This book was inspired by all the letters that came to me after The Happy Hustler was published. When the subject, making love, was first proposed to me, I rejected the suggestion. I thought the world had had enough of The Sensuous Woman and The Joy of Sex and Gay Spirit. Who wanted another book telling readers how to be better lovers? But your letters kept coming in, and they finally made me see that there was a real need for such books, and will be until the world has turned on to the simple fact that everyone can be a sensuous lover, filled with gay or straight or bisexual spirit, and that sex can bring everyone joy. In fact, I prefer to avoid the labels altogether. How about calling yourself a bisexual lover?
The letters ... I answered the first hundred or so, sometimes writing long into the night, and after a while I found myself repeating my own basic philosophy, as well as giving the same tips on how to find a pussy under skirt and panties without making your girl think you're a clumsy gorilla, or what I think is the best way to draw out a session of cocksucking until you drive the guy you're doing to ecstasy. So many questions were the same that I finally gave in and admitted a book on making love seemed to be almost essential.
Take these questions, for example:
"Grant, how can I get my girl to suck my cock better? She's a great lay, but she doesn't know how to give a blow job. Tell me what to tell her."
" ... and when I read your book I thought, well, he's the one to ask. Why can't I go out and find a boy? What is it about me that stops me from saying yes to him? I'm still a virgin and I hate it! But I'm always afraid I won't be any good."
"My lover and I have the best relationship anyone could ask for, except in bed. He's beautiful, has a terrific body, and we suck each other's cocks, but something's missing. It's already getting boring. Got any suggestions to help keep our love life exciting?"
"I can't make my husband come when I suck him. No matter how hard I try, he always has to do it by hand. What am I doing wrong? He won't tell me. Maybe you can."
" ... and I've wanted to go to bed with another guy for as long as I remember. But I chicken out. Lately when I'm balling a chick, she tells me my head wasn't into it. Right. I'm fantasizing about other guys. I read all the things you wrote about making it with men, I mean I know what to do in bed (most everything, I think), but how do I approach someone? Why am I so scared, but so horny at the same time?"
"How do I become as good a lover as you are?"
"I've never had a really sexually satisfying experience. You seem to have had hundreds! I envy you. Please, if you have the time, tell me what is the key to making a sex act something emotionally stimulating and satisfying? I feel physical pleasure, but there must be something more to it than that."
"Dear Tracy, tell me how to become a good lover."
The requests go on and on. I had planned to write a second book, telling you all about the adventures I've had since The Happy Hustler. And I will-next. But first I had to do this book, because so many people wanted to know how to make love.
And so I'm going to tell them.
Now, I hate that line-I'm going to tell them. I suppose that's what I inherently hated in the idea of all those how-to books, those guidebooks to fucking; I hated the attitude that "I'm better than you are, so you should feel lucky that I'm going to let you in on a few of my secrets." That's ego-massaging bullshit. No one person can tell others how to make love.
But he can tell them what has worked for him, share with others in an older-brother sense the aspects of a love life that has worked for him. I can't say I know it all-I don't. I do know something, though, for sex has been my business for a long and happy time, and if my experience and the things I've learned from others can help just a little, then I'll have succeeded. I'm going to share my thoughts and experiences and hints with you. I'm not going to tell you or teach you how to make love, because you already know (even if you don't believe that yet). What I'm going to do is tell you what has been right for me, and for others I've known, and hope that just one or two aspects of my idea of making love help you.
I'm not a doctor. (I don't trust most books on sex by doctors, anyhow, because they seem written for advanced med students only.) I'm not an expert. (The so-called experts are usually either psychologists who write in lofty tones and fill their books with sexy pictures and their pockets with money, or pop sexologists who presume to be orgasm experts, when the fact is they probably. have never had one.) My only qualification for writing this book is a desire to see people sexually free. I've been asked: how do I abolish the guilt, inhibitions, anxieties? I hope I can help, and the only way I know how to help is by sharing my experiences with you as honestly as I know how.
Because of my profession, I was forced to learn on a daily basis how to improve my sexual performance-just as a taxi driver is forced to learn to be a good driver, for he must be good at what he does. He must also learn the streets he drives on, and so did I have to learn to experience many avenues of sexual enlightenment.
It's an old theory but a sound one. Like yourself. To be a good taxi driver, the person must like doing it. He must like driving. He must like cars. He must like people. To be a good lover, you must like yourself. Your body is the car you're going to be driving, and you must like that, too. If you don't, well, you can't trade it in for a new model. But you can fix it up and get it into shape. But before you decide whether you need to improve your body, you need to respect it. Doesn't matter what it looks like. Respect it. If you want your body to function, take care of it and be proud of it. When you respect your own body, you'll be in a position (literally, I hope) to have others respect it. Then you'll begin to respect other bodies, and making love to another body will be a joyous experience.
There are certain clich's that hold true when making love. "If it feels good, do it!" "Don't knock it unless you've tried it!" "Do unto others ... " And so on. They're all valid, but even more important than truth is attitude. Above all, don't be afraid of pleasure. I think a lot of people are afraid, really afraid, to have a good time-especially sexually. The bedroom is a playground and should be thought of as such. It's a retreat, a recess from life's complexities. It demands to be enjoyed.
During the year that I've been promoting my book and philosophies, I've learned a lot. You have been my teacher, you, the reader, the woman who stopped me on the street to ask a question, the boy who wrote me from his dormitory. I realize that society still frowns on sex for its own sake. In every shape and form. You've made that very clear to me. In this age of sexual freedom, there's sexual repression everywhere. It doesn't make sense, does it? Some of what I'm going to share with you, some of the things I hope you'll learn to enjoy, are against the law in certain areas of the country. Open practice of sex is certainly a desecration in the eyes of most organized religions. Why? When two people make love, they communicate, share, reveal themselves, give each other pleasure and happiness, whether for a moment or for a lifetime. I can't see what is illegal or immoral about that. If you want to get the most out of lovemaking, you must disregard what is "normal," and think this: be abnormal and proud of it.
I don't think anyone should be judgmental. In my first book, I made it very clear that the reason I was a "happy" hustler was that I am free of guilt. It is one thing to judge the performance of a play, the color of a new outfit on your friend, your car's miles to the gallon, and so on. But it's quite another to put someone down because he likes to go to bed with older women. Or other men. Or sheep. People shouldn't judge you for your sex preferences, and you shouldn't judge your own. The drive is there; go with it. If you're a practicing bisexual, don't put down the exclusive homosexual. If you're gay, don't take jabs at a straight. Get into being what you are and be happy. And it. If you're a practicing bisexual, don't put down the ex-you think it's time? Why waste precious minutes/hours/days worrying about what mayor may not turn you on? Get in there and try it-if you like it, great; if not, you've lost nothing and you may have gained some peace of mind. And maybe you've rid yourself of some of that guilt that had been sitting on your shoulders.
You will not perform well if you think only, "How am I doing?" This is a time to concentrate on your partner, not yourself. "How's my lover doing?" should be the question. No matter who your partner is, a he or a she, your lover forever or for just the night. Concentrate on the other person. You'll find yourself enjoying it more.
Things seem to be loosening up in this country, but not quickly enough, it seems, for all of you who have written me. Sex is still a dirty word, and we, the sexual, feel oppressed. I only hope that putting these words to paper will help to break the antiquated standards that have perpetuated our oppression. The freedom of sexual experience should be like the freedom of speech. It isn't. I'm lucky: I'm able to be sexually free and also speak about it in graphic terms. But there are those who would like to put me in jail for what I do in bed, and those who will refuse to sell my books. They ban books in Boston, but I hear they go as far as to burn them in other cities. Maybe if we spread the word that making love isn't such a bad thing after all, it will even reach the ears of the book burners and all will be right with the world ...
But I'm not here to save or to educate the world. I'm only here to tell you what I think about making love. I don't think there is a right or wrong approach. A person's sexual preferences are as individual as the clothes he wears. If I'm wearing Levi's and someone else has on a tuxedo, I'm not going to feel guilty about it. Our appetites are personal, but I'm willing to share my own sexual "recipes" with you.
Parts of this book won't appeal to you, won't apply to you, but I've tried to cover as broad a spectrum as possible, for the spectrum of sexuality as I've experienced it is very broad indeed. Pick out the pages you think fit you, the chapters that interest you. This isn't a novel with a beginning, middle, and end. This isn't a story of any sort, although some anecdotes are included to make a point here and there. (Besides, I can't resist telling you some of the stories I left out of the first book.)
You will notice that I've gone into two sections in depth: "A Man and a Man"-whether you're bisexual or homosexual, this chapter is for you, because it is about one man making love to another; and "A Man and a Woman and a Man," which is written as much for women as it is for men. A great deal has been written about a man sleeping with two women, but the opposite has been ignored. Why shouldn't a woman go to bed with two men at the same time, two men who also participate in sex with each other?
I've not written a lot about two women making love, for I am not a woman. It's that simple. I've written as much as my experience has told me about two women having sex together, and for what it is worth, it is here. The rest of the book is devoted to getting it on with women-sometimes more than one at a time. I hope the total result will be to make you, my reader, a joyous bisexual lover, free of guilt and sexual prejudices.
During a talk show interview, I admitted I was part of the sexual revolution. "You're one of the founding fathers!" the hostess joked. If that's true, I couldn't be happier. It's a responsibility I'd enjoy.
I'm constantly exhilarated by people's reactions to me. I believe that most people are ready to listen. Even the ladies who quote the Bible to me in screeching tones are the first to pull a copy of The Happy Hustler out of their purse for me to autograph. After all, I think I've shown that in my promiscuous sex life I'm not hurting anyone, nor have I ever intentionally hurt anyone. Even an occasional bite, scratch, a spanking or two, harms no one if it's an act between two consenting adults. Is anyone being hurt? I don't think so. I do, however, believe that the repression of our individual sex drives can result in such things as rape, child molestation, even murder. Guilt drives the normal sexual appetite into a hunger to do something harmful. Guilt and repression.
I hope Making Love will help you in your love life and practice of sex, just as I hope it will get you out from under repression and guilt. All of us should come out of our sexual closets and not be afraid. There's safety in numbers.
And now, Making Love. As I said earlier, it began with the letters. "Letters, I get letters, I get stacks and stacks of letters ... " A housewife in Ohio wants to make it with her female neighbor; a young man in Nova Scotia wants to rim his girlfriend but he's not sure what it means. I'm dedicating this book to that housewife and that young man and all the hetero/homo/bisexually curious. Here are the best answers I can give to the questions you've asked.
PART ONE: A Man and a Woman
Chapter One: BELIEVING SEX is MARVELOUS
So many letters have arrived from people who ask me what I think causes their problems in the bedroom. They go on and on, telling me about their dull sex lives; a guy tells me he can barely get his cock hard any more because his wife is so uninteresting; a girl shares her frustration over never feeling anything, not reaching an orgasm, with the guy she loves ...
The specifics differ, but everyone is asking the same question, really. They don't want to know about positions and gadgets to improve and liven up their bedroom antics as much as they want to know what is wrong, on an emotional and spiritual level. They want to know why they can't perform, why the bedroom once excited them (usually in their dreams), and now it prohibits them and inhibits them, why they just don't get on much with their wife or husband or lover or partner any longer.
And so:
The problem, I think, with so many man/woman relationships (especially in marriage) is conditioning, back-ground, upbringing. America may be the land of the free, but it sure as hell isn't the land of the sexually free, although it's getting better. Instead of parades and all this hoopla about the Bicentennial, everyone should make love on July 4th. A mass orgasm, the whole country shooting their rocks off instead of their rockets. Let's get our cocks to explode, not Roman candles. Celebrate 200 years of sexual repression by fucking, preferably out in the open where the influence may rub off ...
That's getting past the point. What I started to say is that sex, when discussed at all, is often made to be something quite reverent. Oh, it can be. It can be religious in the sense that our bodies are holy, they're beautiful works of art, they're works of God. (So many ladies were fast to accuse me of being the devil's messenger on the talk shows I did this past year, of not believing in God; boy, are they wrong!) But there is reverent and there is reverent. The body is not a statue you kneel and pray to; it is a precious, wondrous thing that should be touched and held and caressed and embraced-body and soul. So often we're taught that the body is sacred and solemn-"You must be pure when you marry!"-and about as lifelike as a marble saint.
You'd be surprised (well, maybe not) how many couples go through life with this attitude. And, further, act as if sex and lovemaking were rituals to be performed in silence, like attending church. If you talk, it's a sin. Remember when you were a kid and you giggled in church and felt bad about it later on? How about the time you giggled when your lover's cock slipped out of you just at the moment of highest passion? Did you feel later that somehow you had sinned? Or did you stifle the giggle and keep up the NO TALKING rule?
Think about church. Think about the bedroom. Why do people confuse the two? Is it because preachers (as my father was) shouted, "YOUR BODIES ARE TEMPLES OF THE LORD!" (as he did)?
Did you ever have a dirty thought in church? I sure did. I got a hard-on many times during a boring sermon. I wanted to moan or laugh. I had the urge to whip out my cock and beat off. How about the bedroom? Ever have the urge to just reach over and slap your lover on the ass? He's asleep, say, and you are lying there in that temple, on those sheets, quite horny, staring at his strong body. His ass cheeks gleam in the moonlight coming in through the drapes. His head is nestled in his arms. You watch the rise and fall of his upper body, his luxurious breathing. Suddenly you get the uncontrollable urge to just reach over and kiss his ass. Really. Just stick your face between the cheeks and lick his ass.
Well, what's stopping you? The bedroom is not a church, and the bed is not an altar. And if you can't make the distinction clear, stop making love on the bed. Try the floor.
So many couples have made sex too important, too reverent, too private. They have not learned that, while at times it can be those things, it can be a casual pleasure also. Casual. That's the magic word. Casual pleasures are something you can talk about. How often do you talk about sex to your lover or husband? Say he's reading a book, lying on his stomach. You're horny and for about an hour your fingers have been lightly fingering your pussy. You're wet. He has no idea. He's very much into Allen Drury's latest novel. What about tapping him on the shoulder and telling him you'd like to kiss him? Okay, he'll open his lips and wait. How about telling him you want to kiss him somewhere else ... and then do it?
Think how much words can excite! Maybe "cock" turns you on. Maybe "cunt." Maybe "cocksucking." How about: "Take her breasts in your hands and slide your hard penis between them." Does that stimulate you at all? Words are the best possible means of communication. Why not communicate sexual feelings and thoughts and desires with words? Why is it so easy to say, "I like that new suit you bought," and yet so impossible to say, "I like your balls after you take a warm bath because they hang so low." We can compliment our partner on a fine meal, but how about a fine fucking? Why do you find it simple to say, "Oh, I love the feel of that new sweater," and yet find it difficult to tell her you love the feel of her pubic hair? Your husband makes terrific Bloody Marys so you say, "Frank, I love your Bloody Marys. I could drink them all night." Later you want to say, "Frank, I love the taste of your cum. I could drink it all night." But you don't.
SAY IT! Break the ice. Are you afraid your partner will blush and accuse you of having a foul mouth? Come on! He or she will welcome it-because they're thinking the exact same thing. But someone has got to have the guts to verbalize it first. It should be you.
I remember a woman, a lovely housewife in her thirties, who came to me one time. She'd had two children but her sex life was absolutely bleak, unsatisfying. Oh, she made love to her husband dutifully once or twice a week, but it was dull. She finally came to a hustler because she felt that she was doing something wrong and wanted to know what ... and she also felt that her husband wasn't a good lover. We made love and she was marvelous, but unfulfilled. It happened rather quickly. Then we sat on the bed and talked. She smoked a cigarette. She pulled the covers up to her chin. I asked her why she was covering her body-after all, I'd just fucked her. She had a great body. She told me she didn't think it was right for people to look at each other naked in the light, but admitted pornography (and even pictures of nude men in Playgirl) turned her on. I started talking about sex, about some crazy adventure I'd had, and she got turned on. I watched as the words "fuck" and "suck" made her wild with excitement. I could sense what was happening-she liked dirty words. She got off on them. Well, so did I (so do I), and before we knew it we were screwing all over the room, on the floor, in a chair, on the bed, but this time it was fulfilling because we were doing what excited us. We were talking dirty, filthy. Every time I slammed my cock into her lips I'd say something like, "Suck that prick, you beautiful cocksucker, suck it and feel my fucking balls ... " She had read countless "pornographic" novels, masturbating because the dirty words turned her on, but she never dreamed people did that in real life.
Eventually she stopped coming to me. Know why? Because after about three months she gathered the courage to say, one night, "Mel, will you fuck the shit outta me?" It shocked the shit outta him, but after he realized it also excited him, he did just what she wanted. She got him to talk as he made love, and I think it saved their marriage. She didn't need to come to a male prostitute any longer; she got her dirty words at home, with the man she loved.
You know whether words turn you on. You know right now, even if you've never muttered a word in that temple of the bedroom. Or the car or beach or wherever it is you have made love. The place suddenly becomes a cathedral once you start to fuck. Well, shatter the walls of that building by telling your lover you feel his cock inside you. Tell her you love feeling her hard nipples on the top of your tongue. See what it does for your excitement.
Maybe words don't turn you on. Fine. But be aware of your lover's needs. If you know your husband likes to be told he's got a big cock and that it satisfies you, tell him. If you love him, pleasing him is part of making love, and if words please him, use them. Maybe it's not even personal talk. Many people get off on dirty words, period. I've had women who want me to rattle off a litany of "fuck, shit, piss, cunt ... " as we ball. So why not? If it turns them on, I'm glad to do it. You should be, too. What you must remember is that your lover's excitement will be part of your excitement, and you must consider each other's needs.
How do you get to know each other's needs? You find out, and sometimes it isn't easy, especially if you treat the bedroom as a church and don't talk. If you do, go to confession there. Tell each other your sins. Tell each other your fantasies, your sexual fantasies. Afraid? Sure. If you are Catholic and can recall years past, remember the time you made your first confession? The knees knocked and you stuttered. You may find yourself doing that in the bedroom. It's natural. It's a big thing, traumatic, to tell someone, priest or lover, the inner secrets of your sexual soul. You don't have to tell all. There are some private dreams we shall never share with another person. So start out with the easy ones-"I really would like to try doing it doggie style sometime!"-and work up to the heavy stuff. Trust me and the experience I've had: you'll soon be not only talking about your wildest fantasies, you'll also be acting them out.
And remember its not only dirty words. It's tender words, words of affection and love. "I love you" is probably the most repeated phrase used in the bedroom, and it is a beautiful and meaningful one. But if that's all you say-saying it in place of all the other things you really want to say-it becomes trite and boring and rather meaningless. I mean, how many "I love you's" can you possibly utter without having to smirk at the ridiculousness of it all? You say "I love you!" in the heat of passion when you really mean "I'm coming!" Well, why not tell the truth and cut out the code? Your partner will appreciate honesty, your honesty, and in turn make him/her more honest.
Then there's the question of how a person can possibly tell a lover about changing positions so their orgasms will be better, if they don't know exactly what causes a good orgasm ...
Sex information and education. We lack it. When we do get it, often the information is wrong. And when we don't get it, the things we conjure up in our imagination are often misleading. Helen once told me, "I haven't met a woman yet who knew what a clitoris was when she was in high school." Well, hell, I didn't know what it was when she was telling me-so I asked. That's the thing to do. Ask. Ask questions. Ask your lover, your husband, your wife, your friends, your doctor. If you're a man and you don't know what a clitoris is and what an important part it plays in the sexual stimulation of a woman, ask your wife about it the next time you're making love. Ask her where it is, if you're not sure. Have her show you. Then finger it, tickle it, lick it, and watch her reaction. What if she doesn't know or isn't sure? Get a book; there are countless marriage "manuals" on the market today that not only tell you exactly what a clitoris is and what it does, but shows you in bold and brazen color. Look at some of the skin magazines. Often you'll see a hard clit between the very spread lips of the girl's pussy; See? You didn't even know you'd ever seen one!
Know your bodies. That's so important. Know your own and know your partner's. If you don't know about the clitoris, you may go through an affair-or even married life-without the woman experiencing an orgasm. And that is unthinkable, but all too probable. Some women never have orgasms. And they're just one step away. If they are able to understand what an important part that "little penis" of a clit plays in their sex lives, they teach their husband or lover the best way to stimulate them to orgasm. Fucking is boring if there is no stimulation. Women can and have fucked for years with no stimulation. And it is often not the man's fault; he thinks that because his penis is naturally stimulated by the friction of his movement, she's being stimulated too. Not so. If he can work his cock to rub her clitoris, only then will she really be physically stimulated. It may mean changing positions, sticking his fingers in there at the same time, using a French tickler, countless possibilities ... and he'll love it. Why? Because he'll see a response from her he's never known before. He's causing it! It'll drive him crazy, physically and emotionally. And the girl will be in heaven.
It's amazing the amount of mail I've received from young (and some not so young) housewives. They seem to confide their sexual problems to me because they have no one else to go to. The obvious person to whom they should go is their husband; how, after years of non-communication in the bedroom, do you start discussing the fact that sex together is not very interesting or stimulating? The following is a letter I received from a housewife in Michigan. She is twenty-seven years old, has been married four years, and is the mother of a two-year-old daughter. She still finds her husband (her high school sweetheart) sexually attractive, desirable. She desperately wants their lovemaking to be what it seemed to be in the beginning. But something is wrong:
"... and I think that what it comes down to is Greg and I were really unprepared for marriage. Our parents did the best they could, I guess. I mean it has to be hard for two people to tell their kids about sex when they were never told about it from their parents.
We learned from our friends. The girls would have pajama parties where we would talk about how boys looked undressed, and sometimes we would get so excited we'd sneak off to the bathroom and masturbate. But none of us ever did that very good because we really didn't know how. It wasn't until just recently, in a book much like yours, that I learned there are real techniques to female masturbation.
That's what started it all, the terrible periods of silence we've had with each other for the past two years, ever since Debbie was born. I opened the bathroom door one afternoon, not knowing Greg was even in the house, and there he was, sitting on the counter next to the sink, holding his prick in his hand. He was masturbating, looking at a picture of a naked girl he'd taken from Playboy or something. I was destroyed.
Then I went through terrible guilt that I wasn't pleasing him. I thought I was ugly. Or maybe I had lost my shape after having Debbie. I loathed myself. But then I turned on him, blaming him for being cold and unfeeling and not knowing how to love. What finally happened was that I looked through a copy of Penthouse, which he had under the bed, and started reading the letters to the editor. I was amazed at some of the positions and things people used to make their sex lives more interesting. I want to try these things! But I don't know how to approach Greg with it.
I know I can be a good lover. And I know Greg is. We made love while we were still in school and it was marvelous. We were experimenting, but there was excitement in that. Why can't we experiment now? All we do is he gets on and comes and gets off. I don't even know what it would be like to suck his cock, but I dream about it all the time.
What should I do? What should we do? I think we are both frustrated and it's crazy for two people who love each other to want sex but not enjoy it with each other. How long can Greg be happy masturbating in the bathroom? How long can my vibrator (which he doesn't know I have) satisfy me?
God, we just didn't know anything about sex when we got married. We knew how to screw and that was it. And that's still all we do. We both now know there is more to it, but we can't seem to let each other know. If you have a minute, give me a hint. You are so open and free and your sex life seems rampant but very uncomplicated. Why do we have these hang-ups? I get so mad when I think about not knowing about sex and being taught that it was something to feel guilty about ..."
This couple bas two problems. Not only were they unprepared for sex when they married (even though they had "gone all the way" while still in school), but now, even though they are anxious to try to make their sex life interesting, they can't seem to communicate that to one another. She says she is mad. I don't blame her; she should be furious. But there is no way of changing the past. We can't blame our parents for not telling us-perhaps they never really knew, themselves. But there is something we can do:
Bobby Kennedy said something once that I loved and have believed in ever since: "Don't get mad; get even." If you're upset because you weren't taught about sex, or because you weren't lucky enough to learn it is a beautiful thing, not something to be guilty about-what good will it do to be mad and stew about it? Why be frustrated? Get out and start making up for lost time.
Get even. Wipe all those years of frustration away by making your bedroom a playpen. Have fun there! What about the woman who wrote the letter-how can she, now, get even? Well, he's on the brink. All it takes is a little guts. There is the chance that it may not work. But what choice does she have? Remain a dried-up prune the rest of her life? She knows there is a world of sex she's never tried. She already has a vibrator and seems to find it more satisfying than Greg's prick at this point. Well, Greg should know about it. She should pull it out one night as they're fucking, quietly, not distracting him, and turn it on as she presses it to his ass. It'll shock him but the sensation of pleasure will soon take over and he'll find a new avenue of sexual stimulation he's never been down. What chance is she taking? The chance that he may hate it and toss it out of the window. But I think that chance is slight. I haven't met a man yet who doesn't like the feeling a purring vibrator gives him when pressed to his penis, when moved lightly over his balls, when nestled tightly between his ass cheeks (or, in many cases, up his ass).
Okay, toys aside for the moment. Penthouse is under the bed; let's assume the husband reads it. (I say that because I just don't believe men buy magazines of that type just for the pictures. I did a little survey myself before writing this book and asked countless guys what they liked best about Qui, Penthouse, Playboy, Hustler, Gallery, etc. The answer was always, "The letters and the pictures." With Qui, for example, it was "The Sex Tapes Column." Each magazine has a particular turn-on department, the writing that has to do with explicit sex, things that other readers try and find pleasing, etc. Now, if he reads it, he knows new positions, new ways of pleasing his wife, new ways of pleasing himself. He probably masturbates when reading about the couple who ball on the kitchen table or the guy who drinks wine from his wife's pussy or the girl who sucks her husband's cock with ice cubes in her mouth. Fantasies. He probably imagines himself and his wife in those positions. But they remain in his head-fantasies while the magazine sits under the bed as he and his wife dutifully, and with a large dose of ennui, screw each Friday night. When the kid is asleep.
There's just no reason for such suppression. I know a husband and wife-the guy works as a secretary for a large literary agency, and I've discussed sex with him many times while waiting to attend a meeting or something who sit in the bathtub together, facing each other, with bubbles all around, and actually read the letters in Penthouse aloud to each other. They get terribly turned on, and the session always ends in a wild and wonderful lovemaking session. Not always kinky or strange, not always having to do with the descriptions in the letters, but always interesting. Their sharing of what turns them on turns them on! They try things. Some don't work for one reason or another. But they're creative and experimental. If they both feel they want to try making love in ten feet of snow, they see what it's like. If they find they both nearly freeze to death, they will realize it isn't for them. But at least they try.
The young woman who wrote the letter has got to break the ice with her husband. It may be hard, for ice thickens in freezing temperatures, and it sounds as though their bedroom has been below zero for years now. A way to warm up: she could plan for him to find her lying on the bed, reading Penthouse, when he comes home from work. She might say, "My God, Greg, listen to this ... " He. will probably listen. Maybe that's enough for the first time. Later that night, after dinner, she should bring it up again. "I just can't get that out of my mind ... " Maybe he'll say, "Yeah, but wouldn't it be better if they ... " And then, when it's time for bed ... naked, under the covers ... she could whisper, "You know, Greg, when I was reading about that guy in the magazine, I kept thinking of you and your big cock ... and me ... " And before they know it, it will be happening.
I'm a great believer in "dirty" books and magazines. I wasn't always. My parents taught me such things were instruments of the devil, and even Kent's mother considered pornography one of the great evils of the world. Sure, she could come into my room and bounce around on my cock and scream hysterically about being in love with her son, but on the outside, on the surface, she had that strange double standard.
But dirty pictures always turned me on. They turn most people on, men and women. They can be a terrific help in revitalizing the bedroom. More and more magazines have gotten into things which just a few years ago were considered "back room" material only. For a buck, on the local newsstand, you can find photographs that would have cost you fifteen times as much not long ago. Lovers can look at those photos and try to duplicate the positions in their own lovemaking. Or they can use the photos merely for stimulation. It's a fascinating experience for a woman to watch her lover or husband open a magazine and get turned on by the photos in it. To watch his cock rise, as if it has some power of its own, a life of its own, and stand rigid and excited as some proud soldier. What's causing it? The pictures he's looking at, pictures of two beautiful people fucking. It's a wonderful diversion from regular sex for a girl to masturbate her lover or husband while he's looking at pictures that excite him. Or, better yet, to perform fellatio on him ... while he's looking at a photograph of a beautiful woman going down on a cock just like his own!
The same with the written word. The paperback books on the shelves in the supermarket are putting the sleazy "50'-to-enter" back rooms out of business. Honest, racy, sexy, sensual paperback books (and I hope this is one of them) can turn you on, give you hints and ideas you may not have had before, and add to your sex life. Sometimes it works to read a sexy story out loud (as my friend, the secretary, does) with a wife or lover. Or read a passage in a book and hand it to your partner and say, "That sounds hot. Wanna try it?"
It's a beginning. But all the books and pictures in the world won't help if, afterward, you feel guilty about it. In the heat of passion we all do impulsive things (thank God!), but often, when it's over, when the orgasm is gone and the penis is soft and the sheet is up over her breasts, we tend to think what we have just done is sinful and sick. We probably don't say that to each other, but we think it. We sleep facing the walls. We dress separately in the morning. God forbid if the guy wakes up with an erection; he'll lie there and be late for work just to get it down without his wife seeing it (a painful reminder of the depravity of the night before). The woman will probably sneak out of bed at the crack of dawn and be safely ensconced in bathrobe and kitchen when hubby wakes up. Or lovers-how often does one of the partners wake up to find a little note at the side of the bed, thanking them for a nice time and saying they just had to get up early and run?
Oh, the games we play. Wouldn't it be nice to wake up in the morning and see that tent made by hard cock and bed sheet and uncover it and take it into your mouth and get it to soften by bringing it to orgasm, thereby making him smile for the rest of the day? (He might make it the first day he actually liked his boss, or the first time he treated his employees like human beings.) Wouldn't it be terrific to find her lying there very naked and very beautiful and kiss her body from head to toe before you both get out of bed? The hell with breakfast; eat each other. You can get your Wheaties later.
Sometimes books can tell you how to do things. How is a young girl supposed to make love-pleasing, satisfying love-to her boyfriend or husband if she's never been told how to make love, never been taught what it's about? She knows what a penis and testicles look like, but how to handle them, how do they work, what makes him feel the best? So many questions in her young and very innocent mind. I know a girl who made a marvelous discovery when she watched her boyfriend masturbate. She was amazed and a little shocked at the beating he gave his penis. She couldn't quite believe it could take such abuse; till that time she had treated it as a precious and breakable object. He'd obviously become bored with her soft caresses. He showed her bow be liked it done. She watched him wrap his fist around his cock and slam it up and down. She thought it would break off or bleed. But instead it burst-cum splattered her face and she nearly bad an orgasm just from the simple fascination she felt in watching it. She also was shocked at the tender way he held his balls, as if they were indeed precious (they are!) and could easily be harmed (they can!). Some men are more sensitive than others, on all parts of their bodies. Some cocks can take more than others; some men love to have their balls pulled and twisted. With others you must be gentle. It depends on the man. The general rule is to go easy on the testicles, but remember a cock is strong, mighty. He'll guide you along.
We usually get some instruction about sex these days, but it is often in the form of a purely anatomical discussion. Schools and religious groups and, sometimes, even parents realize they have a duty to instruct the young-in such matters. They're eager to present the side of sex that's easy to tell-bow a baby is conceived, developed, and born. But what about how to make passionate love to a woman? The guy is supposed to find that out on his own (or instinctively know it, which is more unlikely). Sex is always stressed as a means to an end-how to conceive a baby. But what of sex for its own wonderful sake?
How do you find out? Does your biology class (even your marriage preparation class) tell you where to stroke him, how to hold his penis in your hands and vagina, how to vary it night after night so as not to get boring? Do the teachers tell you how to help him get his erection back if he loses it? Do they even mention an erection at all? Sometimes, with some classes in sex education, young people are led to believe that there is no need for the penis to be erect-and try sticking a soft cock into a girl and making it come. Can you picture a girl and her mother talking ... "Now, Penny, I want to tell you more about the facts of life. I think you should really know how to suck a cock. The best way is to practice on a banana ... " It just doesn't happen that way. (Well, in some cases it does, but they are far and few between and, sometimes, not even very healthy.)
Again, anyone can be blamed, everyone can be blamed, and no one can be blamed. Teachers would have been looking for new jobs had they told us about sex in such detail. Parents could not bring themselves to extol the joys of sex because then they would be pushing promiscuity, and they wanted their kids to be pure when they married, especially their girls. No parents wanted their daughter pregnant without a ring on her finger. No parents wanted their son to be the one who "knocked up" a local high school girl. If you had discovered sex was a great thing, what was going to stop you from doing it all the time before you got married? That's what the parents feared.
So many women have written to me to say that they are not interested in sex. But that really isn't true. They just don't know how wonderful it is. Why? They were brought up to resist boys' advances and, after they were married, they had no one to teach them how good it was or could be, how to go about it. So the laws of nature took over, and the wife spread her legs and the husband inserted his penis, and a child was produced and they could think of the kid and not about sex so much any more. I think it was easier for the man. He got natural pleasure out of fucking, even if he did it with no great skill or flair. His cock felt good in there, and he would come and roll over and sleep.
But what about the woman? She felt nothing. It was a duty, just like mopping the floors. It was a tradition. The man would use the woman, get his rocks off, and she would cross her fingers and hope he'd be satisfied for another week. It's a carry-over from the before-marriage days. The woman is still trying to remain pure. She's still fighting off the man, still filled with the ridiculous concept that, sex is dirty and being pure and chaste is where it's at. And since the girls were to remain pure and chaste and fight off the boys, what happened to the boys? They were depicted as monsters running around with hard-ons all the time. That's where we get the saying that men are animals when it comes to sex. Of course they're animals! An animal has to eat, has to have his appetite fed, and since boys weren't taught that they had to keep their legs closed and remain chaste and pure (strange double standard again), they seemed all the more ferocious about fucking. That kind of thinking becomes imbedded in the psyche and takes years and years to remove.
Even the natural or seemingly natural habits of high school and college years help, in sometimes subtle ways, to promote the animalistic male-chaste female illusion. "Locker room talk" was always supposed to be dirty. What about girls' dorm talk or bridge club talk? Men showered together and dressed together after sports, swam naked together. Girls were often separated. Guys got together with some beer for a beer bust and passed around the dirty pictures stolen from their fathers' collections. What did the girls have to pass around at pajama parties? Pictures of Bobby Darin and Sandra Dee on the beach. Stills of Troy Donahue and Connie Stevens from Parrish. (Playgirl and Viva haven't been around all that long, you know.)
I had sex with a girl once who had never seen a male nude before. She was very rich and had gone to a convent school and was now living in Chicago with a friend. She was shy and quite beautiful, but had had no sexual experience at all. Her friend knew someone who knew me, and finally we met. She liked me and decided she wanted me to be her first lover. I remember undressing in front of her. I knew it was shocking her, but I felt that was the best thing. I wasn't going to sneak under the covers and let her feel me entering her without her having seen what a cock looked like. Well, hell, I figured she knew what it looked like; it was just that she'd never seen a real live one before.
I was wrong. If she had seen pictures of one, she must not have looked closely. There's nothing like the real thing, they say. In this case it was terrifying. I wasn't even hard-about half-hard, I'd say. It was still hanging down between my legs. She gasped and tears came to her eyes and she began to shake. Her fear turned to fascination soon enough, but she kept saying, "I never knew it got so big ... I didn't know the head was bigger than the rest ... I didn't know it would stand out so ... I didn't think I could touch it like this and pull on it ... " She pulled and played for a long time before we actually made love. She was sure she couldn't take all of it, but she soon found out differently. I'm glad she warmed up to it so quickly' some girls might have been shell-shocked forever. While there is not the slightest bit of preparation, when there is complete ignorance of the body, your own as well as your partner's, then there is the chance for disaster.
It was something for her just to see me naked: What had she had to prepare her? Nothing. Something was always covered. Movies and television and pictures of bathers in the newspaper. Nothing to tell her what a man was really all about. Just because a girl sees Mark Spitz in his Olympic trunks and is aware of a bulge in the front, it doesn't mean she's ready to look at a naked guy with something like a small pole standing out from between his legs.
Parents keep their undies on with their kids around. If your father ever took a shower with you when you were a little boy, did he keep his shorts on or wear his swim trunks? Didn't you wonder why? Why you were standing there naked with your little diddle sticking out and he was all covered up? If you are a parent now, do you expose your genitals to your children? Do you, as a mother, tell your daughter she too will grow up to have breasts as you have? Do you, father, tell your son his penis will one day have hair surrounding it and it will be as thick and strong as yours?
Well, no one will blame you if you don't do that-but that attitude is changing. Your parents didn't know any better; did their parents go nude in front of them? They were probably lucky to catch a glimpse of bosom once every five years. We're in a sexual evolution and it has taken-and will take-time, lots of time. But maybe we, this generation, can help speed things along for the next. And the next.
Sex is a marvelous, wonderful part of life. It's healthy and exciting. And so is everything that goes with it-your naked body, for example. If children are taught that nudity is wrong, then how can they ever learn to make love while naked? If they do it, they'll feel uncomfortable and guilty at first, or they'll fuck forever with their clothes on.
To really believe sex is marvelous, you must believe that perversion does not exist. Nothing is-wrong, strange, forbidden, sick; none of those terms fit within the framework of making love. When two people love each other, they want to show it-and whatever way they show it is right and good and correct. The thing is to show it as much as possible, as often as possible. Sex between two people should be a joyous event. The whole concept of making love is based on that basic premise. It entails a great deal of honesty and openness, which is difficult at times, but reaps great rewards in the end.
Chapter Two: MAKING IT MORE EXCITING
They say men reach their sexual peak in their late teens and early twenties. It continues much beyond that, but this is the peak they talk about. The fallacy of thinking men lose their sexual interest in their thirties arises from the fact that most men find their thirties the hardest years of their lives. That's the time they're working their asses off to make a living, support a wife or lover, kids, even parents in some cases. Emotionally, psychologically, and physically, the man's fighting to stay alive. There are a lot of things to worry about. He becomes a homeowner, an awesome responsibility, and with that comes a mortgage and headaches. Insecurity is at its height because he is working so damned hard to get security. He comes home at night and falls asleep. He doesn't get an erection for days at a time. Who can blame him? The thing is to understand. Love him, have patience, make love quietly and romantically, don't force him to perform the acrobatics he was so good at when you married him. Understand him. Don't panic. Everyone goes through rough times in life, and often those periods are sexually dry. It will change. Never think it is your fault; and then again, don't blame him. You can blame society or the world or something like that but don't blame each other.
The problem of the thirties seems to be accented by the fact that women are supposed to come of age sexually in those years. And because most married couples are relatively the same age, a woman who's horny in her thirties and a man who's feeling dead at that time will have problems. But again, with love and understanding, you can work it out. What you have to do is face the facts and admit you have a problem. Don't get caught up in thinking you're the only one who doesn't like your sex life together. Don't think you're the only one not having any fun any more. Tell each other, be honest. It's not going to be easy, especially with someone you love. God, people write to me-the same way clients used to talk to me-and say, "I find it so easy to talk to you about sex, but not to my husband [or lover]." Sure, it's easier to talk to a prostitute, just as it's easy to talk to the butcher about the meat that should go into a certain recipe. A prostitute's business is sexual pleasure. But if he has any sense at all, he'll tell you to go home and talk to your partner. Running away, keeping silent about your dissatisfaction, is no way to cure a situation. And you love each other-I'm assuming that-and so there is every reason to want to make it better. Do you really understand one another?
Do you really know your partner's desires? Do you fulfill them? Does your partner fulfill yours? What's getting in the way? The old hang-ups from your childhood ... actual technique (lack of it) ... do you feel equal in sex? (It's sad but true that men often think women don't quite deserve the right to have sex when and where they want it simply because they're women, and the man is the dominant one, the aggressor. Thank God for some of the aspects of Women's Liberation-men must learn that women are equal partners in bed. Role-playing died with Eisenhower.)
Usually what happens-judging from letters I've received and stories I've been told-is that two people will have great sex for a while and then it gradually becomes boring. They love and respect each other, so they stay together and suffer through the dull bedroom motions. The guy starts thinking the girl is frigid or he stalls to doubt himself, thinking he's not a good lover any longer. The girl goes through the same doubts, wondering why sex used to go on for endless exquisite hours and now he slips it in, comes, rolls over, and goes to sleep. She starts to he to herself-sex doesn't mean all that much, it can't last forever, there are more important things. Like hell. If sex is so unimportant, why is it frustrating you so?
Silence is a killer. It's ridiculous, childish, dangerous. Talk to each other. Get your feelings out in the open. You'll be amazed to find you've been thinking the same thing. He'll say, "I thought you were frigid ... "
She: "I was beginning to think I was frigid, too!
He: "I've had all kinds of fantasies about what we could do in bed. You know, more than what we've been doing in the past ... "
She: "I've dreamed of sucking your cock. [He blushes.] But I didn't think you wanted that."
He: "Jesus, I can't believe you're saying this. You didn't think I wanted it? I beat off just thinking about you sucking my cock ... hey, you called it my cock! You've never called it by any name before."
She: "Beating off ... oh, I'd love to watch you do that. I've heard you doing it in the bathroom when you didn't think I could hear. I want to watch you reach an orgasm."
He: "When?"
She: "Now?"
He: "Ummmm. Yeah."
And so he takes off his clothes, holds his hard cock in his hands, and shows her what it is like for a man to masturbate. She watches, fascinated. She takes off her clothes at his urging and he asks her to masturbate, too. They watch each other closely. They both experience tremendous orgasms, maybe the best they've ever known.
The next time she fellates him, and finally he lets another desire surface-performing cunnilingus on her. And their sex life is once again rich and fulfilling and interesting. All it took was a little talking.
There's something to be said for "dirty" words-especially coming from people who don't often use them. Everyone has the desire to talk dirty sometime in their life, or at least the inclination to think dirty. Sometimes It s repressed, but usually the words "cock, cunt, fucking, sucking will pop into your head, and usually while making love. Why not verbalize them and get an extra charge? Take the housewife who's average, somewhat religious, has a family, etc. She can't walk around saying fuck all the time. So why not in bed? If she were to say, "Oh, I want Frank to fuck the hell out of me tonight!" at her sewing club, she'd stop the conversation dead and probably be thrown out. But if she were to say, to Frank himself, while in bed that night, "I want you to fuck the hell out of me tonight," he just might do it-and be even more excited because she verbalized it.
So, talking is one of the ways of making your sex life more fulfilling and exciting.
TALKING
If you're reaching down and feeling your lover's testicles, why don't you tell him how they feel? How they make you feel? Or ask him how your touch makes him feel? :'Jim, your balls feel so hot ... " Tell him they make you tingle, that feeling them makes you want to lick them-and then do it. Ask him if he likes what you're doing. He may tell you you're pressing too hard (that's something only he can tell you) and he wants you to rub him gently, to caress him more. Then he'll moan and tell you he's never felt anything like it before. How would you ever have known without asking?
Sometimes just the mere words can turn you on. Say you re in a sixty-nine position. The guy has the girl's pussy before him; she is resting her cheek on his hard penis. She should say "cock"-aloud, firmly, lovingly. She should stare at it and say it again. It can send an extra charge through both your bodies. He should tell her what he's thinking, looking at her pussy. Chances are he'll be enveloped with sensual feeling, and his mind will be on that beautiful cunt before his eyes. So, as he licks it and kisses it, he should tell her how it feels, how it tastes, how he likes it. Even just saying, "Your beautiful pussy ... " will add to the sexual enjoyment of the moment.
Talking is great foreplay. You're sitting on the floor by the coffee table after dinner, relaxing with a drink, listening to music. Talk about sex, if you're in the mood. Watch his cock rise in his pants. Tell him how it looks, if you can see the head through the material. Or tell him how terrible it is that it has to be stuck in there under that tight underwear. Take it out. Take it in your mouth. Suck him right there in the living room.
I remember one time I had dinner with a woman in Chicago. We were in a lovely restaurant, in a private booth where we could say just about anything. I had my leg up against hers and during the soup course, I told her I was getting a hard-on just feeling her. We talked about my cock for a while. Then, during the salad course, she told me her pussy was dripping. And all through the meal we told each other what we were going to do to one another once we got back to her place. It was amazing. It made the food more delicious, it made us hungry, it made us happy. By the time we walked out of there, I had nearly come in my pants from the incredible exciting talk, and when we got home it wasn't ten minutes before we both had incredible orgasms (on the floor of the hall, still with most of our clothes on). Words are wonderful things.
SEXY CLOTHES
Women know about sexy clothes. Walk by the window of any woman's store and feast your eyes on various creations' some almost get you to fall in love with the mannequin underneath. Most women know how to dress in a sensual way and how to use clothing to turn on a man. They especially know what undergarments to wear, how to slip out of them and use them teasingly.
And if women can wear sexy undergarments, why not men? Have you looked at the racks of men's underwear recently? Colors! New shapes and sizes! The white briefs have even been changed-now they're low-cut, fit a cock and balls the way a cock and balls should be fitted, and make you look sexy. Men's clothing was dull and uninteresting for decades. The young people started changing that in the Sixties, right along with the Beatles. And the trend has moved into all styles of men's clothing, and into all age groups. Granted, some guys don't have enough taste to know what looks good on them-is there anything more ridiculous than a short, seventy-year-old man in checked bellbottoms?
But what we're talking here is using clothes to add to your sexual aura. Try a tight pair of jeans, especially if you're not used to wearing jeans. Bleach them in the bathtub and wash them a few times and let your girl feast her eyes on you in them. Put on a colored T-shirt instead of the kind of shirt you wear to the office. Or go shirtless one night, wearing low-slung jeans that reveal some of your pubic hair. You'll look sexy-yes, Virginia, men can and do look sexy-and both you and your lover will turn on to it.
Buy yourself a long robe, one of those floor-length thick ones, and go naked under it. Sit on the sofa and let it open slightly. She'll see your naked thigh ... then your balls ... then your cock, which by that time will probably be hard because you'll be getting off on being an exhibitionist.
Strip for her. Yeah, a striptease. Just take your clothes off slowly, in full view of your partner. Open your zipper as though you were unlocking some treasure box (well, isn't it?). Spread your legs and let her feast her eyes on the thickness of your undershorts. Pull them down slowly. Turn around so she can only see your ass. Drop the shorts and then turn to her and let her eat you up with her eyes, taking your long hard cock into her imagination. And then jump into bed and fuck like crazy.
Experiment. Buy yourself a pair of bikini shorts. The nearly-see-through kind. Wear them one night and surprise her and see what kind of reaction you get. She'll probably find you're looking sexier then ever. If she likes white cotton shorts, get the new shaped briefs so she can see your pubic hair and the outline of your cock more easily. She may love your new undershorts so much she'll go down on you right through them, and to have someone sucking your cum out of your shorts is a great turn-on. If a woman feels sexy in sheer, skimpy underpants, why can't a man? I know some women who love to see guys in swimming trunks, tennis shorts (with nothing underneath), athletic supporters. Did you ever watch the chicks on a beach-they stare at guys' crotches. Take a look the next time if you don't believe me. I knew a woman who liked me to put on a football shirt and wear only a jock strap. She went crazy. She would play with my cock through the jock for a long time, and we'd end up having wonderful sex because she'd been so turned on. She used to lick my ass and snap the elastic straps of the jock (and they sting!).
A reminder: beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What is sexually appealing to one person is dull to another. Be the judge of what looks good on yourself-don't hold back, however; if you want to see what you'll look like in sexy underpants, try a pair and see, even though you're worried they're just not made for you-and also give some thought to what your partner thinks is sexy. Ask her to buy you a pair of underpants that she thinks is very erotic. That's one way of finding out what turns her on. Look in magazines and have her tell you which models are sexy, and notice the clothes they're wearing. As I said before, be aware of your body and the sensual aura surrounding you; judge your clothing accordingly, and wear things that help accent your inherent sexuality.
MASSAGES AND BACKRUBS
Hands, fingers, even feet. Use them, sensually. Use lotions and creams. A wonderful way for a man to stimulate a woman (and I've done this often, it's as great a charge for the guy as it is for the woman) is to give her a backrub with his cock. Start off by rubbing a soft lotion over her back, massaging as you do in a regular backrub. Then straddle her and start to rub your cock over her smooth skin. Bring it up to her shoulders and slide it against her neck so she can feel the hardness of your penis on her chin. It will drive her crazy.
Which leads us to a famous sexual technique ...
AROUND THE WORLD
This isn't offered by the airlines, but it's still a great package deal. I may be wrong, but I think that Xaviera Hollander first put the expression into a book. Around the world is a trip, a trip on a body. It usually refers to a woman acting on a man. But a man could easily go around the world on a woman, or another man, or a woman with a woman, so it isn't limited to one kind of sexual contact; however, let's think of it in straight terms for now. (You've got an imagination; translate it into your own sexual terms.)
Going around the world is a pretty special technique, and it's not one you'll want to use on the first date. You'll scare the poor guy away. You should be fairly sure he's ready for it, meaning he's liberated enough to take what you're going to give. You don't want him to get uptight or embarrassed; this is a kind of massage, the ultimate massage, and he has to be thoroughly relaxed and ready. Warm him up, give him what he needs, soft sex talk, a hot bath, some grass, a drink-hell, a teddy bear, if that's his trip. Whenever I read about going around the world, cleanliness is always mentioned. That's up to you. I guess most everybody likes to be clean, and likes their partners to be clean. We live in an age of daily hair washing and underarm sprays and colognes for every inch of the body. (Guys: remember the male crotch sprays of a few years ago, the stuff that nearly burned your balls off?) I like to shower each day, and I love to run my fingers through sparkling hair and sniff the scent of Cardin or Aliage. There have been times in the past, especially when I was hustling in California (not the big time, remember), when I suddenly was revolted to find a rear end that hadn't been wiped in days. Well, that's exaggerating a bit, but you get the idea ...
Natural body smells can be exciting. What's wrong with a little perspiration (otherwise known as sweat)? It's normal, it's natural. I'm not talking about oppressive odors, smelling as though you've been locked in the locker room for a month. I'm just saying that sometimes it's okay even desirable-to make love without having to scrub first. It isn't major surgery you're going to perform, it's lovemaking. Making love is natural, and so is your body and the perspiration it produces. You decide; it's up to you. I just think that making your lover shower directly before sex each time is bound to take some of the excitement and anticipation out of it. As a hustler or a hooker, you almost have to demand that the trick is clean-you don't want diseases, you don't know the person. But we're talking here about making love, and that's a different story.
A trip around the world is like a body massage, one that goes around the whole body. But the difference lies in that it is done mainly with the mouth, with the lips and teeth and tongue, the hands being used only for added stimulation. A body massage is firm and reaches the muscles. A trip around the world is light and teasing, soft and subtle, and it reaches the sensitive nerve endings in the skin, especially in the erogenous areas.
What are his erogenous areas? Find out by going around the world. They differ from person to person. Oh, sure, every guy gets turned on when you tickle his balls, when you rub the head of his cock, when you press your finger between his buttocks ... but how about his nipples? A guy has nipples just like a girl; why shouldn't they be caressed and sucked and loved? Why shouldn't he get pleasure from it? Try a finger. A plain old finger. Take it into your lips slowly, lovingly. Suck on the tip for a moment, then take more, wrapping your tongue around it. Get it good and wet and start giving it a blow job, really suck on his finger as though it were his cock. Often, he'll come near a climax because he transfers the feeling, the thought, to his penis, and freaks out on the fact that you're only doing it to his finger and yet he's deriving so much pleasure from it. One man will get a hard-on if you caress his belly button with your tongue, while another will get turned on when you kiss his armpits. Everyone's different; feel him out and learn the land.
Start out with the guy lying comfortably on his back, in any position he chooses (legs open or closed, arms close to his body or up over his head). Tell him to close his eyes and relax. Soft music will help. If you're outside, tell him to listen to the wind, to feel the sun, whatever. Get him to just go with the pleasure he's going to be feeling. Take your time.
Kiss him lightly on the lips. and run your fingers over his arms and into his hands, and squeeze a little, to reassure him as he takes off on this wonderful mind and body trip. Then go down and kiss the tip of his cock, gently. That's all, just kiss it. Don't worry if it's soft or hard or in between. By the time you're done, he'll be ready for an incredible climax.
Go back up to his lips. Kiss him again and slide your tongue over his chin. Suck on it a bit, as though it is a gigantic cock. If he has a beard, pull the hairs between your teeth, but not enough to hurt him-remember, that's his face under there. Then go to his ears, taking your time on each one, kissing them, licking them, sucking on them, and blowing into them. If he responds-moaning, moving his hips on the floor, his cock standing straight up, keep doing it, more and more. Fuck his ear with your tongue. Fill it full of saliva and suck it all out. Kiss his mouth again and put your fingers into his ears and move them around. Reach up and run your hands through his hair, pulling it gently, massaging his temples slightly. If you're naked, let your body slightly touch his in the best places. Let your breasts slide over his body. Let him feel your nipples caressing him as your tongue is doing. (If you're a male, do the same with your cock, let it touch his chest and his thighs and his hair-run your cock through his hair-and all down ills thighs.) Lick his shoulders and his chest and take his nipples into his mouth and make love to them as though they're your own. While you're doing that, run your fingertips down and slightly touch his cock and balls, just enough to send a tingle through his body.
Work down. Kiss his navel, lick his hips. If he has thick hair leading down to his cock, wrap your tongue in it, work your teeth through it. Don't take his cock in your mouth yet-save it for last, for the climax. Work around his cock. Dig your nose into the hair in his crotch, smother your face down under his balls, lick the insides of his thighs, and lick the hard cleft under his balls and above his anus-it's usually the most sensitive part of his body (and usually the most untouched). Now leave his cock. He'll be wanting you to suck it now, but don't give in. Go down his legs, to his feet, and suck his toes. If you've never done this, close your eyes and try. You'll get off on it, too. Put his toes into your mouth and suck them and watch how he goes crazy. If he's ticklish, run your tongue down the inside of the bottom of his foot. He'll be wild.
Then turn him over and have him spread his legs. If he feels like Jell-O by now, fine. Roll him over yourself and just grab hold of his legs and spread them until you see his balls lying there between his thighs, under his ass cheeks. Start down at his feet, coming up the back way. Kiss and lick behind his knees. Slide your tongue over his buttocks as though you're licking a sheet of postage stamps at once. Tease him with your tongue, but don't let it slide between his ass cheeks; save it for last. Drive him crazy with anticipation of your sucking his asshole, of your tongue sliding up into him. Lick his balls a bit, and then go up above his ass and start sliding up his back. Massage it slightly with your fingertips as you move to his neck. Rub his shoulders and bury your face into the nape of his neck, licking his ears again, biting slightly on his shoulders. Force his arms up high and lick underneath. Suck his armpits; pull the hair into your mouth. Run your tongue up his arms and suck his fingers again.
Start back down again, taking your time. He'll feel you getting near his asshole and he'll be dying for it ... he will spread his legs ... his cock will be pushing into the bed or floor or grass ... he'll be shaking with pleasure. So let him have it, but don't forget to do it lightly and tease as much as possible. That's what around the world is all about, a trip that never stops until the final destination, and that's at his beautiful cock, that's getting all his cum.
So go back down to his buttocks and kiss them, lick them, wet them, and slide your fingers around on them. Kiss his asshole slightly, letting your tongue just flick against the opening. Go down to his balls and try to get them both into your mouth at the same time. I haven't met a pair of balls yet that I haven't been able to get into my mouth. When they're soft and hanging low, they are very pliable, and it's a great feeling for a guy to feel lips closing around his scrotum, knowing his nuts are in his partner's mouth.
Get them in your mouth and make them hot with saliva. Suck on them a little. Rub your nose into his asshole, and reach up and under his hips and feel his cock. Be the judge of this: you can pull his cock down to lie flat between his legs, but some guys can't have this done. It just depends on how hard and at what angle to the body his cock stands when he's excited. Some can be pulled down, around, and up to the ass.
If his cock comes down to rest between his legs, hold his balls up and lick the cock gently with your tongue. The head of his cock will be facing you, the slit in the tip will be there for you to look at and kiss. And be sure to kiss it and run your tongue into it. Then drop his balls and take long licks, big wet ones, that include both his cock and his balls. If you think he's going to come, hold off for a moment, and just rub his hands or his shoulders or his sides or his thighs, to get his mind off the impending orgasm.
Then go back up to his asshole. Now's the time to really let him have it. If his cock is still between his legs, you can rub it with one hand or with your knee or your breasts, but be careful-you don't want him to come yet. Spread his anus and hold your head above it and let saliva run from your lips and dribble right into it. He'll love it. Then smooth it around with your tongue. And then press your face between his cheeks and make love to his asshole. Do as much as you think is right, fucking him with your tongue or just sucking and kissing him there. He'll probably be ready to come ...
Now, he's been around the world and he's ready to shoot. You can just put your mouth down there on his cock without turning him over, keeping a finger moving in or on his ass, feeling his balls shuddering as they pound out their pent-up cream. It's a great way for a guy to come (I know, I've come like that many times!), and he'll pound his fists into the floor and let out a yell, because he can't see what's happening, he can only feel it, and the turn-on is incredible. He'll kick his legs and, spread them as wide as possible as you suck all the cum out of his body from behind.
Another way, of course, is to turn him over quickly, go down on his cock and take him. But there are variations-turn him over and lick his balls and watch him shoot without you even touching his cock. Let it hit his chin and his chest and then go up and lick all the jism off his body and suck his shrinking cock. Or grasp his cock in your warm hands and put a finger over the tip and watch the cum as it cascades down your fist. Lick it all up from his cock as if you're holding an ice cream cone. Let him watch if he wants. He'll go crazy. Or, if you don't want it orally, when you turn him over, quickly sit down on his throbbing dick and let him fill you with cum, either in your pussy or your ass, whichever you prefer. Or press his cock between your breasts and feel his cream warm your chest. Anyway you want it is fine here; the important thing is leading up to it, and a trip around the world should be slow, leisurely, tingling, and enjoyable. It's a playful act, however exciting, and remember there often will be some giggles. Enjoy them and make them part of your sexuality of the moment.
Take a trip around the world for me. I think you'll be glad you did.
MORE BACKRUBS
A woman giving a man a backrub has special equipment for turning him on-her breasts. She can rub him with her breasts as though they're hands. She can also take him around the world with her breasts alone, without using her mouth at all. Simply let your nipples slide over his body, slowly and lovingly and-more than anything-teasingly. A man goes crazy watching and feeling a hard nipple sliding up his cock, moving over his balls, or tickling between his ass cheeks. He loves to feel a woman pressing her breasts to his shoulders, to his neck, and seeing each nipple on either side of his face. He loves to feel a woman's breasts down between his legs, pressing between his thighs, rubbing his scrotum. End each backrub by placing his penis between your breasts and moving it up and down. You can move your breasts or hold still and let his hips move, as though he's fucking you there. Let him come in that position. He can watch the magic of his cock spurting between your luscious tits, seeing it hit your chin, running down your nipples. He'll love you all the more for it, and you'll love it too. (I know-so many women I've had have told me this turns them on as much as fucking.)
BATHING
While cleanliness, is not, as I say elsewhere in this book, always the most desirable state for passionate sex, bathing can be a turn-on. I'm talking about bathing for sensuality. Shower together. Soap her pussy and slide a finger in. As the spray of water rinses his cock, kneel down and take it in your mouth and feel the water hitting your face as you touch the tip of his organ with your tongue. Cover your bodies with soap (turn off the water for a minute) and kiss and move together, slide against each other in the foam. Have fun. If he has one of those popular soaps-on-a-rope (Brut, Aramis, and Kanan make great ones), hang the rope on his hard cock, and just use it from there to soap his body. He'll love it. Turn the hot water off and give yourselves a blast of cold-just for the hell of it. The tingle will tighten you up-breasts will harden, balls will contract-and the warmth of each other's bodies will be all the more appreciated. Or turn the water on as hot as you can stand it. It's great for passion. If you have a tub big enough, fill it with a generous amount of water and a more generous amount of bath oil-slip and slide into each other. Or, if you're taking a shower, wet your bodies and then shut off the water. Take a bottle of bath oil and douse yourselves with it. Fuck with it. Do everything you can with it. Then rinse off, and not only will you have had an incredible few minutes of lovemaking, you'll have the softest skin in town.
TEXTURES
Getting the feel of things-doesn't it make a difference? Wouldn't you like something else under your ass than those damn cotton sheets every night? And you can't afford satin sheets (or can't stand how cold they feel)? Okay, do it on the floor. On the carpeting. Like the shag? Does it feel good, tickling your ass? Isn't it nice that you can be acrobatic and don't have to worry about falling out of bed? You've sucked his cock before, but never when he was standing up-well, sure, you may have knee burns the next day, but isn't it worth it just to see him standing there with his cock looming above your face? And isn't the position of kneeling before him stimulating? (It is for him!)
I remember a time, when I was working in New York, that I was sent to a woman's house on Long Island. We had a gracious meal and finally took each other's clothes off on the sofa in the living room. She asked me if I wanted to "go to bed." I took her literally, but she was asking if I were ready to have sex with her. Of course, I was, I had been since the moment I'd set eyes on her. So we got up, and she surprised me, when we went upstairs, by going into the large, spacious bathroom. She wanted to make love on the floor. Well, that's terrific, and I've done it-in some very strange bathrooms, too, let me add. But I was feeling particularly romantic that night-making love as opposed to just having sex-and the bathroom floor didn't seem to be the right place for where my head was at. And it would be cold (hell, it was winter).
The surprise was on me. The house had radiant heat, meaning all the floors had coils with hot water in them. The bathroom floor was warm, toasty warm, and there was something exciting about fucking and kissing and making love on those porcelain tiles.
There are other places-in fact, you can make love anywhere, provided you don't get caught. I'm talking about the corner of State and Madison in the Loop or outside the County Courthouse in Jackson, Wyoming. Love is always with us, and passion can strike any moment-I've done it in phone booths with people I've been nuts about.
But it's the textures of different places, I think, that really make the difference. I love beaches, probably because I love sand and the way it shapes to fit your body. It gets gritty and some people don't like that, but I think the added friction can be exciting. A furry rug is fantastic, especially in the winter in front of a blazing fire. How about in the snow? Do it with your clothes on-just open your pants, both of you. It works, believe me. And you'll probably be so hot, you'll melt the snow under you.
Outdoors, my favorite spot. The greatest moment of lovemaking I ever spent with a girl was outdoors, with Shelley. There is something so natural and wonderful about feeling the wind on your body, the sun on your shoulders, on your ass, to stand up, joined together, and feel the breeze blowing through your legs. Grass makes the best bed in the world, high, thick green grass. A great place to make love-texture-wise and scent-wise-is in a pile of newly mowed grass. If you live in the suburbs and you have a big yard, don't throw all that wonderful spongy green stuff into the trash cans-pile it up in some secluded corner or the yard and use it as a bed. If your neighbors can see it, wait until only the stars in the sky can see you. Roll in it completely naked. Smell its fresh, dewy scent. Make love in it, press your cock into it, press your breasts into it. It's a trip.
GADGETS
You want to know the best new gadget on the market? The shower massager. It does marvelous things to your senses, and is capable of turning you on alone, as well as with another person. The possibilities it presents are endless. You can turn it to a slow massage and the water hits your body with stimulating rushes. Use one, and feel it as you make love under it, feel the water hitting your cock, feel it hitting your pussy. There are hand-held models which can be aimed directly where you want them. All the girl has to do is stand and close her eyes, spreading her legs slightly. Then the guy takes the massager, turns on the regular spray, and wets and warms her body. Then he turns it to slow massage and presses it to her breasts-in a moment the nipples are hard. Then he comes down her body, moving to her pussy, and aims the spray between her legs. The rhythmic pulsation shots of water will feel better than a vibrator, and she will probably reach down and spread her pussy so she can feel the stimulation as far inside her as possible.
Same with the guy. His cock will be soft when it begins, but by the time the water is hitting his balls with the solid. but gentle force-it feels like thousands of little fingertips-his cock will be hard, and by aiming it correctly you can bring him to an orgasm just with the water.
All the models have a fast/hard feature, too, but you have to be careful on the genitals-it can hurt. It's great on your back (while fucking, it's just wonderful) because it relaxes you and takes away all the tension, and when you direct it to your ass it feels as though a hundred tiny mouths are biting you. Last Christmas, a friend gave me the Shower Massager by Aqua-Pic, and I swear by it. (And my friends like it a lot, too!)
Vibrators are of course a necessity when talking about gadgets that enhance making love. They can be shoved anywhere, before or during intercourse. They can be used to stimulate the guy or the girl or both at the same time; they come in a variety of sizes, so there's no problem with fit.
Dildos are fine sex toys and a lot of fun if that's your thing, and sometimes they come with built-in vibrators making them give double the pleasure. Again, they can turn on men as well as women, and some guys get very turned on watching their wives or girl friends masturbating with a big rubber cock.
CRAZY TIMES/CRAZY PLACES
She: Cooking dinner, watching the pork chops so they don't burn, hair in rollers, dressed in housework clothes, bedroom slippers.
He: Walks in, takes off his coat, loosens his tie, walks to her, opens his fly, takes out his cock, kisses her, opens her slacks, pushes them down, slides his cock right into her as the pork chops sizzle.
She: No longer gives a damn whether the pork chops burn.
There are crazy times and crazy places to have sex, and they're best not planned. I didn't plan to have sex in a phone booth. I was horny and there was no place to go.
The best policy is to fuck when you feel like it. You don't always agree with your mate on time or place, but if you love each other it isn't hard to get into it no matter what you're doing. Once, I walked into the laundry room in a building where I lived to find a guy screwing the hell out of his wife right there on top or the Maytag. (The vibration of the machine added to the excitement.) Another time I had a phone conversation with a woman-it was basically a business call; she was giving me some financial advice-and she sounded calm at first and then rather distant, and then she finally sounded faint. The next day she told me what she couldn't tell me the night before-her husband had been eating her throughout the conversation and they were both especially turned on because the caller (me) didn't know anything about what was happening. It's a kind of exhibitionism that is very healthy and damned exciting. So the next time the phone rings while you're making love, don't stop and groan and curse the thing-answer it and continue fucking, as though you're just lying in bed doing nothing and feel like talking. It can be terrific.
Your boyfriend is fixing his car in the garage, bending over the engine. He's tired and sweaty and in a bad mood. Go put your hands around his waist and open his pants. Tug them down and kiss his ass. Turn him around and take his cock in your mouth, while he's still standing there with his hands in his work gloves, holding a distributor cap against his chest.
Do it in the swimming pool. If you have your own, fine. If you share it with thirty other people in your apartment complex, sneak out there in the early morning hours. Or, better yet (and probably more exciting), do it while some people are around the pool. You have to be subtle, and you can't let out a shout when you reach a climax. All you have to do is slide your swimming trunks down, pull her bikini, and slip it in. All under water.
Making love on a diving board can be fun because of the precariousness of the situation, and the water, especially at night, is beautiful beneath you. But be careful. When I did it once, just before I came, we rolled off into the water and my semen went flying into the air, which was not where I'd meant it to go.
Anyway, it's all in the head. Being in an unusual place is only exciting because it's not the normal place to make love. The stimulation is in your mind, it's emotional, the exotic becomes erotic. Textures and climates and wind are all factors, physical factors which increase and enhance stimulation, but the excitement is inside you. Part of the attraction to shoplifting, I gather, is the chance that you may be caught-the excitement that comes from doing something against the law or against the norm. Same thing with making love. Not all the time, for you can make love in your quiet bedroom a thousand times and it will be as good as going out on the roof to do it. But if that "chanciness" turns you on; if being where you're not supposed to be while fucking excites you, then it's something you should damn well do. Now, don't run out and fuck your brains out at noon on the steps of the White House. (Well, that could be funny ... ) But if being daring turns you on, be daring.
Chapter Three: PLEASING EACH OTHER
Sex books can only give suggestions, can only provide inspiration for the real thing. They can offer techniques, but they, too, are explained merely to encourage you to try your own version. No two people are built alike, and every sex technique will be altered slightly by the people who are using it.
Bed is the place to join your souls into one, but it is also the place to have fun and act out the fantasies you've dreamed about. Nancy Friday's My Secret Garden and Forbidden Flowers covered broad areas of female fantasy, and Tom Anicar, in Secret Sex-Male Erotic Fantasies, has shared with us the secret sexual fantasies of thousands of men. We all have fantasies; some are dear to us and will never be told, and that is right and good. We all need private dreams. But some are longing to get out, some are merely desires that we are afraid to let surface-the bedroom is the place to let them happen. I don't mean bedroom and the word "bed" literally; a bed is wherever you choose to make love.
I think people really get screwed up by thinking there are only one or two sexual techniques or paths open to them. Intercourse is the first, and sometimes the only way some people have sex. But there are those daring folk who have discovered oral sex and practice that regularly (but maybe not very excitingly). What happens after a time? Heavy worry, heavy anxiety. Alex Comfort's The Joy of Sex made clear that what is missing in the "new sexuality" is the unashamed ability to use sex as play.
We have to stop fearing other people's taboos and stop thinking in clich's about sex. We have to get over the notion that the man is the performer and the woman his helper, like a magician who happens to use a pretty girl in his act (just to saw her in half). Male skill is emphasized again and again-what about female skill? I know some women who'd put men to shame just in their enthusiasm and ability for bedroom antics. It starts when we're young, especially in the locker room. The man is the performer in bed just as he's the performer out there on the field or the court (this was before the world discovered Billie Jean King). That's plain and pure bullshit. "I came seven times last night," one of the jocks boasts. Wonderful. But it doesn't matter if he came seven hundred times you don't measure masculinity and sexuality by the number of orgasms you can have in a single evening. Nor do you measure sexuality by the amount of sperm you produce. Nor by the size of your cock or how often you get a hard-on. Impotency is most often caused by anxiety and fear. A guy grows up thinking he has to perform, it's his duty, it's what makes him a man. Then one day-not remembering he's tired, maybe drunk, maybe just not in the mood-he can't get it up. He worries himself sick, is embarrassed and continues to worry right up until the next time he has sex. And then, at the big moment, when his pants are off and she's ready for it, he worries even more-and nothing happens. If he'd relax and not give a damn about whether or not his cock is going to get hard, he'd be fine. But that emphasis on performance is there, conditioned. And it can destroy a man.
It's so important for a guy not to worry himself into impotency if he's not always able to get it up. He mustn't feel he's failed his lover or himself. He has to know that all bodies are not perfect and just as there are days when you can't seem to focus your eyes, say the right words, walk without tripping, there are days when your cock isn't going to get hard. What he has to know is that there are other ways of pleasing a woman, and if he can't get it up that time, he should start using his mouth-she'll be just as pleased.
It's a great fallacy to think that sensuality is only in the genital organs. Cock, cock, cock. That's all you hear in the locker room. And cunt, cunt, cunt. How about Just under the balls? Between a woman's breasts? A person's whole body is an erogenous zone,-and it's also a genital organ. Sensuality comes from inside, not from the tip of a cock or deep within a vagina. Sex is about more than sizes and shapes; it's all about needs and expression and repressing and sharing and opening up. It's also about love and tenderness, and tenderness isn't a skill or a technique. No one can teach a person to be tender. It comes from the heart.
I think most people tend to play it safe with sex; they hold back, thinking if they really let out their desires they will find rejection and pain. Well, you have to take that chance. But if your partner really loves you, he or she will understand your needs, your desires, and do everything possible to give you the pleasure you so richly need and deserve. Why do you deserve pleasure? Just because you're a person. We all deserve to be happy, and each of our happiness is (or should be) sexual, for sexuality is high on the list of human needs, high on the list of the pleasures of life. There are many who will say sexuality is the highest of pleasures we shall ever experience in our lifetime.
It's a sad thing when a love affair, a relationship, goes to hell because there's no sensual communication. Often that's why men and women visit prostitutes. They're running away from a relationship or marriage that has gone dry sexually. I don't want to put fellow hustlers and .hookers out of business, but I'd like to see people going to prostitutes more for the diversion of it, for the fun of it, than because they have a lousy sex life with their partner. If only we could remove that guilt that's been built up for ages, that fear, that oppression, that silly notion that admitting-to sexual needs is perverse. We cut ourselves off from so much experience when we limit our lovemaking to a mere few minutes of intercourse. Why not try everything, at least once. If something isn't for you or your partner, what have you lost? Okay, so maybe you have a sore back, an aching cock, a painful pussy, and the feeling of having wasted a night. I can think of a lot worse things that could happen to you, all coming from nonsexual experimentation. Sex is safe. Lovemaking is safe, it's easy, it's wonderful.
So let's talk about lovemaking-ladies first ...
CUNNILINGUS
I think some men are afraid of a woman's pussy. There's that high school, locker room talk about "getting a blow job," but never anything about "eating her." If it is said, it's usually in a derogatory sense ("You went out with that pig? Bet she made you eat her box, huh?"). Oral sex often means only cocksucking and nothing beyond that. In fact when oral sex is mentioned, in the locker room or at the neighborhood bar, we generally think of the penis being sucked. What, then, of cunnilingus? Is it something they write about in books that doesn't really happen in life?
No, not at all. But most men don't know the first thing about it. In the past few years, with all the emphasis on the clitoris and clitoral orgasm, men have finally learned just what that little hard nub is inside a woman, and they've found out that it stimulates a woman. Have they really touched one? Maybe, but maybe not. I've met many guys who aren't sure just where the clitoris is and what it feels like, although they've been fucking women for years (and some of them performing cunnilingus too).
Maybe men are afraid of a human being with two mouths. Isn't that what a pussy is? A kid I knew was frightened to death of women. He wasn't homosexual; he wasn't anything. He beat off and lived a sex life in his fantasies, a life of secret sex. I got into a heavy discussion with him one day when he was feeling particularly mellow, and he admitted to me "the thought of coming face to face with a cunt scares the shit outta me." It was, in his mind, overwhelming, like a giant shark ready to swallow him up. He had had a dream in which he inserted his penis into a vagina and it ate it up. Recalling the first color picture he'd seen of a woman's pussy, he said he felt it looked like a gash inflicted by some terrible accident; he was sure of it when he remembered that it bled regularly.
A cunt can be an awesome sight, but it doesn't have to be frightening. It isn't castrating; the penis always comes back out. It isn't a gash, a cut in the skin, but a finely molded part of the body which has a kind of magic all its own. The vulva has an odor all its own, varying slightly from woman to woman, and you have to take the time to sniff it, to know it, and to love it. The labia is of different size and texture from woman to woman. The lips are more like folds of skin, and forcing them open with I your fingertips is a marvelous experience, no matter how many times you've done it. The clitoris is like a tiny penis, hard, easy to stimulate, pleasure-producing. Even the pubic hair surrounding the vulva is different from a man's usually softer, not quite as wiry, in a V shape rather than running up the belly in a diamond shape, as the man's does.
I remember I first really got a good look at a cunt while watching a girl masturbate. Helen, the madam I first worked for, had a girl lover who was blond and beautiful (well, she's had a lot of them, but this was the first one I recall), and one afternoon she invited me into her beautiful bedroom to let me watch what she liked to watch-the girl masturbate.
Helen sat there, her stubby fingers curled together, smiling in delight. She said, "Now watch close, Tracy. Learn from this. You have to get to know a woman's body and how to make her happy, and the best way to do it is by watching a woman make herself happy." Then she laughed and said, "Thank God not all women know how to masturbate, or there'd be no need for you studs." I watched. The pretty girl spread her legs, lying on her back before us on the bed, spreading her pussy lips with her delicate fingers. I was fascinated because she took so much time. Whenever I had masturbated, it had been rather quick-a few good pulls on my cock and presto, I shot off and that was that. But she was savoring it, learning how to make it last (and I learned to do that myself not long after. I saw the lips parting and the moistness already there. I knew that to fuck a guy you usually had to provide some saliva or lubrication of some sort. But with the girl there is a natural wetness. A pussy is moist, and the more excited a woman gets, the wetter it gets. The porno books are wrong. Women don't come like men, and" ... flooded his cock with a torrent of her burning cunt juice ... " is an unrealistic phrase. A pussy is made to be entered; so it provides natural lubrication for the act.
I sat there with a hard-on sticking through my jeans. Helen snorted, "Take that thing out and have a good time, kid. That's what it's for." So I whipped out my cock and beat off-slowly-as I watched the girl masturbate. I knew right then and there that watching another person masturbate was one of the best ways of learning how to please them as a partner, and of overcoming any fears you might have about not knowing your partner's body and how to really stimulate her/him. A man's fear of a woman's pussy can be greatly decreased if he watches her masturbate.
Which brings us to:
MASTURBATING EACH OTHER
A man is usually an expert at masturbating himself; after all, he's been doing it most of his life. But a woman can learn to do him as well, or nearly as well. She must first of all take pleasure in giving him pleasure, and put her mind into what she's doing. I'm not talking about masturbating each other at the same time, or watching each other masturbate from opposite sides of the room. I'm talking about a girl taking her guy's prick in her hands and working on it with as much passion and force and love as he would use when doing it to himself. There is a time for fast beat-off sessions-on his coffee break, in the bathroom in the rest area on the highway, maybe even driving those long stretches between cities or caught in the freeway traffic, or when he's up there at the lake, fishing on the deserted old pier-but when making love, masturbation should be subtle and unhurried. It's as passionate as prolonged kissing, and can be as rewarding as the finest fucking.
Make him lie on his back, spreading his legs, comfortably. If he wants to watch, have him sit against something. Don't let him touch his cock or balls or even you, though you will want to vary this at times. But you are masturbating him, and he's there only to feel it, to enjoy it. Sometimes it's better for him not to watch because then he can close his eyes and let the feelings crawl through his entire body. He can fantasize, dream, relive other experiences, or just get off on the touch you're creating down there. Take his cock in your hand and wrap your fingers around it. Slide the skin up and down slowly, getting used to how far it will go. Pull his cock away from his body, checking to see how hard it is, how much it will bend. Every one is different, and you must get to know your lover's cock as well as he knows it. Watch him masturbate. Watch him shower. Watch him urinate. See how he treats his cock, see how he holds it, watch how he cares for it. Then you can masturbate him. You can soap him in the shower. You can even hold his cock for him while he urinates (which can be a powerful turn-on for most men).
Back to beating him off. You can use one hand or both, on his cock or other parts of his body. Try variations and see what makes him the most rigid, see what makes his pulse rise. Take his cock in both hands and move the skin back and forth, rubbing the thumbs over the glans (which is what the tip or head is called), feeling the wetness of the premature cum. Slide your fingers down over his balls, down to his asshole, tickling there, on his thighs. Pinch his nipples, tickle his armpits. Make him shudder and move in pain and passion. He won't lie still, so be ready to hold tightly to his penis.
You may want to dribble some saliva on the tip of his cock and let your hands become greased with it, or onto his balls, rubbing them with the wetness. Or use a cream of some sort, a body lotion. Or keep the penis very dry and lick off the drops of cum that rise to the slit in the tip. If he's not circumcised, take it easy on the head, because it's more sensitive than you think; too much stimulation there and you'll have a handful of semen before you're counting on it. Make him suffer-prolong it as much as possible so his orgasm is one of the best ever.
Your position means a lot, too. Try some kinky poses. I don't mean hang by your feet from the chandelier, but anything less than that is fine. Sit between his legs and cross your feet and tickle his ass with your toes. Or kneel between his legs and press your knee against his balls and the hard and sensitive skin between his balls and his ass. Sit on his chest and rub your pussy against his strong body. If you sit astride his legs, holding them together, it will make his balls very round because they'll be pushed up from between his thighs, and you can massage them like crazy. (I know a kid in New York who fucks his girl with his balls. No kidding. He has a little leather harness that holds both of them and makes them very tight. So tight and so hard, in fact, that he can slide them right into his girl's vagina and fuck her as though he's using his cock. She loves it because she can masturbate him with her hands while he is fucking her with his balls. I know it sounds incredible, but I've seen them do it.
A wonderful thing about masturbating your man is being able to view up close, in the first row center, that marvelous and magical thing called orgasm-that white creamy fluid shooting high into the air or coming out like a waterfall down your fingertips. Don't be afraid of semen. Some women are, and it is as understandable as men being afraid of a pussy. A good way to begin tasting and swallowing semen (before you're ready to have him come in your mouth) is to masturbate him to orgasm and then lick it off your fingers. He will get off just watching you do it. Offer him some. He'll love tasting his own cum.
And then go further, the next time you masturbate him. Have him prop himself up against the wall, with his feet over his head, and jerk him off so the semen lands on his face. Then kiss him and lick it off. If his cock is very long, press it down between his buttocks, next to his balls, before it gets rigid. If you hold it there it won't stiffen out (once hard, it won't go back down there, so hold onto it). Stimulate the head with your fingers (and maybe your tongue) until he comes. The mental stimulation should bring him to a fast climax-he's nearly fucking himself! Some men can do that, actually get the head 'of their cock into their anus. If you can do it for your man, fine. You'll go crazy at the sight of it. If you can at least force his cock down so he creams against his dry and hot asshole, he'll never forget it. A word of caution-not all cocks are so big and flexible, so be careful. You don't want to break it off.
One more thing to mention: if you have sliding glass doors, on a patio or leading to the porch or family room or sundeck, use them. How? The guy strips and goes to the side that has the lock. The girl is on the other side, where she cannot open or close the glass door; she can only watch. It's almost like being tied up, but even more frustrating. You have to watch or choose to break the glass and get badly cut. (Well, don't laugh, I know a couple who did go through a glass door because passion clouded their common sense.-make sure the glass is thick.)
What happens is simple-the guy masturbates, slowly, I and teases the hell out of the girl. He slaps his cock against the door, driving her wild. She will be licking the glass and will probably have her fingers up her pussy, longing and begging for him to open the door. But he doesn't. Instead, he comes all over the glass, squirting his white milky fluid all over her face in the glass. Then he lets her in to lick it off the window. Or he can open the door just before he comes and slide his cock into her to finish up with a bang.
The woman can do the same. She can drive the guy crazy by locking him outside the glass door and spreading her legs 'on the floor and playing the hell out of her pussy, while he pants and groans and begs like a puppy dog outside. It can be unbearably exciting to see a woman doing to herself what you want to do to her, and be completely unable to touch her. To watch her come, to see her body wracked with shivers and the thunder of an orgasm, is enough to bring a guy off without even touching his cock.
Now for the other side of the coin. Watch a woman masturbate herself, and then it's your turn to do her. You can tease her with your cock, rubbing it between her breasts or over her stomach or down between her legs, or even letting her feel it with her hands ... but it's better to keep it from her, make her squirm just as she made you squirm. Tell her to keep her eyes closed and to enjoy it. Begin by moving your hands slowly over .all the pressure points of her body, and by massaging the bps of her pussy until they are good and wet and just about begging you to enter her. When you finally do, the best way is to first press your full hand to her pussy-and let the middle finger slide in, as if you're standing next to her and you've just slid your hand down into her panties and are naturally lifting a finger into her body. Move it in and out with fast movements, going deeper each time. Then slide another finger in and while moving in and out, spread the lips, move your fingers sideways, jiggling them. She'll love it.
The final moment will be the ultimate stimulation of the clitoris-something she knows how to do well (or should), and it may take you some time to get the hang of it. The thing I had to learn was too much rubbing of the clitoris can be rather painful-doesn't your cock actually hurt sometimes after too much masturbating or sucking or fucking?-and the sensation produced can be a dull one rather than an intensified one of pure ecstasy. You need to search out the clit, learn how much it can take and when to give it. You may find that one finger does the job, or maybe it takes two hands, one to hold her open and another to massage that little hard portion of her body. Remember that all the places you touch down there, as with your body, will excite her-the lips, the surrounding area, her hairy pubis, her anus.
Watch her when she comes. Watch her nipples, her mouth, her head as it moves crazily back and forth. You're causing that! It gets you hard, doesn't it? And it gives you a good feeling of satisfaction inside, right? That's what it's supposed to do.
And the next time, go a little further. If she likes to move a lot or tried to interrupt you with her hands, tie her to the bedposts and make her suffer. She'll love it. Grease your fingers with her favorite hand lotion and massage her cunt with that. Use your tongue alternately with your fingers. Sit on her breasts or even on her face and drop your balls into her mouth. (If you do that, be careful when she reaches her climax, because she may lose all sense of time and place and bite them off.) Keep bringing her near orgasm, and stop each time she's ready to come. Drive her crazy.
And then drive each other crazy. Beat each other off at the same time. Lie in a sixty-nine position, or face each other. Kiss and say sexy things to each other. Tell your partner how it feels. Tell each other when you're nearing a climax, and wait until you're both ready to hit at the same moment. Ladies, aim his cock at your pussy; men, keep your hand in her pussy right down there under your cock so you'll feel your cream hitting the underside of your wrist. Lie back flat, on your backs, heads at each other's feet, your arms near the object of your interest. Bring each other off while looking only at her cunt, at his cock.
Can you imagine we used to think masturbation was sick and harmful? It's a beautiful, precious gift-and it should be shared.
COCKSUCKING
Fellatio, blow job; call it what you will-it all comes down to cocksucking. Everyone wants to know the best way to go about it. Is there a certain technique? No. Mouths vary as much as penises. But for those of you who are new at it, I think there's a basic method that will turn on any horny guy. And maybe even some not so horny.
Remember, as I said before, leading up to it is important. Let's say you showered together and smoked a joint and are now lying on the floor listening to music. Hell, you could be in a park somewhere, hidden in a clump of trees, lying on the grass. Wherever, whatever turns you on.
If the guy has his pants on, use that. I mean use his jeans or whatever he's wearing as part of the sensual aura you want to command. Relax him. Let him lie back and close his eyes. Tell him-whisper to him-to concentrate only on the pleasure he will be feeling; tell him not to think, just to be, just to let it happen, let himself be taken up by the feelings. Start by massaging his body. His arms, his hands, his fingertips. You didn't know they can be sensual? Try lightly rubbing his fingertips and alternately moving your hands down near his crotch. The moans you'll hear will tell you he likes the feel of your electric fingers on his. Sensuality comes from every inch of the body, not just from the genital area. Fingers, toes, even armpits, can be sexually exciting-if your head is into sensuality, total sensuality.
Move your hands down around his crotch. See the bulge there in his pants? Don't touch it, touch around it. Tease him, drive him crazy. Move your fingers down along his legs and back up his thighs, lightly touching the lump where his balls are. See his hips buck up toward you? You're doing fine ...
If his shoes aren't off, take them off, slowly, and make that a sensual act, too. The point is, everything can be part of the sensual aura if you make it so. Untie the laces slowly, rubbing his leg. Move his foot against your body as soon as the shoe is off, and do the same with the other. Strip the socks off him the same way you would strip his jockey shorts off him, drag your fingers along his ankles, feel him. Let him feel you feeling him. Lift his feet and breathe on them. Take his toes in your fingers and rub them. Lick them. Suck them.
Slide your arm as far up his pants leg as it will reach. If he has flared jeans on, terrific, you'll almost get to his balls. If not, caress his leg, his knees. If he has hairy legs, use that hair, pull on it, rub it backwards, against the grain, as if you are running your hands through the sleek fur of a beautiful cat. Make the hair stand up. It'll make his cock stand up!
Spread his legs gently and kneel between them. Start massaging at his neck, working down his arms to the fingertips again, and then back up to his shoulders. Relax him into a state of pure freedom from any tension, except the tension in his balls. Let all his feeling go into his cock. Move your fingertips back up around his neck, into his hair. Press your knees against his crotch and feel his balls against your body. Run your fingers through his hair as if you're doing a fast piece on the piano, or pecking away on a typewriter. Keep your fingers moving, and come down the sides of his head, over his ears, down his shoulders and chest, down his belly, down around the outline of his cock, around his balls, never quite touching them.
If he has a shirt with buttons down the front, undo them one by one, each time tickling his skin as you open another section. Spread the shirt wide and bring both your hands down on his chest, pressing hard, firm. Peel his taut nipples. Take them in your fingertips and squeeze them. Judge his reaction. If he sighs or moans, do it again, harder. Take the cue from him. If he doesn't react, go on to something else. If he's wearing a T-shirt, pull it up ever so slowly, or push it up until it is at his neck. Lift his arms gently and slide it off him. Bring your hands around his shoulders to rub his back, and tickle him a bit under the arms. Not so much that he gets hysterical (if he's ticklish), but enough to make him squirm. Bring your hands down to his navel and finger it. Remember, it is an orifice too, an opening, and it is sensitive. Concentrate on it and he will, too. Play with it, bend down and kiss it, lick it, suck on it. Pill it with saliva and drink the saliva out of it. Move it around with your fingers. While you do this, pull down on his pants, on the belt or the waistband, tug at it, but not enough to actually pull them off. Just enough to let your tongue slide down from his navel and taste the first few strands of his wiry pubic hair. Pull on them with your teeth so he knows you're that close to his cock. There'll probably be a wet spot in his pants where his cock is by this time. And that's what you want.
Pull away from him for a moment. Let him wonder what's next. Don't stay away too long, just enough to allow him to anticipate where the next sensation is going to come from.
And what will that be? Try this: put your mouth over the tip of his cock, right on the material of his pants where you see that wet stain, or where you can make out the outline of the head. Put your lips there and blow. Don't suck. What you're doing now is giving a blow job that is really a blow job. Blow hot air from your lungs into the material of his pants. If he's wearing jeans, the sensation will be tremendous because denim is very conducive to warmth and it tastes fine, too. Some woolen pants may be a bit rough on your lips. If he has undershorts on underneath the pants, all the better. It will take longer for the warmth to penetrate the material, and when it does he will howl in pleasure. Keep your lips there-and keep blowing, just as though you're blowing up a giant balloon-until you know he's good and hot, and then pull back. Chances are he'll be begging you-if not vocally, mentally-to take off his pants and put his cock in your mouth.
You will ... in time.
If you're going to be a good cocksucker, you have to savor doing it. It isn't a favor you're doing someone. It isn't a rehearsal for fucking. It isn't a solitary act. It's a wonderful and beautiful act between two people-you are just as much a participant as the person you're doing. Without you, what kind of blow job would he be getting? The thing to remember is that you can develop real and honest pleasure from sucking cock. Not only the pleasure in knowing you're making love, that you're giving someone ultimate pleasure, but a real sense of fulfillment and excitement in yourself. The feel of the head of a cock in your throat, rubbing on the roof of your mouth, the balls lying in your cupped hand-doesn't that do something for you? Concentrate on it; savor it. You'll find incredible physical pleasure for yourself in it.
Now, run your hands over his cock and balls, over the outline. Pretend you're fluffing up a pillow or a bedspread. Use your fingers lightly, patting them allover. The sensations shooting up his spine will make his blood rush and his toes tingle. Take one finger, just one, and outline his cock in his pants, as though your finger is a paintbrush and you're capturing the size of his organ on canvas. Tickle the tip, then go to his balls and tickle there. Move your fingers down-he will probably automatically move his ass up for you to get down there easily-and run your hand between his buttocks. No matter what you think or what people have told you, I've never met a guy yet, young or old, who didn't feel pleasure from his anus. Everyone has their limits, and you'll find those of your partner. Again, take the cue from him. If you get little reaction from prying at his asshole, go back to his cock and concentrate on the front alone. If he spreads his legs and practically begs you to get your fingers into his ass, by all means oblige. Judge what he likes-it really isn't hard to be aware of your partner's wants and likes. You just need to be unselfish and tuned in to his desires. The slightest grin or grimace can be a sign to you that what you're doing is right or wrong. (Sometimes, come to think of it, a grimace can mean he's loving it, especially if he's into pain. If he groans and looks as though he's in pain and you stop and he looks disappointed, get back there and start hurting him some more!)
Okay, enough teasing. It's time for the unveiling. I've known guys who have come just from the excitement of freeing their cocks from their pants. Just like that, with no other stimulation except the foreplay I've just described. I remember a guy in Chicago-he was about thirty-two, handsome, very nice body and a beautiful, perfect cock whom Helen had turned me on to. I did to him just exactly what I've just described to you. So by the time I opened his zipper and saw his cock, he was on the verge of coming. Just the thought that his cock was now free, after all that stimulation, was stimulation enough to bring him to a whopping orgasm. He said, "Oh, God, I'm ... " And that was it. I saw his cock jerk-nothing was touching it-and all of a sudden it was shooting like a gun, over his head and onto the wall! I watched it with amazement and felt good that I'd caused that. (I received a nice tip, too, come to think of it, and he came back quite a few times.)
So. Run your fingers along the waist of his trousers, reaching under just a little to tug at his pubic hair. If he has shorts on underneath, put your fingers under the elastic band. Tease him. If his cock is sticking straight up, be careful not to touch the head. Work around it. Open his belt and make noise doing it. Let him know you're doing it. Remember, he's not looking, he's only feeling and sensing. His eyes are closed, or he's viewing the clouds through glazed eyes, or maybe the ceiling of the room tilting and spinning ...
Open the belt and click the metal together. Then undo the pants. If there's a snap, give it a good tug to let him know it has opened. If it's a button, do it slowly and he'll feel the freedom of his cock now that the constriction of the pants is gone. Let the zipper slide down by itself if it can. Or pull it down, slowly, deliberately. If you're in a room, chances are you'll both hear it. He'll at least feel it if his pants are tight enough. He'll feel it on his cock. Pull it down all the way and rub your fingernails up and down it, spreading the flaps of his pants.
If he's wearing undershorts:
(1) Briefs. Regular jockey-type cotton briefs, which most men wear, are a turn-on in themselves to many people, and certainly to the guy wearing them-if they become part of the sensual aura of your lovemaking.
Take the band in your fingertips and snap it. Then lift it and blow into them. You'll probably see his cock for the first time. Savor the sight, delight in it. Pull the shorts down enough so it pops up. Lick it. That's all, just one fast lick. Then cover it again, letting the elastic snap back in place, hiding his cock. Then do the blowing number again; take the cotton material into your mouth, and blow into it. Feel his cock underneath your lips. Rub it with your tongue. Get it wet with your saliva as well as his premature semen. You'll be able to see the head of his cock through the material-ever gone swimming in a lake or the ocean in cotton briefs? You know they become transparent under water. Well, make the front of his transparent. Don't only blow, suck. Start giving a blow job, the real kind, through the shorts. Take the head of his cock in your teeth and don't be afraid to bite harder than you normally would, because the material will protect his cock. Remember, too, the penis is a pretty strong baby, it can take-and give-a lot.
Finally, pull the front of the wet shorts down with your teeth. He'll feel you doing that, and it's a definite turn-on. Not with your fingers, with your teeth. If you like, pull him to his knees and lie on your stomach and yank them down-his jeans with them-with your teeth. Or have him stand up, while you kneel in front of him and pull his shorts and pants down with your teeth, all the way to his ankles so he can step out of his clothes and offer you that gorgeous cock and balls you've been teasing for the past half-hour.
(2) Bikinis or any of the "skants" of the 1960s. Coopers, Inc., of Kenosha, Wisconsin, is responsible for the revolution in men's underwear. They make jockey brand shorts and have led the world in the change from plain white briefs (still the favorite, however) to colors that dazzle the senses and designs that accent what equipment a man has. Even the crotches on male mannequins seem to have developed real baskets in the last few years. Undershorts-the skant variety-now come in all materials, silk, nylon, even a paper version that can be thrown away after your orgasm. Some hug the cock so perfectly that they provide support without letting one ripple go unnoticed in your pants. If you've never tried anything but the white briefs, try a pair of outrageous slinky bikinis. They can be fun; that's what they're all about. All the companies have followed jockey and now produce a variety of shorts. I've seen them from terry cloth to imitation leather to a version which allows you to slip in any thickness of padding. The old "sweat sock" joke is now a mass market item. Foam rubber cups can enhance what is already there, if that's your thing.
Getting back to our scene. You find out your guy has a pair of red nylon skants on under his pants. Do the same number you'd do on a pair of cotton jockey shorts. The difference is that the lips feel as though they're really touching the cock. The material seems to disappear entirely under the wetness. It's exciting to lift the shorts from his body with your fingers and then press down and tickle the tip of his cock with your tongue. Or wet his cock very well, the whole shaft, and then lick up it many times, as though you're licking a Popsicle. It'll drive him crazy.
Another feature of the nylon and other synthetic briefs is that they can be a little rough on the tip of a cock, which can be stimulating. Move the material over the cockhead; rub it with the material. He'll love it. If he has silk shorts on his body, caress his cock as though he were lying on silk sheets on a bed and his cock were hidden beneath a fold. Be creative.
If you're going to remove his pants, do it the same way. Pull his pants down first. Then, if he's standing or kneeling, yank his skimpy briefs down with your teeth. Work around him. Start with his hips. Pull down there first. Then work around front.-Most of his pubic hair will be showing already, for bikinis are low-waisted. The base of his cock will be right under the band. Nudge his cock with your chin. Then work to the other hip and finally around to his ass. Pull the shorts all the way down to expose his buttocks. Kiss them. Lick them. Gently force him to bend forward and go as far as you feel he wants you to go-if it means stopping with a light peck between the cheeks, or sliding your tongue as far up his asshole as you can. (I'll get into ass-loving in another section.)
One other hint-silky briefs are great for sucking his balls. They seem to come right through the material. If they hang low, you'll be able to pull them into your mouth right along with the material. Try it. You'll like it. And so will he.
But the very best thing about these shorts is their rip-ability. They tear. They rip. They shred. Put them in between your teeth and pull. See the hole? He's astonished, right? Jesus, he paid over $6 for those shorts! But when his cock pops out through that hole and he sees you sucking his cock through that hole in his expensive shorts, that hole you bit open with your teeth, he'll love it. I'm not advocating this on the first date. Get to know one another first. And only chew up his shorts if you're into a very passionate trip. If you're making love silently and gently with candles burning and Mahler in the background, it will seem strange and somewhat incongruous if you suddenly take a chomp out of his undershorts.
(3) Boxer shorts. A lot of men wear them. A lot of men are turned on by them. A lot of men are turned off by them. If you like them, wear them. Coopers and the other manufacturers now make tapered boxer shorts, which hug a man's frame, hold his ass, fit gently under his balls and allow his cock to swing free (the best thing to be said about boxers). They now come in colors and have stripes along the side, much like tight gym trunks or track outfits. The leg holes hug the thighs. And they're very sexy.
There are two ways of using boxers in your preliminaries. The first is nibbling on the tip of his cock through the top of the shorts, and through the fly. It's quite a chore-and a greatly exciting one-to get his cock out of the fly of a pair of boxer shorts. No hands, yet.
The second way is the most exciting-I'm talking about when a guy's cock sneaks its head out of the leg opening of his boxer shorts. Gym trunks work the same way. Get the guy's pants off and have him lie down on the floor or ground. Lick his thighs and look up into the darkness of his boxer shorts ... see that rounded head in there peeping back at you? Coax it out with your tongue, welcome it, call it, be the Pied Piper. It will harden and lengthen, and even though its natural instinct will be to go up rather than down along his thigh, the tightness of the leg opening will hold it in position. In fact, it will act much like a cock ring (more about those later, but for now just know a cock ring is a device which fits snugly around the base of the penis and keeps the organ tumescent for a long, long time), and you'll have a beautiful big hard-on to caress, lick, make love to.
The baggy boxers don't provide you with this assistance, so you'll have to make variations and follow the cock wherever it goes when it gets hard. Which is fine, too. Remember, no matter what he wears, use it, make it part of making love.
(4) Jockstraps. Well, this isn't really a kind of undershort, but suppose you open your partner's pants and find a jock underneath? First of all, the mental stimulation can be tremendous, because jockstraps, of course, belong to the macho school of locker rooms and sweat socks and muscle men. If that's what you're into, all the better, and if the guy is wearing one, chances are he's into it, too, unless he just likes how they feel or you happened to catch him right after his tennis match.
What to do with them, what technique to use? Same as cotton briefs-suck. Suck his cock through the jock. His cock will usually get hard in the position it rests in the jock (downward) and he'll beg for release. Don't give it to him until you really think he's going to pop his load. Suck on his cock and his balls, and get down between naked ass cheeks. That's a feature in favor of the jock: naked ass.
A cock sneaking out the side of a tight jock can be one of the greatest visual turn-ons you can ever have.
Okay, you've gotten his pants open and you've discovered the kind of undergarment he's wearing ...
He's not wearing any? Not unusual these days; the fact is, men's underwear manufacturers have lost money in the past two years. One large company recently offered a "cash rebate" on their regular white briefs. Says something, doesn't it? Men's liberation has arrived. They're not burning jockey shorts in front of the news cameras like the lady bra burners of a few years ago, but they sure as hell aren't wearing them as much as before. There is a new freedom-between men's legs.
(Whoever said men were meant to wear underpants, anyhow? One of the most popular features ever to be printed in Viva magazine was a selection of men dressed in various outfits-the doctor, the lawyer, the waiter, the track star, etc.-in which it was clear none of them were wearing underpants and their cocks were extremely visible, and quite hard as well. I think that California has fewer underwear wearers than any state in the nation. In the two years that I've lived here since I wrote The Happy Hustler I've met a lot of guys, straight, gay, bisexual, and 90 percent of them don't wear underwear. I usually do, and they think I'm a little weird. Oh, well.)
If he's wearing underwear, I've already told you how to get it off. If he isn't, you're already there, and now I'm catching up with you. Spread his legs on the ground and run your hands up his legs. Look at the tip of his cock. See the cum already wetting it, a big pearly drop? Lick it off. Hear him moan? He wants you, wants your lips ...
Go ahead. Grasp his beautiful shaft at the base and hold it as you part your lips and descend to the tip. Kiss it and hold your tongue at the slit. Feel him move, feel his balls tighten, feel his heart beat faster. You'll feel his cock surge also, harder now than you ever dreamed it could be. Move down farther, taking more of the wonderfully hot penis in your mouth. Swirl your tongue over the tip and suck gently run your lips off, all the way, and look at it. Get into the wonder and beauty of this exceptional organ. Look at it and love it and go back down on it. When your fingers get in the way, it is time to let go of the shaft. You don't need to hold it any longer-your mouth will do that now. Let it slide back and see how much you can take. Do it all, if he's easy enough to get down your throat, or do it in fast deep-throats, or don't go all the way (unless you want ruptured tonsils; some cocks are just too long). Start to move back and forth on his prick, in rhythm. Fuck his cock with your mouth. Rub his balls with one hand and play with his ass with the other. Suck, keep sucking. Blow jobs mean suck jobs. Caress the tip, that very tender glans, with your tongue, and use your teeth, being careful not to hurt, but at the same time biting just enough to give him an exciting sensation.
You can work on his cock for hours, if you know just how far to go and when to stop. If it seems as though he's going to come any moment, pun off and just don't touch that pulsating organ with anything, unless you're ready for him to shoot. A good tease can drive him insane with desire and pleasure, and make his eventual orgasm the richest ever. Tease his cock. Suck his bans. Lick his cock, holding it like a giant ice cream bar. Kiss it all over, big smacking kisses. Flick just your tongue at the underside of the tip. Breathe on it. Blow on it a little. Then take it all in one gulp.
And then take his gift, that wonderful bittersweet stuff, his cum, his jism, his sperm, and drink it down. Either swallow as it shoots out of the tip of his cock or let it build up in your mouth and then take it all at once. It isn't easy to do ... sometimes it just keeps coming and coming! A good way to get used to drinking the sperm is having him masturbate-or you masturbate him yourself-and when he comes, and wherever he comes, lick some of it up and get used to the taste, the feel of it, the sensation of taking into your body something which tells of his passion and manhood. Pretty soon you'll be sucking him off three times in a row, and drinking it each time.
When he's come and you're both panting, keep his cock in your mouth. For as long as you can. There's nothing quite so good after his orgasm as feeling his cock soften in your lips. Keep his soft cock in your mouth. Who knows? It may get hard again.
Chapter Four: A VIEW FROM THE REAR
We've come close, but we haven't really discussed it just how literal should we take the expression "kiss my ass!"? It really can be a wonderful part of making love. And so:
BETWEEN THE SHEETS, BETWEEN THE CHEEKS
It really is understandable. We're taught, from the minute we're brought home from the hospital, that bodily functions are dirty (filthy, disgusting, all those wonderful adjectives), and that the parts of the body associated with them are somehow just as dirty. One bright day, somewhere in puberty, we discover that one part of our body has a double purpose; the boy realizes his pee-pee not only makes pee-pee, but gives him the most pleasurable sensation when he touches it ... and then he climaxes. The little girl finds that putting her finger inside the place she urinates from does something wonderful to her whole body. Still, the differentiation is made between a sexual act and a functional act. When you take a leak, you take a leak, it has nothing to do with sex. (Like hell, but we'll talk about that later.) When you have sex, any thought of the other bodily functions performed by that part of your anatomy is supposed to be put aside.
And what of that other part of your body, the backside? Your anus. Or, as most of us call it, asshole. So often it never even comes close to gaining the attention that the penis and vagina get; it stays listed as a "bodily function" orifice with no other value or purpose.
Bullshit.
If you haven't discovered it yet, you will. In fact, your asshole is one of the most sensitive parts of your entire body and has as much to do with sexuality as what is between your thighs. If you know that, and if you're already practicing anal intercourse and including analingus in your lovemaking, then skip the rest of this.
If not, if you're curious, if you've read about it but never tried it, if you're at all interested ... hell, if you put your finger between your buttocks and you like the tingle, read on:
The first time I became aware, really aware of the sensitivity of my own anus and the never-ending pleasure that can be associated with it, was at Helen's. Lacey, the pretty black girl who started me out in bed there, and who remains a dear friend today, turned me over on my stomach and said, "Relax, baby." Just the fact that I was lying with my ass facing her threw me. It wasn't the masculine position. It wasn't right. Hell, wasn't it "dirty"? Well, no, I'd never believed that, because I can never remember a time when I wasn't masturbating without tickling my anus with my fingertips. And even when Kent and I were playing around, discovering sex together, we often fingered each other's assholes. Even Connie, the darling little maid who offered not only her domestic services to Kent's family, but her body, too, liked to have us stick a finger up her butt. Still, it was incidental. It wasn't like it was a real sexual thing. It was always foreplay or an extra charge never an entity in itself.
That changed with Lacey. She knelt between my legs and I had to spread (I had no choice; she was forcing my buttocks open with her knees). I was cringing, holding tight to the edge of the bed. I was scared in a very excited way. I was going to be "violated." By a beautiful young girl. It blew my mind. Didn't she just want my cock? Isn't that what all girls wanted? I thought so at the time, but I sure learned differently later.
Lacey did a number on me. She started off with something that stunned me, made me lose my breath, made my heart beat faster than fast, and which remains firmly etched in my mind. As Lacey spread my ripe ass cheeks with her soft hands, she whispered, "I'm gonna kiss you, honey." The only place I'd ever been kissed was my head. Mouth, cheeks, forehead-nose, even. I lifted my head and turned. I really thought-funny, but even I was naive once-that she was going to lean up and kiss me as she had done several times, on the lips.
I turned just in time to see her dark hair cascading all over my buttocks. Then I felt her warm breathing between the cheeks. And then her lips, oh God, her lips pressing gently against the opening of that spot which seemed so forbidden and hidden. I had to close my eyes and keep from shooting my load right into the mattress. I'd never experienced a sensation quite like it.
My reaction was both mental and physical. In my mind, I was saying things like She's kissing me on my ass, just as she'd be kissing me on the lips! I pictured myself standing across the room, watching the scene. There I was, spread-eagled on a bed, and a beautiful young black girl with long dark hair and hard breasts was French-kissing my asshole. She had her head buried not in my crotch, not in the nape of my neck, not under my armpit (many people find licking armpits distasteful, which amazes me because nothing much comes out of there but sweat, which comes out everywhere eventually), Lacey's head was not in anyone of the conventional places, but rather between the cheeks of my ass. She was sucking my asshole! The place where I sit, the place where I shit. She was pressing her face, her beautiful face, between the cheeks of my ass. It blew my mind.
And the physical sensation was sensational, if I'm allowed to use the same word in one sentence. It was many things-hot, wet, different from anything I'd ever felt before. I felt teeth, and teeth had never been down there. I felt lips, and lips had never been in that spot. I was feeling her and feeling myself, too, feeling my asshole open just a little more as she tongued it, as though I wanted her to try to put her tongue in me. I was aware of my hair down there as she licked and chewed on it. And the sensation traveled up my spine like an elevator to my brain. My legs trembled as I lifted them and rubbed them along her naked body. My balls swelled as I felt the saliva from her mouth rolling down my asshole and onto my nuts. My cock, well, my cock was drilling a hole in the bed.
And so I got my first taste, so to speak, of analingus. Of course, I tried it myself. No, I didn't try to suck my own ass, a feat that I've never seen done. I've seen many guys suck their own cocks, and even one woman I knew could bend enough to slip her tongue between the lips of her pussy (but not for long). I asked Lacey to lie on the bed, face down, and I spread her legs and found the dark spot between them. She concentrated on what was happening. I watched closely as her anus puckered and the pink of her opening came into bloom. I gently licked at it until she moaned and sighed with pleasure. I'm licking her asshole! I'm going to kiss her asshole! My head was reeling. I smashed my lips to her anus and kissed. That's what I did, kissed, just as I'd kiss a person on the lips. There's nothing more to it than that, to start off with. The pleasure is infinite, for both partners.
The ultimate point of anal sex is, of course, anal intercourse. There are actions that even go beyond that, of course, namely the very popular gay sport of fist-fucking, and sticking objects up the ass-objects which most people would never think could be stuck up one's ass: beer cans, tennis balls, you name it. I know a boy, a hustler who's done pretty good at it, who had to be rushed to a hospital one evening after a trick had talked him into allowing him to stuff most of a clarinet up his anus. The astonished doctors removed it with no harm to either the boy's colon or to the clarinet.
But such oddities usually don't have much to do with making love; they're kinky things done for kicks. I'm not putting them down. God knows, I've done my share. There's a place for every sexual oddity known to man, and some yet undiscovered. But we're interested in lovemaking here.
What, concerning the asshole, does enter into your sexual awareness, into your lovemaking? Try these:
ASS-KisSING. Just what I've been talking about. Strip your partner naked and kiss him/her, long and lovingly, on the lips. Then immediately go to your knees, running your hands down his/her body, and gently turn the person around. Say, "I'm going to kiss you." Say it out loud. Then kiss his/her ass. In fact, start the whole thing like that. Before you take your partner's clothes off, tell him/her you want to kiss, you want to kiss him/her all over ... Go directly from lips to the anus. The shock value is incredible. Spread the buttocks with your hands and kiss the puckered asshole as lovingly as you would the mouth. Before you know it, your partner will be doing the same to you. And in time you'll be in a sixty-nine position on the floor, your tongues drilling up each other's assholes ... it is a truly fantastic sensation to be kissing each other's asshole at the same moment.
I'd love to see an old Hollywood romantic film, something out of the 1930s with the lush music playing in the background, in which the hero says, "Kiss me, darling, kiss me one last time before I leave." He's wearing tux and tails, and she's in a long white gown. "Yes, I will kiss you, my love, my beloved," she says, and then whips around, yanks his pants down, and with a great roll of the eyes, presses her lips between his hairy ass cheeks and plants a good one on his asshole. Oh, well, so much for fantasy.
The added thrill comes because analingus is something you won't do often. Think, then, how fascinating it will be for both of you to have your lips on the other's asshole at the same time, and your hands holding the buttocks spread, smelling each other's body scents, becoming, in a sense, part of one another. It can be purely physical ... I mean you can do this purely as a technique and get a great charge out of it. But the act is enhanced when it's done with a lover, with someone you feel something for. You are tasting of the forbidden fruits of each other's body. What can be better shared?
TONGUE-FUCKING. It's the next natural step, the progression. What we used to call French kissing is now just plain old kissing, but the point is that the tongue is involved and the lips are open. Do that to your lover's asshole. Kiss it the old way, with lips sealed, and then open them, let them flower in the kiss, let them moisten. Bring your tongue to the opening and press, poke. You'll feel the other's natural rhythm working with you, and soon the muscles of the anus will grow less and less tight, allowing your tongue to actually enter your lover's anal passage. You'll have to work at it. Your tongue will get tired. That's okay, rest. Put your head on your lover's ass and rest. Catch your breath. Reach under and grab something, caress something. When you have your wind back, go to it again. Help your partner relax by rubbing his/her ass cheeks, massage his/her back and shoulders as you lick between the cheeks, even run your fingers down along the legs. Do it slowly, concentrate on penetrating. You'll feel your tongue going in. Don't think you can really fuck with your tongue, as you would with a finger or penis. No human tongue exists that is capable of penetrating an asshole to lengths where the parties involved really can call it fucking. (Watch, I'll be swamped with letters telling me I have the fastest tongue in the West, and I get it up my girl's ass as far as my 15-inch dick! I'll take the chance.)
Tongue-fucking can be an end in itself. Or it can be just the preliminary step to something more, usually finger-fucking or anal penetration by the penis. Any way you look at it, it's a wonderfully exciting part of making love. One of the best ways of breaking down inhibitions, or really getting your lover to loosen up, or to communicate to him/her that you are loose and free and uninhibited, is to kiss the ass, tongue it, and make love to it. If the person hasn't had it done to them before, they're-going to be in heaven-startled, but in heaven. The results will only be positive. And if it's already part of their sexual awareness, you are telling them you are on the same wavelength, always a good thing to know when it comes to loving.
Kiss my ass. Great expression. Take it literally, with your lover. You'll both be glad you did.
FINGER-FUCKING. The tongue won't go as far as you or your partner wants it to go. What will make it up there? Your finger, of course. One, at first. Then two. Even three, depending upon the person and the amount of pressure it takes to produce the pleasure.
Let's talk about men first. The most obvious fact is that the anus is the only part of a man's body that can be penetrated. The prostate gland produces marvelous sexual sensations when massaged. How do you massage it? From inside, up his asshole.
It's really too bad there isn't a slang expression for the' prostate; the word sounds so clinical. Even the word gland has a distinct unpleasantness about it. But no one's come up with a good word for it, so we have to use the real one ...
Let's just say, finger-fucking can be very pleasant for a man because he will feel great pleasure from the movement in his anus. No diagrams needed, no clinical terms. Just try it and find out. Stick a finger up his ass, the small one to start. Wet it with saliva. Work it in gently, letting him tell you, if not in words, with his movements or breathing, how much to push and how much to let up. The sensation is great for both of you. You can see your little finger disappearing up his dark, masculine asshole, and you can feel the smooth warmth inside him. If he's on his back with his legs up and spread, look at his balls, look at his cock, look at his face. Watching him can be very stimulating. Watch him beat off, play with his balls, pound his fists on the floor or bed. If he's on his stomach, plant little kisses on his ass cheeks, reach up with the other hand and run your fingers through his hair, put your hand on his shoulder and grasp it firmly. In either position, fondle his balls lightly. A man seems to like nothing better when he's being finger-fucked than to have his balls rubbed-that is, next to having his cock sucked. But that's a whole other thing ...
Work the finger all the way in, the knuckle gone, right up to your palm. Wiggle it inside him. Pull it out a little, then push it all the way in again. Soon he'll get used to the rhythm, and you'll be into it together. Let the finger slip out. Replace it with a bigger one. Fuck him, Fuck him with your finger. Work it harder and harder. He'll beg for more. Give him two at once. Be careful, especially if it's his first time. Work them in gently. The muscles will get used to it, they'll expand. Fuck him with both fingers. Drive him mad with passion, and make him love you all the more for it.
It's the same for a woman. Even though the prostate is not our concern here, remember, a woman's asshole is as sensitive as a man's and can send shivers of pleasure throughout her body. There is a fine line separating her anal canal from her vaginal passageway, as I discovered once when another guy and I fucked a woman at the same time. We could feel each other's cocks rubbing up and down inside her.
ANAL INTERCOURSE. Ass-fucking is another word for it. Afraid of it? Of course. "That big thing would never fit up me ... " Well, it will, but it takes great concentration, great relaxation of the muscles, and usually a few tries before you'll really get pleasure out of it. Most couples try it at least once in their sex life, and for some it becomes their favorite diversion. Give it a chance. There's something marvelously exciting about it in a psychological sense, and there can be extreme gratification on the physical level for both the man and the woman. She will have a feeling of fullness, of completeness, of wonder, a kind of astonishment at how really nice it is to feel this big cock of his pumping hot cream into this forbidden place. He will love the sheer tightness of it, the heat, the friction of his balls against your pussy.
Just as with your tongue and finger, use them as a prelude to anal intercourse-don't shove your cock up there in one fast thrust or you may kill her), take your time and allow the muscles to soften and allow entry to take place. Lubrication is necessary for ass-fucking, and the bigger the penis, the more juice you're going to need. I've known guys who like to be fucked in the ass who don't need (or want) lubrication, because the friction is more exciting. But I've not yet come across a woman who could take it dry. Perhaps it would work after a long period of assfucking, because the ass will stretch somewhat, the muscles will grow used to being parted.
It will be painful, and you have to be careful at first. The pain can be great, stimulating. But if it grows to a point where she feels she can't continue, stop and start again another time. Press the head of your cock to her asshole and move it around, pressing just enough to allow the head to slip inside her. Leave it there and hold it there until she gasps with the realization of what's happening down there. You'll know when to give her more. Be gentle and talk-ask her if you're hurting or if those are mere cries of passion. If you think you're really going to harm her, then slip it out (slowly), and kiss her there and start again when she's relaxed.
The girl has to work at it, too. She must relax, and that's not easy when you're highly stimulated sexually. All your concentration must be put down between your legs and onto this marvelous new experience, this new trip on which you're embarking.
Once you're in-remember, sometimes you won't get to put it all the way in. It depends on the size of your cock and how much she can take-you'll have to go slowly and work up to a rhythm. When you come, don't pump. Hold your cock in her and just let the semen flow. She'll feel it and the soothing salve from your cock will help the stretched, aching muscles.
Understand that anal intercourse will usually be more pleasurable for the guy than for the girl. He can make the act better for her by fingering her pussy at the same time, even feeling his cock inside her through the walls of her cunt. If she loves you, she will do anything to please you that's physically possible. If she allows you to fuck her in the ass often because you get off on it, love her more for it. She's putting your pleasure high on her list of priorities; don't forget to do the same for her.
There are some straight men who like to get ass-fucked, but don't quite have the nerve to go to another man for it. Their girl friends or wives can accommodate them by using a dildo or a vibrator. I know a guy who, every time he fucks his wife, has her fuck him with a vibrator. Some women even wear a dildo contraption, kind of a jockstrap with a plastic cock, and actually fuck their husbands with their entire bodies. If it's his thing, give him what he wants. Remember that a lot of sexual pleasure comes from a man's anus and prostate gland, and his cock and balls are not the only erogenous parts of his body.
Sometimes, if anal intercourse is particularly painful for the woman, it can be used as foreplay-just in for a moment and then slip it into her pussy. Or it can be used as the culmination of a time in bed, slipping it inside her ass just before you come, and then filling her ass with your semen.
I've done a variation of this many times, one which I find pretty damn exciting, and most of the people I've done it to have agreed. I like to tease and tease, moving the head of my cock over the person's asshole, making them beg for it. I jerk off with my hands, still with my cockhead pressing at the opening. All the begging in the world won't get me to slide it in. But I do-after I come. That's the twist. I reach an orgasm and let the first shot of cum hit squarely at the opening of the asshole, and then with a powerful shove, I slide my cock all the way in, and I'm coming all the way, all the time, as I get it all the way in. It's a freakout. My cum is the lubrication. It's never failed to surprise and delight the customer-or the lover or friend. It's not to be recommended for the first time, nor to anyone who can't take a cock being shoved up their ass in one plunge. But for couples who really like anal intercourse, it's a terrific change of pace.
PART TWO: A Man and a Man
Chapter One: THE SENSUAL HOMOSEXUAL
When the word sensuous was in vogue a few years ago (The Sensuous Woman, The Sensuous Man, The Sensuous Gorilla, etc.), I remember being surprised at how few people believed themselves to be sensuous beings. The sales of the "sensuous" books pointed up the lack of confidence men and women had in themselves as lovers. People wanted to be taught how to become sensuous.
How about sensuous homosexuals? In this section I want to deal not with gay fears (for that, see the last chapter of this book), but rather with the problems of fully embracing your sensuality once you have admitted to yourself that you are indeed homosexual and happy that way. You have accepted your homosexuality and there are no more fears, no more doubts. You're gay and proud (even if you don't tell the world and shout it from the rooftops), and now you want to learn how to be a good lover.
All the other gay guys you know are out tonight, right, while you sit at home wondering why they make out and you don't? You've seen a terrific hunk who lives in your building and you know he's gay and you want him, but you can't seem to make a move to communicate that? You live in a small town and know there are other guys like you, but you can't find them. You think you're doing something wrong because no one has ever come up and made a subtle pass at you? Your lover hasn't touched you in months except to hug you on your birthday, and you wonder why you don't attract him any more?
I've had all these questions put to me in letters I've received. It seems as though while the great pains of coming out are fading, they're being replaced by the pains of believing you're not as good-looking as the next guy, you're not very good in bed, you'd make anyone a lousy lover, so why even bother to go out looking?
Well, maybe you aren't as good-looking as the next guy. So what? Looks mean a lot in gay life-in any life, I think, but there's a lot more to sensuality than looking like Robert Redford (or whoever is your idea of a knockout). How do you know you're not good in bed-have you ever gone to bed with you? Why put yourself down and assume no one would be interested in you, and if by some miracle they would be, you wouldn't be able to keep them because you're not a good lover?
It's all in your head, first of all. If you don't believe you have the capability of being a truly sensuous person, then you have given up without even trying. Do you want to give up so easily? Masturbation is wonderful, but you can't spend your entire life alone with your cock. Man is a social animal; man needs others to survive. If you're gay, you need another man to make love to, to make love to you. We all have the capability of loving and the capacity to be loved. Just the fact that we're living, breathing human beings, with hearts and souls, makes each and everyone of us capable of being sensuous, loving, sexy, beautiful!
The first thing you have to do is tell yourself you're worth it. You're worth the love of the kid sitting on the bar stool near you. You're worth the time and effort it will take to get your body in shape-and your head in shape. You're worth whatever struggle it will entail to get you to realize that you have as much sensual potential as the guy who seems to have fifteen lovers and ten more standing in line.
You can develop the things that will make you a terrific homosexual lover. You can really learn technique, really develop expertise in the line of making love. You can create a sensual atmosphere around yourself, an atmosphere in which you will live and work. And, in doing so, you can make life fulfilling and be happier than you ever have been before.
I mentioned masturbation before, and maybe we should start with that. You've probably practiced it since you were old enough to realize your cock sometimes got hard, and when you rubbed it, it even felt good. Helen once argued with me that there was no such thing as masturbation before a kid comes of age (or just plain comes), because masturbation by definition includes orgasm. But I told her she never had a cock-though, sometimes, when she was being bitchy, Paul and I would tell people that the biggest cock we'd ever seen was Helen's. Anyway, she didn't know that long before a kid is able to ejaculate, he experiences incredible sensation and feeling, and to my way of thinking, that is an orgasm. The cum is a treat that comes later.
I've never known a guy-gay or straight-who didn't masturbate. With all the books written on the subject recently, you'd think women didn't know that they were capable of doing it until they were taught how. Female masturbation manuals are everywhere; I guess it comes easier to males. I think perhaps gay boys masturbate even more than their heterosexual counterparts, because during the period they're fighting gay fears and worrying about what it will be like to come out, they have no outlet for sexual release other than their hands. Often, many years are filled with gay daydreams and fantasies, and enough beating off to give you blisters. Once you've come out, and sexual tension is released by having active sex with other males, you don't seem to feel the need to masturbate quite as much.
But you still do it. I don't care what anyone says, if you're lovers and sworn to faithfulness forever, there are still days when you're going to go into the bathroom, shut the door, and jerk off. You can be having sex every night, maybe twice a day, active, wild sex, and you'll still wake up some morning and find the only way to get your hard-on down is to masturbate. There are some nights when masturbation is better than a Seconal. (It almost always is.)
If you still have guilty feelings about masturbating, get rid of them right now. The age of "you'll grow hair on your palms and your mind will rot" is finished, buried. We're into much healthier thinking now, which is to go ahead and beat off any damn time you feel like it. Come twice, three, ten times in a row if you're capable and feel like it. Do what makes you feel good ... it's the first step to knowing your body really well, and developing that body as a sensuous machine.
Beating off is a great way to get your body keyed up, get your adrenalin rushing. It relieves tension. It's a great way to kill a few minutes or a few hours-do it quick, in the john at work, or leisurely, at home while looking at your collection of pornography. It's easy-you don't have to dress for the occasion, don't have to wash your hair or shave or bathe. Usually it's a complete act; you can pretty much count on an orgasm right from the first stroke. With a lover, another person, you're never quite sure that you're going to climax (but you shouldn't worry about it, either). You have only your own satisfaction to think about. In fact, don't even think about it, just let it happen, do It and dream. You'll feel the satisfaction. Masturbation is power in a sense-you control everything, you call the shots. It's a guaranteed orgasm without getting involved with another person, without emotions other than the sensations you are feeling at the moment.
During the time I was hustling in New York, working for Phillip Delaney, I got to be friendly with Jamie, another hustler. We went to the movies together and things like that when we weren't working, and one night I dropped in on him to see if he wanted to go to the opera. I had been given two tickets by a patron of the arts, an older woman I mentioned briefly in The Happy Hustler, and I figured Jamie would like to go, since he was a music freak. As I walked down the hall to his apartment, it suddenly dawned on me that he did have a date. I remembered him telling me that he was meeting some guy he hated, but one who paid very well. It was early enough to find someone else to go to the Met, but I thought I'd see if he were home anyhow and say hi. As I knocked on his door, it swung open. I looked around. No one seemed to be there, but that was crazy. No one left a door unlocked in New York City, especially not Jamie who'd been ripped off just a few months before while he was down in the laundry room. I walked down the long hall leading to his bedroom, and there he was, on the bed, naked, propped up on the pillows. He had his fist around his thick hard cock and a Coke bottle shoved up his ass. He was sweating, his eyes were glazed, and he looked outrageously happy. I stood there with my mouth open what was he doing? Hell, you just didn't do something like that three hours before you were going to perform for a John!
Jamie told me to sit down on the bed, and I did. He talked to me, never taking his hand off his cock never taking the bottle out of his ass. He had a dildo sitting on the bed-stand, a Jar of Vaseline resting near the pillows, and all kinds of dirty pictures lying around. I started getting a hard-on just looking at the scene (I'd never made it with him. In fact, it was the first time I'd seen him naked).
What happened was a lesson for me. Jamie said, "I heard you come in and I just couldn't get my breath to call to you. You think I'm nuts, huh? Man, I'm having a ball. Something I haven't had in months. I thought about that creep I was supposed to see tonight and I called Phillip and told him to get Hemingway or someone I had a cold ... "
Thanks, Jamie. I was "Hemingway," you remember but Phillip knew I wasn't the john's type. Thank God.
Anyhow, Jamie continued, "I was horny. Honest to Jesus horny. I turned on the stereo, took off my clothes, took a long hot bath with bubbles, and played with myself."
By the looks of his reddish cock, he'd been doing quite a job of it.
"Then I pulled out every photo I have that's ever turned me on and savored each one of them, really getting my head into each one, and stopping just before I came. Christ, I've been going at it for hours. I put my finger up my ass-I haven't been fucked in weeks-and then when I finished the Coke I was drinking, I shoved the bottle up my ass and moved it around with my foot, like this ... " He pressed his heel against the bottle, moving it in his ass, drawing his legs up and spreading them wide. "When you came in, I was just concentrating on looking at my cock just staring at it, getting off on it. I am spending Saturday afternoon doing nothing but beating off, and I can't tell you how fucking fantastic it feels!"
"You turned down one of Phil's best customers Just to jerk off?" I asked.
"Goddamn right. See this?" He looked at his cock and moved it in his hand. See it? Jesus, I was mesmerized by it. I'd been balling older women recently and the sight of a twenty-two-year-old naked in front of me was pretty exciting.
He went on: "I suddenly realized how important my cock really is to me, for a change. Not to a guy who's flipping three bills for it. For me. I've had an afternoon of doing what I wanted, doing what pleased me, living my fantasy for a change instead of someone else's, looking at the porno I want to look at, sticking a dildo up my ass, watching myself do it in the mirror, putting the bottle up my ass ... "
"Jesus, Jamie," I said, feeling my cock try to rip out of my jeans. He was stroking his beautiful dick the whole time he was talking to me.
"And you know what, Hemingway? I haven't felt so good inside for months, so fucking sexy. I had no one to please but myself, and I'm gonna come like I haven't come ... ?" in years ... wanna join?"
At first I wasn't going to, because he d been getting off on the fact that it was private, that he had no one else to please other than himself, and his cock. But he invited me and who was I to decline an invitation? Besides, I had an invitation of my own sitting inside my shirt pocket one invitation deserved another.
We did masturbate together. I knelt on the bed facing him and we just stared at each other's cocks until we shot all over each other. It was wonderful because we didn't aim to please each other, we just pleased ourselves.
Later, we went to the opera, and loved it. Then we went back to his apartment, and my cock took the place of the Coke bottle in his ass and it was wonderful.
But that isn't the point. What I learned from Jamie that day was that sometimes, no matter what you do in life, whether you hustle or work in a foundry or sell flowers, you have to take the time off to please yourself. You need time to have sex alone with yourself. You need those moments when you are your own lover and your cock is all the cocks in the world. Surround yourself with the things that turn you on-bubble bath, pornography, Vaseline, and Coke bottles helped Jamie have a good day. Use your vibrator. Maybe you have one of those plug-in suction things that beats you off automatically; if you do and it turns you on, use it. Do you like the spray of water on your balls, like to imagine you're lying under a tropical waterfall? Lie back in the tub, turn the warm water on slowly, slide your ass under the faucet, close your eyes, and-welcome to Tahiti.
Do what Jamie did-take time out from life to make love to yourself. You must love yourself to be able to give love to others; one great way of proving it is to allow yourself the time and energy to masturbate as fully as possible.
Don't overdo it-or you'll find yourself going limp the next afternoon when the guy you met on the beach invites you to his place. But don't cut yourself off from it, either. Set your time, set your place, set your pace. Take your cock in your hand and give yourself pleasure. It'll help you give pleasure to others.
But there are so many things you can do to increase your sensual awareness, to create an aura of sexiness around yourself. One of the most important aspects of sexuality is clothing.
Why does the guy down the street, who wears the same jeans and plaid shirt as you do, seem to get all the gorgeous numbers? Take a close look. See how close the shirt hugs his body? Notice how yours has wrinkles? See how his pants fit perfectly, rounding out his smooth ass cheeks, clinging tightly down his thighs, holding his crotch just the right way? See how yours tend to bag all over? The secret is finding clothes that fit you. There are about a hundred different brands of jeans, and they are all cut differently. Some men only wear certain brands. A friend of mine swears by Faded Glory, and he looks great in them-he's tall and slim, and Faded Glory makes clothing especially for tall and slim people. He can't wear Levi's, he looks terrible in them. How'd he find out? He shopped around and took a good hard look in the mirror.
Same with shirts. I don't care if you're buying your clothing at Sears or at Lord & Taylor, if you don't find the right fit, you're going to look terrible. Fitted body shirts fit bodies, but not all bodies. Is your stomach a bit large? Notice how the buttons tend to pop open when you sit down. You have love handles alongside your hips? Do they show in the shirt? If they do, forget that shirt and get one that hangs out of your jeans and makes you look more attractive.
Clothing should enhance the way you look. Clothes may make the man, but there has to be a man there already, one ready to be made. Your body should be in shape for your age and height. Let's assume it is. Then dress accordingly. If casual stuff is your bag, search for the right fit. Know your limitations. If you're very short, chances are you'll look dumpy in large bell bottoms, Frye boots, and a sweatshirt. Try a form-fitting T-shirt, tapered denims, and lighter shoes.
Dress for your age, too. I think there's nothing sillier 'than a sixty-year-old man trying to look twenty-four. Don't try to dress like the kid you're trying to pick up; if he wants someone who dresses like a California surfer, he'll find a California surfer (they're always in season). Dress to suit your age and your awareness of yourself as a person. Perhaps you come home from the office, where you were dressed attractively in a tapered suit, beautiful soft shirt, and tie, and you change into an outfit that's currently in fashion-meaning what all the young guys are wearing. Why is it that you can't seem to get anyone attracted to you? Have you tried going out in the same suit you wear to the office? You'd be surprised how many fashionably dressed guys prefer to go home with someone unlike themselves. Business suits can be attractive, if you know how to wear them. Some men can wear suits, but they look terrible in tuxedos. Some can wear bikini trunks on the beach, and others just can't. What you must do is become aware of what you can and cannot wear, and then make the clothing you select work for you.
Most men can wear jeans. This is the age of denim, and there are so many kinds to choose from that you'll almost always find a pair that'll make you look sexy.
Speaking of jeans, I got a letter from a boy in Nevada who asked:
I see all these great-looking dudes in faded jeans and I can really see the outline of their cocks, and I don't think they're bigger than me. How do you get to show a basket? How come the basket area seems lighter than the rest of the jeans? Do they bleach them? Sometimes I think the dude's dick is going to just rip right through the material. It's a super turn-on for me, and I'm hung pretty well and I want to look like that, too. But for some reason I just don't seem to look like I've got anything down there ...
To show a basket or not to show a basket, that is the question. Sometimes it's not possible. It has to do with cock size. When the penis is soft, it bears no relation to its size when it's hard. I'm an example of that. When I'm soft, I'm really kind of small compared to how I get when I'm hard. Other guys I know have big dicks when they're soft, and they don't get much larger when they have erections.
It depends on your balls, too. I have big balls. It's just a fact, that's how I was made. Sometimes when I'm wearing tight pants, it's more balls than cock showing (unless I'm walking around with a semi-hard-on). If your balls are small and your cock is small when soft, it won't be easy to show a basket, and so what? Granted, showing a bulge down there can be attractive, but that's not what sexuality is all about. I've seen many guys with huge baskets, the kind you want to get down on your knees in front of and say I don't believe this! But that's all they have-big cocks and nothing more. No personality, no brains, no sexual awareness at all. They're duds in bed because you find yourself making love with a prick and balls, not a person.
The kid who wrote the letter said he was pretty well hung, so let's assume he is. Why doesn't his cock show? Why won't a basket magically appear? He had to work at it, and I don't mean stuffing sweat socks down there. Underwear is important. If some guys wear it, they won't show a basket. For others, if they want to show what they have down there, they must wear undershorts, and they have to shop around and find which shorts show them off the best, which kind lifts their cock and balls and holds them up in front. As I mentioned, certain brands of jeans (and regular pants) will help you show off everything you've got, while other brands will hide you completely.
Shop around if you want a good pair of basket pants. Try them on with underwear, and without. Nothing? Try another brand. Try a smaller size. Remember, after you get them home and wash them, they're going to stretch a bit. They'll shrink first, but they'll start to move out after an hour or so, so buy them tight. You'll have to be the judge of how you want to look-if you don't wear undershorts (or if you wear the form-fitting new boxers), you'll have the basket that fills one side of your pants legs, the kind where you can just about see the detailed outline of your cock. If you choose undershorts that hold you up, you'll have a nice bulge under the zipper and usually to one side of it.
And how do you get the bulge to look as though it's gonna rip open? That's done simply by rubbing sandpaper over the area and giving the jeans a good bleaching. When you get the jeans home from the store, fill the bathtub half full of really hot water (unless the jeans are already bleached out). Pour in about a quart of bleach and stir it around. Lay the pants in the water and keep moving them around every few minutes. You'll see the water getting darker and darker, and that's how you judge when to take them out-the darker the water, the lighter the jeans. Put them in a pail and take them right to the washing machine and give them a good cleaning, with fabric softener. When they're dry, put them on and move around in them, stretch them to hug your body. That alone can give you a hard-on ... there's something about soft denim that gets to you-proof of that is that most of us would part with our lives before we'd part with our favorite pair of Jeans. Anyhow, take a look at the way the jeans came out. If you want the basket softer and more noticeable (meaning you want guys to look between your legs before they gaze into your 'beautiful eyes), then take sandpaper and rub slightly over the outline of your cock ... then wash the pants again. You can do the same to the ass. (I think giant white spots over your cock is a bit much, but I like seeing the back end of jeans look as though they've been worn thin. That can be easily accomplished by sandpapering them. Or by starting at one end of the block and moving on your ass to the other end. But this is only my preference; you do what suits you.)
Sometimes I think we fall in love with the jeans and not the person. It's amazing the magic influence denim has over us. It's everywhere now. American Motors has sold hundreds of thousands of Gremlins decked out with Levi interiors (I have a friend in Chicago who has one, and she says the interior is "heavy dyke." One of her gay girl friends told her she almost had an orgasm just riding in it). There are denim bedspreads, dart boards, boots, belts, wallets, and backgammon sets. But the most fascinating denim in the world is the denim on the lower half of a guy, those ass-packed, cock-filled, tight and worn jeans.
Remember: If you're going to wear jeans, keep your weight at the right level. We do live in the age of skinny as well as the age of denim (maybe they're the same thing). There is no excuse for being overweight. If you are you're already losing some of your sexual aura. Lose those extra pounds or stop packing yourself into jeans. You'd look much more attractive in other styles of pants until you get rid of those rolls around the middle and the flabby ass.
A good way to keep up with the trends and styles is to glance at the fashions in magazines like Gentlemen's Quarterly, Penthouse, Playboy, Qui, Esquire, After Dark. They'll let you know what's coming up on the fashion scene. Another way is merely to keep your eyes open. Window shop, and I don't mean for baskets. When you're in department stores, check out the new arrivals. Get to know a clerk who dresses sharply and let him help you find the kind of clothing that fits your personality and body. Caftans are fine on certain men. You may try one and find you look like Shirley Bassey. Well, great, if that's your objective. So get out there in your caftan and sing "Goldfinger." But if that's not what you're after, put it back on the rack-and go look at the walking shorts and light summer jackets; they're just as acceptable for beach or pool wear as a caftan.
Get to know the kinds of things you always look good in, no matter what refinements the current trend makes. You may find you sweat to death in permanent press shirts because of the way they're treated-stop buying them and learn to iron the wrinkles out of the cotton ones. Sweaters may be nice and warm in the winter, but if certain styles make you look short and dumpy, avoid them. You may want shoes with some platform (not too high; they're dangerous and we're well past the Super Fly influence). If they hurt your feet, the hell with them. If you want to feel taller, if you like the way they look and feel, wonderful. Take your time and find out. Choose only what helps you to look and feel better. There's nothing worse than looking great and feeling completely uncomfortable.
I live in California now, and out here anything goes; there is no dress code. For instance, you can go to a concert at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and see a man and wife in evening dress sitting next to a couple in sandals and jeans. Behind them sit two guys in what looks like bathing trunks under floppy beach pants, and behind them a woman in a mink coat. It's crazy here, and I like it that way. I always feel a little uptight in New York and Chicago, where you still have to conform to certain styles when you go certain places. But California has a great influence on the rest of the country, and I think the whole country will soon be as informal and personal as you want it to be.
Jewelry is now very much in. A friend of mine was kidded by his Uncle Jim five years ago at Christmas when he showed up wearing a silver chain around his neck and a bracelet with turquoise in it. Uncle Jim (in Wisconsin) laughed at him, but somehow forgave him because he was from Los Angeles. Well, this past Christmas, back home again in Wisconsin, Uncle Jim walked in wearing a gold chain around his neck, and a beautiful gold bracelet. His daughters had bought it for him. My friend got a good laugh out of it, and said, "If my Uncle Jim is wearing jewelry back there in Oshkosh, then glitter has arrived."
And it has. Men's departments now have jewelry counters. Remember when they didn't even have a separate department for men's colognes? Times change rapidly. I like the freedom wearing jewelry gives men, even though I don't wear any myself (I just don't like it on me). Any accessory can become part of your sexual personality. Making love to a guy who is wearing nothing but a beautiful gold chain around his neck can be very exciting, especially when you feel that chain moving over your balls as he sucks your cock, or when you take it in your mouth as you lick his neck and shoulders.
Cock rings. Can we call them jewelry? I think so. An old friend, a guy I knew from hustling days in New York, called me the other day to wish me a Happy New Year. I asked him what he got for Christmas. He told me a sterling silver cock ring. And he's hoping for a gold one next year. Cock rings were nothing more than sex toys until about a year ago, when the women's magazines like Playgirl and Viva featured them and carried ads for them. Suddenly they went from part of the S&M regalia to the straight world, though they're still used primarily by gay guys. I've had a lot of letters asking me what they actually do and where to get them. Cock rings fit tightly around the base of the penis and under the testicles. When you're wearing a cock ring, your cock will stay hard longer because the tightness of the ring keeps the blood in the penis, not allowing it to go soft. You will be bigger for a longer period of time, and there's the added thrill of knowing you're wearing a piece of jewelry down there. Some rings are made of leather which feels wonderful, some of steel (the most popular);' others are of precious metals, and. I don't doubt that there are diamond-studded cock rings in existence.
Where to buy them? Check ads in magazines. Sex toy stores. Sex shops. Leather shops that cater to gay customers. S&M shops and mail-order houses. If you have the bread walk into Cartier and ask them to make you up a special one. It should be a riot to see, the salesperson taking the measurements. The way they re catching on, Bloomingdale should have them in about six months.
A funny thing happened to a guy I know. He was on his way to Miami and, as he walked through the metal detector at the airport, the bells went off and the buzzer sounded. He got mad-he was late. Quickly he took his jewelry off and his belt 'buckle and put his loose change in the plastic cup provided. He tried it again, but once again, he rang dem bells. Finally, he realized what it was. Imagine having to explain a steel ring around your cock! Don't wear them in airports unless you want to cause a riot.
A good tip for finding the right size clothing, and maybe saving a few bucks, too, is to shop in the boy's department, or the college shops in the major department stores. If you're slim, you'll find bargains and some terrific pieces of clothing.
All this emphasis on being slim. Well, I like it, and most everyone I know is into losing weight. There just isn't any such thing as being too skinny these days. Is there more emphasis on being slim in gay life? I don't really think so, though gay men are more body-conscious, and tend to put more emphasis on appearance and grooming. Dieting is important, not only for keeping the pounds off, but for health as well. I believe in vitamins as a supplement. I like "health foods," but I love a good meal of steak and salad and potatoes also. I try to balance my diet so that it's right for me. As long as you're healthy. I know two guys who are vegetarians, and one is in the best of health but the other looks as though he won t make it up the hill I live on. Obviously, for the first guy being a vegetarian is fine, but something's wrong with the second. Choosing what you eat is as personal and subjective as choosing the correct clothing. Pick the right outfit for your appearance, and pick the right foods for your health.
Health is so much more than physical. It's inside you, as well, in your head. It's part of your sensual awareness. You can do the wildest, kinkiest things in bed and be sexually healthy. You can be a bore in bed, do little except fucking and sucking, and be sexually unhealthy. It isn't what you do in bed, it's how your whole self accepts your sexuality. You must embrace it. Your sex life should be the greatest vitamin pill you take. It should be a key to satisfaction in all areas of your life. If you're happy, really happy sexually, that glow will invade and better your entire life.
Your outward grooming usually says something about the way you feel as a sensuous person. Are you sloppy about your looks because you don't think you're a good lover, that no one is going to bother looking at you anyhow? I hope not. Taking care of yourself, making yourself look good, shows you like yourself. And if you don't like yourself, how will you ever grow to like other people? How can you think of making love to someone else if you don't first love yourself? If you have a beard, take care of it, trim it to suit your face, your bone structure, and keep it clean. Learn to use it sensually. Rub it up and down your lover's cock. Tickle his ass with it. Let him bite on it and run his fingers through it. Rub the tip of your cock against his mustache, use it to comb those beautiful whiskers above his lips. If your hair is long, use it as a whip on his ass, or if it's curly, rub your whole head between his legs. Ears are always part of making love. Make sure they're clean. Teeth are an even more important part. Take care of them, so you can run them up and down his strong hard cock, so you can suck his balls into your mouth without taking a bite out of him. Cleanse your face regularly so when he kisses you, he'll want to lick your cheeks and your nose and your eyelids and kiss you all over. Think of putting his soft penis against your face after he comes. You'll want your skin to be smooth and soft. Find a razor that doesn't tear your face. Find the after-shave cream that soothes and leaves the kind of scent you want.
Taking care of yourself will make you more appealing, a better lover, and a better person.
But taking care of yourself outside isn't everything; how about inside? What kind of fears and problems lurk, even within the most open homosexual? You're afraid of falling in love, afraid of all the others out there, all that other meat in the market. You're afraid of growing older, afraid of permanent relationships, or afraid to break off a permanent relationship. Maybe you're afraid of women, or of very effeminate gays because you can't seem to compete with their quick wit. You're afraid you won't be able to get an erection when you get back to your apartment, now that you've finally gotten the kid you've been cruising for weeks. You're afraid your lover won't understand if you try to explain that you're not getting as much satisfaction from your sex life together as you once did and you'd like to try a few new things. You're afraid the new things are too kinky for his taste. Perhaps you're afraid to tell your parents you're gay, and yet feel the need to do so. Or maybe you're afraid to admit to your gay friends that you've been seeing a girl. Maybe you're afraid of the dark.
We all have fears; some are real and some are unfounded. Fears do a terrible thing-they put us into a holding pattern emotionally, sometimes even physically. We're locked in a vacuum. What to do? First, know that you'll never be free of all fears, none of us ever will be. I think it's human to fear being rejected or being hurt. Just accept the fact that having these fears is a part of life, and go with that, live with it, or despite it. It's part of embracing everything in your personality, and making it work for you. If you take your fears and understand them, you'll be getting yourself together. Some you will conquer, and some will stay with you. You have to take chances, remember. No one said life is easy. So, you just have to hope that you won't be hurt, you won't be rejected. You won't know if you have the capacity to be hurt unless you open yourself up to someone to such a point that you are vulnerable but isn't it better to take that chance? Isn't it better to take the chance of joining your life to someone else's by going out to meet him than to sit at home worrying about him rejecting you? I've been hurt and I've been rejected, but I always go back for more love, for more experience. I won't let myself become callous and withdrawn just because something didn't work out. It's important to give yourself to another person. I hope you won't get hurt. But whether or not that ultimately happens isn't important now. What is important is that you stay fresh and open and loving in all your relationships, and no matter what the ultimate outcome, never close yourself off from loving. Without loving, there is no making love.
There is a great fear of competition in gay life. You have to tell yourself (and believe it) that you're just as good-looking as the next guy. He's got a bigger cock and a better build. So what? You've got a bigger brain and brilliantly beautiful eyes. You've never noticed? Look in the mirror. Yes, do that, look in the mirror-really look. See all the little things about yourself that only your lover sees. The eyes, their real color, their depth. Look at your eyebrows. Hold up another mirror and take a look at what all those guys standing behind you at the bar see-the back of your head. Yeah, that's really what you look like. Study some pictures of yourself. See how good you really look? Fear of competition? Hell no, you can take on the world.
Some people can't take the competition, I realize. As a hustler, I am often a mother and lover and analyst and friend with a shoulder to cry on. People get lost, confused, ruined in that big thing called the real world. They run to sex for a release. I always wish they wouldn't take life so seriously. A friend of mine used to say, "Make a decision, do your best, but don't ever take it too seriously." Life is a wonderful thing, why make it unnecessarily difficult? Competition can be a good and healthy thing if it makes you strive to do better, whether it's in business or in bed. But you can't let it cause tension and stress and anxiety.
If you do get to the point where you feel you can't cope any more, have the courage to do something about it. Quit that job. Go ahead and take that backpacking trip up the river that you've always dreamed about. Buy a piano if you've always yearned to play. Make changes. Discover hidden talents, do things you once thought would remain fantasies forever.
You must survive. Being gay, you'll probably have a few extra problems and fights to win on the way, but you must survive. You have to do what you have to do. If your father taught you all about the business and turned it over to you and is proud and happy you're taking it over, but you hate it, loathe it, can't stand another day of it, then screw it. Just say fuck it and toss in the towel. You have to like what you're doing to do it well! You have to like dry cleaning to be able to live with the fact that you're a dry cleaner. If you hate selling shoes or waiting on tables, you'll wind up stuffing a black patent leather pump into some broad's big mouth or dumping the Caesar salad into some creep's lap. Change before it gets to that.
Oh, fears. Don't be afraid of growing old. Grow wise and mature but never old. I know old men who are in their twenties and it's sad. I know a few men in their sixties who seem younger than I am. Age is meaningless. It's your spirit that makes you seem old or young, and even though the body grows older, the spirit can always remain young.
You're afraid of getting him. Once you have him, you're afraid of losing him. Don't think about it so much. Rather, concentrate on the magic and mystery of your relationship, the beauty of your lovemaking, the pleasure you take in each other. Losing each other shouldn't even be a consideration. The possibility is always there somewhere, but don't think about it. Thinking about it makes you anticipate it. If your lovemaking grows boring and uninteresting, start changing gears. Try some of the things I suggested in the first portion of this book-new positions, new Ideas, talking out your fantasies, masturbating in front of each other, fucking on the ironing board, whatever you feel like doing and haven't done. If you re afraid of losing your lover because you feel you're not pleasing him sexually any longer, find out why you're not pleasing him and begin to turn him on like he's never been turned on before.
Lovers. Love. Falling in love. The greatest books have been written about lovers and loving. The best movies have had as their subject matter lovers and loving. And the finest songs deal with the same. The greatest thing in life is to be in love' it is the ultimate experience. But with it comes the greatest chance of suffering and pain you'll ever experience. Pain of the heart is worse than any stage of cancer. Love and pain and the whole damn thing.
I've been in love. You've read about my being in love. You've read about the hurt I felt and still feel. Did I close myself off to love after that? No. I'm in love right now, and I'll be in love tomorrow. I'll probably be hurt again, I don't know. I don't think about it. I don't want to cut yourself off I don't want to be cautious, I don't want to build up a wall around me. I want to be open and alive. Being in love is the most uplifting of human experiences. I don t think cleanliness is next to godliness, I think loving is.
People are meant to love and be loved. Isn't it unlike anything else to take him in your arms and hold him, kiss him, stroke his hair, rest his head against your chest, and whisper that you love him? What experience would you trade for that? And to hear him say the same to you as he wraps his arms around you and presses his body between your legs. Would your name in lights on Broadway or a million dollars mean as much? I doubt It. Love and be loved. You deserve both.
Chapter Two: TWO MEN-IN BED
Now that you've developed your gay sexual personality, finally realized your potential as a lover, and faced up to your fears, let's discuss techniques.
As I said before, sex manuals can't teach a person to be a good lover. And this isn't even a sex manual. I can't sit here and say, hey, look, guys, this is the best way to suck a dick and this is the nicest way to get fucked and so on. All ways are nice ways, all positions work best. How, when, where will vary with circumstances. What I can do, then, is suggest and tell you what I know and what I feel, hoping that some of it will be inspirational and helpful. Hell, maybe I'll get a letter from you telling me a way I've never tried before. I'm open to new ideas!
The first thing I want to say is don't plan your lovemaking as though you're starting to cook a seven-course meal. Sure, the evening may turn into a seven-course meal-three courses apiece and a mutual masturbation session for dessert. But don't structure it, don't decide what you're going to do first, second, and third, or that you'll end as the clock strikes twelve. You're not running a race, you're not on a time schedule. If you are, let it be spontaneous, if fast. Remember what counts is erotic awareness, of yourself and your partner.
Fellatio is the most prevalent act in homosexual lovemaking. Even with guys who are very into fucking, they usually begin with a little cocksucking. It makes sense we are males because of many things, but the most obvious one is that marvelous organ between our legs. The point of being gay, of having gay sex, is for one man to make love to another man, to share what makes them men. Sometimes the penis seems to have a power and life all its own. We can sit back in the bathtub, for instance, and watch our cocks move and rise and fall, shrink to something small, and grow to something awesomely large. When another male's organ is in your hand, how like yours it feels, and yet how different-you can feel its power and life bursting through your fingertips. We show affection through kissing-is it not natural, then, to want to kiss this wonderful part of his body? I can't think of an act more normal and natural than putting your lips over his penis and showing how much you love him. I don't think there exists a gay couple who has not known the joys of cocksucking; it comes easy. If you're new at the game and haven't done it yet, don't worry. Take a banana and slide it into your mouth and try not to really scrape it or bite it with your teeth. See how easy? That's all you have to know; he'll guide you along as you learn.
A few years ago someone asked me to write a short piece for a gay magazine, a picture magazine, on sucking cock. I was horny enough to do it, and I thought it would be good to include it here:
THE ART OF COCKSUCKING
There's a right way and a wrong way to do everything, right? I mean, if you're gonna suck cock, you should try to do it well. When I was just beginning to learn what pleased people sexually-I was living at Helen's brothel in Chicago at the time-I discovered that most any guy, straight or gay or In between, loves a good blow job. Note that I said a good blow job. Anybody can do without a sloppy, couldn't-care-less, loose-as-a-goose mouth on their dick. Better to use your hand with a little spit. But if you know how to render a firm-yet-tender, fun-but-serious, thoroughly enjoyable knob job, they'll wear a path to your door coming back for more. Or to your mouth, at least.
There are a few simple ingredients in my own suck-cessful recipe. First of all, you and your partner should be comfortable. Forget all the strange positions you've seen in magazines. Weird positions make for fun and excitement, but nothing can beat comfort when you're sucking somebody off. It may be great to do it in a tree or on top of a statue in the park, once or twice, but isn't a bed or a carpet by the fireplace or a soft meadow the place you keep coming back to?
Many guys, especially straight men, want to lie on their back with their hands behind their heads and watch you do all the work. That's okay, but that's not what I am into. If someone really wants me to blow them while they're on their back, I'll do it (if I'm getting paid, I'll blow them standing on their heads if they want). But my neck gets bred and that sometimes stops me from giving a long blow job, which is the best kind. Also, when I'm blowing someone whose lying on his back I have to be over him with my hands and knees, and I can't use my hands enough. I like to keep them free for other things. So, I usually turn the guy on his side or have him get up over me. It's important to always choose a position that makes you both comfortable.
The second ingredient to suck-cessful sex is the buildup. In other words, you don't just flop his cock out and suck it up to a hard-on. You get him hard first turn him on, make him want it ... before you ever go 'below the navel. If you ask how then it's obvious you're still in kindergarten, sexually speaking. Any accomplished oralist knows that you've gotta prime the pump if you expect to milk it dry. If he won't kiss, then you can always kiss him. If he's not into mouth-to-mouth, try his ears, on his neck, over his chest and nipples. When you notice his nipples getting erect, you know you're doing well, so keep it up.
Run your tongue over him, biting him with your lips and teeth just a little, working around his neck, near his lips, down over his chest, to his quivering stomach muscles. At the same time keep your hands busy. Rub the mounds of his ass, finger the crack, cup his balls, stroke his prick.
When you feel his dick starting to get hard, when you feel it beginning to throb, when you find it dripping a bit of the juice from the tip, that's your signal that he's grooving on what you're doing. Then it's okay to start teasing his cock with your tongue. Don't go down on his stiff, dripping flesh right away, much as you want to. Hold back, lick down the length, into the plush balls, and beneath them, below, into the sex zone down between the cheeks of his asshole. Then come back up and breathe on his cock. Yeah, breathe on it. You'll be surprised how much it will turn him on if you'll simply breathe your hot breath into his hard cock. You'll feel it twitch in excitement, begging you to take it in your mouth.
When you finally get down to business, be prepared to go nonstop until you strike a gusher. Sex has a rhythm which you build up and up, faster and faster, till POW, here comes the climax! Nothing will kill the rhythm like stopping at a crucial moment. Go after it like a dog after a bone-some bone!-and increase your speed and stroke as you go.
Take the stiff, dripping prick in your fist, squeezing it around the base, swelling the head bigger than before. Lick it like an ice cream cone. Up and down, all around, then slide it between your lips, slowly but surely. Your tongue is important here. Put it to work! Swirl it around, paying particular attention to the area underneath his cock where the glans joins the shaft. That's the most incredibly sensitive part. Well, you know that ... just reach down now and feel your own, right?
Now you begin to suck it in earnest. At last! But, believe me, it was worth waiting for. His pent-up prick will begin to respond as you go farther and farther down on it, faster and faster, sucking it with all your might. Here's another tip that'll help: as you go down on it, loosen your mouth and lips and breathe; then as you come back up the shaft, over the crown, suck it with all you have. Go all the way off the tip with a "smack." The sound effect will enhance and stimulate him. Remember, all this time you have your fist wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. Use your fist, too, in rhythm with your mouth action.
By now his prick should be responding nicely, oozing out his sweet pre-cum, stiffening in readiness, twitching in anticipation. Now all you have to do is increase your speed, sucking faster and harder, faster and harder, until he comes. And here it is, sooner than you expected. You'll feel him arch his back and stiffen his legs; you'll feel his prick grow brick hard in your sucking mouth.
At this point you should quickly take a deep breath and get ready because he wants you to drink his cum. Don't stop now! Keep up the same sucking and jacking rhythm, taking his spurting prick as deep in your throat as you can. Swallow the sperm as it shoots out. Only when his shooting off begins to subside should you slow down.
Finally, when there's no more cum left in him, move your mouth to the tip, kissing it, jacking it, licking it for a few moments. Then when it's over, throw your arms around him and rest your head in his crotch. I think the best bet is to wait for him to make the next move, and when he does, it'll probably be to pull you up in his arms and cuddle you. Or maybe he'll want to call it a night, and that's okay, too. Because when it's over, you know you did your best.
And you can bank on it ... he'll be back for more.
Well, as I said, I wrote that some years ago-one of my first attempts at putting words to paper-but I guess it still has some value. Cocksucking is one of the exquisite pleasures of life, whichever end you're on, and you should practice it as often as you get the chance.
The second "biggie" on the list of what a man does to a man is ass-fucking. It's another one of the great pleasure gifts we're given, but guys can get so screwed up in the head about it. There is still that thing called role-playing, though it seems to be dying off, thank God. It used to be commonly believed that all slightly nellie men got fucked and all butch types did the fucking. I think the gay liberation movement has had a lot to do with changing the prejudices within the gay community. It's helped people not only to come out, but to open up inside and be more honest. A truck driver can now openly admit that he loves to be screwed in the ass five times a night. And a delicate boy who even seems rather shy tells me the best lovemaking he does is pumping his cock in and out of another guy's ass. A few years ago we wouldn't have believed it.
Role-playing is fine. Playing any kind of game (that's what it is, after all) is fine. Play cops and robbers and you be the cop and you catch the robber (your partner) and force him down to your crotch to suck you off. It's a fun game, a holdover from childhood. Play cowboys and Indians and give all the Indians a blow job. (What do you think you-know-who was doing with Tanto all those years, huh?) Play army. Be the General (it's a good part). Have all the enlisted men drop their pants and offer their virgin asses to your lust. Play checkers and the loser gets fucked. Whatever.
The point is, if you like the role you're playing, fine. H you want to switch roles, do it. I know two guys who have been lovers for years. When they met, one was quite passive sexually, and the other very aggressive. It was interesting, because outside the bedroom they were exactly the opposite ... In any case, they went on like that for years, but the passive partner had a secret desire to fuck his aggressive lover. They went through all kinds of hell because of it, bitching at each other about everything but the thing that was really bothering them. The aggressive partner could sense something very wrong with their lovemaking. He blamed himself at first, then his lover and eventually, just lapsed into silence and gave his lover the cold treatment.
After a long stretch of dry bedroom games, they coughed up the truth to one another. The aggressive partner told his lover that he wasn't responding as he had before ... and asked if he wanted to break up, to find someone else, what? The passive partner admitted that it was only a matter of his desiring to get on top sometimes, and that he had been unable to even suggest it.
It turned out that the aggressive guy had been masturbating for years by sticking a finger or two up his ass. He wanted to know what it would be like to have done to him what he had been doing to his lover for so long. The passive guy admitted he'd masturbated with his fingers greased with Vaseline, trying to simulate the sensation of his cock entering his lover's asshole. Neither had any desire to be with anyone else. There was no reason for them to break up. But their dumb, slavish role-playing had almost ruined their relationship. Thank God, each of them was man enough to admit the truth before it was too late.
They're still together and they take turns, top and bottom, whenever they feel like it. Neither feels particularly passive or aggressive. But they both feel very loved.
Put it out of your mind right now that getting screwed in the ass is something less than masculine. You're a man, that's all the masculinity you need. Your asshole is a sensitive and important part of your body. It's a major erogenous zone. Your prostate, that gland tucked up inside you, can be massaged automatically while you're being fucked, creating wild and wonderful sensations all through you. There is a feeling of completeness when you're entered, especially by someone you love, a feeling of warmth and togetherness rarely matched in human passion. The explosion of his cum inside you, the stuff that makes him a man, is beautiful, and you have the power to keep it within your body for as long as you choose.
To fuck someone is a trip taken by both your mind and your penis. You enter his body, and you enter his soul. Peel the heat of his neck against yours as you push your cock into him. Peel his shivers, his pain, his pleasure. Peel his muscles open to let you in, and then the long slide which seems never to end as you put your body in his. Peel your balls hitting his as you move in rhythm. Do you hear him crying with joy and a sense of wonder? Let out a yelp; join him. Say what you're thinking, what you feel. Reach down under him and hold his cock in your hand, grope his balls, reach up and touch his nipples. Kiss him when he turns his head, feel your tongue inside his mouth, your cock inside him, and fill him with saliva and cum; feel your cock explode inside him as your mind explodes somewhere in the stars.
Most men are capable of fucking someone, physically. I mean, they get hard and it isn't too difficult to stick it where asked. I'm being basic, if a bit crude here, to make a point. There are some guys with psychological hang-ups that prevent them from fucking. It's a form of impotence, and there are many reasons for it, usually deep-seated. So we won't talk about that here. It's usually something for a doctor (or a hustler?) to work out with you.
But for most men it's rather easy to fuck. It's another story, however, 'when you're on the bottom. God did not build us all the same, even though we all have cocks and assholes. Were different in shape and size. There are the slimmest of men who can take anything up their assholes (and do). And there are sturdy, husky guys with big dicks who can't stand to have even a finger inserted in them. I'm not talking about a mental refusal; I mean the sheer physical pain is unbearable for them.
As with everything in life, you should try it to see if you like it. Anal intercourse for the first time will always be painful, and there are steps you can take to prepare for it-masturbate often, using a finger in your ass, working up to two or three. Use a vibrator or a small dildo, if you like. Get prepared for it mentally. The thing to do is to excite your mind; get wildly, crazily excited about this wondrous thing that is going to happen to you, mentally, but relax your body. The key to a successful fuck is to relax your muscles, to allow the penis to enter you and stay there, and to not tighten up so you feel unbearable pain. You will be tight enough just from the fact that it's your first time and you don't really grow loose with experience; that's an old fallacy, which should be buried. I know guys who have 'been getting fucked in the ass every day for years and they're still as tight as ever. It isn't easy to be shaking with excitement inside and not be able to express it outside; you can and will, once you're used to it. But for the first few times, you must take it easy, relax as much as possible, and bear with the pain. It will lead to unbearable pleasure.
If you're fucking your lover for the first time, understand what he's going through. Take time to build up to the actual penetration-hours, if necessary. Assure him of your love by understanding his needs. If it is too painful, stop and continue another time-so what if you have a great desire to fuck him, don't you have an even greater desire to please him? Be unselfish. Go slow and be gentle. Don't slam your cock in, in one fast lurch. You could do mental as well as physical damage. Be loving and aware, don't let passion run away with you. You may have to start again and again, until you find the position that suits you best, suits his body and yours. If he wants more, give him more. Listen to him. Only he can judge how much he can take the first few times, and you aren't raping him, you're making love to him. His body will tell you how much he wants, how fast, how hard, how long. Listen to his breathing and his body rhythm. Listen to his words when he talks to you. Urge him to speak, ask him how it feels, ask if you're hurting him, tell him you're just going to hold it inside him until he gets used to it before pushing it any deeper ...
There are so many incredible variations after you've mastered the basics. Masturbate him while your cock is still inside him. I remember the first time I did that. I was fucking a beautiful boy. His legs were up over my shoulders and he was facing me. He had a nice long, slim penis, and I stroked it with my hand as my cock moved in his asshole. "Let me come first," he said, near an orgasm. I'd never done that before-I was still young and naive in many situations. I thought it would be wonderful watching him come while his hand was down under us, holding my balls, while my cock was shoved all the way inside him. He let out a shout that shook the walls, yelling, "Fuck me, Grant, oh Jesus, fuck me!" I just held my cock all the way inside him and watched him squirt all over his chest and face. I pumped his dick like crazy, and all the time I could feel the contractions inside him, on my cock in his asshole, as each shot of cum squirted from the tip of his organ. It was a great feeling for both of us.
If you're fucking someone for the first time, lubricate your cock as well as their asshole. Do it with some flair, with some sense of romance. Don't suddenly interrupt your foreplay by opening a drawer, pulling out a jar of something, and fumbling with the cover, saying, "Listen, would you turn over a minute so I can grease your ass before we start fucking?"
Have the stuff ready. Tubes are better than jars. Use what you like, Jergens lotion, baby oil, Hawaiian Tanning Creme, axle grease, whatever. A fun way of getting ready to fuck is to fuck him with the tube of lubricant; stick the head of the tube in his ass and give it a good squirt. He'll like the jolt, the prefucking fucking. But for God's sake don't do that on the first date, unless you want him to leave in a hurry.
Positions are too numerous to list, and you may even find one that's not been discovered yet. The Kama Sutra is always being rewritten, in every bedroom on earth. There are ways of fucking standing up, sitting down, with one partner lying and the other standing. You can do it swinging from the limb of a tree, or while tied to a bed. I think the bondage thing is the ultimate in role-playing, and if a good game interests you, a good game of rape, go ahead and play it. We all like to fantasize that we're being held captive by some beautiful lover, being subjected to all sorts of debasing things, at least once in our lives.
You know, I think the key to the acceptance of the book, The Joy of Sex, was the bondage chapter. The repeated references to sex being not only okay while one of the partners is tied up, but actually enhanced by the action, really grabbed people. I think they wanted to read that in a major book about sex, they wanted to know that such a fantasy was good and healthy, and there it was, all over the pages (with drawings to enhance it). So, play games, dress in costumes if you want, call each other Butch Cassidy and Sundance. Do whatever turns you on.
And do it wherever you get turned on. In the yard, under the sun, provided you can fuck there without interruption. Doing it in wonderfully different (and sometimes dangerous) places can give a dull sex life an added jolt of electricity. On the docks. On a street in the middle of the city, late at night. In a taxi as you are being driven home from the Met. In the middle of the haystack, back on Grandpa's farm. In the men's room somewhere. In the dressing room, with the cute salesman who sold you those jeans.
Another feature of ass-fucking is that you can suck your partner's cock as you fuck him. To come together, you up his ass and he in your mouth, at the same moment, is such a delicious bond. Get on your knees, with him astride your thighs, his legs bent, his feet on the bed-his cock will be right there in front of you. All you have to do is bend down and take it in your lips. Enough said.
There's a position-an experience, really-that I mentioned earlier in this book, suggesting it for a man and a woman. I first tried it with another guy, however, and I think more gay guys will turn onto it than straights. I'm talking about fucking someone with your own cum. Get him wildly excited, lying face down on the bed, legs spread, with you kneeling between his legs, pumping your cock with your hand, holding the tip to his asshole. He begs you to enter him, to fuck him. He lifts his head and shoulders and cries out, you slap his ass a little, tell him it's coming, you'll put it in soon ... make him beg until you've teased him silly, and until you've brought yourself to an orgasm. Shoot right on his hot asshole, directly between the spread cheeks. He'll feel your cum and it will blow him away. He won't understand-for a moment he'll feel cheated, deflated, used-and then, suddenly, he'll see what you've been planning all along ...
Stick your cock up his ass as soon as you start to come. Your jism will be the lubricant and he'll feel your pulsating cock as it slides slowly up him, pumping shots of cream all along his anal canal. When you finally reach the hilt you'll have the whole length of your cock covered with hot cum. It's quite a sensation, quite a variation. It's a game, but a good one, and it harms no one. Try it sometime with a number who's very into getting fucked. He'll love it and want you to do it regularly. It's a trippy way to change pace. The first time I did it, the kid came just by realizing what was finally happening. Umm, good memories.
See, that's what lovemaking should bring, wonderful pleasure for the moment, and good memories after that.
I have good memories of so many sexual encounters. I remember my friend Jamie and I fucking the same guy at the same time. Our cocks sliding in his ass together, moving against one another. Jamie was lying on the floor, with the guy astride him, facing him. I slipped my cock in as I knelt between his legs and we went at it like that for an hour, with about three climaxes each. I remember having my ass made love to by a kid in Hollywood. At that time, I really needed bread badly and had to take what came along. This encounter was refreshingly different because the customer was young, good-looking, and gave me more than I usually got. But, most of all, it was good sex. I didn't have to perform at all. He paid me to give himself the pleasure of sucking my ass, rimming me half to death, but I think the pleasure was mine. I was literally tangled up in my jeans and jacket and the steering wheel and his head and arms and the door handles ... man, what a time. His thing was making love to my rear end (he also was a terrific cocksucker), and it was a pleasant diversion. Analingus is a great prelude to anal intercourse, and a fine way of providing lubrication. The natural way, I guess you would call it.
That makes me think of the time I had a guy come to me and ask for the biggest boy on my list. Biggest cock, he meant. So I sent him Jim. And I remember how Jim described it the next day-"He didn't want anything, nothing to make it easier. He was tight as hell. You know what he made me do? He made me aim the hair dryer at his asshole to make it dryer. I shoved my cock in and I swear it was like getting a rolled piece of sandpaper into another rolled piece of sandpaper. Christ, there was so much friction, I thought we'd start a fire."
Erotic language can help, no matter what you're doing, playing with your cocks, sucking, fucking, rimming, just looking at one another. In fact, maybe that's the best time-turn on by staring at each other's naked manly bodies across the room and talking dirty to each other. If you're playing games and you're the aggressive, dominant one, tell him how you want him to crawl on his knees and lick your ass. If you're on the other end of the stick, tell him how you want him to slam it into your mouth, tell him how much you want to please him. Ten the slave he's a little goddamn cocksucker and he's gonna get fucked up against the wall. Tell your master you worship his cock and ask to chew on his cock ring. Where else can you say such things-and not be put away or, at least, laughed at-other than in the bedroom with your lover?
Talking is a good thing; I've advocated it in this book already and in my first book, as well. Not only during sex, not only erotic language, dirty words. I've found that after sex, everyone wants to talk. Have a cigarette, relax, talk. It is therapeutic; after sex we feel drained and yet somewhere on a cloud. We are cleansed, relaxed. Our minds open a bit more to the truth and we're a tiny bit more vulnerable than we were earlier, or will be later. It is time to talk seriously, then.
While we relaxed after sex, people would tell me their problems, their sexual problems. They would also ten me how great our sex had just been, and how they wished I were "their husband or lover, etc. None of them really wanted me to take the place of their husband or lover; they just wanted the same satisfaction that we'd just experienced to happen in their own bedrooms with the person they really loved.
After sex is a good time to talk about your love life. Is it fulfilling, enchanting? Was it better for your lover than it was for you? If so, say so! Be honest. Talk about it. Air your frustrations. Tell each other how much you love one another. Wrap your hand around his softened cock, and just hold it in your palm as you talk, that sweet little bird which only a few minutes earlier had been a soaring eagle. Tell him how much you love him and how much you love his cock. If you've been together for a long time, reassure him that it felt like the day you met. If it's the first time, tell him how much you like him, tell him you want to see him again, tell him you want to fuck him again. Swap stories and laugh and have fun. Have a drink. Turn on the TV, play the new Streisand or Stones or Sills: Before you know it, you'll be making love all over again.
A word about lovers: I can't tell you how important I feel it is to give each other freedom, give each other privacy and moments alone, allow each other private friendships as well as mutual friendships, respect each other's needs and desires, including the need to be away from each other sometimes. Petty jealousies can come up over the most ridiculous things, and the only way you can make a relationship work is to be able to go off on your own, for an hour or a day, maybe even longer. When you return just hold him in your arms. No questions, no fights. He respects your needs, you respect his. But that hug tells him that you love him more than anyone in the world. Even without words.
I've had a lover, and it's been wonderful. It wasn't easy, after those first months of bliss, to realize that life had to go on and the honeymoon was over. People change, almost daily. Some things are constant; love is constant. Make it stay fresh and alive by giving each other freedom. Don't make your love possessive and smothering. It took me time to learn that, took time for my lover to learn that. And just learning it isn't enough, you have to fight to make it work, fight to keep from being petty and ridiculous. You have to trust like crazy, you have to believe and have faith. We did, and it worked out. It will for you, too.
I should mention that our relationship started in bed, which is as good a place as any I can think of for beginning a love affair. The sexual attraction led to mental and emotional attraction. We were silly enough to think it would continue forever that way, but we faced reality in time Be aware that your sexual appetite will not stay the same as it was the week you met. Making love is a necessary and wonderful part of a love affair, but it isn't the only part. No true relationship can exist on sex alone. It's possible even to have other sexual relationships-where there's nothing but sex involved-during the time you're in love with someone, during your relationship. Faithfulness is a nice practice for a while. For early on in the game. But it isn't realistic. Oh, I've known it to work and I'm always astonished that it does-sometimes, two people find each other and it works and keeps working. It's a gift, but most of us aren't usually blessed with it.
Unfaithfulness seems to be a big problem in gay life. It's the thing most couples break up over. Why let something like that ruin a substantial and beautiful relationship? Sometimes there is no need for your lover to know you've tricked with someone else. For all the honesty I preach, I'm smart enough to know in certain situations you can be too frank, too honest. Do not lie, however. There's the difference. If asked, if confronted, don't lie. But to come home and say, hey, I sucked off a guy today at the beach, is just asking for trouble. Know that both you and your lover probably will cheat. That's all. So what? I have always believed that some variety makes your sex life better. It can make you appreciate each other all the more, or give you the necessary release (fast, quickies in the park, a hot fuck in the car) that you just can't get with your lover. You're human, for heaven's sake. Human beings are promiscuous. But don't have a double standard; if it's okay for you to go out he should be allowed the same thing. Work it out in your own fashion, but with understanding and consideration for both parties.
You can make love to someone you don't even know it's easy and stimulating and satisfying-but remember how much more satisfying it is deep down inside when you are with your lover. Remember, too, that none of those tricks your partner has are any threat to you or to your relationship. They're fulfilling his physical needs, even some of his emotional needs. But he does come back to you. And he always will, as long as you love him and allow him to love you.
Well, you're there. You've got the right pair of jeans for your body, your cock is perpetually half-erect and often completely hard, you have tricks falling at your feet, and your life with your lover has never been so good, or so exciting. What does it mean? It means you finally are aware of your sexuality, of your power of sensuality. It means you're not only gay and proud, it means you're happy. People who make love more than war smile a lot.
I see you grinning.
PART THREE: A Woman and a Woman
This section of the book will be short. The reason is simple: I am a man, not a woman. I think only a woman could write this section the way it deserves to be written. Yes, I have known many gay woman, bisexual women, and yes, I have learned things from them and about them, but to truly talk about making love-woman to woman. I would have to have experienced it. And that is impossible.
So lean only talk about what I know. The first thing to remember is that love between two women can be as beautiful as the love between a man and a woman, or a man and a man. It's love between two people that is important, and their sex is of secondary importance. People who need people. The luckiest. People who have people. That's what it's all about. That's what Barbra was singing to us about. People. They also happen to be men and women; you're one or the other. People make love. To people. A guy and a girl. Two guys. Two women.
Two women. First, I admit I've been at fault a few times in my life-using the word "dyke" as if it connoted something awful. Sometimes it does, just as "faggot" can be used when you mean it. There are blacks and there are niggers, there are gay guys and there are faggots. There are gay girls and there are dykes. Aside from Helen, the woman who gave me my start in Chicago and who's remained my dear friend through the years, the first gay women I came into contact with were all the butch stereotypes, and that was unfortunate because I fell into the trap of pegging all lesbians as truck drivers who would just as soon bust you in the mouth as say hello to you. But I soon learned-grew up?-that my experience had been limited, and for every hard lesbian in a biker's jacket, there was a soft and feminine one, the girl-next-door. It's the same old story-the stereotypes are always the most visible and ... ' society labels all gay people as effeminate or butch or nellie and ...
On and on. It's always amazed me how many people get turned on by photographs and stories of girls making love to one another (especially straight men), and then turn around and put down lesbians so violently. There seems to be a growing tolerance of gay guys, and it should follow that the same tolerance of gay women would prevail, but it doesn't seem to be happening. Our society still finds lesbians unacceptable and wants to ship them all off to Lesbos together. We look the other way and, of late, even give our blessing to the gay guys. Is it because they're gay and proud and out in the streets more than their sisters? Is it some deep-seated psychological thing dealing with the fact that two men can at least penetrate one another the same act, basically, as in "straight" sex-and women cannot? I don't know the answer and wouldn't want to guess. But I think we persecute gay girls a hell of a lot more than gay guys, and it isn't fair. All in love is fair, all is fair in love. When are we going to learn that?
I'm not going to go into a lecture about fighting gay fears and overcoming them, or about coming out. This book is called Making Love and it's about the time after you've realized your sexual preference, after you've come to terms with yourself sexually, after you've become what you really are deep inside, when you're finally downright honest with yourself. Now is the time to become bisexual, to understand your possibilities and power as a truly fine and loving lover.
I remember the first time I really watched two women making love. Perhaps this story should be in the Woman/Man/Woman section, because my presence made me a participant, but describing their scene is the closest I can come to writing realistically about two women and their lovemaking. Actually, I did little active participating, because I was new at the game and stunned by the beauty and excitement of what was happening in front of me. The girls weren't really anxious for me to join them, either, because they were very much into each other.
I was watching because I knew one of the girls, Lacey. She worked for Helen and became my good dear friend. When she told me about her woman lovers, I always got an erection just listening to her. I wanted to see it. I wanted to see what two women did to one another. I knew Helen was gay. I knew her current girl friend at the time. I wondered what they did in bed. I really didn't know. It was very easy for me to imagine what two men did because I'd already done most everything with my friend, Kent. I certainly knew what a man and a woman did. But two girls, it seemed a mystery ... neither of them had a penis, how could they please each other? Did they hold each other in their arms like men did? Did they lie in a sixty-nine position? Did they press their breasts together? I had so many questions.
So Lacey invited me into her room one afternoon just as the sun was going down. She was with Anne, a beautiful, almost regal-looking woman in her late thirties. I'd seen Anne at the house many times before, and she'd been the subject of one of my fantasies-I'd often thought about Lacey making love to her. I think Lacey figured that out and called me in with Anne, rather than with another woman, because she knew of my strange attraction to her. Anne was pleasant to me, cordial, but removed. She was completely into women and had little use for a man certainly not someone as young as I.
But she was willing to make love in front of me. She adored Lacey, her smooth, young, brown-skinned body, and would do anything Lacey wanted. And Lacey wanted me to watch.
I curled up in a big chair across from the bed. Anne was already undressed and under the covers, smoking. She said nothing to me, but Lacey said something to her like, "We're going to turn him on ... and he can't have either of us ... " That excited Anne. I remember she reached up and lifted Lacey's slip and slipped her fingers into her little panties. She pulled her next to the bed and stared up at her, blowing smoke into her face. Lacey just smiled and then slowly bent over so the woman could kiss her. I felt a ripple of excitement shoot through me. Lacey bent over and I saw her panties sliding down over her smooth buttocks. Anne kissed her and finally brought Lacey's panties up to her face and nestled them against the nape of her neck. Lacey slid her slip over her head and stood naked in the room. Anne stared in adoration.
Then Lacey pulled the covers back and I saw Anne's body, firm and ripe. She had large breasts, huge nipples, a thatch of hair between her legs so thick you couldn't see her cunt, and a strong, dominating body. Lacey fell to the bed and kissed her again and I marveled at the fact that two women were stroking each other's hair, moving their bodies close together, two women were making love. I brought my legs up and put my hands down between my legs to feel my erection in my pants. I was speechless and lost in wonder.
They kissed each other everywhere! Lacey moved her lips over Anne's body, giving her a mouth massage. She kissed her breasts, alternating between them, quickly moving her lips from one nipple to the other. She tickled Anne's belly button with her tongue. She buried her face between her legs as Anne cried out in ecstasy, lifting her legs, spreading them. Then down to her feet, the little kisses, sucking her toes, coming up her backside as she turned over, the lovely black girl kissing every inch of the pure white body. She lovingly licked the cheeks of her ass, then spread them with her fingers, and then kissed her there, and there was another cry of pleasure. Lacey moved up the small of Annes' back, running her hands under to cup her breasts, and kissed her neck, her chin, and finally her lips as the woman turned over again.
Then Lacey fell back into the quilts and covers. And Anne showed me that she, too, knew how to please another woman.
She kissed Lacey on the lips and wiggled a finger up her pussy, slowly, driving her mad with passion, mad with the desire to be fucked by her. It became clear to me that woman can fuck. Who needs a cock? They can use their fingers, their toes, their tongues. They can use toys and vibrators to accent their own bodies' natural appendages. Anne slid two fingers into Lacey, and then three. She knew exactly how to do it. Exactly! Only a woman knows how to truly give another woman pleasure, the saying goes. Same for two men. And there may be a whole lot of truth in that. Anne knew how it felt when three fingers were inserted in her vagina, and just the way she liked them to be placed inside her, for the ultimate in pleasure. So she translated that to Lacey's body and did to Lacey what she liked to have done to herself. She brought her lips down to nibble on Lacey's pussy lips as her fingers still remained inside the girl. I would never have thought of that! She inserted a finger into Lacey's asshole at the same time. Her lips, tongue, fingers were all working, all adding to the girl's pleasure, and Anne's, too. (And mine, too-l was sitting there in rapture with my cock bursting in my pants).
They rolled over and over on the bed, kissing, licking, purring like two kittens, moaning and screaming with the ecstasy of orgasm. Lacey sat over Anne's face and watched the girl lick her pussy, watched her make love to it. Anne , put her lips between Lacey's thighs at the same moment Lacey put her lips against the hairy mound of Anne's cunt. They were lying there on the bed, their faces pressed against each other's pussies, their hands holding tightly to each other's buttocks, their bodies sweating, their tongues driving deep inside one another. It was incredible to watch, and so beautiful.
I was stunned, not only because it was my first time or because they were such gorgeous women, but because what they were doing was honest. They were pleasing each other in the most basic and natural way one person can please another-through their bodies. Anne and Lacey used every inch of their bodies to give each other pleasure. They gave nothing less to it than a man and a woman together would have. But the important thing is not the body. The important thing is the emotion, the feeling inside that inspires you to physically make love. Anne and Lacey felt it and expressed it, and that's why I got an erection and finally came in my pants. Not only because they were naked and moving in all sorts of positions on the bed together. That was part of it, but it was more-it was sexual and it was sensual, and the physical pleasure all of us felt came from the vibrations, the electricity in the air. And that electricity came from the heart, the soul, not only the body.
Lacey told me later, after I'd changed my pants, that she could have done all those things with another woman and I would not have been as excited as I'd been. I asked why. She said it was because she really felt something for Anne, and their lovemaking was honest and had a completeness about it that didn't exist with others. She convinced me that even though the physical aspects of the act would have looked the same, the power of the scene, would not have been the same.
I believe that, in all relationships, the greatest sensual pleasure comes from deep within. I'm not sure if gay women actually have longer-lasting affairs than gay men, but that point is always mentioned. I'm not sure they have less casual sex, either, than their male counterparts, but that too is often said. I do think gay women tend to be more emotional and see their relationships, even bedroom relationships, in terms of feelings first, physical pleasures second.
And how does a girl become a sensual homosexual? Just the way a guy does, just the way any person becomes a sensual human being. There is an awareness, a love of self, a love of others, a delicate quality-which is so inherently feminine and at the same time so very strong and manly, that makes you believe you are the best lover in the world and each and every woman, no matter how experienced or attractive she is, could be captured by you in a minute. Making love is a state of mind, not a state of body. You don't need firm breasts. You don't need big breasts. You don't need slim hips. You don't need to wear dresses. You don't need to wear pantsuits. All those external things are trappings; the real you is the one inside, and that's where sensuality comes from.
I observed something about Anne: she carried herself well in every sense. When she was being dominating and aggressive in bed, she was the leader, the conqueror, there was no doubt. Yet when she was the slave to Lacey's passion, she was passive and soft. Outside the bedroom, she was something of both. She was a strong woman, but there was nothing very masculine about her. She was beautiful and yet, she didn't come off as a dumb broad. She knew herself and knew her role as a person; in the bedroom she was able to assume whichever role was required or desired at the particular moment. She knew herself well, and she was sexier because of it.
Role-playing has to do with all relationships, with all lovemaking. It happens; sometimes it's consciously planned (to the point where costumes and scenarios are furnished); sometimes it's improvised. The bedroom is a good place to play games, a constructive place to play games, and when put into perspective role-playing can be stimulating, exciting, fun, fulfilling.
But gay women worry, too, just as gay men do, about role-playing outside the bedroom. Am I expected to be passive all the time because my lover is more butch than I am? Or, if I like to strap on a dildo and give my lover what she wants, do I have to act the role and be dominating all the time? No, to both questions; only if you want to. If dressing as a construction worker and smoking cigars and being "on top" in bed suits you, then that is the right thing for you, the right role, the right position in your relationship. If being a baby-doll-like girl makes you happy, and pleases your lover, then it's right and fine for you. But don't think gay relationships have to have a dominating and passive force. You can both be aggressive, both be passive. If you both happen to feel particularly aggressive on the same night, it can make for fireworks in bed. If you decide to play roles, always know you're doing it. Stay on top of it, as it were. It only becomes a problem when you lose sight of what you're doing. That's where the unhappiness sets in, the frustration-you're not doing what you really want to do, you're playing a role. So do something about it before you lose your lover and your identity, too.
Once again, I want to tell you about a letter I received from a girl in high school. She wrote that she knows she's gay, that she's been attracted to women as long as she can remember, and she currently has a crush on one of her. teachers. Whether she remains gay all her life or not doesn't matter; it's how she feels right now, and she seems to have come to terms with it.
The reason she wrote to me was that she wasn't sure how to express herself in bed. She had read and heard me talk on TV about making love to someone of your own sex, and she said I seemed so "natural about it, as if you thought it was like walking along a beach as the sun set or something." She didn't realize, I think, that she captured what it's all about right in those words. Making love is as natural as walking along a beach at sunset. And I mean making love to anyone, man or woman. She had had an experience with a boy, which was okay but had left her cold inside. It seemed "natural" that he put his penis between her legs and entered her. But what of two women? What do they do? What kind of technique? She wanted to know what to do if something should really happen with the teacher and they should find themselves in bed together.
I told her not to worry about what to do, about technique. Two women will know instinctively how to please each other. While it's a good thing for a man to study his girl friend or wife while masturbating (so he can learn to please her the same way), two women already know how to turn each other on, because they already turn themselves on. Forget any "lack of a penis" worries; the penis shouldn't even be thought of-it has nothing to do with two women making love. It doesn't belong in your thinking because the whole point of lesbian lovemaking is that it's two women together-without men. Again, the excitement, the sexual aura emanating from Lacey and Anne, was there because they were two women really making love, not because they were performing for me.
All I can say is that if you've had the urge to see what it is like to make love to another woman, then you must give in to it. Once you've decided to go ahead with your true feelings, you can't worry about performance. You can't worry about anything at all. You have to concentrate on what comes naturally, on pleasing your lover and pleasing yourself.
Take her in your arms and hold her. Make love as though it is the first time, and savor it as though it's the last time. Live and love for the moment, even though that moment may last a lifetime.
Love her, because she's made of the stuff you are, and is what you are. Love her for being part of you and being with you. Love her for her and for yourself. It will enrich your life and your lovemaking and give you more happiness than you ever dreamed.
Lacey and Anne couldn't have been wrong.
PART FOUR: A Man and a Woman and a Man
When I was with my woman lover, Flo, we had a threeway experience once. It really taught me-for the first time-what it was like for a man and a woman and a man to make love. Flo had that great gift of living for the moment, as if there were no tomorrow. That included fucking. She wanted to get it all done today, get it all in before morning, because maybe morning wouldn't come.
It began one day when we were shopping in Sausalito. We were in a men's store and I was trying on a pair of jeans and Flo was pinching my ass as I stood in front of the mirror. There was something about the salesman that caught both of us ... we could see it in each other's eyes. His name was Brian; he was tall and slim and gorgeous. Curly hair, big bright eyes, happy. It was his first day at the store-we had never seen him before-and he told us that he'd just moved to San Francisco with his parents. He was working in Sausalito to get away from them and to save money to move into his own place.
We invited him to ours.
It wasn't a flip decision. It was the first time we had let someone else in our relationship. Brian seemed to be coming on to both of us-would he favor one of us? Would that cause jealousy? We talked about it. Yes, we both wanted him. Not separately, together. I didn't want to run off with him and have a quick affair on the side. Flo didn't want that, either. But one of her statements struck me with its honesty: "I want to feel you both make love to me and I want to watch the two of you make love to each other."
"Really?" I asked.
"Yes." She came up to me and put her arms around me. "Tracy, why shouldn't the two guys get it on too when they're in a threesome with a woman?" And then she reminded me that that particular aspect of sexuality was seldom explored. And she was right. Sure, buddies often share the same girl, but do they touch each other? Never. They vicariously fuck each other by watching each other take turns with the girl. Sometimes they'll have her at the same time-one fucks her while she sucks his buddy's cock-but the men seldom let even their hands touch. Look at most threesome pornography. It's two women and a man, the girls often make love to each other. It is nothing new to see two girls kissing passionately in film, and then to see the third person, the guy, slide his cock between their locked lips, prying them apart, the male entering into the lesbian relationship. But when you see two men and a woman, the guys seldom get near each other.
It has to change. Flo felt it had to change, and she got me to see its possibilities. As we drove back down the winding hill to the store, to invite Brian over for "dinner," she told me that seeing two guys making love honestly turned her on. And if she could be part of that lovemaking, it would give her an extra charge. She was really hot for what was going to happen (or what we had planned; the rest was up to Brian). I'll admit I had a hard-on just thinking about it. It lived up to our expectations ...
Brian was marvelous. I think Flo and I had been together just long enough for us to both desire something new to jazz up our sex life. We weren't bored with each other-who could be bored with her body and knowledge?-but we needed to do something different. We understood each other's needs. I needed a guy again. After all, the day Flo picked me up, I was waiting to meet a trick there in Sausalito. I hadn't been with a guy since the day she swept me away. And she hadn't been fucking anyone but me. I think she wanted a little diversion for a change. She knew I couldn't be satisfied only by women; I knew she needed other lovers. But I didn't want to run off alone with some guy, and she didn't want to, either. So, we did the best thing possible-we had a lover together.
I call him a lover, even though he was only with us for a few hours. A few passionate and marvelous hours. Making love is not only done with the one great heartthrob of your life. You can make love to a total stranger. It's different from having sex-it's more than having sex. But you can make love to someone whose name you don't even know, just as you can merely have sex with someone you've known all your life. The difference is inside, in your heart, and you'll know which it is.
With Brian it was definitely making love. I felt something for him. I felt his heart beating inside my body. Flo did, too. He loved us. He didn't know us, but he loved us. And we loved him. It was wild and it was tender, it was incredible sex and also very touching. There was a balance. The scale didn't tip. We made love equally, sharing equally. Brian and I would kiss Flo's breasts, each of us moving our tongue around her big womanly nipples. Then we would look up, catch each other's eye and kiss, running our tongues into each other's mouths as we laid our heads on her breasts. We knelt on either side of her and let her play with our cocks. At the same time, he rested his head on my shoulder, his fingers lightly stroking my back. As he fucked Flo in the middle of the living room floor, I knelt between his legs and cupped his balls in my hands and watched the shadows of their moving bodies on the sliding glass doors nearby. Brian and I sat facing one another his leas up over mine, and we held our cocks together. Flo took them both at the same time, kissing them, sucking them, and we fingered her breasts and her pussy ... we each put a finger up her cunt at the same time and the charge for all three of us was incredible. We stretched out on the floor, taking turns kissing one another's bodies in various places. Flo sucked Brian off as I fingered his ass and rubbed her breasts and then she kissed me, her mouth filled with his hot cream, and I drank it all down. Then Brian beat me off and when I came he took my load and gave it to Flo, kissing her lovingly. She didn't swallow it. She kissed me and gave it back to me and then we pressed our faces together, kissing and slobbering in the saliva and cum until we were drenched.
Well, I guess I'm describing nothing but a sex scene. It isn't easy to put the feelings into words, because they're not meant for words. They were thoughts of the soul, of the heart, and all I know is that we felt so extra-special that night, so close, so happy. There were two particular situations-I don't know what to call them, positions maybe-that I'll never forget. Flo and Brian talked about them after that night. (We saw him a few times when we were shopping, but we never had him back to the house again. I don't think it was planned that way; it just didn't happen. The timing never seemed right. And then Flo and I went off to Europe and I didn't live in Sausalito again.)
I was sitting with my back against the sofa, my legs drawn up, watching Flo, who was lying next to Brian, leisurely playing with his beautiful cock, caressing it, holding it, looking at it. She would kiss it gently, as though it were some precious pet. And then she would grab it with force and hold it tightly and press her breasts against it. Brian lay back on the floor, moaning.
Then Flo asked him to fuck her. She spread her arms and legs on the rug and Brian mounted her. His cock disappeared between the soft folds of her cunt. I started beating off. They looked so beautiful, the handsome older woman and the youthful stud. I moved to my knees and Brian turned his head and said, "You can fuck me if you want."
Jesus, yeah. I was just looking at his ass and thinking I'd like to do that. And especially at this moment, while he was in Flo. I wanted to fuck him while he was fucking her. It blew my mind and hers, too, not to mention his. He was in heaven, shaking and shuddering with passion and delight. Flo loved the weight of our bodies on her and she reached up and guided the head of my cock into Brian's anus. She even spit in her hand, on her fingertips, to help lubricate him. I felt my balls contract as my cock slid all the way in him. He let out a shout of pain and joy, and Flo closed her eyes in pleasure. Brian moved his hips, fucking Flo in strong, steady movements. All I had to do was hold myself in position, because each time he pulled out of her, my cock sank deep into his ass. Flo told us she wanted us to come together. Brian had already creamed (when she sucked him off) and he took longer the second time, but finally an orgasm came and I'm sure he could be heard across the bay when it hit. I had been holding back and finally let go and just collapsed on top of him, on top of her. I shot his asshole full of cum as we rolled onto our sides, desperately trying to stay inside each other, locked together. We did it. It wasn't easy, but we did it, and it was incredible. I could feel him pumping cum into her pussy by the contractions around my cock in his ass. Each time jism shot from his cock, I shot some into his body. God, it was wonderful.
And wonderful on more than the physical level. There was something about being joined together, emotionally, that made it so exciting. We were all fucking. No one was a spectator, no one was left out. We all participated; we were equals. We all had orgasms, almost at the same time (Flo came first out of sheer fascination). We had all entered one another's bodies. Brian had even reached back and pressed his finger into my ass, just to be inside me. He had turned his head and we had kissed quickly. He kissed Flo. I kissed Fla. We fucked and kissed and came. It was one of the best experiences we'd ever had.
And an even better one came a little later. To describe it would be like telling you about an acid trip of the 1960s. Dazzling, colors flashing before your eyes, pleasure that envelops you and holds you ... You know what I mean? I'll stick to the facts, as long as you already know the feeling was sensational.
I sat down on the floor and spread my legs, resting on my elbows, looking down at my standing cock. Brian did the same and put his legs over mine, so our cocks were rubbing, our balls touching. He reached down and grabbed our cocks in his fist, just as he'd done when he was beating us off as Flo watched and licked the tips. Well, as we sat there with our double-barreled battering ram, Flo stood above it, spreading her legs. She came down, stooping, right onto our double-cock. She was in control, taking as much as she wanted or as little as she wanted, fucking herself with our two cocks. Each time she moved up and down, bouncing around on us as though she were riding a steer, we felt our balls move and the sensation was terrific.
But that was only the start. Her legs nearly gave out after a few minutes, so we moved into another position. Brian lay on the floor, on his back, his strong legs wide, his balls nearly resting on the carpet. Flo straddled him on her knees, letting his cock slide up her pussy with ease. I watched from behind until he had her good and hot, dripping wet. Then I knelt between his legs and positioned the head of my cock right up against his throbbing dick. Flo hardly breathed; she was trembling in anticipation. I pushed forward. My cock slid into her, right up her, against Brian's wet cock. I pushed in as far as I could and my balls pressed up against his, and each time we moved they rubbed together, driving both of us mad. Flo just held steady, not moving, letting us fuck her. Brian lifted his ass from the floor, pushing up and into her, and I rammed my hips forward, moving my cock with his, so two thick dicks were fucking her at the same time.
What was so amazing was that I was not only fucking Flo, I was fucking Brian. Brian was not only fucking Flo, he was fucking me. We were balling each other and a woman, too. And Flo was being tucked equally and simultaneously by the two guys she was making love to. It's an incredible position, one which should be included in all the "how-to" books. If the guys can have an orgasm together, it can be the best sexual experience they'll ever have. We didn't come at the same time, but it still was one of the best orgasms ever. I came first, and Flo and Brian both felt it; he said the tip of his cock started to burn all of a sudden. Flo said she couldn't feel his as much because her cunt was hot with my jism and she was coming herself, but Brian said he felt the cum shooting out of my prick and running down the length of his cock and over his balls. When it was over, I sucked Brian's cock clean, he did the same to me, and we both took turns eating Fla. (Then I think we all passed out.) I think three ways are great for breaking down those inhibitions men have about touching each other. With a woman involved, it is perhaps easier to put your hand on another cock easier to allow yourself to admit that you can be turned on by another guy as well as a woman. "I'm not queer," is the expression that stops so many guys from experimenting. With a woman involved it is easy to say, "Of course I'm not queer." How could you be queer with that broad there? It makes it safer; latent homosexual feelings are brought to the surface, surprisingly, by the presence and participation of a woman.
But you have to be careful; if you re out to experiment with another guy, or if having a woman present as the only way you think you can get it on with a particular guy, things can get lopsided. A three-way means there are three people involved, not two and one catalyst. Some menages have turned into disasters because the men were so fascinated with their newfound male/male excitement that they all but ignored the girl. A menage a trois only works when all is fair, when all is shared. You have to keep in mind that there are two other people to please, not just one, even if you prefer one of them.
A smart woman can tell when two men are so turned on to each other that she could easily sneak out the door and not be missed. It might bother her. But the truly smart woman is the one who, if she sees this happening, understands it and gets into it. She can derive great pleasure watching two men getting it on, especially if it is the first time for one or both of them. Many women I've known have said that the biggest visual turn-on for them is watching two men making love. Porno star Marilyn Chambers said in an interview that her ultimate fantasy is watching two good-looking guys getting it on. It isn't an unusual dream, and hardly original; photographs of two women making love regularly sell millions of copies of Penthouse.
A woman has to be wise and ready, for anything can happen with two men. She may favor one or the other, but she should try to make them both feel equally loved. Sometimes it happens that one of the guys favors the other guy, while the woman favors the first guy, so it works out in a fashion. But perfect balance is rare.
I was an old hand at making love to other guys when Flo and Brian and I got together, so I was aggressive, but so was Brian, who told us he'd only been to bed with two women in his entire life. What happens if a woman gets two men to go to bed with her at the same time and neither one of them takes the initiative with the other? She has to be the one to get them together. I haven't found a woman yet who isn't excited by being able to get two straight men to feel each other's bodies for the first time.
It really has to be subtle, however. She can't say, "Okay, Hank, now I want you to grab Jack's balls and take a lick on that big cock of his." What she can say is, "Ummm, I want to suck you both at once ... put your cocks together." How can they refuse? What guy's gonna say, "Oh, no, I'm gonna give up that blow job because I might feel I'm a queer if my cock touches his." They will put their cocks together. The woman can move the men around, slide them against each other, suck them at once. She can force them to lie down with their bodies pressing together. She can tell them to close their eyes and take their hands and move them over her breasts and then guide them to each other's cocks. Or, better yet, she can make sure the lights are turned off. In the dark it isn't quite as frightening, and often you won't realize just who is touching whom. Turn the lights up later, when Hank and Jack have already been feeling each other's cocks and balls along with breasts and pussy and that delicious feminine mouth between them.
I don't want to sound as though man/woman/man is meant to be an exercise in getting two men to lay each other, all done by a strong woman. But I know that's often the case, and the woman has to be prepared for it. Sometimes the men will make love to the woman with very little actual play between them, and it is really up to the woman to force them into anything beyond that (if she wants to).
Understand, too, that everyone doesn't have to participate at all times. One of the guys can watch the other two. The woman can watch the men. That too is a good way of breaking the ice-she tells them she wants to watch them beat off, she wants to watch them masturbate. She can sit between them and feel their balls as they do it, or she can sit across the room, viewing. She may want to suggest they face each other-forcing them to look at one another's cocks-or perhaps even kneel together so their cocks are almost touching (and eventually they will). The guys can watch the woman masturbate. She can suck one of them while the other takes in the beautiful sight with his eyes, with one hand wrapped around his cock. The possibilities are endless.
A girl I knew in New York had a steady boyfriend. He was super-straight, a nice guy, hunky and dumb and good natured. She took dancing lessons, and her best pal was a beautiful young guy who was bisexual. Today he's a famous ballet star, but then he was unknown. She introduced the dancer to her steady, and they had dinner together. The boyfriend liked the kid, thought he was a nice person. It surprised the girl one night when her macho boyfriend asked if she had any desire to ball the dancer. She told him no, not really, but she had never thought about it. She'd never slept with a guy she'd known to be bisexual, but, after a while, the idea of sleeping with a guy who also slept with other men intrigued her. It apparently intrigued her boyfriend too, because he told her point-blank that he'd like to see her "get fucked" by the slim dancer. She was shocked.
But she recovered quickly, and the next night the dancer was naked on top of her, fucking her on the bed while the macho boyfriend lay on the couch across the loft, rubbing his cock through his jeans. He feasted his eyes on the girl getting fucked by the pretty dancer. He also feasted his eyes on the dancer's pretty ass. But he didn't make a .move, he just got off by watching the girl he d been fucking for two years getting balled by someone else.
They reached a climax and relaxed on the bed. The boyfriend had an enormous hard-on and lay flat on the couch, his eyes closed. The girl and the dancer went over to the couch, got on their knees, and together opened his pants and pulled out his cock. They sucked him off, using both of their mouths on his cock at the same time. He came easily and they shared his cum. Then he opened his eyes and reached up and put his hands in their hair and hugged their faces to him.
And that was that.
Until a few days later. The girl came home from class, and the dancer came with her, just to drop in for a sandwich. And that's what it ended up being-a sandwich with the macho boyfriend fucking the boy as he fucked the girl. And some weeks later the macho boyfriend had his virgin ass entered by the dancer while the girl watched she told me it was the ultimate turn-on for her. She still lives with the guy, and every once in a while the dancer drops in and they all get it on. A three-way can work beautifully.
But it can also fuck things up easily. Jealousy is rampant in a threesome situation. He's getting more attention than I am. Bullshit like that. Forget it. Feast your eyes on it and enjoy it. I think spontaneous three-way orgies are best. If it's planned down to the time and place and who will do what to whom, it loses some of its excitement. It's better to be sitting around, the three of you, and have someone say, "Hey, let's go back to my place." You can add " ... for a drink" or " ... for a fuck" if you want, but it usually isn't necessary; if sex is in the air, it's in the air, and the other two will know what you want to go back to your place for.
I guess I should mention it isn't always easy to get started. I mean, once you get back to your place, who takes the first move? There are lots of ways. Pornography is always one, having a three-way look at a dirty book or stack of pictures. Another way is instant romance with soft music and low lights (or candles, love candles; Edison just couldn't have been too much of a hotshot in bed to destroy all that wonderful light that comes from flames). Another move, which isn't very subtle is to just take off your clothes and wait and see if the other two don't join in.
Actually, a fine way to begin is to ask to be undressed, by the other two. If you're the woman, tell the guys to strip you, and then go limp and let them work on getting your clothes off. Then do them the same favor. Undress one of them. Have him stand up. Yank his pants down and start sucking him in front of the other guy, just enough to make the other one slightly jealous and more than bursting with an erection. Then go to the second one and do the same, leaving the other to watch with his wet cock standing straight out in front of him.
Or, if you're one of the men, lie back on the floor or bed and tell the woman you'd really get off watching her strip for you-and ask the other guy, "You'd like that too, right?" Is he going to say no? No way. If you're outdoors, on a secluded beach, for instance, you've got it made-most of your clothes are already off. You can begin by reaching over and just sliding your hand down into the girl's bikini bottom and the other guy's trunks at the same time. Or tell them you want to tan your cock, and whip it out. Dare the other guy to do it while the girl giggles with excited embarrassment-and then ask her to join in. Force her if she pretends that she doesn't want to. If she really didn't want to, she would have run away the minute you pulled your trunks down.
One more word: If you're a heterosexual male and you're getting uptight about the emphasis on two men making it while they're making it with a woman, settle down. No one is going to label you anything-homosexual, bisexual-if you don't want that. All I'm advocating is that you give yourself the chance of opening up a bit and seeing whether or not there's some sexual stimulation you haven't experienced as yet. It always amazes me when psychologists and doctors tell us that, although everyone goes through a homosexual period of their lives, It almost always occurs under the age of sixteen. That's bullshit. Why can't it occur when you're thirty-seven? Why can't it happen twice? Or three times? And what is a "homosexual period" anyway? The three months you found you liked touching another guy's cock? Terrific. If it only lasted three months and you liked it, what have you lost? Nothing-in fact, I think you've gained. It made you feel good, didn't it? It made you smile. And anything that makes you smile is a good thing in my book.
I'm really trying not to preach my "everyone is basically bisexual" lecture here, but I want people to leave themselves open to new experience. If it's natural to have a period in your life when you like to fool around (I kinda like that term, fool around) with boys, and you missed it when you were a teen-ager, try it now-and do it with an added feature, an added stimulus, a woman. If you already had your period with boys, have another; it's on the house.
I know guys who have had three ways, man/woman/man, in which they've done everything there is to do to and with another man, and yet outside of that menage a trois they don't touch other guys. There's no silly label for them. They've come to accept the fact that they get more turned on-and so does the woman-if they actively participate with the other guy. It balances things out and makes it truly a three-way. They don't doubt their masculinity; they don't have am-I-gay hang-ups. They've found they like cocks and cunts together, two cocks and a cunt, and they're at peace with the whole arrangement. It's a good place to be.
I suppose there are women reading this who are telling themselves they'd get sick if they saw their man getting it on with another dude. It's true; some would. Three-ways aren't for everyone, and not every woman finds two men making love all that interesting, much less stimulating. But, as I said to the guys, take the chance. Suggest it first to a bisexual friend of yours. He'll be more open to it than the straight guy you've been balling-but make the straight guy the third partner. Or just let it happen. Start talking about it with two guys you'd like to make love to. They might dig it. Then it will probably be up to you to help them actively participate with one another-if you're not sure, try it and see what happens. Does the sight of one of the guys who has his cock in you at that moment sucking the other's big cock turn you on? No? All right, you've found out. And if it does, wonderful-you've found another new source of pleasure.
Give it a chance-everyone, straight, gay, bi, sheep-fuckers. Forget about what you are and think of yourself merely as sensual. Get it on with everyone in the room. Lovemaking knows no distinctions. How do you know you can't make love to another man and woman at the same time? How do you know you won't like another guy licking your balls while you're fucking your girl? How can you be sure you won't feel a wonderful tingle in your entire body as you feast your eyes on the two guys who just fucked you as they now fuck each other?
You won't know unless you try.
And if you can't find a third person, invite me. I like parties ...
PART FIVE: A Woman and a Man and a Woman
Two women and a man is an old and more acceptable version of the menage a trois theme. It's probably more common because, for some reason still unknown to me, two women seem to participate with each other in a threesome more easily than two men do. As I said in the previous chapter, I hope that is changing.
So what do we say about two women and a man? All the things we've said about two men and a woman, only in reverse. There is great pleasure in watching two women make love, first of all. Almost all straight men get off on it-if they say they don't, I'll bet they're lying to themselves. The editors of Penthouse and Qui know what they're doing when they constantly run photo sections of two beautiful girls making love to one another, or looking as though they're getting ready to. It turns guys on to see one girl eating another's pussy, to watch a woman having her breasts sucked and kissed and caressed by another woman. In the magazine photo spreads and stories, you are there vicariously, watching, your cock hard, ready to give it to them when they tire of each other ... or maybe you just watch, whacking off, and reach a climax that way.
But let's talk about an actual woman/man/woman situation. The thrill is no longer vicarious, it's there happening in front of you. You're part of it, part of the stimulation the girls feel, part of the reason they're making love to each other with such fervor and pleasure. And you can choose to participate or to watch or to do both. Stripping each other slowly is a great way to begin, watching each other masturbate is a fine way to continue, and trying every sexual position known to man is a perfect way to finish.
But to go through all the positions and physical and mental turn-ons of woman/man/woman would only be rehashing much of what I've described before. Instead, I want to break away and tell you a story, something that happened to me since The Happy Hustler was written. It will, I think, be more helpful and interesting than listing a lot of positions. The story has in it the essence of what woman/man/woman three-ways are all about ...
And an added feature:
Bondage. As I said, I think the bondage references were the key to the acceptance of The Joy of Sex. I think there's a little of the passive/slave in all of us, and a good way to release that desire, to play that game, is through sex. I found I had that desire; I wanted to see what it would be like to be totally submissive, totally passive-forced against my own will, or at least to play at it up, I wanted to be tied up and forced to do things. It finally happened like this:
I met a woman. She was in her early thirties. She had long chestnut hair and a slender awesome body. Everything was in proportion, perfect for her height, perfect for her smile. She had a sensual aura about her which told you she knew how powerful she was, she understood the power she had over men-and women. No, she didn't come on strong, she came on with self-confidence. She was bright, aware of life, easy to talk to. I met her in New York when we were shooting the cover photos for The Happy Hustler. Her name was Clare.
Clare had a girl friend, Bonnie. She was something else-a delight, totally without inhibition, a bubble of fun and full of energy, sexual and otherwise. But she enters the picture later. Clare was a photographer, and I was introduced to her at the studio where we were working. She was shooting some male nudes for one of the woman's magazines, and the photographs I saw hanging in her studio were very good. She asked me if we were really shooting a nude centerfold for a book, and I assured her we were. She thought it was a wild idea, but she was worried about the book appearing in the neighborhood supermarket. [Her worry was a valid one-the book made a splash with the nude centerfold at first and got a lot of publicity, but the little drugstores and markets in Smalltown, U.S.A., wouldn't touch it-so we dropped the centerfold and it suddenly became a "clean" book, and the little ladies in Kansas gave it their blessing.]
Clare asked if I'd like to pose for her. Just for the hell of it. I told her I'd love it. I would be needing publicity pictures, and she seemed to know how to photograph men. We didn't talk much about whether they would be nude or clothed. Since all I saw around me were giant blow-ups of naked guys, I took it for granted that she wanted to do full nudes. I skipped wearing underwear that night, and showed up in jeans and a sweatshirt, ready to take them off almost immediately.
She had other ideas. We would do nudes, but we'd work up to them. For a long time, she had been wanting to take some really sexy pictures of a guy. And in her estimation-and I agreed with her-that meant partially clothed. At the beach, which do you like better, a nude beach or a beach where you're required to wear swimming trunks of some sort, and where the girls have to cover the nipples and wear at least a bikini bottom? I prefer the latter, mainly because there is something left to the imagination. I heard Charo once say in an interview, "No, I will not do nudes. Eet ees no good to show the whole meat." I chuckled, but I agreed. You show it all and there is nothing left to wonder about. Nudity is great, but let's have something lead up to it ...
Well, we did. I just posed casually around her apartment, which again was filled with blow-ups of nude men. I slumped into the most comfortable couch I've ever dropped my body into (that's right, you didn't sit on it, you sat in it), and pulled my pants down with my hands in the pockets so my pubic hair showed in the space between the sweatshirt and the top of the jeans. She murmured. She liked it.
And my cock started getting hard. The exhibitionist in me. I could see I was turning Clare on, and I was getting turned on myself. She moved to the floor and lay flat on the rug, her camera aimed up as I stood. She could see the outline of my cock in the pants and she took many shots, having me turn this way and that, to get the right shadows on my crotch. Then I took the pants off and sat first with them rolled up between my legs, so you could see I was naked from the waist down but you couldn't see my cock. I could see Clare's nipples standing rigid under her smock-like blouse as she snapped the pictures.
She took a few of my ass, while I held my jeans as though I'd just stepped out of them. One had me holding them up as though I was about to fold them, and you can just see the head of my cock as I'm doing it. (Clare says that's her favorite picture.)
Then I crossed my arms, still wearing the sweatshirt, and looked at the camera. I leaned against her desk and opened my legs so my cock hung down. She got on her knees with the camera. She told me to reach down and hold my cock. I liked the way she commanded me; she was both directing and dominating. She told me to lift my cock up, hold it in my hands. It started to get hard and she said, "Great, terrific!" She snapped away. I leaned way back on the desk, forcing my hips in the air, and she got a close-up of my hand squeezing my fully erect cock. (Bonnie says that's her favorite.)
But my favorite came later, when she set the camera on the tripod and joined in the photos. We finished the first set with me going off to the bathroom, as if to take a shower, with my jeans and sweatshirt slung over my shoulder. You knew, just by looking at the pictures, that I was going to beat off before I took any shower-I was rock hard. She finished the roll of film, as I entered the bathroom.
Suddenly, there was silence. I was standing there with a hard-on, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door with my clothes over my shoulder. The session was over: and yet we didn't say anything like, "Well, those should be good ... " We just stared at each other. She set the camera down on the desk and walked over to me. Gently, she took the clothes from my shoulder, looking directly into my eyes the whole time. I had one hand down, holding my cock against my leg. I was trembling with excitement. I thought, in a moment we'll be kissing, and I'll be gently taking her clothes off ...
Wrong. Still looking into my eyes, she said, "Get down on your knees," with the same inflection she'd used as she directed my actions in front of the camera. I just stared at her for a second, perplexed. I liked hearing her order me around. It amazed me! I really liked it. I hadn't met a dominant woman like this since I was hustling in Chicago, and then it was just an act. This was for real.
I found myself speechless and got down on my knees.
"Take your hand off your cock," she said, firmly.
I dropped my hands to my sides.
"Now lift my skirt and put your beautiful head under there. I know you want it."
I gulped. She was right. I lifted her denim skirt and put my head under it. She smelled musky, already hot with passion. I could barely see, but I could feel. I pressed my face between her legs and found damp silk underpants under my tongue. My cock sprang up and touched her leg. She stood there, rocking on her platform heels, her hands on her hips, letting me arouse her with my tongue through her underpants.
Letting me? Hell, she was ordering me. "Come on, baby, use your teeth," she said. "Lick me ... just lick me, slowly ... yeah, oh yeah ... " And then, "Now bite. Come on, dammit, bite! Tear them apart, rip them off me. Get that tongue up my pussy." And I bit her underpants with my teeth and ripped them apart, sliding my tongue into her as quickly as I could. She screamed in excitement and then pulled my head out from under her skirt. "Oh, Grant, Tracy, Michael, whatever your name is ... you're marvelous!"
I was marvelous? I just looked up at her, sitting there on my haunches with my cock as hard as ever. "I want to make love to you," I said.
"Will you do what I say?"
I nodded. Strange how it excited me-usually I was the aggressive one. I liked the change of pace.
"I'm going to take pictures of us fucking," she announced. Notice, she didn't ask me. She told me. Too bad, if I didn't like it.
She walked over and reloaded the camera as I leaned against the wall and watched my hard-on soften. She put the camera back on the tripod and aimed it toward the marvelous sofa, and then hooked up some little gadget on top of it. "It'll take pictures every minute for thirty-six minutes," she said. I'd never seen anything like that before. A whole set of porno photos, before, during and after-providing you fuck within thirty-six minutes.
"Come here," she said, falling into the sofa I loved so much. I walked over to her and stood next to her. She reached up and fondled my balls and lifted her skirt up to her waist. I could see the dark pussy hair protruding through the lustful rip in her undies. "I like your mouth," she said, "I like your smile."
"I like your body."
"Oh?" she said, as if she didn't know.
"I guess I didn't show it."
She smirked. "Well, maybe you dropped a hint." She pulled on my balls a little, hard, so they hurt. I let out a slight moan. "Am I hurting you?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You like it, though, don't you?"
I had to nod. Yes, dammit, I liked it.
She pulled again and this time came up with her mouth and sucked my nuts right into her mouth, and it felt as if they'd been dropped into hot water. She stuck her finger in my ass-her fingernail, I should say-and twisted it around. It hurt I watched her face pulling at my balls, her pussy spreading under the torn panties, and my cock rose up again. She flipped one leg over the back of the sofa and I fell down on top of her and buried my face between her soft thighs.
In a moment we were so into the passion of the scene, we forgot all about the camera. At first we had both been aware of it, because in one of the shots (which we saw later) she was looking at the camera as she held my balls in her hand. And I had had my body turned so we would get a good profile shot. But soon we didn't think about the camera. We were in a sixty-nine position on the sofa, and I could feel my cock sliding down her throat as I lapped between her pussy lips. I sat up and watched her suck my cock, and then she ordered me to get up. I stood up and she stripped her clothes off. I started to help, but she ordered me not to. She left her torn panties on and told me to take them off, with my teeth. I moved down and pulled on them until they finally fell around her ankles. She stepped out of them and sat down on the sofa, her legs spread wide. She reached over and lit a cigarette. I sat on the floor between her lovely slender legs, just watching her as she talked, watching her beautiful pussy so quiet between her legs-a cock is so loud, a cunt so soft, so still-and stroking my cock very slowly.
That's when she told me about Bonnie. She said she had a girl friend who would like me, because Bonnie liked guys whose balls hang low. I said I hoped she'd like me for other things first, and Clare told me I was wrong to say that-why not let her like you just because your nuts hang low? Why do you have to be friends to be attracted to each other? She was right, and I shut up.
Clare said that she'd done the same thing with the camera with Bonnie one night-and then she jumped up and raced for the tripod and clicked off the automatic timer. It would have snapped twenty pictures of us sitting there talking. (Four was quite enough, we found out later.)
"You get it on with Bonnie?" I asked when she returned to the sofa.
"Sure. She's got the most beautiful breasts I've seen on any woman in America."
"You've taken pictures of you two together, making love?"
Clare smiled and said, "Would you like to see them?"
Would I? Hell, yes!
She went to the desk and fumbled through a pack of manila envelopes and finally came up with the right one. She handed it to me and said, "Hey, now, don't come all over them, they're the only prints I have." She sat down, started another cigarette from the one she was smoking, and put out the first. She watched me with amused interest as my cock stayed hard through the incredible set of photographs.
She was right-Bonnie was a doll, and her breasts were incredible. Big and voluptuous, but not plastic. The kind of tits you want to bury your head between and never come up for air again. There was Bonnie, naked to the waist, and Clare, her body bare, kneeling over the younger girl's face. (Bonnie was only twenty.) You could see Bonnie sliding her tongue into Clare's vagina, and then Clare spreading her pussy lips with her fingertips so Bonnie's tongue could reach in as far as possible.
Then a shot of Clare kissing Bonnie's nipples, and Bonnie making love to Clare's rear as she lay on the sofa. Bonnie kissed it and pressed her nose between the cheeks and licked it. Then Clare wrapped her legs around Bonnie's face, and I could see Bonnie's pants were beginning to come down. Sure enough, in the next picture she was naked, and Clare was just sitting, staring at her, reaching out with one hand to touch one of her hard nipples. Next came a series of shots of them really making love, kissing, pulling each other's hair, massaging each other's breasts, masturbating each other at the same time, and coming. Yes, you could see them come. Bonnie looked as though she were dying, and Clare seemed to be on a cloud. They seemed to have their entire hands stuffed up each other's cunts, and by the time I reached the last photo I was near an orgasm myself.
"Don't you dare come," Clare said. It shocked me out of my fantasy, and I put down the lesbian love photos and looked up. Clare was standing next to me, her legs spread. "You're going to fuck me first."
"First?"
"First. Before you come. Stand up."
Again that sharp, commanding voice. I stood up. I reached down and offered my cock to her. She was tall, so I didn't have to bend my legs much, except to enter her. Once inside, we could both stand and rock back and forth. She moaned and told me she loved it, and I said the same thing. But I wasn't concentrating on the act itself, nor on how I felt inside her. I was thinking of the photos lying on the floor near our feet, remembering how excited they'd made me. I was fantasizing about being there when the photos had been taken, imagining that I'd been the one taking them. I would like to see this beautiful woman, the woman I'm standing here fucking, this strong wonderful bitch, get it on with the girl with the incredible boobs. My cock got harder just thinking about it, and I stared slamming into Clare with all my might.
She was-it took me a minute to realize this-slapping my ass with the flat of her hand each time I pushed into her. Then she pinched me, hard. She bent her head down and bit on my right nipple, so hard I shouted out in pain. "That's what I do to Bonnie," she whispered, and added, "Can't you take it?"
I could and I would. I stood up proudly, stiffly. "I can take it," I said.
And she dished it out, but it was nothing compared to the upcoming night. I didn't yet know what was in store for me, and my fantasy had not been quite that wild. But it was one of the best nights of my life, a night in which I did things I'd never done, sexually ... and for me, that's quite an accomplishment.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Clare held my hands behind my back and told me to stand still. Then she did the moving, she was the one fucking me. She stuck her finger up my ass and caused great pain with her long hard nail. She reached down and yanked on my balls again. I had tears in my eyes, but there was something about it I liked. "What do you want?" she asked, fucking me like mad. "Come on, tell me ... what do you want, huh, stud?"
"I want you and Bonnie," I blurted out. "Together."
She slammed against me and stopped moving. My cock was all the way in her. 'Why?" she asked, hard.
"Turns me on."
"Sit down," she said.
"But I ... " I didn't want to pull out of her, and there was no other way to get to the sofa behind my legs ...
She shoved me and I had no choice but to fall backwards. My hot, wet cock sat between my legs as I looked up at her in astonishment. "Tomorrow night?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure." I was doing a play on Broadway at the time, Tubstrip, but I could meet them after the performance.
"We get pretty tough when we're together."
"I can take it."
She smiled. "But can you dig it, stud?"
I could dig it.
Clare walked over to the camera, turned on the automatic timer again, and came back to the sofa. She knelt on the couch, with her back against the pillows, as if she were going to dive off the thing. I wondered what the hell she was doing. I was sitting there with my cock in my hands, going crazy watching her naked body. She said, .Lie on the floor, right here." She pointed to the spot right beneath her. Put your legs up against the sofa and balance yourself on your shoulders."
"What ... ?"
She yelled at me, telling me to obey her and lie down on the floor. She said she wanted to get my cum in the picture ...
I moved to the floor, on my back, sliding my ass up against the front of the sofa. She knelt above me as I spread my legs and gave her my cock. She grasped it in both hands and began to slide the skin back and forth, hard, squeezing painfully tight. I watched, fascinated, excited, looking at the stern expression on her face and getting off on the fact that this very feminine creature was captivating me, having a hold over me, forcing me to do whatever she wanted. She directed my cockhead straight to my face when I gasped that I was coming, and I came, squirting my cum all over my lips and cheeks and chest. I was drenched. She looked up at the camera and grinned.
Then she came down to me on the floor, the pussycat now, being loving and soft and tender. She licked the cum from my chest, moved her lips in it on my face, and finally kissed me in a very loving and warm way. "Tomorrow night, Bonnie," she whispered in my ear.
And then she lit a cigarette and asked me to masturbate her until she came. She held onto my cock with one hand and .looked at the set of photos of herself and Bonnie, holding them in the other hand. She rocked when she came. I think she was having the same fantasy I'd had.
Bonnie was wonderful. We met at Charlie's, in the theater district, where the food is good and the waiters better. Probably the most beautiful waiters in all of New York City. Since I was with friends, I asked Clare and Bonnie to join us, and we had a good time. Bonnie liked to freak people out by talking dirty, and she even managed to embarrass one particularly hunky waiter by commenting on the way the crack of his ass was so prominent in his black pants. We ordered and she said to him, "I'll have your bare ass on rye, please, hold the pickle." When he tried to get her to stop kidding, she said, "Who's kidding?"
We did a good show that night and I think the girls liked the S&M scenes in it.
We left my friends and went up to Clare's apartment on the Upper West Side. God, but New York has changed it really hit me that night. I'd always been an East Sider. I had worked for Phil Delaney over on the East Side, and it seemed most of the customers were on that side of the park. I lived in the Village, but still I had a romance with the East Side. But it changed. Me, not the East Side.
A woman at a publishing party I attended said, "Baby, the West Side is where it's happening. They close the goddamn East Side down at midnight. Here, it goes on all night, every night." Everyone I knew or met seemed to live on the West Side, or were planning to. I liked it there, Riverside Drive with the marvelous view and the howling wind in the winter, the cool breeze in the summer. Broadway with its assorted freaks, reminding me of Hollywood Boulevard. Great restaurants, great apartments, especially the old ones, and a sense of neighborhood long gone from most cities I've been in. As I walked down Columbus with Bonnie and Clare, I announced I was now a West Sider.
They didn't seem much interested.
They were interested in other things. God, were they interested. I told you how Clare functioned on her own, but I don't know about Bonnie. I didn't do anything alone with her. I imagine she's great, however. She not only had the best pair of tits on the Upper West Side, she knew how to use them better than any woman I've known."
Listen, I've got to be honest about what we did. Because you must be honest in your sexual relationships. If you are into doing something wild, strange, different, kinky-playa game the way we did. If you're not, bow out. Don't do it and hate it.
I must admit that, that night, Grant Tracy Saxon got into bondage scenes with two terrific women and he loved it.
What did we do? First, we had a drink, champagne. Clare put some soft rock music on and curled up on a big pillow on the floor. She was wearing a calf-length skirt again, with wonderful platform shoes. Her breasts were in a halter, which wasn't halting them all that much. She fingered them and untied the halter. She leaned back as Bonnie and I watched and she played with herself until the nipples were like rocks. Then she said, "Bonnie, come over here and suck my titties."
Bonnie rushed over, and I watched with my cock bursting through my undershorts as she took Clare's delicious tits in her mouth and sucked them. They both eyed me while they were doing it, happy to see that I was excited. I didn't dare move. They hadn't given me permission. I was already feeling passive, just being with two such dominating women.
They performed for me, kissing each other, licking each other, feeling each other. I moved my hand over my aching cock, but didn't take it out because I knew they would tell me what to do. I felt totally helpless and wanted it that way. I watched as Clare removed Bonnie's slacks and blouse, until she was in a bra and her panties, and then I saw Clare move the crotch of her panties aside and slide a finger into her pussy. I shook with pleasure, getting off on being a voyeur.
Then they both faced me, Bonnie in her underpants and her bra, Clare in just her skirt. Bonnie had pulled Clare's panties off and eaten her pussy as she lifted the skirt. Clare had a skirt fetish, I guess.
Anyhow, they moved to me and pulled off my boots. Then. each of them pressed a boot between their legs, pressing the leather to their cunts, and they kissed each other on the lips as they did so, which amazed me. Holding my boots and kissing. I couldn't believe it. Bonnie pulled my belt off and slapped it on the floor. I knew what she was telling me and I knew I would take it-she was going to whip me with it. Then Clare stood up and pulled my shirt up over my head. I was naked to the waist. Bonnie pulled my socks off and stuffed them in my mouth. My eyes bulged out of my head. I'd never had that done to me in my life, and I'd never done it to anyone. The socks were sweaty and smelled of leather and I tried to speak, to protest, but all that came out was a muddle of sounds, and the whole damned thing turned me on! Bonnie giggled her childlike laugh, and I felt humiliated sitting there with my own socks in my mouth. And yet I felt excited because of it. I wanted them to abuse me, to make me feel low and rotten. I wanted these women to be my masters, and I would be their slave.
They ordered me to the bedroom. I walked in front of them. Clare slapped me on the ass, but through my jeans it didn't hurt. But when they forced me face down on the mattress and yanked my pants and undershorts down so my bare ass was showing, it hurt. They took turns whacking me with their hands, and I yelled in protest as I felt the stinging slaps. They warned me not to make a sound but I still kept shouting ... even though it was muffled because of the socks.
So Bonnie hit me with the belt and I shut up. How often I'd done that to a customer and I never realized how it can really hurt-and how pleasing it can feel. I dug it. As Clare had anticipated.
Then they tied me to the bed, the thing I was anticipating all evening. It wasn't enough that I was being passive, playing passive-there had to be a physical restraint to keep me from suddenly hauling off and knocking the shit outta them. Not that I would have done such a thing, but mentally you need to know that. You need to know you want to pay them back, and yet you are unable because you are tied up. Bondage can be beautiful.
It was all the more exciting because of the fact that they tied me up with their underpants. Bonnie had brought Clare's from the living room and she tied my wrists to the bed, to the headboard, with Clare's panties first, and then with her own. She took them off in front of me and there was the beautiful pussy that I'd seen in the photos the night before. I could see how Clare managed "to get her whole hand in it-it seemed so big I would swear she could get her entire arm up there.
They pulled my jeans off and tied my right leg to the bedpost with my shirt, and then my left leg with my undershorts. I was spread-eagled on the bed, my ass open, my balls showing, even the tip of my cock lying down between my thighs. Bonnie got onto the bed with me and unhooked her bra. She slipped it under my head, putting my chin into one of the cups, and pulled my head backwards. Tears came to my eyes and I felt I was choking on the socks still in my mouth. She yanked hard a few times, and I moaned and then she dropped my head to the mattress. I lay with my face in her bra, against the warm garment which had been holding her beautiful breasts. She pulled the socks out of my mouth and asked if I were going to be quiet and obey. "Yes, master," I said.
"Cocksucker," she snapped, and slapped my ass.
I didn't say anything.
All of a sudden I felt her wonderful tits moving over my legs ... then my ass ... then down over my balls as my cock hardened. I felt her nipples pressing on my ass cheeks, then one of them on the tip of my cock. She said I was wet there and she moved her nipple over the moist tip and purred. Then she started to run her breasts all over my body, bracing herself on all fours, giving me a massage with her tits. She moved up to my neck, pressing down on both sides of my head. I turned and kissed one nipple and then the other.
Then Clare joined us. She sat on my head! Yeah, right on my head, pressing it into the bed, as she kissed and licked Bonnie's voluptuous mouth. I could feel her hard cunt on the back of my head, and Bonnie's on my back. I begged for air, and finally Clare moved back and I came up to find my nose in her pussy. "Eat her," Bonnie ordered.
I lapped at her, sucking her pussy lips, flicking her clit with my tongue, as she made out with Bonnie above me. Bonnie would reach between my legs and give my balls a squeeze. Then she'd find my cock and pull on it. She finally moved down and put her face between my ass cheeks and started rimming me. I was in ecstasy. I could not move my hands or my feet. I was captive, tied there with my own shorts and their panties. One girl had her tongue slowly working around in my asshole, and the other was forcing my chin up into her cunt. I shuddered and moaned and Clare said, "Don't you dare come, you fucking cocksucker."
Bonnie lifted her face from my ass. I could feel that she had put a lot of saliva there. I anticipated what would be done. Clare got up and got a dildo out of her dresser, and I really got scared-it was huge. I'd never be able to take that, I thought. Jesus, what was I getting into ... ?
But she wanted to use it on herself. She stuck it up her cunt-It fitted easily-and had me take the bottom in my teeth and push and pull with my face, fucking her with the dildo. Bonnie, in the meantime, was sliding a finger in and out of my asshole, taking dives between my legs to lick my cockhead.
God, it went on forever, it seems. They teased my asshole with the dildo, but didn't force it on me. Bonnie stood at the side of the bed as Clare held it. Bonnie bent forward. "What do you want me to do with it?" Clare asked me.
"Fu ... fuck her," I mumbled.
"Where?" Clare asked.
I swallowed. "In the ass."
She rammed it up Bonnie's ass. Then they kissed again and Bonnie walked around with the plastic cock sticking out of her ass. She lay back on the floor and let Clare insert it in her cunt: then back in her ass, taking turns. They giggled like children and I lay there with a massive hard-on, a wonderful headache, and the desire to come bursting inside me.
Finally, they came back to me. They had ignored me during their little dildo game, and that infuriated me, made me feel like shit-which was part of the game. Hell, who wouldn't feel like shit? You're lying there with a big hard-on and the girls are getting off on some cold plastic piece of fake phallus. Talk about your masculinity being destroyed ...
I lay there upset, excited. I wanted them to let me fuck them, and yet I only wanted to be used by them. I wanted them to make me feel rotten, which would actually make me feel good. I'm an actor, and I love scenarios. This one was a good production.
It finally culminated in one of the most erotic, lustful, wildly satisfying climaxes of my life. They turned me over and tied me again, with my cock standing straight up. They took turns mounting me, all the time debasing me with language. "His cock feels like a dog's," Bonnie said. "Is there something in me?" Clare asked, riding me. "I can't feel anything."
I was saying, in my head, Yes you can, you fucking bitch! You can feel that cock because it's eight inches long and it's thick and it's the best thing you've ever had up your goddamn hot pussy! Fuck you, you fucking bitch! You CUNT!
Jesus, it was terrific.
They started kissing, on top of me, letting me watch their breasts swing over my chest. Then they kissed closer and closer to my cock-I was begging them, silently, to touch it, to kiss it, to suck it-and they kept hovering around it, licking each other's lips and chins and yet they didn't once touch it. I made it move, trying to get it near their lips. But they would pull away. Finally, Clare turned to me and reached up and put two fingers in my mouth. I started sucking them, and Bonnie was doing the same to me, only where it counted. She-was sucking my cock. She was fantastic. I was near coming, and I said so, so she stopped.
"They're weren't ready to have me hit yet. They wanted to do it first, to each other. Bonnie slid her fingers up Clare's pussy, both of them moaning and carrying on again as if I weren't even there, and finally Clare came and the bed shook. Then she started eating Bonnie and fingering her ass and I just about came myself watching it. Bonnie reached a shuddering climax and squealed so loud I think she stopped ships in the river.
Then they took care of me. They put their heads together and both sucked on my cock. Then Bonnie licked my nuts as Clare whacked me off. She stopped just before I came. Then Clare slapped me across the face for moaning too loudly. I begged them to let me come. Clare knelt between my legs and pressed her knees up against my moving balls, her hand stroking my cock. I felt the binding on my legs and wrists, holding me there. Bonnie straddled me, facing me also, her pussy just a few inches above my cockhead, which was wet because of Clare's beautiful stroking.
"Come now, baby boy," Clare said.
I felt my balls tightening; it was going to happen this time. There would be no stopping it. I looked down and saw the hand stroking me, the spread pussy above it. Bonnie said, in a straight, almost nonchalant voice, "Oh, hell, I have to pee."
"Oh, well," Clare said, still stroking me.
Jesus, yes ... do it ... do it! My brain screamed. I froze, watching, my eyes wide, the orgasm ready to burst, but first I had to see if she would really ...
Sure enough. Bonnie said, "I'll just have to do it here," and she let go with a waterfall of clear piss. It flooded the head of my cock, splashed over Clare's hand, and formed a puddle down under my balls, on my ass. As it hit my cock, I shot off to the moon. Cum and piss mixed together and I dropped my head back and howled to the high heavens. I pulled so hard I ripped my hands free, and reached up to cup Bonnie's beautiful boobs in my palms.
We were wet, soaked. I was done, finished. Bonnie fell on top of me and kissed me. Clare put my cock into her mouth and held it there until it was soft. Then we all took a shower together and laughed and giggled-no more domination, just three people having a good time, good fun. I asked if that was their usual course of action, and it was ... they even kept a rubber sheet on the bed for special occasions and this had been one. Clare said that, "Special occasions ..."
"Why was it special?" I asked.
"'Cause you're hot," Bonnie said. "I dig your cock." I guess I liked hearing that because it made me know we had really been playing a game-she had liked my cock. And Clare told me the best pictures she'd ever taken were of me, and she showed them to me. She'd spent the day developing them, and they were good. They even turned me on. Then she showed me the ones of us taken with the automatic timer. As I looked at the pictures, my cock got hard again. Soon, it was up Bonnie's cunt as she was eating Clare's pussy.
It went on like that all night.
I won't say anything more about woman/man/woman. What else is there to say? If you haven't developed a desire or a few tips from that little scene, you're not ready for anything but whacking off in the john. (Hope you whacked off in the john while reading it, 'cause I did while typing it. What a terrific memory, and I'm glad I've been able to share it!)
PART SIX: Lovemaking Letters
April 20, 1975 Ontario, Canada
Dear Grant (Tracy),
My name is Don Sanguinet and I'm twenty-four years old. I have just bought and read the most fantastic book of my life. Yours. It has opened up a lot of dark closets in my head. I guess I've always felt the same about men and women as you have. I have to say you've done some things that I've never tried to do. It's hard to say this, but at twenty-four I'm still a virgin. I had one experience with an older boy when I was about twelve or thirteen years old but I didn't really understand just what he was doing to me and it just felt good to have my dick sucked and played with at that age. He tried to fuck me in the ass but I was too uptight because I just didn't understand it. I am kind of shy in my own way, and I can't get close to anybody unless I get to know them, and I didn't know him.
I've always liked looking at men's cocks. At first I just wanted to see if they had the same thing in their pants as I did. I soon found out that they did, some smaller than me, some larger, fatter, skinnier. It amazed me. I have to admit I really liked the centerfold in the book.
I think I've been interested in men's and girl's bodies ever since I was young. There never seemed to be any difference in my interest, I mean I wanted to know about both men and women. I was the only kid in my family. I had a sister but she died when I was only five, so I've been alone since. I have been going through a rough time. I thought I was queer all these years because I knew I liked looking at good-looking men. But I liked good-looking girls also. It confused me. Until I read The Happy Hustler. You made me see that there really isn't anything like "queer." You can trick with men and women and it doesn't mean you're flaky or something other people have said all these years. Thank God, morals are changing today. I think people like you and many others who are honest about sex and their feelings have their heads screwed on better than the so-called straights who put down everything but a guy fucking his wife. We all have feelings, we all have hearts, and you have to love and please people no matter what their sex is.
I told you I am still a virgin. Well, to tell you the truth, I'm sick of it. Sick of beating off again and again. I'd love to fuck someone, get sucked off, anything! I don't know why I haven't done anything about it. I guess I don't really know how, but your book helped. I hope you write another one and tell more of how to go about having good sexual times and making love to girls and guys. I was going with a girl and I really loved her. She was the first person I felt that way about, but all she kept saying was that she wanted to have a baby. She didn't want to get married, ever. She wanted a baby. It would drive me crazy if she had my child and she took off and I'd never see him again.
You know, I have a great fantasy. I would like you to teach me how to make love. I would like to maybe be a hustler someday because it sounds so great, and there is travel and money involved. I know there are bad times also, but I want to try. I hope I get to meet you-I do every night in my fantasies-so you could break me in. I would give anything to have sex with you. The only way I've had sex has been with my pillow and my hand. I'm a pretty horny person and all I have to do is think about some pussy and cock and I get one hell of a hard-on. My cock is about 6 inches long and I used to think that was small until you told me some hustlers were that size and that size doesn't mean anything.
Wherever you are and whatever you're doing, I will always think of you and the enjoyment you bring to people. Keep well, Mr. Grant Tracy Saxon.
With all my love,
Don Sanguinet
PS. If you know of a good house in Ontario, would you let me know? It's one way to start.
Don, no one can teach you how to make love. We can only tell what we know and hope there is some inspiration there. Thanks for the compliments, but remember that hustling is not all money and travel. Not all hustlers are happy ones. I don't think you should worry about becoming a hustler at this stage of the game; it's time to concentrate on losing that virginity of yours. You are a sexual person, young, horny (as you say), so, why remain a virgin if you are all those things and probably bisexual, too?
Go out there and have a ball. Lots of guys and girls are waiting for you!
4/30/75
Dear Grant,
You seem to be a very serious man and I agree totally with your philosophy. If I weren't married to a very jealous man, I would be interested in meeting you and still am. I do know you are retired from hustling now, but I mean talking.
I have a question for you that is rather hard to work out in words, but I hope not hard for you to answer.
Did you ever meet a woman who couldn't enjoy sex? Perhaps that was the reason she came to you-a man with experience dealing with women, who might be her last resort for finding herself or a pleasure she had never known. I'm assuming, of course, that her problem was emotional and mental, not physical. Possibly she was a woman who needed to love and/or have a relationship with more than one man just because she found she needed it emotionally.
It is very difficult for me to explain what I mean, especially on paper. I hope you understand and, if you do, can tell me what you did for her-how you handled it and if she had told you her problem before or after or at all (maybe you just guessed it). And did she keep coming to you for help and if she did, how did you handle it when you stopped being a prostitute. Do you still keep in verbal contact with her?
I do hope you understand what I'm talking about and would really appreciate knowing how you feel.
Thanks for listening,
Darlene Jonson
Darlene, I think I've met many such women, women like yourself. It usually isn't that they can't enjoy sex, they just don't enjoy it with the man they are married to or living with, and so they go to a "man of experience," as you called them. The problem is nearly always emotional, and this book was written for those women and their men, hoping that some of the ideas here will help them enjoy their sex lives more. I don't want to put hustlers out of business, but I'm all for being able to make love to the person you love, and not having to run away from your lover to find a satisfying sex life.
Many women need more than one sexual relationship. If that is your problem, and you feel the need to tell the men you love, then you must tell them. You can't feel guilty. You can only be what you are, and if they love you, they will accept the situation. Convince them it isn't taking love away from them; it is only supplying you with what you need.
I still write and see many women who were customers, women like the woman you describe. Most of them have been able to liven up their sex lives with their lovers; some of them haven't and are still paying male prostitutes. Each case is different. But everyone I've known has worked for more understanding and more communication with their lovers, their husbands, their mates. It's a start to a better sex life.
Good luck.
May 1975
Grant Tracy Saxton:
Congratulations on your great and informative book, The Happy Hustler. Now that I've read your book and Xaviera's books, I find my whole idea of prostitution radically changed. Prostitutes, male or female, were always thought of as being sick, dirty, heartless and perverted sex machines. Now I find those assumptions to be totally wrong. You are human, with feelings, and are probably more normal than most of us "normal" people. The information in your book should be taught in all high schools, as the other side of the story not presented by the back-ass ward conservative administrators of today.
You said you were "bisexual." Now, I'll show my ignorance. Would you mind explaining the term further? My reason is: I have dreams or fantasies of making it with both women and men, the same when I masturbate. Because of my ignorance, I constantly condemned myself for being a homosexual or gay, not knowing there was a position between being straight or gay. I've really made myself sick over this and it has affected my social life for the past four years. I enjoy the company of both sexes and am sexually attracted to both sexes. So am I "bisexual" or what the hell am I?
Secondly, since you are bisexual, how did you get over the mental block of feeling you were a homosexual, simply because you enjoy sex with either sex? So as you can see, for a ninteen-year-old college student, I'm not really very intelligent.
Thanks for your time and hopefully your help. Better luck with those fucking "pigs" in Chicago. But remember they are victims of society, as I feel I am, due to the problems I have about getting over gay fears.
Thank you,
Ben
We're all victims of society, Ben, but we all can be survivors. First of all, I don't think you're nearly as ignorant as you make yourself out to be. You are smart enough to know you like both sexes, smart enough to admit it to yourself. I hate labels. But we're stuck with them. Don't let them mean so much; take them less seriously. So what if someone calls you a faggot? Who really cares? What's important is what you call yourself, and that should be a person, a sexual person. The fact that you're bisexual, that you swing both ways, that it is just as pleasing and easy for you to have sex with another man as it is a woman, is only part of your sexual makeup, only a facet of your being.
What you are, at least in my estimation, is "normal." I believe man is basically bisexual and conditioning factors in his environment cause him sometimes to be exclusively heterosexual, sometimes exclusively homosexual, and sometimes he remains in the middle of the road. We live in a society which is still family-oriented, and that means heterosexuality is stressed as the normal route; homosexuality is called abnormal because it violates the idea of the family; bisexuality is unacceptable, too, because it includes homosexuality and that violates ... etc.
Well, things are changing. Dylan told us that a long time ago (Bob, not Thomas) and it's true; have you been reading magazines in the past two years? Bisexuality has been emphasized to such an extent that it seems to the chic thing to be. Forget about chic; be yourself. And homosexuality, as a recent major magazine said, was once called the "love that dare not speak its name ... now it won't shut up." Gay liberation can be noisy. And don't worry, heterosexuality will be around forever; no need worrying about the family institution collapsing.
So why are you troubled? Because you've been conditioned to think gay is wrong, and even though you still like girls, just the fact that you masturbate thinking about boys worries you. You want to know what a bisexual is I think you know. It's simple: a person who has sexual relations with members of both sexes. Does that make you strange and sick and unbalanced? I think not; I think you are more balanced, girls on one side, boys on the other. Boys and girls together. There is a position between straight and gay. And even if you tend toward one or the other, so what? What counts is that you be true to yourself. If you feel you want to sleep with a guy, do it. The next night you want a girl? Have her. You feel like making love to boys for six months? Fine. Don't feel troubled if a girl comes along and sweeps you off your feet (and into bed) in the seventh month. Go with it. Enjoy it. You only live once.
Philadelphia, PA.
Dear Mr. Saxon,
I just happened to stay home today (April 30) and I turned on a talk show, the Phil Donahue Show, and you were on. First of all, I would like you to know that I'm seventeen, a senior in high school. I'm a black girl and a virgin. I've just read your book and loved it simply because you were you. It's so nice to meet a person who is willing to admit life isn't a bed of roses. And, personally, I'm scared shitless. But not because of the sex world. I think sex is part of life and I just haven't gotten to that part yet. Maybe that's what it is. I've never made love to anyone, but I'm not going to push it because I know it will happen in the right time. I guess I'm scared because everyone seems to want to push me. I just know that I won't be a virgin forever. But I wish my friends would stop putting me down because I am. I will know when it is the right time. Don't you agree? I hope so.
You're a good person and whether you answer this or not, you are now one of my good friends.
Take it easy,
Love you,
Mary Anne Jackson
I hope you got the answer I wrote you, Mary Anne, because I loved your letter and felt for you. No one should be pushed or forced into doing anything sexual until they decide it for themselves. Yes! You're right! You'll know when the time is right for you: when the person is right. It's so good to hear from a teen-age girl who has her head together. I loved your letter simply because you were you.
Stay that way and don't let anyone change you or push you into anything. Be yourself and hold steady. Your friends will ultimately respect you more for it.
Halifax, Nova Scotia
April 21, 1975
Dear Mr. Saxon,
I just read The Happy Hustler-WHAT A STORY! I guess they'll make a movie out of it one day, but no movie could ever quite capture your business escapades, especially after the censors were finished with it. Once I started reading it, I could not put it down until I finished. I have never been with a male before, but reading your book certainly caused an immediate biological reactions on my part. Here I am, twenty-five years old and still finding there is more to my sexual nature than I supposed.
I enjoy reading a great deal ... Shakespeare, Aristotle, etc. I majored in the Classics-Greece and Rome-while in college here. I love reading Greek tragedies, myths, cults, etc. Your book has given me second thoughts as to why I enjoy reading about their sexual preferences and statuary. It would have made an interesting discussion topic in class.
I think you would make an excellent psychologist, for a better understanding of the human being could not be found than in your book, and you are so damned honest and open about it all, which is what I admire so much. I only wish you had mentioned Halifax in your last chapter (what a sexual breakdown). You forgot us Canadians! We are supposed to be a cross between the English and the Americans. How is that for a combination?
I want to say also I was really moved by your affair with Shelley. Somehow, we all hurt someone we love sometime in life, and most of us try and forget it, but not you-you really do care for people and I do not mean just sexually. I am still trying to figure out just who and what I am and what I want. To care about my fellow human beings does mean a great deal to me and it seems to me that you have found your way of seeking fulfillment to that end. There is a belief that if all soldiers went into battle nude, there would be no wars. There is truly nothing more beautiful or human than two people making love, and it should not matter what sex they are.
Society bans nudity and sex on television and yet allows children to watch murders and robberies and such. Then the churches say we should love one another and not kill but don't openly oppose our present television standards-what hypocrisy!
Anyhow, getting back to your book. I have to add a positive comment about your centerfold-you do have a beautiful body and you are well hung, as the saying goes. What do you do to keep in shape? I jog, play tennis, etc.
From the book I see you enjoy traveling and a major target of yours is one of mine-RUSSIA. I still prefer the name Saint Petersburg to Leningrad. I took several courses in Russian history and I am fascinated by it. Wish we could go there sometime. But that's a fantasy. Sorry.
So again, thank you for an enjoyable evening and if you ever get to Halifax, I'd love to show you around. I sincerely wish you well and the best of luck.
Yours sincerely,
David Allen
P.S. This may seem a naive sexual question, but what exactly is the act of rimming?
David, your letter was refreshing, and I was touched by your thoughts and the fact that you shared them with me. I think everyone reading it will be pleased that you decided to let me share it with them. The soldiers to battle. You are so right, when you say there is truly nothing more beautiful or human than two people making love ... and it matters not what sex. That's the whole point of my belief, the whole premise of Making Love. (It was your letter, by the way, that specific line, which gave me the title for this-thank you!)
I'm sorry I forgot you Canadians, but in the next book I'm going to devote a whole chapter to you. How's that?
I'm glad you are finding out that there is something more to your sexual nature than you supposed at twenty-five. I hope the same happens to you at thirty-five and at eighty-five. I tend to think it will, because you have the right attitude and interests to keep you healthy and alive, physically and mentally, sexually and sensually. Thanks for the compliments, but I'm sure I could give them to you too. I do the same things you do to keep in shape. I've always liked jogging, and since I moved into my new house in Los Angeles, I've started playing tennis, and I love it.
When I get to Halifax, we'll have a match. Until then, keep making love.
Oh, don't be embarrassed by asking about rimming. It's good to see some naivete out there. "Rimming" is really a homosexual term for an act which has crossed the lines of sexual preference and now applies to bi and straight acts as well. Rimming, simply, means putting your mouth to another person's anus. Once you get there you can kiss and lick and breathe and blow and suck and do anything and everything your mouth will do. All that is included when you say you "rimmed" someone. It means ass-kissing. And it's a nice thing to do to someone you love.
Atlanta. August 15, 1975
Dear Tracy,
I wish you would devote a whole book to lovemaking. I mean both in the spiritual sense and the physical. We all need tips and pointers from people like you. I'm tired of another doctor coming out with a diet book one week and a sex technique manual the next. I'd rather hear from someone young, experienced and uninhibited, like you. It was a joy to learn of new positions and get ideas I've never had before. Tell us more!
Bravo!
Best wishes,
Marion L.
Marion ...
This is it. I have much more to tell, but I have to save some for the next book.
5/31/75
Dear Friend Tracy,
I call you "friend" because you are all that and much more to all of us who have enjoyed your story. I guess we all relate to your attitude so much, and that's where the essence of your happiness lies, in your openness and lack of guilt. I've read your revolutionary marvelous book three times to make certain that I wasn't dreaming. My only regret about my own style of living is that there aren't more stout-hearted men of your breed who will convince the so-called bigoted "straights" (and I don't only mean that sexually) that they are hypocrites, frustrated, gutless specimens of humanity who, in most cases, try to cover their secret desires by condemning those who, with conviction, and with satisfaction, do just what we do.
Your book was especially appealing to me because in many instances I could almost say that I was reading about myself. And how I lived it! I was never into hustling for money, and now after reading your book I realize how stupid I was, for I could have done much for myself with the cock and balls and ass God gave me. But, thank God, I at least knew enough to enjoy all three assets, even though there was no money involved. I've had quite a life, too, and if I have the good fortune to receive a reply from you, I will give you enough material to write another book from which we would both profit. But for the moment, we, the people who have given sex a new dimension, should strive forever anon to educate the hypocrites. Sex is not only here to stay, but to be enjoyed with no limitations.
In an army camp, a so-called "straight" MP caught me and a Gl who had his eight-plus dong up my rear end. When we started to separate he said we could finish our fun provided he could be the next in line [which I almost regretted with his nine-and-a-half-inch dick]. That incident blew my mind. How many of us keep our real feelings locked up inside and don't even have the courage to do something about it when the situation is open to us, like the MP years ago.
Anyhow, you're a godsend, and I hope you will continue this much needed re-evaluation of sex and its unfounded curses.
Sincerely,
Jerry
Jerry ...
I think you're wrong about one thing, that we've given sex a new dimension. I think sex has given us a new dimension, and we are merely open enough to show it. Don't feel bad about not getting money for your cock, balls, and ass. Be happy you had a good time with them. Don't condemn "straights" so much, but feel sorry for them and try your best to continue to educate them, to make them see what joys there are in all realms of sexuality, to help them overcome their fears.
Dear Mr. Saxon:
Because I travel internationally for a living (I am a professional tour director, resolving difficulties for business and pleasure travelers on tours worldwide), I don't often have the luxury of watching television.
The other morning I caught most of the program on Phil Donahue and your promotion of The Happy Hustler.
Since then, I have been trying to obtain the book, but either I live in an intensely conservative city (and a small one at that), or the popularity of the book is so great that I haven't been able to acquire it. I don't yet know. But I'll find it, you can bet on that.
One thing that I think you should bring out to an audience in the future is this: The older, more conservative, element in our society does not understand-the difference between LOVE and LUST, whereas I think the upcoming generation does. One can lust after another's body (or brain) and love doesn't enter the picture. One can love another until death, and leave sex aside entirely. One immense hang-up in today's society is the inability to understand that THERE is A DIFFERENCE. When infidelity occurs, the American woman (primarily) thinks, Well, my husband doesn't love me any more-in fact, all he is doing is satisfying a sexual urge.
If you brought out this aspect of love/lust, since you are articulate and intelligent, I think more people would be able to understand the role you (and others like you) play in our society today. (Incidentally, if you ever need some help in traveling, please let me know. I'd be glad to help without charge.)
Sincerely,
Jack Baker
Jack, thanks for pointing out the difference between love and lust. I'd skipped it in this book, I realized, when I reread your letter. I think it's an important point. But how wonderful when you can lust after someone you also love.
I'm toying with the idea of a trip around the world. Care to set it up?
5/7/75
Dear Grant,
You will NOT get any hate mail from me. Your appearance on the Phil Donahue Show has just ended. What bigots there always seem to be in those audiences! I get awfully sick of Bible quotes, even though I'm a good Christian. Those broads are always speaking out of the both sides of their mouths. I was afraid the audience today would tear you to shreds, but you held your own, and thank God there were a number of sensible, thinking people there. It was an exhilarating experience.
I'd be willing to bet most of those women who disapproved of you have husbands who lie awake half the night hurting, while their wives insist they have the world's worst headache.
Believe it or not I am hitting sixty-two and I have no fault to find with you. For thirty-five years I lived with a man who became old and impotent at fifty, because he had been brainwashed into believing that you are old at fifty. He died of old age at fifty-eight-literally, of old age. I loved him, but the day he died I began to live again.
Sex? Sure, I like sex and I have some darned good partners. I have had several wonderful associations that were entered into with the vow from each of us there would be no demands, no hurt feelings. It can be done.
Sex and cancer are two words people seem to think should be whispered and never said out loud. How stupid! Thank God for the free spirits and free thinking of today's society. Even the marriage vows are being changed from "as long as you both shall live" to "as long as you both shall LOVE." It astonished me the first time I heard the change, but, after all, doesn't it make more sense?
Not everyone may have agreed with you or approved of you, but damn it, you sure did rattle their cages today. (But what do you expect of a society of squares who are just beginning to find out about homosexuality, let alone bisexualitv?)
I commend you and your behavior on the show. You were great! Much good luck. I will keep my eyes peeled for your book. I really want to read it now.
Sincerely,
Irene Lassen (Mrs.)
I was really pleased by Irene's letter-I remember thinking, right after I read it, how I wished everyone, of every age, could think like her. How much better the world would be, and not only sexually. She's so right about being brainwashed into thinking you grow old after fifty. I know some people who are twenty but are seventy in the way they act, think, live. I know a great grandmother in her late seventy's who has the spirit of a teenager. Age is in a person's head. Sure, the body will slow down, but it never gives out. Sex can be enjoyed into the twilight years and beyond. Making love at sixty can be as fresh and alive as it was at thirty. Old age should have nothing to do with sex. Old sex is really the problem. No matter what age-don't let your love life grow stale and old. Keep it alive and new, young and original. Remember, no matter how many times you've done something, you can find an original thought to go with it, an original movement, the subtlest of changes, to keep it new and interesting.
Irene, I think you'd like to know that the same women who greet me on the talk shows with Bible quotes and warnings of my going to hell are always the first women in line afterward to pull a copy of my book from their purses and ask for autographs. Double standards for those dear Christian ladies. I don't dislike them, I feel sorry for them. Yes, their cages are being rattled, and it is best that they rattle. It must come as a shock to suddenly find out the neighborhood track star is gay and the neighbors themselves have been having orgies with the Johnson's down the block. But we have to open our eyes and look at life as it is, not as we would like it to be.
The change in wedding vows is beautiful. Yes, it does make more sense. I only hope people will be able to admit to themselves when the loving is really over and learn that they can love again and still hold dear to their hearts that first great relationship. Being able to fall in love and live with someone is a great thing, but an equally wonderful gift is knowing how to fall out of love without pain and suffering, and learning to live with the happiness which comes from having had the chance to love at all. Often people live a lifetime without knowing love. I want everyone to know it.
Bless you, Irene. With more people like you in the world, everyone will know it.
April 17, 1975
Dear Grant Tracy,
Just read The Happy Hustler and you mentioned S&M several times, scenes, descriptions, how you participated. But It was all for money, or it was playing a role. What do you really think about pain in sex? I'm into a heavy' S&M scene with my lover. We have been for about three years now. Do you think people can be in love and still get off on inflicting pain and punishment in the bed department? I think so. Just wondering what you feel.
Take care.
Best,
John
John, I don't put down anything that's sexual including every variation on an S&M theme. Hell, yes, two people can love each other and express it by giving and receiving pain. The important thing to remember is to do what you must do, to please yourself and please your lover. There are all degrees of S&M sexual play. What may seem sadistic to one person may be timid to another. There are no rules or standards. Pain is so relative that often when people speak of it I find it hard to understand what they are really trying to say. And there are so many kinds of pain.
Sado-masochism can be more than just a game, and perhaps I haven't made that point clear in this book. It is role-playing, acting, and all those things, but it can be very real, in the sense that it really is lovemaking, not just a variation in your usual sexual activity. For the couple who have a balance-one of the partners likes to feel pain, the other loves to inflict it-things should work out perfectly, and S&M will be a way of sexual life with them. For others it will be different and perhaps not quite so serious, for the deep meaning is not there-the feeling that giving and receiving pain is a sure sign of deep love and sensual interest. It depends on the people, and their honesty in informing each other of what it is that turns them on.
I've been in some S&M situations where it was more than a game, more than playing a part. I really got into it on occasion. And I wasn't even hustling any more. There's a little (or a lot) of the sadist in us all, and a little (or a lot) of the masochist, too. Find out for yourself, about yourself and S&M. Then go with it and be happy.
May 3, 1975
Dear Grant or Tracy,
Whatever your name, I just finished your autobiography and I'm left quite drained. I'm now going on seventeen and I'm probably the only kid I know who has realized my potential as a bisexual and it drives me out of my mind that I can find no males my age who can reciprocate any homosexual desires I have. I don't normally write letters to strangers, and hardly to writers of books like The Happy Hustler, but for some reason I feel I know you. A portion of your book describes when you and Kent were together before he left for the academy and it brought memories of my own first homosexual experience, and the pain I suffered when it was over. I ended it through fear of becoming "queer." I had just turned fifteen and had also begun to date the girl who was to take my virginity. She found out, but I think she was bi also.
I started everything early. I was masturbating three or four times a day at age nine and was always aware of sexuality. I had a happy childhood and so far things seem to be just getting better as time goes on. I live in a suburb of Chicago and I occasionally get into the city. I will be entering college this fall.
I love fucking and I love it with both sexes, but I haven't done much with my own [sex] since I was fifteen. What can I say? I'm horny as hell!!! You mentioned in your book you regularly give discounts to students. Like how? I consider myself not endowed well enough to hustle (even though it is my favorite dream) because I only have an average six-inch penis and my balls aren't very big. It would be fun to hustle and help my dad pay for my college. Am I foolish to want to make money with my body at my age and in my physical condition? (I could stand to lose a few pounds. I'm healthy, but pudgy.) I wish I could talk to you. This letter is being written out of sexual frustration and physical exhaustion. I know it's almost impossible to see you and I have little money, so I can't be a customer. Could you at least write me?
Love,
Jerry Greenberg
Jerry, about the name-my real name is Michael Kearns, but Grant Tracy Saxon is the name I used as a hustler, and I wrote The Happy Hustler thinking I wasn't going to reveal my real name. So both Michael or Grant/Tracy are right.
About being a hustler. It was a terrific profession for me, but that doesn't mean it would be for you. It shouldn't be thought of as a way of life, as an end in itself. It's only a yourself and other people happy, but it can also be filled with heartache and loneliness. I didn't want Hustler to glamorize it, though my life has been "glamorous" in many ways; I wanted to glamorize my zest for living and loving people. Maybe becoming a hustler is right for you, maybe not. If you really sit down and think about it, ask yourself the right questions, you'll find the answers. It is a "profession" very few young people can handle well. Believe me, I know. I've seen so many beautiful kids ruin their lives because they turned to prostitution. Their heads just weren't ready for it; usually they did it because they were running away from something. You have to run toward it to survive.
And stop thinking about how big or how not-so-big your cock is. I've known many hustlers, damn good ones, who have had average penises. A good friend of mine from my New York days is still a top call boy and he's only got five inches. So it matters not what you have, but how you use it, as the old saying goes. Remember, too, that there's so much more to hustling, so much more to prostitution, than just the physical act. Are you ready to become mother, father, sister, brother, lover, confessor, etc., to all those people?
Your awareness of your physical condition is smart. Yes, lose weight. As I said before, you can't be too slim today. To be in top physical condition is a requisite of life, not only of being a hustler. You should be in prime shape all the time-that's the only way you'll realize your sensual potential.
You say you're sexually frustrated. Well, if that's true, and I believe you when you say you're horny, then masturbate more and relieve some of that tension. You obviously want to have relationships with men and nobody responds, right? You say you live near Chicago. There are numerous places-and I don't mean bus station bathrooms-where you can meet young guys, guys who would probably reciprocate. You'd be in college, and the campus is the ideal place to meet other guys who want to sleep with their own sex. Be a little more aware also I'll bet there's a kid just like you who's been watching you and hoping the same things you've been hoping, but you haven't even noticed him because you're too busy worrying that no one will respond to you ... and you're probably still worrying a bit about being "queer." There is no such thing as queer, in a sexual sense. If you mean it as odd, well, there are a lot of oddballs walking around. But I'm talking about it sexually-the word queer is dead. (May it rest in peace forever.)
If we meet, we'll talk for a long time. But until then, get out there and realize your sexual potential and think less about what people will say. I hope this book has helped, and I hope the long letter I wrote you helped, too. Thanks for letting me print your letter in this book. I think other guys like you will benefit from it.
June 2, 1975
Dear Grant,
First of all, let me tell you that I felt very honored by receiving a letter of reply from you. It really made me feel good to know that you're real and you took the time to write to me.
Absolutely nothing can be better than your book. When I started reading it I found that I was totally captivated. So much so, I read it in one sitting, which kept me up half the night, but let me say one thing-I'll never regret the hours of sleep I missed that night. It was fantastic.
What made it so wonderful for me was the way you communicated. I understood everything you said; at times I felt very much the same emotion that you did. Whether it was happiness or sadness, it didn't matter. I felt all of it.
On page 24 you have a note "to the guys reading this." (Saying they ought to at least try sex with another guy, etc ... ) Well, I am going to try it. I've always wanted to, but I guess I never really had the courage to go through with it. I'm naturally open-minded, that's no problem, but how do I go about finding the right guy? How do I approach him when I do find him, or should I let him find me? Any advice that you're willing to offer will be deeply appreciated. Anyway, the point is, because of you and the book, I am going to do what I've wanted to do for a long time. I might like it, and I might not, but I'd go crazy wondering how I would react to it if I never gave in and did it. So, as you say, there's no harm in trying, and maybe a lot to gain. Thanks, then, for giving me that much-needed last ounce of courage. If you don't mind, I'll let you know how it turns out. Truthfully, I think I may like it because I don't have any feelings of repulsion like so many guys do when they think about having sex with another guy, and when I think about it it seems kind of mysterious, adventurous, but mostly exciting and fun!
I feel as though I know you already, as though you're a friend. Thanks for sharing yourself and a part of your life with me through your book.
Do you ever come to Cincinnati?
Very truly,
Kevin Ebner
Kevin, you can find each each other. Become more aware of the guys around you. See the way the kid at the bus stop each morning looks at you" with interest? He wants you. You know the waiter who always rushes to bring you and your friends Cokes? You see the guy at the gas station, the way he watches you walk by? How he talks to you, about being "open-minded?" They're all trying to tell you the same thing you want to tell them: let's go and make love. Be as honest as possible with the guy you'd like to go to bed with, and if he says no, then he said no. But chances are he'll say yes. Try and see.
Never been to Cincinnati, but maybe on the next book tour?
December 1, 1975
Dear Grant,
Caught you on the John Barber Show here in LA. today. My wife and I had read your book and freaked out that you were suddenly on our TV. Listen, we both think you're a terrific guy. You think like we do (or like we try to). You'll think we're crazy, but we read each other passages of your book one night and got very turned on. Then we did a few of the scenes you described. Blew us away!
Got to ask you a question. Did you ever have anyone put a big rubber band around the base of your cock and under your balls? My wife does it to me all the time and I keep rock hard for hours and when I finally come it seems to be better than normal. Is it dangerous? It's been fun for both of us, but we wondered if we're wrecking blood vessels or something. If you know, we'd love to know (especially me, of course ... it's my cock).
Listen, I have to thank you for something else. Reading your book helped break down my wife's inhibitions a little bit. I've been suggesting having a three-way with a chick we both know. The girl is into guys and girls both, and we know that. That's what's been freaking Susan out. She knows if we have the girl over, she'll have to make love to her. The idea turns me on, but she fought it. Until she read your book, that is. I guess your encouraging everyone to try it all at least once, got through to her. I think you're right-on about bisexuality, even though I'm still not ready to go down on another dude. Maybe someday, though. There, I said it. Proud of me?
We're proud of you. Write some more. I think there's a lot of others like us who need it.
Peace.
Elliot (& Susan)
Elliot and Susan, thanks. I hope if you got into your three-way scene, it went well. Making love doesn't have to be limited to two people, and it can be shared by two who love each other deeply with another who may be there for only the hour. As long as you make each other feel loved-all three of you-while you're making love, then you're okay.
About the rubber band around the cock, what you're talking about is a form of cock ring, which I've mentioned in this book already. The rubber band is a primitive form, I guess you'd say, and I don't like it personally because it hurts-your pubic hair always get caught in the rubber. The hair gets yanked out of your skill, and it hurts like hell. Steel or leather cock rings do the job beautifully, and can be bought for little money. If Susan is enterprising, she can make you one out of leather. Or have her put a bunch of rubber bands together and cover them with velvet or something equally as soft. I received one of those from a fan a few months ago and it worked like a charm.
You're right about it being a good sensation and keeping your cock hard for a long time. Is it safe? Every good thing can be overdone. What you have to remember is that if your cock starts turning blue, it's time to take it of. The cock ring holds the blood in your organ and doesn't let it out. If you keep it there for too long the ring will act like a tourniquet. And your cock will be in a splint for a, long time if you don't watch It. Use it sparingly, and you'll be using it for a long time.
And, yes, I'm proud of you. Hope the things in this book helped as much as the first one did.
May 8, 1975
Dear Grant,
It's taken me a week to gather up the courage to write a letter to you. Since I have some problems and no one to talk to, I finally decided to write you a letter.
I am a boy, sixteen years old, who suspects he's bisexual. (Well, not suspects, I'm pretty certain.) Since you said you are bisexual I think you are the person who could give me some advice.
About a week ago I saw you on the Phil Donahue Show. I thought you were great. I phoned every bookstore in town and asked them for your book, but none of them had it. I'll find it one of these days. Anyhow, you were correct in saying that one should be what he wants to be. I wasn't the least bit shocked when they said you were a prostitute and I think you put it beautifully when you said you helped people come out of their loneliness. (Oh, I saw the episode of The Waltons in which you appeared and thought you were wonderful. Even that helped me feel less lonely, because I thought about how upset the producers and everyone would be when they found out about your being the Happy Hustler and all. You make people have a good time.)
I said earlier that I'm quite certain I'm a bisexual. I used to think I was a homosexual because I only slept with boys, but since then I have awakened new desires for sleeping with girls. (I once loved a girl, but my feelings toward boys have been more constant.) To tell the truth, I have never slept with a girl, just with some male classmates. I have often felt lonely because of this. I guess I thought you had to be one or the other, straight or gay, and since I was sleeping with my buddies at school I figured I couldn't sleep with girls, too. Some of my classmates kid me that I'm a faggot (if they only knew!). I have no really close friends, no brothers or sisters, and I sometimes feel so lonely that the world seems a giant wall that surrounds me. I'm not feminine or delicate. I hate it when people laugh at gays, because I know what a guy feels like. I think no one knows what it feels like to have a friend whom you love very deeply but can't tell for fear of being rejected. I sometimes feel so lonely I go up to my room and cry.
I don't know what I'd do if my mother ever finds out what I am. I can still hear her calling you a pervert when she saw you on TV. I love her deeply and couldn't bear to make her suffer, but if I am to live my own life, she'll have to know sooner or later.
Well, enough Ann Landering. Do you know of some boy my age who feels the way I do? If so, send me his address. I hope you can write to me, too. Hope you keep on being as happy as you seemed on TV.
Love,
Michael
It isn't often you hear of a homosexual boy, or a boy whose only sexual contact had been homosexual, admitting that he is having bisexual fantasies and desires. I think it is often repressed by gay men, and that isn't good. They're cutting themselves off from experience, and how do they know they won't like it? I'm not advocating that the world be bisexual; I'm not trying to talk all gay guys into sleeping with girls once in a while. I'm merely saying that if you have any desire to make love to a woman, don't repress it. Face it and see what it's all about. Give it a chance.
Michael, you don't have to be gay or straight. Yes, you're right, you can be in the middle somewhere, leaning a little heavy to one side or the other, but forget about those labels. I only wish I could help you be less lonely. When your mother finds out you are what? a homosexual? a bisexual? Tell her you are merely sexual, just like her, just like everyone else in the world. Yes, you are to live your own life, and only you can be the judge of how much or what your mother knows. Your relationship should be based on love and caring, not fear and guilt; you love her, but you must someday, sometime, put your own life and happiness before hers. Calling me a pervert probably came, not so much from any real hatred of me or what I represent, as it came from a lack of understanding and education about sex. The best thing you could do is have an honest discussion. Perhaps she'll realize there is no such thing as a pervert. It won't be easy for you, but you may be doing a world of good for her.
Yes, many many boys your age-every age-feel the same way you do. Doesn't just that fact make you feel less lonely? And you have a friend in me.
Dear Grant,
First off, this isn't going to be one of those shitty letters telling you that you are sick and your book should be banned, etc. But first let me tell you a little bit about myself.
I'm eighteen, almost nineteen, and go to college in London [Ontario]. I haven't had as much sex as you, but I know quite a bit. I've had sex twice with guys and enjoyed it, but girls still turn me on more. I still, however, walk down the street and see a guy and think he is really cute and I want to go to bed with him. Does this make me a bisexual?
That isn't telling you about myself, that's asking about myself. Well, it troubles me, and I want your opinion because I respect it after reading your book. I like where your head is at. I thought your story was more sincere than the other books like it I've read. I really enjoyed it.
I have two things I want to tell you, and I hope you don't find the second one stupid. One is that I hope someday prostitution, stud services, whatever, will become legalized. I feel it benefits society. Secondly, I think your body is terrific! I got turned on by it. I just wish there had been a picture of you with an erection to show the readers what you really talked about. I would really like to meet you ... see! I really like girls, and here I'm telling a guy I got turned on by him. What does that make me? I would really like to meet you, if only to talk.
I hope you don't find this letter offensive. Any kind of reply would be appreciated, just to know you received this letter. Thanks for a great book.
Yours truly,
Donny Sarandon
I wish I had kept a copy of the letter I wrote back to Donny, for it was long and involved. But this book is supposed to convey my basic idea-and that is that we are all sexual. Whether it's homo, hetero, bi-what does it matter? They are merely labels. Prefixes, just like we learned in grade school, right? What matters is that we are sexual animals, and we accept ourselves as such. And that we're happy being that way.
Oh, society and guilt. Jesus, Donny is a far step ahead of many people, because he's pretty much accepted that there's nothing wrong with sleeping with a guy one night and a chick the next. But he isn't quite there yet, not quite to the point where he's accepting it easily, where he's mellow in his sexuality and making it a happy thing for himself, a joyous thing, a quiet thing.
Don, you ask if walking down the street and turning on to a good-looking guy makes you bisexual because the night before you slept with a girl ... sure. It makes you bisexual, if you want to call it that. I like the word; it seems less offensive than homosexual or heterosexual. But I detest all those labels. What you have to realize is that it doesn't matter what you call yourself, what anyone else calls you. What matters is that you can say, hell, today I in turning onto that hunky dude standing there on the street corner. And tomorrow you can beat off over the cute girl in the new Penthouse. If calling yourself bisexual pleases you, then by all means, you're bisexual. If you want to call yourself basically heterosexual with homosexual leanings now and then, fine too. Whatever makes you happy. The thing is, don't be troubled by it. Any kind of sexuality is good, wonderful, terrific, and natural. Accept it. Embrace it. And smile.
You made me smile by telling me you turned onto me' that's a great compliment. Sorry for the lack of erection shots, but it was rough enough getting the book onto the shelves the way it was [with the nude. centerfold]. But again, don't be troubled by the fact that you looked at a picture of a guy and got excited. Enjoy it. If it makes you feel good, pull out your cock and beat off. You know masturbation is one of the greatest tension-relieving techniques known to man (at least this man). If looking at pictures of women or men, nude or semi-nude or whatever, turns you on, then look at them and go all the way. Pornography (that's a terribly loose term, but it does convey some meaning) has a place in the world and it's a sexual one, it's sexual entertainment. The Happy Hustler was pornography of a kind, on one level, and I'm glad some of the stories, adventures, pictures, whatever, turned you on. It was meant to turn people on. Who wants to read something called The Happy Hustler and be bored?
One thing more, Donny: I agree with you that prostitution should be legalized. It will be someday. You're right-it does benefit society.
Don, I didn't find your letter offensive. Are you kidding? I found it warm, vulnerable, complimentary, and honest. What more could I ask for? All I ask of you is that you tell yourself it doesn't matter one bit, to yourself or anyone, whether or not you prefer girls over boys or vice versa. What matters is that you can accept the fact that sleeping with either sex is right for you, good for you, and a definite part of your sexual and emotional life. Why limit yourself to one or the other? This way you have 100 percent of the population covered!
