Chapter 4
The Rich Have All the Fun
"Seventeen is quite young for gigoloing, but it happened accidentally. If someone had told me a couple of years ago that I'd be servicing older women, I would have told them they were out of their minds!
"I have always been nice-looking ... nothing that you could call handsome, but my face has what one of my clients calls 'that boyish-man' look, whatever the hell that is.
"Being an illegitimate child, I had it kind of rough for a long time ... first in an orphan home, then in and out of foster homes. So many of those foster homes are nothing but rackets. They get a lot of kids so they can collect enough money from the state to live comfortably, and the kids can go to hell. I ran away pretty often because of the lack of love in those joints.
"Being seventeen, they weren't about to go looking for me the last time I left, I guess. Besides, I got a ride out of town pretty fast, and was out of the state in a matter of minutes. That was eighteen months ago. Yeh, I've been in the love-for-money racket for about a year and a half, now.
"Like all teenagers I had a yen to see what the world was about. Seeing as I was unhappy at my last foster home, I figured it was about time to make the big plunge. So, I left a note on the kitchen table when everybody was out to a movie. I made some excuse for not wanting to go and stayed behind. My farewell message read: 'I'm leaving for good. Please don't bother sending the cops after me as I will only do it again. I'm old enough now, so this is good-bye.' "I removed one of the slips from a flat pillow and tossed in my few personal belongings, tied it with a piece of rope and took off for the highway. We lived right near the state line, so in no time at all I felt free as the car I was in crossed over into Illinois. A brand new Cad picked me up only minutes after I was on the road and took me away from what was home forever.
"That short ride in the Caddy left a lasting impression on me, for I had never ridden in such an expensive car before. As we whizzed down the highway, a feeling of wonderful luxuriousness crept into my bones. The feel of the real leather upholstery, the soft ride, the thick, firm seats ... all of this opened my eyes to the realization that there was a different kind of world I had never known. A world of comfort and security that some people enjoyed, and it was out there somewhere waiting for me, too. All I had to do was figure out what it was that I wanted to make money at and then be good at it. This was the philosophy I developed from the short conversation with the driver, whose name I never did get. But he sure knew business.
"'Find out what it is you do best,' he said, 'and then work like hell at it. Find out what your competition charges and set your price against his. That's the whole ball of wax in a nutshell.' He talked fast, clipping his words short with impatience. He wasn't cocky, just goddamn confident.
"I'll remember those words all my life. They've worked like magic.
"As you can well imagine, I came from nothing but poor homes and lightly educated foster parents. I suppose if I had landed in some home where the two adults really wanted a kid for the sake of having a kid, then I wouldn't have turned out like this, but ... them's the breaks, as they say.
"It took me exactly three rides to get all the way into Chicago. The last one was with a widow about fifty years old. She picked me up just outside of Freeport and yakked my ear off for the first hour. She gave me a condensed version of her life history, about which I could really have cared less.
"Then she stopped abruptly, glanced at my face —I mean my whole face—examining my ears and all from two feet away. I felt like she was an artist studying her subject before picking up the brushes.
"After several seconds of this inspection, she finally put an end to the uncomfortable silence.
"'You're a good-looking boy,' she said, again focusing her blue eyes on the road. 'You should have a fine life ahead of you.' "I looked at her quizzically, my eyes dancing over her well coiffured blue-tinted hair. She was what Oscar Wilde would have called, 'The remains of a remarkable beauty ... just the remains.' "I felt flattered at her comment, not having been the recipient of too many compliments in my life. I smiled with a strange new satisfaction, the satisfaction which comes from discovering that you are, after all, acceptable to the outside world. You don't know what that can do for a person until you experience it yourself for the first time.
"'My looks haven't done too much for me so far,' I said, wondering if she would continue her mature observations and comments.
"'You're still quite young,' she smiled. 'But you seem to be a very bright young man. That's a fine combination—intelligence and good looks. You can do a great deal with it, providing you train yourself to look for opportunities.' More advice, but she had me as interested as the man in the Cad. I suppose because I was the topic of conversation.
"I was somewhat mystified by this last remark. After several seconds of trying to understand what she meant by training and looking for opportunities, I asked, 'Exactly what do you mean? How does a person train to look for opportunities? I mean, they either come your way or they don't, right?' "Her well-bred smile drifted gracefully across her face, lightening up her aging eyes, which sparkled beautifully when she smiled. I'll bet she was a knockout twenty-five years ago.
"'Before I clarify what I mean, you should know that I have decided to drive you all the way to Chicago,' she said, winking like an affectionate aunt. 'And now that you've won over my trust, why don't we exchange names? I'm Felicia. When we get to know each other better, I will give you my last name. And what's yours?' "'Mathew,' J said, shifting my position from the numb spot on my ass.
"'All right, Mathew,' she said, straightening her neck and taking in a very deep breath. 'Opportunity knocks on our doors all the time. The ones who get the most out of life are those who recognize an incident as an opportunity to be bent in their direction for their benefit. If you train yourself to be aware of little things that may seem like nothing, you soon discover how these little things can become something which will enhance your life....
maybe for a minute, maybe for an hour, or maybe for years to come. Your presence in my car, for example, may strike you as just a ride to your destination.' "Felicia paused, calmly lit a cigarette and continued. Her speech was impeccable, and the words flowed from her mouth in rhythmic gushes like a warm brook trickling over jutting rocks and then plunging down to be caught by long strands of willowy grass. She was sophistication and mature beauty. I felt honored that she would even communicate with me on such an intimate level. I was enthralled by her intelligent words and mysterious air. Looking back, it was simply my own naivete.
"'But,' she continued, 'this ride may bring you something you never expected. This of course is left to your own mind to figure out, to think about, to be aware of any situation which might in some way give you a new experience.' "She stopped talking, inhaling deeply from her long, thin cigarette. Felicia was certainly polished. This was something I had always admired in people—polish. I swore that some day I would also be 'polished' and accepted by the best people around.
"There was something which told me she might be referring to sex. I couldn't think of anything else that Felicia might be talking about. I thought maybe it was my own imagination, that I was interpreting her all wrong, because of my age. As sex was on my mind all the time anyway, maybe I misunderstood her intentions. Surely she must be instructing me in some other area. I mean, after all, I was seventeen, and she was old enough to be my mother!
"But my suspicions were correct. She let me chew on her speech for a long while. I looked more closely at her body, trying to figure out what her bust size was, and whether or not she had a large stomach behind that loose driving coat.
"Felicia spoke again, this time in a warm, sensuous tone which half scared and half excited me.
"'You may find yourself with some new experiences, unless you have an abhorrence of women my age,' she purred. 'That, of course, depends on whether you are a grown man or a young boy.' "I rose to the challenge. She was not about to make me slither into a hole, cowering from a sexual encounter with a woman quite older than myself. Her words about opportunity flashed through my head. Who knows, I thought, she might teach me some refinements in the art of lovemaking.
"I had been fucking since I was fifteen. Not often, but frequently enough not to get out of practice.
"'I'm a man,' I said nervously. 'I think you're quite attractive and not as old as you try to make me think you are.' "She threw back her head and laughed beautifully. Everything she did was feminine. Felicia drew deeply on her cigarette, tapping the ashes repeatedly into the ashtray.
"'I can see we're going to get along just fine,' she bubbled, still laughing gleefully. Her laughter became contagious, and I soon found myself relaxing and laughing with her. Her hand reached over and pressed my knee for a moment and then returned to the wheel.
"'Oh, you're beautiful,' she said. 'You really are beautiful, Mathew.' "We joked for a while and then began discussing movies, music and things I hadn't talked about in ages, mainly because most kids I knew just weren't interested. After about a couple hours of driving, Felicia suggested that we put up for the night at a motel and continue our journey the following day.
"She registered while I waited in the car. I guess she told the man I was her son, because we shared the same room—one double bed and one single bed. I had never stayed in a motel before, and it sure was a wonderful feeling as I walked into the room and viewed the fancy drapes and carpets. There was a color TV, thick rugs—boy, was that place plush.
"Felicia asked me to carry up her suitcase and freezer chest—the kind you use for picnics. It was heavy as hell. I couldn't imagine what kind of food would weigh as much as that. After we had a snack at the restaurant downstairs, we returned to our room and Felicia opened the freezer chest.
"'Get me a hand towel from the bathroom, will you, Mathew?' she asked raising her voice slightly over the crunchy sound of ice in the chest.
"I handed her the towel as she turned around, displaying a bottle of wine. That's what made that chest so heavy! It was filled with ice and several bottles of wine!
"After one glass of wine I got a little dizzy and giggly. This seemed to amuse Felicia, and she came over to me where I sat and knelt down. I could see her cleavage as it disappeared into the loose top of her print dress. She had a good pair of tits on her, and my prick began to stir at the sight of those fleshy bulges.
"When she brought her wine glass to her lips, she leaned against my leg, resting her warm body. This gave me an even better view of her tits. I could see straight down. As Felicia set her glass on the floor, she looked upwards at me, eyes slightly glazed from the wine.
"'Do you like the view?' she cooed.
"My gut was on fire, and I could barely manage an utterance. I felt as though I was short of air.
"'Yes,' I finally managed to whisper, almost not recognizing my own voice because of the husky, breathy quality.
"Felicia reached up to the crotch of my pants and rested her warm hand on my hardening penis. I took a deep breath, still staring at her fleshy breasts. Her hand moved in circles on my prick, making it harder with each rotation. My breath became heavier and thicker. I was almost paralyzed with the hot stirrings in my gut.
"Felicia stopped her massaging of my prick and rose to her feet, walked to the front door and turned off the switch that controlled the bedroom lamps. The bathroom light spilled onto the floor and barely lit the main room.
"She sauntered over and knelt with her back to me. 'llnzip, please,' she said. I pulled her zipper down to the small of her back. She pulled the dress forward and let it fall to her waist. Her back was flawless—the skin was smooth and white.
"Felicia turned slowly. As she did, her bare tits came into view, and my prick swelled and stirred like a bull in heat. She had the body of a twenty-year-old girl, although not as firm. But her tits were full and hung very little.
"Ever so slowly, Felicia turned full around, getting to her feet as she did so. She leaned over, hanging her tits in my face. I reached up hungrily and took them both in my hands. As I cupped her soft sexy flesh, she lowered her head and kissed me on the lips, gently and tenderly.
"My prick was pushing hard against my pants, throbbing and jerking inside. It felt glorious to hold both of her full tits in my hands, to feel their weight and pressure against my fingers and sweating palms. I squeezed softly and she moaned quietly, slipping her tongue into my mouth.
"Darting flashes of quicksilver shot down to my prick. My body was aglow with lust for this woman whose age mattered not—she was sexy and desirous, wanton and willing. She made me feel desired, too, which enhanced my excitement. She pulled her tongue from my mouth and whispered, 'Let's sit on the bed. We'll be more comfortable.' "I got up and walked to the bed with her. She slipped her dress off and tossed it on the chair, then began unbuttoning my pants, all the while rubbing my prick with the other hand, making it harder and more swollen. I removed my shirt and underwear hurriedly while she sat on the edge of the bed.
"Her sure hand grabbed my big prick and squeezed it. It responded with jerkings and swellings. She squeezed back, making it jerk and swell again. I pushed Felicia gently back down on the bed and grabbed one of her tits in my mouth and sucked the swollen nipple in. She moaned loudly and joyously as my tongue and lips brushed her deep pink flesh at the top of her sexy mounds.
"'Ohhhhhh, that feels so good!' she murmured, moving her shoulders, writhing beneath my sucking mouth. 'Your mouth does things to me! Oh, baby, suck to your heart's content ... suck mommy's nipple ... oh, yes, baby, suck in mommy's good tits.' "Her hand was pumping my prick hard, jerking the hard flesh up and down with tender but strong pushes and pulls, jacking me off like a motor— never missing a beat.
"Her body was smooth and warm as my hands petted around both tits, then down to her waist and around her fleshy hips and thighs. The flesh was looser than I had been used to with girls my own age, but nonetheless, womanly and exciting. Felicia had a well-proportioned body for a woman her age.
"She wiggled and slithered as my hands rubbed over every inch of her hot flesh, evoking more and more intense passion from within myself. Younger women had not let themselves go as Felicia was doing, and it was making me hotter than hell. She gave herself to me utterly, responding to every caress and pinch, every suck and lick, each bite and nibble. I found myself moaning now, my passion rising to unknown heights. I hadn't had a piece of ass in so long I was ready to rip her to shreds.
"I cupped a hand on her pussy and squeezed, feeling the wiry hair entangled in my fingers, the moistness of her sex juices matting the wiry cluster. A finger poked downward, sliding between her wet lips ... her dripping wet pussy lips which beckoned my caresses. "As my finger slithered up and down the crack, Felicia's legs spread further and further apart, inviting more contact, begging my hand to take her complete flesh. I spread those fleshy sex lips and slipped all my fingers into the wetness, rubbing up and down those smooth, pink flaps in rhythm to her moans and groans of pleasure.
"My prick was aching, wanting to plunge into her hot, whorish body, to rip her apart with my weapon, to pump her body full of my swollen prick, filling it to the skin. Her educated hands— those wise and knowing hands—kept my hard on like a bar of steel. But I wanted to feel her every inch before taking her for my own, to know how her ass felt to be squeezed, how the other tit felt to be sucked and bitten on. She was making me want her more than any other female I'd fucked. Her constant moaning and twisting kept me moving in turn, feeling and exploring, poking and pinching, petting and kissing.
"I was literally hungry to devour her soft delicate body—wanting, like some depraved animal, to eat her up alive. I couldn't get enough tit in my mouth or enough flesh in my fingers. Her body couldn't be pressed hard enough to mine ... I wanted her to become part of my body.
"She began to talk loudly, pleading with me to fuck her. 'Oh, my baby! Fuck me now! Oh, yes, push it in ... fill me up ... stick it in now, baby! Oh, God, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!' "I rose to my knees and climbed between those juicy, white thighs, supporting myself on her tits all the while, pressing my full weight on her strong tits and pinching the nipples as she writhed and screamed her passion into the thick musk-filled air.
"Her hole had secreted so much sex fluid that my prick fairly slipped into her hole. With the sudden snap of a vise, her legs clamped around my back, locking me to her for eternity. Her pussy was not tight and binding like I had known, but loose and somewhat fleshy and rather unfirm.
"I slammed my meat into her with a violence new to me. I was absolutely lost in a sea of hot flesh and uncontrollable lust, locked in by these pleading legs and hungry pussy.
"My hands wrapped around her ass and pulled Felicia up to my hips. She was off the mattress except for her shoulders. We were wrapped together in physical bondage—snugly, securely, meant for each other to pump and do each other in by monstrous orgasms.
"I grabbed firmly at her ass cheeks, squeezing and kneading those spongy mounds of womanliness. Felicia's back arched, thrusting her hips at me, suspended in air and supported by my hard prick and her clinging legs. We swayed, and banged against each other, rocked and jerked, beating our bodies against one another like mad animals.
"My hands on her ass jerked her around like a rag doll ... twisting and pulling, turning and shoving, making my prick hit every cell of her pussy, massaging every fold and corner, sending us both careening into orgasms of exquisite colors and explosions. Bone was pounding against bone, flesh mashing into flesh, nails and fingers digging into more flesh as our senses reeled and spun like Ferris wheels gone mad in a kaleidoscope. We came crashing like a comet onto the earth, spurting our fire and glory into atoms of direction, filling all time and space that surrounded us.
"And then the world stopped. There was blackness and stillness.
"All feeling had disappeared. All the lights and colors of life were expended in the vastness of space. We were no longer gods ... the greatness shrunk and shrunk until we were again human size and lying exhausted upon a plain bed, soaked in our own sweat and oils—greased and pasty from love's secretions which no longer served a purpose and which should have disappeared with the colors and the spinning wheels of fire.
"It was me and a fifty-year-old broad.
"'You're just super,' were the last words I heard. Then we awoke the next morning to continue our journey.
"Upon arriving in Chicago, she dropped me off near the center of town. Reaching into her purse, she fingered a roll of bills and pulled out a twenty.
"'Here, baby,' she said, her eyes twinkling. 'You'll need a few nickels to hold you till you get settled. If things get rough, look me up at the F— Hotel. Call and ask for Mrs. R—'s room. I'll be in town for a couple mouths. If things get dull, give me a call, okay?' "I thanked her and closed the door. She sped away, leaving me with a lot to think about."
The first impression one gets after perusing the first portion of Mathew M—'s narrative is that it is almost identical to the preceding case, that of Troy D—. Actually, it is not surprising. It is the pattern that fits a great number of youngsters who find themselves engaged in what the case history subject herein refers to as the "love-for-money racket." Coleman's broken-home, delinquent-subculture, all-pervasive-psychopathology explanation for promiscuity and prostitution appears to hold validity in this case as well. And if that explanation is valid for all status quo cases involving call boys (or call girls), then one should expect similarities—general similarities, that is—to be a common phenomenon in the study of prostitution. This does not in any way discredit the claim made in the introduction to this work that there is no such entity as a "typical" prostitute. Typicality implies common personality or character traits, common mentality (a below-average I.Q., for instance), common physical characteristics, etc. Students of phrenology may even suggest that prostitutes have a cranial conformation that distinguishes them from nonprostitutes. The ludicrousness of the latter needs not be commented upon.
Returning to the similarity between the present and the immediately preceding case—similarities that may be termed the "Coleman points"—one can see that in spite of the circumstantial overlap of events (the leaving of the family, or foster family, the relatively accidental encounter with an actual procuress in the first case and a call-boy-seeking-for-her-own-pleasure, middle-aged woman in the second case, and the setting-up of a clientele) that eventually lead both subjects to the status of prostitutes, there are subtle, but psychologically important, differences present.
To begin with, the motivation behind the abandonment of the previous mode of life is not the same in the two cases. In the case of Troy D— the motivating factor was external. He was drawn away from his service-station job, which he was utilizing to support his mother and family, by the promise of better things, the nature of which was not clear to him at the outset. In the case of Mathew M— the motivation was self-induced. Having had no family life to speak of, having been shuffled from one foster home to another, having attempted a number of times to sever the court-imposed bonds that kept him, in fact, a prisoner of his keepers (as he clearly suggests, there was no quasi-parental love or involvement of an emotional nature between him and whomever he happened to be staying with), he finally decided to make a complete break from the juvenile authorities and set out on his own. He states he "had a yen to see what the world was about."
The subject's encounter with Felicia—the rich, unscrupulous, lonely fifty-year-old woman who apparently had a long-standing weakness for youthful sex companions—must be considered as entirely accidental. (This point is brought out as a possible contrast to a similar meeting between the subject of the preceding case history and Donna. There is strong suggestion that Donna, a professional procuress, had had made a surveillance of the station at which Troy worked and had pulled in with the specific intention of conscripting the youth for her "business.") And Felicia, in contrast to Donna, the "call-boy talent scout," was initially interested in Mathew solely for personal sexual reasons. She was, in fact, Mathew's first client. The fact that later, as the subject's narrative will show, she referred him to other middle-aged, lonely, and amorous women—her friends and acquaintances—thereby expanding his "territory" cannot be compared to Donna's actions since there was no profit motivation on Felicia's part.
It is interesting to note at this point that in all of the cases discussed so far the subjects made a statement somewhere along the way of their narrative that showed their true feelings about women. And those feelings were not those of love, admiration, or respect; rather, they were those of subdued hatred and contempt. Bertrand Russell, in his previously cited work Marriage and Morals, gives the reasons for such feelings. He writes: The intrusion of the economic motive into sex is always in a greater or less degree disastrous. Sexual relations should be a mutual delight, entered into solely from the spontaneous impulse of both parties. Where this is not the case, everything that is valuable is absent. To use another person in so intimate a manner is to be lacking in that respect for the human being as such, out of which all true morality must spring. To a sensitive person, such an act cannot be in any serious way attractive ... Morality in sexual relations, when it is free from superstition, consists essentially of respect for the other person, and unwillingness to use that person solely as a means of personal gratification, without regard to his or her desire....
If one accepts Bertrand Russell's views, then one has an answer to why lesbianism is so prevalent among female prostitutes. Yet, if that is the case, should one not expect an eventual slippage into homosexuality of the call boy? The answer is yes. And the reason is actually two-fold. First, there is the growing feeling of contempt for women; then there is often a gradually growing inability on the part of the call boy to become aroused by a female —any female. The latter end-result could very well be the reason why there is so much written on the homosexual prostitute and why he is recognized much more often by psychiatric studies than the heterosexual call boy.
Although none of the subjects studied in this work manifested any homosexual tendencies, it must be remembered that the cases have been selected to show the genesis of the heterosexual call boy, not his decline. And that decline is foreshadowed in the misogynic comments of the subjects.
"I tried getting a job in restaurants, hotels ... just about any kind of work you can mention, but no go. After three nights of sleeping in vacant lots, trying to hide my body so I couldn't be seen, I phoned the F—Hotel and asked for Mrs. R—.
"I could never catch her in. I was so frustrated and dejected, not being able to land even a dishwasher job. I had exactly a dollar and sixty-seven cents left from the twenty Felicia gave me just a few days before.
"At five o'clock that Thursday I tried her hotel again for the fourth time and reached her. She asked me what I was doing, and I told her about trying to get a job and sleeping on God's green earth.
"'Oh, for heaven's sake, Mathew,' she said, almost scolding, 'why didn't you call me sooner? Listen, darling, I have a dinner date in a half hour. Now listen carefully. I want you to call me at exactly eight-thirty tonight. Will you do that, baby?' "I said that I would, and we ended the conversation rather hurriedly as she had to change clothes for her date. When I buzzed her at eight-thirty, she didn't sound so rushed. She asked me where I was calling from, then said that she would send a cab to pick me up and not to pay the driver—as if I could!
"Luckily, I cleaned up in a filling station men's room before I called her. My face was clean shaven, but my sport shirt and slacks were pretty wrinkled. I felt awfully self-conscious when the cab pulled up and the driver asked, 'You Mathew?' "He took me to the hotel, and as we pulled up to the front entrance, I felt like a small turd in all the elegance displayed before me. There were women in furs and diamonds waiting at the curb; doormen and bellhops wearing immaculate uniforms; men in black bow ties helping ladies into limousines ... the whole scene scared the hell out of me.
"I hesitated as the cab pulled to a stop, it was just long enough to see a pretty, but aging face smile at me through the side window. I opened the door and said hi to Felicia. She didn't even blink at the sight of my rumpled clothes ... no glances at the grass stains on my slacks or the missing button on the sleeve. She acted like she was so pleased to see me, paid the cabby and said, 'Follow me, dear.' "We entered the hotel, and then I really felt like a turd. Shit! Everybody in clothes like I never saw before. And everyone having such a grand time laughing, kissing, joking. Who said the rich are miserable? That's horseshit ... pure rationalization by the stinking poor. Rich people are just as happy if not happier than poor people, you can bet on that!
"We rode up the elevator to the seventeenth floor. I thought the ride would never end. God, was I miserable. Felicia had read the expression on my face, and upon entering her room she said in a very understanding voice, 'Don't let all this throw you, darling. Anybody can get used to it. Now why don't you go in and take a shower, and when you get out we can talk.' "I went to the bathroom while she got on the phone and ordered some food from room service. After my shower, we had a couple of mild drinks and the food arrived. It was just one dinner—for me. To this day I can't tell you what the hell I ate, I was so ravished with hunger!
"I ate with such noisy gulps and slurps that I hadn't noticed Felicia changing her clothes. When I looked up, she was wearing a gorgeous sheer negligee.
"'Now that your little tummy is filled,' she said rather cutely, 'let's satisfy our other hunger.' I stood up and she threw her arms around my neck, pulling me close to her warm body.
"Felicia kissed my neck and cheeks. 'You know,' she said, 'you could use some new clothes. There's a wonderful men's shop in the hotel. I think we'll do a little shopping first thing tomorrow.' "I was stunned! But I felt great. Jesus, talk about opportunities. I wasn't about to pass up this one! It wasn't the kind one got every day.
"I realize she made me feel obligated, but I didn't care—she wasn't repulsive, anyway. And even if she was ... well, I guess I wouldn't have called her if she was.
"I removed my shirt and pants quickly. Felicia slithered into bed, still in her negligee. I couldn't stop thinking about the new clothes she was going to buy me. Enthusiastically, I hopped into bed and planted a kiss on her lips. 'Aren't you going to take this thing off?' I asked, pulling lightly at the sheer material.
"Felicia smiled softly, took my hand in hers and kissed the fingers. 'A woman likes to feel as though she's being seduced, not used. Tomorrow we're going to talk a lot about what women like. You have the makings of a wonderful lover for lonely gals like me. I wouldn't worry your pretty blond head about getting a job. I think you could make out pretty good if you devote your energies to lonely sex-starved girls like myself. You're not the first I've initiated into this profession.' "She continued to kiss and brush my fingers with her lips.
"'With a little know-how, you could be quite secure. That is, if you don't mind making love to old biddies like me,' she said, clenching my hand tightly.
"She was sucking on my fingers, one by one, and bolts of sexual desire moved rapidly down to my prick. I was thinking over her suggestion seriously, wondering how I might like being a gigolo. Felicia licked my fingers with her sexy tongue. 'You can think about it tomorrow,' she whispered. 'Right now you're going to earn your new suit.' "I lowered my six foot frame onto her soft form and began sucking her shoulder. She purred like a kitten and petted the back of my head lovingly. My prick was resting on her thigh, moving and swelling against the soft flesh.
"I licked and sucked about her neck and shoulders, moving slowly downward, anxious to get my mouth around those big hard nipples. My tongue had suddenly become her caresser, rather than my hands. I discovered how enjoyable it was just to lick her skin and listen to her moan and move from the ecstasy it brought her.
"I licked down to her armpits, circling the curve from her soft chest to the shoulder. Down, down, licking onto her flesh which became breasts, swollen flesh that rose toward me just begging to be sucked and licked. Felicia was quite passionate by now, heaving her chest against me in an effort to take in more and deeper breaths.
"I placed my mouth over the transparent cloth which covered those pink nipples and breathed my hot breath onto her swollen tit. She whimpered and thrust her chest up to my mouth, but I backed off, teasing the nipple with my hot breath. She became wild with lust, writhing and whimpering like a little girl.
"My hand moved slowly to the bottom of the garment and lifted it over her knees. She raised her hips, allowing it to be slipped past her hairy pussy to her chest and over those luscious mounds of sexy nipples.
"My tongue flicked across her nipple, wetting it, then making love to it with long, slow laps.
"'Oh, my God,' she cried, 'you're driving me crazy! Oh, suck on it ... please suck on it ... oh, yes. I'm burning up!' "I plunged my head down, sucking in that luscious nub and more. I sucked in as much tit as my mouth would hold, pulling and sucking like a hungry baby. My hand slipped into her wet pussy lips, fingering the flesh folds, pinching and rubbing, pressing and pulling.
"'Oh, God,' Felicia yelled, a terrible desperateness in her voice, 'I'm going to fuck you! I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked!' "She whipped her body from my grasp and ordered me to lie on my back. I rolled onto by back, prick pointing straight up. Felicia was wild with passion. She mounted me eagerly, hungrily, almost uncontrollably, and grabbed my hard prick in her hand like a woman gone berserk.
"'I'm going to fuck you; baby,' she cried. 'I'm going to rape you, you sexy young fucker.' She positioned herself carefully over my prick and sat down hard, engulfing my swollen meat to the hilt.
"I reached up and took her protruding nipples between my fingers. I rolled them and pinched them between my forefinger and thumb, pulling gently and twisting. She bounced up and down on my pole, jamming it into her hot lovely body. It was wild but beautiful—the sight of this sex crazed female pounding her girlish body up and down on mine, thrashing about, her head bobbing back and forth.
"'I love it, oh, God, I love it,' she cried through gritting teeth. 'You sexy bastard you ... oh you wonderful sexy thing you. I love it ... I love it. Give me all your meat. Oh, God, how I love it!' "My own teeth began to clench as I felt the whirling in my gut, the onset of an orgasm. Her pussy was so smooth, and fought so angrily against my big prick that I was regretful that I was coming so soon. I wanted it to last forever. Man, this woman could fuck like nobody's business.
"I grunted, 'I'm coming ... I'm coming ... "She jammed her body down with swifter strokes, hammering her ass on my balls and thighs. I yelled like a man being killed, so intense and fulfilling was the spasm which first brought all my muscles into flex.
"Felicia screamed over and over. Her shrill voice piercing the air like arrows in all directions. Her fine body pounded away at mine, jerking and twisting as I shot gobs of come into her cavern. She was still pumping after I had shot my last, and my prick began to shrink.
"She stopped suddenly and fell forward onto my chest, weeping tears of joy onto my already wet skin.
"When we caught our breath, she placed her hands on either side of my cheeks, gazing into my eyes with her tear filled eyes. 'I think,' she said, articulating each word, as if making fun, 'you just earned yourself a pair of shoes, also.' "She giggled like a young girl and swung herself off of my wet pubic area. I was soaked with sperm, which trickled down my thighs and onto the bed.
"I was lucky to meet Felicia as the first woman to pay me for sex. She was a real gas. Felicia told me that she has a boy every year she comes to Chicago. Not only does she get young virile sex, she explained, but she also gets a kick out of mothering the boys, such as buying them clothes and seeing that they are taken care of in other ways, like new fillings for their teeth or sometimes even a car—if she really digs them. As a parting gift, she bought me a car.
"You might say I owe my livelihood to her. Oh, I don't expect to do this much longer. In a year or two I think I'll hit one of the old gals up for a business loan and open up a dress shop in some exclusive area. Then, if things go well, I pay off the old broad and kiss her good-bye. Then I'll have the money and time to keep chicks my own age.
"But Felicia was the only broad I really enjoyed. The others ... well, the others are just so many dumb rich old biddies, that's all. It took me a while to get used to fucking sloppy, sagging cunts, and eating wrinkled pussies, and kissing wrinkled old bodies. But you can get used to anything if you have a strong motive, and I've got one —money. Lots of money.
"They don't have to buy me things anymore ... I charge by the night, day or afternoon. Sometimes I don't even have to fuck them. I've had a few old gals who were too embarrassed to let me fuck their tired, old bodies, and simply requested that I make them come with my fingers. Can you imagine paying me fifty dollars to spend the evening as an escort and top it off with a finger-fuck? That's easy money, fella.
"Fucking costs more, of course. Right now my going rate is $100 per night for a fucking. I knock off a few bucks for things like hand jobs or quickies. Then there are the weirdies. Those are the gals who go for the unusual, like masochism or sadism or voyeurism and the like. It's hard for them to find sexual gratification with a young man in the way they like, so you can really sock it to them.
"Just last week I had a woman who wanted to pay me just to watch me jack off. We had a few drinks in her room and then she turned all the lights off except a special one which was focused on me. She sat in the dark behind the light, playing with herself while she watched me playing with myself. Every so often she'd say 'balls' or 'prick' or 'ass.' That meant she wanted me to play with that part of my body.
"The evening ended when she would say 'come now!' I beat my meat like crazy, and just as I shot I heard her groaning and grunting from her own orgasm. Tricks like that cost two hundred for the whole evening.
"I tell you, the world is one fucking, sucking place. In my business you really see what people are. Sex is the common denominator for any and all types, and I prove it every day. You'd be surprised at the women who have paid me for services. The cream of society. If that sounds strange, consider this: how else are they going to get their jollies without having somebody find out? They have to do it with strangers who they never expect to see again, unless they want to come to where the person is for a repeat performance—somebody like myself who is a professional and can be trusted. Part of my business depends on referrals, so you see how discreetness pays off.
"Fuck, suck, play ... all for pay. How's that for a motto?"
Mathew M— is so totally involved in the financial side of his sex life that a favorable prognosis is extremely difficult to make. One of the primary negative features of prostitution is the contempt it breeds—often for all human beings in general—in the heart and mind of the professional sex merchant. And the subject of this case is a case in point. If he is not apprehended—or if he does not seek professional help—the chances are that he will be fairly well off financially and will be able to retire into a life of lonely comfort.