you something you never expected. This of course is left to your own mind to figure out, to think about, to be aware of any situation which might in some way give you a new experience.' "She stopped talking, inhaling deeply from her long, thin cigarette. Felicia was certainly polished. This was something I had always admired in people-polish. I swore that some day I would also be 'polished' and accepted by the best people around.
"There was something which told me she might be referring to sex. I couldn't think of anything else that Felicia might be talking about. I thought maybe it was my own imagination, that I was interpreting her all wrong, because of my age. As sex was on my mind all the time anyway, maybe I misunderstood her intentions. Surely she must be instructing me in some other area. I mean, after all, I was seventeen, and she was old enough to be my mother!
"But my suspicions were correct. She let me chew on her speech for a long while. I looked more closely at her body, trying to figure out what her bust size was, and whether or not she had a large stomach behind that loose driving coat.
"Felicia spoke again, this time in a warm, sensuous tone which half scared and half excited me.
"'You may find yourself with some new experiences, unless you have an abhorrence of women my age,' she purred. 'That, of course, depends on whether you are a grown man or a young boy.' "I rose to the challenge. She was not about to make me slither into a hole, cowering from a sexual encounter with a woman quite older than myself. Her words about opportunity flashed through my head. Who knows, I thought, she might teach me some refinements in the art of lovemaking.
"I had been fucking since I was fifteen. Not often, but frequently enough not to get out of practice.
"'I'm a man,' I said nervously. 'I think you're quite attractive and not as old as you try to make me think you are.' "She threw back her head and laughed beautifully. Everything she did was feminine. Felicia drew deeply on her cigarette, tapping the ashes repeatedly into the ashtray.
"'I can see we're going to get along just fine,' she bubbled, still laughing gleefully. Her laughter became contagious, and I soon found myself relaxing and laughing with her. Her hand reached over and pressed my knee for a moment and then returned to the wheel.
"'Oh, you're beautiful,' she said. 'You really are beautiful, Mathew.' "We joked for a while and then began discussing movies, music and things I hadn't talked about in ages, mainly because most kids I knew just weren't interested. After about a couple hours of driving, Felicia suggested that we put up for the night at a motel and continue our journey the following day.
"She registered while I waited in the car. I guess she told the man I was her son, because we shared the same room-one double bed and one single bed. I had never stayed in a motel before, and it sure was a wonderful feeling as I walked into the room and viewed the fancy drapes and carpets. There was a color TV, thick rugs-boy, was that place plush.
"Felicia asked me to carry up her suitcase and freezer chest-the kind you use for picnics. It was heavy as hell. I couldn't imagine what kind of food would weigh as much as that. After we had a snack at the restaurant downstairs, we returned to our room and Felicia opened the freezer chest.
"'Get me a hand towel from the bathroom, will you, Mathew?' she asked raising her voice slightly over the crunchy sound of ice in the chest.
"I handed her the towel as she turned around, displaying a bottle of wine. That's what made that chest so heavy! It was filled with ice and several bottles of wine!
"After one glass of wine I got a little dizzy and giggly. This seemed to amuse Felicia, and she came over to me where I sat and knelt down. I could see her cleavage as it disappeared into the loose top of her print dress. She had a good pair of tits on her, and my prick began to stir at the sight of those fleshy bulges.
"When she brought her wine glass to her lips, she leaned against my leg, resting her warm body. This gave me an even better view of her tits. I could see straight down. As Felicia set her glass on the floor, she looked upwards at me, eyes slightly glazed from the wine.
"'Do you like the view?' she cooed.
"My gut was on fire, and I could barely manage an utterance. I felt as though I was short of air.
"'Yes,' I finally managed to whisper, almost not recognizing my own voice because of the husky, breathy quality.
"Felicia reached up to the crotch of my pants and rested her warm hand on my hardening penis. I took a deep breath, still staring at her fleshy breasts. Her hand moved in circles on my prick, making it harder with each rotation. My breath became heavier and thicker. I was almost paralyzed with the hot stirrings in my gut.
"Felicia stopped her massaging of my prick and rose to her feet, walked to the front door and turned off the switch that controlled the bedroom lamps. The bathroom light spilled onto the floor and barely lit the main room.
"She sauntered over and knelt with her back to me. 'llnzip, please,' she said. I pulled her zipper down to the small of her back. She pulled the dress forward and let it fall to her waist. Her back was flawless-the skin was smooth and white.
"Felicia turned slowly. As she did, her bare tits came into view, and my prick swelled and stirred like a bull in heat. She had the body of a twenty-year-old girl, although not as firm. But her tits were full and hung very little.
"Ever so slowly, Felicia turned full around, getting to her feet as she did so. She leaned over, hanging her tits in my face. I reached up hungrily and took them both in my hands. As I cupped her soft sexy flesh, she lowered her head and kissed me on the lips, gently and tenderly.
"My prick was pushing hard against my pants, throbbing and jerking inside. It felt glorious to hold both of her full tits in my hands, to feel their weight and pressure against my fingers and sweating palms. I squeezed softly and she moaned quietly, slipping her tongue into my mouth.
"Darting flashes of quicksilver shot down to my prick. My body was aglow with lust for this woman whose age mattered not-she was sexy and desirous, wanton and willing. She made me feel desired, too, which enhanced my excitement. She pulled her tongue from my mouth and whispered, 'Let's sit on the bed. We'll be more comfortable.' "I got up and walked to the bed with her. She slipped her dress off and tossed it on the chair, then began unbuttoning my pants, all the while rubbing my prick with the other hand, making it harder and more swollen. I removed my shirt and underwear hurriedly while she sat on the edge of the bed.
"Her sure hand grabbed my big prick and squeezed it. It responded with jerkings and swellings. She squeezed back, making it jerk and swell again. I pushed Felicia gently back down on the bed and grabbed one of her tits in my mouth and sucked the swollen nipple in. She moaned loudly and joyously as my tongue and lips brushed her deep pink flesh at the top of her sexy mounds.
"'Ohhhhhh, that feels so good!' she murmured, moving her shoulders, writhing beneath my sucking mouth. 'Your mouth does things to me! Oh, baby, suck to your heart's content ... suck mommy's nipple ... oh, yes, baby, suck in mommy's good tits.' "Her hand was pumping my prick hard, jerking the hard flesh up and down with tender but strong pushes and pulls, jacking me off like a motor- never missing a beat.
"Her body was smooth and warm as my hands petted around both tits, then down to her waist and around her fleshy hips and thighs. The flesh was looser than I had been used to with girls my own age, but nonetheless, womanly and exciting. Felicia had a well-proportioned body for a woman her age.
"She wiggled and slithered as my hands rubbed over every inch of her hot flesh, evoking more and more intense passion from within myself. Younger women had not let themselves go as Felicia was doing, and it was making me hotter than hell. She gave herself to me utterly, responding to every caress and pinch, every suck and lick, each bite and nibble. I found myself moaning now, my passion rising to unknown heights. I hadn't had a piece of ass in so long I was ready to rip her to shreds.
"I cupped a hand on her pussy and squeezed, feeling the wiry hair entangled in my fingers, the moistness of her sex juices matting the wiry cluster. A finger poked downward, sliding between her wet lips ... her dripping wet pussy lips which beckoned my caresses. "As my finger slithered up and down the crack, Felicia's legs spread further and further apart, inviting more contact, begging my hand to take her complete flesh. I spread those fleshy sex lips and slipped all my fingers into the wetness, rubbing up and down those smooth, pink flaps in rhythm to her moans and groans of pleasure.
"My prick was aching, wanting to plunge into her hot, whorish body, to rip her apart with my weapon, to pump her body full of my swollen prick, filling it to the skin. Her educated hands- those wise and knowing hands-kept my hard on like a bar of steel. But I wanted to feel her every inch before taking her for my own, to know how her ass felt to be squeezed, how the other tit felt to be sucked and bitten on. She was making me want her more than any other female I'd fucked. Her constant moaning and twisting kept me moving in turn, feeling and exploring, poking and pinching, petting and kissing.
"I was literally hungry to devour her soft delicate body-wanting, like some depraved animal, to eat her up alive. I couldn't get enough tit in my mouth or enough flesh in my fingers. Her body couldn't be pressed hard enough to mine ... I wanted her to become part of my body.
"She began to talk loudly, pleading with me to fuck her. 'Oh, my baby! Fuck me now! Oh, yes, push it in ... fill me up ... stick it in now, baby! Oh, God, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!' "I rose to my knees and climbed between those juicy, white thighs, supporting myself on her tits all the while, pressing my full weight on her strong tits and pinching the nipples as she writhed and screamed her passion into the thick musk-filled air.
"Her hole had secreted so much sex fluid that my prick fairly slipped into her hole. With the sudden snap of a vise, her legs clamped around my back, locking me to her for eternity. Her pussy was not tight and binding like I had known, but loose and somewhat fleshy and rather unfirm.
"I slammed my meat into her with a violence new to me. I was absolutely lost in a sea of hot flesh and uncontrollable lust, locked in by these pleading legs and hungry pussy.
"My hands wrapped around her ass and pulled Felicia up to my hips. She was off the mattress except for her shoulders. We were wrapped together in physical bondage-snugly, securely, meant for each other to pump and do each other in by monstrous orgasms.
"I grabbed firmly at her ass cheeks, squeezing and kneading those spongy mounds of womanliness. Felicia's back arched, thrusting her hips at me, suspended in air and supported by my hard prick and her clinging legs. We swayed, and banged against each other, rocked and jerked, beating our bodies against one another like mad animals.
"My hands on her ass jerked her around like a rag doll ... twisting and pulling, turning and shoving, making my prick hit every cell of her pussy, massaging every fold and corner, sending us both careening into orgasms of exquisite colors and explosions. Bone was pounding against bone, flesh mashing into flesh, nails and fingers digging into more flesh as our senses reeled and spun like Ferris wheels gone mad in a kaleidoscope. We came crashing like a comet onto the earth, spurting our fire and glory into atoms of direction, filling all time and space that surrounded us.
"And then the world stopped. There was blackness and stillness.
"All feeling had disappeared. All the lights and colors of life were expended in the vastness of space. We were no longer gods ... the greatness shrunk and shrunk until we were again human size and lying exhausted upon a plain bed, soaked in our own sweat and oils-greased and pasty from love's secretions which no longer served a purpose and which should have disappeared with the colors and the spinning wheels of fire.
"It was me and a fifty-year-old broad.
"'You're just super,' were the last words I heard. Then we awoke the next morning to continue our journey.
"Upon arriving in Chicago, she dropped me off near the center of town. Reaching into her purse, she fingered a roll of bills and pulled out a twenty.
"'Here, baby,' she said, her eyes twinkling. 'You'll need a few nickels to hold you till you get settled. If things get rough, look me up at the F- Hotel. Call and ask for Mrs. R-'s room. I'll be in town for a couple mouths. If things get dull, give me a call, okay?' "I thanked her and closed the door. She sped away, leaving me with a lot to think about."
The first impression one gets after perusing the first portion of Mathew M-'s narrative is that it is almost identical to the preceding case, that of Troy D-. Actually, it is not surprising. It is the pattern that fits a great number of youngsters who find themselves engaged in what the case history subject herein refers to as the "love-for-money racket." Coleman's broken-home, delinquent-subculture, all-pervasive-psychopathology explanation for promiscuity and prostitution appears to hold validity in this case as well. And if that explanation is valid for all status quo cases involving call boys (or call girls), then one should expect similarities-general similarities, that is-to be a common phenomenon in the study of prostitution. This does not in any way discredit the claim made in the introduction to this work that there is no such entity as a "typical" prostitute. Typicality implies common personality or character traits, common mentality (a below-average I.Q., for instance), common physical characteristics, etc. Students of phrenology may even suggest that prostitutes have a cranial conformation that distinguishes them from nonprostitutes. The ludicrousness of the latter needs not be commented upon.
Returning to the similarity between the present and the immediately preceding case-similarities that may be termed the "Coleman points"-one can see that in spite of the circumstantial overlap of events (the leaving of the family, or foster family, the relatively accidental encounter with an actual procuress in the first case and a call-boy-seeking-for-her-own-pleasure, middle-aged woman in the second case, and the setting-up of a clientele) that eventually lead both subjects to the status of prostitutes, there are subtle, but psychologically important, differences present.
To begin with, the motivation behind the abandonment of the previous mode of life is not the same in the two cases. In the case of Troy D- the motivating factor was external. He was drawn away from his service-station job, which he was utilizing to support his mother and family, by the promise of better things, the nature of which was not clear to him at the outset. In the case of Mathew M- the motivation was self-induced. Having had no family life to speak of, having been shuffled from one foster home to another, having attempted a number of times to sever the court-imposed bonds that kept him, in fact, a prisoner of his keepers (as he clearly suggests, there was no quasi-parental love or involvement of an emotional nature between him and whomever he happened to be staying with), he finally decided to make a complete break from the juvenile authorities and set out on his own. He states he "had a yen to see what the world was about."
The subject's encounter with Felicia-the rich, unscrupulous, lonely fifty-year-old woman who apparently had a long-standing weakness for youthful sex companions-must be considered as entirely accidental. (This point is brought out as a possible contrast to a similar meeting between the subject of the preceding case history and Donna. There is strong suggestion that Donna, a professional procuress, had had made a surveillance of the station at which Troy worked and had pulled in with the specific intention of conscripting the youth for her "business.") And Felicia, in contrast to Donna, the "call-boy talent scout," was initially interested in Mathew solely for personal sexual reasons. She was, in fact, Mathew's first client. The fact that later, as the subject's narrative will show, she referred him to other middle-aged, lonely, and amorous women-her friends and acquaintances-thereby expanding his "territory" cannot be compared to Donna's actions since there was no profit motivation on Felicia's part.
It is interesting to note at this point that in all of the cases discussed so far the subjects made a statement somewhere along the way of their narrative that showed their true feelings about women. And those feelings were not those of love, admiration, or respect; rather, they were those of subdued hatred and contempt. Bertrand Russell, in his previously cited work Marriage and Morals, gives the reasons for such feelings. He writes: The intrusion of the economic motive into sex is always in a greater or less degree disastrous. Sexual relations should be a mutual delight, entered into solely from the spontaneous impulse of both parties. Where this is not the case, everything that is valuable is absent. To use another person in so intimate a manner is to be lacking in that respect for the human being as such, out of which all true morality must spring. To a sensitive person, such an act cannot be in any serious way attractive ... Morality in sexual relations, when it is free from superstition, consists essentially of respect for the other person, and unwillingness to use that person solely as a means of personal gratification, without regard to his or her desire....
If one accepts Bertrand Russell's views, then one has an answer to why lesbianism is so prevalent among female prostitutes. Yet, if that is the case, should one not expect an eventual slippage into homosexuality of the call boy? The answer is yes. And the reason is actually two-fold. First, there is the growing feeling of contempt for women; then there is often a gradually growing inability on the part of the call boy to become aroused by a female -any female. The latter end-result could very well be the reason why there is so much written on the homosexual prostitute and why he is recognized much more often by psychiatric studies than the heterosexual call boy.
Although none of the subjects studied in this work manifested any homosexual tendencies, it must be remembered that the cases have been selected to show the genesis of the heterosexual call boy, not his decline. And that decline is foreshadowed in the misogynic comments of the subjects.
"I tried getting a job in restaurants, hotels ... just about any kind of work you can mention, but no go. After three nights of sleeping in vacant lots, trying to hide my body so I couldn't be seen, I phoned the F-Hotel and asked for Mrs. R-.
"I could never catch her in. I was so frustrated and dejected, not being able to land even a dishwasher job. I had exactly a dollar and sixty-seven cents left from the twenty Felicia gave me just a few days before.
"At five o'clock that Thursday I tried her hotel again for the fourth time and reached her. She asked me what I was doing, and I told her about trying to get a job and sleeping on God's green earth.
"'Oh, for heaven's sake, Mathew,' she said, almost scolding, 'why didn't you call me sooner? Listen, darling, I have a dinner date in a half hour. Now listen carefully. I want you to call me at exactly eight-thirty tonight. Will you do that, baby?' "I said that I would, and we ended the conversation rather hurriedly as she had to change clothes for her date. When I buzzed her at eight-thirty, she didn't sound so rushed. She asked me where I was calling from, then said that she would send a cab to pick me up and not to pay the driver-as if I could!
"Luckily, I cleaned up in a filling station men's room before I called her. My face was clean shaven, but my sport shirt and slacks were pretty wrinkled. I felt awfully self-conscious when the cab pulled up and the driver asked, 'You Mathew?' "He took me to the hotel, and as we pulled up to the front entrance, I felt like a small turd in all the elegance displayed before me. There were women in furs and diamonds waiting at the curb; doormen and bellhops wearing immaculate uniforms; men in black bow ties helping ladies into limousines ... the whole scene scared the hell out of me.
"I hesitated as the cab pulled to a stop, it was just long enough to see a pretty, but aging face smile at me through the side window. I opened the door and said hi to Felicia. She didn't even blink at the sight of my rumpled clothes ... no glances at the grass stains on my slacks or the missing button on the sleeve. She acted like she was so pleased to see me, paid the cabby and said, 'Follow me, dear.' "We entered the hotel, and then I really felt like a turd. Shit! Everybody in clothes like I never saw before. And everyone having such a grand time laughing, kissing, joking. Who said the rich are miserable? That's horseshit ... pure rationalization by the stinking poor. Rich people are just as happy if not happier than poor people, you can bet on that!
"We rode up the elevator to the seventeenth floor. I thought the ride would never end. God, was I miserable. Felicia had read the expression on my face, and upon entering her room she said in a very understanding voice, 'Don't let all this throw you, darling. Anybody can get used to it. Now why don't you go in and take a shower, and when you get out we can talk.' "I went to the bathroom while she got on the phone and ordered some food from room service. After my shower, we had a couple of mild drinks and the food arrived. It was just one dinner-for me. To this day I can't tell you what the hell I ate, I was so ravished with hunger!
"I ate with such noisy gulps and slurps that I hadn't noticed Felicia changing her clothes. When I looked up, she was wearing a gorgeous sheer negligee.
"'Now that your little tummy is filled,' she said rather cutely, 'let's satisfy our other hunger.' I stood up and she threw her arms around my neck, pulling me close to her warm body.
"Felicia kissed my neck and cheeks. 'You know,' she said, 'you could use some new clothes. There's a wonderful men's shop in the hotel. I think we'll do a little shopping first thing tomorrow.' "I was stunned! But I felt great. Jesus, talk about opportunities. I wasn't about to pass up this one! It wasn't the kind one got every day.
"I realize she made me feel obligated, but I didn't care-she wasn't repulsive, anyway. And even if she was ... well, I guess I wouldn't have called her if she was.
"I removed my shirt and pants quickly. Felicia slithered into bed, still in her negligee. I couldn't stop thinking about the new clothes she was going to buy me. Enthusiastically, I hopped into bed and planted a kiss on her lips. 'Aren't you going to take this thing off?' I asked, pulling lightly at the sheer material.
"Felicia smiled softly, took my hand in hers and kissed the fingers. 'A woman likes to feel as though she's being seduced, not used. Tomorrow we're going to talk a lot about what women like. You have the makings of a wonderful lover for lonely gals like me. I wouldn't worry your pretty blond head about getting a job. I think you could make out pretty good if you devote your energies to lonely sex-starved girls like myself. You're not the first I've initiated into this profession.' "She continued to kiss and brush my fingers with her lips.
"'With a little know-how, you could be quite secure. That is, if you don't mind making love to old biddies like me,' she said, clenching my hand tightly.
"She was sucking on my fingers, one by one, and bolts of sexual desire moved rapidly down to my prick. I was thinking over her suggestion seriously, wondering how I might like being a gigolo. Felicia licked my fingers with her sexy tongue. 'You can think about it tomorrow,' she whispered. 'Right now you're going to earn your new suit.' "I lowered my six foot frame onto her soft form and began sucking her shoulder. She purred like a kitten and petted the back of my head lovingly. My prick was resting on her thigh, moving and swelling against the soft flesh.
"I licked and sucked about her neck and shoulders, moving slowly downward, anxious to get my mouth around those big hard nipples. My tongue had suddenly become her caresser, rather than my hands. I discovered how enjoyable it was just to lick her skin and listen to her moan and move from the ecstasy it brought her.
"I licked down to her armpits, circling the curve from her soft chest to the shoulder. Down, down, licking onto her flesh which became breasts, swollen flesh that rose toward me just begging to be sucked and licked. Felicia was quite passionate by now, heaving her chest against me in an effort to take in more and deeper breaths.
"I placed my mouth over the transparent cloth which covered those pink nipples and breathed my hot breath onto her swollen tit. She whimpered and thrust her chest up to my mouth, but I backed off, teasing the nipple with my hot breath. She became wild with lust, writhing and whimpering like a little girl.
"My hand moved slowly to the bottom of the garment and lifted it over her knees. She raised her hips, allowing it to be slipped past her hairy pussy to her chest and over those luscious mounds of sexy nipples.
"My tongue flicked across her nipple, wetting it, then making love to it with long, slow laps.
"'Oh, my God,' she cried, 'you're driving me crazy! Oh, suck on it ... please suck on it ... oh, yes. I'm burning up!' "I plunged my head down, sucking in that luscious nub and more. I sucked in as much tit as my mouth would hold, pulling and sucking like a hungry baby. My hand slipped into her wet pussy lips, fingering the flesh folds, pinching and rubbing, pressing and pulling.
"'Oh, God,' Felicia yelled, a terrible desperateness in her voice, 'I'm going to fuck you! I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked!' "She whipped her body from my grasp and ordered me to lie on my back. I rolled onto by back, prick pointing straight up. Felicia was wild with passion. She mounted me eagerly, hungrily, almost uncontrollably, and grabbed my hard prick in her hand like a woman gone berserk.
"'I'm going to fuck you; baby,' she cried. 'I'm going to rape you, you sexy young fucker.' She positioned herself carefully over my prick and sat down hard, engulfing my swollen meat to the hilt.
"I reached up and took her protruding nipples between my fingers. I rolled them and pinched them between my forefinger and thumb, pulling gently and twisting. She bounced up and down on my pole, jamming it into her hot lovely body. It was wild but beautiful-the sight of this sex crazed female pounding her girlish body up and down on mine, thrashing about, her head bobbing back and forth.
"'I love it, oh, God, I love it,' she cried through gritting teeth. 'You sexy bastard you ... oh you wonderful sexy thing you. I love it ... I love it. Give me all your meat. Oh, God, how I love it!' "My own teeth began to clench as I felt the whirling in my gut, the onset of an orgasm. Her pussy was so smooth, and fought so angrily against my big prick that I was regretful that I was coming so soon. I wanted it to last forever. Man, this woman could fuck like nobody's business.
"I grunted, 'I'm coming ... I'm coming ... "She jammed her body down with swifter strokes, hammering her ass on my balls and thighs. I yelled like a man being killed, so intense and fulfilling was the spasm which first brought all my muscles into flex.
"Felicia screamed over and over. Her shrill voice piercing the air like arrows in all directions. Her fine body pounded away at mine, jerking and twisting as I shot gobs of come into her cavern. She was still pumping after I had shot my last, and my prick began to shrink.
"She stopped suddenly and fell forward onto my chest, weeping tears of joy onto my already wet skin.
"When we caught our breath, she placed her hands on either side of my cheeks, gazing into my eyes with her tear filled eyes. 'I think,' she said, articulating each word, as if making fun, 'you just earned yourself a pair of shoes, also.' "She giggled like a young girl and swung herself off of my wet pubic area. I was soaked with sperm, which trickled down my thighs and onto the bed.
"I was lucky to meet Felicia as the first woman to pay me for sex. She was a real gas. Felicia told me that she has a boy every year she comes to Chicago. Not only does she get young virile sex, she explained, but she also gets a kick out of mothering the boys, such as buying them clothes and seeing that they are taken care of in other ways, like new fillings for their teeth or sometimes even a car-if she really digs them. As a parting gift, she bought me a car.
"You might say I owe my livelihood to her. Oh, I don't expect to do this much longer. In a year or two I think I'll hit one of the old gals up for a business loan and open up a dress shop in some exclusive area. Then, if things go well, I pay off the old broad and kiss her good-bye. Then I'll have the money and time to keep chicks my own age.
"But Felicia was the only broad I really enjoyed. The others ... well, the others are just so many dumb rich old biddies, that's all. It took me a while to get used to fucking sloppy, sagging cunts, and eating wrinkled pussies, and kissing wrinkled old bodies. But you can get used to anything if you have a strong motive, and I've got one -money. Lots of money.
"They don't have to buy me things anymore ... I charge by the night, day or afternoon. Sometimes I don't even have to fuck them. I've had a few old gals who were too embarrassed to let me fuck their tired, old bodies, and simply requested that I make them come with my fingers. Can you imagine paying me fifty dollars to spend the evening as an escort and top it off with a finger-fuck? That's easy money, fella.
"Fucking costs more, of course. Right now my going rate is $100 per night for a fucking. I knock off a few bucks for things like hand jobs or quickies. Then there are the weirdies. Those are the gals who go for the unusual, like masochism or sadism or voyeurism and the like. It's hard for them to find sexual gratification with a young man in the way they like, so you can really sock it to them.
"Just last week I had a woman who wanted to pay me just to watch me jack off. We had a few drinks in her room and then she turned all the lights off except a special one which was focused on me. She sat in the dark behind the light, playing with herself while she watched me playing with myself. Every so often she'd say 'balls' or 'prick' or 'ass.' That meant she wanted me to play with that part of my body.
"The evening ended when she would say 'come now!' I beat my meat like crazy, and just as I shot I heard her groaning and grunting from her own orgasm. Tricks like that cost two hundred for the whole evening.
"I tell you, the world is one fucking, sucking place. In my business you really see what people are. Sex is the common denominator for any and all types, and I prove it every day. You'd be surprised at the women who have paid me for services. The cream of society. If that sounds strange, consider this: how else are they going to get their jollies without having somebody find out? They have to do it with strangers who they never expect to see again, unless they want to come to where the person is for a repeat performance-somebody like myself who is a professional and can be trusted. Part of my business depends on referrals, so you see how discreetness pays off.
"Fuck, suck, play ... all for pay. How's that for a motto?"
Mathew M- is so totally involved in the financial side of his sex life that a favorable prognosis is extremely difficult to make. One of the primary negative features of prostitution is the contempt it breeds-often for all human beings in general-in the heart and mind of the professional sex merchant. And the subject of this case is a case in point. If he is not apprehended-or if he does not seek professional help-the chances are that he will be fairly well off financially and will be able to retire into a life of lonely comfort.
CHAPTER FIVE- On-the-Line Lover
"The campus quad seemed half its usual size when all the kids settled down for lunch. I was eating with some of the guys when a particularly fine little fox tripped by, her mini-skirt half-way up her little butt.
"Davey grinned over at me. 'What you lookin' at, man? Your tongue's hanging down to your fly!' "I threw a crumpled candy wrapper at him and was about to sock it to him about his own girl-peeping when I suddenly realized he rarely, if ever, showed any particular interest in the local talent. And I knew he was no fag.
"'Hey, how is it you never pick up on the furry little chickens yourself? I mean, this school grows them nice, what with the dumb broads all thinking they'll get discovered and all.' I singled out a lovely young thing in hot-pants and a tight sweater. Her tits were braless under the knit, and her little nipples just about poked holes through the sweater. Let me tell you, I'm no sex-fiend or anything, but there were some days I went through my classes with a hard on that would not go down! I stared at the way this chick's pretty little ass peeped through the bottom of her hot-pants. 'Some of them are even worthy of your fucking attention.' "He eyed the girl dispassionately and shrugged. 'I just don't need it, Ken, loverman, baby. I got all the action I can handle right now.' He looked around, saw that the other guys were arguing over a recent football score, and edged closer. 'I not only got enough-even more than enough-I also got me women, man, not these dumb-assed little girls who don't know yet what to do with what they got. Women, Kenny, my boy, women who know just what to do to make a guy get it on good!' "He moved still closer, his blue eyes bright with an excitement he couldn't quite hide behind his habitual super-cool. 'Not only that, but they pick up the tab! And that includes a little piece of change in my jeans, too! To say nada about these out-of-sight meals and shows and stuff!' "I was confused and willing to show it. But before I could ask what he was talking about, Fast Man planted himself between us. He was noisily demanding a blow by blow rundown of the last school football game.
"Davey got up then. He winked at me. 'I'll pick you up after fifth period, if you want. I just got me some wheels, you know.' His voice was bland as hell, but I knew he'd been frothing at the mouth for a car.
"I watched him walk away, arrogant as hell, leaving me to figure out what in hell he'd been rapping about. Sure, I was damn curious.. And yeah, I admit it, it also sounded damn good.
"Then Judy popped up out of nowhere. She sat down next to me on the grass, a half-eaten cheese sandwich in her hand. I ignored her while I gave Fast Man an argument about the merits or lack of regarding that particular game. Some guys really get up-tight over a dumb-assed football game, like it was really important or something. Our team had simply blown it, that was all, and there was no point in making a big deal out of it. Finally, Fast Man took off, continuing his relentless search to find someone who shared his view that the team had been robbed.
"'You still mad at me?' Judy asked, addressing the cheese sandwich, now three-quarters gone.
"I decided to talk to my Coke. 'Why should I be mad?' I asked coolly. I was playing the Bogart I-could-careless game. But we both knew. Boy, did we ever!
"Judy had promised to finally break down and let me fuck that cute little cunt of hers, finally, after about a million dates and near-fucks.- She had finally promised. Shit, we could have built our own brave new world entirely populated with my sperm from all the times I'd come in her hand or in my bed after a date with the little bitch! She'd gotten me worked up so many times that I'd finally decided to hell with her. She could find some other cat to turn on only to shut him down. I'd had it.
"So she'd called me, her prim voice kind of scared but sure, like she'd come to some big decision. She was actually going to let me throw it to her! Even though I was on the point of dropping her, let me tell you, those words almost had me dropping my rocks on Mom's clear kitchen floor! We set it up for the following Friday, and I thought it would never get here.
"I like to do things right, so I took the life savings, sprung for a really fancy dinner, two tickets to Superstar at the Bowl, and rented me a room at a plush motel! It was supposed to be her first shagging, right? So old Ken boy figures she should do it in style. Nothing but the best for my baby. Yeah! Sure! Power to the prick-teasers! Bullshit!
"The dinner was the greatest, and Superstar was all and more than I'd hoped. It was turning out to be the best night of my life. Then, after some coffee and pie, we headed for the motel. I was cool, you know-no big deal, just a nice old loving fuck between me and my girl. Only it didn't work that way.
"Let me tell you something about Judy. She's really a cute little chick. A natural blonde, with the kind of bouncy body that usually turns out to be even nicer without clothing than it is with, only it seems kind of hard to believe when you look at her in a mini-dress. I'm not quite eighteen yet, but I've been around. So when I say Judy's a doll, even for that movie-town school I go to, take my word for it. A livin', lovin' doll! Or so I thought.
"We'd been dating off and on for better than three years, and I'd never gotten any further than some really heavy fooling around. Oh, I'd gotten those sweet little tits of hers into my mouth, and I've fingered her cunt a dozen or more times. She'd even jacked me off a few times! But that was it, with a capital I. No way would she let me fuck her. She out and out refused to suck me off or, for that matter, she wouldn't even kiss it for me. And when I finally tried, out of absolute desperation and figuring that would do it, tried to lick her gooey little box, she acted like I was Percy Pervert or something, even though most of the guys go that route, if only to light a match under their dolly's ass. But not old Judy. She was perfectly happy to have me go home and jack off date after date, every once in a while condescending to do it for me. Bullshit! I was a big man around that school, and I didn't have to play around like a kid. Judy knew it, too, so she finally gave the go ahead. And she was even bitch enough to fool me into thinking she had changed her mind because she wanted it, too!
""The fancy motel would ordinarily have boggled her mind, but the whole night had been so dazzling Judy had been shocked into silence.
"I whistled while I undressed, faking casualness while Judy was taking a bath. I wanted her to regard the whole thing in a hip way. I mean, this was Judy, for Christ's sake, not some run of the mill chick you pick up to ball. Like she was my chick. You know, the whole bit. Maybe even the marriage bit one of these days.
"She came out of the john wearing a knock-out gown slit up to the crotch with these cute little hot-pants underneath. Listen, I could have done without those hot-pants. I was itching to get that tight, little hole of hers wrapped around my cock. I grabbed her and started tongue-kissing her right away.
"She felt good in my arms, especially with that nothing she was wearing. I hadn't bothered putting on anything to wear, so it was just me, my rigid cock and Judy with her thin little gown and a nicely locked door.
"We played mouth games for a while, kissing and sliding our tongues in and out of each other's mouths. I was so damn hot that at first I didn't sense anything wrong. I mean, I'd waited a hell of a long time for this! I slipped my hands into her gown and grasped each perfect tit, squeezing them gently, being a little surprised at their fullness. She'd never seemed this big before. I ducked my head and sucked a pale nipple into my mouth. My dick was so damn hard I could have plugged her ten times before it would've gone down. 'How do you get this damned thing off?' I asked, tilting my head to look up at her.
"That was my first surprise. Judy was anything but out of her mind with passion. In fact, she looked worried. But once she realized I was looking at her, she plastered a smile on her frozen face and got busy removing the gown.
"My prick didn't wilt the least little bit. Not looking at her perfect body, I reached down immediately to rub her cunt. Then I slipped a finger inside her. As I'd suspected, she was bone-dry, with just enough cream in her cunt to lubricate my finger. Man, let me tell you, that was an ego crusher! Here I was, worked up like that, and old Judy might have been doing her math for all the passion she was obviously showing.
"Then I thought again. After all, she might just be a little scared and nervous. I should be gentle with her, not on some busted ego trip. So I stretched my nakedness over hers, rested my weight on my elbows, and, very gently, not touching her except with my body, sort of giving her a chance to get used to it, I began to kiss her. First I only grazed her lips, then I put on a little pressure. Her sweet tits were poking holes in my chest and I could feel the furry warmth of her pussy inches below my cock, but I kept on, kissing her, giving her the tongue, sucking on her pouty bottom lip.
"When I figured she must be warming up, I carefully lowered some of my weight on her more deliberately, allowing my chest to grind into her soft tits a little. And I brought my belly squarely on top of hers. The fine hairs of her crotch tickled the base of my belly, and my spreading thighs. Then I began kissing her for real.
"I don't know when it hit me, or when I knew for sure. There's nothing of the mystic about me, and I sure as hell had a lack of experience about these things. But somehow, as my belly pressed into hers, I became aware of a peculiar hardness to her mid-section, a steely plate resting somewhere beneath the layer of soft flesh. Maybe it was the way we were plastered together. Or something in the way she didn't quite look at me. I swear I don't know. But one minute I was all primed for a fine ride, feeling a little as I did when those TV ads urged me to 'Fly Annie to Atlanta.' I was all set for the big takeoff, hot to 'fly' Judy to the moon. Then I suddenly put together her weird attitude, those fuller-than-remembered tits of hers, the steel plate turn-turn ... I came up with pregnant. In spades.
"The freaky trip suddenly got to me. Man, that hunk of meat of mine began to shrink like it had been given a once-over with an ice cube. 'You knocked up, Judy?' I got out, rolling off her.
"This time she looked at me. She didn't even have the balls to look ashamed. 'Two months.' "Two months! Two months ago I was climbing walls to get into her pants, and she was having none of it! And here she was letting some guy....
"'It's this biker cat. He sort of overwhelmed me, you know? I thought I really loved him. But last week I found out the bastard was already married....
"I didn't want to hear about it. I was feeling kind of sick. Pretty soon she shut up. 'So what are you going to do about it?' "She shrugged. 'Tell my mom, what else? I'll tell her some biker raped me, and I didn't want to tell her about it because there was nothing she could've done anyway, and now I'm pregnant. She'll get me fixed up. At least that's legal now.' "I nodded, really having nothing to say one way or the other. Then Judy touched my arm.
"'You still can. Ball me, I mean. I wasn't trying to lay a trap on you or anything. I mean, I can't get any more pregnant, can I?' "But somehow I'd gotten out of the mood. 'Forget it, Judy. Another time, huh? Come on, let's get you home.' "I played it pretty cool, even giving her a quick kiss at the door and wishing her luck with her mother. But when she asked me if I was still mad, we both knew the answer.
"Choking down the remains of my Coke, I casually got up and glanced at my watch. 'Gotta go. I have to meet Davey this afternoon, which means cutting study period. So I better get on my trig. See you around, Judy.' I nodded to the guys and took off, deliberately not looking back. Thinking of Judy was too painful. Instead I thought again of Davey.
"His 'wheels' turned out to a nearly new Vega. I was impressed. Even more, I was up-front nosy. Davey didn't even have a part-time job, and his folks couldn't afford to buy him a car like this.
"He laid out the whole thing for me right away, over a joint as we parked in the local lovers' lane in the hills. That was the deadest place in the world during the day, a perfect place to smoke a little dope and talk in private.
"'I was hitching a ride, as usual, and this older chick picks me up, dig?' he began, passing me the joint. 'You know how rare it is when a woman gives a guy a ride. Well, this was even weirder, because she was in a really nice car, and she wasn't a bad looking broad. Just the type for a rape and rip the car off trip, if that was your bag. But she was real nice, maybe a little nervous, but I got the feeling it wasn't out of fear. She kept looking me over, and finally, she offered to take me all the way where I was going if I wanted to wait until she picked up something or other over at her house first.' "I waited impatiently as he went to work on that joint for a while. I was gently stoned already.
"'She lived in this really cool house out in Westwood. Her husband was out of town, she said, and she sure was nervous at being alone at night in the place. Then, like it was something she only just thought about, she comes up with this big plan. If I would stay at the house with her that night, she would give me ten dollars! You know, like for baby-sitting or body-guarding or something. Well, I'm no dumbo, and I suddenly take me a second look at the way the chick is eye-balling me. Then I look around the big pad. Shit, I don't know what came over me, but I said sure, for twenty, though. I gave her a bullshit story about having a chance to make twenty that night at a friend's body shop. So this chick-Linda's her name-goes for it! After a phone call home and to this chick I was supposed to take in a flick with, I was all settled in for the night.' "All that was left of the joint was a bit of cigarette paper. He rolled it into a ball with his stained fingertips.
"'Don't keep me hanging there, man. Get on with it, Davey!' He was fascinating the shit out of me.
"Grinning, he continued. 'It was the greatest. Linda fixes me a dinner like you never saw, with stuff in wine sauce and a drink before, during and after the meal. Then we watched TV a little, and finally, she goes off to get into something comfortable, I figure. Only I'm wrong, and the chick comes out bare-assed naked! She's like got to be damn near forty, but she looks good! So she plunks herself down on the couch next to me and we get on with the action. Shit! That broad would have swung from the ceiling if I'd wanted her to! And did she ever dig everything! Listen, I learned more that night than all my other balling trips put together! I creamed my guts out and so did she!' He paused to take a puff, then went on.
"'In the morning she gave me the twenty I'd asked for and another ten just because I'd taken such good care of her, she said. Then she sucked me off again ... for the road, I guess, and gave me a ride to school. Man! I couldn't wait to see her again.' He looked down at a jagged thumbnail, then began chewing on it. 'I saw her a few more times, then she introduced me to Paula, a friend of her, a widow, I think. Paula offered me twenty-five bucks if I'd come spend a night with her. That was great, too, but not quite as meaty as Betty, who was next. Paula was a little on the skinny side. By that time Linda and Paula wanted to know if I knew any other young studs, you dig? So I brought over some guys I knew, telling them up-front I wanted a cut. They were all for it, and now I've got more action than I can possibly handle, and every bit of it is better than the one before. So I got all the sex I can handle, of a high-class type. I've been able to make payments on this car, and I'm never hurting for bread. It's a cash-on-the-line job, you dig?' He laughed. 'Still wonder why I could care less about the teeny-bopper cunts with their big mouths and twitching asses? An older chick doesn't hassle your head. She knows what she wants, what you want, and what it's worth. Man, I used to have to beg some of these school chicks for a piece of tail! Beg for it! And when they finally give it to you, most of 'em don't do much more than wiggle once or twice!' Grinning, he bit off a final piece of nail. 'These women, though, know how to milk the come right out of your balls. And they pay you for the honor, too.' "Right. Okay. For sure. So it took me all of about three seconds to ask Davey to fix me up with one of them. I mean, after all-especially after Judy-I was more than ready!
"Davey sized me up, the prick, as if he already didn't know I was about forty times better looking, better built and better hung than he could ever hope to be!
"Finally, he flashed me the old grin and asked if I was doing anything special that night.
"I grinned right back. 'I wasn't, but now I am ... "As soon as I got home, I wolfed down a giant tuna sandwich loaded with hard-boiled eggs and stuff, helping it along with two glasses of milk. I didn't want to be loaded when I went with Davey. This sounded like too much of a good thing to pass up.
"My folks came home from the shop just as I was finishing up. They were laughing at something or other as they came through the door, wrapped up in each other as usual. All the other kids I knew envied me my parents. They were still so young-looking, and they were still stoned on each other. I guess all that's great, but sometimes I'd get to feeling sort of left out, you know, as if I were only passing through town or something.
"As I put away the sandwich stuff, I glanced over at Mother while I told them the story I'd made up about spending the night at a friend's house. She nodded absentmindedly, thinking of something else, probably Dad. It hit me then that she was probably about the same age as the woman I would see that night. I thought about that a minute, testing it in my head. But nothing went tilt or anything. Mom was still a groovy-looking chick. In fact, I gave her an extra big smile as I went out the door, more eager than ever to meet Davey and get on with the show."
Ken T-presents a situation that is almost diametrically contrary to the pattern that has been holding true in the cases studied so far. If anything, his case brings out the fact that in modern society, with its complicated life-styles, its often contrasting outlooks on life from one member to another, no all-inclusive pattern can be established.
The subject of this case history was not the product of a broken home; he did not leave the family environment to become entrapped in a delinquent subculture; he was not motivated to espouse the life-style of a call boy by any pressing financial need or out of desperation: neither was he an uneducated societal dropout. What, then, incited him toward prostitution, temporary though his involvement there will probably be?
The impression one gets, particularly toward the end of the subject's narrative, is that he decided to imitate his friend Dave's life-style because it was a sexually gratifying variation on the life he had been leading up to that point. Ken was obviously a youth who had no problems in finding sex partners among the college coeds; sex was free for the taking and thereby offered no challenge of "conquest" that often appears essential to a man's ego. His reasoning might have been of a purely egotistic nature. He was assured of his sexual powers over his peers; he wanted to take it a step further and see if he could indeed do what Dave was doing; specifically, get paid for his sexual acts.
The immediate question that such reasoning brings is: If one is assured of one's capabilities, why should one want proof of them? The answer is that, in spite of the tenor of the subject's narrative- a narrative that is extremely flippant, flamboyant, and filled with bravado-the subject appears to be suffering from an inferiority complex. And that inferiority complex, a fear of inadequacy, appears to be the pervading atmosphere of the modern times. Myron Brenton, in his The American Male, goes into extensive detail on this subject. He writes: The contemporary male faces sexual responsibilities far exceeding those of men in earlier times. He must gratify himself and his sexual partner. He has to make sure he's a better lover-or at least no worse-than other men. He has to cope with the sexually liberated woman, something that can require a considerable amount of coping. He has to put up with the bittersweet fact that while sex is fortunately no longer hidden away in the Victorian darkness, it has been pushed all the way to the other extreme, where every aspect is spotlighted for detailed examination-and himself along with it.
Further on in his work, Brenton returns to this theme again. He points out specifically: The contemporary American male as lover is caught up in a welter of contradictions. The masculine stereotype demands that he be sexually virile and attentive, but he devotes most of his psychic and physical energies to making a success of himself in the breadwinning role. To make love freely and spontaneously, he must acknowledge his sexual partner erotically; yet too often his stereotyped view of her gets in the way of real eroticism. He lives in a society that exposes him to an unceasing array of sexual stimuli, yet severely limits his response to them. He expects to be the dominant figure in a sexual relationship, but the social and sexual patterns he follows tend to make his woman the controlling figure. He enjoys bragging a bit about how he likes the girls, but many of his attitudes reflect rather more hostility-or at least suspicion-than they do liking....
So, again, there is the hostility present, although the subject of this case manages to conceal it. As a matter-of-fact, he gives vent to his hostilities toward women not by verbally degrading them, or my manifesting any overt sadistic tendencies in his sexual acts with them, but by making them pay him for the use of his "masculine, sexual powers."
And what of the women? What about the clients of male prostitutes? What attitudes do they have toward the carnal transaction?
In most instances involving women who would be able to find gratification without having to resort to paying their partner for the services it appears that the motivation is to establish within their "women's liberation" philosophy a somewhat false basis for their independence. They are, in their minds, reversing the long-established, and unquestionably unjust feeling among men that women are the property of the men. They pay for them. They support them. Now, the women are able to say that they, too, can do it.
What it appears to amount to is a veritable battle of the sexes in which the weapons are sex and money. The incongruousness of the entire situation, however, lies in the fact that Ken, and the other call boys, as well as the women, are equating the inequitable, with some placing more value on money than on sexual gratification, with others doing the opposite, and both, in the process, destroying the possibility of existence for the essential -emotional involvement, admiration, respect, and love.
As the subject's narrative is resumed, one cannot help but feel that it is a dirge to all healthy relationships.
"Davey checked me out like I was a slave on the block up for grabs. 'Hmmm ... wear my gold suede-cloth shirt. The one with the laces at the neck.' "Since he seemed to mean it I shrugged and changed. Then I glanced at myself. I looked pretty good, I guessed. The gold shirt played up my tan and did something to my greenish eyes while showing off my muscles. Shit, I was beginning to feel like a girl getting ready to turn a trick, for Christ's sake.
"'Okay, let's split,' Davey finally said, glancing at his watch, a gift from Linda.
"We drove in silence, though I had a million questions. I was mildly surprised when Davey stopped off to pick up Brent H- and Gary K-, two guys I knew slightly. Gary had dropped out to join the hippie thing, and Brent was going to State College, last I'd heard. 'This better be good,' he remarked, getting into the back seat. 'I've got a test tomorrow.' "'Relax, man,' Gary sighed. 'I just told you. It's more than good. It's mind-blowing, outta sight, great! Beats workin' all to hell.' "The house was on Sunset Drive, and it looked damned expensive. Shit, an outhouse would be expensive in that part of town. We piled out of the car and jammed on into the house as if we owned it, and a flash of how we must look came to mind. Trooping in together this way, we looked like a pack of overly big, cornfed, healthy young studs -exactly what we were. But the thought didn't make me feel ashamed or uptight or anything. In fact, if anything, it sharpened my appetite for what was to come. Like I felt all male and all stud, kind of like soldiers must feel before they set out to take a city or something of that sort.
"The chicks were all talking quietly in a big, plush room with a built-in bar. They were drinking out of real pretty glasses, like you see in the movies, and they all looked us over like we were today's special ... the blue-plate special.
"'Davey! Good! Will you introduce us to your friends?' She touched him lightly on his arm, and my belly did flip-flops. Even though Davey had given me a complete once-over about the scene, I just didn't expect Linda to be this good-looking. Or, well, shit, this much of a lady! She was something, dressed in a well-fitting gray dress that showed real class, but still a lot of leg, with a sort of metallic strip on her shoes that really played up her small feet. Her earrings looked like real pearls, and her makeup was just right, like her soft brown hair color. Just right, not trying to look too young or anything. Class. And the tits and ass under the fancy dress also looked just right. I knew instantly I was going to like this job.
"The other women were cool, too. Paula was on the thin side and a little older than the others, but she looked fine to me in her green slack suit. Betty was another classy broad with very black hair and big knockers. Andrea was very quiet, but kind of cute, and the perfume she wore must have cost a fortune from the smell of it. All in all, the four women were pretty damn groovy. I'd been more than happy to shag any one of them for free, much less for dinner, booze, money, and I'm sure whatever else I'd want.
"The only thing in the way of a kick-back happening as far as I could tell was that old Davey got a cut off the top from everyone-from the women for the introductions, and he'd made it pretty clear we were supposed to lay a little bread on him, too. Also, it was obvious we were to have a little party, with the chicks looking us over and working it out between each other who was to get who. Oh, and before the first drink was gone, they had asked each of us for our phone numbers. Linda said she was in need of some part-time help, Andrea complained of car trouble, Betty sometimes heard prowlers and had no one to call, and Paula just plain asked for my number.
"I'd known from the moment we'd walked into the room that I was going to end up with Linda that first night. Just the way she looked at me, looked back at the others, then back at me. Something behind those cool eyes probed and asked, digested the answer and was satisfied. I could feel it. So I was content to walk around the room, sip at the good-tasting drink I'd been given and pass the time. I had a pleasant little old hard on from all the anticipation, anyway, and I was curious to see how things would go and what Linda could teach me. I mean, I wasn't exactly some innocent virgin or anything. I'd fucked a dozen chicks, a few of them had sucked me off, and I'd even licked a little pussy. So what was new? Well, getting paid for it, for starters.
"It didn't take very long for the women to work it out. How they communicated was beyond me, maybe they had drawn straws on who gets first, second, third, and fourth choice, I don't know. But Linda refilled my glass from a shaker and kissed me lightly on the lips. Right after that Paula put her arm on Gary's arm and whispered something into his ear. Betty glanced speculatively from Brent to Davey, then crossed the room to Brent. Davey and Andrea seemed happy to be paired off. The scent of fresh blood was so heavy in the room I could almost smell it.
"I think, after that, it took all of about five minutes for everyone else to clear out. Maybe less. Anyway, before I knew it, I was alone with Linda, and I was as relaxed as if I'd been with some little fox from school or something. Maybe even more so, because we both knew why I was here, and everything was going to fall into place without any effort on my part.
"'Will you be able to spend the night?' she asked hopefully.
"I grinned. 'Sure. Only I have an early class tomorrow.' "'Oh, that's no problem, dear. I'll drop you off or put you in a cab in plenty of time.' She patted the couch cushion next to her. 'Come here, Kenny. That's right.' "Her hand dropped to my thigh as soon as I sat down. She squeezed it lightly. 'You're a very muscular young man. I like that. Would you like to make me very happy?' Her voice was husky.
"'I'd like to make you very happy, Linda,' I answered, attempting to sound cool.
"'Then undress me, darling. Take all my clothing off without making me do anything.' "My fucking heart skipped a beat as I turned to her. Shit, it was actually happening! I don't think, until that moment, I really believed, deep down, that a classy broad like Linda was going to want me to shag her, much less pay me for the honor of bouncing her around.
"I removed her heels first, observing with a slightly detached part of me that quality even felt good. The shoe had a rich feeling about it that was special, as if class was a three-dimensional thing. You could even smell it. Then I was opening and removing her belt and the detached part of me fused back into my being. In other words, my cock was getting hard.
"It was strange undressing Linda. She didn't move, and her closed eyes faked sleep pretty well. It was in a weird way like the ultimate in taboos, a little like raping your own mother, or something. But not exactly. In any case, I dug it, and my prick dug it.
"Under the dress was this short, silky slip. It had been a long time since I'd seen a chick in a bra, much less a slip, but that was groovy. I got it off her finally and found a bra, a garter belt, stockings and panties underneath. But as I got to work on the bra, I suddenly got on to why the old time pin-up pictures had the broads dressed in all that stuff. It was kind of sexy, in a way, like the added excitement of getting a gift all wrapped up rather than in the box listing what's inside. I wasn't sure how to go about removing the belt and the stockings, so I decided to ignore them. I took off the bra and reached for her full, mature, beautiful tits. They were out of sight. I was hot to get to work sucking on them. But I wanted her out of the panties first, so I pulled down the skimpy pretties, taking my time so I could get a good look at her silky bush. She was nice down there, too, and I somehow just couldn't resist planting a quick kiss right on her bushy cunt, partly to impress her and partly because the urge to do so came from nowhere. Like I said, I've eaten out a few chicks, but that was always to turn them on, not because I go that route, really.
"That brought Linda to life, though. She moaned softly deep in her throat, a helpless little sound that tugged at my cock like an eager hand. I decided to leave the stockings and garter belt as they were. It was getting sexier and sexier, anyway. The idea of the wisps of clothing seemed only to make the rest of her, the parts that mattered, more naked than ever.
"I looked down at her then, half on, half off the couch, her tits beautiful and heaving, her hips tightly separated by the black belt which also seemed to cut into her full thighs, and that foxy cunt of hers was just sticking right out there, above the stockings, out-lined by the garters and topped off by the belt itself, kind of a square bull's-eye. My nuts were aching, though I hadn't as much as kissed her yet. I took care of that on the spot.
"She even kissed different. Once you got most girls down to gettin' it on with you, they give some immediate mouth action, like letting you get half-way down their throats with your tongue, and kissing you back to beat the band. Not Linda. She kept twisting her head, eluding my mouth and searching tongue. I got to kiss the corners of her mouth, her chin, her cheek, her lips, but only for an instant. Usually kissing is a taste of icing on the cake, but what Linda was doing made me want to get at that sexy mouth bad. Finally, I got so damn turned on I forgot all about the money end of it and just forced her head still. Then I went to work on her with my mouth and my tongue, drilling between her lips and teeth with my tongue like I was going to eat her from the inside out. She loved it.
"It had been a while since I'd done the number with a chick, and, knowing I was always good for three comes when I was this hot, I decided I could be a lot more cool if I shot off the first time soon as I could. So I moved between her legs while holding the kiss, and I got my hurting cock lined up with her hole, using my hand and a lot of body radar. But just as I began to shove into her, she suddenly twisted her hips and I ended up ramming my dick straight into empty air. I reached down and brought her back into position, holding her this time. But again, at the point when I relaxed my control of her, when I was ecstatically lunging at her beautiful, wet cunt, she slipped out of my grasp and I was again stroking nothingness. By that time my prick was so hard it hurt and I'd had enough. If I was going to do either of anything, I had to calm down a little.
"So I did what any healthy, warm-blooded cat in my position would do-I pulled her off the couch, threw her to the rug and proceeded to fuck the shit out of her.
"The wild thing about that, let me tell you, was that the whole thing came off as a rape, dig? I mean, even though we were both willing and all, she decided to fight me every inch of the way. Don't ask me why, but nothing any chick ever did before resulted in so fantastic a come! And usually doing a rape number appealed to me not at all. Like, the chicks I knew who needed to fake rape before they'd put out turned me off bad. I couldn't get it on with them for nothing. But I figure the thing with Linda was a whole new thing. She knew why I was trying to pop off that fast, that I'd really make it good after I'd gotten off once, but she'd decided to try fighting me off anyway. Which seems plenty bizarre when you stop to think the cunt was actually paying me to fuck her in the first place.
"So I figured that her trip was something different, like fighting me off was sort of a way of making me dominate her, you know? And doing that, taking her like that, took away all question of who was in control, no matter who was paying for it. I mean, I was on top, and I took what I wanted, and in the end she dug it, lifting that cunt of hers to take each stroke and moaning as I shot a giant load into her womb. Man, it was out of sight!
"Afterwards, she remained still under me, my cock barely softening inside her as I rested. As soon as I got my breath, I began to move again in her, only this time much slower, getting the feel of her wonderful, slippery hole. Somehow I had the idea that the older a broad got, the bigger her hole would be. But, shit, I've laid sixteen-year-olds who were looser. Linda moved very little under me this time, and again I really got into the man-dominating thing, and soon I was riding her for all I was worth, nowhere near ready to come yet, just banging away like crazy for the fun of it, and because I knew she was digging the shit out of it all. Her cunt was so wet and hot I thought I'd never get enough of it, no matter what.
"After a few minutes of this, she spoke. Her voice was all whispery and submissive, with a little of the cock-teaser to it. 'Since you love forcing that big thing on me so much, I suppose you're going to take my other hole, too,' she stated, since it wasn't really a question. In fact it came out like an absolute fact, a terrible thing I was planning to do to her that she was at a loss to prevent from happening. So it came out a statement of simple fact.
"Let me tell you, I'd never given it to anyone in the ass before, I don't think I had ever so much as considered it seriously, and after one sentence from this woman, I was hurting to shove my dick up her asshole! Man, was she ever a turn-on! I knew now what Davey was talking about!
"Before I could even react to what she'd said, though, Linda began to turn around, breaking our contact only at the last possible moment. My cock felt a splash of cold air, then her hand was around it, guiding it between the satiny smooth cheeks of her very white ass. The head touched the spongy flesh of her little brown slit, and I couldn't help think the chick was crazy, out of her mind, freaked out, because there was no way in the world that ramrod of mine was going to fit up that little hole.
"That's how much I knew.
"Linda backed gently into it, grinding down on the head. She used the slick goo from her cunt as lubricant, and slowly I began to go crazy myself. I mean, here was this chick working to take my meat up her asshole, grinding down on it, backing into it, and suddenly I found it impossible to give a damn about how it could or couldn't fit in there. One way or the other, I had to get it in there, and if it ended up hurting her, the hell with her. She was asking for it, and, shit, was she ever going to get it!
"I grabbed her hips and held on like they were built-in handles. I nudged the puckered opening experimentally, then pulled back. My hips swung forward like they were greased at the joints. I felt the tight ring just inside grip the head of my cock and attempt to keep it back, but it didn't have a chance. I pressed harder than ever and nearly passed out from the exquisite pressure of her silky walled asshole as it gripped and milked my cock as I slowly moved in and out of her, gaining an inch with every plunge. Man, it was the very most, the absolute finest. I began to fuck that asshole as if I hadn't just blown my nuts a few minutes earlier. I was tripping out on that tight hole, grooving on the differences between this and cunt-fucking.
"But Linda didn't give me too much time to think. She was all over me, bucking and moaning, reaching for my hands so that I could play with her tits, twisting her head around so I could kiss her. And all the time I was in her asshole up to my balls, working in and out of that sexy hole of hers like I was out to split her in two and was in a hurry to do it. Impossible as it seemed, she didn't seem to be feeling any pain, and I was beyond caring if she did. I mean, she could have been screaming her head off at that point, and I still would have given her the fucking of her life. It was feeling too good to stop.
"After a while, though, in that way she had of catching me absolutely off guard, the fucking bitch deliberately let it slip out. We got into pulling it back until it was almost out, then crashing together. After a couple of those shots I was so close to coming off again I left it all up to her. So she let it slip out.
"But before I could get too indignant about it, Linda was down on her knees, had pushed me to my back, and that mouth of hers, that proper, socialite mouth of hers went to work on me good. First she licked every inch of my twitching meat, then took each of my balls in her mouth one at a time, sucking and lapping at them. Next she sucked hard on just the head of my dick, and when that got to feeling unbearable, she removed her mouth and slid over my body, fastening her lips to one of my flat little nipples, sucking it hard. No one had ever done that to me before, but it felt great.
"After a while at that, she kissed me, giving me about a mile of tongue. Then she licked my ear until my cock began to leak a little. She paused to lap that up, then went back to my chest, tongued her way back down my body to my cock, passed that up all the way, scooted between my legs, shot her tongue deep up my asshole before I had any idea what the hell she was going to do next, and then moved back to my prick while I was gasping from the electric shock of a hot, wet tongue penetrating my asshole. She got busy sucking me by then, and, let me tell you, after all that action I think she got to suck me all of one minute before I exploded down her throat. I came off in great spasms, shooting my come into her mouth like there was a faucet stuck open in my balls. But she loved every last drop, swallowing and pumping me for more. Man, she was really wild for young cock!
"She had moved around so much in the last five minutes that I wasn't surprised to see her hairy cunt and delicious thighs close to my face as she licked my pole clean. Something came over me, a big wave of good feeling for Linda, and I blew my own mind by reaching over, pulling her closer and opening her legs. My nose tickled her crotch and I inhaled her rich woman-sex scent, my own sex odor, and in the background, a hint of the fantastic perfume she wore. Her slit was oozing, and I shot my tongue into her. She moaned as I licked her clit like crazy, wanting to show her I wasn't some dumb kid she had to teach from scratch. Man, I never licked pussy like that before, and she was coming almost at once. That made me feel fine.
"I took her into my arms and kissed her softly. It had been the experience of my entire life. And I was getting paid for it!
"She snuggled against me, and, in spite of having more than I'd ever expected, I felt a selfish pang of sorrow that the trip was over for now. But we were sleeping together, so there was the morning to look forward to. And, who knew? Maybe, in the middle of the night, after she'd had a little sleep, just maybe....
"Linda didn't give me much of a chance to daydream. She got to her feet, stretched that groovy bod of hers, and reached out a hand to me.
"'llp, you beautiful male animal, you. It's getting cold on the floor. Come on, darling, get up. Let's go to my big, warm bed and do it right for a while, she purred, waiting for me.
"Let me tell you, she didn't stay waiting more than a heartbeat. She sounded like things were just about to really get started, and I sure as shit wasn't about to let them start without me!
"Let me say this: as I followed Linda's twitching ass down the hall, I gave some serious thought to donating my earnings to my favorite charity ... "
There is a possibility that the subject, having proven his desirability to himself, will abandon the game of prostitution that he is playing. At this time, however, it is not a positive prognosis. CONCLUSION To include a "conclusion" to such a study as is contained herein would be as frivolous, incomprehensible and idiotic as if one were to theorize the single force which incites the young male to become a call boy.
Nonetheless, the question of male prostitution as it bears upon the individual involved deserves some general statements.
Prostitution is known as the world's "oldest profession," having had its roots traced by eager researchers back to the early histories of man as contained in segments of Holy Scripture. And, too, prostitution is flourishing throughout the countries of the world, regardless of boundaries, either geographical or political.
Because prostitution reflects the economic and social structure as well as the influence of religion, family, and other factors, it cannot be considered as an isolated phenomenon in the United States or any other country. Prostitution, either as practiced by the female or her male counterpart, to a greater degree reflects larger trends in male-female relationships.
There are a number of forces presently at work which could conceivably affect the possibility of an increase in prostitution. On the other hand, some contrary trends could considerably diminish the practice of prostitution, not only in the United States, but also in other countries.
Prostitution is a reality, and to treat it as if it did not exist is an unrealistic approach to a possible solution. There are those who would contend it was, is, and always shall be, so we had better make the best of it. This, too, seems to be an unrealistic, if not totally illogical, approach.
To begin with, any attempt to evaluate precisely just how serious a threat male and female prostitution poses to the American social order should involve a thorough study of all comparative data on the subject from other countries. Such data, unfortunately, do not exist presently.
But even if such data were available, would it be justifiable to make any general predictions or conclusions regarding prostitution as a whole? Historically, many Americans have looked at the problem as a nonhumanistic entity, disregarding the human aspect of those caught within the grip of prostitution. The question can be discussed as a legal, social, or moral problem. However, a different perspective is required for each approach and each must have its own set of different considerations.
When one speaks of prostitution, one is not speaking of a "thing," but rather of people-human beings who, because of one or a series of influencing factors, have been drawn or led into the practice of prostitution. It becomes pathetic, yes, when the discussion centers around the fact that there are young girls and young boys who actively engage in the profession. Horror strikes the puritan heart at such hearings.
One fact stands paramount: to find an answer to the question of prostitution, a careful, detailed study must begin with the individual prostitutes, trying to discover in his or her background what factor or factors were instrumental in bringing him or her into the profession.
As was previously quoted from Benjamin Karpman's work The Sexual Offender and His Offenses, one outstanding factor in the genesis of a prostitute "is the lack of adequate family love in early and later childhood; ... the manifest irregularity in the sexual life of the parents ... [causing] the prostitute [to display] an urge to make a mockery of parental love ... [while] the brothel-keeper makes a mockery of family life."
This century has witnessed a variety of attitudes and beliefs regarding prostitution. Such feelings have been liberally and eagerly at times translated into laws and procedures, creating, in terms of their degree of endorsement and acceptance of the practice, a wide gap ranging from complete prohibition to the acceptance of prostitution as a socially desirable and almost essential service.
Possibly, if the subjects contained herein would have received a more realistic sexual education, their stories might not have been included in this work. Although free sexual discussion is still controversial and is still not totally accepted in some parts of the country, there is a flicker of hope in that such free discussions will become more firmly established within the very near future.
As more young people become involved in such discussions of man's sexual makeup, such instruction should help the next generation to be more realistic, more honest about the practice of prostitution. Hopefully, long before that time, enlightened approaches to the question of prostitution will assist in helping those already involved in the practice, and more so, assist potential practitioners in reevaluating logically their potential as sexual beings outside the realm of prostitution.
