Introduction
"When I got back to Ronnie's apartment, he was gone—out on a date, I found out later. So I just plopped myself in bed, dead tired, and had myself some good dreams of the farm where I planned to be in a couple of days. I probably would've slept until noon the next day, but then—wouldn't you know it?—Archie showed up early in the morning.
"Letting himself in with his own key, Archie yanked the covers off me and said real loud: 'Hey, champ, c'mon, wake up. I've got another date for you, a real good one with a hefty bonus in it for you if you treat her right.' Then when I sat up, still half asleep, he went on to tell me how happy he was with how I'd done with Margy. Seems she phoned him and asked for me again in a few days or as soon as I was available.
"I wanted to tell Archie that I was through with the job, but, golly, he was so friendly and proud of me that I couldn't get up the nerve, especially when he slipped a couple of twenties into my hand and said they were just a little something extra from him to me.
"'This new date, what's she like, Archie?' I asked, hoping that she was a raunchy old bag type that I could use as an excuse to bail out.
"'She's Oriental, Tim, a beautiful Oriental broad from Hong Kong who's loaded with dough, but just too damn shy to meet boys on her own. Her name is Sue and she's not very old—about thirty, I'd say. Tells me she likes the companionship of boys because they sort of bring back memories of the son she lost to the Commies on the mainland.' "Well, of course, that made a whale of a difference, Sue being Oriental and kind of young and very shy. If all she wanted was to be reminded of her lost son, then I saw no reason why I shouldn't go ahead and keep the date. So what if I didn't look like a Chinese kid? At least I could pretend if that would make her happy. Probably she just wanted to talk about her lost son and about China while we drank tea together, which would be just fine with me.
"So I agreed and got myself dressed in another one of the special outfits Archie bought for me—I mean special because they were different from what I was used to. About an hour later, Archie dropped me off at her hotel in downtown Manhattan.
"He hadn't lied to me, either. Sue really was beautiful and about thirty years old. And she talked real shy when she asked me in, though not with much of a Chinese accent. 'So you're little Tim, how very nice,' she said with a pretty little smile, looking me over with those twinkling slanted eyes of hers. 'Sit down, please, Timmy, while I get some tea.' "Yeah, I was batting a thousand, so far. This is sure a lot better than last night with old goofball Margy, I thought as I watched Sue leave the living room in her sleek and silky Chinese gown, sort of admiring her nifty shape. And to think that I'm getting paid good money just for being here with Sue for a couple of hours, talking and drinking tea with her. What a snap!
"But, as I soon found out, it really wasn't going to be a snap. I was going to earn my money, every nickel of it, because Sue had not only made us a pot of tea in the five minutes she was gone, she had taken off all her clothes except for her pretty little jade-colored panties that barely covered her pussy. Also, she had let her long black hair down, so that she looked much younger with her tiny little cupcake tits and thin, smooth body.
"'You don't mind, do you, if I make myself comfortable?' she asked real softly. 'It's an old Chinese custom, you know, when a girl entertains a boy she likes.' "'No, I don't mind,' I answered, staring at her tits and panties and feeling my dick beginning to get hard. 'I want you to be comfortable, especially if it's your custom.' "'That brought a big smile to her pretty face and the next second she was parked across from me in a chair, pouring tea in the little Chinese cups she had set on the low table between us. 'This is special Chinese tea,' she said without looking up. 'It warms your blood and gets you in the mood for love.' "So the cat was out of the bag. Sue didn't want me for polite talk or to remind her of the son she'd lost—she wanted sex. And Archie, that dirty guy, he must've known it, too. I'd been tricked! But then, maybe I hadn't been tricked after all. Both Archie and Ronnie had told me to expect most anything from my dates. And I agreed to it—I had agreed to be nice to the old gals Archie lined up for me and to give them all the fun they wanted. Because that's what they were paying for.
"'Gee, I've never had any tea that does that to you,' I said, picking up the cup of tea she had poured for me and thinking that since I had come this far, I might as well go the rest of the way. At least, Sue was a lot better looking than old Margy, and she probably wouldn't be nearly so tough. At least, she wouldn't be apt to sit on my face.
"'I'm sure you will like it,' Sue said as I took the first sip. 'It will give you the biggest hard on you ever had and it will make me very passionate, too, so that we can make the most beautiful love together. You're so nice and young, Timmy—just perfect for me. I know we're going to have a wonderful, wonderful time today and tonight and maybe all day tomorrow, too. Tell me, you don't mind spending so much time with me, do you?' "'No, I don't mind,' I answered, beginning to feel a little tingly sensation all over me from the tea, especially in my dick. By now my dick was really hard, what with the sight of Sue's almost naked body. I was beginning to get sexy ideas, like what it would be like to suck on Sue's pretty little tits, and what her pussy looked like. If her pussy was half as pretty as the rest of her, I thought, it would be wonderful to see—maybe even to eat.
"So Sue didn't waste any time getting down to business when I satisfied her that I'd go along with anything she had in mind. 'Hurry, my darling little boy, my love. Drink down your tea,' she said as she finished her own cup and stood up in the center of the room, stepping out of her panties, showing me a puffy little pussy that could've belonged to a baby. I swear it's the truth. Sue's pussy didn't have the tiniest bit of hair on it. And her at least thirty years old. Wow!
"A couple of seconds later, I was out in the center of the living room with her, naked as a jaybird, my dick sticking way out hard as cement. 'Ahhhhhh, yes, I knew it!' she purred, taking my balls in one hand and my dick in the other, 'you're not only a beautiful boy but a real sexy one, too. Your cock and balls are so lovely, so delicious looking, I've just got to take them in my mouth.' And with that she dropped to her knees and did what she said.
"But not for long. A couple of seconds later she was on her back on the thick, soft carpet, lifting her knees up high and spreading them wide, begging me, 'Timmy, please, please fuck me! I'm so passionate, so terribly passionate! Your little cock and balls in my mouth have set my cunt on fire. If you don't fuck me quick, I'll go out of my mind!' "She wasn't kidding, either. I could see her eyes rolling back, and I could hear her sort of gasping for breath. Not only that, but I could see in her open pussy, all around the hole and folds of pink meat, a lot of glistening juice flowing out, reminding me of the spring we had back on the farm. I loved to drink out of that spring, the water was so cool and refreshing, and now, looking at Sue's beautiful pink pussy, I wanted to drink from it, too.
"'Miss Sue, you're so beautiful laying there like that,' I said to her as I fell down on my hands and knees between her legs, 'that I'll do anything and everything you want me to. I'll screw you until you come a hundred times, but first, if it's all right with you, I want to drink some of your pussy juice. Is that all right? Can I drink some of your pussy juice?' "'Yes, yes, yes!' she cried out, twisting like crazy in her passion, 'but please hurry. I can't wait much longer for your fucking!' "So I hurried. I sank my face into her pussy and licked for all I was worth for a few seconds, drinking the most delicious pussy juice in the whole wide world and loving every single drop of it. Then I shoved forward, eased my throbbing, rock-hard dick into her boiling-hot pussy, took one of her beautiful little cupcake tits full in my mouth and started my fucking. "Boy did Sue and me ever go at it then! I don't know what it was that got us so worked up—the tea, maybe, or maybe it was our natural passions—but whatever it was, we sure went to town, humping and squirming and bouncing around on the floor like a couple of infuriated wrestlers.
"Sue was the first to come. And how she did come. It was beautiful. She started crying at first, groaning out loud like a whipped baby, the tears pouring out of her slanted eyes, then laughing and saying a lot of things to me in Chinese that I didn't understand, though I could guess. While she was laughing and humping her little butt hard against me, I caught fire and exploded, too, shooting so much come into her belly that I thought she'd burst, all the while sucking harder and harder on those delicious tits of hers.
"Then, completely out of strength, we just sort of collapsed and died there on the floor.
"I don't know how long we were out, maybe an hour or two, but I do know that Sue was far from through. You see, she had woke up first and fixed herself some more of that special love tea. By the time I got around to waking up, she was hotter than a Chinese firecracker all over again and determined to drink me dry as I had tried to drink her dry before the big screw session. What I mean is, I woke up to find that Sue had my dick in her mouth, sucking on it for all she was worth.
"It's a wonder my dick could get hard so soon after my big come, but Sue sure had it hard, as hard as it could possibly get. And I've got to admit that what she was doing to it felt good. She had a way of sucking my dick that was ten times better than Margy's way. For one thing, Sue fucked it with her mouth instead of holding it in and tonguing it. And for another thing, she made the muscles in her mouth tight around it, like the muscles in a pussy. But she stopped when she saw me awake and came up with a better idea. 'Hello, my darling boy lover,' she greeted me. 'I'm so glad to see that you're awake, because I want to get your permission for something.' "'Hi, Miss Sue. You're sure getting me hot again doing that. What do you want my permission for?' "She turned her eyes to my dick then, and her expression changed. She wasn't smiling sweet and shy anymore. Instead there was a weird sort of wild-animal look on her face, wide-eyed and drooling, like a starved cat with a mouse in its claws.
"'I want to drink your boy come,' she said, gathering up my balls in one hand, stroking my dick with the other. 'Not just a little of it, but a whole lot—all you've got. I'll pay you well for it, darling, because I need it. I've got to have it!' "The way she said that and the way she looked at my dick had me plenty scared, I don't mind admitting. But I'd gone this far with her and figured that I might as well go a little farther. Besides, she said that she'd pay me well, and I could use the extra dough. I'd already made up my mind to leave New York for the farm when I finished with Sue, and the more money I could leave with the better.
"'Sure, Miss Sue, sure,' I said, still a little scared at the wild, starved look on her face. 'Go ahead, you can have all I've got.' "Wow, I sure shouldn't have said that. I should've jumped up and got out of there right then. Because the next instant Sue gave a growl, closed her mouth around my dick and started sucking like a maniac, pumping and slurping and pulling on my balls, all the time growling louder and louder.
"In no time at all she had my balls on fire and my dick exploding with come. But—d'ya know what?—the crazy dame didn't slow up a bit. She just gulped my come down, draining my balls completely empty, and went on with her mad sucking and growling.
"Golly, I couldn't stand it, her going on and on like that! It was terrible torture. She was turning my guts inside out, trying to get more and more and more of my come. 'Oh, please!' I yelled at her. But it didn't do a bit of good. She only gripped my balls tighter, threatening to tear them off if I didn't let her have her way.
"I tried pushing on her head desperately, and rolling my body away, and kicking at her rear. But that didn't work, either. In fact, it made matters worse, because every time I tried force, she bit down on my dick with her sharp teeth and yanked harder on my balls, causing me even greater torture.
"Then suddenly, after a few minutes that seemed like hours, the terrible, painful cramps went away and her wild sucking started feeling good again, not as good as before, but good enough to make me want it. 'Okay, Miss Sue,' I said with the sweat pouring down my face, 'once more and that's all. I know I can come only once more.' "'Yeah, yeah, yeah!' I heard her mumbling. 'Give me more—give me more!' "And about five minutes later I gave her more. It felt like I was shooting a hundred gallons into her throat, but I know it must've been just a little bit. The most I could ever come when I jacked off back on the farm was only about a teaspoon or so. Just the same, Sue sucked up every drop, going after it like her life depended on it.
"Still she didn't get enough! The crazy Chinese sex maniac still wanted more! She wouldn't let go of my dick and balls for even a split second, though I screamed and kicked and bawled my head off, begging her to stop what she was doing. 'You're killing me, killing me!' I bawled, tears pouring out of my eyes. 'I can't take anymore, do you hear? I can't take anymore!' "But she went right on, not caring if she killed me or not. She was completely out of her mind, so it was useless for me to beg. I don't think she even heard me, she was so out of her mind. All she could think of was sucking my dick, filling her belly with my come, no matter if it killed us both.
"I can't explain it, honestly I can't, but somehow, while I was squirming and bawling away in my torture, feeling all my strength disappearing, the feeling in my half-hard dick got kind of good again. It got better and better for about, I don't know, I guess ten or fifteen minutes, then I shot once more—a tiny bit. It took every last ounce of strength I had left. I felt myself passing out, but I didn't care."
There is not much reason to doubt that prostitution most probably is what it has been often facetiously called; specifically, as Kipling put it, "the most ancient profession in the world." One can easily imagine its beginnings.
A loincloth-clad young girl at the entrance to a warm cave, needing food and shelter on her for-one-reason-or-another forced trek through the frightening world of the late Pliocene or the early Pleistocene epoch; an older man in the cave—alone by the fortuitousness of the fact that his mate is many stones' throws away, perhaps bathing in a running stream—who espies the almost-naked girl, feels sexual arousal in his loins, holds up a handful of venison, and beckons her to enter. She does, reaching her hands out to take the food offering; the man pulls it out of her reach and, pointing to the bearskin by the fire, makes it clear to the girl how she can "earn" her sustenance. Feeling no "love" for the man, she nevertheless lowers herself onto the primitive bedding and allows him, a stranger in a strange world, to enter her and to satisfy his craving. A short time later, "enlightened" in a primordial way on a new method of survival, the girl stealthily leaves the cave's entrance, clutching her payment for services rendered against her naked bosom ... A purely hypothetical, true, but not an un-likely recreation of the genesis of the first call girl.
It would not be difficult to recreate a similar situation, with the genders of the "buyer" and the "seller" of sexual favors reversed, where the terminal "bioproduct" of the transaction would be (or was) the first call boy.
If, as the above quite strongly suggests, Necessity—the proverbial "mother of invention"—was the progenitress of prostitution, then Greed must have been the ageless sire, or at least the foster father, of the bastard-child that has been both notoriously uncontrollable and understandably controversial from the dawn of the caves to the midmorning of the skyscrapers. The controversy, of course, revolves around the question as to whether prostitution is "evil" or "non-evil" (the proponents of prostitution have a tendency not to belabor the problem by attributing to their cause any positive adjective—such as "good"—and neither side in the debate appears to consider the perennial dilemma from the vantage point of impartiality, that is, by determining whether prostitution is a "necessary" institution for man—and/or woman—or a "needless" one).
The fact that this controversy has not been resolved to this day can be explained by nothing other than man's ignorance of himself, by the steadfastness with which he has been adhering to that ignorance, and by his inability, or refusal, to find a happy philosophical medium between antiquarian Mosaism and anarchistic nihilism.
Disagreements on the question of prostitution and prostitutes take all forms imaginable. For example, H. R. Hays, in his The Dangerous Sex: The Myth of Feminine Evil, writes: [The anonymous author writing on prostitution in The Westminster Review, Vol. 53, 1851] is honest enough to quote a number of biographies and case histories of prostitutes, both full- and part-time, which show clearly that the majority of these unhappy women, often seamstresses, were simply not paid enough to keep them and their dependents alive and consequently had to eke out a living by satisfying the urges of the Victorian male, wearied of the purity of his home.
Dr. Oswald C. J. Withrow, writing some sixty years later, in his Talks on Sex Education, had a somewhat different answer to the nature of a prostitute.
The majority of prostitutes are mentally deficient or feeble-minded.
This has been proven during many investigations.
If we are in earnest about eradicating the hideous business of prostitution we must take this fact into account. The truth is that such girls are not responsible, and no matter where you place them in society, they are bound to continue the practice of immorality....
... If we are really in earnest, there is only one thing that can be done ... These girls must be placed in institutions under custodial care, and that care, together with supervision and training, will most likely have to be exercised during the rest of their lives....
David Reuben, the best-selling author of Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex but Were Afraid to Ask, makes no direct judgment on the mentality or the morality of the prostitute (although his claim that "the average high-class girl" grosses $7125 per month suggests that "feeble-mindedness" is not one of the prostitutes' characteristic traits); instead, in answer to "why do they do it?" (after "showing" how the same call girl's net income is pared down by living expenses to $20,000 a year) he states, with his typical tergiversation: Virtually every prostitute is in the life because she wants to be. Obviously any woman who chooses to rent her vagina to a dozen men a day has a serious emotional problem [particularly, one might add, when her annual expenditures run to $65,500]. These are the ones who find prostitution glamorous, exciting, and strangely gratifying....
If the controversy that surrounds the female prostitute appears to be adamantly brilliant with rays of ignorance, the controversy regarding the male prostitute—or call boy—is even more vehemently stultifying. Particularly as to whether such a creature exists, in fact, and as to the nature of the beast—among those who accept his existence. Bernhard A. Bauer, for example, considering the male prostitute primarily within the homosexual context, wrote in his classic Woman and Love: It would take me too far from my present theme if I were to quote from the literature of classical Greece ... proof of the high esteem in which the love of boys was held in the country which was the centre of ancient civilization. But ... while it was regarded as improper for a youth to take money from a lover, it was quite good form to accept other gifts, such as horses and fine clothes. The barbers' shops and the flower shops had a very bad reputation in this matter of male prostitution, and the boys who would hang about such shops for hours were generally regarded as being male prostitutes. In Athens, there were even brothels where these boy prostitutes lived....
Yet again, Oswald Withrow, in his previously cited Talks on Sex Education, unequivocally, though cautiously, concluded that ... a man cannot be arrested as a prostitute because, up-to-date, there is no such thing as a man prostitute.
And David Reuben, confusing the issue further in a rather peculiar process of nonsequitur logic, dismisses the male heterosexual prostitute as a rara avis anomaly. He reasons: In spite of the adolescent fantasies of being pursued by hordes of beautiful girls willing to pay for a night of passion, male hustlers have never caught on with women. Few ladies have any trouble finding willing partners at the corner cocktail lounge—if they are so inclined. Most women recognize intuitively the basic absurdity of sex for hire and insist on at least the illusion of emotional involvement in their sexual encounters. Even the enterprising young gigolo who is hired on a long-term basis by his menopausal mistress has to go through the motions of love. If he allows his true feelings to peek through, he finds himself looking for a new matron to make up to. The middle-aged lady and her handsome young companion are about the closest thing to male heterosexual prostitution in our society.
Which gives one a strong impression that the noted Dr. Reuben assumes prostitution to be something other than what it is generally known to be. Specifically, it is the purchase (by way of currency, gifts, or any other form of payment) of a sexual outlet in human form by a person of either gender and any age from another person of either gender and any age. The fact that it is a "middle-aged lady," rather that a "beautiful girl," who is paying for the sexual services of a "handsome young companion" does not make the latter any less of a male heterosexual prostitute than if he were being paid by someone exceptionally attractive and his own age. As a matter-of-fact, one of the primary reasons behind prostitution is the client's inability, or difficulty, in finding a sex partner other than for pay. A beautiful young girl, or a handsome young man, does not need a prostitute—unless, possibly, she or he has some bizarre sexual proclivity that is difficult to satisfy by means of ordinary sexual contacts, although even in such cases, with the modern liberal attitudes toward sexual behavior, the chances are that the said young girl or young man will be able to find a satisfactory, and free, partner to cater to her or his desires.
It is not the author's contention that call boys are as common a phenomenon as call girls. (It should be noted that the terms male heterosexual and male homosexual prostitute will not be further utilized within this work for the simple reason that the terms are somewhat artificial in that these individuals, as a rule, are neither and both, i.e., they are, in feet, bisexual—if not by the force of nature, then by the force of their initial need and subsequent greed.) According to the F.B.I. Uniform Crime Reports (1971), call girls outnumber call boys in a ratio of four to one. The figures are, of course, based on arrests; even so, however, they are concrete enough to negate any contention that males do not barter their virility for cash, gifts, and/or advancement of some sort.
The primary purpose of this work is not only to attempt to delineate a composite portrait of the call boy, to see what type of an individual he is, but also to find and analyze those elements in his background, in his environment, and in his personality that motivate him to become what he is. Claiming necessity to be the sole force that incites him to sell his body for sexual use" is an oversimplification. Benjamin Karpman, in his The Sexual Offender and His Offenses, briefly touches upon the complexity of prostitution when he states: An outstanding factor [in the genesis of a prostitute] is the lack of adequate family love in early and later childhood ... Another factor is the manifest irregularity in the sexual life of the parents. Children are quick to detect marital differences even when parents take some pains to conceal them. This situation results in unconscious reactions of hostility. The prostitute displays an urge to make a mockery of parental love life; the brothel-keeper makes a mockery of family life.
And the complexity becomes even more entangled when one considers the attitudes of countries other than the United States toward prostitution. As Samuel G. Kling, in his Sexual Behavior and the Law, points out: In France prostitution is illegal but condoned. In many other parts of the world, especially in Latin America, prostitution is not only countenanced but flourishes. This is also true of the Orient. India, China ... the Malay Peninsula, and Japan, among other Oriental countries, are paradises of enjoyment for the male in search of outlets for his bottled-up libido. So, for that matter, are Australia and New Zealand.
This suggests that Benjamin Karpman's reasons for prostitution, although possibly legitimate within a society in which prostitution is considered a crime, cannot apply in societies where prostitution is sanctioned. It is difficult in the latter instance to claim that a prostitute in Japan, for instance, becomes a prostitute because she has "an urge to make a mockery of parental love life."
Perhaps one of the greatest problems that has plagued man since the formation of the first family unit is his insolently stubborn assumption that there is but one truth—his own—-and everyone needs either abide by it or be cast into the infernal regions of Tartarus, or be fined $50 dollars.
Recently, there has been a great tendency by self-proclaimed experts on human sexual behavior to feed the gullible populace via the vast outlets of the various media their "gospel truths," with the result that there are as many incongruous verities as there are literate and semiliterate promulgators of such incongruous truths. It should be stressed that most of these propagandizes of "proper sexual behavior" are the end result of Victorian puritanism and ultrareligious beliefs. And they fall into two diametrically opposing groups: on one side, the relatively coherent one that determinedly adheres to the teachings of what has to be accepted as antiquarian dogma; on the other side are members of the multifarious and not so coherent group who have one mutual bond—the bond of antiantiquarianism and antivictorianism. Neither of the two groups, it is sad to say, is much noted for objectivity.
It is the intention of this writer to take the middle road, and it is felt that the hoped-for objectivity with which the subject of male prostitution will be handled within this work will be a relatively new digression from the battlefield of moralists and antimoralists, a digression that will bring individual sexual behavior out of the sphere of mass-hypnosis attitude of "damned if you don't, damned if you do," and into its proper perspective. No moral judgment will be passed on the subjects of the five case histories included here; rather, a sincere attempt will be made to understand each situation as an entity in itself and its effects on the subject and those around him, for it is only by studying the individual parts of the societal tapestry that one can come to appreciate the workings of the whole.