The boyfriend, on the other hand, is generally monogamous. There is a rule in my house that the girls must respect the boyfriend, or lovers, of the madam, and any fooling around with “the old man” will result in instant dismissal of the girl.
In Georgette’s case the situation is a weird reverse. Georgette’s stockbroker boyfriend, Stephen, is interested only in drugs, booze, and broads, in that order. Her solution is to pay her own girls to sleep with him. That way, she rationalizes, he doesn’t have to stray – at least not outside her front door. He is not really what you call a pimp, yet Georgette is always crying poverty. As stingy as she is to her girls, that’s how generous she is to him. I’d estimate that ninety percent of her money goes to him – his “trips” and his girls.
In my house, the only one who cheats is me. My private life is like a perpetual triangle, with myself and my steady boyfriend, Larry, as the constant side, and the lovers who pass through – some quicker than others – as the variable third.
As I’ve said before, I am an emotional person, and I have my ups and downs, and if my boyfriend weren’t there, safe and sure, and if I did not occasionally fall in love, I would get very depressed and couldn’t keep my head straight.
Larry has been my backstop boyfriend since my first experience in Puerto Rico. On top of that, he functions as an administrative assistant, taking care of all banking, tips, payoffs, bad debts, bail, and any other money matters. If somebody tries to move in on me, he runs interference and checks them out like a private detective.
He is honest, reliable, loves me deeply, is solid as the Rock of Gibraltar. Larry is not quite the intellectual I am looking for, and he does not share my interest in art, literature, music, or the theater, even though this concern has been sadly neglected since I became professional. He is not strong enough for me, either. What I really need is a man who is superintelligent and someone who will bang his fist on the table and say to me: “Goddamnit, this is it, now you do what I want.” Someone I can love, adore, and most of all, respect. I’d like him to be good-looking and masculine, but most important, I want him to be stronger in personality than I am.
My pet name for Larry is “El Schnuko,” the schnook – which in a friendly way means, the good-natured friend who does anything I want. In other words, he helps me around the house, does the vacuum-cleaning, empties the ashtrays, shops for groceries, takes care of stocking the bar, packs the cartons each time I have to move. And if I lay back and let him, he would turn me into a Jewish American Princess. But this doesn’t mean I don’t love Larry in my own way. He is tall and attractive and has a marvelous head of silver hair. When my friends or the girls refer to him as “the silver fox,” it’s meant strictly as a compliment.
Larry is comfortable to have around, especially on Saturdays and Sundays after a tough week of four hours’ sleep a night. As a hard-working madam I am not up to going out to football games, going to cocktail parties, or dropping in on friends. So Larry comes over and keeps me company.
He has been an absolute darling, considering what I have put him through. I have insulted him, hurt his feelings, and stepped on his heart. From time to time I have told Larry I am in love with someone, and many times I have cheated right under his nose. But I tell him they are all just ships passing in the night.
I let him know about the time I dragged the Negro doorman upstairs, screwed his pants off, and gave him a ten-dollar tip because he really deserved it. And the time the dentist’s laughing gas got me so horny I made him send the nurse on an errand, and we made love in the chair.
Larry gets hurt and angry when I tell him about these things, even though I have never led him to believe I am anything but promiscuous. I have also tried to include him in some of the extra activity, but it is usually a failure because he gets so jealous.
One time I took him to the nudist colony in New Jersey to join in the swinging there, and unfortunately for Larry, soon after we walked in I saw the beautifully shaped suntanned behind of an attractive man, and there was nothing I would rather do than stick my tongue in between his buttocks. No pussytime today. My mood is man.
The man was a gym teacher named Phil who was at the camp with his not-too-attractive girl friend, and they were both swingers looking for partners.
No problem, we were ready. At least I was. Larry was not turned on at all by the girl, and once inside their cabin he became petulant and just sat back there on the bed while she was going down on him. But not me: I was like a wolf after Phil’s ass.
Phil lay there, athletically shaped, and I squatted on the floor alongside him. He then wrapped his legs in a strong grip around my neck, which put me in a perfect position to devour his delicious buttocks and slowly work my way up to the more tantalizing parts of his body.
Larry was sneaking sidelong glances our way, and I could see he was angry, but I was too preoccupied with Phil to care about Larry’s jealousy.
Phil’s fresh-smelling body encouraged me to continue this devastating play. By now fully stimulated, I had crawled on the bed and was holding and caressing his pulsating penis, while he was exciting me tremendously with his vibrating tongue movements at my hardened clitoris. In ecstasy my hips were undulating up and down, to and fro in the classic rhythm of sex, and he in turn picked up the symphony of motion and proceeded to propel his manliness to the very depth of my warm succulent mouth. Our motion grew into a magnificent crescendo of our act of love.
For me, this is the most delicious way of making love to a man, if it is someone who knows what he is doing. But meanwhile, I have to eat his cock, feel that penis to such an extent that it is about to explode in my mouth. It is just as much a psychological as well as physical mixture. If a man lies between my legs and eats me, even though he may have a better angle of doing it, it does not turn me on as much as the mutual “lingus.” It has to be a two-way street, and both parties should be enjoying each other equally.
With Phil, who had multiple orgasms, it was the most fantastic experience. I climaxed almost immediately, breaking a promise Larry and I had made, that in swings we could give our bodies, but not our orgasms. Larry just sat there grinding his teeth to a powder and making fists of his hands. His poor partner must have gotten an inferiority complex when his usually big hard-on melted like an ice-cream stick.
Luckily Larry shut up until Phil and I had reached our climax, and then the fireworks started. “You did not keep your promise not to climax with another man. You even ate his ass, and you never eat mine!” he raged.
I suppose that last accusation could have justified his fury, because it is true, for some reason I never give Larry around-the-world. It’s just one of those things. But I never kiss him, either, because his mouth doesn’t turn me on. It is too thin and unsensuous.
However, as lovers go, Larry is not bad. He’s a damn sight better than when I first met him as a typical uptight Jewish man who had eaten pussy maybe once in his life, didn’t like it, and didn’t do it again. But, as with all my personal lovers, I taught him how to make love properly and how to please a woman.
However, I happen to like variety when I’m horny, and while I think I have made him understand this, it is impossible to make him accept it. Occasionally it drives him to fits of jealous anger. I am sure one of us will kill the other one day.
This almost happened in Puerto Rico last Christmas when Larry took me there for a week to rest and relax. We stayed at the El Conquistador, which is such a luxurious establishment that only very affluent older people and their young kids are there. A funicular train runs from the beach and pool up to the hotel. As far as action for me, there was nothing around except one beautiful-looking seventeen-year-old boy, tall as a sapling, with dark velvet eyes, sensuous, dramatic face, and that Continental-looking complexion that matched exactly with his longish golden-brown hair.