As we have noted throughout, there are many types of older women who are greatly excited by making love to young boys, and while each case history, each woman, was different, each also possessed certain similar attributes. All of the women we have studied were passionate, some of them excessively so. Some were unmarried, some widowed, some divorced. All were extraordinary. They were not run-of-the-mill females. The average woman has no compulsion to fuck with young boys. This requires a special need and drive – a sexual demand for youthful cock. The subjects of our case histories were unique – they were all in their thirties, very sexually aware, and very determined to fulfill their passionate needs in their own peculiar manner.
The women we have studied are not isolated cases. None of them required mental attention stemming from their compulsive actions. They sought only sexual fulfillment, without harming anyone, and they achieved their goal by relying on youthful boys as their love partners. These women were not frustrated, hurt, angry or openly rebellious about their situations. They were fulfilled, satisfied, by the strength of the youths who serviced their needs.
For a number of years Helen Garlin had endured her husband's indifference, had contented herself, or tried to, with spending his money almost as fast as he made it. There seemed to be no other pleasures in her life. And then she met Jack – a sixteen-year-old stud who sold his sexual services to older women, married or unmarried. She heard about him through another woman, secured his phone number and one weekend when her husband was out of town on business, she called him up and told him bluntly that she wanted to hire him. He was very careful about discussing the matter over the phone, but told her, after ascertaining her address, that he would call on her that same evening about nine o'clock. He advised her to have sufficient cash available, though he failed to point out exactly what amount he would require. Before she could ask, he had hung up.
Helen Garlin spent the remainder of the day in making herself appear as sexually attractive as she possibly could. Helen was not at all an unattractive woman. She was thirty-six, but seemed to look younger. Her figure was good, there was no fat on her frame, no wrinkles in her face or hands. One could think that Helen Garlin would be the last female in the world to need to hire a stud in order to please herself. Even as nine o'clock approached, she was not quite certain if she intended to go through with the arrangement. It was not until the door chimes startled her and she had gone to the door to open it and saw the handsome, young – very young – man standing there, that she made up her mind.
She instantly made up her mind that she was going through with her earlier plans.
One look at the sexy young man and Helen Garlin was hooked. She let him in wordlessly, noting that he was dressed most fashionably. He smiled, revealing even, white teeth, and stepped past her as she closed and locked the door. It was only then that she thought to ask his name.
He was the picture of ease, the way he stood there looking at her, not too boldly, certainly not shyly, but with a strong sexiness that brought a tingling sensation to her crotch. "I'm Jack," he said simply. "I never tell my last name, if you don't mind."
Helen managed to smile at him, though her heart was hammering so hard she found it difficult to smile. She ran her tongue over her dry lips.
"My name is Helen," she told him, wondering if it was wise to give a stud her name.
"Don't worry," he said. "I never discuss my clients with anyone."
Helen took a deep breath and let the air out quickly. "Thank you. I would appreciate if you… did that." She had forgotten what she was about to say.
"Please try to relax, Helen. You'll find it is not really all that traumatic."
She cleared her throat, knowing she had to say something back to him. "I hate to ask… but how much do your services… " She stopped and looked at him, hoping he would supply the answer to her uncompleted query.
He mentioned a figure that did not seem unreasonable, though she had no certain way of knowing whether it was or not.
"Do you – er – stay with… a… girl… until she is… " For the life of her she could not get the proper words to come out of her mouth.
"If necessary, I'll remain with you all night… until you are satisfied, Helen. If I may say so, I don't have many complaints."
"Would you stay all night with me?" she blurted.
"Yes. The figure is slightly higher for this. I hope you don't mind. I make my living… "
"I understand," she said quickly, interrupting him because she didn't want to discuss money any further.
He glanced about the room. "Your husband?" he inquired without specifying what he meant.
She knew what he was asking. "He's out of town for the weekend."
He nodded. "That's good. Husbands sometimes don't like people like me." He smiled easily as he spoke.
"I've heard that… some husbands… well, you know," she said lamely.
"True," he said as if he understood what she was trying to say. "I've been hired… I beg your pardon… engaged by a few husbands to… take their place… while they are out of town. It seems to work quite well, usually."
"Really?" Helen found this hard to believe.
He just continued to smile at her.
"Shall we have a drink together, Jack?"
"I don't drink very much. I'm sure you understand why."
She nodded. "Very well. You don't mind if I have one, do you, before… before… " She found she could not finish this sentence, either.
"Before we get down to business?" he asked. "Is that what you mean?"
She actually blushed. It felt strange, blushing in front of a strange young man who seemed so at ease, while she, a much older person, was anything, but at ease. Turning her face away, she walked to the bar and poured herself a drink, taking note of the way her fingers were trembling. Damn it! Why did she have to appear to be such a clod? She knew she wasn't such a dunce, but she was certainly giving him the impression that she was. A drink would help, perhaps. Maybe two drinks would help more. She had two drinks, her back turned to him during the few moments it required her to toss them down. Finally, she turned around and smiled at him, feeling much better about things than before. The drinks had worked instant wonders for her.
"Are you ready to go to bed?" she asked.
He smiled. "Anytime. Would you care to undress in front of me, or would you like me to disrobe in front of you?"
He speaks quite well for a boy, she thought. "I'd like you to undress first," she said. "Do you mind if I watch you do it?"
"Not at all," he said and coughed.
"Oh… I'm sorry… I'll get the money for you right now." She had it all ready in her purse and it was the work of but a moment or two to get it and hand it to him. She didn't quite meet his gaze when she paid him. She supposed later that he stuffed the bills in his wallet, but she did not actually see him do this.
"Now," he said amiably. "If you'll just sit on the sofa there, I'll pull off my clothing." He glanced about quickly.
"The shades are all drawn," she told him quickly. "No one can see into the house."
He smiled at her. "Thank you," he said, sounding more like a mature man, somehow, than a mere boy. More than likely his considerable poise came from having been with so many women. "I'll just remove my shirt first." Actually, he had to take off his jacket first. Then his shirt. He was not wearing anything under the shirt and she stared at his youthful, but thoroughly masculine chest for what seemed to be a long time. He then removed his shoes and socks and stripped down his pants. Standing in front of her in only his briefs, he looked at her inquisitively as if waiting for her to say something.
"You have a nice body," she heard herself say. Helen's thighs had become incredibly moist suddenly. "Very nice."
He came closer to her and stood with his hands on his hips. "Do you wish to feel it before I continue?" he asked softly.
Her hands were shaking again, damn it. Nevertheless, she was not going to refrain from touching his cock, especially since he had asked her if she wanted to do so. She reached out her hands, then pulled one back in slight confusion. Then she carefully felt his cock through the cloth of his briefs.
"That's good," he told her. "It helps to break the ice."
Good grief, he's talking to me as if I were a complete jackass, she thought. "It's not necessary to break the ice, boy," she said coolly. "I broke the ice for myself quite some time ago."
He just smiled at her.
Helen made up her mind to be just as much at ease as he was, if it killed her. Casually, or at least in a manner she thought was casual, she kicked off her shoes, pulled down her pantyhose, removing them completely. Off came her blouse and then her skirt. She placed them over the rear of the sofa. Now, she unhooked her bra, giving him a seductive look as she did so. She kept her tits partially covered with her hands and arms and then… she pulled down her panties.
"Take your briefs off," she told him. "I'm ready now."
He pushed his briefs down his legs and she looked at his slim, long cock. His cock had a very dark look to it, much darker than the rest of his skin, and for some crazy reason this caused her to breathe much faster. She knew she had to say something – anything.
"It's cute," she said, meaning it's terrific, but not quite willing to compliment him that much.
"Cute and long," he said, smiling. "Ten inches, to be exact."
"Yes," she agreed. "That's quite a long one. It doesn't seem to be ten inches long. Are you sure?"
He rubbed his prick a few times and it grew before her eyes. "Now it is, or soon will be. It's not all the way up yet, Helen."
Helen Garlin was terribly excited now. She wanted him to get on top of her and… fuck her as roughly as he knew how. Did she dare to ask him? She did. "Get on top," she said, her voice trembling. "I want your ten inches in me." Her voice actually broke, but she was so agitated now she didn't care. When he didn't immediately crawl on top of her she said, "Didn't you hear me, Jack? I said get on top of me. I want your cock in me."
"Will you please me, Helen?" he asked.
She looked up at him dumbfounded. "What did you say?" she asked. He smiled down at her. "I asked you if you would do something to please me." "I guess so. What?"
"Will you, when you ask for it – will you – er – say the four-letter words?" Helen swallowed. "Why?"
"It's something I like to hear from my clients before I climb on top. You don't have to say it that way. It's just that it helps me, later."
"You mean you want me to beg you to… do it to me? Is that what you mean?" "Well… just ask me, but use the word."
Helen swallowed again. "Fuck… me… Jack. Please… fuck me… I need to be fucked by a young boy… terribly." She was on the verge of tears now and this, she felt, might be a good thing – it might relax her. Tears often did this for her.
"That's the way I like to hear a lady talk," he said softly. "I like the word 'fuck.' " He smiled and leaning over kissed her cheek tenderly. "Now, my dear lady, get your cunt ready. My ten inches are coming in. Stay flat on your back for here comes Jack."
Why, he's a poet, she thought. He's an artist. He's just wonderful, this kid.
She had no more time to think about this, for ten inches of hard cock had been thrust into her wet cunt and she was then taken completely and beautifully out of this world for a very long, gratifying time.