BH-7097  Diary Of A Gay Love Hustler
(Ricky)
as told to “Donald Ming 


A BARCLAY ROUSE PSYGHO-SEX STUDY © WORTH NOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA 
* 


INTRODUCTION 


This is the story of Ricky, a male prostitute for eight years. It is the 
narrative of a youth reaching out for something that will free him from the 
prison which traps him. Life is that prison. What he is seeking is vague and 
elusive. He does not have a clear idea of what he wants from life but he is 
convinced that the way he has lived in the past will never bring him 
happiness. Since his introduction to homosexuality at thirteen, he has 
walked in the shadowy world of twilight sex, shunned by society and 
tormented by his inner desires. As a young man of twenty-one, he is now 
slowly emerging from his long walk in the shadows. 


I first met Ricky while doing research on juvenile delinquency for 
another book. My initial impression of him was favorable. He appeared to 
be a normal young man with good looks and a pleasing smile. His poise and 
manner indicated that he was confident in himself and untroubled by his 
homosexuality. He also appeared alert, well-dressed, and intelligent. It was 
not until I had talked with him for several minutes that the true nature of his 
feelings began to emerge. Underneath the pleasant exterior he was a 
troubled youth, disturbed by his past and uncertain of his future. 


Ricky's life is an enigma. He is unable to explain the reasons for many of 
his actions. "It just seemed like the easy way out," he replied to many of my 
questions. The easy way out was only a temporary solution. Rather than 
solving the problem, it only created others and made the next step toward 
improvement harder to make. He once told me, "We all pretend." Much of 
his life has been spent doing just that. Ricky spoke cautiously during most 
of our first interview and continued to pretend until he found out I was 
willing to listen and not criticize. Then he poured out his life story and gave 
me permission to publish it. He also sought my advice when he realized I 
was not seeking to condemn him but trying to present a true picture of his 
life for my readers. 


My conversations with Ricky have led me to a better understanding of 
the homosexual problem. Most of us consider the issue only in general 
terms and usually fail to grasp its full significance on the individuals 
directly involved. We are apt to think of the homosexual as a species apart 


from the rest of us. It is only after one gets to know the homosexual as an 
individual that he can begin to understand the problem of homosexuality. 


The cause of homosexuality is still debated by the medical profession. 
Freud believed that all individuals were bisexual to a degree. Most modern 
psychiatrists reject the bisexual theory but there is evidence to support it to 
a degree. Certainly humans can form strong attachments for individuals of 
either sex but it is questionable whether strong friendships between males 
should be considered homosexual. As adolescents, most boys form very 
close ties with other youths. Nearly every adolescent has a buddy with 
whom he shares his secrets and spends most of his free time. A certain 
amount of sexual experimentation between these boys in considered 
normal. As the youth grows older, he is expected to choose a member of the 
opposite sex as his closest companion. Men still maintain strong friendships 
among themselves and a "night out with the boys" is considered a normal 
pastime. We might ask the question, "Is the particular adult heterosexual 
pattern in our society the result of personal preference dictated by genetic 
makeup or is it partially the result of sociological conditioning?" Certainly 
other societies have followed different patterns. Has man changed 
genetically or has society adopted new standards? 


Some studies have been done which seem to indicate that homosexuality 
is inherited. Again the nature-nurture controversy prevails here. The 
atmosphere in homes where the children of homosexual fathers are raised is 
likely to be conducive to producing that condition. Many homosexual men 
marry and studies have shown that homosexual tendencies have been 
observed in several generations of males from a family. Again we have a 
question. Are these inherited physical traits usually associated with this 
form of behavior or traits produced in these males because of inherited 
homosexuality? Another is whether these traits are the result of the mimicry 
of the parent's actions and not connected in any way with his homosexual 
behavior. Studies in this area are inconclusive and the questions remain 
unanswered. 


Most experts in this field feel that homosexuality is the result of 
psychological factors rather than genetic. Some believe that the patterns 
which produce a homosexual may be formed in the child when he is as 
young as three. Most do not care to go that far but point out they are often 


established before the boy reaches puberty. In the opinion of many 
psychiatrists, the most common type of preadolescent pattern that creates 
this behavior is a strong mother and a weak father. Certainly this would be 
the situation in Ricky's case. It was obvious from my conversation with him 
that he resented his father's desertion of the family and blamed him for most 
of his difficulties. 


Part of the problem of dealing with homosexuals is that people become 
too emotionally involved. The molesting of a child by a homosexual stirs up 
mothers all over the country against all homosexuals. Only a tiny fraction of 
the homosexual population would even consider such action. In fact, more 
children are killed each year by their mothers than by sex offenders. The 
problem of dealing with homosexuals must be considered objectively. After 
investigating the problem while working on this book, I would conclude 
that sexual acts between consenting adults should not be considered 
criminal. Laws protecting children from homosexuals should be passed for 
the protection of minors but they should not be such that they give blanket 
protection to all youths under twenty-one. The blackmailing of older 
homosexuals by such youths is common today. Each case must be 
considered separately. The forceful rape of a boy by a stranger or the 
seduction of a shy youth by a scout leader is certainly a far different 
situation from the same sexual acts committed between a teenage male 
prostitute and a man he picks up on the street. A study of Ricky's story will 
aptly illustrate this. 


The following manuscript is the result of a series of taped interviews with 
Ricky. The narrative is largely in his own words with only minor changes to 
give continuity to the story. The names have also been changed to protect 
the privacy of the people involved. In editing the material, I have tried not 
to let the accounts of Ricky's sexual activities dominate the book. However, 
homosexual prostitution was the major aspect of his life for eight years and 
a description of his activities and feelings during this period is essential to 
fully understand Ricky's behavior. 


Ricky's own words define the purpose of this book: "Maybe when they 
understand, they can also forgive." Perhaps with greater understanding will 
come better methods of dealing with homosexuality and the homosexual 
himself. These people are human too and deserve far better treatment than 


society has given them. We should accept the medical profession's 
recommendation and treat them as people who need help and not as 
criminals who must be punished for their feelings. The author hopes that 
this book will help the reader understand more about one of these 
individuals and encourage him to offer help to others in similar situations. 


- Donald King 


CHAPTER ONE 
The Beginning 


How did it all begin? It's hard to believe it was only eight years ago. I 
was coming home from hitchhiking into town to spend the money I had 
been given for my birthday. I was just thirteen. A good-looking guy about 
thirty offered me a lift back home. That wasn't anything because I was 
always bumming rides and getting lifts from strangers. Only this time the 
guy turned off the main road and started down a dirt one that looked like it 
was hardly ever used. 


The guy told me he had to pick up something at his place and would take 
me right home after when I told him I wanted to get out. We stopped at a 
run-down house and the guy told me to come in with him. I didn't like the 
idea of going in the place but the guy held the door open so I figured he 
didn't want to leave me alone in the car. As soon as we entered I could tell 
that the house hadn't been lived in for a long time. The furniture was 
covered with cloths and everything was real dusty. When he told me to go 
into the bedroom I knew something was wrong. I panicked and tried to get 
out the door but he was too fast. He grabbed my arm and pushed me into 
the bedroom. Now I was really frightened. I didn't know just what he 
intended to do to me but I was terrified. 


Take your clothes off,“ he ordered, turning toward me after locking the 
door. 


"Please, let me go," I pleaded with him. It didn't do any good. 


"Get your pants off, you little bastard, or you'll wish you did," he shouted 
at me. 


I just stood there trembling. When I didn't make any move to undress he 
suddenly grabbed me and started yanking off my things. I fought and 
kicked all the while he was stripping me but it was useless. He was so 
strong that he handled me with ease and had me bare-assed in about a 


minute. He pushed me aside, scooped up my clothes, and locked them 
outside the door. Now I was naked and helpless and crying like a baby. 


"Shut up or I'll give you something to cry about," he ordered. "You just 
do what I tell you and you won't get hurt. Now keep still or I'll blister your 
ass," he continued. 


I was hysterical. I couldn't stop crying and was shaking all over. It 
seemed like a bad dream, only I wasn't dreaming. I kept screaming and the 
guy couldn't get me to quiet down even when he shook me. He finally flung 
me to the bed and went over to the dresser. He came back carrying a thick 
black strap and sat down on the bed. In a second he had me over his lap. 


"OK, you asked for it," he said as he ran his hand over my naked bottom. 
"I'm going to tan your little ass until you do exactly as I say." With that he 
raised the strap and brought it down with a crack across my exposed rear. 
The thing felt like fire. He proceeded to give me a spanking like I had never 
gotten before. My dad had spanked me a few times with a hairbrush but it 
was nothing like this. I still remember how this guy did it. First he gave me 
five whacks on one cheek and then five on the other. Each whack felt like a 
white-hot poker had been laid across my ass. He kept repeating the 
strapping over and over, first on one cheek and then the other. He'd pick out 
one spot and give me all five right on the same place. I kept pleading with 
him and promising I'd do anything he wanted but he didn't stop until he had 
my whole bottom bright red. He laid on each stroke slow and hard and I 
never knew anything could hurt so much. I was sure my ass was cut and 
bleeding when he stopped. It wasn't but I had black and blue marks for over 
a week. 


"How about it, you little fucker," he asked me when he finished. "Are 
you ready to do what I tell you or do you want me to blister your ass some 
more?" 


I sure didn't want any more and I sobbed out my willingness to do 
anything he asked. He kept me over his knees and rubbed my bottom until I 
stopped crying. At first I was in so much pain that I didn't know what he 
was doing. Gradually I began to realize that he was moving his hand slowly 
over my rear and gently cupping the ass cheeks. After the strapping it felt 
pretty good and I was so glad that he had stopped hitting me that I was 


happy to just lie there and let him feel my butt. He kept rubbing my ass for 
a few minutes and then suddenly reached between my legs and grabbed me 
by the balls. That didn't feel so good because the guy grabbed me real hard. 
I gave a jerk but the guy pushed me down with his other hand and told me 
to lie still or he'd give me the strap again. I kept still even though it really 
hurt when he squeezed my nuts. 


The guy rolled my balls around in his fingers for a couple of minutes 
while I squirmed on his lap. Then he brought his fingers right back along 
the crack of my ass and poked me gently right on the asshole. "Let's see 
what your pretty little asshole looks like," he laughed as he grabbed both 
cheeks in his strong hands and spread me apart. 


I was scared shitless. I could feel my heart pounding like a hammer in my 
chest. "It's a pretty pink little hole," he remarked, gently tickling it with his 
finger. He didn't stick it in but just played around the opening for a few 
minutes. Then I found myself flying through the air as he stood up and 
tossed me back on the bed. He was so strong that he could throw me around 
like a toy. I hadn't stopped bouncing before he was back from getting a tube 
of something from the dresser. 


"Tum over on your belly and get your butt up in the air again, kid," he 
ordered when he returned. 


"Please," I started pleading with him again. "Don't hurt me." I thought he 
was going to strap me again. I started crying and kept pleading with him not 
to hit me anymore. 


"Maybe you need another taste of this on your ass to make you follow 
orders," he said, picking up the strap. 


One look at the strap and I turned over fast. 


I sure didn't want that again. He sat down on the bed and ran his hands 
over my red and smarting bottom. "Spread your legs," he ordered. 


I opened my legs and looked back to see what he was going to do. He ran 
his hand up my leg and over my ass. I tensed when his hand touched my 
bottom and he gave me a swat on my already tortured rear and told me to 
relax. I let the muscles of my butt go slack and he moved his fingers into 


the crack. He pulled my legs a little farther apart and opened the tube. I felt 
him spreading my ass cheeks apart again and squirt some of the stuff in the 
tube right on my asshole. The ointment felt cold and I gave another jerk and 
got another swat for it. 


It was pretty hard to relax then because now I knew what he was going to 
do. I didn't know much about queers then but I knew why he was greasing 
my ass. I'd heard about guys getting screwed up the ass and the fellow who 
told me about it said it hurt like crazy. They told about a kid who got raped 
and murdered by some queer who lived in a city not too far from our town. 
I expected this guy would jump on me any minute and shove his cock up 
my ass and screw me until I bled to death. I expected to die right there on 
the bed. I closed my eyes and waited for death or something worse. 


Then I felt his finger. He just played around the opening for about a 
minute before he started sticking it in. At first he just pushed about a half 
inch or so of his finger up my ass and then took it right back out and played 
around the opening some more. I jerked each time he inserted it but after a 
while it didn't seem so bad. It kind of tickled. After about a dozen times I 
didn't jerk and the next time he kept going with the finger until his knuckles 
were right up against my asshole. I jerked that time and tried to get off the 
bed. I almost got away but be scooped me up just as I hit the floor and 
threw me back down on the bed. I landed flat on my belly and it knocked 
the wind out of me. Before I could get it back and move again I felt that 
awful strap. This time he really tanned my ass. 


The guy finally stopped after I promised to do anything he wanted. I 
couldn't stop crying but that didn't seem to bother him now. I just sobbed 
softly and bit the pillow under my face while he went back to work on my 
ass. He just sat on the edge of the bed and worked his finger up and down in 
the tight hole. Then he started twisting it and sort of turning it around in a 
screwing motion. I thought I'd go out of my mind. After about five minutes 
he started jabbing it in and out of me just as far as it would go. He added 
another finger and that really spread me out. With two fingers twisting 
around in my asshole, I thought I could never stand it. I wanted to die but 
all I could do was scream. He finally pulled his fingers out and told me to 
quiet down or he'd give me the strap again. 


The man had me turn over and tied my hands together with a rag and 
then fastened them to the top of the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and 
pulled me over so one leg was behind him and the other rested across his 
lap. I was lying there with my eyes closed and dreading the worst. Nothing 
happened for a few minutes. I finally opened my eyes and saw him sitting 
there just smiling at me. He told me not to be afraid, that he wouldn't hurt 
me if I did what he told me. Then he looked right down at my penis. I 
looked down too and saw that my cock was just lying there on my belly. I 
had just started growing hair over my prick a few months before and I was 
embarrassed to have anyone stare at me like that. He soon did something 
even more embarrassing. He reached over and started playing with my 
pecker. The cheeks on my face felt as red and hot as the ones of my bottom 
when it started getting bigger. I jerked off three or four times a week at that 
age but I didn't want anyone to know about it and I'd never let anyone see 
me with a hard on. I was so ashamed of my reaction I wanted to crawl 
under the blanket. 


My embarrassment made the guy jerk me even faster. He soon had my 
prick sticking straight up and started making all kinds of dirty comments 
about what he was doing. He wasn't very gentle. His big hands really 
worked the skin up and down on the shaft. When I had a good hard on he 
spit on the palm of one hand and started grinding the tip of my stiff dick 
against it with the other. He did it so hard that it hurt something awful but 
the real pain came when he left go of my cock and started squeezing my 
balls. I almost passed out from the pain. He just laughed while I screamed 
my head off and kept right on pinching and squeezing my stones. Then he 
Started sticking his finger up inside me like a doctor does when he examines 
you for hernia. He followed that up by shoving my nuts up inside my belly 
and then pulled on my cock until they popped out again. I lost track of how 
many times he shoved my balls up into me and then pushed until my head 
was swimming with the pain. I think I may have passed out for a while 
because the next thing I remember was when he started playing with my 
limp cock again. He soon had me stiff and, even though he jerked me pretty 
rough, I shot my boy-cream all over his hand while he continued shaking 
my pecker. 


It seemed to make him happy when I came even though I made a mess all 
over him. I was hoping that the guy would let me go now but he didn't 


make any move to untie me. Instead he got a washcloth and a pan of warm 
soapy water and cleaned me off. He got a big kick out of doing that. The 
head of my cock was so tender right after getting jacked off that I could 
hardly stand to be touched. He didn't just touch me with that washcloth; he 
really rubbed my bare glans and the rest of my pecker. I was jumping all 
over the bed and begging him to stop but he just laughed and kept right on 
scrubbing my sore prick with that rough, soapy cloth. 


After he finished washing me he got up on the bed and lifted my legs 
over his shoulders. He started kissing the insides of my spread legs as he 
moved his head closer and closer to my belly. I began to get excited in spite 
of myself. 


"Mmmm, you're nice and smooth," he mumbled to himself. "I like my 
boys nice and hairless. And you've got such a pretty little prick," he went 
on. "And no skin to hide that pink little cherry." He was licking my glans. 


"Yeah, you're cut out to be a gentleman," he laughed, referring to the fact 
I was circumcised. "I like my boys clean." His mouth was sucking in my 
hard dick. 


My arms ached from being tied over my head and now my back hurt 
from the way he was bending me but I still found myself getting wildly 
excited. I looked down and watched his hungry mouth gobbling my peter. 
He let it slide out with a pop and my cock hit my belly with a wet smack. 
My stiff pecker was sticking straight out and I could see it shining with the 
juices from his mouth. He was on it again in a second and his tongue ran 
rapidly over the tip while his cheeks moved in and out with a powerful 
suction. I couldn't stand it very long and I was soon kicking my legs wildly 
in the air while I pumped my hot creamy come down his throat. He 
swallowed it all and licked my softening dick clean after I finished 
shooting. 


He finally let me down and told me to turn over on my belly again. I 
thought that he wanted to stick his finger up my ass again but he had other 
ideas. I heard him undressing and turned just as he dropped his pants. His 
big cock sprang up and stood red and hard against his stomach. My hands 
were still tied so I couldn't move when he shoved a pillow under my tummy 
and crawled on the bed beside me. He kneeled between my spread legs and 


opened the tube of ointment. I felt his finger spread more grease over my 
asshole and then jab into me again. He withdrew and then I felt his stiff 
prick poking against my asshole. He dropped his body over mine and 
slowly worked his big cock up my ass. I thought he was going to kill me. It 
hurt like hell. I couldn't help screaming and begging him to stop. It didn't do 
any good. The bastard just kept pumping into me until I thought he was 
going to split me in two. He knocked the wind out of me every time he 
came down and kept pumping like a wild man. I was lucky in a way. He 
shot his wad in less than a minute after he began. 


"You're a good fuck, kid," I heard him saying when the pain subsided. He 
was patting my ass as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Yeah. You're nice and 
tight,“ he continued, fingering my asshole again. "Nice and tight.“ 


I really couldn't have cared what he said. I kept sobbing away on the bed 
and didn't quit until after he threatened to strap me again if I didn't shut up. 
I finally got control of myself and the man let me get dressed and then 
drove me home. He let me out a little ways from my house and warned me 
not to tell anyone what had happened or he'd come back and kill me. I was 
so scared and embarrassed by what had happened that he didn't have to 
worry about me telling. Besides, I didn't want to give back the five bucks 
the guy slipped me when he let me out of the car. Even then I guess I had 
the makings of a hustler. Five bucks was an awful lot of money to a poor 
kid like me. It had been a hell of a way to earn it but once I had the dough I 
sure wasn't going to throw it away just because of the way I got it. 


CHAPTER TWO 
A New Look at the Boys 


Boys had never meant anything more to me than good friends before my 
experiences with the queer. I had looked at them in the nude in the showers 
at school and we had compared pricks and things but all boys did that. We 
were just looking to see how we stood in the cock department. There was 
nothing queer about it. After the episode with the queer who screwed me, I 
began to look at the boys at school differently. Now when we were 
showering after gym class I looked at their cocks and wondered what they'd 
be like erect. I wondered what a cock would taste like and what come was 
like. When the guys turned around, I tried to imagine what it would feel like 
to cornhole them. 


The things the queer did to me really hurt but they had been exciting just 
the same. After I got over the original scare, I began wanting to have 
someone suck my prick again. I even found myself wondering what it 
would feel like if one of the guys I liked put his cock up my ass. I began to 
get scared of my own thoughts. The things the queer did to me seemed to 
get less horrible and more exciting as each day passed. Finally I just had to 
try some of the things again. 


I selected my best buddy. We were both interested in sports and body 
building. My parents were too poor to buy me any equipment, but he had 
quite a few things and we used to work out together at his place a couple of 
times a week. I used to spend the night there some weekends. We shared a 
bed so I figured he was the ideal candidate for my plans. 


We usually spent an hour or so lying in bed and talking before we went to 
sleep. We talked about lots of things but we often got around to girls and 
sex. Sometimes we kidded each other about girls we thought the other liked 
and got to wrestling together. I remember getting a hard on a few times and 
I think I felt one on him once or twice but we never felt each other's prick. I 
guess we were too embarrassed to let the other know what was happening. I 
planned to change that the next time we were together and got the topic 
around to sex right off. 


"I've got a hard on," I whispered to him after a few minutes. We'd really 
been talking dirty and I had been trying to get him excited. 


He giggled in the dark. 

"Have you got a stiff dick too?" I tried to get an answer. He was silent. 
"Well, have you got a stiff pecker or haven't you." 

"Yeah." His reply was very faint. 

"Let's compare 'em," I suggested. 

"Don't be a dope." My buddy was a little shy. 


"Come on," I laughed, throwing back the covers and turning on the light. 
"Get those pajamas down." 


It was quite a struggle but I got his pants down over his ass then he 
turned over on his belly so I couldn't see. I goosed him right between the 
cheeks and he flopped over with a yelp. He had a hard on all right. His little 
pecker was sticking straight out and was as hard as a rock. His cock wasn't 
too big around but it was a good six inches long and I got excited just 
looking at it. I made a grab for it as I slipped my own pajamas down. 


"Hey! Cut it out,“ he yelled, pushing my hand away. 


I gave him a playful shove that knocked him over on the bed. We 
wrestled like we had before only this time we both had our pajamas down 
around our knees and that made quite a difference. Our cocks were both 
stiff and when I started rubbing mine on his I could tell he liked it. He still 
protested but he didn't really try to push me off. When I got my hand down 
on his hard little dick he stopped struggling entirely and let me slowly jack 
him off. He kept saying don't but he didn't mean it. I watched his cock jerk 
as I pumped him and then stared fascinated as the creamy liquid spurted 
into the air. My old buddy Billy really went wild then. "Oh, Ricky, Ricky," 
he kept saying over and over again. 


I was pretty excited myself. Billy was the first kid I had ever had the 
chance to study when he had a hard on. I had seen a couple of kids at school 
with partial erections but they always covered them up right away. Now I 
had a chance to not only look at it but to play with it too. I had my face 


right down next to his prick watching every little jerk it made while I was 
jerking him off. I got a kick out of the way he squirmed around on the bed 
when I rubbed him real hard. His little butt was squirming all over the bed 
while I pumped his pecker. I wanted to suck him off too but I didn't know if 
he'd hold still for that so I just kept jacking him until he shot. It came in real 
fast jets that must have shot a foot into the air before falling back on his 
naked belly. 


Billy was kind of shaken after it was all over and acted pretty 
embarrassed. I tried to get him to jerk me off but he told me we ought to 
quit doing things like that. 


"Come on. You're a hell of a buddy if you won't do me after what I did 
for you." I wanted it so bad I could hardly stand it. "Come on, Billy. You 
liked it didn't you?" 


It ain't right.“ Billy looked at my cock though. 
"Didn't you like it?" I knew I could talk him into doing it. 


"We shouldn't do things like that, Rick." He didn't sound quite so set 
against it as before. 


"Didn't you like it?" I yelled right in his ear. 
"Yes." 


"OK, then. Do me." He looked at it for a few seconds and then reached 
out for my cock like it was diseased or something. He started out doing a 
terrible job but he warmed up to the idea in a few minutes and was soon 
jacking me off as wildly as I had him. He thought it was pretty funny and 
giggled all the while he was skinning me. My poor prick was so stiff I 
thought it was going to burst before I finally popped. He didn't like the 
mess I made all over his hands and acted kind of funny after it was all over. 
He seemed real embarrassed and didn't want to talk about it. I was kind of 
ashamed about the whole thing myself. Neither one of us had much to say 
once it was all over. I wanted to say something to him but I just couldn't get 
started. Instead of talking we just pulled back on our pajamas and crawled 
back into bed. He turned away from me and we both fell asleep after a few 
minutes. 


I was afraid I'd lose Billy's friendship because of what I'd done. I felt 
miserable when I dropped off to sleep. It turned out that I didn't have to 
worry. I woke up the next morning to find a warm hand playing with my 
hardening prick. It wasn't mine. I opened my eyes to see Billy grinning at 
me while his hand was toying with my thing. 


"Want to jerk off again?" Bill asked, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. 


"Maybe, but I know something else that's more fun," I grinned back at 
him. 


"What?" Billy sure was dumb. But he had been smart enough to have his 
pajamas down to his knees. 


"This," I answered as I moved my mouth toward his prick. 
"Don't!" Billy shouted in alarm. "That's just for queers." 


That made me mad because I didn't think I was a queer and didn't like to 
be called one. We talked about it for quite a while and Billy finally let me 
suck him. I had Billy take his pajamas off and lie back on the bed 
completely naked. I looked down at him lying there all bare-assed and got a 
hard on just looking at his sexy body. I got down between his legs and 
started playing with his dick until he was stiff again. I didn't know much 
about cock sucking but I took hold of his pecker with one hand and started 
licking the tip like an ice cream cone. I didn't like the taste at first but the 
soft, smooth glans tickled my tongue and the way Billy reacted got me hot 
too. 


Billy really got a kick out of it. He may have objected at first, but once I 
started sucking his stiff dick he shoved his hard little butt straight up into 
the air and I swallowed his whole throbbing prick. I didn't suck him off too 
quickly because I was enjoying it too much and I knew I'd have to stop 
when he shot his wad. I teased him by letting his prick slip out of my mouth 
and flipped it around with my tongue. His cock seemed to get bigger and 
bigger. The thing stood straight up and glistened with saliva when I let it 
escape and moved back to look at it. 


I spent a long time eating him that first time. My own prick was getting 
so hard that I had to give it a couple of shakes to relieve the pressure. At 


one point I sat on Billy's legs and rubbed our cocks together. Old Bill liked 
that but he liked the way I sucked his prick even better and kept urging me 
to get back to that. I was kind of anxious to do that myself so I crawled 
down between his legs again, got a good grip on his bouncing ass, and 
started sucking him again. I kept squeezing his butt and worked a finger 
against his asshole while I sucked his beautiful tool. I took the whole 
throbbing prick in my mouth and sucked like crazy. I gagged a little when 
the head slipped down my throat but I kept sucking wildly until he popped 
his cork. I didn't want to swallow the stuff so I got my mouth off just as the 
warm, creamy come spurted out through the slit in his cock. 


Billy returned the favor and spit my cream out into a handkerchief. Both 
of us got a taste of the sperm but at that early age neither of us cared for it. 
Maybe it's an acquired taste. A few years later I wouldn't have wasted it like 
that. We felt differently about things then. We played around with sex a lot 
after that but we never thought of each other as being queers. We just 
thought we were kids experimenting. Sex was just something we did for 
kicks. 


Maybe we were homosexuals then. I don't know, I'm no doctor. I do 
know that if you asked us then, we'd have said we weren't. People always 
think of queers as being effeminate and we sure weren't. We were both all 
boy. Except for having sex together, everything we did together was 
perfectly normal for boys. We liked all sports and played in all the rough 
and tumble activities of kids our age. In fact, we hated any kid that acted 
like a sissy. It's kind of funny. We hated the kids that acted sissy but 
probably didn't do any of the things we were doing. That didn't make any 
difference anyway. We didn't care what kind of sex a guy liked as long as he 
didn't start acting like a girl. 


I feel sorry for boys that act a little effeminate now that I'm older. They 
can't help the way they look or act. Most of them aren't very good in sports 
and are awfully shy around people. The other kids pick on them and make 
life really miserable. I still don't like any guy that acts like a sissy but I feel 
sorry for him just the same. 


It isn't too unusual for guys to fool around with each other when they're 
adolescents. Usually it's just a phase they go through. At first I thought 
Billy and I were just experimenting and we'd outgrow it. We still talked 


about girls and looked at every picture of a naked female we could find. But 
I knew I was different. I found I was more interested in seeing naked boys 
than pictures of naked girls. Billy and I played around quite often until I 
moved about a year later. That was the end of sex with a partner for a while. 


CHAPTER THREE 


The First Customer 


I often wonder why I got started in this racket. I can't blame it all on what 
the queer did to me. That may have given me some ideas but it wasn't the 
whole reason. Part of it was because I was poor and wanted money but that 
wasn't the whole reason either. Lots of kids are poor and don't turn to 
hustling queers. I guess it was just me. Maybe it was because I was bitter at 
the world and didn't care how I got money as long as I got it. I didn't always 
feel that way. It started in my freshman year in high school. My dad walked 
out on Mom and the five of us kids. Things had been pretty rough before, 
but now they were impossible. We had to move into the city where Mom 
could find a job. Life was pretty miserable for a while. 


I was sure unhappy at the new school. Not everything was bad. I was 
good-looking and good in sports so I was accepted by both the girls and 
boys right away. Other things weren't so good. I was ashamed of the place 
we had to live in and hated to have any of my new friends visit me and see 
how I lived. I had a part-time job after school but I gave Mom just about all 
I earned to help take care of the rest of the kids. I never had anything to 
spend on myself. I had to make excuses why I couldn't join the gang for a 
soda after school or go anywhere I had to spend money. The clothes I had 
were pretty shabby and I couldn't afford to buy new ones. We bought things 
in a community thrift shop. 


I kept thinking about the five bucks the queer had given me and finally 
decided to make some bread by selling the only thing of value I had—my 
body. I knew all about men who would pay a kid to let them go down on 
him. In the neighborhood I lived in you learned things about life real early. 
Some of the guys told stories about picking up a queer and promising to let 
him suck his cock. The guy would lead the queer into a dark alley where his 
friends were waiting and they'd roll the poor bastard and take his money. 
Most of the guys wouldn't admit that they were queer themselves so they 
said they never let the guys touch them. Some of them did admit that they 
made the guy suck their cocks before they beat him up and took his money. 


They bragged about how they made the queers get down on their knees 
while they fucked their faces. 


I didn't have enough courage to try anything rough like that so I knew 
that if I picked up a guy I'd have to be willing to put out for him. I started 
cruising for the first time late one Saturday afternoon after a day in which 
everything had gone wrong. I had a good idea where to look for customers. 
The city I lived in then wasn't very large but it had one section with cheap 
movie houses and book stores plus a park that was supposed to be a gay 
hunting ground. 


I tried the park first. I put on the tightest pair of jeans I had and started 
my rounds. I didn't get a bite, not even a nibble. I gave up there after it 
began to get dark and tried the movie theater and book store area. No luck. 
Maybe I would have scored but a cop came along and chased me away. He 
didn't know what I was really after but told me not to hang around there. I 
tried the same area again about a half hour later but almost ran into the 
same cop again. I managed to duck down a side street before he saw me. I 
began to think my career as a hustler was over before it even got started. I 
gave up and went home. 


I scored the next day. It was entirely by accident. I was shooting baskets 
at a playground near my home when a man about fifty or so stopped to 
watch. He seemed interested. I kept watching him from the corner of my 
eye and tried to think of some way to meet him. I could tell he was 
interested in more than just watching me shoot baskets. He watched me and 
not the ball when I shot. I decided to do a couple of fancy shots to impress 
him and then go over and see if he'd make any comments. I figured he'd 
take it from there if he was interested in having a boy. 


Things didn't work out just that way. I tried to be a little too fancy and 
fell flat on my face when I went up for one of my shots. I didn't realize it 
then but that was the best thing that could have happened. He rushed over 
and helped me up. The old guy asked me if I was hurt and helped brush off 
the dust. The seat of my pants must have been awfully dusty from the way 
his hands kept coming back there to get rid of the dirt. He didn't have to say 
anything. That told me what he wanted. He said his apartment was right 
next to the playground and offered to let me rest there to see if I was all 
right before going home. I was so flustered that I said no. Then I realized 


what I said and thought I had really goofed it. I recovered my wits in time 
to tell him I'd like to get a drink of water there if he didn't mind. 


That was pretty dumb too, because there was a water fountain right 
beside us. He glanced at it and smiled back at me. He asked me my name, 
what grade I was in, and things like that. He seemed so nice and his 
questions were about such innocent things that I began to wonder if I had 
made a mistake about him. He brought me back to a real swank apartment 
and told me to relax on the sofa. 


"Would you prefer a Coke instead of water," he asked. 
"Yeah. Thanks," I was seeing dollar signs as I looked around. 


We talked about a number of things while I drank the Coke but he never 
mentioned sex. The more we talked, the more I became convinced that he 
was just a nice old man taking a friendly interest in a neighborhood boy. I 
decided I'd made a mistake and told him I had to go. 


"Are you sure you're OK? You still look a little dusty from that fall. Why 
don't you clean up here a little before going home. Then your mother won't 
worry." He seemed genuinely concerned. 


I wasn't too dusty, just a little sweaty. 


"You can hop in the tub while I brush off your clothes." His words cut 
through my thoughts. 


Now I was sure that he had something else in mind. At least he wanted to 
see me bare-assed. I followed him into the bathroom. He began filling the 
tub and sat down on the toilet seat and continued talking to me. I was 
confused about just what to do. I still wasn't entirely sure that he was really 
interested in sex and I didn't want to make a fool of myself. I'd feel pretty 
foolish if I offered to let him suck my dick if he didn't have anything on his 
mind but letting me take a bath. 


He didn't make any move to leave so I started undressing. I stripped 
down to my jeans and checked the temperature of the water. The tub was 
full by this time and he still didn't make any move to leave. He was waiting 
for me to take off my pants. All of a sudden I began to get scared again. I 
wanted to leave but it was too late to back out now. I took a deep breath and 


yanked down my jeans and shorts at the same time. I was so nervous that I 
got one foot caught while I was trying to get them off and almost fell flat on 
my face again. 


He must have thought I was the clumsiest kid in town. He caught me by 
the shoulder and steadied me while I got untangled. His hand trailed down 
my back and brushed over my naked bottom. I was too scared to make the 
next move so I just stepped into the tub and started scrubbing. He was 
staring right at my cock and it was starting to get stiff. I was so dumb that I 
crossed my legs to hide it. I figured I was a bust as a hustler. I was too 
embarrassed to show my cock. 


"Let me get your back," he offered, reaching for the soap. He worked it 
into a lather and his gentle hands moved softly over my bare shoulders and 
down to my hips. He couldn't feel much, I was sitting on my ass, but his 
hands moved right over the top of my cheeks. The guy didn't stop with my 
back. He was soon washing my sides and chest. I was so ticklish I started 
giggling and he began laughing too. I forgot to keep my legs together and 
my cock popped up, a bright shiny red shaft as hard as a rock. He reached 
for it but I stopped his hand. 


"It's not free, you know," I blurted out. I had finally got up enough 
courage to start the ball rolling. 


"I didn't think a real beauty like yours would be," he smiled back at me. 
"What's your price?" 


His question caught me off guard. I didn't know how much to ask. By 
now you must think I was a pretty dumb kid but I just hadn't thought about 
what I was going to charge. The queer had given me five dollars but he had 
done such awful things to me that I didn't think I could get that much for 
just letting a guy suck my cock. Well, why not ask it I thought and I could 
always come down if he thought the price was too steep. 


"Five?" I suggested. 
"Five?" His voice showed his surprise. 


I was all ready to tell him I'd take less but I found out he was surprised 
that I asked so little. 


"Say, you're a real bargain," he smiled. "How come I haven't run into you 
before? Now that we've got the price settled, we can both relax and enjoy 
ourselves. Now quit trying to hide that pretty little prick of yours. Stand up 
so I can get a good look at it." 


"Beautiful. Beautiful," he mumbled. I felt so embarrassed standing there 
all bare-assed while he stared at my hard on sticking straight out from my 
belly. His eyes traveled all over my body and then he motioned for me to 
turn around. I was just fourteen then and not too muscular. I wasn't skinny 
but I didn't have an ounce of fat on me. I guess I was what you'd call trim. 
My skin was smooth and hairless except for a little patch of black hair 
under each arm and over my cock. Lots of people had told me I was 
handsome and this guy really thought so too. 


"You're a real beauty, Rick," he commented as he continued to study my 
body. "I like my boys to be nice and smooth," he added, running his hand 
over my naked flesh. 


His moving hand came to rest on my stiff prick and then scooped up my 
balls. He cupped them in his hand for a moment, then picked up the soap 
and motioned for me to turn around again. He reached around in front and 
his soapy hands began jerking my cock. He glided his palms over the bare 
glans and sent shivers up and down my spine. He was gentle but I was so 
tender and his slippery hands tickled me so I just couldn't stand still. I lost 
my balance and almost fell. He had to catch me again. He must have 
thought I fell down more than any kid in the whole world this time. 


He helped me steady myself and started laughing. "You're a real live 
wire, aren't you kid?" he remarked, continuing to laugh at my squirming but 
not letting up any on rubbing my prick. Instead he worked up a little more 
lather on his palms and began sliding them over my tortured prick. I 
couldn't help crying out every time his soapy palm slipped back over my 
naked glans. I was prancing around in the tub like I was doing some kind of 
wild new dance. My dick was covered with so much lather I couldn't even 
see it but I sure knew it was there by the feel. A big pile of soap suds stuck 
straight out from my belly and bubbles were flying all around the room. 


He released me just when I thought I was going to cream. By that time 
I'm sure I had the cleanest dick in town, possibly the whole world. "OK, 


that's enough," he commented. "We don't want to waste it, do we? Now let's 
get your back." 


I was so excited I could hardly breathe. I was wishing that he had 
finished jerking me off but he was paying the bill so I had to do what he 
wanted. 


"You've got a cute little ass," he remarked, patting the smooth, firm 
globes. "Bend over a little, Rick." 


I was a little scared, but I leaned forward. He reached forward and parted 
the cheeks of my ass. I heard him breathing hard as he stared at my asshole. 
Then he moved a soapy finger around the opening. 


"Mister, I don't allow that," I said firmly as I straightened up. 
"Allow what?" he asked, a little puzzled. 
"Putting your thing in me there," I answered. 


The old guy patted me on the bottom and laughed. "Don't worry, Rick. 
You're safe with me. I don't care to screw a kid anyway. I'm strictly a cock 
sucker. Don't look so surprised. I'm not afraid to admit it. I just like to look 
at the shit hole, that's all. Maybe I'll tickle it a little with a finger but don't 
worry about me shoving my cock up your ass. Come on. Bend over so I can 
see it again." 


I got back into position and he started playing around with his finger 
again. He kept making little circles around the target and my asshole was 
the target. What he was doing made me nervous but I figured he could do 
what he wanted since he was paying for it as long as he didn't stick me. 
However, it was getting ridiculous. My back was beginning to ache from 
being bent over so long. I stayed that way though and let him poke around, 
or at least I did until he shoved his finger up my ass. 


"Hey, I told you I don't go for that stuff!" I shouted at him as I 
straightened up. I was afraid he might try the same thing the queer who first 
picked me up did and I wasn't going to let myself get into something like 
that again. 


"OK, OK," he replied. "Don't get mad. You've got such a cute little 
asshole I just had to feel it. Come on, rinse off and we'll go into the 
bedroom and I'll make you forget all about it." 


He rubbed me dry with a thick towel and followed me to the bedroom. I 
caught him watching the cheeks of my ass jiggle as I went ahead of him. 


"Hop on the bed and relax, Rick," he said, motioning to a huge king-sized 
affair. 


The blue satin spread on the bed felt cool as I laid back and waited for 
him to begin. 


Relax, he remarked, patting my bare tummy. He sat on the edge but 
didn't make any move to remove his clothes. "Just lie back and enjoy it. 
You must be new at this. You're so nervous." 


"I've been around," I lied. I didn't want him to know this was the first 
time I'd sold my body. Besides, after the things the queer had done to me, I 
wasn't exactly a virgin. And then there had been Billy. 


"Sure. Sure," he replied, not seeming to hear. "Just relax," he added again 
as he began playing with my prick. 


He leaned down and starting licking the glans like it was candy. His hand 
fondled my balls and then he nuzzled around them with his warm, hungry 
mouth. My cock was getting stiffer even then and felt like it was going to 
explode. I gave a gasp when he closed his lips over the tip and sank his 
mouth down on the warm rod. I started to cream immediately. My butt was 
pumping my cock up into his mouth and his cheeks were going like a 
suction pump. He swallowed every drop of the creamy liquid and then 
licked my prick clean. 


My cock never got soft. He kept licking it and it was soon as hard as 
before. He asked me to turn over but I told him again that I wouldn't let him 
cornhole me. He just laughed and told me not to worry. I rolled over but 
warned him not to try anything funny. He promised not to and started 
massaging my buttocks. He spread my cheeks apart again and I felt him 
kissing around the opening. Then he was kissing the hole itself. He bored 
his tongue right into the asshole and I thought the guy had gone crazy. 


I found out later that lots of queers do that but it sure shook me up the 
first time. It got me so excited I didn't even notice when he stopped shoving 
his tongue into me and began using his finger instead. It didn't feel too bad 
so I let his finger fuck me for a few minutes. 


I turned over when I'd had enough and he started sucking my dick again. 
He did it slower this time and I had better control since I had just come a 
few minutes ago. 


He stopped before I came. "You're nice, kid. Real big, too." He spoke as 
if he was in some kind of trance. "Real big, he repeated. 


My cock wasn't anything tremendous but I had developed early and was 
larger than most boys my age. I've seen lots of guys with bigger equipment 
than me, but I don't have to be ashamed of what I've got. This guy sure 
seemed to like it. He toyed with it for a little while and then started sucking 
again in earnest. In a few minutes I was shooting my white-hot come 
against his tonsils. 


It was getting kind of late so I told the guy I had to get home. I thought 
he'd ask me to suck him or at least jerk him off but he didn't ask me to do 
anything. He seemed disappointed that I had to leave but asked me to come 
back when I could stay longer. The guy watched me dress and handed me 
some money. The bills were folded over and I noticed that there were two 
fives. I figured he'd made a mistake and was going to shove the money in 
my pocket before he noticed. Then I got to thinking. There were a lot of 
expensive things in the apartment and maybe he was just testing me to see 
if I was honest. If I took the extra five he might think I would steal 
something and wouldn't invite me back. 


"Uh, mister," I stammered, holding out the extra bill. "I think you made a 
mistake. You gave me two fives." 


"Sure," he smiled, taking the money and pushing it back in my jeans. 
"That's a tip for being such a good boy. Keep it. You're worth it,“ he added. 
"And there'll be ten more each time we get together. So how about next 
weekend, say around one Saturday?" he asked. 


I lost no time in agreeing. Ten bucks for a couple of hours work was 
fantastic. I was right on time next weekend. We did about the same thing 


except this time the guy undressed and rubbed his cock against my leg until 
he came while he was sucking me off. He blew me twice and gave me a 
hand job besides. I kept going back to him. He sort of lost interest after a 
few weeks and wanted me only about once every month or so after that. He 
was one of those queers that likes a new kid every time. He still enjoyed 
being with me and I used to drop by his place a couple of times a week just 
to talk. He was lonely and liked to have someone just to talk to. 


I guess I felt sorry for this old man. He was a nice old guy and we got 
along real well. He'd had a lot of experience with other guys that didn't 
work out well. He told me I was different. The others made him feel dirty. 
He liked me because I didn't sneer at him and make him feel like a creep. 
He always wanted to make it with some new kid but he just couldn't work it 
out with most of the ones he tried. He didn't want to have sex with me too 
often because he enjoyed it more when he hadn't had me for a month or so. 


The money he paid me certainly came in handy. I turned nearly all of it 
over to my mother. I guess I wasn't all bad. I made up a story about carrying 
bags for people at the train station and getting good tips. She believed me 
and was so proud of how I was working to help out. Mother always trusted 
me. I've always been able to hide what I did for a living from her. It would 
just kill her if she found out the truth about me. She had to work so hard 
after my father left us. I still send her money to help out with the younger 
kids. She's a great person. 


CHAPTER FOUR 
Photographs 


I wasn't an immediate success as a hustler. I was so young most men 
didn't want to get mixed up with me because of the legal problems. I also 
looked too innocent. I was too shy to make the first move and I just didn't 
look enough like a male prostitute to encourage the men to proposition me. 
Almost every male hustler has a kind of hard look about him. Even now, I 
don't have that sort of worn look that most guys in this business get. 


The city I lived in then was too small to furnish many customers even if I 
had been more aggressive. I was also afraid of being detected. It wasn't like 
New York. In a large city you can do what you want and hide it from your 
friends. I had to be careful not to let any of the kids from school see me 
walking the street trying to make a pickup. 


In spite of everything I managed to pick up enough customers to make a 
little money. My youth and good looks appealed to the queers and some of 
them were willing to take a chance even though they didn't know if I'd yell 
for the cops when I heard their proposition. I was the masculine type, real 
butch, and that also appealed to these guys. I was also well-hung and I 
really made them drool when they saw me in a pair of tight jeans. 


Most of my customers were one-timers. Usually the guys just wanted to 
suck me off and it only took a few minutes. Some wanted to jack me off but 
most preferred giving me a blow job. We usually did it in the john at one of 
the movie theaters. 


I had three regular customers that I usually took care of on different 
afternoons on my way home from school. The old man I told you about 
before always gave me ten bucks but the other two usually gave me four or 
five. I picked up another regular just a few months before I turned fifteen. 
This man, Jeffrey, got me started as a model. Physique publications weren't 
us big then but there were a number of them around. They didn't have 
photos of guys all bare-assed with their cocks showing like they do now. 


This guy had some foreign nudists' magazines that showed guys' pricks plus 
a whole bundle of the regular physique ones. He also had some 
pornographic pictures of guys making it together. 


Jeffrey picked me up and took me to his place on Saturday. He sucked 
me off and then asked me to stay all night. An offer of twenty bucks made it 
too good to pass up so I called my mother and told her I was sleeping over 
at a friend's house. Jeffrey was the first customer that I ever slept with. 
Actually I didn't do much sleeping. He kept going down on me all night. I 
was so pooped in the morning I could barely move. The guy just couldn't 
get enough of my joint. He had me practically sucked raw. I finally 
managed to get him to fix breakfast while I took a shower. 


"You're pretty as a picture, Rick,“ he said admiringly as he pulled off the 
towel when I finished eating. "Speaking of pictures, take a look at these," he 
continued, shoving a set of photos at me. 


The top ones were just pictures of guys with hard ons but the rest showed 
men and women fucking and men sucking other men and screwing them up 
the ass. This was the first time I had ever seen pictures like that and I found 
them pretty stimulating. They didn't produce much of a physical reaction 
though. My cock was so worn out I figured it would be a week before I 
could get it stiff again. 


"What do you think of them?" he asked. 


"They're pretty good," I admitted, trying to sound as if I had seen lots of 
pictures like that. 


"I wish you were in some of these," he said as he looked at the photos 
over my shoulder. "You're a lot sexier than these guys." 


I studied the guys in the pictures and compared their bodies to mine. All 
of them were a lot more muscular. Of course, they were a lot older too. I 
had a nice build for a kid my age but I wasn't any muscle man. 


"Hey, how about getting some pictures of you,“ he shouted excitedly. "I 
know a guy who's a real ace with a camera." 


"Nothing doing," I replied. "I'm not going to pose for pictures like that." I 
pointed to a guy standing facing the camera with a hard on. 


"No. Not that kind of picture. Just the regular physique stuff. You know, 
like they have in these magazines." He shoved a couple of physique books 
at me. "I'll bet you could make a fortune posing for these magazines.“ 


"No kidding?" I asked. My ears perked up at the mention of money. 


"Sure," he replied. "These guys make a lot of dough. You've got what it 
takes to make a bundle." 


"You think so?" I asked again, getting more excited as he talked about 
money. 


"Of course," he went on. "You'll really knock these guys out. Come on. 
I'll call this guy and we'll get him to take a couple of shots of you." 


The next thing I knew we were knocking on the door of his friend Al, a 
professional photographer. The idea of being a model seemed like a great 
idea to earn money. I was proud of my body and could hardly wait to see 
how I looked in print. It was early Sunday morning and Al hadn't been up 
long by the looks of him when we got to his place. He was a kind of funny- 
looking man—short and skinny with thinning hair. He wore steel-rimmed 
glasses and had a beard. He seemed to undress me with his eyes while I 
stood in the door. After looking me over he smiled at my companion and 
invited us into the living room. 


Jeffrey and Al were apparently good friends from the way they started 
talking together. I grew impatient waiting but they finally got around to the 
reason for our visit. The photographer said I looked pretty good but he 
really couldn't tell with all my clothes on. 


"We can soon take care of that. Strip down, Rick, and let the man get a 
look at you,“ Jeffrey ordered. 


I stood up and peeled off my clothes. Al looked me over carefully and 
then had me turn around. I felt uneasy standing there bare-assed while the 
two middle-aged men looked at me. The way Al looked at me with those 
little piercing eyes made me nervous. 


"Real nice," he commented, turning to Jeffrey. "Not much muscle, but 
kind of sexy. He'll photograph well." 


"Isn't he a beauty?“ Jeffrey asked. 


"He sure is," Al nodded. "Just look at how his skin seems to glow even in 
this light. Wait until you see him under a soft light at my studio." 


I began to relax when I heard their praise. My whole body seemed to 
tingle. I was quite excited and this seemed to add a little extra color to my 
skin. I was also in the period that one of my scientific friends described to 
me as "adolescent bloom." He told me that most boys go through a period 
just after puberty when their faces and bodies have more color. Some 
people even claim that a boy's hair gets silkier during this period and their 
body hair is soft and downy. They say that the boy's skin seems to glow. 
Maybe these special features make boys of that age especially attractive to 
homosexuals. 


"How about taking some shots of him, Al?" my companion asked. 


"You bet. Just wait until I get my camera and some things from the 
studio," Al answered as he rushed for the door. "Make yourself at home 
until I get back. There's some beer in the refrigerator." 


I sat my bare butt down on the sofa to wait while Jeffrey got the beer. He 
offered me a can but I refused. I had tasted it before but it was too bitter to 
suit me. Jeffrey and I talked while waiting for Al to get back. I didn't even 
realize I was in my birthday suit until I saw Jeffrey was staring. I was too 
much involved in spending the money I was going to make as a model to 
care one way or another. Before Al got back I owned a yacht, several cars, 
clothes fit for a movie star, and a forty room mansion. 


Al returned just when I was embarking on a movie career. His return 
brought me back to reality. He had me put back on my shorts while he sat 
up the lights. I wanted to pose showing off my muscles but Al advised 
against it. He said I wasn't built for that. He wanted me in some relaxed 
poses around the apartment. Al insisted that these were better suited to my 
build. He let me pose in my shorts for a while and then talked me into 
letting him do some nude shots. 


I didn't like posing bare-assed but Al agreed to take only rear or side 
shots so my cock didn't show. Lots of the photos in the physique magazines 
were of guys completely nude but posed like that. This was before the 


frontal nude shots like we have today. They wanted some nudes showing 
my prick for their private collections but I refused. I had dreams of a movie 
producer seeing my pictures in one of the magazines and offering me a role 
in a big picture. I didn't want any pictures showing my cock lying around 
once I became a famous star. 


Al shot pictures of me all morning. We had lunch at the apartment and 
went over to his studio to develop the film. Al wanted to take some more 
shots while he was waiting for the negatives to dry. He had a lot of props 
and things for me to wear. Although he wasn't a regular physique 
photographer, I knew that he must have photographed a lot of guys from the 
stuff he had around. He found a pair of thin briefs, a posing strap, and a 
jock that fit me. 


Watching me pose nearly nude got Jeffrey excited. I was posing with a 
football in the jock when he tackled me. He had my jockstrap down around 
my ankles before I knew what was happening. My cock was half hard and 
as it popped up his mouth was coming down and swallowed it in one 
motion. I was afraid Al might try to get our picture while Jeffrey was going 
down on me but I saw him start to take off his clothes instead. He came 
over and watched after he stripped. Jeffrey acted just as if he wasn't there 
and kept right on eating me. Al started feeling my butt and slipped his 
fingers into the crack. His fingers touched my asshole but he didn't shove 
any up my bouncing behind. He watched my backside jerking back and 
forth for a minute and then came around to see what Jeffrey was up to. He 
couldn't see much. Jeffrey had my whole cock half way down his throat. 
My stiff prick was buried right up to the hairs in his mouth and my balls 
were resting on his chin. He was holding my jerking butt so tight I couldn't 
move back and sucking like he was trying to swallow me, cock first. 


I could hardly stand up. I could feel the muscles of Jeffrey's mouth and 
throat squeezing my pecker and I knew it would only be a minute before I 
shot. When I came I thought my whole insides were pouring out through 
my cock. 


Al had his turn next. He liked things a little more private and took me 
into the darkroom. It was weird lying on my back on top of the steel counter 
with a tiny red light just barely lighting up the room while he blew me. I 
don't remember much about what he did. My mind was all on how much 


bread I was going to make as a model. I heard him tell me to get with it and 
I realized I wasn't even stiff even though he was really giving my cock a 
working over. I concentrated, got a hard on, and soon gave him a mouthful 
of my warm boy-cream. 


Things didn't turn out just the way I hoped they would. My posing didn't 
earn me a fortune. Al's business consisted of photographing family affairs 
like weddings, graduations, and the like. Since most of the physique 
magazines didn't pay for the pictures they used but gave free advertising 
space, Al had to try to sell my pictures to another photographer. He was a 
very careful man and wanted me to sign a release and have my mother sign 
it too because I was a minor. I didn't want my mother finding out that I 
posed for pictures like that, so that ended my big dream. Besides, I didn't 
want my friends at school seeing me in one of the publications they might 
happen to pick up even if I could have thought of some way to get my 
mom's signature without her knowing what she was signing. I had made a 
lot of new friends at school since I started making a little money and I didn't 
want them to find out the truth about me. 


I didn't give up modeling entirely. I became a sort of private model. Both 
Al and Jeffrey knew men who wanted to photograph boys for their own 
private collections. A few of them were really serious amateur 
photographers with expensive cameras and equipment. Most just had cheap 
stuff or Polaroids. They were more interested in looking than taking 
pictures. They wanted me to strip right down bare-assed so they could take 
pictures of my cock. I wouldn't let them take any frontal nudes but that 
didn't bother most of them. As long as they could see it they were satisfied. 


It was rough working for these guys. They usually wanted me to get in 
some crazy position. They had to help me get it just right. That meant using 
their hands on my body to show me just how to pose. Funny how they 
always managed to feel my ass and brush my prick. Most of them wanted to 
suck me off anyway so I encouraged them a little and let them blow me for 
a few extra bucks. 


All of them didn't want to have sex though. It surprised me the first time 
a guy just took pictures without trying to put the make on me. I kept 
wondering when he was going to pop the question. He never even asked 
when I got a hard on. He just paid me my modeling fee at the end of the 


hour and showed me out. A few other guys just took pictures. At first I was 
afraid I didn't appeal to them but they seemed interested in shooting film of 
me so I knew that wasn't it. Maybe they didn't want to admit they were 
queer. They probably jerked off by themselves while looking at the pictures 
later. Maybe they drew the line at just looking. Why try to figure them out. 
If they got their kicks by just looking, it was all right with me. It didn't pay 
as well but it was a lot easier work. 


CHAPTER FIVE 
Kept Boy at Fifteen 


Hustling is no easy job for a fourteen or fifteen-year-old kid. I didn't do it 
because I liked it. Lots of people think men and women become prostitutes 
because they're too lazy to get a job. That isn't true. Usually they can't find a 
decent job and turn to prostitution because they're desperate. They also 
think the prostitute's life must be great because of all the sex he engages in. 
That isn't true either. There is some sexual excitement for a few minutes 
during the act but afterwards there's a terrible feeling of emptiness. Once 
you're alone you get nervous and start worrying. I've often been so 
discouraged that I wanted to commit suicide. The only thing that stopped 
me was guts. I didn't have enough to kill myself. I couldn't even stop 
hustling. Once you get started there just isn't any way out. 


Most of us can't make the money we want any other way. I tried as a kid 
but nothing worked out. I managed to get a few part-time jobs before I 
started hustling the queers. These were things like raking leaves in summer 
or shovelling walks in winter. The older kids got all the good jobs. I had to 
settle for the ones they didn't want because they were too hard or didn't pay 
enough. The money I made from modeling and peddling my ass helped to 
make a better life for my mother and the other kids. I didn't do it all just for 
myself. I knew what I was doing was wrong but once I got started one thing 
led to another and I just had to have the extra money. 


Al and Jeffrey got me jobs modeling all one summer and I made enough 
so I wouldn't have to do any selling of my body for a while. I would be a 
sophomore and entering a new building in the fall. I had some new clothes 
and would be able to mix with some of the nice kids without being ashamed 
of what I had to wear. Of course I would still be living in a run-down 
apartment house but things looked brighter than they had in a long time. 
Mom thought I made the money working at odd jobs and everything was 
going well at home. 


Just before school started I received one of the strangest offers in my life. 
Al arranged for me to meet a man at his hotel room. I expected another 
posing session with maybe some sex thrown in. Everything started out 
normal enough. When I got to this guy's room he asked me to undress right 
away. I didn't see any camera around so I figured he wanted me bare-assed 
so he could do a blow job or something on me. I stripped down and waited 
for the guy to give me directions. He just looked me over and then told me 
to get dressed. 


He handed me a couple of ten dollar bills and told me he was buying my 
time for a few hours. The guy said that if I was interested he'd take me to a 
man who'd make me an interesting offer that would bring me all the money 
I could spend. All I had to do to earn the twenty bucks was to go along with 
him and find out what the deal was. He said I could accept or reject it after I 
heard the offer and still keep the twenty. 


I was a little scared about what I might be getting mixed up in but I was 
more interested in the money. I figured I didn't have much to lose. Al had 
told me the guy was all right but I still remembered the time the queer 
picked me up and did some pretty nasty things to me. Then I looked down 
at the bills and decided I had more to gain than lose by going with him. 


He drove me out of the city but wouldn't tell me any more about the 
offer. The trip took about an hour and he even had me wear a blindfold the 
last ten or fifteen minutes so I wouldn't know where we were going. He told 
me the man we were going to see didn't want me to know where he lived 
just in case I turned down his offer. He was afraid I might try blackmail or 
something, I guess. 


The man finally stopped the car and led me into a building before 
removing my blindfold. I had never seen a place quite like the one I was in 
except maybe in a movie. The house looked like a palace. We were in a 
huge hall that looked bigger than the whole house I used to live in before 
moving to the city. The man had me follow him into another room and told 
me a little more about the offer. 


"The man who lives here is looking for a boy to act as his companion," 
he explained. "He wanted you brought here to see if you meet his 
requirements. He'll be in soon to see you. If he finds you acceptable, he'll 


explain the details of the offer. All I can tell you is that it will be profitable. 
Very profitable," he added. "How about it? Are you ready to meet him?" 


"Sure," I replied, still a little puzzled. Whatever the guy had in mind 
didn't interest me as much right then as how much he was willing to pay. I 
knew from the looks of this place that he must have been worth a fortune. 


"Fine," the man said, interrupting my thoughts. "Undress so you won't 
keep him waiting. He'll be in to see you in a few minutes." 


I stripped off my clothes as quickly as possible. The man waited until I 
was completely bare-assed, then picked up my clothing and walked out the 
door. I felt awfully foolish standing there in my birthday suit waiting for a 
stranger to come in with some business proposition. I didn't know whether 
to sit down or remain standing. When he didn't come in right away, 
curiosity got the best of me and I started looking around the room. I was 
holding a carved ivory figure in my hand when I heard a door close behind 
me. I turned around quickly to see what kind of a person this rich guy 
would turn out to be. 


"Hi, Rick," he said, flashing me a big smile as he approached. I had 
expected an eccentric old man in his eighties. Well, maybe not that old but I 
figured anyone rich enough to afford a place like this had to be getting on in 
years. The man that greeted me didn't look any more than thirty. He was 
neatly dressed and well-built and I thought for a minute that he might be 
another employee checking to see if I was ready. 


"I see you're admiring that carving," he said, walking toward me. "I 
picked it up in India when I was there last fall." He stopped a few feet in 
front of me and ran his eyes over my body. "You're a nice-looking boy, 
Rick," he said, flashing his smile again. "I think you look even better in the 
flesh than you do in your pictures." 


I blushed at his approval. I felt rather silly standing there in the nude 
while he appraised me. It always seemed more embarrassing when I was 
bare-assed and the guy looking at me was fully dressed. Our eyes met and I 
quickly looked away. When I looked back at him again in a few seconds he 
was still staring at me and I quickly shifted my gaze again. 


He smiled at this and motioned me toward the window. "Come on over 
where I can get a good look at you," he told me, going to the window and 
opening the drapes. 


I stepped into the sunlight and he proceeded to give me a top to toe 
examination that covered every square inch of my body. I had never had a 
doctor examine me so thoroughly. This guy didn't miss a thing. He began 
with my hair and moved down. He ran his hands over my face and had me 
open my mouth while he examined my teeth. I felt like an animal that was 
up for sale. His hands felt my shoulders, chest, and back. He rested his 
hands on my buttocks for only a few seconds. This surprised me since most 
guys I had met as a hustler usually like to really feel up a guy's ass. He 
wasn't any different, it was just that he was saving that for later. After 
feeling the upper part of each leg rather quickly, he gave me a playful swat 
on the rump and asked me to turn around. His hands proceeded down the 
front the same way until they reached my lower belly. He skipped over my 
prick and briefly felt each leg again. 


"You're looking fine, Rick," he remarked, patting my flat tummy. "Stretch 
out on top of the desk so I can finish checking you." 


I crawled onto the large walnut desk and laid down on my back. The man 
gently lifted my limp penis and ran his thumb over the bare glans. I 
shivered under his touch but did my best to lie still. He took my limp dick 
between his palms and started rolling it between them. It didn't stay limp for 
long. He kept fondling my prick until I was completely stiff. My butt was 
squirming all over the smooth walnut desk. I was trying my best to keep 
still so the guy could do what he wanted but lying still when he was doing 
that to me just wasn't possible. He was smiling at my wiggling though so I 
guess he approved of my reaction. 


He released my throbbing cock and left it bobbing in the air. His hand 
moved down to my balls. He was gentle as he rolled them between his 
thumb and fingers but I jumped once when he squeezed me just right. That 
brought another smile to his face so I figured I gained a few points there 
even if I didn't keep still. He held my stiff cock up with one hand while he 
played with my balls with the other. After a few minutes his hands moved 
downward. Each leg was carefully examined and even my toes came under 
his scrutiny. 


"OK, you're done on this side," he said, patting me on the stomach again. 
"Flip over and we'll get a look at the rest of you." 


I turned on my belly and tried to get as comfortable as I could on the hard 
desk top. Once again I felt his hands moving over the muscles on my back. 
They went lower and lower and finally came to rest on my rear. His strong 
fingers kneaded the firm cheeks of my bottom. I felt him cupping the firm 
cheeks and jiggling the plump globes. He spread me apart and his finger 
gently probed the opening. I expected to feel his probing digit jab into my 
asshole any second now. Instead he released my cheeks and patted my 
bottom again. 


"A nice pink little hole," he noted, speaking more to himself than to me. 
"Get up on your elbows and knees so your bottom is over the edge of the 
desk, Rick," he directed. "OK, now bend forward a little so your butt is up 
in the air a little more. Fine. Fine," he said as I took the position he 
indicated. He stood directly behind me and I could almost feel his gaze 
right between my spread legs. I was kneeling in a position that left my 
asshole as well as my cock and balls on display. It was kind of embarrassing 
even though he had just seen everything before. He rested his hands on my 
buttocks but there was no need to spread my ass apart. The position had 
taken care of that. His finger touched my asshole and played around it for a 
minute. Then he opened a drawer of the desk and removed a tube of 
lubricant. 


"I always keep the K-Y handy," he laughed, holding up the tube. The 
comment left me a little worried. I had never voluntarily let anyone 
cornhole me. The queer that initiated me into the twilight world had 
screwed me up the ass and that had been painful enough to prevent me from 
letting anyone do it for any amount of money. This time it might be 
different. They said it wasn't so bad after you got used to it if the guy did it 
easy at first. This guy was so rich that he'd probably pay well for a chance 
to screw me and the pain wouldn't hurt so much if the bread was enough. I 
didn't make any objection when he squeezed a glob of the jelly on my anus. 
It felt cold and I shivered more out of nervousness than the chill of the 
lubricant. I heard him laugh at my reaction and then I felt his firm finger on 
my asshole again. He rested it there for a second and then shoved it up my 
ass all the way to the knuckles the first time. I jumped then. It hurt some but 


it surprised me more than anything. I didn't expect him to jab it in quite so 
fast but his finger was well-greased and after a few seconds I only felt the 
fullness with no pain. He kept his finger way up my ass for about a minute, 
then started to rotate it until the ball of his finger touched my prostate. He 
started a slow, gentle massage of the organ and for the first time I 
understood why some guys are crazy about getting it up the ass. The 
excitement built up fast and my prick, which had started to get soft, was 
soon rock hard again. His finger kept moving slowly over my prostate and I 
expected to shoot my boy-cream in a matter of seconds. 


He stopped just before I came. "You're nice and tight, Ricky baby," he 
remarked as he removed his finger. "Come on into the bathroom and we'll 
get cleaned up," he told me as he started toward a room adjoining the study. 


I waited uneasily while he washed his hands, a task quite necessary 
considering the nature of the last part of the examination. Then he dropped 
to one knee in front of me and checked me for hernia. You'd have thought 
the guy was a doctor. He inserted a finger up into my belly through the 
scrotum and then shoved each nut up there and had me cough. It hurt a little 
but all and all he carried it off quite professionally. When he finished he 
motioned me over to the toilet bowl. I thought at first that he was going to 
check my excretory functions. I was all set to piss into the bowl but that 
wasn't quite what he had in mind. His hand closed around my cock and 
started a slow jerking-motion. He didn't appear to be in any hurry. The guy 
liked to study the reaction of my cock as he manipulated it back and forth. 
Sometimes he stopped jerking me and pushed my stiff prick down with his 
finger and then let it pop back up. He might not have been in any hurry but 
I was pretty worked up by this time and shot a good load into the bowl after 
a few minutes of being handled. 


The guy moved me over to the wash basin, filled it with warm, soapy 
water, and began washing my penis. Until then I hadn't been able to notice 
any evidence of his sexual excitement. I felt it though when he stood behind 
me as he washed my prick in the basin. His cock was very hard and pressed 
firmly against my naked buttocks through his clothing. He really seemed to 
get a kick out of the way I squirmed back against him when he massaged 
my knob with the warm, slippery liquid. 


"You come back to life quickly, don't you Rick?" he commented as I 
began to get another hard on. 


"Yeah," I answered, squirming back against his hard dick. "I guess I 
bounce back fast." 


"You sure do," he added and continued massaging my cock with his 
warm, soapy hands. What he was doing left me with chills running up and 
down my spine. I wasn't sure if he wanted me to keep wiggling back against 
him but I couldn't help it. My prick is always so tender right after I come 
and he wasn't rubbing it very gently now. Suddenly he released my hard 
prick. My cock stood straight out from its nest of dark hair and glistened 
with the soapy water. I watched it throbbing and dripping little drops of 
water back into the basin. 


"Always leave them crying for more,“ he said with a laugh, giving me a 
pat on the butt. "Wait here for a few minutes. I'll send one of my men in 
with your clothes. Here," he added as he threw me a towel. "Get dried off 
and I'll see you later." 


I stood there with my hard on dripping soapy water all over the floor and 
wondered what had happened. At first I was afraid that I had done 
something wrong or that the guy hadn't liked my body. Still, I didn't think 
that could be it either because he had complimented me on my physical 
attributes and seemed in a good mood when he left. Oh, well. I knew I'd 
soon find out. My cock was killing me. I wanted to finish jerking off but 
thought better of it. That wouldn't be any way to score points in case he 
came back in. I stood there a minute more, then picked up the towel and got 
dried off. 


I'd just finished when the first man entered with my clothes. I tried to find 
out from him what his employer thought about me but he just told me to go 
back to the study when I finished dressing. 


When I came out of the bathroom the owner of the house was sitting 
behind the desk waiting for me. He motioned me toward a chair and began 
to talk. "Ricky, I'm going to offer you a job. As you've probably guessed, 
I'm a homosexual. I don't like having to go out and pick up a boy whenever 
I get the urge for a little action. It's hard to find a boy that's acceptable all 
the time. Also, a person in my position has to be careful. Some boys will 


bleed you dry by threatening to expose you. I've had you checked out 
carefully and I think you'll work out fine. You won't try blackmail and you 
won't embarrass me if some of my business associates drop in. You're a 
normal-looking kid, not a tough punk or a sissy. I'm going to offer you a 
chance to live here. You'll have your own room, attend a good private 
school, be supplied with a complete wardrobe, and be paid a salary that's 
considerably more than you make now as a part-time hustler," he explained. 


I listened to his offer carefully. I hadn't expected anything permanent like 
this. I had heard about kept boys but I never thought I might become one. 
He continued explaining his offer. "There's only one thing that will be 
required of you, Rick. Well, two things really. First, your absolute silence 
about our relationship. Second, you have to be around and ready for sex, 
whenever and however I want it." 


He continued to explain the details of his offer but I didn't hear too much 
of it. I was too busy thinking about what I should do and imagining how 
great things would be with all the money he was offering me. He explained 
that I could tell my mother that I had been offered a job at his place helping 
to train horses. He said he had a stable of over twenty horses but I didn't 
have to do anything with them. That was just a cover for the real reason for 
my being there. He even knew that I always used to hang around a 
neighbor's stable when I was a kid living in the country. That's why he 
thought up the idea about me helping out at the stable. He knew the owner 
of the stable I used to hang around and could tell my mother that the owner 
had recommended me. He thought she would be more likely to believe that 
than some other reason. The whole idea sounded pretty phony but my 
mother knew how much I liked horses and probably wouldn't have been too 
suspicious. The owner of the stable had often told her that I was great 
around them. Besides, she trusted me completely and would have believed 
anything I told her. 


I was sort of in a daze but the next thing I knew I was agreeing to his 
offer. We shook hands and he introduced himself to me by name for the first 
time. I'll refer to him as Mr. North from now on. He told me that I wouldn't 
be blindfolded anymore when I was driven to the estate. He said that now 
that he had taken me into his confidence, I'd better not betray that trust. For 
the first time since we met he looked stern and I knew he meant it. I figured 


any guy that rich could also be dangerous if crossed and I knew I'd better 
watch my step. I assured him that I'd do everything he asked. 


The next few days were really busy. My mother hated to see me leave but 
she thought it was a wonderful opportunity for me and agreed to let me go. 
She knew she'd never be able to send me to college and felt I might be able 
to learn how to be a horse trainer after I finished high school. I packed the 
few things I had at home and moved out to Mr. North's estate. As soon as I 
got there I had to register at the new school and take some tests so I'd be 
placed in the right classes. One of Mr. North's employees took me into one 
of the better stores in the city and helped me pick out some new clothes. It 
was a real shopping spree. He let me pick out most of the things myself but 
helped me select a few things he said I'd need for different occasions. He 
even urged me to buy more things than I dared to pick out myself. The bill 
seemed like a small fortune to me. 


Once the clothes and school were out of the way, I had a lot of free time. 
I probably wouldn't have if Mr. North had been home but he was away for 
the week on business. That gave me time to look the place over and get 
adjusted to my new life. I also found out a little more about Mr. North. He 
was worth a good many millions and owned a dozen or more businesses. 
He had apartments in New York and Los Angeles where he stayed when he 
went there on business. Most of the time he stayed in the house where I was 
going to make my new home. The place had enough rooms for a hotel and 
was surrounded by acres of land. A high brick wall gave the place complete 
privacy. 


The house was run by seven or eight servants. I was treated differently 
from the rest of the help. I was to eat my meals with Mr. North and not in 
the kitchen with the rest of the servants. My station was sort of like a son of 
Mr. North. Well, maybe not a son. He was too young for that, but I'd be like 
a cousin or other relative living with him. I could give orders to the servants 
and felt really important for the first time in my life. 


My first meal there was something I'll never forget. The servants served 
me all alone in the big dining room and I felt like I was the lord of a castle. 
I walked around the grounds after and then went up to my room. Just my 
room alone was wonderful. I even had my own TV and stereo system. What 
kid in my circumstances could have asked for more? 


The private school I was enrolled in was also great. I had expected that 
all the kids there would be stuffed shirts. All of their parents had a lot of 
money but that didn't seem to matter. Oh, some of them were stuck on 
themselves but most of the guys were real nice. Mr. North had told me to 
tell anyone who asked that I was a relative living with him. They all thought 
I had money too so they didn't look down on me. I don't think my family 
not having money would have made much difference to most of them 
anyway. Like I said, they were pretty nice guys. 


I did fairly well in my classes. I wasn't any genius at school but the 
teachers made provisions for all levels of ability. I had neglected my school 
work before so I was behind most kids my age. I must have been quite 
bright though because I started catching up fast once the teachers started 
working with me. They were a swell bunch too. My speech and grammar 
weren't too good either, as you can probably guess from that last sentence. 
If you think they're bad now, you should have seen me then. 


The first week went by in a flash. Friday came around before I knew it. 
One of Mr. North's employees gave me an envelope containing ten crisp ten 
dollar bills—my first week's pay. One hundred dollars for doing nothing. I 
started my first steady job with a paid vacation. Before leaving for school I 
put twenty dollars into an envelope and sent it to my mother. I would have 
sent more but I didn't want to start her wondering why I was paid so much. I 
told her I was paid thirty dollars a week for taking care of the horses part- 
time. I always sent her some money each week to help care of the other 
kids. Maybe it was conscience money, but it made me feel a lot less guilty 
to help out like that. 


My real work started Friday when I got home from school. Mr. North had 
returned and was waiting to see me in the living room. We just sat around 
and talked until time for dinner. I felt a little uneasy at first but he was very 
friendly and seemed interested in finding out more about me. I got over my 
nervousness after a few minutes and was soon discussing sports and current 
events as if I had known him for a long time. I wasn't too up-to-date on 
most things and made a mental note to keep better informed about world 
news in the future. He didn't seem to mind my lack of knowledge and 
explained many of the situations to me. I soon realized that he was a very 
intelligent man. He'd graduated from one of the best colleges in the country. 


We returned to the living room after dinner. Mr. North mixed a drink for 
himself and offered me a soft drink. He told me I was too young for liquor. 
III give you a sip once in a while on special occasions, but don't let me 
catch you helping yourself," he said sternly. 


He had that firm look again and I guess that one of his previous boys may 
have helped himself to the juice and got into some kind of trouble. 


About eight o'clock Mr. North suggested that we go to bed. He didn't 
look tired so I knew what to expect. I was surprised that he had waited so 
long. Most guys that I had met wanted to pull my pants down right off. 


"You'll sleep with me tonight, Rick," he said when we arrived at his 
bedroom door. "Get your tooth brush and come on back. You won't need 
your pajamas," he called after me. 


I returned quickly and knocked softly on his door. Mr. North told me to 
come in and I pushed the door open slowly and walked inside. His suite 
consisted of a separate living room and adjoining bedroom plus a fully 
equipped exercise room with sauna and steam bath. The room was 
illuminated with colored lights controlled by a rheostat panel built into the 
head of the bed. The bed itself was custom made and the largest I had ever 
seen. It was covered with a red satin spread with white pillows that 
reflected the lights shining on them. The instrument panel had switches for 
controlling everything from the temperature of the room to the TV and 
stereo system that flooded the room with music. There was even a built-in 
refrigerator and a little sink with running water. There was no doubt that the 
bed was built for other things than just sleeping. 


The most interesting thing came when Mr. North flipped a switch and a 
panel in the ceiling slid back and revealed a mirror directly over the bed. I 
thought that was something but you should have seen my eyes widen when 
he touched another switch and three more panels moved back exposing 
three more mirrors in the ceiling around the bed. He pushed another button 
and the sides of the mirrors farthest from the bed began to lower. They 
stopped in a position so anyone lying on the bed could see himself and 
anyone with him, in any position. 


Mr. North was pleased that I got such a kick out of the bed. "Let's shower 
before we try it out," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder and guiding 


me toward the dressing and bathroom. 


The dressing room also amazed me. It looked more like a man's store. 
There were racks and racks of suits and sports jackets and other clothing. I 
stood there staring until he spoke. "Get undressed, Rick. Then I'll show you 
where you can hang up my things." 


I pulled off my clothes quickly and turned to take his things as he 
removed them. He looked at my body with considerable interest while 
removing his own clothes. When he was down to his shorts I could tell that 
he worked out often to keep himself in shape. He looked even younger 
without clothes. Maybe that was because his muscles were so firm and his 
body nearly hairless. 


I hung up his trousers and then made a spontaneous move of my own. I 
suddenly kneeled in front of him and pulled down his shorts. He was very 
well-built everywhere except in the cock department. I don't mean that he 
was small, he was just average. Adequate, but nothing huge. It was much 
smaller than mine. I leaned forward and placed a kiss on his naked glans. I 
had never put my mouth on a customer. I had sucked my buddy before so it 
wasn't entirely a new experience. 


Mr. North reached down and ruffled my hair. He was obviously pleased 
with my spontaneous gesture. "Come on," he said, laughing. "Let's get that 
shower. Then we'll make love. I got a feeling you're going to work out fine, 
Rick," he added as he led me into the bathroom. 


All right. You guessed it. The bathroom amazed me too. It looked like 
something out of ancient Rome. There was a huge tub and a separate 
shower area. A massage table and some chairs for relaxing were over in one 
comer. Everything gleamed and warm, scented air filled the room. 


The atmosphere had me pretty well charged up. My prick was getting 
stiff and I noticed that Mr. North was getting hard too. We stepped into the 
shower together. It was large and had four shower heads that sprayed you 
from every direction. Mr. North picked up the soap and started scrubbing 
me first. He washed everything but he spent a little longer massaging me 
with his wet, soapy hands in some spots. When he finished my pecker was 
very clean and very stiff. I took the soap and tried to excite Mr. North as 
much as he had excited me. I must have done a good job because he made 


me stop and told me he'd waste it if I wasn't careful. His cock came up to a 
pretty good size in the shower. I guess he had what you call an accordion 
prick. That's the kind that's small when its soft but grows a lot when it gets 
stiff. 


We returned to the bedroom after drying off and Mr. North had me get on 
the bed. He started kissing me all over from top to bottom, especially the 
bottom. I really enjoyed the way he did a "trip around the world." Mr. North 
started by licking my face and ears and moved down my neck to my chest. 
He tongued my nipples and armpits. Lap, lap down my belly to the navel. A 
few sucks there and a tickling tongue. He flipped me over and started on my 
shoulders. Lap, lap down my back and up one side and down the other. I 
was going wild and giggling like crazy. More laps over the small of my 
back and across my buttocks with a short stop between. He didn't even 
spread me open. He just dipped his tongue in the crack and I could feel it 
passing over my asshole a couple of times. His tongue continued down my 
legs to the soles of my feet. I was really giggling now and squirming all 
over the bed. He flipped me over again, nibbled on my toes, and licked his 
way back up my legs. He had me raise my legs and hook my elbows behind 
my knees. He licked the backs of my thighs and then did a rim job. His 
tongue made little circles all around the opening. His pointed tongue 
invaded my asshole and he continued tongue fucking the hole for several 
minutes. Lap, lap around the asshole some more and then on my balls. He 
took my nuts, one by one, into his mouth and rolled them around on his 
tongue. He went back to licking my swollen globes and finally moved his 
wet, rasping tongue up to my stiff prick. He licked slowly up to the tip, 
covering the burning shaft with his slippery saliva. At last he held my cock 
in one hand and licked the tip like a lollipop. My throbbing prick gleamed 
in the colored lights and felt like it was going to burst. His mouth closed on 
my joint and it was all over in a matter of seconds. I felt like I came for ten 
minutes. My legs were kicking wildly in the air and my hot little butt was 
humping all over the bed. Jet after jet shot out the tiny hole and washed 
against the back of his throat. Sweat was pouring from my body and I fell 
back on the bed exhausted. 


We rested a few minutes and then I decided it was time to earn my keep. 
He hadn't asked me to suck him but I felt it was my duty. Besides, I kind of 
wanted to please him. He had really shown me a good time and I found I 


was beginning to like the guy. I was queer at heart anyway and kind of liked 
sucking cock. I wasn't as good at it as he was, but I did my best and he 
seemed pleased. 


We rested again and just laid there and talked while we handled each 
other's meat. I had gotten stiff from sucking him and Mr. North was soon 
sporting a nice hard on himself. He kissed me on the mouth a few times but 
saw I didn't like it very much so he put the kisses where I did. We shifted 
into a sixty-nine position and finished up that way. We clung to each other's 
butt and pumped away. It took a little longer this time but I soon sent my 
cream against his tonsils. Mr. North was a little slower but he sure unloaded 
plenty when he finally cut loose. I had never swallowed the come with my 
buddy but I didn't know what to do with it the first time Mr. North creamed 
so I gagged a little but got it down. The second time was no problem. 


After a few minutes of resting he turned me over on my belly. I felt his 
hands caressing my ass and then spreading my cheeks. I tensed in 
anticipation but he released his grip and went back to rubbing my bottom. 
He asked me if I'd ever been corn-holed and I told him about the queer who 
picked me up when I was thirteen. 


Mr. North was sympathetic about my experience but it was obvious that 
he was anxious to bugger me himself. He explained that the act didn't have 
to be painful. "It's a matter of conditioning," he told me. "You have to get 
used to taking it up the ass gradually. After you've been screwed a couple of 
times, you'll be begging for it. It will take a few days for you to get 
accustomed to having something up your ass so you can relax. For a week 
or so I'll just use my finger to get you used to it. Then we'll move on to 
bigger and better things," he laughed. 


Mr. North reached into a drawer by the bed and took out a box of 
condoms and a tube of K-Y lubricant. He slipped one of the rubbers on his 
finger, started unscrewing the cap on the tube of ointment, and asked me to 
turn back over on my belly. He had me get up on my knees like he did when 
he examined me for the job and started applying the lubricant. He 
stimulated the opening for about a minute, spreading the clear lubricant all 
over my exposed asshole. His finger pressed against the opening. It went 
right up to his knuckles with the first push. Mr. North kept me in that 
position for several minutes while he moved his finger in the tight canal. He 


paid plenty of attention to my prostate so I'd feel as much pleasure as I 
could from the act. I must admit it did feel good when he was rubbing me 
there. But I can't say I enjoyed the experience. He had his finger shoved all 
the way up my ass and it really hurt when he pressed hard against me and 
twisted his tickling digit. It wasn't unbearable so I just stayed there and 
waited for him to quit. After about five minutes he had me lie flat on the 
bed but he didn't remove his finger. We stayed like that for another ten 
minutes or so while he continued moving his finger very slowly around in 
my asshole. What a relief when he finally withdrew. 


My training continued all next week. I woke up the next morning tangled 
in his arms and awakened him getting up to go to the bathroom. Mr. North 
followed me into the toilet and watched me piss. He took a leak himself and 
then filled the huge tub and suggested we take a bath together. It was fun 
and games in the tub for a while and then I felt his finger probing between 
my buttocks cheeks. The warm, soapy digit moved down the crack and 
quickly found the target. He plunged it up my ass and worked it around in 
the tight channel. He didn't get it in as far as the night before but the soap 
smarted and it was a lot worse. He also moved a little faster and really gave 
me a workout for several minutes. Boy, was I smarting when he quit this 
time. 


That was just the beginning. Saturday was a long day. Mr. North seized 
every opportunity to resume my training. He carried a tube of K-Y and a 
box of rubbers wherever we went and I never knew when the order might 
come to drop my pants and bend over. He did it to me in the strangest 
places. From daylight to darkness and on into the night he was always 
around with that damn finger. The first thing in the morning he followed me 
into the bathroom and waited patiently while I pissed. Then he conditioned 
me while I was washing my hands and face. I'd be bent over splashing 
water on my face and he'd be behind me grinding his finger up my ass. It 
was pretty hard to remember to wash behind my ears when he was doing 
that to my behind. 


Mr. North couldn't take very long in the morning on school days. After 
school was a different story. He made up for it then. The minute I got home 
he started the conditioning again. I had to report to the study as soon as I 
got back. He'd smile at me when I'd walk in and open the drawer for my 


training tools. I'd drop my pants and bend over the desk. He'd grease the 
rubber on his finger and give my asshole a good workout before dinner. 


The training went on for over a week. I got it standing up, lying down, 
and even sitting. He used his finger on me while I was watching IV, talking 
on the phone, in the shower, and even while I was sleeping. The first time 
he did that I thought I was dreaming. He soon had me awake enough to 
know that there really was a stiff finger up my backside. 


I was afraid he might injure my rectum but I guess he knew what he was 
doing. He was spreading me slowly and getting me used to having 
something up my butt. It wasn't too bad but I kept hoping he'd get around to 
screwing me so he'd quit sticking his finger up my ass every time I turned 
around. 


Like I said before, he did it to me in the strangest places. I was always 
afraid someone would come in and catch us. I guess it really didn't matter 
because the servants never questioned anything Mr. North did but I didn't 
like the idea of one of them catching us while Mr. North had his finger up 
my behind. Once he even had me bend over the table after we finished 
dinner and he worked me over there. Another time we were riding into 
town. His chauffeur was driving and we were alone in the back seat. I heard 
him reach for something in his pocket and a minute later he pulled out the 
K-Y and rubbers. He motioned me across his lap and lowered my pants and 
shorts. While we sped along at sixty miles an hour, he slowly and 
systematically continued my conditioning. 


Mr. North decided I was ready after about two weeks. By that time I was 
taking two fingers up the ass without any problem. I was looking forward to 
it. I kind of liked the finger fucking, especially when he rubbed my prostate. 
That night he alternated from sucking my cock to sucking my asshole until I 
was ready for anything. He finally had me kneel on the bed and got behind 
me. "Press back like you're going to take a shit, Rick," he told me as his 
stiff prick pressed against my asshole. "But make sure you don't," he added 
quickly. 


I laughed and that's when he did it. He shoved his cock clear up to his 
balls in my near-virgin asshole. It hurt. He just held me tight without 
moving and started frigging my cock. He soon had me so hot I didn't even 


notice when he started pumping his stiff tool up and down in my behind. 
All of a sudden I realized he was moving and I liked it. It hurt a little but it 
wasn't as bad as I had expected. We both shot our come about the same time 
and Mr. North fell on me and flattened me on the bed. He kept his soft dick 
up my rear for a few minutes and then rolled off and asked me how I liked 
it. 


I admitted it hadn't been so bad. I was a little sore for a couple of days 
and Mr. North told me I wouldn't mind taking it at all after a couple of 
months. He fucked me up the ass again the next night but let me rest for a 
while after that. He usually only corn-holed me once a week after the 
training period was over. I got so I could squeeze the muscles of my asshole 
and give him a real good ride. 


Life at Mr. North's was better than anything I had before. He let me go 
home to visit my mother every other weekend. He took me to plays, 
movies, sports events, and other places. He was always buying me clothes 
and other presents. I began to fall in love with the guy. He was really good 
to me. If I had a lot of homework, he didn't make any demands on my time 
for that night. I usually stopped by his room and at least let him blow me 
even if I did have a test to study for the next day. I began to try to please 
him, not because it was my job, but because I liked him. 


Mr. North also expected that I would be considerate of him. I could do 
pretty much what I wanted with my free time as long as I asked him first. 
Sometimes he made plans for us to do something together and I had to fit 
my schedule into his. Still, he let me have a private life with the kids at 
school. One time some of the boys wanted me to stay after school to watch 
a game with another school. Although I was supposed to, I didn't bother to 
call Mr. North. It was late when I got home and he seemed irritated. We ate 
dinner without saying much and then he told me he had planned to take me 
to a game he wanted to see, but it was too late now to go. He had made 
plans for us to eat early and I hadn't shown up on time. He told me to go to 
my room and wait for him. Mr. North told me he'd be in to talk to me about 
my behavior during the last few weeks. 


I knew he wasn't as mad about missing the game as about other things. 
I'd been living with him for two months and the last couple of weeks I'd 
been taking advantage of a good situation. I'd become very sassy with the 


servants and treated them like slaves instead of household workers. I'd also 
been neglecting my school work. I spent my free time goofing off and had 
taken up smoking. I tried to hide that from Mr. North but I'm sure he knew. 
I wasn't too worried though. I was still damn good in bed and I didn't think 
he'd kick me out. 


I was in for a shock though when Mr. North walked into my room 
carrying a thick leather strap. I hadn't expected that. He sat down on my bed 
and began discussing my behavior. Mr. North enumerated all the faults I 
mentioned before plus a lot more. He said he had evidently been too easy 
on me but was going to change that now. He told me to strip and lie over his 
lap. "What you need, Rick," he said firmly, "is a good spanking." 


My first reaction was that he didn't have any right to punish me and he 
could go to hell. I was going to tell him so but I realized he'd send me 
packing if I didn't let him wallop me. I also knew I deserved it. Besides, I 
didn't think it would be too bad. I stripped and crawled over his lap. He 
didn't waste any time. Crack! Down came the strap. Was I ever wrong when 
I thought it wouldn't hurt much. I guess a spanking hurts just as much when 
you're fifteen as it does when you're five. The only thing is that the person 
giving it to you thinks you can take a lot more so they give it to you a lot 
worse. Mr. North was no exception. He really whaled my bottom. Long 
before he quit I was screaming for him to stop and bawling like a baby. He 
didn't quit until he had my bare bottom a bright red and hurting like it was 
on fire. 


Mr. North left me crying on the bed to think things over before coming 
back to comfort me after a few minutes. He told me he was sorry he had to 
spank me but that he intended to keep the strap handy in case I got out of 
line again. He told me that if I planned to live there, I had to behave. My 
first reaction was to pack up and leave. Then I got to thinking about what a 
swell set up I had, and decided I really hadn't lived up to my part of the 
bargain. I said I was sorry and promised to reform. He soon kissed away all 
the pain and we both felt better after a wild sixty-nine session. 


Mr. North did indeed keep the strap handy and used it on my poor bottom 
many times. He always had good reason and didn't spare the leather when 
he did. His first task was to cure me of the cigarette habit. He could smell it 
on my breath even though I used a strong mouthwash. At first I thought I 


couldn't give it up but after getting my ass blistered three nights right in a 
row, I changed my mind. 


Thanks to Mr. North and his strap, I have a much better chance not to get 
lung cancer. Of course, I couldn't sit down easily for a couple of days, but 
that's a small price to pay. He changed some of my other habits too. I 
dreaded to bring home a bad report card or low test grade. If it was bad 
because I just didn't understand it, that was all right. But if I got a low mark 
because I goofed off, I got it with the strap. I had to tell him about any 
trouble I got into at school. Usually when I told him about something I did 
wrong, he just talked to me about it and spanked me a little with his bare 
hand on my equally bare bottom. That didn't hurt much but if he found out 
from someone else first, my bottom really smarted for it. 


In a way I suppose it did me a lot of good. It sure hurt but my behavior 
improved and so did my personality. I'd been pretty selfish before but I soon 
started thinking about other people to avoid getting the strap across my ass. 
I began treating the servants like people again. My marks at school 
improved and I found the teachers and students liked me better when I 
began to be more considerate. The strapping gradually diminished and soon 
they were just a bad memory. 


Except for the strapping whenever I got out of line, life with Mr. North 
was really great. Most people think queers, especially queers who like 
young boys, are some kind of monsters. Mr. North was really very nice. He 
lived a quiet life and never staged any orgies or anything like that. He took 
me with him on trips to New York City a couple of times and we even spent 
two weeks in Florida during the winter. Everything wasn't just sex. We had 
fun just being together. 


All good things come to an end sometime. Mr. North went to Europe for 
the summer and decided it would be best not to take me along. He didn't 
want me back the next year either. He said I was a great boy and it would be 
better if I left this kind of life now and tried to live a normal life. He said 
being a homosexual created too many problems. Before leaving for Europe 
he deposited five thousand dollars in a savings account in my name. I 
actually cried when I said good-bye to him. It wasn't because I was sorry to 
be losing a good paying job and a nice place to stay. I cried because I was in 


love with the guy. I began to wonder if I was really a total queer too or if I 
could go back to being a normal kid. 


CHAPTER SIX 
On The Street 


I returned home determined to live a normal life. Gone were the days of 
posing for nude photos and hustling on the street. I was determined to put 
all that behind me. Offers from former clients started coming in when they 
heard I was back but they soon trailed off after the word got around that I 
no longer put out. Al tried to talk me into posing for regular physique shots 
but I knew what that could lead to and I had made up my mind not to give 
in. 


Once I made the first step I knew each succeeding one would be harder 
and harder to resist and I would soon be right back where I was a year ago. 


Don't get the impression that I became a saint overnight. It was just that I 
gave up all homosexual activity. It wasn't easy. After living with Mr. North 
for a year I was accustomed to getting sucked off nearly every day. It was 
hard to quit all at once. Of course I used the method that boys have used for 
centuries but jacking myself off wasn't the same as doing it with a partner. 


My experiences with girls had been pretty limited so I tried to make up 
for lost time. I dated girls like they were going out of style my last two 
years of high school. I got the reputation of being quite a lover. Being with 
the girls didn't excite me nearly as much as being with Mr. North. That 
worried me because I had always felt I wasn't queer and could quit that kind 
of life anytime. I told myself I was just doing it for the money. Sure, I liked 
having a guy suck my cock but wouldn't anybody? After all, what's the 
difference between a male's mouth or a female's mouth. 


I found myself attracted to other boys during these two years but I didn't 
slip once. I took part in just about every sport in high school. I wasn't that 
crazy about the games. The thing that attracted me most was the chance to 
be with athletic boys in close physical contact. I used to look forward to the 
showers after an exercise session the way little kids look forward to 
Christmas. We always fooled around in the showers. I don't mean we fooled 
around sexually. We threw cold water on each other, had soap fights, and 


things like that. The sight of so many strong, handsome young males all 
running around bare-assed was pretty stimulating. I managed to keep my 
feelings in check and never let the other guys know how I felt. I was 
worried about the way I felt but I thought I could lick the problem in time. 


I gradually spent the money Mr. North gave me. I didn't buy anything 
foolish. It went for things I needed and food and clothing for the rest of the 
family. I pretended the money came from part-time jobs. Actually there was 
no time for any jobs after school because we were always practicing in the 
gym. I enjoyed the last two years of high school but I never felt at ease. I 
just couldn't relax. Everything was all right as long as I kept busy but the 
minute I had nothing to do, I started to worry. 


Most of the money was gone by the time I finished high school. My 
future didn't look too bright. There wasn't enough money for college. I 
didn't have any special abilities or training so it was impossible to find a 
good paying job. Even the Army didn't want me. I tried to enlist but I 
flunked my physical. I injured my knee a few months before I graduated. 
The doctors didn't think surgery would help much. Besides, it didn't bother 
me most of the time. I didn't limp and my leg didn't pain me until I twisted 
it just right. Then I'd be in pain and could hardly walk for a day or two. It 
might be two or three weeks before it would bother me again. 


I finally managed to find a job working as a check-out boy in a 
supermarket in town. It just didn't work out. I could never seem to do the 
right thing. The customers were always yelling at me for being too slow, 
forgetting their stamps, or packing their groceries wrong. When they 
weren't yelling at me, the manager was. After three weeks I just couldn't 
take it any more. I guess working as a hustler has spoiled me. I had been 
used to being praised for everything. Men were always telling me how good 
I looked, how big my cock was, and things like that. Now all I got was 
complaints. 


I couldn't find any other work in the city where I seemed to fit in. There 
were a couple of offers but I knew I couldn't take that kind of work. After a 
week of looking, I packed my bags and headed for New York City. I had 
over a hundred bucks left from what Mr. North gave me and thought that 
would tide me over until I got a job. I didn't plan to become a prostitute 


again. I had a vague idea that I might get a job modeling clothes or 
something like that. 


New York was a dream city for me at first. I stayed at a YMCA so I 
didn't have to spend much for a room. My meals were purchased at an 
automat so I saved money there too. I didn't look for work for the first three 
or four days. I just walked around from place to place looking at things. 
Most of the time I walked past places where Mr. North had taken me when I 
visited the city with him. I couldn't afford to eat in any of the restaurants 
this time but it was nice to walk by them and remember. I probably spent 
eight to ten hours every day just walking around. That didn't do my knee 
any good and I had to spend the next few days resting until the pain went 
away. 


My money was almost gone after a week and I had to start looking for a 
job in earnest. I didn't find anything in the ads in the paper. I called a 
modeling agency but they wanted more money than I had just to enroll me. 
The next modeling agency I visited asked me for my composite shots. 
That's a folder with a series of photographs showing you in various kinds of 
clothing so the person who wants a model will know if you photograph well 
in the articles he wants to sell. I couldn't afford to have a series of 
photographs taken so that was out. 


My break came by accident. There was a young guy staying at the Y and 
we met in the showers a couple of times. I could tell from the way he 
looked at me he was queer. He was a couple of years older than me, maybe 
nineteen or twenty, slim, and quite good-looking. His face had an almost 
girlish beauty about it and he acted kind of effeminate. Not so much that it 
was Offensive but enough to show. I figured he didn't have much money if 
he was staying at the Y but he might be good for a couple of bucks and 
anything would help out in my circumstances. 


It wasn't hard to get a conversation going with him. All I had to do was 
say, Hi,“ when I walked into the showers and he took over from there. His 
name was Bill. He told me he was staying at the Y for a few days while his 
apartment was being repainted. When I asked him what he did in New York 
he told me he was a model. My eyes lighted up. He told me he only worked 
part-time at that but didn't say what else he did. 


I hoped he might be able to get me an introduction to some people who 
might be able to use me as one of their models. I forgot all about trying to 
score with him. When I told him I wanted to model he used that as an 
excuse to look me over carefully. He'd been sneaking glances at me before 
but now he stared openly at me as I stood there bare-assed under the 
pouring water. He asked me to turn around a couple of times and said he 
thought I'd be a great model. Bill offered to help me get started and invited 
me to his room to talk about it. 


Bill told me he knew someone who wanted a boy to model a new line of 
bathing suits. He said the photographer didn't think he had the build for it 
but Bill was sure I did. He asked me to take off my towel and he looked me 
over again. Then he made a call from a pay phone in the hall and came back 
to tell me the man was willing to take a look at me and see what I looked 
like. When I told Bill I didn't know how I could ever thank him for his help, 
he was very clear in hinting just how I could express my appreciation. 


Oh, well. That was what I had started out to do. I discarded my towel and 
joined him on the bed. Bill knew what sex was all about. He didn't want me 
to do anything at first. He just had me lie back on the bed and relax. Once I 
was flat on my ass he straddled my legs and began running his hands over 
my body. He had long, silky blond hair and liked to drag it over my cock 
and balls. After a few minutes he started kissing my belly and soon my 
prick was poking its head up to where he was kissing. He kept right on 
kissing but the target was different. And how! His tongue began to lick out 
over the tip of my stiff dick and then lap up and down from my nuts to the 
little eye. He soon swallowed the old tube and sucked it gently for a few 
minutes. I suddenly felt a violent movement on the head and looked down 
to see what in hell he was doing. All I could see was his blond hair spread 
out all over my belly. I figured he was doing it with his tongue. His head 
was barely moving but he was sure giving my cock a working over with 
something. It didn't take me long to pop the cork. That tongue kept whirling 
all the time I was coming. I finally had to push him away before I went 
right out of my skin. 


We talked for a while after he blew me and then he crawled over me and 
started working on me with that wild tongue again. He was kneeling over 
my face this time and I could look right up between his spread legs into the 


hairy crack between his ass. His prick was sticking out stiff and red and 
dripping pre-come juice down in my face. I could see his brownish asshole 
contracting and relaxing as he went wild eating my pecker. He gave a jump 
when I poked a finger up his behind and then started sucking wilder than 
ever. He stopped before I came and suddenly crawled off me and kneeled 
beside me with his ass in my direction. I knew what he wanted but this was 
something new. I'd often been on the receiving end from Mr. North so I 
knew what to do but I'd never slipped it to anyone. I didn't waste any time. I 
mounted him in one leap and worked my cock in up to the hairs that 
crowned my pride and joy. It was too wild to just lie still and enjoy it. I 
started pumping wildly and soon my balls were slapping against his ass 
cheeks and I slammed in and out of his hot, tight bottom. 


My crazy pumping knocked him flat on the bed. We nearly came apart 
but I rode him close and didn't miss a beat. He was tight and hot and his 
asshole really gripped my cock. My prick seemed to swell and the old 
honker seemed like it was getting bigger and bigger. The faster I screwed 
him the tighter he seemed to get. It felt like a tube was gripping my cock 
and getting smaller and smaller. I screwed him like there was no tomorrow. 
Bill was screaming under me. He wasn't in pain, it was pure pleasure. I 
didn't know anyone could enjoy it so much. I got so hot I couldn't control 
my motions. After a while I wasn't fucking him by shoving my cock in and 
out; I was just bouncing up and down on top of him. I came in a flood and 
shot bolt after bolt of hot, creamy come up his ass. What a wild fuck that 
had been. 


Well, I suppose I should tell you about the photographer. He was on the 
level all right as far as the pictures were concerned. They were just for a 
paper the store was sending around so it wasn't a big job. Everything was all 
business while he took the shots he wanted. Then he began to make his 
pitch. He said he wasn't sure if he'd need me again. The guy said he needed 
a boy who would really cooperate and was willing to work hard during the 
posing sessions. The list of models he could use for the next assignment he 
had was rather long and my name was last on the list. Then he dropped a 
few hints about how I could move my name up a little. I got the message. I 
left about an hour later with my name at the top. I also left minus a couple 
of shots of my juice but with a load of his up my backside. 


The modeling jobs didn't turn out too well. This guy only did small jobs 
and I had to put out for him every time besides. I didn't know how to make 
contacts for the good jobs. I wasn't even making enough to live at the Y. 
The idea of going back to working the streets as a male prostitute looked 
like the only way I could make a living. I was already letting men use my 
body in return for modeling jobs that didn't pay as much as I could get just 
for peddling my ass. A number of men had approached me on the street 
since I came to New York. I knew I still had what it takes but I had always 
walked away. Now I was desperate. The next man that tried to start a 
conversation while I was hanging around a street corner found a willing 
listener. 


My first score in the city wasn't anything unusual. He took me to a cheap 
hotel and blew me. I made ten bucks. I felt terrible about it afterwards but at 
least I could afford to eat. It was harder to resist the next time. Soon I didn't 
resist at all. Life was just a continuous cycle of strange men in strange 
rooms. 


Hustling in the Big City wasn't much different from where I lived before. 
Some things are the same everywhere. The first thing a hustler has to do is 
establish contact with a customer. You do that by cruising. Cruising is the 
term we use to refer to walking around looking for a partner. Both the male 
prostitute and the customer cruise. We refer to the customers as scores or 
Johns. To score also means to make contact with the customer. Establishing 
contact is usually easy. The Johns usually hang out in certain sections of the 
city and the stud hustlers head for that area to make contacts. Maybe the 
Johns see it as the other way around. Anyway we both go to the same place. 
You advertise your availability by wearing long hair and tight pants. Most 
of the high school kids dress the same way so you have to indicate your 
intentions by the way you stand around waiting. You lean up against the 
buildings in a pose that clearly shows your basket. The pants have to be thin 
as well as tight so the customer can get a good look at what you've got 
between your legs. Most hustlers don't wear underwear so the outline of 
their cocks show better but some wear jockstraps to push their baskets up so 
they appear bigger than they really are. Lots of guys finger themselves 
through their pockets so they get a partial hard on to further attract the 
Johns. 


Once a John spots you there is a brief period of feeling each other out. 
The guy has to find out if you're really selling and you have to make sure 
he's really a buyer and not a cop. After a while you get so you can spot the 
guys who want to make out. I always encourage them a little with a smile 
but I let the customer make the first offer. It's safer that way. Now the cops 
in the city aren't supposed to try to lure homosexuals into making an offer 
so they can arrest them. It didn't used to be that way and I liked to play it 
safe. 


The next thing is to decide on what is to be done, where, and how much 
it will cost. Once the customer has made contact he will usually agree to 
whatever you allow unless he has a strong preference for a particular act. In 
that case he may break off contact and look for someone else or offer you a 
couple of bucks to find someone who will agree to his request. After you 
work the street a while you get to know the other guys and can usually 
arrange it. 


The stud hustlers vary in what they're willing to do for money. Most of 
the young, good-looking guys only allow the scores to blow them. Some 
won't even undress. Most will let the customers see them nude and let them 
play with their cocks or lick their ass or something, but they won't do 
anything for the John. He has to get his kicks from what he does to them. 
They won't even jerk him off. The older hustlers often allow other things in 
order to attract customers. This isn't always the case. Some of the real good- 
looking kids will do almost anything if there is money enough in it. I know 
a lot of them who will suck their customers and even turn over to get 
screwed up the ass. A few will let guys whip them or do some other crazy 
thing if he'll come across with enough bread. One guy I know specializes in 
licking his customer's asshole and letting the John piss on him. Another 
promises the customers a good time by letting them piss up his ass. Both of 
these have a group of guys who keep coming back for more of the same. 


The Johns fall into categories too and there are hustlers for every type. 
Most of them want to suck the hustler's cock. They seem to enjoy being 
able to perform on a beautiful body. I guess it feels like that body really 
belongs to them while they're doing it. They like to watch how you react 
while they're going down on you. I suppose they'd like it done to them but 
so many hustlers have turned them down that most Johns don't even bother 


asking if you'll suck their cocks. They just assume you'll turn them down if 
you're good-looking and really hung so they just gobble your meat and 
make the best of what they can get. 


A few clients are only interested in jerking a guy off. They get a big kick 
out of giving a guy a hand job and watching him shoot. Some catch it in 
their mouths but they like to see the cream spurt out so they don't have your 
pecker in their mouths when you come. A few guys don't even want to 
handle your prick. They just like to watch you jerk off in front of them. 
They just like to look at a handsome stud standing there bare-assed beating 
his meat. Some don't even go that far. They may pretend they want you to 
model naked so they can paint or photograph you. They don't even touch 
the stud but they sure give him a going over with their eyes. 


Some queers really go wild over a boy's ass. I've had some that hardly 
looked at my rod but wanted me to turn around right off and bend over. 
They'd have me spread my cheeks so they could see my asshole. It wouldn't 
be long before I'd feel a finger poking me there or the guy would clamp his 
mouth over my hole and suck like he was going to clean me out. It 
surprised me at first to find that there were men who liked to lick another 
guy's ass but it didn't take me long to get used to it. It's really wild when 
someone sticks his tongue up your behind and gives you a good reaming. 
The thing grows on you. I do it occasionally with my lover but I'd have to 
be paid a lot to do it for money. 


The guys that go for ass really let you know what they want in a hurry. 
Most come right out and tell you they want to stick their cocks up your butt. 
If they don't, you catch on fast when they start feeling your rear and work 
their fingers up the tube. I never let a customer I picked up on the street 
screw me. I was used to it from Mr. North but I felt that was something to 
save for more than one-time relationships. 


Some Johns have real fetishes and I always tried to stay clear of them, 
especially the sadomasochistic crowd. I never could understand how 
anyone could get a thrill out of beating up someone or getting beat up 
himself. 


Most people think a stud hustler makes a lot of money. That isn't so. You 
have to gauge your price to the time, the place, the customer, and even the 


weather. If it's a bad night, you may have to take less than five bucks for 
doing the same thing you might get twenty for when there are lots of queers 
cruising. Most of the scores pay about ten dollars. Each act takes only a few 
minutes but most hustlers can't handle more than three Johns a day. Even 
that pace can't be kept up day after day. Unlike his female counterpart, the 
stud hustler has to ejaculate each time he scores and that puts a limit on how 
many he can handle in a day. Even a top hustler doesn't make much over a 
hundred a week working the street. Sure, some of the high-priced call boys 
make that much on a single date but they have to be willing to do anything 
the John wants. 


The sexual acts between a hustler and his score take place just about 
anywhere a little privacy can be found. Rest rooms in movie theaters are big 
for quickies. Sometimes a quick blow job can be done in the balcony in a 
dark corner. Even the bushes in a park will serve for a quickie called a 
Jungle Job. If the John has money enough he'll take you to a hotel room. 
They may ask to go to your place. They seldom take you to where they live. 


I remember the first time I agreed to a quickie in the back row of a dimly 
lighted theater. This John sat down beside me and started a conversation. I 
agreed to let him have me for five dollars. I started to get up to go with him 
to the toilet but he pulled me back. 


"Take it out," he whispered. 
"What?" I could hardly believe my ears. 
"Unzip and pull it out here," the man repeated. "Nobody will notice." 


It was dark in the balcony but not that dark. "Forget about them," he said 
when he saw me looking at the men in the seats near us. They might watch 
but they won't say anything,” he went on. "Maybe you'll get another offer 
when they get a look at what you've got," he laughed. 


I unzipped my pants while he got down between the seats. He lifted my 
cock out of my pants like it was a new toy he was seeing for the first time. I 
could see the whites of his eyes gleam in the faint light as he watched my 
long beautiful prick get even longer. The guy just toyed with my tool for a 
while before starting to suck. I looked around and saw several men looking 
at us. That didn't stop the guy on his knees. He shook my pecker around at 


them and just laughed when I told him to hurry up and blow me. I finally 
told him I was going to come so he'd start sucking. Instead he just stopped 
jerking me and waited for my prick to quiet down a little. Then he worked 
on my rod some more and played with my balls. He got a kick out of 
pulling my cock down against the seat and then letting it pop back up in the 
air. He kept doing this until a long string of pre-come hit him right in the 
face when my stiff dick flew up. 


"Let's get that back where it belongs," he laughed, rubbing his face 
against my stiff dick and smearing the clear liquid all over it. 


He started sucking in earnest. He was pretty good at it. My butt was 
humping up off the seat and I pumped into his hungry mouth. In a few 
minutes I shot bullet after bullet of hot, creamy come into his sucking 
mouth. The guy didn't swallow but held it all in his mouth until I stopped 
coming. I expected him to spit it out and he did. All over my cock. 


"You son of a bitch!" I yelled at him. The stuff made a mess all over my 
cock and balls and was dripping down in my pants. 


"Just relax," he told me. "Don't worry, kid. I'll clean it up." He lowered 
his head again and began licking at the syrup. He kept licking and eating it 
off me until I was stiff again. He started sucking and I came again in a few 
minutes. 


"Swallow it this time, you bastard," I told him while I held his head to 
make sure he wouldn't mess me up again. He swallowed, then casually got 
up and left. 


He was right about getting another offer. As soon as he left one of the 
guys that had been watching came over and took his place before I even had 
time to zip back up. 


Quickies often occur in cars too. These guys are easy to pick up. All you 
have to do is stand on the street corner and wait. Usually a guy will stop and 
offer you a lift within fifteen or twenty minutes. He may take you to his 
apartment or a hotel or he may just drive some place where it's kind of 
private and go down on you right in the car. Usually all you have to do is 
open your pants so the guy can go to work. The hustler has to keep watch 
while the queer performs. If you carry a jacket you can drop it over your lap 


if anyone comes along. The John can pretend he was picking up something 
from the floor and nobody is the wiser. 


Doing it in public can be dangerous. I remember once a guy was going 
down on me in his car. "Lift your butt," he told me, "so I can get these off 
your ass." He pulled down my jeans. I wasn't wearing shorts. The guy 
began feeling of my rear while he worked on me. He pushed my shirt up 
and began tonguing my belly. He skipped my prick and started licking my 
legs. He soon came back. His hands kept feeling my ass while he chewed 
down on my hot dog. I didn't see a cop approaching until he was nearly on 
top of us. We were parked in a deserted alley and I thought it was curtains 
for us. The man just had time to slide my jeans up before the cop reached 
the car. I slipped his jacket over my lap and the guy pretended he was trying 
to fix the radio since he didn't have time to sit up. The cop told us to be 
careful about parking in dark alleys—lots of muggings, you know. Good 
thing he didn't ask us to step out of the car. If he had my pants would have 
fallen down and I'd have been standing there bare-assed with my pecker 
sticking out all wet and slimy. The cop just warned us of the dangers and 
waited until we drove off. It didn't phase the guy a bit. I was scared shitless 
but he just drove to another alley and wanted to start where we left off. This 
time I kept my pants up and just held them open. 


Gay bars are excellent places to pick up customers. Lots of guys give it 
away free there but if you're good-looking, young, and hung you can sell it. 
I was too young to do much hustling there. I was still only seventeen when I 
first got to New York. It was easy to get a forged ID card. I looked even 
younger than seventeen and lots of gay bars wouldn't let me in the place. 
They knew the ID was a phony and they didn't want to take any risks of 
getting closed down for serving a minor. They have to be twice as careful as 
the regular places. 


Nothing much happens as far as sex goes in these places anyway. They're 
just a meeting place. The guys go somewhere else for the sex. Once in a 
while a guy will go down on another in the rest room but the bar owners 
kick anybody like that out if they catch them. The cops would close them 
down if they had proof that anything like that went on. Usually the guys just 
open up their pants and hang their meat over the urinals. The queers come 
in to take a piss or just to look over the merchandise. I've often seen three or 


four guys in these places standing at the urinals with their pricks half-hard 
waiting for a pickup. 


Turkish baths are another favorite hangout for homos. A stud hustler 
usually doesn't do too well at these places. Too many men are there all buck 
naked and over half of them looking for sex and giving it away free. 
Sometimes you can pick up a guy because so many of the men who 
patronize these places are quite old. If an old geezer is looking for some 
young meat, he'll probably have to pay for it. The young queers pair off 
together and don't want some old bastard butting in. Once in a while they 
might let an old guy suck them but it's not likely. Competition is pretty 
keen. Given the choice between a free blow job for him and just a chance to 
blow someone else that he has to pay, most queers will take the first. The 
hustler has to have something pretty special between his legs to sell it in 
these places. 


Besides those things, it takes too long to score in the baths. You'd think 
that if you walked up to someone naked and showed him your hard on, he'd 
give you the nod right away. No. They want to get the best deal they can so 
they want to look around first. The place is so hot it takes all your energy. 
Then if you do manage to score, you have to check out with the guy so he 
can get his money at the front desk and pay you. If you want to go back in, 
you have to pay another fee to use the baths. You'd go broke working these 
places. 


Hustling is hard work. The actual fuck usually only takes a few minutes 
but you have to spend most of the time trying to make contacts. You may 
spend less than an hour each day actually working with a customer and 
eight or ten hours trying to find them. Some guys get pissed off if you don't 
do what they want. They get mad if you can't get it stiff and keep it that way 
while they're with you. They bitch about everything. 


You have to worry about the cops. You have to worry about pleasing the 
customers. You have to worry about losing your youth, or your hair, or 
whatever else gives you sex appeal. You also have to worry about the young 
toughs who prey on queers and beat them up just for the hell of it. 


Sex isn't really enjoyable with a customer. Sure, you really feel groovy 
when someone's sucking your dick but then you feel dirty about it 


afterwards. The customers treat you like dirt. They think you're a machine 
to satisfy their lust. Most consider us young punks selling our bodies 
because we're too lazy to work. You meet some nice guys who are 
considerate of you, but most figure they can boss you around because 
they're paying you. The queers you find on the street always seem to be ina 
hurry. They want everything they can get from you in the fastest amount of 
time they can get it in. Working the streets becomes just a blur of endless 
empty faces. 


CHAPTER SEVEN 
One Day 


One day in this life is about like any other day. Suppose I describe a 
particular one to you. A few things made it different, but it's fairly typical. I 
started the day off with a pizza. Having pizza for breakfast isn't the way 
most people start their day but then most people don't get up in the middle 
of the afternoon. It was nearly two when I hit the streets and nobody feels 
like having bacon and eggs at that time of day. 


It was raining. Business was sure to be slow. The streets were nearly 
deserted. I finished breakfast and headed west on 42nd Street. It wasn't 
raining as hard then and I began making plans. The movies are always good 
on rainy days. I looked at the advertisements outside the theaters for a 
likely-looking flick. The nudies are always good. I tried to find one that 
featured some good-looking male actors on the posters because they drew 
the customers I was looking for. Nothing looked good. 


My clothes were soaking wet by then and I didn't feel like sitting around 
in them waiting for someone to pick me up in the theaters. I thought of the 
Turkish baths but I didn't feel like going through that today. It was just too 
much trouble. I still had a few dollars and I thought of quitting for the day 
and going back to my room. I didn't feel like that either. My room was too 
depressing. I was staying at a cheap rooming house and the place was pretty 
barren. The walls were painted a dirty gray and the two windows in the 
room faced a brick wall. A bed, chair, dresser, stand, and lamp made up the 
furniture. All in all, it wasn't a pleasant place to spend an afternoon. 


I decided to check out the sex-book shops. Forty-second street is loaded 
with them. You can't make any contacts in the shops. The shopkeepers 
won't let you linger there. If they think you're hustling, out you go. It's not 
that they're that moral. A lot of them trade in pornography on the side. They 
don't want to invite any trouble from the cops. 


I never actually propositioned a guy in one of the shops. The shops serve 
a different purpose. First, they attract prospective customers to the area. 


Second, they help you sort out the homos. I watch to see which men are 
buying the male nudist and physique magazines. I follow a likely-looking 
customer out and try to start a conversation in the street. If he's interested, 
he'll take it from there. 


You win some and lose some. This day I picked a loser on the first try. I 
should have known better. He was a timid-looking man about thirty-five 
and seemed nervous while picking out the magazines. I made some 
comment about the things he bought when we got to the street. He turned 
red, mumbled something about being an artist and kept right on walking. I 
guess he was too shy to make it with anyone. He probably jerked off while 
looking at all the bare-assed studs in the books he bought. 


I didn't press the matter. There were plenty of other fish in the sea. The 
second guy I tried was almost as bad as the first. I scored with him, but it 
took some doing. I could tell he was interested in me from the way he kept 
glancing at me in the shop. I followed him out and asked him for a light. 
The poor sucker almost burned himself lighting my cigarette. I took one 
puff and held the fag in my hand. I hadn't started smoking again but I found 
this was a good way to meet guys so I just used it as a prop. 


I mentioned a few things about the magazines he bought and then told 
him I used to model for pictures like that. He got so excited about that that I 
thought he was going to shit in his pants. I told him I was willing to show 
him how I posed, for a price. The guy was real nice. It turned out to be the 
first time he'd ever done anything with a guy. It never occurred to me that 
there had to be a first time for a customer too. I remembered how nervous 
I'd been with my first score and tried to make it easy for the guy. I couldn't 
get over how polite he was. He kept saying "please," and "thank you." He 
even asked me once what I wanted to do. Can you imagine that? I let him 
blow me once and then did him. I didn't suck him completely off, but I got 
him real excited and then finished him off by hand. I spent longer with him 
than I should have. He seemed lonely and glad to have someone to talk to. 
He invited me to dinner afterwards. We ate and the guy wanted me to go 
back to his room again. I told him I had another appointment and cut out. I 
didn't want to get emotionally involved. 


The rain had nearly stopped when I left the restaurant. It was getting 
dark. I headed back to the Times Square area to try for another customer. I 


felt sad and didn't feel like trying to score but it would have been worse 
back in my room. The hardest thing about this life is that there is always 
such a terrible period of loneliness whenever you're not busy. You have to 
keep moving. You can be lonely even in a crowd. 


I wasn't long in attracting another customer. This guy was different. I 
didn't like him right off. To begin with, he was smoking a cigar. I don't 
know why, but I never liked anyone who smoked a cigar. He was well- 
dressed and apparently well-educated. He seemed around forty-five and 
was obviously experienced in dealing with male prostitutes. It was his 
conceited attitude that irritated me. He was abrupt and to the point. 


"You interested in making a few bucks, kid?" he came right up and asked 
me as I was standing on the street. 


We agreed on a price and I went with him to a hotel. "Get your clothes 
off," the man ordered as soon as we were in the room. He flicked the lock 
on the door and walked over to an easy chair. The man lit another cigar and 
settled back to watch me undress. The stench from the foul-smelling thing 
soon filled the room. 


He smoked quietly until I was nude, then motioned me forward. "That's 
far enough," he shouted when I got a few feet in front of him. "Turn 
around." 


I turned my back to him and waited. "Not bad," he said after a minute, 
then told me to turn around again. 


"Get it stiff," he grunted, motioning toward my penis. 


I put my hands into play and quickly achieved the desired results. I 
dropped my hands and pointed my hard on toward him. 


"Good. That's a good-sized cock you've got there," he nodded, puffing on 
his cigar. "Now go and wash that horse cock of yours. There's no telling 
where you've had your dick. Take a shower," he continued, "and scrub 
yourself good before you come back." 


His remarks were pretty insulting. You'd have thought that if I had any 
pride I'd have put back on my pants and walked out. I didn't. It wasn't a 
matter of pride. I guess it was conditioning. What is pride anyway? It 


doesn't put bread on the table. You just ignore their insults. You think of the 
money. In fact, you don't even hear what the Johns say. You just respond by 
going through the motions. It's as simple as that. 


I returned from the shower in a few minutes and waited for the next 
command. 


He looked me up and down like I was a piece of dirt and started in on 
insults again. "Now you're probably clean enough to touch," the man 
snorted as he continued to puff on the cigar. "Well, don't just stand there. 
Get over here," he added impatiently. 


"At least it's clean," he continued, looking at my freshly scrubbed cock. 
"I just hope you haven't got some disease,“ he mumbled as he reached for 
me. He flicked my prick with his finger. It hurt. I flinched a little but didn't 
step back. Then he grabbed my cock and started jerking it with his large, 
meaty hand. He wasn't gentle and I felt more pain than pleasure. It didn't get 
stiff. 


"You bastards are all alike," he snorted, flinging my still limp prick aside. 
"You've peddled your ass so much you can't get a hard on when it's 
needed." 


I felt like telling him to try being a little more gentle and he'd get results. 
Instead I just stood there bare-assed and waited. 


"Tum around and bend over," he ordered, snorting in disgust and 
grinding out his cigar in the ashtray by his chair. 


I leaned forward and rested my hands on my spread knees. "Spread your 
cheeks," came the next request. 


I had already told him I didn't take it up the ass. Still this wasn't an 
unusual request even though he knew he couldn't cornhole me. Lots of guys 
like to look at your asshole even if you won't let them stick their cocks up it. 
He looked for about a minute while I held my ass spread apart, then pushed 
my hands away and spread my cheeks himself. He really pulled my butt 
apart. I felt like he was going to split me right down the middle. I leaned my 
hands on my knees again and bore the pain without comment. I heard him 


spit. He was right on target. A thick glob of spit hit me right square on the 
asshole. Before I could protest he jammed his finger right up my behind. 


"Hey! I told you I don't go that route," I yelled at him, trying to pull 
away. 


"Shut up," he answered, pushing me back down. "I'm just using my 
finger. Relax. There's nothing so special about your damn ass anyway. In a 
few years you'll be selling it on the street just like the rest of them," he 
continued. His remarks really burned me up but I stayed bent over while he 
continued to feel around. His fingers were short but thick and he didn't take 
any pains to be gentle. He'd jab his middle finger right up my ass until his 
knuckles collided with my backside and then he'd twist it. He kept pulling it 
out and jabbing it in again. Most guys rub your prostate when they finger 
your ass to get you hot. This guy didn't. He didn't want me to get any 
pleasure. He just wanted it to hurt. That pleased him. Soon one finger 
wasn't enough and he was using two. 


I pulled away. He talked me into bending over again as long as he didn't 
use his fingers. 


He started squeezing the plump globes of my behind. The lousy bastard 
kept pinching my ass until I expected my rear would be all covered with 
marks. Then he started slapping my bare bottom. 


"Cut out the nonsense!" I yelled at him as I straightened up. 


"Don't go putting on airs with me,“ he replied. "If your old man had 
whacked your backside a little more when you were a kid you wouldn't be 
peddling it now. You young punks need to get your ass blistered every once 
in a while so you don't get too cocky." 


He had his nerve to criticize me. I felt like asking him what his excuse 
was. How come he was so perfect? But I didn't. Why bother? All I wanted 
was to earn my money and get out. I didn't care what he thought of me. If I 
started arguing I'd just be wasting time. 


"Get on the bed! What's the matter? Can't you hear?" He was shouting at 
me. I realized that I hadn't heard him the first time. I laid down. 


"Lie on your back and keep still so I can get my money's worth," he said 
as he moved between my spread legs. I watched until he opened his pants 
and took out his swollen organ. It was kind of puny. His pecker was real 
short—not more than three inches stiff. Too bad, I laughed to myself as I 
closed my eyes and relaxed. 


"What's the matter with you? It isn't even stiff,“ he grumbled as his wet 
mouth closed over my limp dick. He sucked a little and then removed his 
mouth. "What's the matter with you anyway?" he asked again. "You queer 
or something?" 


The last remark was really funny and I would have burst out laughing 
except he chose that exact minute to squeeze my balls. I must have blacked 
out for a few seconds. I remember the room was swimming and the pain in 
my nuts was unbearable. Tears came into my eyes and I remember he called 
me a crybaby. When things began to clear he was sucking my prick again 
and had a finger up my ass grinding away. My cock was still limp but he 
was really giving it a working over. His finger jabbed away and his wet 
mouth was drooling all over my cock and balls. 


He let go of my cock and started tonguing my balls. They were pretty 
tender after the way he squeezed them but his wet tongue felt good there. I 
still hadn't gotten hard but he started jerking my cock again and I finally 
began to get a hard on. The guy watched it grow and then popped it in his 
mouth again. His finger was grinding around in my ass like he was trying to 
stretch the hole big enough to put his whole fist in. He sucked faster and 
faster and I finally shot my come into his wildly sucking mouth. 


"Well, get up,“ he ordered as soon as he had recovered his breath. "You're 
messing up my bed." 


I saw he'd jerked off while blowing me. I wanted to shower but didn't 
want to give him a chance to put me down again. I could just hear him, 
"What? You want to mess up my bathroom with your dirt? Get the hell out 
of here, you little tramp!" 


I dressed in a hurry and left. The cold wind felt good on my face as I 
started up the street. The rain had stopped and the dark streets looked wet 
and shiny. It was time to go home. I felt tired but I knew I couldn't sleep. 
The last two customers had been too upsetting. You always meet kooks like 


this last guy. It was the first guy that got to me. His first time. I remembered 
my first time. I was so deep in thought that I didn't realize someone was 
walking beside me until he spoke. 


"Hi. Kind of wet weather," the voice said. I looked up. The voice 
belonged to a young kid about eighteen or nineteen. He was about my age 
or a little older so I didn't figure him for a customer. He was dressed too 
well to be a hustler. The kid looked like a college student. Some of them 
hustle but he didn't look like a hustler. Besides, he wouldn't try to pick me 
up. I didn't look like a customer. I was puzzled. What did he want? 


"If you aren't busy, how about joining me for a cup of coffee," the boy 
continued, flashing me a smile that showed even white teeth. The kid was 
real good-looking. 


He introduced himself and led the way into a small cafeteria on one of 
the side streets. We ordered coffee and rolls and I waited for him to clue me 
in. He didn't waste any time. 


"You're a hustler, aren't you?" he asked. 


"So?" I replied. I didn't expect him to come right out with it. Most guys 
feel you out first. Maybe he was just inexperienced. 


"Don't get sore," he said when he noticed the slight anger in my voice. 
He smiled again and told me his story. He was a student at one of the 
colleges in New England. The boy explained that he was a homosexual and 
the sight of all the handsome boys in his dorm running around bare-assed 
while taking showers or changing had really worked him up. He didn't dare 
try anything with the guys. He'd come to the city where he could let off a 
little steam. 


He asked me if I wanted to spend the night with him. He said I looked 
like I might show him a good time. The kid told me I didn't have to do a 
thing if I didn't want to. He'd be happy just to blow me. 


The waitress returned before I had a chance to answer. I thought about 
the offer while she was serving. Usually I'd have turned him down because 
I didn't like to spend the night with anyone. Tonight I felt too lonely to sleep 
alone. I nodded and he smiled again. 


The kid had an expensive room in one of the better hotels. He fixed a 
drink and we talked quietly while we finished it. Then he suggested that we 
shower together. We undressed and he watched me closely while I took off 
my clothes. I looked him over too. He was nude first and stood there bare- 
assed with a tremendous hard on sticking straight out from the curly hair on 
his belly. He looked young and innocent standing there all nude even with 
his big prick sticking out. 


He wrapped his arm around me and led the way to the bathroom. He 
adjusted the shower and we stepped inside. I felt his warm, soapy hands 
washing my back and turned to face him. He threw his arms around me and 
planted a warm, open-mouthed kiss on my lip. Ordinarily I'd have turned 
my face away but tonight I responded. I was upset and needed something 
more than just raw sex. We clung to each other and kissed while our hands 
moved slowly over the other's body. We stayed under the warm spray 
rubbing together until the kid came all over my belly. We rinsed off and 
headed for the bedroom. 


His hungry mouth found my stiff dong as soon as we hit the sack. I gave 
him a mouthful almost as soon as he started sucking. He swallowed my 
boy-cream like it was food for the gods. The kid's cock was stiff again so I 
gave him a blow job too. What the hell. It was OK as long as I didn't make 
a habit of treating my customers that way. 


We laid in the dark and talked for a long time after it was over. I found 
myself pouring out my true feelings. That was something else I had never 
done with my Johns. I must have been getting soft. Finally we rolled into 
each other's arms and fell asleep. 


I woke up first the next morning. I was still tangled in the boy's arms. His 
face was next to mine on the pillow and I wanted to reach over and kiss his 
soft, slightly parted lips. Instead I pushed him away and got out of bed as 
quickly as I could. I wanted to get out of there. I was getting emotionally 
involved and that was bad. I had to take a piss before dressing and the kid 
was awake and waiting for me when I came back. 


I knew I was getting soft. I let him blow me again and then take me to 
breakfast. He wanted me to go back to his room with him but I told him I 
had to split. 


I was out of the hotel coffee shop before I realized that he hadn't paid me. 
All that time and no money to show for it. He hadn't tried to cheat me. I 
usually collected first and the kid had taken out the money but I was so 
anxious to shower that I had told him to give it to me later. I didn't go back 
for my dough. 


What the hell. I didn't want to see him again. I walked back to my pad 
and hit the sack. I remember thinking it's another day . . . it's raining again. 
. . I'm sleepy now . . . and I'm crying. 


CHAPTER EIGHT 
A New Daddy 


For a long time I didn't have a single friend in the city. My customers 
certainly weren't interested in establishing any friendships. There wasn't 
much chance to meet anyone else. No decent person would hang around 
once they got to know me. If they asked what my job was, I'd have to 
answer, Hustling. What's yours?" 


How long do you think they'd talk to me once they found that out? It was 
a lonesome life. I had never been entirely alone before. 


Someone had always been around that I could talk to. I could never tell 
all my problems to my mother, but we could discuss many things and I 
always felt better afterwards. Even if we didn't mention the main thing that 
bothered me, just being around someone who really cared was encouraging. 
Now there was no one to give me the strength to face each day. I've always 
been a weak person. Not physically weak, but weak in the other sense. I 
gave up too easily. If something didn't work out the first time, I wasn't the 
type that tried again. The other thing that bothered me was the hopelessness 
of my life. There just didn't seem any way to get out of the mess I was in. 
After walking the streets, I used to go back to my room, flop down on the 
bed, and cry myself to sleep. 


I suppose that doesn't sound like a tough stud hustler to you. Maybe I 
wasn't typical of all of them, but I found out later that there were lots of kids 
in this business who felt like me. Many of the guys act like they're made out 
of solid iron. They look, act, and talk tough. Mostly they're covering up. 
They're afraid to show their real feelings. Deep down inside they're just as 
weak and helpless as the rest of us. We all pretend. We pretend we like the 
Johns. We pretend we think they're great lovers. We pretend to be driven 
wild by the way they suck so they give us a bigger tip. Sometimes we even 
pretend to have an orgasm and the Johns don't even know the difference. 
Our life is like a play. In a way it's a comedy but to those of us who are the 
actors, it's a tragedy. 


I don't know how many times I considered suicide, several times a day at 
least. After working the streets for several months, things began to get a 
little better. I finally found a friend. He was a stud hustler too. We saw each 
other a number of times on the street before we spoke. By chance, we met 
at an all-night cafeteria when we stopped for coffee. The place was nearly 
empty but I guess we both felt like talking so we sat together. The boy's 
name was Larry. He hadn't finished high school and had been working the 
street for over a year. He was a couple of months younger than I was but a 
lot more experienced. Larry was blond, well-built, and extremely 
handsome. He acted masculine but his face was so sensitive that he had a 
girlish quality about him too. His body was also smooth and hairless but so 
beautifully developed that there wasn't a trace of femininity about him 
there. He moved with the grace of a cat. 


Larry and I hit it off right from the start. We started meeting for coffee 
and then for meals. He was a lot like me. He couldn't find any other job he 
was suited for and was unhappy as a hustler. Of course both of us could 
have been washing dishes or working at something like that but we just 
couldn't stand these jobs. It wasn't because we were lazy. People boss you 
around and yell at you if you do anything wrong when you're doing that 
kind of work. That was the part we couldn't take. There was something 
about our makeup that demanded praise or at least acceptance from other 
people. No matter what they thought of us at other times, our customers 
gave us that while they were admiring our bodies and sucking our joints. 
For a while at least, we were desirable. 


Unlike me, Larry admitted that he was a homosexual. I knew I was one 
too. Only I wouldn't admit it, even to myself. I explained my feeling for 
other boys when I was growing up as just a phase I was going through. My 
feelings for Mr. North were just out of gratitude. The thrills I got from sex 
with another male were just kicks that didn't mean anything. I kept telling 
myself I was really normal. 


Larry had an unhappy life too. He first became aware of his 
homosexuality when he was very young. He said he had liked boys for as 
long as he could remember. Larry said he hardly ever had sex with any of 
the boys he loved. He just fell in love with them the way other boys fall in 
love with girls. After he got older, he began sucking the cock of any 


attractive boy who'd let him. His father found out what he was doing and 
drove him out of the house. Larry's mother tried to change his old man's 
mind but he wouldn't listen to her. He even forbad her to see him. Even a 
year and a half later when I met him, Larry still couldn't write to his mother 
at home. Instead he sent them to one of her friends who passed them along 
when his father wasn't at home. His mother wrote to him nearly every day 
and told him how much she missed him. I think she understood his 
problem. At least she wanted to help but nothing could change his father's 
mind. It was a very bad situation. 


Larry and I grew closer and closer. We had the same problems. It was 
nice to have someone to talk to and someone who would really listen. I had 
always stayed away from other hustlers because they seemed like such 
horrible creatures. I don't know why I thought I was so much better than the 
rest of them. It's the kind of job you don't expect to meet a nice kid in. Larry 
wasn't at all what I expected. He had feelings too and we soon became good 
friends. After a few weeks he asked me to share his apartment. 


The apartment wasn't expensive but Larry had it fixed up nice. There was 
a furnished bedroom, living room, small kitchen, and bath. He kept the 
place spotless. He had added some new drapes, pictures, and ceramic 
articles that made the place seem cozy and homelike. It was a lot better 
coming home to a place like this instead of a bare room. The real difference 
was being able to come home to someone who cared. 


We shared the only bed in the apartment. We used to sleep together 
locked in each other's arms. Physical sex didn't enter into the relationship 
most of the time. When it did, it was different from anything I had 
experienced before. With Larry it was love. Sure, the acts were the same. 
We sucked each other's cock and took it up the ass sometimes, but we were 
really trying to make the other feel good, not just getting our rocks off. 


We used to hustle the queers for four or five days and then take a couple 
of days off and try to forget. Larry and I would visit the museums and other 
sights in the city like a couple of tourists. We were happy for the first time 
in a long while. 


I also admitted to myself for the first time that I was really a homosexual. 
I loved Larry more than anyone else in the world. We wanted to be near 


each other all the time. It was a good feeling to wake up in the night and 
know you weren't alone. Whenever I woke up, I'd reach out in the dark and 
touch him to assure myself he was really there. Once assured, I'd snuggle up 
to him and go back to sleep. 


Some Johns like to hire two boys to perform for them. I'd had some 
offers but turned them down. It would cheapen our relationship. Our love 
was something secret. Then one of my customers offered to make me a kept 
boy again. 


I turned him down at first because it would have meant leaving Larry. I 
was sorry because I really wanted to get off the street. All was not lost. He 
made me a better offer and I countered by asking him if he'd be interested in 
supporting two boys. Was he ever! He went for the idea like a duck to 
water. 


I had to talk Larry into accepting. Larry had never been kept before and 
was a little hesitant about accepting the job. He felt our love should be 
secret too. I told him all the advantages over our present life and he finally 
agreed. We met our prospective employer for lunch and talked over the 
details. We could have a couple of days off by ourselves each week and 
didn't have to participate in any sex acts we objected to. Larry and I 
accepted his offer. 


Mr. Reed, our new employer was a fat, jolly man in his late fifties. He 
was a retired businessman with plenty of money. He had an apartment in 
the city and a home on Long Island. The country estate had a huge pool and 
was fenced in for complete privacy—very nice for nude swimming. Mr. 
Reed spent nearly all summer there. During the winter he alternated 
between there and his apartment. 


When he was fully dressed, Mr. Reed looked quite pleasant. He had a fat, 
round face that was always smiling. Undressed, he was something else. 
Huge folds of fat hung down all over his body. His sex organs looked like a 
little boy's. Even erect, he couldn't have been more than a couple of inches. 
His stomach was so huge he couldn't even see himself. 


Mr. Reed was aware of the effect his body would probably have on us. 
He seldom showed himself nude. When he did, it was just for a few seconds 
while he was changing into his robe. He never asked us to handle his prick 


or do anything to him. He jerked himself off under the robe. I guess he was 
ashamed of how he looked or else he thought we were so beautifully built 
that he'd spoil the effect by being nude with us. 


We moved in with Mr. Reed in the middle of December. It was late 
afternoon when we showed up at his apartment. He told us to shower and 
get dressed for dinner. I guess I should say get undressed for dinner. All he 
wanted us to wear while we ate were jockstraps. I knew from my previous 
meetings with him that he liked to admire the male physique in the raw. He 
had never seen Larry bare-assed before so I knew he was looking forward 
to that. We took our showers, slipped into the jocks, and joined him in the 
dining room. His eyes really lighted up when we walked in. The sight of 
two nearly naked well-built young boys was almost more than he could 
take. His eyes traveled from one to the other and back again. Finally he 
motioned us to sit down and rang for dinner to be served. 


I knew about the servant but Larry didn't. He almost flipped when he 
found out someone was going to walk in and see him dressed in an athletic 
supporter. I gave him a look that told him everything was all right and he 
settled down. The only servant Mr. Reed employed was an old man of 
Oriental ancestry. I think he was Chinese. He was so old and withered I had 
no idea of his age but he looked at least a hundred. I knew he couldn't be 
that old because of the way he moved and all the work he did but he sure 
looked ancient. He served us without seeming to notice that all we had on 
were jockstraps. He acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 
Later on we got so we didn't mind having him around even when we were 
getting sucked off or something. Both of us might be running around bare- 
assed with our cocks at full staff but he just went about his duties as if 
nothing strange was going on. His facial expression never changed. I often 
wondered what he really thought about what was going on. 


We ate a delicious meal and went into the living room. "Let's see if you 
got enough to eat," Mr. Reed said, motioning to Larry. 


Larry stood beside him while he felt his tummy. Then he felt some other 
places where you don't store food. A jockstrap leaves you pretty exposed 
back there. I could see Larry's jock bulging as our host ran his hands over 
the smooth flesh. Afterwards it was my turn to have my tummy patted. My 


bare backside also got the same patting that Larry's got. My jock was 
getting too tight too by the time he was through. 


"You boys are just like living statues," he told us. "Let's see you pose like 
those boys," he went on, pointing to a small statue of two Greek wrestlers. 


We spent the next several minutes posing together and playfully 
wrestling while he admired our bodies. Then he motioned me forward and 
removed my jock. He had already seen me naked before but his eyes 
widened just the same when the supporter came down. My cock popped up 
when the tight elastic was slipped off. Mr. Reed liked that. His eyes lighted 
up like a little kid eyeing an ice cream cone when my ruby-tipped pole 
leaped up in his face. He watched it bobbing in the air and then reached out 
and turned me gently around. I made a complete circle until my bouncing 
dick was pointing at him again. He reached for it and gently frigged it for a 
minute. A drop of pre-come juice came out the little eye and he leaned 
forward and gently licked it off with his tongue. He kissed the tip and 
motioned to Larry. 


"Come on over and join the fun,“ he told him. Larry practically ran over. 
He wasn't that anxious to get sucked. It's just that you've got to remember 
that a tight jock is pretty uncomfortable when you've got a hard on. 


Larry's jockstrap joined mine on the floor and Mr. Reed reached for his 
cock. He touched it very gently and compared it to mine. My dick was 
dripping again so he released Larry and put his tongue to work on me again. 
Larry's cock drooped a little as he watched and I could tell he was a little 
nervous. It was almost limp when Mr. Reed turned his attention back to 
him. 


"Let's see it rise," Mr. Reed smiled, bending close to Larry's prick and 
starting to frig him gently. Larry's prick came up fast. A great big smile 
came on Mr. Reed's face and I almost came period because he was still 
playing with my prick while frigging Larry's. 


Mr. Reed spent several minutes playing with our pricks, one hard cock in 
each hand. Then he moved us closer and started rubbing our cocks together. 
He laughed at the way we squirmed and pranced around as the tender ruby 
heads slipped over each other. He finally put his face between them, 


wrapped his arms around our bottoms and hugged us to him. We wiggled 
against him and ground our stiff pricks against his face. 


Mr. Reed went back to working on us one at a time. He had Larry and me 
take turns standing between his spread legs while he sucked our pricks. He 
always seemed to know just when we were ready to come and stopped just 
before we creamed. After a while he took us into the bedroom and had us 
lie on the huge bed. He went from Larry's cock to mine and back again like 
a kid who couldn't decide which lollipop he liked better and wanted to eat 
them both at once. He even had us lie on our sides with our pricks together 
and tried to suck them both at once. We're both pretty big and that didn't 
work out too well. 


Mr. Reed went back to sucking us one at a time and really dragged it out. 
He always frigged or sucked us so slowly we were climbing the walls 
before he finished. He knew just the second to stop before we popped. I 
don't know how he did it. He must have kept us stiff for thirty or forty 
minutes. Larry's and my pricks were pointed straight up at the ceiling while 
he was sucking them. They were all covered with saliva and shone in the 
soft light of the bedroom. I looked down at my stiff red pole and it didn't 
seem to belong to me. It seemed like some attachment to my body that was 
sending wave after wave of unbearable pleasure through me. 


He couldn't drag it out forever and Larry finally pumped his sweet boy- 
cream into Mr. Reed's waiting mouth. He ate the stuff like it was the best 
tasting dish on earth. With just me to work on, Mr. Reed soon got a second 
helping of boy-cream. 


After it was over he had us climb into the bathtub together while he 
washed us. He called us his little boys. He washed us carefully, not quite 
fatherly, and took us back to the bedroom. We both had hard ons again by 
that time. He asked us if we wanted to do anything while he watched. We 
did a sixty-nine for him. Then he blew us both again and let us go to our 
rooms. 


We always slept in our own room. That was one of the things we insisted 
on before taking the job. We didn't want to have to sleep with him. Mr. 
Reed had wanted one of us to sleep on each side of him. He was 
disappointed but saw our point of view and settled for having us the rest of 


the time. Larry and I fell asleep in each other's arms that night the same as 
always. We were now the exclusive property of another man. It wasn't a 
good feeling but it was better than working the streets. At least we knew 
where our next meal was coming from. For another thing, we didn't have to 
worry about being busted by the cops. 


Mr. Reed didn't make too many demands. I guess you could call him a 
voyeur. He loved to watch us. Whenever we were alone he had us strip 
down and parade around bare-assed. Sometimes he had us wear something 
like a jockstrap or posing pouch. At other times we dressed in a tee or sweat 
shirt with nothing below. He also kept a supply of tiny briefs, some of them 
transparent, which he had us wear. Once in a while he wanted us dressed in 
boots. The favorite way he liked us to dress was in white athletic socks— 
just socks, nothing else. Actually that was his second favorite, if you want 
to consider epidermis as a way of dressing. Just about everything was done 
in the nude or partly dressed. We ate in the nude. We slept in the nude. We 
swam in the pool in the nude. We exercised in the nude. And, of course, we 
had sex in the nude. 


A part of each day was spent in doing exercises. Mr. Reed didn't exercise 
himself but he liked to watch. Larry and I started out dressed in jockstraps. 
Mr. Reed would walk around and feel our muscles while we worked out. 
After several minutes he'd adjust the leg straps on our jocks so they ran up 
between the cheeks of our ass instead of below them. He'd readjust them up 
and down several times before we finished. His fingers always went along 
the crack and somehow managed to find our assholes every time. Then it 
was "jocks off" time and we finished the rest of our exercises bare-assed. 


He just couldn't get enough of watching us. After the exercises, he liked 
us to pose for him while he ran his hands over our naked bodies. He also 
liked to have us wrestle bare-assed. 


He'd sit back and sip a cold drink while we fooled around. Just watching 
us lie naked on a bed excited him. Seeing us sucking or playing with each 
other's prick really turned him on. After the exercises he gave us each a rub 
down and really felt us up. 


Mr. Reed was fascinated with our cocks. He used to have us take all sorts 
of strange poses so he could study our pricks in different positions. He liked 


to watch our pricks get hard. He always jerked us off so slowly that it was 
sometimes almost too much to bear. His face was always right down near it 
so he could see the juice shoot out when we came. Sometimes he caught our 
boy-cream in his open mouth. 


Another thing he liked to do was to coat his hands with cold cream and 
make a tunnel out of his fingers and palms. "Show me your motion, boys," 
he'd say and we'd have to make fucking motions into his slippery hands. 
Sometimes he had us do that to each other. He liked to watch our asses 
move as we shoved back and forth. He sometimes greased up the crack in 
the other boy's ass and had the other one slide his prick up and down the 
slippery groove until he creamed. Once in a while we even fucked the other 
guy in the ass while he watched. 


Mr. Reed also liked to watch us piss. For a while when we first got there 
he never let us go to the bathroom alone. He was always there holding our 
cocks and directing the stream of yellow liquid into the bowl. He used to 
wake us up in the morning and tell us to come into the bathroom and be his 
fountain. We laid in the tub and pissed straight up into the air. Sometimes he 
had us pee into a glass bottle while he held our pricks and guided the warm 
yellow stream. Once or twice he laid down in the bathtub and had Larry and 
me piss on him. That kind of turned us off and he stopped. He kept on 
holding our cocks for us the rest of the time we pissed though. He just loved 
to watch the water shoot out of our pissers. 


Everything wasn't just watching. In addition to jerking us off, he also 
sucked us off at least once every day we were working. Sometimes it was 
several times a day. He liked to have both of us lie on the bed with our arms 
folded under our heads and our legs spread apart. Then he went from one to 
the other, working us up until we were about out of our minds with 
sensations. He may have been fat and ugly, but when you closed your eyes 
he was the best cock sucker I ever knew. The only problem was that he was 
too slow. He could always tell just when you were ready to cream and he 
stopped just before you did. He'd get me just ready to go over the top and 
then go over to Larry. My throbbing pecker would be standing straight up in 
the cold air screaming for relief. He'd come back to it after he had Larry's 
pistol ready to shoot. Then his stiff dick would be waving in the breeze 
while Mr. Reed gobbled my joint. 


When one of us creamed, he'd go to work full time on the other. If he was 
ready, one of us shooting in his mouth would produce the same thing in 
him. He didn't even have to be touched. In fact he usually didn't even get 
stiff just before he spent. We always tried to hold back so he'd get real hot 
and come the same time we did. If he didn't make it when sucking us off, 
we had to turn over and he'd feel our bottoms to get himself ready. He'd 
slobber over our rears with his mouth and tongue and then insert a finger up 
both our assholes at the same time. That got him hot in a hurry and he 
popped his cork after frigging our assholes for a few minutes. Although he 
was crazy about our bottoms, he never tried or even asked to cornhole us. 
He was so tiny and his belly so big I don't think he could have even if he 
tried. 


Mr. Reed had lots of peculiar little things that he did. For one thing he 
was always eating. I guess that's why he was so fat. What made it strange 
was the way he ate. He used Larry and me as a plate. He ate right off the 
dishes without bothering with a fork or spoon when we were the dishes. His 
favorite food was ice cream. He liked to have one of us stretch out bare- 
assed on the table to serve as the plate. Then he'd spoon the ice cream out 
on our tummies or backsides, depending on which end he wanted up, and 
start eating. That cold stuff on your bare belly was really freezing. He flip 
our pricks up into the stuff and start chowing down. He called us his banana 
split, complete with banana, nuts, and cherry. The cherry was the ruby head 
of our pricks. We'd lost the other long ago. 


Sometimes he used one of us as the dish and the other as the spoon. Ice 
cream melts pretty fast on someone's bare belly. When it got soft he'd use 
the other guy's stiff prick to scoop it up and pop it into his mouth. He 
usually wound up with some boy-cream along with the ice cream. 


As much as he liked to watch us eat in the nude, we often ate out. Mr. 
Reed also enjoyed dressing us in the latest styles and taking us to fancy 
restaurants where he could show us off. Larry and I were both handsome 
enough to get many an admiring look. When we were dressed in expensive 
new clothes, we really made the heads turn. Mr. Reed always referred to us 
as his boys. I suppose most people thought we were his sons. We often went 
to a movie or play after dinner. Sometimes he just wanted to walk down the 


street with us. He was really proud of us. It made him happy to put us on 
display just like a farmer takes pride in showing his prize animals at a fair. 


Mr. Reed was good to us. His demands weren't too bad and he never 
insisted on anything we objected to. He was always buying us clothes and 
other things. He liked to adorn us with rings, cuff links, and other jewellery. 
Our wardrobes swelled to the point where we could easily have competed 
for the best-dressed young man award. It was a good life and Larry and I 
found our relationship growing even stronger. We'd sometimes take off 
several days with his permission and spend them together like a couple of 
lovers. Both of us grew fond of Mr. Reed. We never felt any sexual 
attraction for him. His body was fat and somewhat repulsive but he was 
basically a good person and we liked him. 


Mr. Reed was a paradox in many ways. As long as he knew anyone was 
watching, he always appeared happy and jolly. Once in a while we'd catch 
him unaware. Then he seemed depressed. He always perked up as soon as 
he was aware we were watching but we knew something was wrong. His 
joking and laughing manner were just a facade. He too was trying to cover 
up. He was unhappy about what he was. Of course he couldn't have been 
happy about his appearance but that wasn't what really bothered him. He 
was more concerned about his homosexuality. Seeing him like that started 
me worrying. What would happen when I grew old? I didn't have a lot of 
money to fall back on. I couldn't even make an honest living now. 


In a few years I'd be too old for hustling. Then what would I do? 


Our dream world with Mr. Reed shattered one morning when he woke up 
unable to breathe. We called an ambulance and they rushed him to a 
hospital. He had suffered a severe heart attack and the doctor didn't know if 
he'd pull through. Even if he did, we'd have to go. Anything that might 
excite him could mean the end. We said good-bye to him in his hospital 
room a few days later when he was a little better. We left him in the hands 
of his faithful servant. Larry and I never went back because we were afraid 
seeing us might upset him. We were back on the street again. 


CHAPTER NINE 


Doctors, Lawyers, and Indian Chiefs 


My customers came from about every walk of life. How does the rhyme 
go—something about doctors, lawyers, and Indian chiefs? I've had them all. 
Most of the time I never knew what the John did for a living. Usually I 
didn't even know his name. At other times the guy seemed more interested 
in talking than sucking me off. Sometimes a John just about talked my ear 
off. I guess they were lonesome and it made them feel better to talk over 
their problems with someone, even if that someone was a stud hustler. As 
long as they were willing to pay for my time, I was willing to listen. Once 
in a while a guy just talked and never got around to sex at all. Most of them 
weren't like that. If they talked at all, it was just enough to tell me what they 
wanted. I always got away from the talkers as soon as possible. I had 
enough problems of my own without listening to anyone else's. 


It would be impossible to describe all my customers. If I saw some of 
them on the street I wouldn't even recognize them. In some cases I never 
saw their faces. There are men who've sucked my cock in dark alleys or 
theaters who were just hazy shapes. I've had men shove a bill at me through 
a glory hole in a public toilet. I shoved my cock through the hole someone 
bored between the stalls and held it there until the man drained me. I never 
even got a glimpse of the man in the next booth. He was usually gone 
before I came out. 


Since I can't describe all of the Johns to you, let me mention a few. I 
already mentioned doctors, lawyers, and Indian chiefs so why don't I tell 
you about them. I may have had more than one doctor but the only one I 
was sure of was a young intern who used to pick me up once in a while 
when he got off duty. He was all tensed up and said I helped him relax. All 
he ever did was suck my cock. There was nothing special about him but I 
had another client who liked to pretend he was a doctor and he was a real 
oddball. He had always wanted to be a doctor but his father forced him into 
the family business. The guy had a real interest in medicine but his main 
reason for wanting to enter the profession was the chance to observe and 


handle nude males. He kept thinking about how great it would be until he 
couldn't stand it anymore. Several years before he met me he started hiring 
stud hustlers to serve as his patients. 


This man met me at the door of his apartment dressed in a white coat like 
a regular doctor might wear. I was supposed to go along with the game. The 
procedure was always the same. We were not a hustler and his John. 
Instead, he was now a doctor and I was a patient coming in for a checkup. I 
wasn't supposed to say or do anything that would destroy that atmosphere. 


The man led me into the next room which was equipped like an 
examining room of a real doctor's office. He must have paid a small fortune 
for all the medical instruments. I was a little apprehensive at first when I 
saw all the sharp instruments in the glass case. If he turned out to be a 
sadist, he could really cut a guy up with those things. Fortunately he wasn't 
that type. He sat down behind the desk and got my name and age. He even 
asked me some questions about my medical history. Finally he was ready 
for the physical examination. 


The make-believe doctor asked me to undress behind a screen in one 
comer of the room. I stripped and emerged entirely naked. The man looked 
me over carefully and smiled. His eyes widened as they traveled down my 
body and came to rest on my cock. I thought he was going to drop the 
whole game and take me right there. Instead his smile faded and he adopted 
the professional attitude again. He measured my height and weight, then 
motioned me onto the examining table. I laid down on my back and he 
began going over the front half of my hot little body. My cock sure got an 
inspection. He took my soft tool gently in his hand and turned it around 
while he looked it over carefully. He ran his thumb over the glans and 
nodded when I shivered. Then he parted the little pink lips around the tiny 
hole and peered inside. The guy put a drop of lubricant on the tip, pulled the 
skin down tight around the base, and massaged the stuff up and down the 
shaft and over the tip. It didn't take me long to get a good hard on. The guy 
took out a tape measure and carefully measured the length of my hard dick. 
He nodded his approval again. He used calipers to measure the 
circumference of my prick and the size of my balls. He even wrote 
everything down on a chart. 


Next came the examination for hernia. He had me stand while he 
palpitated my balls again. He had already done enough of that while I was 
lying down but he wanted to see if there was any difference with me 
standing. Each nut got pushed back up into my belly several times while he 
felt around. Once he got both balls shoved up me and pushed my stiff prick 
down between my legs and held them in place that way. He squeezed my 
balls where they were bulging out of my abdomen. That hurt. He finally let 
them out and went back to shoving them up my belly one at a time. It was a 
painful four or five minutes. 


The phony doctor collected a urine sample right after the hernia exam. 
Instead of sending me off to take a leak in private, he had me piss into a 
dish while he watched. He was very helpful. He not only held the jar for me 
to piss in, he also held my cock. I usually started out with an erection and 
had to wait for it to go down before I could pee. He didn't help any by the 
way he held my prick. After a while I'd start to piss and he'd direct the 
stream of warm, yellow water into the container. Sometimes he'd stop the 
flow by squeezing my cock. That didn't feel very good either. His 
examination of the urine specimen consisted of holding the glass bottle up 
to the light to judge its color. 


I couldn't always piss just when he wanted, but he had a way of taking 
care of that. I'll never forget the day I found out how. It happen on my 
second visit. I was lying on the examining table when he came toward me 
with the urine-collecting jar. I started to get up but he pushed me back down 
and told me it wasn't necessary. I thought he was going to have me turn on 
my side. He had another idea. He had a good knowledge of medicine and 
wanted to try something called catheterization on me. I'd heard about that 
sort of thing being done when someone couldn't urinate but I didn't know 
just what happened. I found out first hand that day. 


The phony doctor set the container down between my spread legs as I 
laid bare-assed on the examining table. He produced a long plastic tube and 
rubber gloves. He told me not to worry; they were sterile. I didn't know it 
then, but you can get a bladder infection if the tube isn't free from germs. 
He put some antiseptic on the tip of my penis, lubricated the tube, and 
slowly pushed it up my prick until water started to come out the tube. If 
you've never had something pushed up your cock it's hard to imagine how 


something could hurt like that. He was careful so it wasn't too bad but I 
wouldn't want to have that done to me every day. 


After he collected the urine, I had to get back on the table on my belly 
while he finished the exam. He examined my back rapidly but slowed down 
when he got to my ass. He started out with me lying flat on the table while 
he massaged my bottom and pried my buttocks apart. When he got tired of 
rubbing my butt, he had me get into a knee-chest position with my ass 
jutting back over the edge of the table. He put on a pair of rubber gloves 
again, greased up my asshole, and inserted his finger. He shoved his finger 
up and down in my ass and felt around for several minutes. That never felt 
good but I really hated it when he started twisting that stiff digit. 


Then came the real long part of the rectal exam. The make-believe doctor 
would get out a set of test tubes that ranged in size from very small to very 
big. He started out with the smallest one and gradually inserted it up my 
ass. Then he took out a pencil flashlight and looked up the tube. He didn't 
spend too long looking with the small tubes but when they got bigger and 
bigger, he took longer and longer. He liked to move them back and forth 
while he studied the changes they produced in my tight asshole. These tubes 
were really quite large when he got to the last ones and they really stretched 
my bottom hole. That didn't feel so hot but what worried me was wondering 
if the glass would break. I was sure glad when he took the last one out. 


He finished up the examination by re-checking my sex organs. He 
produced a device I had never seen before. It was an artificial bovine 
vagina. The thing was supposed to be used to collect semen from bulls for 
artificial breeding of cattle. He used it to collect mine. The device was 
pretty elaborate to begin with and the make-believe doctor had added some 
refinements of his own. The diameter of the tube could be adjusted, the 
temperature increased to as warm as you could take it, and a vibrator could 
be controlled to go from slow to fast. 


He fastened the apparatus to the table, greased up the tube, and had me 
get on the table and fuck the damn thing. He helped me insert my meat into 
the tube and then pumped the thing up so it really grabbed my cock. He had 
the temperature so high I was afraid my cock would come out cooked. He 
watched my screwing movements for about a minute and then turned on the 
vibrator. He pumped a little more air into the device to tighten the tube on 


my stiff prick. I couldn't shove it back and forth anymore or even pull it out. 
It didn't matter because I didn't have to move. The vibrator took care of that. 
The damn thing was jerking my prick so fast I thought I'd go out of my 
mind. The phony doctor jabbed a couple of fingers up my asshole and held 
me tight against the machine. I started coming in spurt after spurt. The 
vibrator was really doing its work. I thought I'd go right out of my skull. 
My prick felt like it was in a washing machine. I kept yelling for him to turn 
it off and let me get my meat out of what seemed like a meat grinder. He 
just ignored my screams and held me up against the thing until I'd finished 
creaming. It was wild but the sensations were too intense to be called 
pleasant. My poor cock was all red and covered with a frothy foam where 
the vibrator had churned up the lubricant and my creamy come. 


As soon as that was finished the doctor said my exam was over and 
wanted me to leave right away. He'd arranged another appointment in two 
weeks and we'd do the same things. He was always in a hurry to get rid of 
me after I fucked the phony cow. I don't know what he did after I left, but 
one of the other stud hustlers who also worked as one of his patients told 
me he left something in the inner office once and when he went back to get 
it he saw the doctor up on the table screwing the thing himself. He said he 
was pumping away right in the mess the guy had made earlier. 


The phony doctor's ideas were a little crazy but he was harmless and paid 
well. The lawyer liked to play a game that was just as crazy. I probably 
shouldn't say that because there are lots of guys like this lawyer. His 
particular fetish is well-known and most people aren't too concerned about 
it. He was a transvestite. That alone wasn't too bad but he had some real 
way-out ideas about how he wanted me to have sex with him that upset me. 
I had always stayed away from this type of queer. If a guy wanted to look 
like a woman, I didn't want to have anything to do with him. I guess we 
who are homosexuals can't help ourselves from being hung up on the other 
males, but we don't have to start dressing and acting like women. That kind 
of stuff makes me sick. Men should look like men even if they are queer. 


I wouldn't have accepted a date with this man if I had know what he was 
like. When I made the appointment to visit his apartment, I had no idea he 
liked to dress like a woman. He was in his thirties, about five feet seven or 
eight, and quite slim. When he was dressed in a business suit he looked like 


most other men. Maybe he appeared a little effeminate but no more than a 
lot of straight men. 


I knocked at his apartment at the appointed time and the door was opened 
by an attractive young lady. "I'd like to see Mr. Gordon," I stammered. I was 
a little embarrassed to find a woman there and didn't know quite what to 
Say. 


"My dear boy, I am Mr. Gordon," she laughed. Or rather he laughed. The 
beautiful woman who answered the door was really the lawyer. I recognized 
the voice but it was higher and obviously put on. It took me several minutes 
before I could tell from looking at her or him that it really was Mr. Gordon. 
He wore a wig, heavy makeup, and a stunning off-the- shoulders dress. I 
had only given him a casual glance when he opened the door but he easily 
fooled me. He had his chest taped so he even had cleavage under the 
padded bra. I think he could have fooled anybody if he didn't talk. 


"Come in. Come in," he said in the false high voice and went swishing 
into the living room. I didn't know whether to follow or turn around and 
leave. People like that made me nervous. I figured as long as I was there, I 
might as well earn my money before taking off. 


He served me tea and cookies and made a complete fool of himself. He 
tried to act like a very feminine woman and ended up acting like a jackass. 
Every move was overdone. 


I tried to hurry him up and we finally got down to business. I had been 
hoping that he'd just wanted to give me a quick blow job but he wanted me 
to rape him. I was supposed to chase him around the room, grab him and rip 
off his nylon panties, and fuck him up the ass. He wanted me to do that 
while he was lying on his back with his dress pushed up over his head. I 
wasn't supposed to remove any of his clothing except the panties. 


I chased him around the room while he screamed that he was being 
raped. I finally caught him, threw him down on the bed, and ripped off his 
undies. Then I couldn't do anything. For the first time in my life I couldn't 
get a hard on. He was lying on the bed and screaming he was being raped 
all the time and that made matters worse. I expected someone would come 
barging in to help what sounded like a woman being attacked. I finally 
slapped him across the face and he quieted down. He even liked that. I felt 


sick to my stomach. I just couldn't try any more. I pulled my pants back on 
and got out of there like a bat out of hell. He kept calling for me to come 
back and try again but once was enough. I can still hear him screaming 
rape! 


There isn't much to tell about the Indian chief. As a matter of fact, he 
wasn't even a chief but he was a full-blooded Indian. He was visiting the 
city for some kind of convention. If he hadn't been an Indian, I probably 
wouldn't have even remembered him. As it is, I don't even remember what 
we did. I think he did a blow job on me, but I'm not positive. Oh, well. He 
was just another trick. 


CHAPTER TEN 
More Kooks and Oddballs 


Everyone gets his kicks in a different way. I usually stayed away from the 
guys with the far-out ideas but once in a while I took one on for the extra 
money. It's a good thing that the guys with the real way-out ideas have a lot 
of money to pay for their desires. I often wondered whether they're like that 
because they're rich or whether because they're rich they can be that way. A 
poor man can't afford to make his fantasies come true. These rich guys can 
spend money by the carload to make them realities. I guess there isn't any 
difference between a rich or poor homosexual except that the rich queer can 
buy what he wants while the poor one can only wish. 


Some of the people I've met in this business have some real crazy ideas. 
It would take another book to tell about all the odd requests I've had. I'll just 
mention a few to give you an idea what a guy in this business has to go 
through to earn a dollar. Most of the Johns want to go down on the hustler. 
Usually they swallow the boy's come and a few do it a little different. 
There's the group we call the candy makers. 


The candy makers swallow the sperm but they don't do it while sucking 
the guy off. If they do suck him, they stop before the hustler shoots and 
finish up jacking him off. They don't hold his prick in their mouth but kneel 
down in front of him with their mouths open and catch the guy's come as it 
spurts out. That gives them their kicks. I guess they do it that way so they 
can see the cream come shooting out. These guys seem to really love the 
taste of the stuff. 


Candy making isn't too common but I've had enough customers do it to 
know it's not something only one or two guys have thought up. One old guy 
I knew used to hire all the boys he could to come to his apartment at the 
same time. There would usually be a couple of stud hustlers, several high 
school kids, and some boys that must have been in junior high. He had us 
all strip bare-ass and gather around him in a circle. Then he got on his knees 
and crawled around from one to another, sucking each guy for a little while 
to get him ready, and then jacked him off. He always caught the kid's come 


in his mouth and gobbled it down like a youngster would candy. It was 
pretty wild watching a dozen or so good-looking guys standing around 
bare-assed with their stiff cocks bobbing in the air while the guy crawled 
around jerking them off. Most of the kids weren't professionals but they 
sure were horny. He could usually go around the circle several times before 
the kids stopped producing his favorite brand of candy. 


There seems to be a whole group of queers who are classified as S and 
M. The letters stand for sadism and masochism. The hustlers that specialize 
in this usually dress in leather and act real tough. The masochists pay these 
queers to beat them with a paddle or strap. Some even want to get whipped 
with a real whip or cat-o'-nine-tails that tears the skin and makes them 
bleed. The sadists like to do the same thing to the hustler. 


I never accepted a job with a masochist although I had a number of 
offers. I could never bring myself to actually beat someone else. I watched 
two guys getting beaten once and knew from the way they acted that they 
got a kick out of it even though it must have hurt like hell. Two men and 
another hustler stopped me on the street one night and wanted me to go 
with them so each would have a boy. I found out when we got to their place 
that the men liked to be beaten. I told them I didn't do that kind of work and 
started to leave. They told me I didn't have to beat them if I didn't want to as 
long as I stayed around for sex afterwards. Having me watch them get it 
added to their excitement. 


One of the men undressed and the other tied him down over the back of a 
large chair in the living room. He produced a cane like they used in the 
English schools and the other hustler went to work. He really produced 
some welts on the queer's backside before he quit. It really excited him and 
the guy's cock was so hard I thought he was going to break it off jabbing it 
against the chair. The other John took his place and the hustler beat the hell 
out of his ass too. I wasn't excited by what I saw but I was a little curious 
about how they did it. Both guys had roaring hard ons by this time and 
practically tore our pants off getting at our joy sticks. 


I've been on the receiving end of this type of action a few times. Some of 
the Johns that picked me up were so anxious to spank a boy that they 
offered me more money than I could turn down. When you're broke, you'll 
do almost anything. 


I've got the kind of body that really appeals to the spankers. Even now I 
look like a teenager and when I first started working the streets of the big 
city, I could have passed for fifteen. My body was nice and trim and almost 
completely hairless except for a dark patch over my prick and under each 
arm. I wore my hair in a little boy butch style. I looked like a young kid 
who might get into mischief and that made the whole thing seem a lot more 
real to the guy. Another thing I did was to keep a good tan all year. I used a 
sun lamp in winter but always wore a swim suit so I didn't get an all-over 
tan. The contrast between my firm white buttocks and the rest of my hard 
brown body really turned these guys on when they turned me over their 
knees. 


I never accepted a date with anyone who wanted to tie me up or use 
anything that might really injure me. The hard-core sadists had to find 
another baby. 


The guys that hired me fell into two groups. One liked to feel my bottom 
more than spank it. They'd usually whack me a couple of times on the bare 
butt with their bare hand and then run their hands over my ass. Then they'd 
smack me a few more times and feel some more. After a little while they 
wanted me to turn over while they blew me. They usually felt my warm 
cheeks while sucking me off. They were the good guys. 


The bad guys usually paid more but you really earned your money with 
them. They really whacked your rear. They seldom used their hands 
because they enjoyed making your ass sting. They had to use a paddle or 
strap. I guess the strap was the favorite but some like the paddle because of 
the sound. I don't know why that should have made a difference but then I 
could never figure out why they got such a kick out of beating a guy's ass 
either. 


One of the Johns that picked me up several times was a principal in a 
junior high school. He later quit that job and took another in public relations 
because the school job frustrated him so much. He couldn't stand the kids. 
Part of his job was to deal with the kids who caused the real trouble in the 
school. I guess they really bugged him. He wasn't permitted to administer 
corporal punishment but he sure wanted to. Whenever one of them gave 
him a really hard time, he used to call me up and ask me to come over to his 
place. If I had nothing else lined up and needed the money, I'd go. 


It was like something out of the Marquis de Sade. As a matter of fact, it 
was something out of one of de Sade's novels. We re-enacted the part in 
Justine when Rodin punished one of his young male pupils. The principal 
always called me by a different name each time. I guess he used the name 
of the student who was bugging him. He took me into the bedroom and had 
me strip. Then he sat down on a low hassock and had me stand in front of 
him and straddle his legs. He proceeded to call me all the filthy names he 
could think of while playing with my cock all the time. He kept 
manipulating me, cursing, and licking my belly with his tongue until I had a 
hard on. Then he began yelling at me for getting stiff. It was all just a game. 
He was tickled pink to have my stiff dick poking him in the face. After a 
while he began sucking me furiously until I shot my wad down his throat. 
He held my cock head in his mouth and kept jerking on the shaft until I was 
through creaming. As soon as I finished spending, he jumped up, screamed 
at me for coming, and had me bend over and grab the edge of a table. 


Instead of strapping me right away, he knelt behind me and started 
licking my ass. He pulled my cheeks apart and stuck his tongue right up 
into the hole. He licked and sucked on my asshole for five or six minutes. 
Without any warning he suddenly jumped up, grabbed a thick leather strap, 
and went to work on my bottom. He whacked me for a good five or six 
minutes and then let me dress and leave. He just pretended that he was 
punishing the kid that gave him a hard time at school. I just took the kid's 
place when I got my ass strapped. 


Every hustler tries to dream up something that will make his customers 
come back again. Most of the Johns are one-timers and it's hard to keep 
looking for new clients all the time. Most of them aren't interested in a 
hustler after they've had him once. They think they have to have fresh meat 
to get their kicks. The guys that take you to their apartments or homes 
usually like to take things a little slower and may make a second date if you 
show them a good time. These guys have more money to spend so you size 
up the customer and practice all the little tricks on the ones you think might 
make a second date. 


One of the things I always did with these men was to strip completely 
bare-assed. Some hustlers just open their pants but that's not the way to get 
asked for a rerun. I'm well-built and I let them get a good look at my body. I 


always find some excuse to bend over with my back to them. I'd bend over 
to pick up my clothes which I purposely threw on the floor. I kept my legs 
spread and took my time. The guy standing behind me could see my cock 
and balls hanging down in front and my asshole on display behind. When I 
got on the bed I moved around and spread my legs so they could see 
everything. I also pretended that they really turned me on with their cock 
sucking. 


I discovered something else quite by accident once and I always used it 
when I could. 


I had to take a piss real bad once when I got to this John's place. He came 
right in the bathroom with me to watch. The fucker really got a kick out of 
watching the stream shooting out of my cock. From then on I saved my piss 
until I got to the score's place. I'd wait until I was bare-assed and then ask 
him to show me to the bathroom so I could take a leak. They could have 
just pointed to the door but nearly all the men preferred to show me. Some 
of them even held my prick so they could aim the stream. 


Pissing fascinates most queers. In most cases it's because it's done by the 
penis. A lot of queers have been sneaking peeks at guy's pissing in 
restrooms all their lives. I gave them a chance to stare at the whole process 
from beginning to end and to even shake it dry when I was finishing. Other 
guys aren't just interested in what the penis is doing. They like the water 
itself. We usually call them piss queens or golden shower queens. Some like 
to have guys piss all over them. I've had some hold it in their mouths while 
I let them have the piss right down their throats. 


I could never see tasting the stuff but I've tried peeing up another guy's 
behind and it's kind of wild. I had never even heard about that sort of thing 
until one of the scores I was with a few months after I started hustling in the 
city asked me to cornhole him and piss up his ass. It wasn't easy. First, you 
have to get a good hard on to work it up a guy's rear. Then you have to let it 
get soft so you're able to piss. Once you're hot and buried up to your balls in 
some guy's ass, the last thing you feel like doing is keeping still and letting 
your prick get soft. It seemed to take hours the first time. I was anxious to 
see how it felt to have someone make his water in my rear but I never got 
around to trying it until I met Larry. Let me tell you that it's a whole new 
kind of kick. The warm piss comes out with a lot of force and you can 


really feel it filling up your belly. It's a feeling you can't get any other way 
but it's something you don't care for too often. It's kind of messy and you 
have to call off your lovemaking for a while for a quick trip to the 
bathroom. What a wild enema! 


Some of the Johns are really gone on some type of clothing. A few seem 
even more interested in seeing a guy dressed in some special item than they 
are in seeing him bare-assed. Some are crazy about leather. Others lean to 
rubber. Some dig a guy dressed in jeans. Still others like them in some kind 
of uniform. I had one man who liked to have me dress up in a sailor's 
uniform and walk around the streets with him. We never had sex. We just 
walked around. Other men like to see boys dressed in jockstraps. Some go 
for bikinis. A number of men really flip over the new mod outfits the kids 
are wearing now. I guess they represent youth and that really appeals to 
these old geezers. Of course there are some that want the hustler to dress up 
in women's clothing. I don't mind wearing the other crap they want, but 
dressing like a girl makes me sick. If they want someone dressed up like a 
fucking girl, let them go out and get a real one. 


There are men who like an audience when they're having sex. There are 
others who like to watch. Still others like to combine both in a regular orgy. 
I suppose almost everyone has a secret wish to take part in an orgy 
sometime, or at least to see one in progress. I guess there really isn't 
anything wrong with a bunch of people having a fuck session all together 
but it isn't something that anyone should keep fooling with. It's like drugs. 
You can get hooked on the thing and you spend all the time looking for 
bigger and bigger thrills. Instead, you find that all that sex doesn't make you 
feel satisfied. You usually wind up feeling disgusted with yourself the next 
day. 


I've been to several orgies and I have to admit it was pretty wild with 
everything going on around you. Most of these affairs don't need any 
professionals to supply the sex. Everything is going on at these parties and a 
person can usually find someone there who likes the same things he does. 
Then they go right ahead and do them. Sometimes a group of older 
homosexuals will hire a bunch of young guys for their parties. These rich 
old guys can afford to lay out a bundle to hire boys to do just about 


anything they want. To give you some idea about what goes on at one of 
these things, I'll describe one of the orgies I attended as a stud hustler. 


The affair was sponsored by a rich manufacturer in his early sixties. He 
had a luxury penthouse in the city. He used to invite three of his friends 
over every few weeks for a little party. The men were all well-off 
homosexuals about his age. None of them was very attractive and I guess 
they wouldn't have had much fun sucking each other. Besides being old, 
they weren't in very good shape. They didn't have much to work with to 
start and what little they had, they'd let go to pot. No one was as fat as Mr. 
Reed, but each of them could have stood to get rid of about fifty pounds. I 
suppose they couldn't find any young queers who would be willing to have 
sex with them. If they wanted any young guys to mix it up with them, 
they'd have to pay them. 


This man usually hired six boys to participate in these orgies. The men 
liked them young. Most of them were high school kids who were willing to 
do this sort of thing for spending money. Some were in junior high. I know 
how rough it is when you're in school and don't have money for any of the 
things the rest of the gang has. The kids came from the slums. They were a 
tough bunch. I didn't like them and I guess I thought I was better than they 
were. Maybe I wasn't as rough acting as these kids but I was doing the same 
thing so I don't know why I should have felt that way. I guess it was 
because they took that "I don't give a damn" attitude while I was concerned 
about what I was doing. I know they had feelings too, but they didn't show 
any. I guess they were just covering up. They'd had such miserable lives 
that they'd learned to hide their real feelings. 


The first party this man gave that I attended had four high school boys 
and another hustler working it. The man met with us the day before and 
explained what he wanted. Two of the boys were to act as servants during 
the dinner and the rest of us were supposed to put on a show afterwards. 
The two boys met the guests and showed them into the living room. After 
they had all arrived, the boys served drinks. They changed before bringing 
them in. The boys had been wearing ordinary clothes but served the drinks 
wearing only jeans. The men really dug white Levi's and the barefoot boys 
in the tight jeans really turned them on. Some of the men ran their hands 


over the boys' naked chests but no other contact took place then. They were 
content to just look and talk to the boys while they sipped their drinks. 


The men went into the dining room and the boys served the meal. Each 
course was accompanied by a change in costume. The fruit cup was served 
with the boys dressed in shorts. They were thin and clung to their baskets 
and backsides like a second skin but they didn't show anything you couldn't 
see at the beach. The boys changed in the kitchen and the cook got a kick 
out of watching them. He told us he wasn't queer but the way he stared told 
us otherwise. Anyway, he didn't take part in the orgy so it didn't matter. The 
boys changed to bikinis to serve the soup. They were nearly transparent and 
you wouldn't see anything like that on the beach. The main course was 
served by the boys in jockstraps. For obvious reasons, the men kept ringing 
for them all during the meal and the boys spent most of the time in the 
dining room passing dishes and getting them things. The boys switched to 
posing pouches to serve the dessert. They were gone a long time. 


After the meal the men had drinks in the living room. It wasn't hard for 
the boys to dress for that. They were wearing something though—each boy 
had on a pair of leather boots. When the boys returned they were both 
sporting roaring hard ons. They never said what happened but it wasn't hard 
to imagine. I'd been around enough queers to know they can't keep their 
hands off you once you have your pants off. When the boys came back to 
the kitchen, I could see from the red spots that they had been pinched a few 
times on the ass. One of the boys growled, "If those bastards are going to 
get you all worked up, the least they could do is suck you off!" 


His cock was nearly bursting. But the kid didn't have to worry. That 
would be taken care of later. Now it was our turn. We were supposed to put 
on a show for the men. The host had the room fixed up something like a 
small theater. There wasn't any stage but he had a series of spotlights set up 
so he could control them from switches by his seat. The men sat in four 
large, comfortable chairs facing one side of the room. Their host turned on 
one of the spotlights, dimmed the room lights, and the two nude boys who 
had acted as waiters entered. The first boy stepped into the spotlight and 
stood there bare-assed with his big hard on pointing to the audience while 
the man varied the colors playing on his body. He turned around a few 
times and then walked slowly to one side of the room and stood there while 


the other boy stepped into the light. He paused for a moment too while the 
lights changed and then moved to the other side of the room. 


Now the real show was ready to begin. The other two high school kids 
led off. One of them entered and stepped into the spotlight. He was fully 
dressed and stood in the light for a short time while the men looked at him. 
This was the first time they had seen him and he was supposed to give them 
a chance to study his face and guess at how the rest of him would look. I 
might add that the man selected those he felt most handsome to appear last. 
The boy was better-looking than the two who served as waiters. The men 
began to get excited at the prospect of seeing him nude. The host changed 
the color of the light and the boy started undressing. He stripped slowly and 
deliberately, taking off each item and tossing it into a corner of the room. 
The boy paused slightly when he got down to his shorts, then slipped them 
down and flung them aside. He stood buck naked in the spotlight. His long, 
thick cock was spotlighted in bright red and beginning to grow. He turned 
around a couple of times and took various poses while the host changed the 
lights playing on his firm, young body. Finally the boy turned and faced the 
men. He slowly lowered his hands and began playing with his prick. The 
long cock lengthened even more and his hand began a rapid jerking action. 
The kid let it go when it was fully erect and the stiff poker swayed in the 
colored light. He started jacking it again and it was apparent he was about 
to come. One of the boys who served as a waiter spread a towel before the 
masturbating youth. The colors changed rapidly and the boy's hand 
continued to jerk on his stiff cock. Suddenly he gave a little cry and his 
cream shot out in a high arc and spattered onto the towel. The lights 
dimmed and the other high school kid stood in his place when they came on 
brighter again. Except that it was a different boy, everything else was 
exactly the same. The towel soon was covered with another load of spunk. 


The other hustler and I came last. He was about my age, nineteen. The 
guy had a nice face and physique and a king-sized cock. We entered 
together and stepped into the spotlight. The men were already pretty 
worked up and were leaning forward when we entered. We stripped at the 
same time, each of us taking off the same item and tossing it aside at 
exactly the same moment. We were wearing jockstraps under our clothing 
and stopped when we got down to these. Then the host switched on several 
other spotlights and we began to wrestle playfully. We didn't try to pin each 


other. Our objective was to pull off the other's jock. The floor was covered 
by a thick, soft white rug so we had a comfortable area on which to wrestle. 
The colored lights, the memory of things we had seen just before, and the 
anticipation of what was to come, got us so excited that we were both fully 
erect when we lost our jocks. 


We continued wrestling bare-assed. The other hustler and I rubbed our 
bodies together and played with each other's stiff prick. We moved into a 
number of positions to show our cocks and assholes to the men and then 
settled into the famous sixty-nine. We ate each other furiously and then 
pretended to come. We went through all the motions and acted like we were 
swallowing the other's cream. 


That's something else you learn in this business. Always save yourself. 
Never climax unless you have to. It may mean money later on. You can't do 
anything if you can't get it up so you learn to save it for the paying 
customers and forget about getting your rocks off just for pleasure. Our host 
switched on several more lights and told the rest of the naked boys to join 
us on the floor. We laid down in a circle with our heads together. Six naked 
young studs, most of them with hard dicks, arranged in a circle. Our host 
called us a lazy Susan and invited the men to sample the goodies. "Enjoy 
the banquet," he said, motioning toward us. 


That was all the invitation the men needed. They quickly began tearing 
off their clothes and soon joined us on the floor. For the next hour or so we 
laid there while they slobbered over our bodies. Sometimes there would be 
two or three men fooling with you at once. They might pull a couple of the 
high school kids over to suck on you too. You might be sucking one of their 
young pricks while another was eating your cock, another guy your balls, 
and another your ass. One of the boys would turn over for a few bucks extra 
and three of the men took turns reaming out his ass. The fourth old guy 
couldn't get his stiff enough for that so he settled for sucking each of the 
other kids off while they fucked the other boy. 


After an hour or so the men started giving us drinks. They didn't let our 
glasses get empty. We were stoned in no time. I don't recall too much about 
the rest of the night. One of the guys wanted me to screw the high school 
kid but I was too drunk to function. The last I remembered was a couple of 


the high school kids laughing over me while one of the old guys told them 
what to do. 


I woke up the next morning beside one of the fat old men with a king- 
sized hangover. My head was killing me and I ached all over. I could hardly 
walk and the pain around my asshole told me someone had used my rear a 
couple of times during the night. I supposed it was the two high school kids 
but I'd been too drunk to know. The old guy probably had me too. The 
bastard. I made up my mind never to mix liquor and sex after that. I felt 
dirty and showered for a half-hour. It didn't help. It wasn't the kind of dirt 
that could be washed off. 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 
An Old Man at Twenty-One 


I'm now twenty-one. That's old for a hustler. There are too many high 
school kids practically giving it away today for anyone past twenty to make 
out unless he's willing to do anything. It doesn't matter. I quit hustling 
several months ago. I still look like a high school kid so that wasn't why I 
gave it up. In fact, I was making more money when I quit than I ever had 
before. I knew the routine and had built up some regular customers. I quit 
because I was sick of that way of life. Maybe I'm growing up. At any rate, I 
finally realized I had to get out of that racket. No matter how tough things 
might get, they couldn't cause me more unhappiness than living as a 
prostitute. 


Larry is still with me. Faithful Larry. Without him, I don't know how I 
could have lived through those years. He has always been a source of 
strength to me. Just when things looked worse, he'd find some way to cheer 
me up. I did the same for him. We've grown closer and closer over the 
years. I don't try to fight the fact that I'm a homosexual anymore. But sex 
with Larry isn't the same as sex with a customer. It's more like what I 
imagine takes place between a married couple. I always felt dirty after 
having a suck session with a John. I don't with Larry. Sex with him is 
something beautiful. It's just another way of expressing our love. This 
probably sounds silly to most straight readers, but that's the way we feel. 


Both Larry and I quit hustling at the same time. Neither of us was happy 
about letting strange men use our bodies. After a while you lose all self- 
respect. Life doesn't mean anything. There's nothing to live for. Before 
meeting Larry, I often had planned to end my life but never got up enough 
courage to do anything about it. The idea kept coming up even after I 
started living with Larry and we often talked over the possibility of 
committing suicide together. We just couldn't stand to think of the other one 
dying so we always talked each other out of it. 


Our decision to quit was almost forced on us. Larry made the mistake of 
picking up a sadist. The young punk lured him to an empty warehouse 


where three of his friends were waiting. They beat Larry something terrible 
and all of them fucked him in the ass. He was barely able to crawl home. 
He recovered without any scars but he was in bad shape for a few days. We 
had lots of time to talk during that period and decided to quit hustling. We 
were determined to find some type of honest work. Neither of us was 
anxious to get a job washing dishes for a living but we were willing to 
accept anything, even that. 


As it turned out, we didn't have to. We got jobs purely by accident. As I 
look back over my life, many of the good things that happened to me were 
purely accidental. I guess someone up there likes me in spite of all the 
things I've done. I wanted to cheer up Larry, so as soon as he was feeling 
better, I took him shopping. Both of us are crazy about clothes and spend a 
lot of money on them. We also had an impressive wardrobe left over from 
our stay with Mr. Reed. Larry and I dressed in our latest mod outfits and 
started making the rounds of the stores. While we were shopping in one 
store, we got to talking about fashions with the guy waiting on us. Because 
of our interest in the subject, both Larry and I knew a lot about styles and 
the owner of the shop was really impressed. The next thing we knew he was 
offering one of us a job handling the teenage line of clothes. He only had 
room for one of us but he knew another shop owner who was looking for 
someone to handle the mod fashions in his shop. The next day we were 
salesmen. Everything worked out surprisingly well. Larry and I dressed in 
the latest mod styles and hit it off with the teenagers right away. We talked 
their language, could give them advice on the styles, and helped sell clothes 
by our appearance alone. Lots of kids bought outfits like the ones we were 
wearing when they came into the shop. The sales at both places increased 
and we both got raises. Better than that, we were finally succeeding in 
something worthwhile. Selling clothes to teenagers may not be the greatest 
job on earth, but Larry and I love it. I can't begin to describe just how we 
feel. Just good, that's all. 


Some of the things we did in the past still hang over our heads. New York 
is a big city but we still run into some of our former customers. It's hard to 
explain to them that we're no longer hustlers. Then there's always the threat 
of blackmail. We don't have much money but we're afraid some men might 
put the make on us. We still have our sexy bodies. They could hurt us if 
they told our employers about our former lives. I don't have to worry about 


that but Larry isn't certain. I got to talking with my boss one night after 
closing the shop and spilled the whole sordid story of my life. He's straight 
but he seemed to understand. He said he didn't care what I had done in the 
past as long as I stayed off the street from then on. I guess he even felt a 
little sorry for me. Larry's boss doesn't know about his past but Larry thinks 
he'd understand too. 


We can't help thinking about the past, though. Once in a while one of us 
will dream about something that happened when we were on the street that 
will upset us so we can't go back to sleep. We're also bothered during the 
day when we aren't busy by remembering things. We can't stand being 
alone. It reminds us of the past. Being a hustler is the loneliest life there is. 
Even after we were together, it was horrible when Larry wasn't around. 
Sometimes he wouldn't come home when I expected him and I'd just about 
go out of my mind. Larry was the same way when I was late getting back. 
Even now I can't relax when Larry isn't around. It's all right when I'm busy 
working but when I get back to the apartment and Larry isn't there, I get 
nervous. It's stupid but I just can't help myself. I'm getting better but I don't 
think I'll ever get completely over the uneasy feeling I get when he's out of 
my sight. 


Our jobs pay us a fairly good salary and the commissions give us more 
money than we need. We're saving to buy a house in the suburbs. I send a 
part of my check home to help my mother with the younger kids. Now I can 
tell her the truth about the kind of work I do. Before I had to keep making 
up stories about different jobs I was supposed to have. It's a good feeling to 
be able to tell the truth. I had almost forgotten what it was like. I get a week 
off in a couple of months and I'm going back home for the vacation. It will 
be the first time I've been home in nearly three years. I just couldn't go back 
and face my mother before. I'm really looking forward to seeing her again. 


Larry and I still face a lot of problems. We're outcasts as far as society is 
concerned. Our love for each other is even considered a crime. It's funny 
but I don't feel like a criminal. People won't accept us for what we are. As 
long as we're young, nobody will talk. Lots of young guys share an 
apartment to save money. But when we start getting older the tongues will 
wag. As we get older our attractiveness will fade and I wonder if our love 
for each other will also. I really don't think so but I can't help but worry 


about it. Our love isn't just based on physical appeal. Larry has been faithful 
to me since we quit hustling and we've vowed never to touch another man. 
He teases me every once in a while about some cute kid who came into his 
shop but I know it's just a put-on. 


We don't have many friends but there are two homosexual couples that 
we visit occasionally. We never have sex with them. We get together every 
once in a while for a meal and maybe we'll go to a ball game or something. 
Often we just visit at each other's apartment and talk. It helps to have 
someone to share your problems and someone who accepts you for what 
you are. Friendship is important even if you are homo. 


As I look back over my life there are many things that I wish I could 
change. The only problem with life is that once something is done, you 
have to live with it. You have to make the most of each situation. That's 
where I went wrong. I took the easy way out for so many years. I wish I 
could start over from scratch. I can't. I know that and I accept it. Wishing 
things didn't happen won't make them any less real. These things have made 
me what I am today. I hope that some day others can understand and accept 
me for what I am. Maybe when they understand, they can also forgive. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


Bates, Norman, Male Wives, Barclay House, North Hollywood, 1969. 


Dodson, Victor, Pederasty: Sex Between Men And Boys, Barclay House, 
North Hollywood, 1968. 


Black and Gay, Barclay House, North Hollywood, 1969. 
Kaplan, George, Homo '69, Barclay House, North Hollywood, 1969. 
McGill, Henry, Mod Hustler, Barclay House, North Hollywood, 1969. 


REGENT HOUSE / Box 9506 / North Hollywood, Calif. 91609 
Please rush me THE ORALITY GIRLS. | enclose $1.95. | am over 21. 


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© 6080 . . . THREE LITTLE LESBIANS by Tony Trelos . . . Two little les- 
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O 6079 .. . MISTER SEX by H. R. Kaye . . . He has to pursue every pos- 
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C 6078... HOT STICK MAN by S. c. Carew. . . He was HOT — with the 
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C 6074 . . . ORGY GODDESS by Sy Bannion . . . She was worshipped by 
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C 6073... GAY JOHN by lohn . A “john” is one who must pay for his sex, 
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O 6072 . .. FLESH MERCHANTS by James Bryan . . . Fannon was trapped 
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C 6071 . . . DIRTY LITTLE DWARF by Sam Scar. . Circus dwarves are 
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O 6070 . . . THREE FACES OF RAPE by Robert Evelyn .. . A 15-year-old 
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C 6068 . . . STUD by Thomas Shire . . . Only a fellow who can satisfy a 
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6067 . . . MOTHER'S FRUIT by George Anthony. . Mother was a whore, 
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O 6063 . . . CAPTIVE MISTRESS by Mark Revel . . . She was the sexual 
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O 6062... THE LORD OF SHAME MANOR by J. Alexander Stewart. John be- 
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C 6061 . . . THE PASSIONATE CAPTIVE by Judson Vann .. . They had al- 
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O 0141 . . . THRILL CITY by Hank Stine . . . Rape and perversion are 
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O 0140 .. . DOWN HERE by Michael Perkins . . . How to get along in 
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O 7060° . . ORAL SEX AND THE TEENAGER by H. Hadley Williams . . . 
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[J 7059° . . THE FOURTH SEX: BISEXUAL by William G. Phillips . . . If 
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© 7058° . . . SEX CLUBS 70 by Ashton Dumont .. . Reports on the outlaw 
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O 7057° . . . FLIGHT SEX 70 by Diane R. as told to Carl Brandt... a 
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O 7056 .. . FO’C’SLE BOY by Carl Driver . . A mighty novel of men at 
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J 7055° . . SADISM '69 by Mitch Brenner . . Can pain really out-plea- 
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© 7046° . . . CAMPUS SEX 69 by Marion C. as told to Mark Rutland... 
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O 7053° . . . PEDOPHILIA 69 by Marney Adams. . Intimate case his- 
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O 7076... BOY ON THE BLOCK by Gene North . . . Auctioned off to the 
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phile fiction 


O 7051° .. . FEMALE SEXUAL PERVERSIONS by Marney Adams . Some 
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O 7050° . . . TEEN BESTIALITY by Sterling Harkins . . . When loneliness 
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O 7049° . . CLIMAX! by Aaron J. Abelard . . . An illuminating report on 
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CO 7070° . . . SECRETS OF HOMOSEXUAL LIFE by Paul Wilson... A study 
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C 7067° ... BLACK AND GAY by Victor Dodson . . . An in-depth exclusive 
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O 7045° .. . HIPPIE SEX 89 by Paula B. as told to Frederica Rice... A 
psycho-sex study of the weirder sex satisfactions sought by anti-estab- 
lishment youth. 


C 7044... SAVVY by Jack Benjamin ... Secrets of a teenage sex swinger. 
*Non-fiction 


$1.95 EACH -ANY FOUR FOR 87 


C 7043° . . . TRANSVESTITE 69 by Jack Benjamin . . . All about the dif- 
ferences between transvestites and homosexuals, as well as the similarities. 


© 7042° . . . INCEST 69 by Selwyn Connors . . A gathering of case his- 
tories on incest — with particular attention paid to the permitted act. 


oO 7054 . . THE HONEY HORN by John Maggie . . They nestled 
entwined, "savoring the afterglow of men's love. Homophile fiction. 


C 7040° .. . PART-TIME WIVES by Sean Ahearn . . . The rest of the time 
they're oralist, lesbian, autoerotic, sodomistic, orgiastic, bestial, or sadistic. 


7039 . . . THE AUTOEROTIC FEMALE by Sybil Walker . . . Here's a 
woman’s-eye view of the woman who lives alone. 


C) 7038° . . . AUTOEROTIC 69 by Andrew Penance . . . Masturbation is 
studied for its effects on adolescents and adults, 


© 7037° . . . THE DANGER LOVERS by A. J. Egansolt . . A psycho-sex 
study of the highly erotic response to sexual jeopardy. 


O 7036° . NYMPHO '69 by Raphael Mulligan Reports on five 
Spey interesting cases of nymphomania, with psycho-sex conclusions 
by the author. Photo-illustrated. 


CO 7035° . . . DEVIATE '69 by Sterling Harkins . . Studying the mod de- 
viates” — the most shamelessly erotic youths of our society. 


O 7034° .. . HOMO 69 by George Kaplan Ve eee Beals 
liferation. and expansion of homosexuality. photo · ll ustrated. 


o 7033* „ LESBIAN 69 by Robert F. Edwin . An attempt to discover 
what the “new lesbian” is after. Photo- ill ustrated. 
Non · fiction 


BRANDON HOUSE LIBRARY EDITION: 


AN SERICA N T ' NERO'S | 


IVA SINA ; MISTRESS | 
3U : 


f 
$ 


CO 6086 ... AN AMERICAN CASANOVA by Roland Everhard . . . He made 
the maid! And an usherette at the Roxy. He always wanted more. And 
got it! j 


O 6085... THE MEMOIRS OF MITZI, VOLUME ONE by M. Pelletils . 
The intimate and revealing confessions of a young girl devoted to the 
pursuit of pleasure — and the pleasures of the flesh. 


C 6084 . . . CLIT CLIQUE, translated by L. E. LaBan . . . There is a room 
in the back of everyone's mind where the secret pleasures of the heart 
take place. But when does it become real? 


C 6077 . . . THE STRANGE CULT by George Clement . . When wealthy 
young faties. become bored, they band together to share their secret 
erotic fan 


C 6066... THE PETALS OF PASSION, translated by Henrik van Breda 
Paradise is Irene's with her two lesbian lovers — until the tangled 
weeds of jealousy begin to choke off the love of the one man she wants. 


O 6065 BRUISE by John Cleve . . . How far can four beautiful people 
fall into totally immoral lust — when they're already at the bottom? 


6064 . . . MOUSSE by Helena Robinson . . . A passionate young girl be- 
comes involved with a handsome bunch of men. Also a monk and two 
Orientals. There’s more than just a delectable dessert cooking! 


C 6059 . . . MIDNIGHT INTIMACIES, Anonymous . . . Everyone wanted to 
make Mary. And Mary was willing. Even eager. 8 


C] 6058 .. . WIDE OPEN, Anonymous . . . The young whores of Paris were 
loose, desirable and carefree. And they were ready for anything. So were 
their customers. 


C 6057... NERO'S MISTRESS by John Cleve... In ancient Rome, Marcus 
Gravius discovers he’s a pawn in the emperor's mistress’ game of lust. 


$1.95 EACH -ANY FOUR FOR $7 


Slave 


Sudan 


C 6056 ... FLOSSIE IN BONDAGE by Florence H. . She would do any- 
thing to get it — trapped by her own wanton desires. 


© 6055 . . . SLAVE OF THE SUDAN by John Cleve . . Lady Elizabeth was 
1 5 re a slave of love. She turned out to be willing, abandoned 
and desirable 


O 6054 .. . MARIA, BOOK TWO, translated by L. E. LaBan . . . This is the 
volume in yon Maria succumbs. For the first part of her life story read 
e (6052). 


£ 6053 ... LOVE IT! by Jean Post... Jean was a fruit picker's daughter who 
got picked, went to jail, and learned a lot about pleasure and perversion. 


Ci 6052 .. . MARIA, BOOK ONE, translated by L. E. LaBan . . . The “most 
beautiful woman in Bangkok” explores the infinite varieties of sexual love. 


CI 6050. .. THE GREEN GIRLS by Jo Tyler . . . In a school for wayward 
girls, Adeline discovers pain can be pleasure. 


O 6048 ... FORBIDDEN PATHS by Monique Vitale . . . Two lusty wild 
stories about eager nymphomaniacs in one book: Forbidden Paths and 
Perverted Lady. 


B| 6047 . . . YOUNG FLESH, translated by Henrik van Breda. . Laura start- 
ed in the streets disguised as a match girl. But she was matchless in 
what she did, and worked her way to riches. 


© 6045 . .. MOTHER LODE by Mark Andrews .. Dick was a motherlover 
for sure. And his mother loved it! 


C 6044... ARABELLA’S SACRIFICE, translated by Franz Mecklenberg . . 
She sactificed honor and marital fidelity to avert a world crisis. Should 
she have enjoyed it? 

J 6043 . . . VULNERABLE by Michael Hunt . . At first, Michael was vul- 
nerable only to her girlfriends. Suddenly, every lustful man wanted to 
take a crack at “Mike” Hunt. 


@ CAMEO LIBRARY NOVELS 


8031 


O 8036 . . . A NYMPHET CONFESSES by William Danch . . She was a | 
child-woman with perverted desires. 


O 8035... PET by Jan Cheux . . . She thirsted for adventure and had to | 
make the interracial scene. | 


O 8034 . . . LAURA'S PRIVATE SEX SURVEY by Laura Smith . . . She made 
her own survey of sex and deviations. 


O 8033 . . . THE COXSWAIN by Robert H. Sheldon . . He believed in 
living up to his nickname! 


CO 8032... THE MOUTH MAN by Nord Southgate . . . The confessions of 
a compulsive cunnilinguist. 


O 8031 ... SEX UPROAR by William G. Phillips “It was a frustrating 
moment for Dr. re Randall. Duty “ated, as did the half-nude body of 
Linda Webster . 


C 8030 . . . YOUNG NYMPHO by Denise Hutton . . . “Denise raised her 
hands to her blouse . . . She hurried it from her shoulders. Her large 
breasts heaved . . .” 


C 8029... STUD PROF by Ira Henning . . . The professor was tempted 
in many ways. He gave in to all of them. 


C 8028 . . . GIRL GONE DOWN by William G. Phillips . . . The surf se- 
duced her. She ended up hooked on sexual deviations. 


E 8027 . . . DIVER GIRL by Marilyn Horn . . . Rumba got religion and 
sought salvation on her knees. But the revival trail was not for her! 


C 8026 . . . SEX CYCLE GANG by Rod Hibbs . n 
rape, and brutality among the high school ‘girls. 


| a 


| Bitter 
Honey 


AA | [mra 


© 8025 ... BITTER HONEY by Jan Cheux .. is taste for straight sex 
went sour. So he turned abnormal. 


g 8024 . . . SEX PICNIC by Robert H. Sheldon . . . Charlie Marshall loved 
te thrill ‘of the chase; so he chased after everything in skirts. 

O 8023 . . . PLEASURE CAMPUS by Vince Murdock . . . The only student 
protests at this school were for more — and “different” — sex. 
J 8022... SIN CLINIC by Sheila Matthew. . . The hospital offended the 
town; ‘the interracial affair ripped it apart! 

C 8021 . . . UNDER-AGE LOVER by George Paul.. . At what age is one 
too young for sex? 

© 8020 . . . SWAP STREET by Robert H. Sheldon . . . Unrestricted wife- 
swapping on the interracial scene. 


C 8019 .. . HOT ROCK by Gloria Bell . . . While on tour in the U.S., an 
international rock group finds much to get hot“ about. 


C 8018 ... BANG MAN by Phil Powers . . . A perverted sex drive was his 
only weapon for revenge. 


O 8017... bee tl ms aoa . These studs and 
nymphets broke every sex taboo 


C 8016 . . . HARD UP! by Mark . » + Marsh Iw — 
but never satisfied! * man Ee a bir 


PF . Gwen was 
á bedeviled nymphomaniac who needed very special men. 


O 8014 . . . SEX ARENA by Cari Driver . . . In corrupt old Rome, homo- 
sexual love and atrocities were kinsmen of masters and slaves. 


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