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"A Wife Alone" written by neverumind

WJ-105
A Wife Alone
by Tom Simpson





CONTENTS

Introduction
CHAPTER ONE: A Personal Demonstration
CHAPTER TWO: A Good Piece of Land
CHAPTER THREE: The Hard Sell
CHAPTER FOUR: "If I Ring Your Chimes
CHAPTER FIVE: A Couple of Mooches
Conclusion
Bibliography


INTRODUCTION

"Selling encyclopedias door to door can be a drag, but it also has its compensations. When you knock on a door, you

never know who is going to answer. Of course, you have your sales pitch all ready, and you have to be convinced that you're

selling the greatest encyclopedia in the world and that everyone needs to have a set. No home is complete without it. However,

there are times when you just don't give a damn whether they buy or not.

"For instance, I remember one morning when I was feeling especially horny. I'm usually horny, but some days more that

others, and this was one of those late spring days when the sap was beginning to rise. I hadn't had a good f*** in about a

week, and it had gotten to the point where the lady next door was beginning to look good to me-and she's in her sixties-so you

know what state I was in.

"My first stop of the day was a Mr. and Mrs. C-. The first step to being a good salesman is that you never just bang on

the door and ask for the lady of the house. You always get the occupant's name so you have a certain amount of familiarity

going for you. Well, Mr. and Mrs. C-turned out to be the widow, Cynthis C-, and a gorgeous young widow she was indeed. She

couldn't have been more than thirty-if she was that. Now, she may not have been the most beautiful girl in the whole world-I

don't want to tell you that lie. And maybe my standards weren't as high as they could be, being so damned horny and all, but

she was still mighty sexy looking. Long tapering legs, a well-oiled chassis, slim waist, good-sized tits, long blonde hair,

full, juicy red lips, and a nice-looking face.

"My prick started to get hard the minute she opened the door. I came at just the right time, too; she had just finished

taking a shower, and all she had on was a thin bathrobe-not the kind you can see through, but it was still thin enough that it

didn't hide any of her curves. Her hair was still up, and she had stepped into a pair of those fluffy slippers. And it was

obvious from the first that that's all she was wearing.

"I tried to keep my mind on making a sale, but my prick wouldn't cooperate. It had its mind on other things. The pants

I was wearing were so tight that if I'd dropped my pencil, I'd have been in trouble. Sometimes, if I happen to get a hard on in

the line of duty, so to speak, I make every effort to keep the customer-or potential customer from knowing about it. That sort

of thing can interfere with the sale, you know. But Mrs. C-was so luscious looking, I just couldn't deprive her of the pleasure

of seeing what she did to me. I asked for Mr. C-; that's always wise in a situation like that. After all, he might be in the

bedroom or somewhere, and that could lead to some rather disagreeable complications, to say the least.

"My husband is dead. I'm Mrs. C-. May I help you?'

"I wanted to say, 'You sure as hell can,' but I restrained myself and told her that I thought she might be able to.

Then I asked if I might come in for just a minute. You can't make a sale standing on the front porch-though I must admit, I've

done it a couple of times-but it's always a safer bet if you can get inside the door.

"Mrs. C-hesitated for a minute, and I noticed that she gave a quick glance at my crotch where my prick was doing its

best to rip its way out of my pants. She said, 'Yes, I guess so.'

"I tried to stick strictly to business, once I got settled on the couch inside, only Mrs. C-(Cynthis, as she told me

her name was) and the throbbing of my prick were distracting, and I found it hard to concentrate on the sales pitch. I got off

on asking if she had any children, and how lonely it must be for her to be by herself so much of the time. (Especially in bed

at night, I was thinking, but I couldn't very well say that.)

"By the time she found I was selling encyclopedias, she started to turn me off, but we'd done quite a bit of talking

together by that time, and she couldn't just say, 'No; please leave.' She offered me a cup of coffee, and I accepted

gratefully. Anything to stay a little longer. I took my time drinking the coffee, too. Meanwhile, we got to talking about the

life of a salesman, and I was telling her how I had to be careful not to get too involved with the people I visited, only it

wasn't easy, sometimes. At times, it was all I could do to maintain an objective attitude. Like, right now, for instance.

"Yes,' she smiled, 'I notice you're having some difficulty.' We both knew she was referring to my roaring hard on.

"You must admit,' I told her slyly, 'you've been making it hard for me.'

"She didn't know what to say to that, and she kind of stumbled around, and finally came out with, 'I'm not doing it on

purpose.'

"No. I didn't mean that. Still, you're a very beautiful woman. You are one of the most desirable women I've ever met.'

"That got her; every woman likes to think of herself as being desirable. For that matter, I guess we all do. It didn't

take long after that before I was helping her out of her bathrobe. After all, what kind of a salesman am I if I can't even talk

my way into a piece of ass now and then? Of course, it helped that Cynthis had been a widow for about six months-long enough

that she was hot to go, but not long enough that she was getting out and finding some dick. And, not that I want to sound

conceited, I'm not exactly ugly. I have a certain appeal; I'm fairly tall and still in good shape, and I take good care of my

appearance. All that helps, you know.

"I wanted to f*** her right there, in the living room on the floor. She insisted that we go into the bedroom, though. I

had my pants off and my dick was hard as a rock, and it didn't get any softer, following that beautiful ass of hers into the

bedroom. She lay down on the bed, and I was about to pile on top of her, but I decided I'd better take off my shirt. I didn't

want to get it all messed up; after all, it was still early, and I had a lot of calls to make before the day was out..

"So, it ended up, she had nothing on at all, and all I had on was my socks. Man! That body of hers was so ripe and

ready, I didn't give a damn whether she bought a set of encyclopedias or not. I climbed on, feeling those firm tits of hers

pressing into my chest and my prick gouging into her thighs. Her mouth met mine in an openmouthed, sloppy, passionate kiss that

sent chills all the way down to my toes. That wicked tongue of hers started jabbing and probing into my mouth. My tongue shoved

between her lips and I swabbed in and out of her mouth with it; she started to suck on it like it was candy, and I could tell

she was dying to get my dick in her mouth.

"All this time, I was humping my butt, like I was kind of fucking her. My cock felt good rubbing back and forth across

her thighs. I could have stayed that way all day, only I had other calls to make, and, besides, I wanted to see how far she

would go. There's nothing I like better than a hot bitch who has gone without for a while; you get her turned on and she'll do

anything you ask. Those tits of hers kept begging for some attention, though. I got down and started sucking and nibbling on

her nipples, one after the other. I chewed and sucked on one of them for a while, driving her wild with passion; then, when she

acted like she couldn't take another minute of it, I switched over to the other one and worked on it until she had to scream

for me to stop.

"That's when I climbed up on her chest and shoved my cock into her mouth. Man, did she gobble that meat down; she'd

been so starved for sex, and I had worked her up to such a pitch, she was ready for anything. I think I could have shot off in

her mouth and it wouldn't have fazed her in the least. That's how hot she was. And she really knew how to suck cock! She had me

ready to come two or three times, and I had to hold her down and pull my dick out of her mouth for a minute to cool down; I

didn't want it to end too soon. I had things to do, but I wasn't in that much of a hurry.

"I finally got around to her pussy-and a sweet little pussy it was. She was still pretty young, and though she had a

little mileage on her-I mean, she wasn't exactly a virgin-still she had a long way to go before she was worn out. I stuck my

finger in her pussy, and she gasped; she started humping on it like it was a big, fat prick. Oh, man, was she ever a hot one!

She was playing with my dick, jacking it off kind of, and kind of pulling on it like she was trying to get it up to her mouth

again. But I'd had enough of that route; she'd already showed me she was hot enough she'd do anything. I didn't want to come by

jacking off, either; hell, why waste it?

"I got down next to her and spread her legs apart and climbed in between them, and then I let her guide my cock into

that tight pussy of hers. Talk about hot! It was like shoving my cock into a hot oven, only it was soft and wet, and she

clamped around my cock like a vise. I doubled her legs back over her body and then fell on top of her, grabbing her tits and

kneading them and pinching her big, hard nipples. She kept trying to kiss me on the mouth but I wasn't about to let her stick

her mouth on mine after she'd sucked my dick. I bit her earlobes and started humping into her like she was a sack of flour or

something, pounding and banging into her like I was mad or something.

"Christ! Was that ever a good f***! And she was so hot, she came almost the minute I shoved my dick into her. I like it

when a woman gets her kicks, too; you really know she's hot then, and it makes it so much more exciting. It always makes me hot

when a woman comes all over my dick. Besides, you don't have to f*** as hard with her pussy jerking and shuddering all around

your dick like that. She was almost sobbing in my ear by the time all that shaking and jerking died down, and I could begin to

pound into her once more.

"All that pounding had its effect, too. By the time I was ready to shoot my load, she came a second time. I didn't stop

my fucking that time; I just kept right on going, ramming it into her, while she was screaming and sobbing into my ear. She was

wiggling around so much, I could barely keep my dick in her; she almost threw me out of the saddle a couple of times, but I

held her down and banged my meat into her until my juice came spurting out. Her fingernails were digging into my back so hard

at that point, it felt like she was tearing deep scratches into my flesh, and there were some marks there the next day, but she

didn't draw any blood.

"Man, that was a wild orgasm, though; it was like trying to f*** a wildcat, while the damned thing was fighting and

spitting and clawing away at you and trying to get away. But I held on and managed to fill that hot little pussy full of come

juice. When I finally pulled my prick out, the stuff was pouring out of her. She really knew she'd been f***** by a man when I

got through with her. And was she ever grateful. She washed me off afterwards and insisted on fixing me a good meal-plenty of

eggs. While she was working around, getting the meal ready, I got to talking about my encyclopedia-and damned if I didn't talk

her into buying a set. It was just the standard set, not the deluxe edition, but every little bit counts. Of course, she

figured I'd be the one to deliver it to her, but I sent one of the other men out. I don't know if she raped him or not, he

never said. I. tried to pump him about it later, but he wouldn't say anything-just smiled and said she was 'a charming

woman'-whatever he meant by that.

"I didn't stay around too long afterwards; the meal was nice, and all that, but I had other calls to make. And who

wants to sit around trying to beat a dead horse. I might as well have gone home, though, for all the good I did for the rest of

the day. I just couldn't seem to make a sale. I guess I was tired and worn out from my earlier workout. You can't do much good

when you're tired-either in sales or in bed. I ran into one old broad who tried to put the make on me, but, hell, after

Cynthis, who needs an old broad. I probably would have taken her up on it if I'd been fresh, and maybe even could have made a

sale, but I just didn't have the zip.

"That taught me a lesson, though. I tried to make it a rule from then on not to get mixed up in any sexual shit till

late afternoon, at least. Or, if something happens that I do-you know, you can never plan these things in advance; they just

happen-well, if it turns out that I run into a hot piece early in the day, I just take the rest of the day off. I know I'm not

going to do any good at all, and you can't go back and start all over again with a potential customer that you've already given

your pitch to. Better to save them for the next day when you can start out fresh and full of pep."

No one occupies a more notorious position in the folklore of sex than the ubiquitous door-to-door salesman. All are

familiar with the hackneyed and abundant line of Jokes based upon situations involving the traveling salesman and the farmer's

daughter, and other assorted fables. The unique and slightly glamorized conditions under which it is necessary for the salesman

to work have led to much jaundiced speculation by the cynical and prudent as to the nature of his occupational hazards. He has

truly become an archetypal figure in the mass psychology of American culture.

But do the venomous accusations of the husbands supposedly cuckolded by these enterprising merchants have any basis in

truth? That is' the question which this study set out to answer, and which, as shall be adequately demonstrated, is a question

that can be unequivocally answered in the affirmative. The hypothesis that the salesman by the very nature of his job and

native talents is perfectly suited to play the role of the seducer is a reasonable one, and could be safely assumed to be true

by the general, non-scientifically inclined public even in absence of empirical data such as will be presented here. The

results .of this survey hardly surprised any of the researchers who labored to compile the evidence. Now that the results have

been recorded on paper, and the final incidences of sexual behavior among the social group under study established, it can be

admitted that the results obtained were precisely the results expected.

The opportunities for the right type of public contact afforded by' the door-to-door approach taken by the salesmen

under study are equaled by few other occupations. Even the milkman, another much-scandalized folk figure, does not have the

extensive personal contact with his customers that makes it so easy for the peddler to get much more than his foot in the door.

Who but the door-to-door salesman has the socially condoned opportunity to converse with a wide variety of scantily clad

housewives who stay at home alone performing their menial, custodial duties while their husbands whip themselves into such

states of mental tension and physical exhaustion on their jobs that they have little energy left for lovemaking after their

workdays are over? Consider also that the very definition of a successful door-to-door salesman is that suave, articulate,

magnetic personality that has universally characterized the Don Juan, the Casanova, the legendary lady-killer or seducer. The

axiom familiar to everyone who has had any amount of sales experience is that to sell the product, one must first be able to

sell oneself.

And the door-to-door salesman who uses his occupational aptitude to obtain sexual favors is selling himself in the most

literal sense: he is engaging in male prostitution. In the majority of cases presented in this volume, the completion of a sale

in exchange for sexual intercourse vias, if not implicitly expected, strongly hoped for. Frequently, the salesmen would swallow

their pride and consent to having coital relations with women they didn't consider desirable and wouldn't under normal

circumstances seduce in order to meet their sales quotas for the day.

Initially, there would appear to be nothing pathological at all in the actions these salesmen took to augment their sex

lives. The wild tales of conquest they relate would arouse the envy of the participants in many a locker-room story-telling

session. At first there would seem to be nothing amiss with the sexual behavior of these salesmen; their philandering is

nothing but an exaggerated manifestation of the covert mores of a male-dominated society. But it is precisely this exaggeration

which places their behavior outside the boundaries of what is accepted as normal, and into that category which can in some

instances border on the psychopathic. When seduction takes on professional overtones, as it does in the sophisticated "stud

hustling" of some skilled door-to-door salesmen, it becomes somewhat more than a male-chauvinistic sport. It becomes the cold,

ruthless use of the strongest of human emotions for personal profit.

It is not clear at this time whether or not such a personal pathology is an antecedent of the profession of

salesmanship, or whether the personalities which are often found in this profession were always such, and have remained

unchanged even through daily utilization of their primary characteristics. In all probability, the answer to that question lies

in neither extreme, but in a combination of 'causes and effects. Particular personality types gravitate toward particular

occupations. If one were a necrophiliac, one would logically apply for a job working the night shift at the county morgue.

Sadists frequently find fulfillment as prison guards. It is hardly unnatural then that some (certainly not all, or even most)

door-to-door salesmen would be found to have histories that indicate the presence of certain characteristic methods of dealing

with their needs, methods that are readily adaptable not only to the art of salesmanship, but also to the practice of

prostitution.

Just what, then, is prostitution? Like most words in the English language, the term "prostitution" has several

annotative and connotative meanings. Alfred Kinsey and his associates, Pomeroy and Martin, define prostitution in its strictest

sense in their book Sexual Behavior in the Human Male:

By sociological and legal definition a prostitute is an individual who indiscriminately provides sexual relations in

return for money payments. The practical interpretation of the term emphasizes the fact that a prostitute accepts a sexual

relation with almost anyone, stranger or acquaintance, who offers to pay, and that the payment is in currency rather than in

goods or services.

It is impractical to confine the term to those persons who derive their whole living or any particular part of it from

prostitution, for a very high number of the females who engage in such activities do so as a minor adjunct to their regular

occupations. The person who is specifically paid for a single sexual relation is, for that particular occasion, a prostitute.

In a broader sense, prostitution is any sale of one's self or one's services. In this sense, our whole service-oriented

economy could be defined as an economy of prostitution. Public high schools constantly exhort their pupils to learn to "sell

yourself' in order to get a good job, get accepted at a good university, or win popular social approval. The door-to-door

salesman is a caricature of this philosophy. The salesman whose personality was probably inclined in such a way from the outset

is heavily influenced by such indoctrination. The practice of salesmanship on a day-to-day basis .In grains in him the

superficial virtue of maintaining an image and inures him against the conflict which the chronic subtle dishonesty that he

perpetrates against his environment creates.

The essence of the attitudes of most salesmen who regularly practice seduction and sexual prostitution seems to lie in

a basic lack of self-esteem. Many of the salesmen who came into contact with this study for consultation were so over practiced

at maintaining a glib, slick veneer that they appeared to have completely forgotten how to be themselves. Most of the

difficulty in honestly communicating with them lay in their refusal to abandon their gigantic sales pitch which they

neurotically clung to as a defense mechanism. They were afraid to show any real emotion and engaged in a desperate competition

to stay in control of the situation by keeping all conversation at a trivial, shallow level.

The reader must not get the mistaken impression that the salesman solely is responsible for any affair which he has

with a client. On the contrary, most of the seductions in the cases which appear in this book were quite mutual. In fact, some

amounted to the near-rape of the salesman by the female. The narratives of salesmen are of much sociological worth. Every

pattern of savior which the door-to-door peddler observes In. his dally rounds is of interest to the social scientist. Salesmen

must glean an informal, practical education in demography as a secondary benefit of their job. Their generalizations are almost

as invaluable to the researcher as any sophisticated statistical survey. It was hardly surprising, then, that descriptions by

solicitors of sexual encounters with American women confirmed the current sociological theories that, in general, they are a

disgruntled and dissatisfied lot.

Take, for instance, the housewife. While enough variations were found in her behavior to render the academic

stereotypes invalid, the consistency of her attitudes toward sexual fulfillment in marriage was concrete enough to allow

accurate predictions to be made of her reactions to opportunities to commit casual adultery. Casual adultery differs from the

clichéd long-or short-term extramarital affair, as John F. Cuber points out in his contribution to Extramarital Relations,

edited by Gerhard Neubeck.

The dynamics of adulterous relationships also break with conventional stereotypes about them which generally run to

assertions that such relationships typically follow a cycle which begins in infatuation, has a relatively short decline, ends

in disillusionment, a new partner is found, and the cycle is repeated. We found examples fitting this model, to be sure, but

typically the cases were otherwise. The most conspicuous contrast is, of course, the brief, emotionally uninvolved "sexcapade,"

commonly known as the "pickup." There is no cycle; partners are typically relative strangers, even names may not be known;

neither expects any continuity or wants it.

Housewives who would not consider violating the fidelity of their marriages by carrying on a prolonged and painful love

affair many times literally leap at the chance to experience some sexual varietism in their typically jaded and often

nonexistent love lives. Incidents are narrated by salesmen in this book in which their sexual services were actively solicited

in return for promised sales.

Perhaps it is the excitement of the possibility of being apprehended which accentuates the desirability of such

adulterous relations to the point that either the salesman or the female customer is compelled to realize the fantasies

concerning the act. John Cuber stresses the dangers inherent in committing adultery in Neubeck's Extramarital Relations.

Yet adulterous relationships in this culture at this time must operate within a network of obvious threat. Even if

there is tolerance as far as spouses and friends are concerned, such relationships are still illegal and, although the law is

rarely invoked, no one knows when some freak of fate may force an exposure which no one intended. Then there is the risk of

pregnancy which, even with present contraceptive know-how, is not completely eliminated. Persons who are quite tolerant of

sexual freedom may not be tolerant with respect to reproduction outside the limits of marriage. While we found much less

evidence of the double standard than we expected, one aspect showed up importantly in the adulterous relationship, namely, the

feelings of "second-class" status on the part of the "other woman." Social sanctions are still more austere where women are

concerned and, of course, women bear the brunt of the burden of illicit pregnancy. It is not wholly clear from our data whether

this sensitivity on the part of women derives from the differential pregnancy risk and more austere social sanctions or whether

it runs more deeply into female psychology, but unless she has satisfactory extrinsic gratifications in her legal and open

status, it seems difficult for her to be totally satisfied by the intrinsic aspects of her clandestine relationship.

The main motive of the housewives who consented to sexual relations with the door-to-door salesmen who contributed to

this study may have been defiance of the authority of their spouses, or just general physical sexual tension. It is doubtful

whether they genuinely expected any lasting satisfaction to come from their brief trysts. Fuller analyses of the psychologies

of adulterous housewives may be found in other volumes. This study deals with the phenomena of prostitution, adultery, and

other perihelia primarily as they relate to the door-to-door vendors.

The last few pages have dealt with the most typical situation which meets the conditions of this study; namely, the

situation in which a male door-to-door salesman commits adultery with a married woman whom he meets in the course of his work.

To be sure, there are many other situations which are covered in this volume. One of them includes a schizoid lady salesman who

is transformed into a lustful animal whenever she rings the doorbell to a house where she intends to peddle cosmetics. Many of

the male salesmen have had extensive experience with single women, divorcees, bisexual couples, [SPAM], etc. The most constant

psychological factor in all these multifarious sexual encounters was the attitude the individual salesmen took toward their sex

objects. This attitude was most obviously a self-centered one (which was consistent with the rest of their self-centered

personalities) and would be defined as male chauvinism by recent advocates of women's rights.

Because this study deals with the relations between the sexes, it is sexual chauvinism which stands out here as the

most striking kind. But a more general analysis of the personalities of the salesmen involved reveals that this male chauvinism

is but one of the more blatant expressions of a generally bigoted nature. To a greater or lesser degree, most of the salesmen

under study here expressed hatred for anything that didn't adhere to their strict and confining defilations of what constituted

normalcy. One of these salesmen became very obnoxious in his derogatory comments about black people. Other distastes of his

included oral sex, the kissing of women on the lips, and the very existence of homosexuals. Not all of the solicitors shared

this man's prejudices by any means, but the great majority of them seemed to have developed their own individual biases.

Prejudice, contrary to the self-conscious preaching's of some well-meaning social reformers, is a function of the

intellect. It constitutes the very basis of deductive reasoning, which is the construction of generalizations from observations

of individual phenomena. Since it would be impractical, considering the vast amounts of data to which most people are exposed,

to evaluate every single situation as if it were wholly unique, human beings have developed the capacity to detect recurring

patterns in any system of events. This capacity differs in various individuals, and is measured as one of the components of IQ.

That it is possible to predict a number of tendencies in an individual by the mere knowledge of one or two facts is

demonstrated by the fact that insurance companies have been making millions of dollars by the application of just such

actuarial data. The validity or appropriateness of the stereotype or prejudice varies as the intellectual level of the

formulator of that stereotype or prejudice varies. The less sophisticated an individual is, the more likely he is to make

grossly inaccurate and unfair appraisals of persons and practices, and cling to them even in the face of obvious evidence of

his error. Neurosis can also compel the otherwise intelligent to cling to obsolete assumptions. Salesmen, because of their

continual exposure to large amounts of firsthand sociological data, are prone to develop prejudices. These prejudices are

frequently quite accurate stereotypes that are in a continual state of flux, subject to constant revision based upon newly

added evidence. The intelligent applications of these stereotypes can be of great benefit to their sales. The salesmen in this

study have mastered this application to varying and inconsistent degrees. Their status as professionals stands as a testimony

to their intelligence. Their chauvinism stands as it testimony to their neurosis. Their ability to deduce from subtle cues the

prospects for the success of an attempted seduction is the reason for the widespread incidence of door-to-door sex.

CHAPTER ONE: A Personal Demonstration

"It's been ridiculous ever since I got into door-to-door sales. I mean, I haven't done this sort of thing all my life,

you know. I was in aerospace until the layoffs got more numerous than new jobs. And what with a wife to support, house and car

payments to make, you grab whatever you can get. So I wind up selling door-to-door. You name it and I've sold it. Pots and

pans, stationery, mops, and even plastic garbage cans. But that doesn't mean I've been making a mint. In fact, I'm behind on

payments, I'm about to lose my job again, and my marriage is headed for the rocks ...

"Why? Because in door-to-door selling I've learned one thing: orders I'll maybe get-but laid I'm sure to get.

"I don't know what it is, but it seems that about half the doorbells I ring have got a piece of ass behind that winds

up pulling me into the sack. I am beginning to think that this is a country of neglected housewives, just starving for anyone

to come off the street and make them come all over their little family household ...

"The trouble is that this sort of thing IS messing up my life. I mean, you never know what may happen. You ring a

doorbell and find yourself with a potential customer who obviously has the hots. Now you don't lay her, then she is a woman

scored and the best you can hope for is 'No Sale.' The worst is that she calls your company and complains that you made a pass

at her. Just to get even. So okay, you lay her. Now that's hard on your nerves first of all, since you never know who might

show up at any moment. Besides, just getting to the point of actual banging often messes up your clothes so that you are shot

for any additional calls that day. And hell, you get all f***** out on the job and come home dragging your ass and sooner or

later the little woman catches on that something is going on. So you have a tense situation at home.

"Oh, hell, I could go on describing what a pain in the ass all this public-relations fucking is, but I might as well

describe a couple of incidents to illustrate the point.

"I'm handling upholstering fabrics now. We have a rather expensive line for the home, so I was assigned a territory

well up in the upper middle-class area. You know, where the poor live in $65,000 homes.

"It's my first call of the day. Fancy house, expensive landscaping, a pool visible through the lush foliage. My sales

case in hand I ring the bell and after a minute or so the door opens. It's a woman in her late twenties, I guess, dressed in

some sort of floor-length nightgown with a housecoat over it. There's that first distrustful glance that women always have for

strangers at the door, but I learned that a little smile and a warm glint in my eye can do wonders about that.

"I introduced myself and kept right on smiling and talking until I was well in the living room.

"Well, in a couple of minutes we were the best of friends. She tells me she's Mrs. Somebody Something the Third, but

pretty soon we settle for Cindy. She tells me her kid is in the kitchen eating breakfast and she has got to get him off to

school. It's the maid's day off. With my luck it's always the maid's day off. So while she is packing off the little brat I

size up the house. Expensive, everything in decent taste. Nothing needs upholstering, but then the object of sales is not to

give people what they need but to make them feel they need something they haven't got.

"Pretty soon Cindy has the kid on his bus and is back with me in the living room, only I notice that that nightgown is

gone from under the housecoat. I take a better look at her. She's one of those cute and perky blondes with an innocent look

about her, but with a neat little body and a sly glitter in her eyes.

"I get out my book of sample fabrics and go through my song and dance, extolling the virtues and outrageous prices of

my product. She seems to listen, but manages to inform me her husband is a thousand miles away, the kid will not be back until

the afternoon, and that she normally never, but never, lets in a stranger when she is home alone. Man, I hear that one and I

know!

"So it's not much of a surprise that when she leans over one of my samples her coat opens a bit at the top and I get a

good view of one of her breasts. She's got nothing on underneath. About this time I squat down to show her how a certain fabric

contrasts with her carpeting. She smiles and agrees and squats down too. Almost as if by accident her knee slips between mine

and applies firm pressure right onto my crotch. At the same time she looks up at me with that gleam in her eyes and smiles,

showing a little red tongue between her teeth.

"Well, I'm only human. What with that teasing look, that tit dangling out, and her knee massaging my crotch, it's no

wonder that old faithful down there reared his head to see where the action was. I could feel it harden and strain against her

knee. She kind of squinted at me, ran her tongue slowly over her lips and bored in with that knee. My pecker reared up like a

stallion at that and I thought: Christ, is this little witch going to bring me off with her damned knee? A knee job? Never

heard of that one.

"I did the only thing under the circumstances. I grabbed that vagrant tit, cupped it in my hand, and took the nipple

between thumb and forefinger. I felt it tighten and harden, the skin of the corona wrinkling up and shrinking just like the

skin over my balls. I gave the nipple a hard twisting squeeze. Cindy whimpered with pleasure at the painful thrill which seemed

to rip through her from the nipple to her pussy, because she gave a twitch down there and sank to her knees.

"With deft little hands she unzipped my pants and in a moment my pecker was blinking at the daylight. She kind of

stared at the thing thrusting up from between her fingers, then she put her hand near the head and, squeezing tightly, drew

down the foreskin as far as it would go. She strung that cock like a violin string, so taut I could feel her breath as she

lowered her face over it. With just the tip of her tongue she caressed the head, poked it into the slit, and gently rubbed it

underneath where the poor bastard has all his most sensitive nerves. Jesus, I almost came right there, but she noticed how the

cock was straining to get in her mouth, because she relaxed that taut hold and eased off. A tiny drop of lubricating fluid

gleamed at the tip of my cock, and her tongue gently wiped it off. She looked up at me, a long silvery thread of the fluid

stretching from her lips to my cock: 'I hope you don't think I always do this,' she said and, grinning, sucked in the strand,

'I don't know what got into me.'

"Hell, I thought, if you want clichés ... 'Well,' I told her while scrambling out of my clothes, 'I just hope that you

don't think that this is part of my regular sales pitch.'

"This broke us both up and I guess brought the whole thing down to the level where it belonged in the first place,

because she stood up, tossed off that housecoat, and, hands on hips, gave my now naked body an appraising glance.

"I've been so hot these last few days I could hear my cunt squeak.' She grinned. 'And the minute you walked in I knew I

was going to get laid even if I had to rip it off you. Thank God, you're hung like that-I'd have screamed if you popped up with

some tiny little dinger!'

"There are those initial moments when one is first alone in the nude with a woman and there is just the tinge of

embarrassment. Sort of, now what? Especially if you are relative strangers and really have nothing to say but feel you should

do something before getting down to plain old fucking. But this was not the case with Cindy.

"I was standing amid a heap of clothing, my pecker sort of bobbing a bit as if on the scent of something good, when she

comes up to me and folds herself into my arms. By standing on tiptoes she managed to straddle my cock, taking it into the hairy

folds of her cunt without putting it into her vagina. Her firm breasts were hot against my chest and her hardened nipples felt

like blazing little pebbles. That hungry little mouth closed over mine and her tongue started reaming out every nook and cranny

while her hips moved back and forth, sliding that burning pussy over my cock. I felt it get warm and slimy from her lubricating

fluids which were oozing out of her.

"I'm going to eat you up, you big cock, you,' she whispered, taking her mouth off mine. Settling down more on my

straining shaft, she lowered her bps and licked my neck, my shoulders, and chest. Moving down further, she caused my cock to

slip from between her legs and it smacked up against my belly like a shot from a sling. With her mouth now buried in one of my

armpits, she grabbed at my balls and kneaded them up against my body.

"This standing up was getting too much for me, so I eased myself down onto the couch with her on top of me. Still

clutching my balls, she twisted around on top of me until I suddenly found myself with her spread cunt at the tip of my nose

and the warm sheath of her mouth sliding over my entire cock. I thrust with my hips to cram it in all the way, to her stomach

for all I cared, and at the same time reached up to spread her ass and shove that hot cunt into my mouth.

"The moment her pussy enclosed my face and I shoved my tongue through those hot slimy walls in search of her clitoris,

she gurgled over my cock and began to flail away with her hips, smearing my entire face with her juice. She came almost

immediately, bouncing that twat of hers off my face as if off a trampoline.

"When she subsided a little, she eased away from my face and slowly drew my cock out of her sucking mouth. Tonguing it

around the head she pumped it with her hand and looked at me with a wet smile.

"No one made me come that fast before,' she grinned. 'I feel as if I had been served instant coffee instead of the real

perked thing ... You're not through yet, Mr. Salesman!'

"All I could do for the moment was wipe my face with the back of my hand and gasp for air. She kept on playing with my

pecker, obviously enjoying my watching her. She'd pump it with her hand until the lubricating fluid started flowing, then smear

the head over her lips, nose, eyes, and cheeks, her tongue never missing an opportunity for a slurp and a lick. Soon her whole

face was glistening from my juice and she buried it on top of my cock, working her lips down the vein toward my balls. Her

thumb expertly flipped the knob of my pecker as if she was cocking a six-shooter, and at the same time I felt one of my balls

pop into the hot hole of her mouth. She mauled it, sending electric shocks from my crotch up my ass and spine and back down

again. As one testicle left her mouth the other seemed to fall in, or maybe it charged in, for by this time my hips were

thrashing around like a bronco on the loose. When she somehow got both my nuts inside that cunt of a face of hers, I couldn't

stand it any longer and grabbed her butt again and jammed her crotch in my face. I'd give her one to remember!

"Her pussy was as wet as, or even wetter than, before and she lost no time getting it into action again. But this time

I decided that the gentleman pussy-eater routine was passé. She wanted a fucking and she was going to get one with all the

trimmings. As she bore her pelvis into my face, I worked my mouth over her clitoris, sucked it in from under its little hood,

and, half clamping it between my teeth, worked my lips from side to side. I heard her moan with pain and she got off my balls

and stuck my cock back in her mouth for comfort. Well, I now forgot about the old dong down there, there was time to take care

of him later, and concentrated on the twitching cunt trying to shove its way down my throat. I released the clit from between

my teeth and began to ream out with my tongue the length and width of that wild country. Her ass began to bob around in jerking

spasms and her legs kept opening wider and wider. When I felt that she was reaching a peak, I eased back and let her suck at

the air. This drove her wild and she flipped that snatch around looking for my tongue like a drowning man grabbing for a life

belt. Then I gave her a few teasing licks and sucks, just kneading the clit a bit to tantalize her, only to back off again when

she bore down eager for more. She now started to moan helplessly, near tears it sounded like, so I moved in for the kill. Her

ass was already spread apart over me like over a torture rack, but I split it even more and at the same time bored into that

frantic pussy. She shuddered and gurgled down in my crotch and I felt her fingernails dig into the base of my cock. I sucked in

all I could of her pussy and clamped down on it as tightly as I could with my mouth.

"Holding on for dear life, I shook my head like a dog wanting to rip off a pant leg. She let go of my cock and

shrieked, beating her fists on my thighs. Grabbing her with one arm across the small of her back, I ground her pussy down onto

me and at the same time stuck a finger of my other hand up her ass. That did it. She went into convulsions and sobbing, her

hands tearing at the couch, my legs, anything she could get a hold of. Twirling my, finger in her hole, I struggled to keep her

ass from bucking away from me as she started coming in great frenzied heaves. She began to pound her cunt into my face with so

much force I thought I'd lose teeth or at least get a split lip. Her juices had smeared me into a messy slimy state so that my

face just slithered around her crotch like the head of a monstrous cock. I whipped my face back and forth, ramming everything

with lips, gums, tongue, and teeth. Even my nose disappeared inside her snatch as she suddenly stiffened and, with a horrible

scream, snapped her legs shut, almost popping my skull. She kept me stifled and clamped like that while her body went through

some kind of personal earthquake, and then slowly, groaning and barely moving, her muscles relaxed and she collapsed into a

puddle of content jelly on top of me.

"When I was able to get some air, I finally eased her off my body and glanced down at her face. Her eyes were glazed

and my cock was sticking in her mouth as if it had been there since the day she was born. She munched on it feebly. I thought

that I had overdone it, and that the lady had had it, but suddenly her eyes gleamed again and, taking the cock out, she sighed

like a contented cow, looked at it lovingly, and said: 'Now it's your turn.'

"She knelt straddling my legs and began to suck me off in a very proficient manner. Holding the base of it between her

fingers, and kneading my balls with the heel of her hand, she began to bob up and down on the engorged staff like one of those

oil field pumps. With amazement I watched her rise up until she only had the tip in her mouth, then slide down taking the whole

length into her. She was a small woman, how the hell could she get so much cock into her mouth? It went in smoothly, her lips

sliding over the slimy shaft, her tongue warbling its way along the vein. Watching it slide in and out of her mouth excited me

very quickly and I knew I could hold it no longer. There would be a smacking sound when she'd jam it in all the way, and I

could feel the back of her throat on the tip. Unable to stand it any longer, I grabbed the back of her head with both hands and

rammed her down on each stroke. In seconds I felt the dam bursting and with a roar I shoved my hips as far as I could against

that face between my hands. The first burst went off deep in her throat and she coughed and gagged. I kept pumping her fucking

face down until cream erupted up and down my shaft from her overfilled mouth. I kept right on squirting it into her with every

shove, jamming and pounding. The semen engulfed her, she could not swallow fast enough. Coughing, she let it ooze out her mouth

or, snorting, out her nose. I didn't care if it came out her ears, I was getting mine and wanted every drop of it inside that

face of hers. When finally she drained off the last of it, I was a shuddering corpse and she looked as if she had fallen into a

puddle of semen. It dribbled out of her nose, glistened on her chin, and, when she opened her mouth to gasp for air, it swayed

in filmy strands between her lips.

"What a load,' she said when she finally caught her breath. 'For a minute I thought I was going to drown in it ...

imagine the autopsy report: jism in the lungs!'

"I certainly did not feel like small talk at this point. This was my first call of the day and I had already literally

blown half the morning. No orders, but a lot of ass. Still, at this point there was no use jumping into my clothes and getting

on with the job. An orgasm like I had just had takes too much out of you to leave any enthusiasm for something all mundane as

selling upholstery fabrics. In addition, I was sopping wet with sweat and needed cooling off.

"Cindy finally brought me around with a cup of coffee, like the good housewife that she obviously was. She asked me

about my work and personal life as if nothing had happened. The only incongruous thing about the conversation was that we were

both naked and she was playing with my limp cock while I sipped from a coffee mug. We did not discuss upholstery fabrics.

"You really like to wallow, in semen, don't you?' I said, for I observed she had not bothered washing it from her face.

Some of it had already dried into crusts and would flake off when she touched her face to brush back her now scraggly blonde

hair.

"Well, I guess it's like they say: you are what you eat. I don't know if I'd want a steady diet of It, but now and then

a good hot load of it like yours just drives me crazy with excitement. I guess it's just the thought of all that life that I am

making gush into me that turns me on. But sometimes I think it's almost like cannibalism. I mean, all those millions of sperm

which could be children just draining off all over the place ... '

"Noticing that my interest was waning in this type of conversation and that my eyes began straying toward my clothes,

my watch, and my book of fabric samples, she lay back on the couch and, sensually rubbing her breasts, looked at me

provocatively.

"But I think I know what you like,' she said, and spread her legs. 'I saw the way you watched me suck your big cock.

You like to see it all, don't you?'

"And with that she started to pinch her nipples and massage her breasts with one hand while the other hand sneaked down

to her cunt. She kept on lying there before my eyes. Hell, she was right, it did turn me on to see everything. And now, letting

me see this sexy piece fingering herself right in front of my nose was calculated to keep my mind from wandering.

"I forgot all about the coffee and door-to-door sales as I watched her middle finger delicately probe her pussy.

Expertly she found her clitoris and began gently to massage it. Soon she was cooing with pleasure, her hips grinding around,

her eyes still on me. She poked a finger into her vagina, then licked it off like a licorice stick. By the time she got; her

whole hand over her twat and started kneading the entire business around, she had accomplished her goal, because I had run up

the old flag again. She smiled as if greeting an old friend.

"Getting horny again, are you?' she smiled. 'Bet you would love to stick that tool up my cunt, wouldn't you? Come on,

tell me how you would like to f*** me! Come on, I want to hear!'

"It has often amazed me how women from what must be considered the educated levels of society love dirty language. I

often wondered if they did this only with their lovers or with their husbands as well. My own wife resented any four-letter

word except 'shit,' a point the meaning of which escapes me.

"Anyway, if Cindy wanted me to tell her how she was going to be f*****, she was in for a small disappointment. Watching

her diddle herself like that, seeing her fingers sliding in and out and getting all wet and glistening, entirely destroyed any

desire for conversation on my part.

"You want to hear about it or do it?' I asked and, armed with my erect cock, I grabbed her off the sofa twirled her

around, and pushed her toward an elegant antique table. She giggled and pretended to resist, but at the same time gave my cock

a few yanks as if ringing for a damned butler. Since she was not very tall, the table was just right for her. I put her

facedown over it and bent her over with her ass sticking up at me. Her breasts had flattened themselves on the tabletop and she

peeked at me over her shoulder to see what I would do. Not that she had any doubts about it, I'm sure. She even placed her feet

apart on the floor to get good balance and got a good grip on the table edge with her hands before I even rammed it into her.

Well, if she thought she was going to get a simple rear-ender she was mistaken. I first just put my cock up against her pussy

and let her wiggle around expectantly. When her juices had me well lubricated I started to tease her without insertion, just

drawing it over her crack from above the clitoris all the way back to her asshole. The ridge around the bottom of my cock's

head rippled over her goodies like a cartwheel over slimy cobblestones. Sometimes it almost fell into the trap of her vagina,

sometimes it poked suggestively at her asshole, but every time she made a lunge to get it inside her I kept it out of range.

"She was getting pretty wild now, so I put my hand over one of hers and slipped it between her legs and under my

probing cock. When she felt it sliding over her palm and fingers and up against her clitoris, she pressed it as hard as she

could to her and began to breathe heavily. I took her by the hips and started weaving that tool around her crotch from side to

side while working it in and out. As I increased the pace, I felt her ass tighten up and her back arch concavely, thrusting the

buttocks at me. She closed her eyes and began to moan into an orgasm through clenched teeth. When she was reaching the peak, I

pulled back for just one beat, then rammed it up her pussy as far as it would go.

"She gave a terrific yell and gasped as if she was going to throw up. The table rocked wildly as she started thrashing

her ass in the throes of orgasm. Fingers dug into her and holding on for dear life, I rammed it to her with long precise

strokes that half lifted her off her feet with each thrust. She shook as if trying to get me out of her, but I kept my

equipment buried and working. Her cunt felt smooth but tight, closing as I withdrew and yielding reluctantly when I pushed

home. She was now shaking terribly; she could not stop coming and her legs suddenly gave out while at the same time she lost

her grip on the tabletop. Table, Cindy, and I, all crashed to the floor, knocking over some chair in the process. I still had

my cock in her cunt and my hands on her hips. She was now uttering little high-pitched shrieks every time I smashed up into her

and her body thrashed on the floor like' a landed fish. It was all I could do to stay inside her, and we grappled all over the

place, her flailing legs and arms toppling smaller furniture and wrinkling a short Persian rug. Somehow I managed to work her

over to the couch, somehow I got her on her back, and somehow she tipped up and put her legs over my shoulders. I felt her

slide something under her ass propping it up for me. I plunged that cock of mine into her like a wildcatter after a gusher,

reaming it and twisting around until I thought I'd see its tip come out of her open gasping mouth. She had been literally

coming the entire time we had left the tabletop, and as I now started to deliver my end, that pussy of hers sounded like a wine

barrel with a bunch of grape crushers dancing in it. She whooped as my semen shot into her, her legs thrashing and her hands

raking my back: I squirted several more times and then fell to one side, my drained cock sliding out of that wild cunt along

with a minor flood of semen and pussy juice.

"It was then I noticed what she had under her ass for a bolster. It was my open book of fabric samples, now thoroughly

soaked with sweat, semen, and all the secretion of her cunt. It was obvious I had to take it to a dry cleaner before I could

hope to make another sales presentation ... "

Implicit prostitution has been shown to be a part of the behavior pattern common to the salesmen who participate in

door-to-door sex. Felix's case is no exception. Call it what you will-"stud hustling," or "public relations fucking," as Felix

put it-intercourse of the sort described by the solicitors in this study is unmistakably one of the present-day variants of

"the oldest profession." This type of on-the-job sex has all the disadvantages of basic mainline prostitution, such as the risk

of venereal disease and prosecution, but none of the advantages. Just because the salesmen consent to have sex with potential

customers does not guarantee that a sales will result. Rarely are verbal contracts made between salesmen and their clients

prior to the coital act. Most of the time it is merely assumed that such sexual relations will be followed by the purchase of

goods. Many times, that assumption turns out to be completely unfounded, but it proves to be correct frequently enough to place

the solicitor who employs sex as a tool in the same mercenary category as the call girl, the streetwalker, and the brothel

inmate.

Perhaps the slant of the commentary so far has led the reader to assume that the occurrence of most instances of

door-to-door sex is the responsibility of the salesman alone. It is true that many salesmen are also clever seducers of women;

much of the discussion up until this point has been spent in the proof of just that thesis. However, the facts of the case

history of Felix demand that attention be directed toward those situations in which it is the female client who actively

solicits the sexual favors of the door-to-door salesman. Some salesmen, particularly those like Felix who have taken up the

occupation more because of sheer economic necessity than native talent, seem to meet with an entirely different situation that

their more aggressive colleagues. Apparently, many women customers find these salesmen's relatively unpolished approaches so

sincere and unassuming that they take it upon themselves to request that acts of implicit prostitution take place.

The fact that such an obviously large potential market exists for the services of professional male prostitutes is a

sad testimony to the state of American middle-class marital relations. Felix was more than correct when he observed that "this

is a country of neglected housewives." As matters stand today, prostitution in any form is illegal. This may be quite

unfortunate, for although prostitution would hardly remedy the basic ills which seem to underlie the lack of sexual fulfillment

found in many marriages, it could go far in relieving some of the sexual tension which many times leads to domestic quarreling.

Ruth Dickson presents arguments in favor of legalized prostitution, in her contribution to Sexual Latitude: For and Against,

which could easily be applied specifically to male prostitution.

Girls who sell their bodies for a living are performing an important service for these men, and frequently for their

families, as well. Personally, I'd much prefer to have my man engage in a meaningless encounter with a prostitute when he's

away from home or he needs a change, than to have him become emotionally involved with a non-professional. I seriously doubt

that many wives would demand a divorce because of a husband's occasional, perhaps necessary, visit to a prostitute. I'm certain

that any sensible woman would choose that alternative over an extramarital love affair as a solution to every man's natural

desire for variety.

Whether or not the desire for sexual variety is "natural" is a moot point. Whether or not it is a trait exclusive to

males is open to still further question. The fact remains that such desires do exist among both males and females, and that, so

far, there have been no thoroughly convincing arguments as to just why those desires shouldn't be fulfilled.

Because of the social and legal status of prostitution today, the profession takes many covert forms. There seems to be

a demand for professional sex which can't be extinguished. This demand is apparently so deep-seated that it possesses a

momentum of its own which carries it toward fulfillment in spite of the conscious intentions of the consumers. In other words,

many varieties of prostitution exist which are not recognized as such by the participants in the transaction. Felix denied that

he was a male prostitute when the fact was brought to his attention by this study. In all probability, the sensibilities of the

females who requested Felix's services would be grossly offended if it was pointed out to them that, in effect, they were

enjoying the services of a "stud hustler" when they were having sexual relations with him. The recognition of most door-to-door

sex as a form of male heterosexual prostitution may necessitate a revision of the opinions commonly held with respect to the

incidence of this phenomenon since Alfred Kinsey and his associates, writing in Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, stated

parenthetically that "there is also a heterosexual prostitution in which females pay males for sexual relations, but this

situation is not common."

Many of the females that Felix ran across in the course of his normal workday were single, but the great majority of

the women who seemed to be most desperately in need of physical relations were married. This complicates the situation because

not merely one, but two proscribed activities come under consideration in these particular instances. To help clarify some of

the ethics of such promiscuous behavior on the part of married women, a quote from Albert Ellis's contribution to Sexual

Latitude: For and Against is included.

As I said in a famous paper given at the American Psychological Association's annual convention in 1967, there are many

unhealthy reasons for an individual's committing adultery. He or she may, for example, have low frustration tolerance, may be

hostile to his or her spouse, may be looking for false ego-bolstering, may be escaping facing real home or work problems, may

be sexually impotent, frigid, or otherwise disturbed, or may have ...

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