Am I Normal? – Cum Slave and Male Escort

One of my dominatrix clients is a businessman in his early 50s who likes to be treated like a whore and forced to eat his own cum. We’ve been doing sessions together for a year now, and over time we’ve become pretty good friends. Sometimes we hang out casually, just to chat. Like for example we’ll go have sushi and talk about Rihanna, and then afterward we’ll go back to the dungeon and I’ll ride him around like a horse. My sub (let’s call him Cum Slut) is always fun to talk to because he has endless crazy sex stories, starting from back when he first immersed himself in NYC’s S&M scene in the early 80s. Something I didn’t know about Cum Slut until recently, however, is that in his 20s he worked as a male escort. Edgy. I recently interviewed him about his prostitution days, and you can read the result below.

Slutever: So you were a male escort?
Cum Slut: Yeah, when I was in my twenties.

How did you get into doing sex work?
I worked as a parking lot attendant at a sex club on 34th Street called Plato’s Retreat. You should look it up some time. That place was like ancient Rome. They threw crazy swingers parties, there was a pool inside, all the rooms had beds in them, and one night of the week would be S&M night. While I had that job, a couple different times people who hung out at the club propositioned me, and those were my first experiences with prostitution.

Did you like working at the club?
Not really. I had to do a lot of clean up stuff, which wasn’t fun. One night somebody set a fire in one of the beds and the employees had to put it out. It was started a husband who was mad at his wife for fucking a bunch of guys. He wanted her to stop, but she wouldn’t stop and he got upset about it. She stopped when the fire broke out.

What year was this?
This was 1984, 85.

It’s weird that people were fucking strangers so freely during the height of the AIDS epidemic.
Yes, it was scary. Everybody was using condoms though.

So how did the people proposition you?
Well there was this one woman and her husband who I saw come into the club a few times. I was friendly with them, and the guy didn’t feel uncomfortable around me. One night they showed up and I parked their car and they tipped me $80. Now back then, that was a lot of money. And then at the end of the night when I bought their car back the woman just said, “So do you want take us home?”

That’s a good line.
Yeah it was. And off we went. The the next time they showed up they tipped me over $100 for parking–it was kind of like a ‘wink’–and I went back with them a second time.

How did you get further into prostitution from there?
Well after that I met this other woman named Anna. She was an escort, and she asked me if I would be her driver and security guard. How it usually works with escorts is that their agency sets them up with clients, and then they’re driven around from job to job by a bouncer type. In this case the agency actually provided the car as well. So I told her yeah, I would do it.

What was that like?
Basically I had a beeper that would tell me what addresses to take her to, and I got $25 an hour to drive her around for the evening, and I spent most of the time just waiting in the car on my own. For the first ten minutes that she was inside with a new client I’d have to be ready to jump, or to call the cops if something went wrong, but nothing ever went wrong. The agencies have this stuff on pretty heavy lock-down. Even back then they were screening the clients. Guys would have to show a drivers license and give information about where they worked–stuff like that. It was pretty worry-free. Or at least it was with this agency, I’m not sure how everybody else did it.

You never had one single problem?
No. I had a couple girls walk out of places. If they felt like a situation was weird, they would just leave and come back to the car. When the guys are weird or freak you out, you just have to trust your instincts and get out of there. But anyway, I ended up being the driver for this woman for like a year and a half, and at a certain point I started to go in and do scenes with her sometimes, if the client requested it. Or sometimes the client would be a couple and they’d want another couple, and that’s how I got back into sex work.

What was your role in the scenes?
I was the bull. The Dom. Amazing how things change, right?

Do you like being dominant?
Yeah, I’m a switch.

Wow, I would have never guessed that from the sessions you and I do together where you beg me for cock and ball torture. I’m a switch too.
You wouldn’t know from what I’ve told you. I would have guessed that you are a switch though. Also, I guess that’s pretty evident from your blog.

Lol true. So with Anna, was it a mindfuck that you spent so much time with her and were fucking each other so often? Did you end up liking each other?
Yeah we did. We ended up having a two month thing where we thought we might actually like each other, but because we were working together so often, something about the relationship was just off. I can’t explain it, I think there was just too much familiarity. When I first started driving her around all I wanted to do was fuck her. I would get sort of jealous when she would go in and see other guys. Then when our affair started, for the first couple weeks I thought I was in heaven, but it wore off fast because we always had to go back to work.

What was she like?
She had great taste and wore amazing clothes. Her winter coat–I’ll never forget it–was the most beautiful shearling wool winter coat I’ve ever seen. It was like what Vikings wore. It must have cost at least ten grand, and that was in the 80s. She once talked to me about how she did business, and she said, “I never talk about money. I just only go after the guys who I know have it.” Basically she would leave it up to her clients to decide how much to leave her, but she would never discuss money with them, because talking about money is awkward. That’s really what you’re striving for if you’re working as an escort–you want your clients to be the type who you know will treat you well, without you having to ask.

How long did you work with her?
About three years. But I ended up working on my own sometimes too.

How much did you make?
Back then it was like $175 an hour. I’d get $75 and the agency would get $100. I didn’t like splitting the money obviously, but I liked that it was safe, and that the agency would sort everything out and all I had to do was show up.

What else did you like about the job?
I looked at it like opening magic doors at night, where I would always see or hear something new. And getting head from guys was cool.

Why, are they better at it than girls?
Most are. In purely physical terms, anyway. Men just know what they’re working with. But for me, when I’m getting head from a woman, there’s the additional element that I might like her, which makes the sexual interaction better. I don’t have love for men in the same way that I do for women.

Do you think prostitution is a good job?
It depends how it’s done, like anything. But I think it definitely has an expiration date. I would see it taking a toll on some of the women over time. The job can result in a lot of compulsive behavior. Smoking and drinking especially, and drugs―all the things that are ‘the devil’ [laughs].

Well I can imagine that fucking a series of strangers is not the sort of thing you want to do sober.
Right, exactly.

And lastly, why do you think you are drawn to these extremes of sexuality?
Well, I listened to this really great interview on Howard Stern the other day. He was interviewing this gay man who’s now found God, but at one point he was doing really hardcore sex stuff–bondage scenes, pissing, lots of gangbangs, being punched in the face and knocked out, etc.–and the man was saying that he ritualized sex in order to learn about himself, that sex was about self-analysis. And I really understand that. I find sex very illuminating.

So what has sex taught you about yourself?
Well in an obvious way it’s taught me what turns me on, and what scenarios excite me. But to go deeper than that, I would say I’ve learned that I have a certain capability for compartmentalization. And that applies to things in my life far beyond sex. I’ve learned that as people, there are important aspects of ourselves that are always present, yet are not always evident.

Am I Normal? – High Class Escort

Photos of Madeline by Stacey Mark

Madeline is a 23-year-old prostitute. She’s been selling sex for more than two years, primarily sleeping with men she meets through sugar daddy websites. She talked to me about her life fucking Saudi princes, paid orgies, and the truth about men who pay for sex.

So how long have you been fucking people for money?
Madeline: Since I was 20. For a long time before that I’d had a prostitution fetish. I was living in London at the time, working as a nanny, and basically I crashed the family’s car. So I was looking on Craigslist for babysitting gigs to make extra cash to help them pay for it, and I noticed there were a few ads from older men looking for a “rendezvous.” Most of them were like sixty years old, but there was one guy who was 32 and offering £500 for an hour, so I emailed him and was like, “I’ve never done anything like this before, I have no idea if I’m even capable, but I’m interested.”

He was very polite and eased me through the whole thing. I asked him a million questions—literally down to “Do I have to act into you?” He just made me feel really comfortable. So I went through with it and I really, really liked it.

You just went and fucked him at his house or something?
No, we got a hotel. But basically after that I knew I could psychologically handle having sex for money–it wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. And then I came across an article about sugar daddy websites, and so I made a profile on one of the sites, just to see if the daddies were only looking for supermodel types, and I got loads to replies. That was more than two years ago, and I’ve been doing it ever since.

So you see sugar daddies, and you also work for an escort agency, right?
Yeah, but I only do the agency when I’m low on cash, because it’s a sure thing, and I know I can definitely make a certain amount in a night. Working for the agency is more standard prostitution–you’re given a driver/bodyguard who drives you around the city in a black car, and you see multiple clients in a row, who are all pre-booked for you by the Madam. But I’d much rather see an SD. It’s classier and more fun.

So what types of guys do you meet through sugar daddy sites and what do they want from you?
There’s generally two types of guys—I’ve nicknamed them. There’s the ‘Bleeding Heart,’ and the ‘Contract Sugar Daddy.’ The ‘Bleeding Heart’ actually thinks he’s in a relationship with you and wants you to generally be attracted to him, and wants to spend time together and for you to have sex with him. Those types are always like, “I’m always really generous with my girlfriends so I don’t see why this is any different. I would take care of you anyway, so the fact that we met on this site doesn’t make a difference for me,” sort of thing. Sometimes they even want you not to see other people. And the Contract Sugar Daddies are more business about it, and pay you a set fee each time they see you, or give you an “allowance” of a set amount each month.

So with the Bleeding Heart types do you have to “act” a bit more?
Yeah, you need to cuddle, you need to sleep over.

You sleep over? Eww.
I know it’s really awful, I hate doing it. I can’t sleep! But I tried the whole, “I can’t sleep over, I don’t sleep well” thing, but sometimes they won’t call you back if you don’t. I feel like I’ve missed out on some opportunities by not sleeping over. I’m thinking of investing in sleeping aids.

I feel like I’d be scared the guy would murder me in my sleep.
I think by the time you’ve been comfortable enough to lock yourself in a room with someone and get naked, you’ve committed. And by the way, guys you meet in bars for one-night-stands can murder you in your sleep too! I’d rather not sleep over, but if it means getting a more reliable SD then I’ll do it.

So have you ever met an SD who you were legitimately into?
Definitely. There was this one guy who was a Saudi prince. He flew me to Paris first-class and put me in a five star hotel. When I got there, there were four dozen roses and a bottle of Dom Perignon from my birth year. And at that point I hadn’t even talked to him on the phone, we had just emailed and sent pictures. When I finally saw him in person I was nervous because he was so good looking. He looked like Aladdin. His deal was that he wanted to meet me in Paris once every other month and he would give me 30 grand over a six month period.

That’s crazy. So what happened?
We had dinner and then went up to the room and fucked a couple of times. I was really into it but he was kind of insecure like, “I know I’m good but I’m not that good.” I felt like I had hit the jackpot.

So did the 6 months deal pan out?
Well, no. What happened was that he gave me five grand on the first night, and the next morning he went to Cannes to do renovations on a house. So I just stayed in Paris, and he was like, “Charge everything to the hotel and I’ll take care of it,” so I invited friends over and we would just order room service and watch TV and jump on the bed. But after a few days, when he still wasn’t back, I got an email saying, “I’m sorry darling, this is my first transgression against my wife and I don’t feel good about it.” It was totally fair enough, but it sucked as well!

So do you have a reliable SD now?
I’ve been seeing a lot of this one guy who runs a fashion company. He wants to dress me up as his doll and put me in high fashion shit, so that’s cool. He’s really fun to hang out with, and actually sort of has a gay vibe. He texted me today with a plan for our next date saying, “We’ll go to the spa and get mani/pedis and then we’ll go home and have sex and then we’ll go shopping and get you all dressed up and then we’ll go to Book of Mormon and then we’ll go to a fabulous dinner.” LOL. Like, can’t complain there!

But you “date” more than one SD at once, right?
When I first signed up I was really ‘girl next door’ about it and would only talk to one person at a time. But you kill so much time that way. It’s not like I’m trying to have five guys at once–I’m too lazy for that. Ideally I would just have one reliable guy. But these guys are so unpredictable and flaky. Like for example I had this one guy who was amazing. We met a total of four times and we never had sex–we’d just have dinner or get drinks–but every time we met he’d give me a thousand dollars in an envelope.

Wait, why didn’t you have sex?
Because he did but he was, like, getting to know me or whatever.

Yeah. So the first meeting we just met for drinks and then he had to go back to work, but he handed me an envelope. The standard for a non-sex meeting is usually around $200 to $250. I’m not saying the majority of guys do that, but if they want to show you that they’re serious about being a sugar daddy, and that they’re capable, they usually give you a gift. So anyway that’s what I expected, and then I looked in the envelope and saw a grand and was like OMG.

That’s insane. Was he good looking?
Yeah! He was really cute. He wasn’t my type but he was like 35, 6’2, blond hair, Tom Ford suit, nice glasses. He was totally someone I could take out and not be embarrassed by. He wasn’t “cool,” like he doesn’t work at Vice or whatever, but he was fine.

He wasn’t alt.
Defs not alt. But I was really pumped on it going somewhere. So we went on four dates and every time it was a thousand dollars, and then on the last date we made out and he was like, “I’m really happy I met you,” but then I just never heard from him again.

That’s so weird. Do you think he found another girl?
Who knows. That’s what I mean, these guys are so flaky. Maybe he was married. If he found another girl that would have been totally fine. The thing about these kinds of relationships is that they’re so direct and honest–you’re basically a commodity, so guys can just tell you if they don’t want to see you anymore and it’s not a big deal–which is why I was so confused when he disappeared with no explanation at all.

This seems like it’s a huge part of your life. To what extent do you keep it a secret? Do your friends and parents know what you do?
Most of my friends do. I have no filter! Especially when I’m blacked-out, lol. I always end up telling most of the guys I’m dating in my “real life” about my job too, which is probably why I haven’t had a boyfriend in a couple years. I would really like to find someone to date who didn’t mind my work though, and for the right person I would probably be willing to work less. Also, my parents know what I do because my sister told them. Afterward I got a call from my dad. He literally said, “Hey honey, I heard you’re turning tricks.”

Oh god.
Well, they care, but they’re hippies, so they’re sort of ok with it. Once my dad was really low on cash and struggling to pay his bills, and I was home visiting him and felt really bad. So I went on the site and this guy was offering me $1,000 for a blow job, so he picked me up and I sucked him off and was back like 30 min later, and just handed my dad the cash. He started crying actually, he couldn’t really deal. But he was also like, “What the fuck, you were only gone half an hour!” He could NOT believe anyone would pay me that much. I was like, “Uhh… Dad, that’s actually weirdly insulting.”

That’s so awkward, we need to move on. So do you ever sleep with other escorts, like in an American Psycho threesome sort of way, but without the chainsaw?
Yeah, actually I have one client who only sleeps with more than woman at a time, so with him I only do threesomes. He always brings the other girl and gives us each $700, and the whole thing takes about an hour. He’s so sweet, I love him. He grew up in a really poor family, so it’s a rags to riches story.

Do you like the threesomes?
Well threesomes are cool because you only have to do half the work. But there’s a bit more pressure, especially because I never know what the other girl’s going to look like, and I’m always nervous she’s going to hate me. I have more confidence with wooing men than I do women. I can’t tell if a girl is thinking, “I can’t wait for this to be over.” I guess it’s an insecurity thing.

Do clients ever want you to do really kinky shit?
I recently had this one client who’s an amazing German guy, early thirties, top lawyer in his field, speaks five languages, and he was staying at the Ritz and we would go for really nice dinners. The sex with him was really weird and perverted and hot. He’s really into lactation. He was like, “You might be a little young but maybe three years from now, if you work on it and milk your tits, you’ll be able to lactate.” And he’d always be working my tits. One time he was lying in bed, completely naked with a boner and a pillow on top of his face, and he was like, “This is my newest fetish,” and I got on top of him and was fucking him while suffocating him. It was just fun, adventurous, interesting sex.

But I’m semi confused because for the guys it’s like—you’re good-looking, you’re successful, you’re rich, so why can’t you just fuck someone without having to pay them? Are they just awful people?
No, they’re usually fine. They’re just too busy. And they have standards. It’s hard to just meet someone at a bar who’s hot and smart and who you can have an interesting conversation with, who also wants to fuck you on the first night.

And they know they will find hot and smart girls on an SD site?
Well they can read your profile. If your profile is written well and witty and your photos are hot, that’s a good start.

So how much money do you make per month?
It’s so month-to-month. But I had one arrangement that was 7.5K a month just from one guy.

Really? Do you have a huge savings?
No, I have zero savings! You think it’s so much money until you have it. I think my biggest problem was that I felt almost guilty about how much money I had, since my friends are obviously all young and poor, so I would just pay for everything. Also I had just moved to New York so I was going out every night until 4am, and basically paying for everyone. And my apartment was $2350 a month. That was part of the deal–he was married so he wanted me to have my own place and he asked that it be within four stops of Grand Central.

How long did that arrangement last?
Four months, and he told me it would last that long right from the beginning, which was cool.

So has whoredom been a pretty positive experience throughout, or has there ever been times when you felt used or in danger or whatev?
That’s so subjective, if you’re asking me that versus another sugar baby, you’re going to get very different answers. One of my closest friends signed up and was getting slimy messages and was not really into it, but it takes a lot for me to be shocked or grossed out. Also I sort of get off on the riskiness of it. I genuinely love my job.

Would there be a reason that you would say no to sleeping with a client?
No. The only time I walked out of a meeting was when an agency sent me somewhere really shady–like a drug den, and not the baller swag type of drug den.

Do you have personal rules for yourself?
Always use condoms, I always meet SDs in public before going to their houses.

What would you say is the best part of the job, besides the money?
You get to meet people outside of your social circle, which I like. And also this job has led me to discover that there is a silver lining to everyone. There are guys I go on dates with who in “real life” I wouldn’t look twice at, but when I’m forced to sit down and talk to them, I always find something endearing about their personality. Like maybe the guy know tons about the soil in Argentina and how it affects the climate… I can get down with that, I can take home some trivia.

So basically being a whore makes you rich and smart.
Totally. Or at least I know way more about the stock market than most 23-year-old girls living in Williamsburg.


Pic by Sally Mann

People often ask me, both in interviews and during casual conversation, if I sleep with people for money. Or sometimes they skip the asking part and just assume that I do, or at least that I have. The truth is, I have been paid for sex only once, and it was by accident, and the one time I actually tried to make it happen, I failed.

Back when I was squatting in London, during the much-blogged-about “Squallyoaks” period of my life, I lived for a while with a girl named Lydia whose life’s ambition was to become a whore. I found this very amusing. I was always trying to explain to her that prostitution is rarely a profession one aspires toward, but more often one that is fallen into, likely out of desperation. (I of course understand that this is not always the case–I’m aware of this random thing called feminism–and that many people enjoy making money in exchange for sex, but I’m generalizing.) Still, Lydia, in all of her glorious airheadedness, somehow managed to constantly fail in her attempts to whore herself out. At first, it was clear she was aiming too high on the high-class escort ladder (her daily attire was far more True Romance than Belle de Jour). Other times she’d ask for too much money, or make crazy demands of potential first time clients (“I’ll only fuck on red satin sheets”), or she’d make appointments and then accidentally go into a K-hole and not show up. The list goes on. I constantly made fun of her for this, to her annoyance. However, after my sole attempt to be a hooker turned out to be a disaster, I suddenly felt bad for having been such a snob, and, whatever… unsupportive. “I’m so sorry Lydia,” I wrote on her FB wall in the hours after my failure. “Turns out being a whore is a lot harder than I originally thought. xoxo”

But I’ll start with the story about the time that I was paid for sex, accidentally. I’ve actually already written a detailed post about this, but I’ll paraphrase it for you. It was just a few days after I moved to New York, about two and a half years ago now, and out of a combination of loneliness, horniness, drunkenness and desperation, I put up an ad up on the ‘casual encounters’ section of Craigslist. Out of all of the potential, bottom-of-the-barrel suitors who responded to my ad, the most appealing by far was a 32 year old Hasidic Jew named Isaac who described himself as “tall, slender and clean.” To make a long story short, Isaac came cover, came in my mouth, and then asked, “How much?” Me, being the innocent and sexually naive person that I am, asked, “How much what?” He responded to this with a puzzled glance, then said, “How much money?”

Clearly, he thought I was a prostitute, but I wholeheartedly had not considered this until the moment he said the word “money.” I guess I hadn’t thought about whether or not it would be unusual for 25 year old middle-class white girl to be causally trolling Craigslist at 4am, searching for some honest, no-strings attached sex with a creepy, married, Orthodox stranger. As I hadn’t planned on how much money I would ask for, since I hadn’t planned on asking at all, when the question was raised I panicked and said, “Uh… $50.” After I said it I instantly realized, upon seeing the delight in his eyes, that I should have asked for way more. But whatev, it’s 50 bucks more than I’d ever been paid for sex before.

The time I tried to be a hooker and failed happened about three months before this, while I was living in London. I was sleeping with this older guy, a 45 year old photographer named Elliott. He beat my up and stuff, like sexually. It was cool. I suppose, in hindsight, he was the person who first introduced me to S&M. The sex wasn’t that intense, but there was definitely the occasional ball-gag and nipple clamp involved. What he liked most was to mentally dominate me, and to “punish” me if I ever disobeyed him. Like this one time he invited me over his house, and I showed up 45 minutes late, so he refused to fuck me and instead just tied me to his dresser and jerked-off onto my face. Stuff like that. And he loved making me beg for sex, it was his favorite thing ever. I like it too, although I pretended I didn’t.

So anyway, I was dating Elliott. Or we weren’t really dating, technically, we were just sleeping together. I asked him to be my boyfriend like 500 times but he always said no. But whatever, that’s not the point. The point is, a few months into the relationship he told me that he was going to be my pimp, and pimp me out to all of his friends. He didn’t ask me, he told me. I obliged, because it sounded kind of hot, and because Elliot was really handsome and well dressed and rich–“old money” British family–so I assumed all his friends would be handsome and well dressed and rich too. Score!

I was really excited about my first hooker appointment. Elliott explained how the whole thing would go down to me over the phone: “He’s my old friend, a total gentlemen,” Elliott said. “He has rented you for one hour. Show up to his apartment at 8pm. He can do whatever he wants to you, but no anal.” I said alright, sounds glamorous.

So I showed up, and just as I had hoped, the guy was really good looking. Late thirties, tall, sandy blond hair, total prep school vibes. We talked for about two minutes, during which I made boring conversation, asking him how he knew Elliott, etc., but it was clear that he had no interest in talking, so I gave up and we started making out. Then some other stuff happened, normal foreplay, whatever. Eventually we start fucking, and obviously I wanted to be fucked in the ass, solely because Elliott had told me it was forbidden. So I said, “Elliott said said he doesn’t want me to do anal, but I’m up for it if you are,” and the guy responded, “Since when is this about what Elliot wants?” So that was that.

The sex good, no complaints. I was really into the guy physically. Like if I saw him in a bar, I probably would have flirted. My only complaint was that he was a bit too nice. Like, during sex, if you want to spank someone, you just do it. You don’t ask them first, because by asking you completely negate the effect of the spank. And if you spank someone and he/she doesn’t like it, it’s no big deal, because he/she will just ask you to stop. Ya know? (#LifeAdvice) So yeah, this guy was the sort of guy who would ask before spanking me. A bit too British, in the bad way, if you know what I mean. And then at one point he was fucking me, and I began to dish out some mild dirty talk–“I love the way your dick feels in my ass,” etc., no big deal. And in the midst of this I said, “You think I’m a whore, don’t you?” But like in a sexy-voice, porn way, ya know? But when I said it he immediately stopped, flipped me around, looked me in the eyes and said so sincerely, “No, not at all! I think you’re great!” lol

So the next day I called up Elliot and told him the story, minus the anal part, and he loved it, and told me I did a great job. Then I asked, “So how much do I get?” And he said, “How much what?” and I said, “How much money?” (You see a pattern appearing?) He then, seemingly confused, explained that he never once mentioned money, and that he was sorry if I had assumed otherwise. I then started screaming about how of course I thought there was going to be money involved, since it’s generally implied you will be paid when your pimp sets you up to fuck strangers. “Why on earth would I fuck your friends for free?” I shouted. “Because I told you to,” he responded, calmly, “and you will continue to fuck my friends, whenever I tell you to.” I told him no, I would never do it again, unless I was paid. But of course I did, two more times over the course of the next couple months, for free, because he told me to. God, I can be so weak :)

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Danny’s Boys

All images by Danny Fields
I interviewed my friend and hero, Danny Fields, for the current issue of the radical sex mag, Richardson. The article is pasted below, along with a selection of Danny’s amazingly hot and beautiful Polaroids, which have never been published until now! I wrote a different article about Danny last year, but that was mainly about his rock n’ roll photography and his life as a punk icon, where this is an article about his pornography. Enjoy!

As the long-standing manager of the Ramones, Danny Fields was a legend of the New York punk scene. He was also the man responsible for signing the Stooges, MC5, and Nico, editor of the iconic 16 magazine, and the journalist who caused global hysteria when he quoted John Lennon saying he was “more famous than Jesus.” In the 90s, Fields catalogued the glory days with the release of Please Kill Me: an Oral History of Punk, but he’s yet to address his other passion from the era.

In the 1970s Danny Fields started making pornography. Production was straightforward: bringing back groups of boys to his apartment and giving scant direction, he captured whatever ensued on a simple Polaroid camera. Forty years later, his collection of images now reaches into the thousands. He keeps them in his closet, tucked safely away in a gigantic storage container, roomy enough to sleep two grown men with minimal discomfort.

“They were all prostitutes,” says Fields of the boys in the pictures. “Well, prostitutes sounds too glamorous; they were hustlers. I’d pick then up in the street or at prostitute bars, and then one always seemed to bring the others. You’d pay them forty dollars or something, and they’d pretty much do whatever you told them to. This was before AIDS and the internet, so people weren’t so paranoid. A lot of them are dead now, and a lot of them—I never even knew their names.”

Fields is less interested in the actual act of penetration and more interested in everything else—enemas, dildos, stretching, kissing, piss, etc. “You can see fucking in movies,” he explains, “so it’s not that exciting. I’d rather watch them play doctor.” As he reminiscences through a photo album, Fields points out a photo of two Native American boys sitting naked on a couch. “These two were brothers,” he says. “Well, one day they were brothers and then the next day they’d say, ‘Actually we’re not brothers, we’re just from the same tribe.’ And then the next day they’d be back to being brothers again. What was I supposed to do, give them a blood test? Either way, they made a great couple.”

When asked if he was ever in love with any of the boys in the pictures, Fields looks mildly disgusted. “I was never in love with any of these boys. Sure, I liked some of them more than others, but I’ve never been in love with anyone in my entire life. I believe that love exists—my God, I’ve read 800 pages of Proust on what it’s like to be in love—but I’ve never gotten there. I tried having a boyfriend once, but then he always wanted to talk when I was trying to read. It didn’t work out.”

Fields asserts that the photos are a testament to his belief that the best sex is the kind you pay for. “I just think it’s best to fuck whores,” he says. “I’ve never been in a situation where being emotionally involved with a person has made the sex better. While I’m fucking someone I care about them, and that’s enough for me—that’s where it means something. I want sex to be so intense that I’m not thinking about anything else. The loving part is distracting: who’s going to pay the rent, who didn’t clean the bathroom, that kind of stuff.” He shrugs, “After I cum I just want a trap door to open and whoever I’m with to fall through the floor.”