"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."
— Henry David Thoreau
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NAME ADDRESS . CITY ZIP STATE _
STUDSTORE
15 Harriet Street San Francisco, CA 94103
Please Charge To My: MASTER CHARGE BANKAMERICARD (VISA)
CIII INTERBANK NO. Good Thru
Total for Merchandise Sales Tax Postage & Handling ($1 per item) TOTAL ENCLOSED
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IN SEARCH OF OLDER
DADDY'S BOY BY MAIL
When we placed the ad in Drummer my lover and I didn't know what kind of response we would get. A few weeks later the letters started to trickle in but there was only one that we found interesting: Dear Sirs:
I am enclosing a picture for you to judge me by. As you can see I have a good build and a nine inch cut cock. I've never tried out the S&M scene but I've had some fantasies. If you are willing to do me over and take control, then give me a call.
Your fantasies not mine, Craig
From the picture we judged Craig to be around six feet tall. He had a swimmer's body with pecs and nipples that looked succulently ripe for milking. His tool was hung and thick and, from what little could be seen of it, his ass looked like a large, smooth, taut melon. And if one could forget his body for a few moments, his face was a chiseled work of art. If anything , it made him look far younger than the 21-year-old requirement our ad had called for. All in all he became our top choice.
When Craig arrived at our door he was dressed the way he had been ordered to appear - in a towel! To say the least the photograph had done him a grave injustice. His black hair and piercing green eyes, his red, nicely-swollen nipples, stood out against his creamy complexion. My lover and I both got instant stiff poles!
He dropped the towel as ordered the moment he stepped through the doorway, revealing another feature that had not been photographed to its best advantage. I couldn't wait to begin playing Tarzan!
Taking Craig into our well-stocked playroom we passed a joint around and asked him about his fantasies . Though nervous, he was able to relate what turned him on the most. Bondage, nipple and genital torture, geting fucked and being photographed were his bag. But his ultimate fantasy was just to turn himself over to us and let the chips fall where they might. We were to go about our business unaffected by hot ass but I sure knew I was going to give it a damn good try!
That afternoon we did it all. There were dildos and double cocks up that hole of his and we photographed him getting rammed at both ends. And, as the afternoon wore on, we watched him come a couple more times. The first time we had him spread eagle, face up, tied and available. My lover was nibbling on his balls and I was working on his tits. He began to moan and his body signaled that he was on the verge of coming. I looked down and his cock was jerking- even though no jism was coming out. He may have shot dry then but the next time, with the hot wax dripping on his balls, the stuff flew half-way across the room!
That evening we took Craig to a certain establishment we patronize and tethered him to the bar-naked as a new-born babe, but not quite in as good condition. Though he could hardly hold his head up, he had no trouble at all with his cock. It was bigger and harder than it had been all day. So we decided to give him one final treat before calling it a night. Several of the patrons held him while my lover and I branded him with our initials. For the first time it sounded as if his screams of protest were for real! He bucked like a stallion, but I couldn't tell if it was from the red-hot iron or from the load he shot. Either way it was a thing of beauty to watch.
We could have left him to the rest of the guys but we decided he had probably had enough for his first time around; after all, he was just a novice. So we just made him lick his cold come off the floor and we left.
At home we gave him back his towel and shoved him out the front door.
Since then we've answered the other letters and have a steady run of repeats going. It's hard to tell just who has been worth our time the most. But when I find out I'll be sure and let you know. As for right now, Craig's on his way over. This time he's bringing along
DON'T KEEP DADDY WAITING
I decided long ago that I wanted to pursue my career goals and maintain a straight life-style- not associate with men sexually until I could find that one perfect son, the one to whom I could devote my time and talents to train him and make him just exactly what I want him to be. I need to rely on him to fulfil all my needs so that only he and I know of our special relationship. I would never want to humiliate him in public or even acknowledge our relationship in public because it must be so special that only the two of us could share it.
Since I will care for my son so very much, it will be necessary that I train him well. He will, at times, know the full fury of my belt and paddle on his bare ass as he is bent over my knees. Only through the proper and judicious use of woodshed discipline can he truly be my son. Whenever he does anything which displeases me in the slightest he will receive my wrath and punishment. Änytime I feel that he needs punishment to correct his attitude, prepare him for some future task, or just to fulfil a need that I see in him that I may not be able to put into words, he must accept that punishment without question. I must punish him for that punishment is proof of my love and concern that he become what I want and need him to become. He must become trained to meet and satisy my needs in every way without hesitation: sexual, spiritual, physical, or just to spank him good.
I expect my son to spit polish and clean my boots until we can both be proud of the job he has done.
whatever pleas he might come up with or whatever noise he might make. Of course, we aimed to please— ourselves.
The first thing we did was to string him up to the ceiling hooks and anchor his feet to the floor. We then tied a piece of leather around his cock and balls; they soon turned a glistening reddish-purple. After that we put a couple of suction cups on those half-inch projections hanging out from the bottoms of his pecs.
My lover got out the shaving equipment and that soon broke the spell Craig had been in. He said something about having a girl friend. "Please don't shave me," he whimpered. That was his first mistake. The crotch hair went first, then the underarms, followed by the hair on his chest and legs. And then we shaved his head, including the eyebrows. Well, the poor guy cried like a baby - but that rock of his got bigger and bigger. And that was all we needed to know.
We pulled off the suction cups and attached alligator clips to his tits, which by then were standing out at least an inch. We told him if he was man enough to stand the pain for one minute without making a sound that would be it. But he broke after only twenty seconds.
So, lesson number two. I strapped a dildo-gag to his head. Maybe that would help him be quiet. Then I took one nipple and my lover took the other. Working independently, it didn't take long before we had pierced his tits, inserted bars through each one, and capped them with end knobs secured with permanent bond glue. We heard no more whimpering after that.
My lover put a rubber over Craig's pecker and jerked him off until he shot, filling the end with thick white fluid. I took some pictures while my lover set the rubber aside for future use. We then took a couple of belts and started to give that boy some beauty marks. I took the back while my lover worked the front. I lashed the boy's ass and, when he strained forward in pain, he got it on the chest, stomach and legs. And that would send him flying back in my direction.
When we got tired of whipping him, I took him down and strapped him over a saw horse bench. His eyes widened as he watched us coat our cocks with his come, taken from the rubber. I removed his gag but, before he could do more than take a breath, replaced it with my lover's cock. He fucked Craig's face and I fucked his welt-covered ass. Talk about tight! I wasn't sure I would ever be able to get my fist up that cute his brother. At least he says it's his brother. Is there no end to what a person has to think up? Oh well, such is the problem one has to put up with when they place an ad in Drummer.
Toma Palm Springs, CA
A SON TO SHARE
My son is between the ages of legal to 35. Dad is 41. My son is as tall as nature allowed, but isn't fat because he knows Dad's aversion to excess weight. My son is clean shaven or may have a moustache or a moust-ache and neatly trimmed beard. He appreciates his dad's well toned body and is always eager to service any and all parts on demand.
Whatever else my son may be wearing, he'll always be in boots.
My son takes Dad's prick down his throat and up his ass. He also loves Dad's piss. He keeps his dad happy by participating in Dad's assorted games - SM, BD, CB, TT, and, if my son is willing, FF. He also knows his dad grooves on leather.
My son is independent yet subordinate to his dad. And, like his dad, his look combines that of biker, cowboy, logger, preppie, and construction worker.
He'll be in levis, not designer jeans.
My son is capable of carrying out his and his dad's fantasies. He prides himself on being my son because he knows that every day with his dad is Father's Day!
Stafford, VA
FLORIDA DAD AVAILABLE
I read with interest your articles and letters about Drummer Daddies. I would like to be a Drummer Daddy to someone 18-20 years of age, someone with whom I can share life's daily joys and sorrows, go to the shows with and maybe to the bars (I am a non-drinker and go for companionship), go fishing with and take vacations with.
Someone who will contribute to the house but also someone who, if he steps out of line, will be punished— not too severely, as this is a father-son relationship, not a slave-master one. Preferably someone who is gay and if so inclined will let love take over to share one's self with each other, not as an obligation but in mutual admiration.
Is there someone out there like this? If so, I would sincerely like to hear from him. F.S.
Orlando, FL
Then his tongue will slowly move up my leg where, through my levis, he will gently make love to the object of his affection. When I am ready he will be permitted to slowly unzip my faded levis with his teeth and, using his moist tongue, gently remove first one ball and then the other - and finally my firm hard throbbing cock. I will then either face-fuck him with all the roughness I can muster or permit him to gently suck each drop of my precious cum. In any event he will be expected to swallow each and every drop. His mouth will stand ready to take each golden bead of piss and beg for more. After a time he will want to service my ass so that I no longer have need of toilet paper. But that training will take time, patience and mutual trust.
My son will, of course, be shaved of all body hair except his head. I may permit him to work and give to me whatever he earns since, of course, I will take care of his needs. He may only work as long as it does not affect the performance of his domestic duties or interfere with his being available when I need him.
I am hoping that my dreams and desires will come true, that you are the person I have been waiting for. Write and tell me that you are the one. After all, if you keep me waiting, I'll just have to punish you for it.
I.T.R. Virginia
WANTS A HOT DADDY
I have been buying your magazine for a year or so; it is a great publication. I was glad to see you do a spread on Drummer Daddies. I was never close to my father and have been looking for an older man for some time. Someone to be my father.
I have found that most of these older men have been hurt so much that they don't want to settle down or they are looking for some goodlooking cute bean-pole . I am very tired of the bars and one-nighters. I have really thought about giving up altogether. I am 27 years old, 6'2", 190 lbs, 36" waist, 7½" hard cock, beard, moustache, hairy tight ass. Is there a hairy Master out there looking for a good son(slave) to own, a son that needs a little love and a man to put him in place? I am very serious and want to obey and give him pleasure.
Please print this so I may find a Hot Daddy and I don't have to give up. It would make this lonely slave happy and maybe I would get lucky and find someone hot like you daddies Roger Mayhew, Together Daddy
(Drummer 54), Carl Carlson.
C.M. Orlando, FL
"DRUMMER DADDIES" HAS GENERATED MORE MAIL THAN ANY SINGLE ITEM IN DRUMMER HISTORY. SEND YOUR STORY, FANTASY AND / OR PICTURE NOW TO: ROBERT PAYNE C / O DRUMMER, 15 HARRIET / SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94103
DELIVERY
Cast: Billy, Frankie, The Man, Lady. Setting: The play takes place on a rainy night in Frankie's room. Everything is dingy and worn and somehow a little cockeyed.
The sound of heavy rain in the darkness. The front door opens with Billy under a shaft of amber light, peering in, soaking wet and toting a welcome basket.
Billy: Hello? (flicks the light on.) Anybody home? (He enters. The closed in room catches him.) My God. It's like an oven in here. (He tries the window. It's stuck. The door slams shut.) Jesus Christ! What is this? (To the bathroom door.) Frankie? You in there? Suppertime! I brought you some supplies … It looks like you might need them. (Nothing.) Now where'd he go on such a stinking night? (To the table with the basket.) And I brought you your favorite. (With a chuckle.) The old fox and his goodies. (Takes off his jacket.) God. Where is some air? (He tries the window again.) Sonofabitch. (Sigh. Looks around the room. With sarcasm.) Jesus. What a fucking toilet.
(The front door opens with Frankie clutching a bouquet of blue daisies.)
Frankie: Wha?! Billy: Surprise!
Frankie: Billy?! What are you doing here?
How apropos.
Frankie: How did you even get in here?
That door was locked.
Billy: Oh, your landlady was very obliging . She just layed there: You've got to be kidding. What are you doing in a place like this? It's so— what the hell do you call it?
Frankie: Mine, and I don't want you here. How did you find me anyway? 1 …
Billy: Josie clued me in.
Frankie: Josie. I should've figured.
Billy: He said he saw you.
Frankie: Loyal friend of the family. Right?
Billy: Yes. He's concerned. He also said you look like hell.
Frankie: Well, now you saw me, so get out. (To the table with the flowers.)
Billy: Hey
Frankie: Can't you take a hint?
Billy: How you doin'? Long time no see. (Frankie holds out the basket.) Oh right. (Grabbing it.) I brought us some provisions for the storm. I thought maybe we could, uh, wait it out together. They say it's gonna be a humdinger. Dine, like we usta, by a flickering…
Frankie: This is a joke. You're pulling a fast one on me, right?
Billy: What joke? Aren't you even glad to see me? It's been over a month. What happened to you? You just took off?
A PLAY BY C.D. ARNOLD
I groan in anguish For pain present and pain to come; Where shall I see rise The star of my deliverance?
Prometheus Bound Aeschylus
Nothing. Jesus. Isn't that a little selfish? Frankie: What's new. Huh?
Billy: Don't be flip. I was worried about VOU.
Frankie: Flip? You call this flip? (The room.) This is dead serious, Billy
Billy: Well, you could've called. You could've been a little considerate. That's all.
Frankie: I told you I was going. You knew that.
Billy: You also said you were going to Somolia to feed the starving. Or to Calcutta
Frankie: All right.
Billy: You live in a dream world, Frankie. You can't even take care of yourself, how are you going to help anybody else? These great— nebulous plans to save the world, and look at you. With what? And who are you going to save up here? Huh? Your landlady? Believe me, I don't think she's interested.
Frankie: (Pause. Airily sarcastic.) It's good to see you again, Billy.
Billy: (With a chuckle, going to him.) Hey. Merry Christmas. Guess what's in the basket.
Frankie: Christmas is over two months ago. This is February. This is nothing. Billy: Valentine's Day then. What the fuck. Happy Valentine's Day, Frankie. 1 found you. Peek a boo. Be my Valentine?
Frankie: (Shaking his head with a chuckle.) You're nuts. Anyway, I have people coming over, and I don't think you'd appreciate them.
Billy: People? Here? Who? What people?
Frankie: Forget it. You don't know them.
Billy: So what do I care then? Come on. Kick your rubbers off. Relax. Here. I made them especially for you. (With the basket. Pause. Nothing. Lowering the basket.)All right. So we had some words. Big deal. People have words all the time. Who was listening? I thought for sure you would've gotten over it by now. Come to your senses. When Josie told me you were here, I couldn't believe him.
Frankie: Surprise.
Billy: Why? (a look, then Frankie walks away and starts arranging the flowers.) Muffin misses you too. You should've seen her. Yesterday she… Frankie: Oh come on. Now you're bringing up the dog?
Billy: (Pause. A sigh.) Since when are you into flowers? You never bought flowers before.
Frankie: They're for the place. I'm thinking of fixing it up. You're not the only interior decorator around. Chief cook and bottle washer. Mister Know It All
Billy: Well, you'll need more than a bunch of cheap dyed daisies for this place.
Frankie: Fuck you. Billy: So. How's your poetry coming, at least? Your volume. The new Rimbaud.
Frankie: It's…coming. Billy: Good. I mean, I'd hate to see you waste all this suffering. Can I hear one then? Do you have a new one I can hear? An ode for a rainy night?
Frankie: (A deep breath.) All right. I'll tell you. The other day? It was kinda balmy out. Remember?
Billy: What about it?
Frankie: Everybody thinkin' winter was over. Walkin' around in their shirt- sleeves. Well, there I was, sitting in the park soaking up some sun, listening to this - guy on a flute, when all of a sudden outta nowhere this, thing started flapping up in my face. (With a chuckle.) At first I thought it was a God damn pidgeon attacking me… But, it turned out to be only a scrap of paper. Jesus… Anyway, as I sat back down, I happened to glance down at it, and there scrawled across it in this big black print, it said- "Deliveries- Free," and right below it was a phone number.
Billy: What kind of deliveries? Frankie: So I called it. (Pause.)
Billy: And?
Frankie: "What do you deliver?" I said, and he said, it was a guy, "What do you want?" and I said, "Anything?" and he said- "Yep." (Pause.)
Billy: So?
Frankie: So I have guests coming over.
Billy: What did you say?
Frankie: I have guests coming over. Billy: I mean when he said yeah, what did you say? The delivery. I'm curious. Is it going to be a gang bang or what? What am I going to be missing here?
Frankie: (With a shrug.) You get the rain
Billy: You are nuts. You're slipping through my fingers here, and there's nothing I can do, is there? Poems. Pieces of paper attacking you. You're getting weirder, Frankie. You're getting to be a real basket case, you know that? Jesus Christ, Man, I took care of you! You're half my life! What … ?! (He heaves a sigh. He's dying.) Jesus. It's those fuck-ing seven forty sevens. That's what it is. They made it too easy. Nobody holds on anymore.
Frankie: So I said to the guy- I want a field of blue daisies as far as the eye could see- a pale blue sea swaying in the wind, and right there in the middle of it, in all his splendor- a fucking god… My saviour.
(The Man's light comes up. It's a ghostly blue. He's in black leather. He is muscular and handsome beyond handsome.)
Frankie: You're here.
Billy: Who?
The Man: Who's the bozo?
Frankie: Oh, just a friend. He was leaving . You've got to go now, Billy. He's here. (To The Man.) You're alone. Where is she?
Billy: Who's here? Frankie: Blue daisies.
Billy: You're kidding. Where?
The Man: You didn't say nothin' about no orgy here. Frankie: Oh no.
Billy: Are you all right? Who are you talking to?
Frankie: You gotta go, Billy… Now. Billy: (Looks around. Back to Frankie.) That's it? Like that? (Frankie ignores him.) Right. (Gets his coat.) I guess there's nothing more I can say, is there? You can't say I didn't give you a chance though. I mean, I really hate like hell to leave you here, but … you know where
Frankie: Yeah.
Billy: You sure you're okay?
Frankie: Fine.
Billy: Don't forget the basket … Believe me, it's from my heart.
Frankie: Thank you.
Billy: (In the doorway.) Oh. By the way. I had this- dream the other night? (The door slams in his face. Pause. The Man comes into the room. Frankie stares at the closed door.) The Man: (With a seductive grin.) Hey.
Frankie: Hey.
The Man: How you doin'?
Frankie: Fine.
The Man: Long time no see.
Frankie: Yeah.
The Man: Well? What are you waiting for?
Frankie: What?
The Man: I'm soaking wet. Frankie: Ah. Right. Of course. (Fetching him a towel.)
The Man: You want me to catch cold? Frankie: No… No. I'm just a little nervous, I guess. I must've turned into a real rube. Here you go. (The Man straddles center stage, his arms out to his sides, waiting. Frankie catches on.) Ah. (As he begins to lovingly dry The Man off.)
The Man: Yeah… Jesus. Isn't it a little stuffy in here?
Frankie: Cozy… There you go. (Stepping back.) Is she here?
The Man: Aren't you forgetting something?
Frankie: Huh?
The Man: You don't want me tracking mud all over your nice clean sheets, do you?
Frankie: (Pause.) Ah. (Almost shyly, he kneels before The Man, looking up at him.) I'm not used to this. Billy. He…
The Man: Look. Frankie: What?
The Man: The rain. How it beads up on the tips.
Frankie: Pearls… black pearls… You think they're worth anything?
The Man: Maybe they're precious… Maybe you should save them. (Pause. Frankie touches his tongue to the tip of The Man's boot.) Hot little fucker. (They
jacket and Frankie dries the rest of the boots with the towel.)
Frankie: How's that? The Man: Thanks. Frankie: (Rising.) Sure.
The Man: So. How's it goin'? What's up? Frankie: Not too much. Is there some- thing I can get for you?
The Man: Is your friend gone?
Frankie: Oh sure. The Man: Good.
Frankie: Are you hungry? I think he brought me some …
The Man: Not yet.
Frankie: Jesus. Look at your muscles. You must work out. Do you work out?
The Man: All the time. You like 'em? Frankie: They're beautiful. The Man: All for you.
Frankie: God. I never expected you to… (Shrugs.) This could be fun.
The Man: The sky's the limit. Right? No rules? Isn't that what you said? Frankie: I don't remember. It was…
The Man: I remember. Hey, what about some air. It's gettin' hot in here. Frankie: I'll turn the heat down.
The Man: Fuck the heat! What about a window, man? You got a window you can crack?
Frankie: I can't. They're sealed. The landlady had them sealed.
The Man: What is this? A fucking prison?
Frankie: You want a glass of water? I can.
The Man: I want some fucking air for Christ's sake. I'm fuckin' suffocating!
Frankie: Ah. (Backs off as the bathroom light comes up with Lady, bathed in a pink glow, a white filmy dress billowing slightly about her knees from a soft breeze, laughing and giggling with childlike glee. She is radiant, the essence of Marilyn.)
Lady: Ooooh, this feels simply delicate!
The Man: She's here. Frankie: Oh yes. You came. I knew you would. You're just in time.
Lady: (Laughing as the breeze becomes stronger.) Ooooh, feel that breeze!
The Man: Jesus, that feels good. Lady: Look at me, fellas!
The Man: A breath of fresh air. You know what I mean?
Frankie: (In rapture.) Yes. Lady: Ooooh, yes. (All the lights are out except for Lady's with her dress flying about her thighs, her head thrown back, her laughter beginning to echo, growing louder, until slowly, as a dying record, it all slows down to a stillness. A pause as the lights return, and she steps into the room shaking her hair.) Whoo. That was elegant.
The Man: What a fucking rush.
Frankie: (A step to her.) A goddess. Look at you.
Lady: Hi, Sweetie. How you doin'? Long time no see.
Frankie: I'm doin' fine. Now.
The Man: That was quite an entrance, baby.
Lady: Aw, you're sweet. The two of you. Frankie: You came.
Lady: (Patting Frankie's cheek.) Oh sure. What do you think? I wouldn't miss this one for the world.
The Man: This is your night, Pal. Frankie: Is it? I never had my own night. Lady: Do you have any champagne in the fridge? "I'm so dry I'm spittin' cot- ton." (Laughs.) Which one? Frankie: "Bus Stop."
Lady: Ooooh, I love that one.
Frankie: I'm sorry. I only have beer. I should've remembered.
Lady: Beer? Pa'tooie. Remind me to give you a couple of pointers, Sweetie… What a cute place. You live here?
Lady: Oh sure. It's real primitive, you know? I just love primitivity. Frankie: (Laughs.) Yeah.
The Man: I'll take one of them beers. Lady: Naturally.
The Man: Easy, Lady.
Frankie: Oh sure. (He gets one for him.) Lady: (To The Man.) You sure are looking healthy, Sweetie.
The Man: Yeah? You don't look so bad yourself.
Lady: Considering.
Frankie: (With the beer.) Here you go. The Man: Thanks. Like you just stepped outta one of your posters.
Lady: Oh yes. The one in Times Square. That was a big one, wasn't it, Frankie? Ker-bang! There I was, all over the place. Remember?
Frankie: Of course I remember. What do you think? Lady: Yeah?
Frankie: It's practically a classic. They got it everyplace. You can't even walk past a store window without you there.
Lady: Really? (A sort of sad, self satisfied giggle as she sits with her feet tucked under her.)
Frankie: I'm glad you came.
Lady: I'm glad you asked. Is that your poem on the powder room wall?
Frankie: Yes. Did you like it?
Lady: It was delicate. Frankie: You read it?
Lady: Oh sure. Well, most of it anyway. (Shivers.) It made me quake. You're turning into a real poet, Frankie. Very sensitive. (With a giggle.) All us— "artistes." Do you have a ciggie poo, Sweetie?
Frankie: I'm sorry. You've been an inspi-
Lady: Really?
Frankie: Did you like the part about …? Lady: (Interrupting.) What about drugs? Anybody bring any drugs?
The Man: Sorry.
Lady: (Disappointed.) Oh.
Frankie: I'm working on a volume. I call it "Flight." You keep hearing poetry's passe, but what the hell. Somebody's gotta do it. I mean, you should see it now. We're killing each other left and right. Every day. It's getting so you can't even turn on the tv without some cadaver staring you in the face. Nineteen inch glossies you flip with a switch. That's all we've become. Nobody knows how to give anymore. Nobody cares. (Shakes his head.) I just finished one I call "Resurrection." Do you wanna hear it?
Lady: Not now, Sweetie. I'm a little strung out. So, what are we gonna do?
The Man: We're gonna have a party. Isn't that right, Frankie?
Frankie: Huh?
Lady: Oh good. I love parties. I haven't been to a party in… how long?
Frankie: A party? Lady: I can't even remember.
The Man: What's your pleasure? Frankie: Ah. Well. I thought you were gonna decide that.
Lady: Careful, Sweetie.
The Man: Whaddya say? Pot luck?
Frankie: Sure. Why not? Billy says I don't have anything to give. He says.
The Man: What does he know? Right? Lady: Let's make love. Are we gonna make love? I just adore making love. The Man: Easy, Lady. All right. You got yourself a bargain, Pal. No rules? Frankie: (Pause.) No rules.
The Man: (They shake.) My rules. Lady: (Pause. Begins to sing softly.) "That old black magic has me…"
The Man: And just remember, I'm no burnt out phantom you scraped outta some toilet. You and me go back a long way, Son. Remember that. (Releases him.)
Frankie: Of course I remember. What do you take me for?
The Man: I don't know. That fucking clown you just had in here.
Frankie: Oh him? He's gone. Forget him.
The Man: Did you clean his boots too? Frankie: You're kidding. Billy? It wasn't exactly his style. Billy was a nice man. Warm fires and cold feet. He even bought us a dog. I tried to tell him there were other things out there. Bigger things. (With a chuckle.) "Dark forces" calling me, but he just thought I was nuts. I even told him you were waiting for me. I had a man to feed, I told him, but he didn't understand that either. That one just flew right over his head. Well, what can you know from a tv? A little hideaway. It's all very nice, but Jesus Christ, I couldn't even breathe after awhile, that fucking dog stunk so bad. You know?
Lady: No secrets you two. That's not fair. The Man: I'm just reminding the boy of who we are. That's all.
Lady: I think he already knows, don't you, Sweetie?
The Man: Just so we keep it straight. Frankie: (Chuckling.) Whaddya think?
Lady: So where's the people? We're going to have a party, we got to have some people. Where are they?
The Man: This is gonna be a private party, Lady.
Lady: (Obviously disappointed again.) Oh… (Perking up.) Are we going to make babies?
The Man: I wouldn't count on it. Lady: I don't get it then. What kind of party is it going to be, Frankie? No booze. No drugs.
The Man: Let's look at it— as a coming out. Yeah. That's it. This is Frankie's coming out. (With a chuckle.) He's a fucking debutante.
Lady: What's he talking about?
Frankie: I. uh…
The Man: Show her, Frankie. Down on your knees.
(Frankie looks at him alarmed.)
Lady: (Quickly.) You know what I do? I let the wind blow up my panties. It feels delicate. Everything else can go kaflooie, but— You wanna try it, Frankie?
The Man: Now.
Lady: Come on, Sweetie. Give it a shot. What do you got to lose?
The Man: (Frankie looks to Lady and lowers himself to The Man.) That's better.
Lady: What is this?
The Man: We're here for a delivery. We make deliveries.
Lady: Frankie. What are you doing on your knees?
The Man: It has been a long time, hasn't its
Lady: You brute. I came all the way back for this?
The Man: Tell her.
Lady: Forget it. I don't want to hear it. It's probably just something screwy anyway.
The Man: Ask him if he wants to be a fifty foot poster in Times Square.
Lady: Don't you make fun of that! They loved it.
The Man: Who's making fun? The kid wants to be a goddess. Ask him. Tell her, Frankie. What is it you want? A little love? A little fucking adoration? Frankie: Oh God. (To Lady.) You're just so beautiful. So— perfect. I look at you and. .
Lady: Stop it.
Frankie: I want to give something that precious too. That…
Lady: But you're a fella. How can a fella.
Frankie: It's only a manner of speaking. Lady: Well speak English so I can get it. Frankie: Remember when you sang that song for all those guys? The troops. Where was it?
Lady: Oh brother. Would you tell him to get up please. This is embarrassing.
The Man: Get up.
Frankie: (Getting up.) And it was so cold and you got pneumonia but you sang it anyway. You just stood out there on that open stage in that skimpy little thing with your spaghetti straps and your hair blowing in the wind and you just spread your arms and gave them everything! Remember?
Lady: Oh yeah.
Frankie: They went crazy for you, and you gave them everything.
Lady: I almost fucking died.
Frankie: They loved you. (His fingers to his lips. Softly, almost afraid.) "A kiss on the hand.
Lady: (Softly joining him for a few sad bars.) … may be quite continental … (Pause.) But look at me now, Sweetie. I'm staring out at the rain through junk shop windows. Is that what yu want?
The Man: Okay. The two of you. Let's get this thing going. You got what you wanted, Lady. This is his turn.
Lady: Got what I wanted? Tangled in those L.A. sheets with the phone hanging there? (To Frankie.) Don't be a chump, Sweetie. It's not worth it. (Her hand to her cheek in a hopeless gesture .) Even I couldn't do it.
The Man: You wanna give me something , Frankie? (Pause.) Then what are you waiting for? Come here, Fucker. Give it to me. I'll keep you nice and warm. Fuck them. (Frankie slowly goes to him. The Man embraces him.) Yeah. This is what you want.
Lady: (Pause. Away.) I used to put on my white dress and my white hair and my white face. Go out there and give it to 'em, Sweetie, they usta say. Knock 'em dead. (A sad chuckle.) Give it to 'em. (Billy appears faintly in the amber light.) Billy: I had a dream, Frankie. It was terrible.
Frankie: No! Lady: Who's that?
The Man: Nobody. I thought you said he was gone.
Billy: It was your heros! I couldn't figure them all out, but you were in this-tomb … (His light fades.) Wait…
Lady: Come on, Sweetie. Why don't we get out of here and cheer ourselves up. Take a walk in the rain.
The Man: I think it's time we started now. You ready, Frankie?
Frankie: Yes.
Lady: Oh. (The Man pulls a very thick white cord from under his jacket.) What's that?
The Man: (Holding it out in front of Frankie almost ritualistically with a smile.) A ribbon.
Lady: Oh… Right. (Slowly sitting at the table.) Well. I guess thirty six years of
gravity was a lot of gravity. The Man: You're beautiful, pal.
Frankie: Am 1?
Lady: (Musing.) Oh look. Blue daisies. The Man: Yeah.
Lady: How elegant.
Lady: We used to sprinkle rose petals in our sheets. (Giggles. Pause.) Red—rose petals… we'd get all hot…
The Man: Okay, Lady. You wanna bring
Lady: (From her reverie.) Huh? The Man: I need some help.
Lady: Oh. Sure. What else do I have to do? (Dragging a chair over.) So you want me to give you a couple pointers, Sweetie?
The Man: He's doing just fine. (With the chair.) Frankie? (Frankie sits.)
Lady: Just don't let them come in too close. That's lesson number one.
The Man: I said he's fine! Lady: And lots of Chanel Number Five.
They don't like you to smell bad either. They're real crude, you know?
Lady: I'll bet.
The Man: How's about settin' up a place for me at that dinner table over there. Knife and fork. And somethin' to wash it down with. You got anything in that welcome basket, Frankie?
Frankie: I don't know. Billy brought it. The Man: Let's do this up right. Like real folks.
Lady: You're too easy, Sweetie. I think that's your problem. (She unfurls a pale blue cloth from the basket and floats it down over the table like a cloud, replacing the daisies in the center, while Fran-kie is being tied to the chair.)
Frankie: It won't hurt, will it?
The Man: Naw.
Frankie: I mean, it doesn't really matter, but.
The Man: Don't worry. I'm an expert at 11.
Frankie: Ow. The Man: Sorry.
Lady: Oh look. What's this? (From the basket.) A gingerbread man. Isn't he cute.
Frankie: You're kidding.
Lady: Where'd you get 'em, Sweetie? Look. He even looks like you. Isn't he delicate?
Frankie: Billy. He… Ow!
Lady: I used to have a thing about gingerbread men. I'm sure Mister Freud would have something to say about that. He sure is a cute one though. (She takes a bite and nibbles it in glee.) Oooh, they're scrumptious. (Billy appears again.)
Billy: Frankie. I figured it out. Lady: Who the hell is that?
The Man: Nobody I told you. Don't worry about him.
Billy: Change heros! The Man: Get rid of him! Frankie: Go away, Billy.
Billy: It's simple. All you have to do is … Frankie: God damn you, Billy!
The Man: (To Lady.) Hurry up, will ya!
You about done over there? Billy: For God's sake, I love you!
Lady: He loves you?! Frankie: Go away! The Man: You finished? Billy: Please! Listen to me!
Lady: Sweetie. Did you hear him? The guy loves you. You didn't tell me that part. What are you sticking with him for? (The Man.)
The Man: Stay out of this, Lady. Billy: I turned the bed down, Frankie. The blanket's on eight, just the way you like it.
Lady: Ooooh Sweetie. That sounds delicate . Is he the gingerbread fella?
The Man: I told you to shut up, bitch! Can't you even keep your fucking act straight?! This is his turn!
Frankie: Don't talk to her that way!
The Man: (Raising his hand.) You better shut your mouth too if you know what's good for you. Remember who's who here, Pal. We made a bargain. This is the only way. You got me?
Lady: No! Stop! Don't believe him! (Trying to pull the rope off Frankie.)
The Man: Get outta here, I told ya! Stop screwing things up! (Pushing her back.) Frankie: Don't hurt her!
Lady: You liar! Frankie! Don't listen to him! I'm telling you, Sweetie, they just came in too close. They had the God damn lens shoved down my fucking throat! What the hell did they expect?! They're just pigs! They don't appreciate a God damn thing! Don't let him trick you. Get out.
The Man: (Finishing with the rope.) There.
Lady: (Softly.) He loves you, Sweetie.
The Man: That's it.
Lady: Oh… well… You fellas'll excuse me. I have to go to the powder room. Frankie: No.
Lady: I have to, Sweetie. There's nothing left for me to do out here. (Shrugs.) I guess I thought it was going to be different … I can't even hold your hand. (To The Man.) Be easy with him, will ya?
The Man: Whaddya think? I love the kid. He's like my own son.
Frankie: Please.
Lady: I'm sorry, Sweetie. (With a sad chuckle.) Rain always makes me pee. (Exits.
The Man: Okay, Frankie. You about ready?
Frankie: Huh?
The Man: (From the basket he slowly pulls out a huge shiny knife with a blade that flashes light.) I'm hungry.
Frankie: Lady … (Lady's light comes up and her dress is billowing softly.)
Frankie: Yes. Lady: Oooh. Frankie: Billy?
The Man: Okay, Frankie. Come on, Boy.
Give it to Daddy. Frankie: Billy?! Lady: Oooh, yes.
Frankie: (A whisper.) Please…
Lady: Ooooh.
The Man: (Raising the knife.) Yeah.
BLACKOUT
DELIVERY was presented at Studio Rhino on March 5, 1982, by Theatre Rhinoceros. It was directed by Charles Solomon, with the following cast: Billy (Roger Scroggs), Frankie (Timo Butters), The Man (John Ponyman), Lady (Sandahl Hebert). A second production opened on June 17, 1982, at the 544 Natoma Gallery, directed by Peter Hartman, with the following cast: Billy (Dennis Yount), Frankie (David Baker), The Man (John Ponyman), Lady (Sandahl Hebert). The photographs are from both productions.
PRESENTING AN EXCERPT FROM THE ALL NEW, SOON TO BE RELEASED
BY LARRY TOWNSEND
EXCLUSIVELY THIS MONTH FOR DRUMMER READERS!
When I was a kid, I was a rotten little bastard, I guess, and it took something pretty drastic to make me stop long enough to think about it. I'd always been good looking, and smarter than most of the assholes I ran around with, so everything came easy for me- easy, until my old man walked out on us and Mom ended up in a county hospital. I joined the Navy when I was seventeen— lied about my age—but they booted me out after a little less than a year. So at eighteen, I was a street punk with a dishonorable discharge, and no place to go. I drifted to lots of cities within the space of a couple of years and I made out okay, hustling and doing a little breaking-and-entering when things got tight on the streets. was twenty when I arrived in Houston—went there in late February, because it wasn't so fuckin' cold. I soon had my regular spot staked out on the end of the main gay drag, not far from the Drum. I'd been into SM scenes before, and I'd actually gotten to like whipping ass and making the cock-sucker grovel in front of me, licking my boots and begging for whatever I wanted to give him. I was strong and wirey, with a hard look in my face that I practiced in front of a mirror, so they really took to me-said I looked like a real Topman, with my curly black hair and green eyes. I'd also escaped the butcher's knife, so I had a nice full foreskin that made my dick look bigger than it really was. Besides, I wasn't very tall, so everything looked bigger on me than it actually was—sure turned on a bigger guy to have me work on him.
Everything had been going along pretty good, until the pigs decided to crack down on the bars and on the hustling. It wasn't safe to stand on the streets, not even if you pretended to be hitching. I was going to move on when I made friends with another hustler stud, named Jeff. He was a couple years older than me, and a real bad one. I tell you, he was mean! But he liked me, and he had this M streak in him—liked to be tied down and worked over when he'd got enough dope into him. But that's neither here nor there. We got along good, and we made it together a few times. Finally, we moved into the same room to save money while we waited for the town to cool down. But Jeff wasn't just into hustling. He'd done all kinds of dope in different places, and he'd been in the joint a lot. Finally, when we were running short of bread, he tells me
There's this fag, he tells me, who lives in a house with vacant lots on either side, easy pickings. I wasn't too sure, but we needed to score someplace, and Jeff seemed to know what he was talking about. The next day we looked the place over from the outside and decided to give it a try. By then we were down to two bits and change. Well, it was a bust from the start. Jeff went in first, through a back window. He came around to let me in the back door, but it had a dead bolt on it, so I had to climb in through the same window. It was close to 3 AM, so we figured the guy has to be asleep upstairs. What we didn't know was that the fucker had an alarm system, one of those things that goes off in the bedroom when someone's home, otherwise goes to some police control center. Anyway , we're about halfway across the living room when the light goes on and the guy is standing on the stairs, stark naked except for a big, old-fashioned six-shooter in his hand.
"Just stay right where you are," he says, and he comes down the rest of the way. As he comes around the bannister at the bottom and starts toward us, he's givin' us some bullshit about sitting on the floor with our hands on top of our heads. That's when Jeff makes a grab for the gun. And that's all she wrote. He's down on the floor in a pool of blood, and I'm standing there about to shit my pants. And by this time I do have my hands on top of my head, because I'm sure this motherfucker's going to plug my ass, too. I mean, I'm so fuckin' scared I don't even say one word!
The guy, who's about 35 or 40, and really rough-looking, he just stands over Jeff for a minute, looks up at me, still pointing the gun straight at my gut. He reaches down and feels Jeff's neck— testing for a pulse, I guess. He nods then, and stands back up. He looks me over pretty good, kinda grins and nods his head. He's really cool; I gotta give him that. He jerks the gun toward a door in the wall under the stairs, and says, "In there.
I didn't know what he was up to, and I didn't ask. I just headed for the door, opened it, and started fumbling for a light switch. It was dark inside, but I could see stairs going down into a basement. I found the switch, flicked it on, and when I felt the gun barrel in my back, I went down
It's a kinda small basement with paneled walls. There's photo equipment—lights and tripods, couple of big cameras on stands, a desk, old carpet on the floor. He went to the far wall, always keeping an eye on me, and the gun pointed in my direction. He pulled out the edge of one panel, then pushed it so it slid back. There was another room, about the same size as the first one, except this was a dungeon, man! I mean, a real dungeon! He had chains and hooks, and all kinds of SM stuff, some I'd seen before, others I didn't even know what it was
"If you want to save your ass," he told me, "you'll do just as I tell you. I haven't got time to mess around. I've got to call the cops to take care of your friend up there, and I can't wait too long to do it.'
"Why should you want to help me?" I asked, although I was already beginning to get the picture. Except I didn't have any idea how far it was going to go.
"That's for me to know and you to find out," he said, sort of nasty. "You tell me how it's going to be, but let me remind you of one point of law you may not know. You were in the act of committing a felony when I caught you. A man died in the course of that felony, and that means murder-one for you if I turn you over to the cops.'
I didn't know if he was bullshitting or not, but I'd heard about some fucked-up law like that in New York, so I decided to play along. "I guess I don't have much choice, man," I told him. It had also occurred to me that now I'd seen all this he'd probably take me back upstairs and shoot me, too, if I didn't
"You can start by stripping to the waist," he said.
I tossed my shirt and jacket into a corner and stood with my back to him. In about two minutes he had steel cuffs on my wrists, a chain around my neck, and a leather hood with a gag in it over my head. I couldn't see anything at all, but I could hear fairly well. I felt him unbuckle my belt and pull my Levi's down around my ankles. He must have used the belt to fasten my feet together. He then tightened the chain on my neck, pulling me up until I could barely keep my toes on the floor. "You just stay there and keep quiet," he said, "and pray that I get rid of the police before you strangle."
Well, I must have hung there for over an hour. My back and legs were strained and aching, but I found I could actually put my heels down on the floor if I took the pressure of the chain around my neck for a few minutes. The chain would cut off the circulation, but I could still breathe, so I managed to do this every few minutes to relieve the tension. I could hear them upstairs, although I couldn't understand what they were saying. There were clumping sounds of guys walking around, and at one point someone opened the basement door and came down the stairs. There was some more talking in the next room, and after a few minutes they went back up. Texas police don't get too het up about somebody shooting a burglar in his living room, and Jeff had broken the window when he climbed in, so there probably wasn't any question about how it happened. There'd been one burglar, one shot, one stiff, and that's all there was to it. The police finally took Jeff's body and left.
Now I'd been doing some thinking while all this was going on, and I'd figured out that if this guy lied to the police about there being only one burglar, then he'd be in for some real trouble if the pigs found me. And I guessed what he'd done to me would be kidnapping. All this wouldn't do me much good while he had me trussed up like a hog waiting for slaughter, but it might give me something to hold over him when he finished whatever it was he intended doing to me. Unless he meant to kill me, too! Jesus! That thought had just penetrated my mind when I heard him coming back down the stairs.
I heard the panel slide open, and felt a gush of air against my naked backside. I could hear him move across the floor, and I actually felt the heat from his body as he came to stand in front of me. "You were a good boy," he said. "You kept
real quiet." He spoke with the trace of a drawl, but he used good English, much better than me. I figured him to be a college-type, probably with a good job someplace, maybe with a lot to lose if I ever got the chance to squeeze him. I had it all figured out, what I was going to say to him, as soon as he took the gag out of my mouth.
Only, I didn't get the chance, not right then, anyway, and by the time I did get a chance to talk, I was thinking about a lot of other things. I felt him work the boots off me, and pull the rest of my clothes off with them. The floor felt cold against my bare feet, but it was soft, like some kind of padded rubber. He put some cold steel restraints around my ankles, something with a short chain between them, so I could walk about a half-step at a time. Then he unhooked the chain from the ceiling, so I was able to take a decent breath for the first time since he hung me up there. He walked me across the rubber-covered floor, holding hard onto my arm and guiding me with his other hand against the small of my back. I felt a piece of wood come into contact with my shins, not hard; I'd walked to the place he wanted me.
'You're standing in front of a saw horse," he said, "and I'm going to bend you over it. Just do as I say, now, and you won't fall." He kind of leaned into me, with one hand at the back of my neck, pushing me down, while the other pushed into my gut, holding me back. I couldn't help resisting him, because I was afraid I was going to fall as he made me lean over so far I was losing my balance. With the hood over my head, and not being able to see, I didn't even have a very good sense of up or down, once he had me bending. Then I felt a padded surface hit my stomach, and he pulled my head down hard. I was lying across the horse, feet still touching the floor, as he moved about quickly. First, he attached my neck chain to something on the ground, about a foot or two away from me. My ankles were also anchored and there I was— chained down, ass high in the air, my naked butt ready for whatever he decided to do with it.
I expected he would either start whipping me, or maybe fuck me. I sort of gritted my teeth, or rather bit into the leather gag, and waited. Instead, I heard him running water. I didn't catch on right away — guess I hadn't been around quite enough to know all the things these guys get into. A few minutes later, though, I felt him start to play with my asshole, running a finger into me with some grease on it. I tried to squirm away, because I'm not used to having anything shoved up my ass, but I couldn't move very much and he shoved some sort of rubber or plastic nozzle into me. Then I heard a little hand pump go, and I felt the thing inside my ass swell up—felt like it was going to bust my ass. I tried to yell at him, making just a blubbering sound against the gag, and before I could even do much of that I felt a flood of warmth into my gut. The son'bitch was giving me an enema!
I was so surprised and so fuckin' mad, I started to thrash around, but he grabbed hold of me and held me still. "You're only going to hurt yourself," he said calmly. "You be a good boy and do as you're told, now." Well, I don't know how many gallons he pumped into me, but my guts felt like they were going to explode, and the pain at a couple of points was awful. He did move me back a little on the saw horse, so the padded top hit the bottom of my chest and left my belly free to take the water. When he'd filled me, he did something to the thing in my ass-disconnected it, I guess, from the enema bag. He unfastened my head and ankles, made me stand up—which made the lead in my guts churn around again, and I had to shit so bad I felt like a pregnant woman about to give birth. But the plug in my ass kept it all inside as he guided me into the corner, and backed me onto a toilet seat. He reached between my legs, did something to the thing in my ass, and pulled it out.
We went through the whole thing twice more, the last time I was on the pot being when he pushed and kneaded my belly to make sure everything came out. It was really embarrassing by then, because he was not only using my ass like he owned it, but he was even wiping it like a fuckin' baby in between. Shit, I didn't even like to take a crap with someone looking at me, and here I was going through all this naked, with chains on my wrists and ankles, a hood over my head, and this guy just working me back and forth like I was some animal. Except to tell me to move here, or turn there, he didn't say anything.
When he finally finished and had wiped my ass for the last time, he led me back into the room, attached my neck chain to the ceiling again, and kicked my feet as far apart as the chain down there would allow. He fastened a leather belt around my waist, stuck his greasy finger up my ass—with no warning, so I bolted away. He put me back in position, then shoved a rubber plug up my ass. He brought the strap attached to this around between my legs in front, worked my cock and balls through a metal ring, and fastened this to the front of the belt. The back end was already attached to the belt, so now I was in some kind of harness, with my ass plugged solid.
I had grunted and moaned at various things he did, but I
Bodyware for Men When you got it, show it!
couldn't say anything. The leather gag inside my hood was very wide, pressing the side of my mouth and holding my tongue down. I knew I'd been drooling, especially when he had me with my head down, but I couldn't help it. Despite this, my mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and I was getting real thirsty.
He left me standing there for quite a while—maybe fifteen minutes, maybe another hour. I don't know just how long it was, but I wished he'd come back and do something-anything . I ached all over, my gut was sore, and I felt like a plugged pipe with that rubber thing up my ass. The cockring was tight about my dick, too, and even with all the discom- fort, I was afraid I might be getting a hard on. I guess he must have left the room for several minutes, because I was suddenly aware of another draft against my legs. He took me down, and helped me lie on a table, on my back. The surface was cold at first, which made me flinch, but I didn't have long to think about it. I felt him wash my cock and balls in warm water, then realized it wasn't just water. The bastard was shaving me! I squirmed around, but I was afraid to move too much, both because I didn't know how close I was to the edge of the surface, and I was also afraid I'd make him cut my dick or my balls. I was yelling inside the hood, but he didn't say anything, just worked until he'd scraped that fuckin' razor all across my groin, between my legs, and over was really pissed, because I could just see myself trying to play Master to my next john with my crotch shaved. I'd be out of action for a couple'a months! Then I felt a cloth placed across my groin. He took hold of my cock and pulled it through a hole in the cloth, and I could hear the snap of rubber. Then came some cold liquid on my dick. I was scared now, more than before, because I knew he was doing something else, and I couldn't figure out what it was. I felt him squeeze a gel of some kind into my dick, work it in, and a minute later he shoved something solid up the pisshole.
I really fought him then, struggling to get loose and yelling again into the gag. I tried to roll off the table, but he held me down. "You try that again, punk, and I'm going to use some- thing on you that'll really hurt," he said. "Now hold still or you'll do yourself some harm."
I lay back, real tense and shivering. The butt plug ached in my ass, and my whole body tensed as I felt the tube go up my dick, and there wasn't a fuckin' thing I could do about it. I could feel it go right up into me, and it felt like it was going to start coming out of my mouth. Then I had a terrific sensation in my balls, and a terrible urge to piss. He made a couple more adjustments, pulled off the cloth, undid my chains, and stood me up again— back where I'd started, standing in the center of the room with the chain attached to the ceiling.
I felt him fooling with the back of the hood, and all of a sudden he jerked it free and out of my mouth. The dim light of the room made me blink, and I almost lost my balance as the chain pulled tight against my throat, and I caught myself. He stood a couple of feet away from me, wearing just a pair of jeans and boots with a wide black belt. He wasn't a bad looking dude, really, good body with lots of hair, sort of dark brown, with dark, deepset eyes. He was craggy and tanned about the face, but he looked a lot harder than he sounded, because his voice was kinda soft and young.
He stroked his chin with one hand, playing with the narrow little beard. "Now," he said, "I'm going to explain exactly what your situation is." He picked up a can of beer, took a swig and held it up to my lips so I could take the rest. Then he went on: "First, you're my prisoner. No one knows you're here, so I can keep you as long as I like. I've cleaned you out and strapped a butt plug up your ass. I've shaved you and put a catheter in you, and you're drained for the moment. But from now on you'll piss only when I want you to piss. You'll shit only when I take the plug out. You'll eat and drink only what I give you. And you'll keep on breathing only so long as it pleases me to have you breathe. You're going to be my plaything, and you're going to entertain me until I get tired of you." "What…what's gonna happen to me when you get tired "What…what's gonna happen to me when you get tired of me?" I asked, my voice so raspy I could hardly speak above a whisper. "That will be more or less up to you," he said. "It'll depend on how much you've pleased me." "You fuckin' bastard," I shrieked. "You'll never get away with it." I tried to scream, but my throat was so dry, even after the little bit of beer he'd given me, I could only produce a croaking sound.
It didn't seem to bother him. He just grinned at me. "I'm going to give you a choice," he said. "Survive and service me, "He shrugged, spreading his palms in an open gesture. or … "Tell you what; you can make all the noises you want. I've got this room soundproofed, except for this." He pointed to a microphone on the wall across from me. "This connects to a speaker in my bedroom. I'm going up there now for a little nap. You'll just stay where you are until you decide to cooperate . When you do, just call out to me. Say 'Sir, I'll obey you, Sir.' Just that, nothing more. When I hear you, I'll come back and we'll go from there. Of course, I may be asleep, so you may have to call me more than once."
I wanted to answer him, telling him he could shove the whole scene up his ass, but he just walked away, turning off the light and closing the sliding panel, leaving me completely alone and in the dark. I could hear him going up the stairs, but if he closed the door at the top it was too far away and too muffled for me to catch the sound.
So I stood there in the dark, the tube leading out of my dick and clamped so I couldn't piss, although I began to feel like I was going to explode. My ass was tight and sore, and my skin felt tingly and cold where he'd shaved me. I wasn't really cold otherwise, but I had goosebumps all over my naked body. The chain was not as tight about my neck as it had been, so I was easily able to stand with my heels on the floor. I couldn't move more than that, though. My legs and back were already aching, and the pain got worse as I stood there. But I wasn't going to call him. Fuck the bastard! The rotten faggot had caught me off guard, chained me up, killed my friend, and now he thought he was going to play games with me. Well, piss on him! I stood there shivering, not from cold, but from anger. I could feel that fuckin' tube up my dick, the plug in my ass, and the chain around my neck holding me in place. I was mad as a wet hen, but I couldn't move—and to make it all the worse, I felt my cock arch out in front of me, not really hard, but—Shit, I wasn't going to give in! I have no idea how long I stood there. Once I must have dozed off, because I was suddenly being strangled by the chain and had to fight the drowsiness to keep my body from falling. My mind drifted back to the various scenes I'd had, where I'd always been Master, and that only made it worse. My cock was enjoying the whole thing, poking out there in the dark with the damned tube dangling from the end. The urge to piss had passed, but now it was starting up again. I wondered what the guy was doing. The "guy"—I'd never even learned his name. He had the power to end all this, the fucking asshole! All I had to do was yell, say the magic words and he'd come down to let me loose. But I swore I'd never do
I wondered how long. Two hours? Three? Was it light outside? Must be. I must have been down there for half a day. No way to tell. I could hardly hold myself up, I was getting so tired. He had me tied up so I couldn't piss or shit without his permission. Nothing to eat or drink unless he gave them to me-no sleep, either, unless he let me down. It was on the tip of my tongue to call him several times, but I just couldn't do it. Jesus, what if my throat got so dry I couldn't call him? The thought struck horror through my guts, but it also lit a little light in the back of my mind. Why was I worrying about it? What did it matter whether I could or couldn't? I wasn't really going to give in to him, anyway, even if I pretended to, in order to live, to get something to drink and maybe a few hours sleep. "Sir," I shouted. "I'll obey you, Sir!"
I hated myself for doing it, and I decided I'd spit in his face when he came back down- after he'd given me something to drink, though. I was so fuckin' thirsty, it hurt! I waited. And waited. No answer.
I hadn't expected him not to respond. "Sir, I'll obey you,
Sir!" I screamed out again, and there was still no answer. Again, again, almost desperately. Maybe the fuckin' mike was broken. Maybe the bastard was asleep and didn't hear me. "Sir! Oh, please, Sir! I'll obey you, Sir!" My cries became a frantic, shouted chant. Every few seconds I called, and called again. My voice cracked, and I actually started to sob. I was sagging against the chain, choking as I tried to swallow, but there wasn't any spit. I was dry and strangling and desperate. I called and called, blubbering like a scared brat. I'd thought one call would do it, and now I must have been bellowing for him for hours, and nothing
I had really given up. My calls had trailed off to a croaking whisper, and it was all I could do to stand up so the chain didn't hang me. In fact, I'd even toyed with the idea of ending it right there. Hang myself on the chain, then let the fucker do something with my body. But he could do anything he wanted, I realized. He could dump my corpse out in the desert, and nobody'd ever know. He had me, had me by the balls, and there wasn't anything I could do but call out for
I hadn't heard him, but the light suddenly went on and there he was—still wearing his jeans, but barefoot this time. He looked at me without expression, watched me silently as I struggled to stay on my feet. I hated the fucker, I thought. I really hated him, but if he'd turned away and left me again I'd have done anything to bring him back. I was glad to see him.
"Let's hear it once more," he said softly. He walked to the corner where there was a wash basin and the toilet stool. He turned on the faucet and started to fill a plastic cup with water. "Please, Sir. Let me have a drink of water," I whispered.
"That isn't what you're supposed to say," he replied. "But I've said it!" I rasped back. "I've said it a million
'And now I want to hear you say it again," he told me. For a moment I was blind with rage. I twisted against the cuffs, and felt the steel chain bite into my neck again. He poured the water down the sink. Okay. Okay. "Sir, I'll obey you, Sir." I said it in a gasp.
He was pouring the water again, this time with his back to me. "I didn't hear you," he taunted me. "Sir! I'll obey you, Sir!" I shouted it as loudly as I could, and he came to me with the plastic cup of water. He let me drink it, holding it to my lips, which were trembling so badly I could hardly make them function. I dribbled half of it down the front of my body, felt the precious drops against my chest and belly, down onto my cock. "Don't worry about it," he said. "You'll get another chance."
I thought he meant he was going to get me another cupful. Instead, he tossed the plastic container away and went to the shelf above the sink. He picked up a watering can, one of those rounded things that look like a whistling tea kettle with a long, narrow spout on the end. He brought this to me, and placed it on the floor at my feet. Then he took the end of my catheter, stuck it in the watering can, and released the catch on the tube. I felt the rush of piss as it flooded out of me, bubbling into the can, half-filling it before it ran out. He closed the clamp again, and stood up holding the can. "Still thirsty?" he asked. "No!" I shouted at piss! He stood in front of me, holding the can, waiting for me to say something more. He stared into my face, eyes locked with mine for several seconds. Then he shrugged, turned away and started back to the sink. "It's up to you," he said. "This is all you're going to get, and\nit's better to drink it hot. Kind of nasty when it gets cold."
He put the watering can back on the shelf above the sink and turned toward the door. He snapped off the light and stepped back through the panel, getting ready to close it. "No," I called to him. "No, please don't go off and leave me like this." I wanted to call him every name in the book, but I knew better. He would just have gone out and left me again, for God knows how long.
"Are you still thirsty?" he asked, pausing in the doorway, the light still off.
'Yeah, yeah, I'm thirsty," I replied.
"That's not what I want to hear," he said, and stepped completely through the opening. "Sir, please," I shouted. "Sir, don't leave me." "Well, it's still up to you," he said in that same soft voice with the trace of Texas drawl. "After I'd finished giving you something to drink, I was going to let you down to rest for a while.
"Yes, Sir! I'm thirsty, Sir," I gasped. "I'll obey you, Sir." He came back, turned on the light, held the spout to my lips and I drank it - drank it all. It was warm, a little salty, otherwise not bad. Before I finished the canful, it tasted like fresh spring water to me, and I drained it dry. He took down my neck chain, and led me to a leather-covered bench—the same one I'd been on when he shaved and catheterized me, I guessed. He told me to lie down on my back, which I did. It felt so good to let my muscles go slack, that I hardly felt the pressure of the cuffs against my spine. I was aware of his fastening my neck and ankle chains to the top and bottom of the table, but I must have let go, the tension letting loose, and I passed out before he finished fastening me down.
He must have abruptly turned on the lights, because I woke up to a blinding glare, with a spotlight— in addition to the other lights in the room— shining directly into my face. I guess I'd been dreaming, though I don't remember about what. I know I woke so suddenly that I tried to bolt upright, and was brought back hard by the chain about my neck. Then the whole scene changed to pain! My back, where I'd been lying on the wrist manacles, felt like somebody'd kicked me. My legs were sore and aching, but when I tried to move them I realized they were partly numb, especially on the top of my thighs. I was thirsty again, with my throat parched and my belly was rumbling, although it was a few minutes before I realized how hungry I was.
I tried to see past the bright barrier of light, but I could only make out a dull blur of movement near the sliding panel. I guessed it must be daytime, but I had no way to know. As I tried to move into a little more comfortable position, I was suddenly aware of something soft between my hands and back. While I'd been asleep, he'd put a small pillow between my spine and the manacles! It was a gesture of kindness I had not expected, and for a moment I felt the urge to call out to him and thank him. But that passed quickly away. The bastard had me trapped and chained, with a tube stuck up my dick and a butt plug wedged into my guts. For a few seconds I was mad again, furious. I realized I had to piss, and my gut was aching, too.
"How long you gonna keep me here?" I yelled. Only it didn't come out in anything that sounded like a man's voice. It was a crackly sound, like some old fart on his death bed. and that only made me madder. I wrenched my body, pulling on the ankle chain and almost throwing myself off the bench— would have fallen, if the chains had been a litle longer.
He was standing over me, dressed in just a pair of leather chaps, big dick hanging out the opening. His body made a shadow fall across my face, and towered above me- a big, dark form outlined by the flare of brightness, hair on his head shining from the glow behind him. He didn't say anything for a minute, and I just stared up at him, my belly heaving in the retreating flood of rage. I was so mixed up, I didn't know what to do. I was still angry, but I was glad he was there. I was afraid of him, because I didn't know if he was going to kill me, or what else he might do to me before that.
"Please," I said finally, "please, Sir. I gotta piss." He didn't speak, just unfastened the neck and ankle chains and helped me stand up. I wobbled for a minute, dizzy and unbalanced. My head throbbed and I almost blacked out. He led me back to the center of the room, put my neck chain back up to the ceiling hook, and started fastening something onto my balls. I tried to look down, but his shoulder was in the way. I could feel a leather thong going around, squeezing my nuts, and I sighed at the stab of pain. He ignored me until
he'd finished. Then he went to the corner by the john and came back with a plastic bucket. He fastened this to a ring in the bottom of my ball stretcher, set the end of the catheter into the bucket, and released the catch. A flood of piss gushed out of me, swirling into the pail. I could see the bubbly level rising, while the weight began to pull on my nuts. "I think I'll just leave this open," he said— the first thing he'd said at all. He walked away from me, and I was afraid he was going to leave. I was still a little dizzy, and I was so thirsty I could hardly swallow. I was also afraid I might pass out and hang myself. I looked down at the swirling piss and, bad as I needed a drink, I felt sick to my stomach at the idea of what he'd do if I said anything. The downward pull on my balls was starting to hurt, too, and I could feel a stab of strain up into the lower part of my belly. The situation was hopeless! Being angry didn't do any good. If I begged him, he'd just laugh at me. It finally dawned on me just how helpless I was, how completely powerless to do anything. And this fucking sadist knew it, enjoyed it!
"Please, man…Sir," I said. "I hurt…Sir. I really hurt! Can't you let me down? Let me take a shit, get some of this stuff off me?
"You hurt, huh? Tough shit!" He went out and closed the panel.
Now I went through the worst of it. He still had some pretty heavy things to do to me, but nothing was worse than just standing there, naked in the glare of light, without even the former darkness to sort of tone down the sensation. My ass hurt like hell, because standing up had made everything settle down, ready to come out. The weight on my balls was killing me, and if I shifted just to relieve the tension in my legs, the liquid sloshed in the bucket, and it swung enough to increase the weight.
I must have stayed there for an hour or more, alternating in my mind between fantasies of what I'd do to him if I ever got the chance, and crying real tears because I wanted him to come back so badly. I remembered the microphone, finally, and wondered if he was where he could hear me. "Sir," called, sort of whispered at first, then as loud as my aching throat would allow. "Sir, please come back, Sir!" I must have called fifty times before I heard the panel click and swoosh open
Without saying anything he came over, unhooked the bucket from my balls, set it on the floor, took me down and led me to the pot. He unfastened the belt around my waist and pulled out the plug. He shoved me down on the toilet and stood back grinning, stroking his chin and watching me. A stinking blast of water shot out of me, the remains of the enema, I guessed, that hadn't quite made it the day before. I was humiliated, but so physically relieved I could only hang my head and thank him. It came out without my even thinking about it. "Thank you, Sir."
He wiped my ass, hauled me up and draped me over the horse again, shoved a tube up my ass and gave me what must have been an enema douche. I knew it wasn't much water, and this time it must have run out fairly clean, because he only did it once again. He ran some water over the butt plug, and started lubricating it again. "Oh, please, Sir. Don't put that thing back in me." I was standing by the john, feeling the dryness of my asshole, wishing I could reach down to scratch it. I felt I had to piss again, but he'd closed the catch on the catheter.
"Tell you what," he said. "I'll give you a choice— for the moment, at least. You can have the plug and be left alone, or you can have some hot soup and take whatever I decide to give you afterward."
"What do you mean for afterward- Sir?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out," he answered smugly. "Make up your mind.
I licked my lips, almost drooling at the idea of something to drink and hot soup was just the right thing. My guts churned with hunger. "I'll take the soup, Sir," I said.
He took me to the center of the room and had me kneel down. He locked a longer length of chain to my ankles, attaching it to a ring set in the floor. My hands were still locked behind my back, but the neck chain dangled free. The catheter was still in my dick, and the stretcher still on my balls. He went out and closed the panel behind him. I swiveled about on the floor, testing how far I could move— not enough to reach anything. I settled back on my ass, still kneeling with my ankles chained to the floor in back of me. I waited. And waited. I thought he'd never come back.
He brought in a big plastic bowl of soup, chicken with noodles and vegetables in it. I could smell it the second he opened the panel, and my hunger seemed to swell up harder in my gut. He placed the bowl on the floor in front of me, standing over it with his feet on either side. "Go ahead," he said. "Lap it up."
I had a hell of a time balancing myself so I could get my face down to the liquid without falling into it. I managed, finally, and I lapped it up, sprawling at his feet, naked and chained and slurping out of a bowl like a fuckin' dog. But it tasted better than anything I'd ever had before in my life! It was only canned soup, I recognized, but it didn't matter. I licked the bowl dry, then rolled onto my side to catch my breath.
He kicked me. I hadn't been able to see them when I had first awakened, but in addition to his chaps he was wearing a pair of heavy work boots. He struck my shoulder and chest. "Get on your knees, asshole!" I struggled to get enough balance to raise myself, and he kicked me again. "Up!" he shouted. The pressure of his boot assisted me, and I got back onto my knees.
He moved behind me, took the back of my neck in one hand and shoved my face against the floor. My ass was sticking up in the air as he stood up again, planted one booted foot against the back of my head and in almost the same motion landed a hard crack against my ass with a leather belt. I hadn't expected it, and I cried out, trying to roll away from him. He shoved his foot down harder. "Hold still, or I'll strap you down," he snarled. And he let me have it again.
He whipped my ass until I was blubbering in pain, yelping when he occasionally nicked my balls, where they hung between my thighs in their leather stretcher. He unlocked the ankle chain, finally, and half-dragged me over to the leather table. He tossed me face down on top of it, locked my neck chain in place, and fell onto me. I didn't know if he lubed me up or not, but his cock was inside my ass before I hardly had time to think about it, and he rode me like a wildman! I'd only been fucked a few times in my life, and always for a good price and never with a dick the size of his. The fucker was big— a lot bigger'n me. It hurt, but it felt good at the same time, and before he was finished I was pushing back to meet him every time he slammed his hips down against me. My fingers were moving against the hard wall of his stomach, and I was groaning with every thrust. He came, and relaxed on top of me for several minutes before pulling out, coming around to the head of the bench and shoving his half-hardened cock into my face. "Clean it off," he said. "Lick it clean.
He sat down, straddling the bench with his crotch in my face, and lifted my head by taking a handful of hair and pulling it up. I obeyed him, listlessly at first, but finally with more enthusiasm as he shoved his dick into my mouth and started to get hard again. That was a lot faster recovery than I would have been able to make. He forced me to work on him for a long time, finally shooting a second load down my throat and making me go through the entire cleaning routine again. He got off the bench, and I knew he was going to leave again. "Sir…" I didn't know exactly what to say to him. "Sir, please, don't go." "Why not?" he asked. "I, I'm hurting," I said again. "I'm hurting, and I'm scared to be down here by myself.
"Afraid the boogeyman's going to get you? You should have thought of that before you broke into my house." He switched off the lights and left.
This time, he really stayed away for a long time. I dozed off once or twice, but otherwise remained awake. My legs were manacled, but not attached to anything. At one point I got my feet onto the floor, but my neck was still attached to the head
of the table. It wasn't nailed down, and I could move it, but it was heavy. I wanted to sit on the floor, but the neck chain was too short, and I had to get back up onto the table. I almost fell, but knew I'd choke if I did, so I got back on top, lying on my stomach and waited. I had to piss still, worse now than before, and I could feel the slippery itchiness of my asshole, just out of reach because my hands were held by steel cuffs that were welded together, with no chain between them.
When he finally came back, he talked to me soothingly, stroking my back and shoulders before he freed my neck. He took me into the corner and let me use the john, took out the catheter after he'd drained me, explained that I mustn't piss for a few minutes. He even had a toothbrush and a tube of paste. He brushed my teeth for me, let me rinse and gave me some water. He unsnapped the stretcher from my balls, leaving me just the cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and the loose chain around my neck. He let me have all the water I wanted, then led me back to the center of the room. He chained me up by my neck again, and tied a black bandana around my eyes.
Then he whipped me. He started off easily, but got heavier and heavier, using a wide piece of leather— a belt, maybe, or a paddle. It hurt like hell, but he kept going, working all over me, always landing the blows where I didn't expect them, hitting every part of me from the neck down, even working my cock and balls with something lighter than he used on the rest of me. I was screaming by the time he finished, pulling around and around against the chain, but no matter what side I turned toward him, he belted it. He concentrated finally on my ass, and really whipped the hell out of it. At first I'd called him some names, told him I'd get loose and take care of him. But by the time he'd finished I was crying and begging him to stop. It didn't do any good and, during a period when I was quiet, he suddenly broke off. I heard the whip drop onto the floor, and for several minutes there wasn't any sound except my own labored breathing, and I wondered if he'd left.
Then he took hold of me, running his warm hands across my naked body, stroking my shoulders and sides, rubbing my ass and fondling my balls. Both hands closed against the back of my head, and I felt his warm breath on my face—smelled a trace of cigarettes as his lips pressed onto mine. "Kiss me," he whispered. He pushed roughly against me, the whole front of my body pulled tightly against him, warm sweaty skin against the leather chaps, his cock shoved against mine. I resisted him for a second. I'd, in truth, never kissed a man before. "Kiss me like you meant it," he said again, and this time I opened my mouth to him.
I can't explain the reason for it. There wasn't any, I guess. I just seemed to melt into him, and for a moment I felt like I loved him. I know it's stupid to say it, but I guess I was so relieved to have the whipping stop, and his hands felt so good on my skin, I couldn't help it. For that few minutes that he held me and kissed me, I did love him. He played with my cock until it got hard, real hard and busting, ready to shoot. But he stopped before this happened, almost left me gasping, I wanted to cum so badly.
He unfastened the chain from the ceiling and told me to kneel. He made me blow him again. Then, leaving the ban-dana across my eyes, he chained my ankles back to the ring in the floor and left without saying anything more. As I heard the panel slide shut I wanted to cry in frustration. He was leaving me alone again, and I didn't want to be alone. The room was completely silent, except for an occasional creak of a floorboard upstairs. It was dark anyway, but the blindfold made it completely black. For the moment I wasn't really hungry or thirsty, but my whole body seemed on fire from the beating, and my cock was still hanging out half-hard in front of me and my balls were bubbling full. More than anything else I needed to cum, and there wasn't any way I could relieve the tension.
He must have put me through this routine for a week or more. He'd go away and leave me in the dark, come back unexpectedly and let me take care of my bodily functions. He'd use me, whip me, change my position so I was sometimes left chained to the table, sometimes to the floor, sometimes attached by my neck to the ceiling. He put the catheter in me again and left it for—I guess—several days. He fed me soup and sometimes a sandwich. He'd clean me out with an enema from time to time, and he'd brush my teeth. I always knew that he was going to kiss me after he did this, and I began to look forward to it. Those were the only times when I felt halfway human, and gradually I came to anticipate his caresses, knowing they would come after he whipped me, and almost yearning for them because it meant an end of the pain.
Except for the beatings, he never really hurt me, and even the whip began to have a stimulating effect on me, Once he'd let me cum afterward. He'd held me in his arms, with my neck chained to the ceiling and played with my cock while his tongue filled my mouth, and he'd kept it up until I shot. It felt so damned good I'd almost cried, and if I hadn't been chained up I'd have fallen on my ass. When he went away, I felt a sadness that was like someone close to me had died. Sometimes I actually wept real tears, waiting for him to come back. Somehow, I'd stopped thinking about escape. There was no way I could do it anyway, and I was beginning to behow can I say it?— I was feeling almost "at ho basement dungeon. He had some kind of air circulation system, because I could sometimes hear the faint hum of a blower, and the temperature never got really hot or cold. even naked, as I always was, I was never really uncomfortable.
He changed my manacles a couple of times, always making sure my neck and ankles were securely locked when he freed my wrists, but he only did this to reposition my arms and let me rub out some of the stiffness. When he left, my hands were always behind my back, and I could never touch my cock to jack off, as badly as I wanted to most of the time. I began to live for the sound of his step on the stairs, and the click of the lock of the sliding panel. I called him "Sir" all the time- never knew his real name, anyway, and the feeling I had for him was like a dog for his Master. I couldn't explain it, or understand it. I just felt it and in a strange way I was, if not happy, at least content during those moments when he was with me.
One day, I had been alone for a long period, when I heard the doorbell ring upstairs. I had never heard it before, and I strained to hear what else was going on up there. Several people must have been walking around, because the floor- boards creaked in a number of different places at once. I heard a couple of doors open and close, and the murmur of voices. It got quiet, I guess when they all went up to the second floor, then more creaking when they came back down. I heard the door to the basement open, and several pairs of feet on the stairs. The voices got louder as I knelt there in the darkness, hands cuffed behind me, naked and unable to move more than a few feet. But I was not gagged. I could have called out. Instead, I held my breath, trying to hear what they were saying.
"…was with Jeff all that day, and must have been with him when he came here." This from a deep, harsh voice I didn't recognize.
Then I heard Him say, "I can't help that, Sergeant. The guy was alone when I caught him. If anyone else was outside, he got away without my seeing him."
Then I heard Bret, a guy who lived in the rooming house where Jeff and me had shared a room. "Well, I can't understand it. The kid was with him all day, and after that night he never come back. All his clothes and stuff are there. I know something has to have happened to him." "Well," He said, "you can see he isn't here."
The steps started back up again, and it was on the tip of my tongue to call out. That's all I would have had to do, and they would have come and found me. But I didn't. I felt my heart thumping in my throat, and there was a clammy sweat on my body, but I kept quiet. I waited for the intruders to leave, because I knew He would come down to me, and I knew He'd have to be grateful.
Excerpt from The Leatherman's Handbook II by Larry Townsend. Copyright 1982 by Larry Townsend. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted with permission. The Leatherman's Handbook II will be published in December 1982.
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The pickup's remaining headlight was just about enough to light up the backroads as I kicked the truck on towards the kid's uncle's house. The kid sat quietly, stiffly but letting himself lean against me. I wasn't sure if he was scared. "What's your name, anyway?" I asked, downshifting to make a corner as the kid kind of pointed a direction.
"Shit!" I cursed as we just cleared a parked car. "Give me a bit of notice.
"Seth," he said, his voice breaking a bit.
"Seth," I tried the name. "We've got to get you out of this shit.
The kid took it from me, giving me the power or at least figuring he owed it to me. I was in charge and the kid was trusting me, which is as fine as a good outside triple against a dancing master of the jab. who was a bastard. My mother died in this terrible crash, the bastard was drunk; he tried to take me on his scams but I kept getting in the way
"Dad's a great liar; he's always in New York or Las Vegas. And a twelve-year-old kid looks out of place in some big spender's suite. So George said I could stay with him. Dad used to come by. Maybe he's in jail."
"Uncle George rides with a club?" I asked, sobering a bit. Seth kind of snorted. "Nah. But they like him because he gets down and dirty and because he and his friends know where to find young guys. The bikers use them as runners.
It was common knowledge. We lived in a tri-state area and the bikers used to get picked up regular for the Mann Act when they packed young girls. They preferred teenagers because they are easily impressed, easily scared, and don't face long sentences when caught. They got burned using girls so they started packing boys and once they saw how it shocked the coat and tie set they got a charge out of using the boys for sex too. "I rode with them when I was twelve," Seth said. "Six years."
"And not all bad," I added, reaching down and taking his cock; it was as hard as I expected.
He leant back and spread his thighs, sitting careful so as to not show too much nor move me off, his eyes on the road but his tongue at his lips.
"That's it," he said, nodding towards a house at the dead- end of the street.
I cut the light and drifted in. There were no bikes, just a small house half hidden behind uncut shrubbery at the end of a long driveway crowded with half-rebuilt cars and a semi and rig. The grass was in seed; a few beer cans littered the lawn. chukas and traveling bag.
'Yeah." He looked down at his sneakers.
I grabbed him under the jaw, an eagle claw about his carotids, and turned his eyes toward me. He flinched like a falcon brought to fist, but then calmed.
"You sure it will be better?" I asked. "Yes," he answered, more firmly.
"Yes," he answered, more firmly. "Yes, Sir?" I suggested. 'Yes, Sir." he repeated.
I kissed him deep, kissed him because it's the act American boys are most resistant to; his lips tight, a shudder to his body, he took me and my tongue.
"Okay, Seth," I told him. "Let's go and teach Uncle how to treat one of my boys.'
I tossed him the bag and stepped out of the cab, flipped the nunchuks once, twice; it didn't feel right. I decided I wanted to go in open-handed and pushed the weapon back in under the seat, knowing it would be a fatal mistake if my quarry was armed.
Seth yanked off the remains of his t-shirt and threw it on the lawn with the other trash. "Throw it into the bed," I told him, walking around the truck.
"It won't be noticed," Seth said, looking at me as if I were
"Not on the lawn but-in your heart," I instructed him. "You've been living with shit so long you don't pick up the stink. Now you've got to purge yourself of habits learned here.
We started for the house and I heard Seth grunt when a can crunched under my foot. I picked the can up and threw it against the house, then stared at the boy to let him know this was a lesson too, that he had to stop fearing things separate from his own body.
We went in through the screen door. Seth caught it. I turned on him, smiling but smiling coldly; he caught his breath, shoved the door out and let it slam. We were in a tiny kitchen, every open space of which, from countertops to sinks and refrigerator top, was crowded with beer. Two large trash cans— not containers, were filled to overflowing with empties.
"You're home," a voice bellowed, a bed rocked and a chair fell. "You're going to pay.
Seth shook a little. I held him for a moment, grinding myself into his round ass. We could hear Uncle coming. He was obviously drunk for his steps fell back one or two for every three forward.
'Your ass is going to pay!" Uncle promised.
He lurched into view, obscenely obese with the tiny genitals , yellow tainted skin, and a hairy pelt over the fat, nude but for the belt in his hand, blinking dumbly at me with little pig eyes.
I walked for him, smiling at the opportunity of smashing such a disgusting piece of existence. "Who the hell?" he asked dumbly, raising the belt as if such a minor annoyance could serve any defensive purpose at all.
I had no desire to converse with the pig. My hands rose to fighting position. I bobbed and wove as I set to my task. The belt came and I took it on my arm with none of the penetration of a kick. The belt flew free as I hook-kicked his elbow, then drove him to the wall with a front thrust kick.
Uncle grunted and only got his hands half up before Whup! Whup! — I slapped the bastard's head from side to side, then yanked him down into my knee and threw him to the floor. I hurt him but was careful not to put him out.
'That's your place bastard!" I told him, slamming my boot down between the shoulder blades.
I let the pig feel his place as I looked at Seth, made the boy follow my eyes down to the piece of shit on the floor beneath me. "That's the shit that's stained your life?" I asked Seth. "They're all alike, using money or another's misfortune to play master; they don't have the guts to admit what they really are! Right, bastard?" I demanded of the pig, grinding my boot into his back. "Right!" "Right, Sir," the bastard groaned. He knew the scene.
I knew he wasn't broken yet, was just playing for time until the bikers roared back, but I had plenty of time knowing the bikers. The one hurt biker had roared in, they all blasted out in mass, roared about the streets, terrorized a bar or two, got around to getting their friend to an ER, and probably fought about what they should have done and then went off to crash. But I was sure the pig expected them any minute. "Spread 'em out, slave!" I commanded him.
He spread, a bit slowly so I kicked him in the ribs. "Hold that," I told him and walked to Seth, circled behind him, rubbed my cock into his ass and clamped my hand over his cock. Seth ground back into me, looking down at Uncle. "Ugly piece of shit, isn't he?" I asked. "Sure is," Seth agreed, his lip curling into a snarl. "Too ugly to be a man," I observed. "Face like a pig but too clean for a pig- maybe a dog. Bark for us, dog," commanded.
He hesitated and I went for him right through Seth. The boy was knocked aside and caught himself against the table about the time I kicked up through the dog's face, its lip split and nose mashed.
The dog looked down and saw the blood, then looked up in fear. Now the breaking-in had begun.
"Bark!" I commanded, picking up the belt.
"Arf, arf," it tried.
The belt splatted against its fat ass.
"Up into the dog position and keep barking, you fucking mongrel!" I ordered and beat him from side to side with the the belt.
"Good boy," I praised it. "You can lick the boy's sneakers as a reward. And keep that tail wagging."
The belt cracked upon it. It cringed and crawled forward, elbows shaking from trying to support its weight bent. Its tongue came out, tried once or twice, but it was too humiliated to actually lick it … until the belt cracked upon it again and then it licked fast.
Seth stood there, spread legged with hands on hips, and began to giggle at the dog on its knees, wiggling its tail, cleaning his filthy sneakers.
Get your pants down, Seth," I commanded.
He looked at me smiling, then his hands went to button and zipper and he pushed the jeans down around his knees. His hands went to the waistband of his torn shorts but I shook my head, walked back behind him and ripped the shorts off. pulled Seth's firm ass to my cock, clamped my arms under his flat pecs, and pulled him back to my chest.
I fumbled in my bag, brought out a cock ring which I clasped behind Seth's cock and balls, making his cock jut out and thicken. Then I brought out a dildo and took Seth to a chair where he sat on my lap. The dog kept right on at its task. "Make him sit," I whispered in Seth's ear.
"Sit," Seth said, but there was no bite in his voice.
The dog paused but did not obey. "Hit him and make him sit!" I commanded Seth, pulling him tighter to my cock.
"Sit!" Seth commanded and half-slapped the dog, starting a good strike but hesitating in mid-blow and finishing at half speed.
I leaned Seth to one side and Crack! popped the dog's attitude back into obedience to his fear.
The dog sat up. I handed Seth the dildo. "Make it beg for it," I whispered to Seth.
He giggled and wriggled his ass back onto me. His legs were bound by the jeans; he tried to step out of one leg, but it caught on his sneaker. He levered the sneaker off and stepped out of the leg so he could spread his ass out wider for me. Then he held the dildo out above the dog's nose.
The dog hesitated and Seth slapped it, cracked it a good shot. The little pig eyes blinked in shock. Crack! Seth hit it again and the dog sat up on its haunches, tongue out and panting for the plastic cock.
Seth teased it, made it grab for it, then let it have just the tip. It took it greedily, sucking at it, slobbering over it, but Seth quickly yanked it out and made it beg for more.
"Stay!" Seth commanded, then flipped the cock down the hallway.
The dog actually quivered in anticipation, looking over its shoulder at the dildo and then back at its Master. "Fetch!" Seth ordered and the dog flew up the hallway, its fat ass wobbling, thighs quivering, elbows rowing, and knees
It grabbed the dildo in its mouth and came back with it, wiggling towards us as Seth laughed and laughed, his ass tight to my cock.
Seth took the dildo, wiped it off in the dog's hair and sent him after it again. After three retrieves the dog came back red-faced and panting heavily. "You want to fuck him?" I asked Seth. "Should I?" he asked, smiling at the fat dog with the plastic cock in its mouth.
"Just to set yourself above it," I decided.
Seth got off me and immediately my crotch felt the cool of the air; I had been sweating from the pressure of his ass against me.
'On all paws," I commanded it. "With that tail high." It got down. Seth kneeled behind it, his cock arching out hard from its harness. He took it in both hands, aimed it between the fat cheeks, positioned it, and just leaned upon it, letting his bodyweight take it home.
I stared at the dog, watching it chew at the dildo as Seth kept his weight slowly driving his cock. The dog hadn't been done much; his nostrils flared in pain but there was no escaping it and Seth liked the feel. Once in he began to fuck long and hard.
Seth was pretty fucking: breathing slowly through his mouth, catching at breath when it felt real good, eyes glossy as he concentrated on the feeling of it, caught the rhythm, hands all over his own body, on nipples, ass cheeks, taut stomach. He was just using the dog's hole. The dog grunted. Its little worm hardened, its red tip bobbing . It was getting into it but Seth came, grunting as he shot his load into the dog. "Clean him off," I ordered. But the dog wanted more; it was close to coming and slow to obey. I cuffed it over the ear and drew back to cuff it again but it was moving, slobbering over Seth's cock, balls and stomach.
Seth's eyes were on me, his cock limp and withdrawn. The scene had gone on a bit long for him.
I grabbed the dog by the scruff of its neck and pulled it up, pushed it up, pushed it over the table, tied it spread eagled to each of the table legs. The table wobbled under its weight and it struggled to keep still. It saw we were leaving. "You'll get yours," Uncle promised. "The club will see to it."
Seth started to get his jeans but I shook my head. I liked him in just the cock strap and didn't want him taking any of this place with him. He bent and removed the remaining sneaker, then tossed it back over his shoulder with a smile. "You'd better run," the dog fumed. "Any time now." one I had carved a recessed taper in four inches from the end, like a butt plug. I shoved it up his ass and his sphincter closed about the narrow, three inches. The wick jutted out. "What's that?" the dog asked.
I just lit a match, lit the candle and put the match out on his
"Come on Seth," I said. "Wait!" the pig cried.
"Your friends wil be here soon," I teased. "You've got an hour to sweat, squirm, burn.
We left to a chorus of curses. Seth walked gingerly across the lawn, nude and afraid of being seen, my hand on his ass.
I slept soundly. My body, stripped to efficiency by the growing pace of training, needed no aid to drop into the emptiness of slumber. My mind was free of troubles, working efficiently, and I had no need to anticipate the harsh alarm which for years had forced me to wake up before it shattered my sleep. This morning I was coaxed from sleep by the soothing interplay of two sets of tongues, gently bidding me to give up the precious oblivion of sleep for the sensuality of morning.
I remembered not the dream; my mind drifted from it on the way to sexual desire. I stretched toward morning, reached down to scratch my balls, found a head in the way, and was awake. A breeze from the open window played upon my skin. I heard birds singing. The first rays of the sun
I motioned sleepily and Bobby crawled in beside me, fitting himself to me. I toyed with his nipples and watched Seth at my cock, straining at the taut leash between his collar and the lower bedpost, the work of the jealous Bobby.
'Leave off there," I ordered.
Seth looked up reluctantly, my cock in his mouth, his eyes begging for more. But there was no respite and he let it fall, got out of the bed and kneeled beside it. I sat up and he took my cock again, waiting.
The piss came slowly at first, then started to gush so I had to clamp down again and again, giving him no more than a mouthful at a time.
Seth took it gamely; he had no taste for piss, not like he did for cock or someone toying with his ass. But he took it from
me willingly, to prove he enjoyed his place. I noticed the marks of my belt on his ass and a bruise of two up his back and wondered if perhaps I was being too hard on him. But I put it out of my mind. Physically he was filling out, his confidence was growing, his tutor expected him to be ready to take his GED in a month or two, and he was doing well at his new job. Seth was doing damn fine and had voiced no complaints.
I turned my attention to Bobby and noted again how much he got off on watching Seth serve me. I decided he got off a
'Like the way he guzzles piss, Bobby?'' I asked.
Bobby looked up from his daze, knowing from my voice
I smiled down at my feet, brought up one foot and pushed Seth off, I pointed Bobby to his place. He got down, crawled over and took my cock. I didn't have much piss left so I held what I had and made him work for it. Bobby had been holding his breath, now took a gulp of air and still didn't get the piss. I smiled at Seth who was sitting passively, wiping a faint trace of urine from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. Bobby was breathing evenly now and I let him have my last trickle and stood up. "You're a good slave," I told Bobby. "You deserve your own boy, but you're still my piss drinking punk, even if maybe you're now the head piss drinker.
I grabbed him by the back of the neck, forced him forward and swatted his ass a few times to assure him that I still cared about his development.
Seth half crouched at my approach, offering his ass as a target, not because he liked getting spanked but because he didn't like Bobby getting any treatment I didn't give him. So I just unsnapped his chain.
Get dressed punks," I told them and went to the short clothesline hung in the corner. It was crowded with shorts, wraps, socks, and jocks and I picked out what seemed to be clean and dry. I dressed in jock, socks, plastic sweat top, training shoes, and went downstairs. Bobby and Seth followed and we went through our stretches.
I do not recommend stretching with a dancer as it's very bad for the ego and frustrating as hell. The only advantage to it at all is that it makes you work twice as hard as you would alone just to keep even, or close to even. I hate stretching; it took the Sensei's belt to get me where I am now and I know it's not far enough.
I probably would have quit early if it weren't for their eyes upon me; with their support I kept at it until even Bobby's eyes looked to me to have done. I grunted and stood. Seth fetched the ankle weights and tied them in place. Bobby handed me the handweights fashioned from salvage railroad bolts, and we went out and began our morning run.
I have to lose myself in the mechanics of running for it to do any good. Seth likes to chatter so Bobby lags back and keeps him away from me. The match was set for seven rounds with a black fighter up from Baltimore which is a good kickboxing town. I'd never met him but had heard he was a nose-to-nose brawler which made conditioning number one. So it was seven miles at a slow to medium pace.
The week before the fight I'd go to half-mile work, setting the pace for fast, hard rounds. Half-miles and sprints. Slick Sam took care of the hardness; only running could give the staying power.
After the first fifteen minutes, about two miles, my body was well enough adjusted to running that I could relax from the mechanics and sink into it. A half hour gone and I coughed up the last remnants of phlegm from my system.
Seth was panting hard but trying to hang in. I dropped back beside him. Sweat was broken out on his forehead, his throat and cheeks were too red, his stance was clearly breaking down, but his eyes were set. I looked to Bobby who runs like a determined to follow me to the end. But I knew he wouldn't make it. Bobby would take care of him. Soon I heard the dry coughs give way to the gasping whines of vomiting and I was alone.
My heart was set. I continued running towards the fight, away from the softness that beckoned me to tend to Seth, to feel him soft and grateful as I took the pain from him. Bobby would tend to that. I'd have to be content with Seth's respect and my own place.
I picked up the pace a little to cleanse myself with pain. My arms ached from the weights, cried to be stretched down even for a moment, but I kept them where they would be in the fight. My calves ached and ankles gave beneath me but I kept to the pace, trading pain for toughness, willing my body to obey.
I began to cough dizzily when I turned down the last lane, heading home. I almost gave in but then saw Bobby and Seth cutting across the field and I knew their eyes were on me. My thighs were leaden, my feet hit hard, and the whole movement of running was jerky and uncoordinated. But it was the best I could give.
The world had developed a decidedly red tinge by the time I reached them, the air was damn hot, my movements slow and frustrating, but I moved through Hell or Mars and walked it in, forcing myself to breathe through my nose so they wouldn't hear me pant, walking very carefully, fearing my legs wouldn't hold. It was one of those inconvenient times to have slaves about, but their presence had forced me beyond myself.
The boys stripped outside the backdoor and hosed each other down while I sat on the hood of the pickup and relaxed. Bobby pushed the nozzle into Seth's mouth and flushed the puke from it, played the hard spray into his armpits and then his ass, holding the hole open with a finger, and finally over the now-hard cock until Seth shone in the early morning sun like an otter.
Seth was very careful about washing Bobby who pranced and posed in the spray for me. The two tanned bodies were glistening and gleaming, both sleek- not gaunt like the moving corpse of a runner nor as 'smooth as a swimmer's. Their asses were round, inviting. My cock arched into my jock and I kicked it and my shorts off. I leant back against the windshield and felt damn good to be alive.
They joined me on the hood: Bobby to the left, Seth to my right. I shoved Seth down onto my cock and we watched him bob up and down on it. "What time's the audition?" I asked Bobby. "Eight," he said. "Madame Bowtrey hasn't taken a dancer from our area in eight years.
'So?" I asked, then slapped Seth for nipping me with his canine. He took the slap like a kiss.
"Jealous again?" I asked incredulously. "Have a seat on my cock if you want, but shut up.
Seth scampered up, his feet squeaking on the hood, squatted over me, lowered himself down to my cock, bobbed once, twice, and then settled in. His asshole was hot and wet. clutching at me. I kept him moving about my cock, playing with his.
'You afraid of being rejected?" I asked Bobby.
He smiled, pulled his knees in, shook his wet hair, and rocked back, thinking.
"I'm not uncomfortable," was the phrase he settled on. "You afraid of being accepted?" I asked. He looked about him, "I've never been this happy."
We had been damn happy. I couldn't remember being happier. The days had passed in a slow procession and we were taking a chance with no guarantee of winning. Even sex-crazy Seth was affected by it, and grew quiet upon my cock.
"If I was a sensei I'd probably have a parable," I said, regretting my ignorance. "All I know is that you'd be cheating if you settled for less and it would somehow cheat all of us, that these things are part of the chain."
Bobby shook his head. "I'll go if chosen," he said. "There's no way I'll be less than I can be but I want you with me. "You are me," I reminded him. "Ying and Yang…" I I llet the mellow sadness take over as I have a tendency to talk too much.
Bobby smiled, playing at feeling fine. 'I'll bring you a pretty gazelle of a slave," he promised.
I pushed Seth down and pulled out from him. "Finish this for me," I told Bobby. "I've got to hurry to get everything in by eight." "I'll get all eight in," Bobby promised, moving in to fuck
Seth.
The audition was in the old movie house that Bobby's company had transformed by tearing out seats, widening the stage, and jury rigging lighting. It was makeshift but with the acquisition of a rowhouse adjacent for practice rooms and offices, it served its purpose. It was in a terrible part of town. We parked six blocks away instead of risking the truck to the street.
Seth and I had sat off to the left to avoid the crowd of family and friends clustered in behind the board members sitting at the front of the center section. The centermost seat held a rather regal but masculine-looking woman of sixty or so, clad in forties fashions, and leaning on a cane. She listened dispas- sionately to the socialites dropping by to pay court.
The dancers had to warm up in the space before the stage because of the lack of room. Bobby did not see us though Seth tried to wave until I elbowed him and ordered him to sit still. Bobby was intent upon his warmups, a slight smile to his lips, lost in his world. The other dancers would practice a few minutes, then wave to their families, visit with a friend, or chatter together in little groups. They were getting off on the experience of just trying.
I was disgusted with the lack of discipline on display and had no doubt that the iron lady up front was similarly affected. She seemed to be chatting with the society biddies as one by one they pranced by but she had the look of a person who did not let the necessity for observing formalities interfere with her life. "Bobby looks ready," I remarked.
Seth looked up and smiled stupidly, agreeing with whatever I said. He was toying with his gleaming collar, hoping to be noticed so he could smile his sweet smile and shock the
Some guy with a clipboard gathered the dancers together. Bobby stood listening but not caught up in the crowding together, the communal thrill of the trial. He was sufficient unto himself. Then they wnt up into the wings, so many that some were visible beside the curtain. The clipboard man sat beside the iron lady. All the lights were cut but one center stage. Seth's hand found my cock, and it was underway.
The dancers came and went, some better than others, some prettier than others, some with larger cheering sections or more favor with the board, but none with the cool, smiling calm of a professional going about his business. I would have stepped into the ring with the souls of any of these, regardless of the body housing them.
Except Bobby. He seemed a different breed altogether, doing what he had trained to do, meant to do, gave all to do. There was no applause when he finished but for a polite round started by Seth and I thought for a moment I might have been wrong
Bobby went off and a ballerina came on. A few minutes later he came through the dark to us. Seth made room for him and I squeezed Bobby's ass as he squeezed in beside me. "You were in a class by yourself," I told him. Bobby settled into the chair, glancing at the stage but not caught up in the others. "It was great," he admitted. "Doesn't hardly matter that she didn't notice me.
He was lying. He had trusted his dream and wanted it, thought he had it and felt it stolen from him, and was beginning to readjust his dream. But there was movement in the dark and the guy with the clipboard appeared by Seth.
"Bobby," he whispered. "Yeah, John," he whispered back. "Hang around after," the whispers came back and the figure was gone.
After the last dancer was finished and the lights came back, the clipboard man went up on stage to thank everyone and in very polite terms to tell them to get lost. Immediately there was a schism; the dancers bundled into sweat gear and surrounded by family, and the society people hung back watch- ing the dancers hurry off before languidly taking their leave, secure in the knowledge that they didn't have to try and do anything at all.
Some noticed us as they left. Seth made the most of his collar and flashing smile to incite titterings that started further up the aisle. Bobby sat quietly. I knew the feeling; after a win there's no desire to have a crowd about or even a world to be champion in, just quiet to savor one's peace in, a peace like sleep in the womb.
The old lady walked up on stage, dismissing everyone, even clipboard man. When the door slammed shut she motioned for Bobby to come up and stood dominating the stage, tapping it with her cane as she watched him approach. When he was by her she walked about him, examining him
"Humble yet pleased with your life," she remarked, her strong, clear voice carrying better than most younger women's. "Dignity not marred by pride. You did not learn that here."
"My Master sits up front," Bobby answered.
I have never felt prouder than when that aristocratic woman looked at me and nodded. "Please disrobe," she told Bobby and walked down off the stage. She nodded as Seth and I stood and she sat down beside me.
Bobby was soon nude and standing obediently, a fine kouros.' "You have done well," she complemented me. "You dance?"
"Thank you," I answered. "I understand discipline." "So I see," she commented. "Was your Master a dancer?" "A martial artist," I told her.
"Of course," she laughed. "Does my new dancer know of the cane?"
'Certainly," I assured her. "Of discipine, selflessness, yet as much of love, courage, and ambition.
She nodded to me and we walked up on stage together, taking in Bobby's fine lines.
"Will he give you up?" she asked me.
"Speak to him," I advised, my eyes on Bobby's fine ass. "Will you serve me?" she asked. "If you will have me," Bobby answered. She tapped the floor with her cane, Bobby knett. She extended her foot, He kissed it and remained humbly bent to it. I felt my lip start to curl and my heart quicken. I found myself angry with her, wanting him back. She looked at me, saw I wouldn't interfere, and nodded.
"Do you require anything for him?" she asked me. "Only the best for him," I answered, heavy with my loss. She handed me a card from her pocket. "If you'll send his
I nodded and left the stage. Seth followed me out of the building. I was surprised to find Seth crying. "What's this?" I demanded. "I don't want to leave," he whined. "Not ever." "We'll work on that attitude," I promised him as I pushed the truck towards home.
CONTINUED NEXT ISSUE
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Dear Larry,
I'm not quite 18 years old, but I'm very interested in leathersex and am anxious to get it on with someone. But no one will have anything to do with me, because I look even younger than I am. I am sure that lots of guys have gone through this same thing, and I am wondering how they have handled it.
Underage Connecticut
Dear Underage, If you're not quite 18, you probably should not be reading this, at least not in this magazine. However, I have to admit that your problem is far more common than our somewhat oppressive sex laws admit. If you get it on with an older guy, you are going to put him in terrible jeopardy , and in your part of the country he could quite likely land in jail. I also know that your own agemates are not going to be skilled enough to make your initial experience(s) either safe or satisfying, unless you happen to be especially lucky. I would suggest that you stick to Mary Palm for a few more months, then try your hand (or whatever) in the Big City, where it's legal at age 18. Talk to a few older guys in the bars, and try to get one who knows what he's doing to show you the ropes. Look around a bit before you take the first plunge. You might also check into the GMSMA after you're of age. They have a good program going in NYC to educate people before they get themselves in trouble or get turned off by a bad experience. Ask about them in any of the leather bars; the guys will tell you. The bartenders will certainly know.
Dear Larry,
I don't know if you can help me, or if there is anyone who can, because I have a peculiar problem. I'm a completely bisexual man, and I dig making it with either men or women. Lately, I've been more heavily into females, because they have become easier to find. However, my last two partners (women) have been very turned off when they realized that I also did my thing with men. They were afraid they might catch one of the homosexual diseases from me. How can convince them that I don't have anything wrong with me? I get checked up regularly by my doctor, and I've never had anything. Besides, I'm not into fisting or heavy drugs, and that seems to be where most guys get into trouble. Oh, and just for the record, I'm always top with the women, either way with the men.
Chuck NYC
Dear Chuck,
If the chicks are too dumb to appreciate you, you'd better stick with the men for a while. I think the newspaper stories about the "gay virus," the "gay amo- eba," "gay cancer," etc. have frightened a lot of people. If a woman doesn't know what it's all about, you can't really blame her; it's given a lot of us cause to re-examine what we're doing. Anyway, a good top should have a smooth enough line to make them feel at ease, and if you
THE Notebook Larry Townsend don't have it maybe you should do a little introspection. Are you sure, for instance, that the fear of "gay disease" isn't just an excuse?
Dear Larry,
I have been playing top to a very humpy bottom (in fairly heavy scenes), but after the first few times he has started to "take over," and it has gotten worse the more we play. He keeps saying things like, "Please, Sir, don't shake the amy!" (when he sees me getting ready to give him a hit), or "Please, Sir, would you use the other whip?" Things like this all the time, so that I am actually doing only what he tells me to do. If I don't go along with his suggestions, he starts yelling at me about "passing his limits" and "This is going to kill our relationship." I've tried to talk to him about it afterwards. but he just insists he loves what I'm doing to him and that his comments are only self-protective and within his rights in the setting of limits. It's making it very difficult for me to function, and I don't know exactly how to handle it.
Topman Chicago
Dear Top, It's time for you to put your foot down, and put it down hard. If you've made it with the guy a number of times and he still comes back for more, you are obviously doing something right. By this time you should be completely attuned to his legitimate limits, and if you observe them you are well within your rights to tell him: "Look, baby, you've set the (general) limits; I'm calling the shots. You do it my way, or find another top." This nit picking by the bottom is very distracting and destructive to any scene, and a good top should be in sufficient demand that he doesn't have to put up with it. The only place where I can see any excuse for it is the case of an experienced bottom teaching a novice top, but even here it should cease after a few sessions.
Dear Larry:
My Master likes to use hot wax on me, which I very much enjoy while he is doing it. However, I have a very hairy body, and getting the stuff off afterwards is much more painful than the actual application— and no turn on at all. Can you suggest some way to get it off more easily? If you can, I would be eternally grateful.
Slave New England
Dear New England Slave, Just as a proper slave should bear his welts and bruises with pride, so should you enjoy your waxy cocoon. As to get- ting it off, you have two choices: get it cold enough to break it off (a bit rough on the bod), or warm enough to make it more pliable. A good hot bath, as hot as you can stand it, is probably the best bet. That way, you can remove most of the wax before it goes down the drain and plugs up your Master's pipes.
Dear Larry,
I've read a number of articles, and been told by people who are supposed to know, that piss is sterile and that drinking it won't hurt me. But I still have trouble with the idea that any excrement can be clean. Aren't the kidneys supposed to remove the impurities from the blood? And doesn't all that shit come out in the urine?
Name withheld Macon, GA
Dear Withheld, If you can find that kind of action in Macon, GA, I'd suggest you grab it fast! What you've read and what your friends have told you is more or less true. Your own urine is sterile to you, and if you are in good health either taking or giving piss should not be dangerous. The problem arises when a donor or receiver has a physical problem. Of course, not everyone is as careful as he should be, nor as considerate as he should be of the welfare of his sex partner. A prick, "they" say, has no conscience.
Dear Larry,
I go to the gym regularly, and I am working very hard to develop my body. So far I have had very good results. (I'm 28 years of age.) I now have a lover; we've been together for five months. He insists on having sex in the morning before I leave for work, and although I enjoy it I am afraid that it is going to interfere with my body building program. He says it won't make any difference, but several of my friends at the gym say it will. Will it?
Bodybuilder Washington, DC
Dear Bod,
I think your question is the subject of a great, long standing argument. I heard it discussed not too long ago at my gym, and I was more or less persuaded to the side of your lover. With use of graphic details regarding proteins and body acids and lactose and whatever else, they lost me in the technicalities. But I was left with the feeling that sex before working out is not the worst thing you can do (booze, drugs, smoking being far more harmful), but that it can take off the sharp edge of your progress. You'll still get where you want to go, but not quite as fast. So, my question to you: Isn't it worth it? Why hurry; you've got plenty of time.
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ARIZONA
WELL-OFF DOMINANT FATHER Seeks young, masculine, great looking Clean-cut, short hair, smooth, rock-hard body, well hung who can obey all orders and needs permanent heavy relationship of total dependance on dad who was Olympic medal winner. Must be into B.B., sports, travel, home- life, and his dad. Letter with a photo a must. R.R., Route #1, Box 380, Eloy, AZ 85231.
ARKANSAS
LITTLE ROCK SLAVE
Get on your knees and write to this dominant Master, 6'2", 185 lbs, 8'2" uncut if you are white, masculine and not overweight. My interests are shaving your crotch smooth, pouring piss down your slave throat, bondage, getting the discipline from you I demand, S&M, FF and letting you know who's boss. Am experienced, respectful of limits, imaginative. You should include your phone number and times you are available. Box 308B
NORTHERN CALIFORNIA
FACE SITTER
BM face sitter seeks r / f slaves. W.
Jones, 1139 Market St., Rm. 144, San Francisco, CA 94103.
HOT HUNKY
San Francisco area. Well-put-together, pierced and tattooed M, new to area, 38, 6'3", 195 lbs., br / bl, moustache, cut 6%, with heavy experience looking for serious Leather Master any race, 25-50. Uncut meat a real plus C&BT, WS, whips, ass work and a lot more just for openers. This animal into damn near anything with your pleasure his center focus. Have complete Leather and toy collection waiting for you. No fats or fems. All photos get mine and immediate reply. Box 1283.
LEATHER BIKER TOP WANTED I'm into heavy leather, leather bond- age, and need to get into a heavy leather scene with a leatherman and or biker Must wear full leather, as I do. I am WM. 29, 5'8", 152 lbs., and am Tall shiny leather boots, bearded. gloves and a beard a plus. Write to: Chris West, 1900 Eddy Street, No. 11, San Francisco, CA 94115. No fems, Blacks or heavy S&M.
PRIME CONTACT
Veteran of two wars. NAM (SOG) and South of Market (Leather Bar hustler). X-BB, hot WM, 39, 6'1", 190 lbs, uncut, experienced. Gets excited over S&M. straining muscles and sweat. Requires physical grace, mental agility and emotional stability. If you're looking for a mutually satisfying-enduring relationship , this is the rare opportunity for the right hunk. Box 3130.
WS WEEKEND ORGY
Hot, hung, horny, handsome WM, 32, wants same for hot weekends at Russian River cabin, Dick. Box 3144.
MASCULINE STUD WANTED Marshall. Uncut Capricorn, 43, 6'3", 200 lbs. Wants masculine stud willing to give his body for our mutual satisfaction , learning and pleasure. Details, photo, phone, please. Box 1646.
GOODLOOKING LEATHERMAN
Castro Valley, S. 36, 6', 160 lbs., good-looking Leatherman seeks M, for Leather Action, obedience, outdoor-bike scenes, bondage. (415) 582-1162 or reply Box 1582.
SAN FRANCISCO FIST ACTION Seeking buddies for mutual fist fucking and piss drinking. I'm 5'10", 170 lbs. moustached Chicano hunk with 7\% endowment and a strong active imagi- nation and curiousity. Dig Leather, levis, beer, non-smokers, dildoes, drugs. I'm also a 31 year old Cancer. It would help tremendously if you're into ancient religion-earth-sex-magic, and pagan arts. I come more from compassion than from heavy humiliation, pho- tos answered first. Box 1445.
BALL BUDDIES
San Francisco W / M, 34, 6'2", 160 lbs. Bald, medium brown beard, light blond moustache, hairy, into ball torture, weights, vices, slapping, hitting, punching, mutual play seeks same. Box 1514.
NEW RECRUIT
San Francisco.27, WM, 5'9", 158 lbs, beard. Needs to learn how to achieve what have been only fantasies, an "apprenticeship" to an experienced or not so experienced Master and his slave would be a great start on this journey. I deserve to be humiliated for my inexperience which will only inten- sity my need to serve. Box 1633.
TELEPHONE NUMBERS
DRUMMER and MANIFEST will now accept verified telephone numbers in personal ads. Please add $1 to the cost of the ad if a telephone number is included in the ad copy. If necessary, please indicate to us the best time(s) to verify the number. Commercial ads (Services, Models. Travel, Resorts, Employment, For Sale, etc.) may have telephone numbers included in their advertising provided that advertisers can provide a business card. letterhead or other printed material on which the phone number to be used appears. There will be no exceptions.
Goodlooking Asian seeks WM leatherman, 35 to 45, moustache, short, slim, gentle, for mutual tit work and body contact. No drugs, Leathermen only please, Letter with photo gets reply. Box 1632
ATTENTION FIGHTING MEN
Hot stud, 22. blond / blue, hairy, 185 lbs., 31" waist, 46" chest, digs oil, jocks, sweat, leather, photos, JO and all challenges . No holds barred, submission, pro fantasy, heavy body contact, free-style , stud vs stud, muscle against muscle. Let's go for it! Box 2092.
ARMY SERGEANT San Francisco. WM 32, 511", beard, moustache, former Army Sergeant;\nenjoys hot times, Leather, Levi, Uniforms , Iantasies, WS, Ff(top), toys, JO, Phone No. exchanged, etc. Even enjoys liant tole 35 widthly M light play & cuddling. No Fats or Fems. Prefer WM within SF area, 21—40. If you wish to make an attempt on a Fantasy , drop a note with photo (if available ; photo returned upon request), include a description of yourself & a phone number &/or address for response, to Box A98 (c / o Drummer) or 470 Castro Street, Ste 207-3025, SF 94114.
CASTRATION Seeks info from MD, other, on effect of castration on mature male. Also exchange accounts, history, fiction, etc. Box 3020.
BOOTS
THE TALLER THE BETTER San Francisco. This hunky black- leather motorcycle riding stud looking for guys who think they're good enough to serve my boots and me. Have this insatiable desire for boots and the man that wears them. Just can't get enough of them, esp. black engineer and logger
Answering a Drumbeat ad is easy, but the few rules we have are hard and fast. So observe them or else. Seal your letter in a envelope on which you have written the box number in pencil. You can write the box number on the back flap of the envelope. Put your return address on the envelope if you want the letter returned should there be some problem with delivery. Put proper postage on the envelope. Include 25¢ for each letter you want forwarded. Put the whole thing (sealed letter and fee) in another envelope addressed to Drummer. Letters not properly prepared will be destroyed.
boots-taller the better. I'm 31, and goodlooking, honest. If you're man enough and serious enough to get down with my boots or make me get down with yours, drop me a line. Box 1504
HOT SAN FRANCISCO LEATHERMASTER
32, 6', 165 lbs., will train slave(s) in complete subservience. Will guide right slave from bootlicking to shaving to whipping, to piercing, to branding. Be prepared to give yourself without thought. Box 1455.
VERY GOODLOOKING
WEIGHT LIFTER San Francisco, M, 30, 61", 42" chest, 30" waist, 7". Very goodlooking, Mas- culine. Jogger-Weight lifter build. Needs piss, shit, spit, VA, C&B / T from other goodlooking bodybuilders. Mr. Right gets it all. Fats, fems, phonies, average looks / builds-don't waste my time. Box 1534.
DEEP THROAT EXPERT SERVICEMAN
Wants to pig-out on exceptionally well-hung males who dig a talented sword swallower. Good looking / body will travel for right piece of meat. Write Rogers, 495 Ellis St. #9, SF, CA 94102.
BONDAGE / DISCIPLINE W / M seeks buddy for inutual fun. Bottom or top OK. Box 3196.
MASC. BI W / M WANTS SAME Box 722, Campbell, CA 95009
HOT— HEAT— QUEER 36, 6', 185 lbs. w / m 6" cut Your queer slave worships leather, shit, heat in sick scenes for your pleasure. Train me be your Queer. Limited travel. 1359 Highway 70, Oroville, CA 95965.
WANTED: TOTAL SLAVE
By 45 year old Master. Absolutely no limits honored. Must include photo & phone. Novices considered. Must relocate to Marin Co., CA. Box 2042.
WHIPS
S.F. Master, w / m, 6', 174 lbs, 30 yrs old, looking for slaves into cigarettes, all kinds of whips, stocks, leather, levi, rope & chains. No drugs. If you have cigarette & whip fetish, send detailed letter, p. oto, phone. Jack, Box 3321.
I WANT A MAN
Who will give me the blind obedience and loyalty of a military guardsman. Under 28, proud of his masculinity, hard muscled, tough, highly sexed and ready. No body hair, no limits, no nego- tiations. Call Rick (415) 824-5918 after 7pm. (POBox 3291 SFCA 94119)
IN SEARCH OF PAPA
S.F. boy, 5'7", 135 lb. is real hot and ready for his papa. Willing to learn to respect and obey. Papa, please send me a recent photo and letter and I promise to answer. Box 3263.
TRY A LITTLE TENDERNESS W / M, 27, 5'4", small endowed, 150# (and losing) looking for youthful looking types who are into pure tenderness and gentleness. I love that kind of action— do you? Please write and include SASE w / pic, likes, dislikes, stats, hobbies to T.P.G., Box 4396, Mt. View, CA 94040, Ages 18-36, No pain, drugs, Bairy, and slender threes. drugs. Hairy and slender types.
NAVELS
If the look and feel of a guy's navel turns you on, please write. Correspondence sought from all over U.S. Box 3269.01
LOOKING FOR SONS young sons who need discipline. Love uncut cock, dirty white jockey shorts, w / s, being serviced and rimmed, spanking and fucking tight young son's ass. Box 3274.
OLDER MAN WANTS Young men to 25. GWM 56 Seeking
Young, Goodlooking muscular men who prefer an older mature and stable man for correspondence and a possible meaningful relationship. Like to hug, cuddle, kiss and suck beautiful firm bodies. Any race but must be clean, no fats, fems, S / M, B / D, drugs, kinky sex, violence, etc. Will answer all letters from those who are honest, sincere, and want a good relationship. Please send photograph if possible (Does not have to be nude, but in swim suit or shirtless to show your body). Box 3278.
DADDY'S BOY 21
Looking for Big Daddys w / beards whos into uniforms leather, cigars. I'm 21 5'9" #125 brn / green. (See Issue #56 Tough Customers) Barry (415) 775- 6165, P.O. Box 4244, S.F., CA 94101.
NIPPLE ACTION S.F
Serious weight lifter seeks other men for mutual tit play. WM, 34, 5'8", 155 lbs. Versatile, into all leather sex scenes: FF, WS, CB, BD, oil. No scat. Photo requested. Will travel. Box 3279.
SF TOP LEATHERMAN
Desires real motorcycle CHP for hot fuck session. No phonies need apply, will accept only the real thing. I am W / m 32, 6'1" good build. If you think you can deliver send photo and letter. Box 3280.
WHO & WHERE ARE YOU?
Newcomer needs to contact SADISTIC lawmen, militarymen, cowboys, leather and rubbermen for intense action in your fully equipped dungeon: cross, rack definite assets. Heavy bondage, whipping scenes, c / b torture. Serious only! Foto-phone requested. Box 3283.
MEDICAL SADIST
Accepting slaves for heavy C / B tor- ture, colonics, needlework. No scene too bizarre! Submit your body now for the ultimate experience. Exchanges with other medics, interns, sadists sharing similar goals welcomed. Travel extensively! Phone, Photo required. Box 3284.
PHONE SEX, (415) Ego-Trip
FACESITTER
BM, 5'10", 140 lbs, 32 yrs, w. rim chair seeks r / f bottoms. W. Jones, 1139 Market St. Rm 144, San Francisco 94103
YOUNG MASTER WANTED
Cleanshaven w / male 30 seeks young master to serve. Watersports? Hot letter to: Occupant P.O. Box 4077, San Francisco, CA 94101.
HANDSOME SON / SLAVE
Needing real love and domination from caring wm, 58, 5'8", 150 lbs. Daddy-Master . All scenes considered for relationship orientated sincere son / slave. Box 3293
Cruise by Phone, (415) Ego-Trip
SAN FRANCISCO SHY masculine / handsome WM, Verv 30 needs dominant emotional mentor for private on-going relationship. Intelligence, imagination, and sensitivity a must. Write Box 3295.
33 Y / O DOG / SLAVE
Sks knowledgeable experienced, intel., caring leather Master-owner to 45 who kenneled & tagged as dog for life. Into heavy B&D. No games or curiosity seekers. Serious only, Ken, 5400 O'Far-rell #306, S.F., CA 94102, 415-775-9120.
OVER 40
Someone near my age 65 must also be lonely. Active French passive Greek. Like try other gentle lovemaking-love watching mirror action lasting or occasional relationship- Will come by Greyhound from Napa area. Will contribute for cost of visit. Write for more info-photo- Love and be loved-Hurry don't miss out. Box 3297
HOSTAGE AVAILABLE
Clean cut, handsome, young diplomat could be captured and held hostage, sexually tortured, by fanatic Iranian. Photo and phone gets same. Box 2034.
THE CONNECTION
The Bay Area's Exciting New Gay Play Line, (415) Ego-Trip.
SFO AREA SHARP S Fifties, 5'11" 150 wants well-built M stud for good times. Frank letter, photo and phone. Box 3318.
HORSES, LARGE DOGS, FARM ANIMALS
Hot, pierced, uncut, W / M, 32, experienced , wants to meet large dog-horse -farm animal owners and trainers. I enjoy top / bottom in ALL RAUNCHY-KINKY SCENES, including fucking, sucking, getting fucked-fisted and eating out your cum-filled hole(s). Also into leather, S&M, B&D, c&b / tit torture, piss, gang bangs, toys, unwiped / unwashed assholes / tore- skins, headcheese, scumbags and more but especially want to meet other animal owner / trainers. I am tall, masculine , good looking w / moustache. Travel often. Photo-phone appreciated. P.O. Box 255562, Sacramento, CA 95825.
LEATHER-UNIFORMS
Pull on your SKINTIGHT black leather police gloves, light up a cigar, kick back and let this hot guy work on your leather / cop dick, SIR! Jim, Box 3319. (415) 673-1284.
ARE YOU INTO BONDAGE
Cock & Ball Torture, and are uncut (cut is O.K. though) then I can take care of your needs. Write in detail with photo to Box 19065 Oakland, CA 94619
TRY OUR NEW CONFERENCE Meat Someone New, THE CONNECTION. (415) Ego-Trip
MUSCULAR, 26
C / B, ballpain medium to rough. Also cockfighting, wrestling, lockerroom, boxing. 415-552-5719 Kevin.
LEAN, WELL-DEFINED SLAVE Seeks trim sadist. Into light to heavy S&M, bondage, face-sitting, raunch, tit, cock & ball torture, piercing. But your trip, your way. Travel. Am 41, 5'11", 150". Versatile. Send photo, phone, let- ter to P.O. Box 5906, S.F., CA 94101.
SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
BIG FAT PIG
Los Angeles. Pretty-faced hog- 30, 6'4", 300+ lbs.— seeks masters who know how to use a fat-assed, jello-bellied slave with huge tits and ham-hock thighs. Not much experience, but ALL scenes considered. So if you're into girth, come to L.A. and humiliate this handsome-faced, overgrown pig! Write Box 3179.
TOTAL SLAVE
Burbank Slave Danny will submit to bondage, whipping, piercing, armpits and tits, shaving, photography for par- ties, groups or one Master. Phone (213) 846-9486. Danny Payne, 241 East Alameda Ave., Burbank, CA 91502.
GERMAN SLAVEDOG
32, 6'1", 175 lbs., 7". Totally submissive and available for Master and / or groups for your total pleasure. Your slavedog is often in Ca. and New Orleans and needs a lot of training. Into tits, piss, and fucking. Box 101.
TWO LEATHER MASTERS
Venice Area 2 WM's, 31, 5'11", 185 lbs., blond / blue and 27, 5'7", 125 lbs., blond / blue. Looking for WM slaves to serve, limits respected, novices welcome . Must be 18-35 into B&D, S&M, whipping, WS. Send photo and description . Box 1594.
WANT REAL MASTER
North Hollywood. Wanted: WM, 25-40, into motorcycles, camping, backpack-ing , S&M, Bondage, discipline. Am white, 130 lb slave in search of a REAL MASTER to obey entirely and worship completely. Box 1515.
WANTS DADDY
W / M, 29, 5'8", 175# affectionate, horny, playful, love beer bellies & beards, but not necessary. Roger Ashinhurst, 17405 Tadmore St., La Puente, CA 91744. Photo receives photo. Legit!
COCK / BALL TORTURE
LA stud 6'/165 sks master for S / M & torture of long, thick uncut C / B's. Box 3220
DEEP ARM FISTING
W / m, 32, 5'10", 165 lbs. Men who can take it up to my hairy tatood arm and elbow. Put your pig butt in my sling and let Daddy do the rest. No requirements other than a hot well used and greedy butt. My butt can take the same. Photo and phone. Box 3232
GOOD / BAD GUY
Indoors or Outdoors; strip poker / clothes burning or Power RIP wrestling . No extra clothes allowed. C / B kicking and power wrestling into sub- mission (FR-GR-Heavy W / S-Scat-Photography -kept naked and going home in ripped to shreds clothes or jockstrap or naked.) No clean up privi- leges. KEN, W / M, 5'8", 160. Box 1021, Orange, CA 92667. Also dominate- aggressive HE-MEN or JOCKS not chicken into some of above and all MUD WRESTLERS. Sincere only. Extra wild regular longterm relationships wanted
TWO MASTERS, 32 & 39 Need live-in slave for total obedience. Experienced into B&D, S&M, Whipping. Shaving, TT, or eager to be trained. Our fully equipped playroom is waiting for you. Send detailed application with photo-phone to Box 3277
VER STUD
6', 160, long, thick uncut. Write: "Marl- boro," 11325 Blix, N. Hlywd, CA 91602.
BALL BUSTER WANTED
WM, Gd lkg, 34, swimmer / body builder, blonde, 15+ arms, 6'3", 185 lbs., champion stallion. Spring round-up fantasy, real thing. M.D. preferred. Not slave, defiant. Needs breaking, fixing. Terry, POB 74895, LA 90004.
GANG BANG
Goodlooking masc dude wants several hot studs to ride his ass for all night session. Mustach only. Your photo gets same. Mike, 714 737-0677.
SLAVE WANTED experienced leatherman, 145 lbs, 5'10", 28, blonde, good looking. Willing
to train right man. Respectful of limits. SM, BD, CB, WS. Respond with letter and photo to Hank P.O. Box 60124 Bakersfield, Ca 93386.
MUSCLES & PECS Very muscular BB, 39, seeks other BB jocks for wild times & hot tit work. Have great bod & big pecs. You should too! Box 3311.
HOT TOP
Seeks bottoms into bondage & C.B.T. in my well-equipped workroom. George. 714-848-9801
MATURE EXPERIENCED MASTER Into heavy scenes accepting young slaves for bondage and disciplinary training. State experience and require- ments. Box 3317.
TELEPHONE NUMBERS
DRUMMER and MANIFEST will now accept verified telephone numbers in personal ads. Please add $1 to the cost of the ad if a telephone number is included in the ad copy. If necessary, please indicate to us the best time(s) to verify the number Commercial ads (Services, Models, Travel, Resorts, Employment, For Sale, etc.) may have telephone numbers included in their advertising provided that advertisers can provide a business card, letterhead or other printed material on which the phone number to be used appears. There will be no exceptions.
COLORADO
OVERSEXED DADDY
Blonde, hairy, bearded. German des- cent, Daddy, 34, 5'8", 175. Into motor- cycles, most scenes and the outdoors. Stable, active in the gay community, versatile and oversexed. Wants manly, well-built, well-hung, devoted son: trained or trainable. Physical age is not as important as emotional attitude. I respect limits but am good at expanding your limits. I am patient but very demanding. If you are willing to be dominated and raised properly, as well as cuddled at night, write your qualifications and send a picture. Box 3132.
CONNECTICUT
LOVE TO FUCK YOU
I love to fuck you guys 18-35, Jo. I live alone, if you'd like to meet me . Week- ends go to bed nude. 6'2", 200, 8", I'm good and hot. Box 3037
MOTORCYCLE LEATHER MASTER
Greenwich. Experienced seeks partners who want and need S&M, B&D, TT, C&BT, Gr / Fr, WS, Domination and other Leather actions including Leather toys. Send me your applica- tions. Limits respected. Leather Tops & Cowboys welcome to share. Box 1531.
DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA
THIRSTY MD-DC-VA. M. Cancer, 6', 35, 168 lbs., blond / blue, moustache, sensuous, blond / blue, moustache, sensuous, thirsty, independent, straight- appearing, looking for experienced, creative, hung, hard-bodied tops, 30- 45. Recycled beer, repeat shooters, long sessions, leather, body worship and sweat skinnies, pretty boys, heavy drugs, pain, blood and shit are turnoffs. Not looking for an Adonis or one fantastic fuck, but for men to serve, experiment with, and expand limits with over time. Deeper relationship possible, not likely, but willing to try, Told I'm good- looking, hot, but you decide, Recent photo and letter gets recent photo and response. Your photo returned. Sir, please write: Box 50602, Washington, DC 20004.
FLORIDA
STALLION VS STALLION
Ft. Lauderdale. Wrestle, cock-fight, spank, ver., Leather, Piss, just fine, You / us. Me the Fuck, Goodlooking, 28, 162 lbs. 5'101 / 2", 71 / 2" cock, BB wants ridin the hole of another proud beatin Stallion. Espanol, arrogant young dudes at Box 11624, Ft. Lauderdale, FL 33308. Bang Balls and I'll show you what a girl you are.
LOYAL SLAVE Tampa Bay Area. Level-headed L / L slave, WM, 29, 56", crewut, mous-tache , beard, hairy chest. Into moderate S&M, FF, hot wax, VA, recycled-beer shot down my throat, body shay-\ning, head trips, and almost eve ing, head trips, and atmost everything else. I'dlike to eat your pits and suck the spit out of your mouth. Put me in a collar, cuffs, restraints, a hood. Sir, I will submit to and serve you, a real master, 30-40, hairy, an
ONLY THE BEST?
If you are PRIMO quality manhood and know how to use it, we want you. This generous group of Chicago business owners will make it well worth your while. We want to avoid wasting time with "street stuff" and models who don't mean it. We are accepting applications from everywhere for this most appealing and LUCRATIVE situation. Plus factors are intelligence and maturity, East coast or Chicago residency, copious body hair, generous endowment, social / sexual versatility, comfort with smoke / poppers, and stability. All body sizes, types, races welcome. Negative factors are nelliness, heavy drug use, UNDER 25, ill-at-ease with moderate kink, dishonesty, inability to communicate. We are willing to work with you if you are able to promote yourself. Send us a fact sheet / resume explaining what you are all about and as many photos as you feel necessary to back it up. Be candid and explicit: so will we. This is clearly NOT a "call-boy" service, but a new and innovative service of a much higher quality dealing with a select and generous group of individuals who know and are willing to "put out for" precisely what they want.
Apply to V.R. Associates, Box 199, 2520 N. Lincoln Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60614.
well-equipped gameroom would be a plus. Sir, for your trust and respect you gain my complete loyalty and unquestioned obedience. Sir, I want you to be proud of me as your slave. Please write with photo. I will reply to every letter. Box 1522.
SADISTIC COPS ONLY Goodlooking, well-built male seeks aggressive, no-nonsense cops who know how to feed cock, kick ass, and earn respect. Not interested in phonies or play acting. Real cops only. Box 009.
ORLANDO BOTTOM
White 31, 150, attractive, educated, sta- ble, good cock, wants masculine, dis- crete, stable, clean top, 30-50, for possible permanent relationship. Not into pain. Box 3032.
BODYBUILDER, BIKER
35, interested in sex with any Drummer readers. Wet and dirty, dirty talk and fantasies, clothes. Top / mutual. Am versatile and appreciate same, but no FF. Travel widely. Photo, phone pre- terred. P.O. Box 10274, Tallahassee, FL 32302
IRANIAN- ARABIC OR LATINOS All Amer, stallion wants only stallions to compete for top. Sleek, lean, musc. 5'10%. 162 lb, 28, goodlk, 7'%." moust. Anser if your tough, goodlk, young, love comp or fightin (any style), and want to see if your more stallion than and to see the your more stall me (very doubtfull). True stallion kicks ass, spanks, fucks & makes woman out loser. Lets see just how much "woman" you boys are while I slide up your ass. Box 11624 Fort Lauderdale, FL 33308. Heres your chance to dominate—lets see ya "try" babe.
PRIME MEAT
Artist wants two hot cowboys with boots for modeling sessions. Body- builders also. Send photo or description . Box 3264.
NOVICE
W / M T / S M / A Seeks same. Box 1058, Winter Park, Florida 32790.
FT. LAUDERDALE imaginative, dominant Masculine. Master seeks together studs into FF WS, bondago, S&M, C&B / T, piercing, shaving, for 3-way with in-house slave Can administer heavy discipline but no permanent damage or Scat. Demanding but considerate. Am 45, 165 lbs., 7" cut with big balls and big hands. Box 258
BI W / M SIG. 60(45)
6½" CUT 5'9½ 200 lbs. Large Build. Would Like To Become A Member In A St. Pete Or Tampa Club Specialist In C-B-T- And Greek Fun No Jokers Or Drug Addicts. For Add. Info. Write. D.K.K. 535 37th. So. St. Pete Fla 33711, Or Phone (813) 327-8529 After 9:00 P.M.
GENEROUS OLDER MAN WANTED By GWM, 35, 6', 200 lb. If you are 45-70, attractive, educated, and would enjoy occasional or regular meetings for French, Greek and good conversation with a sharp young guy, write today. Complete discretion guaranteed. Meet in Tampa Bay area or some travel. Special interest in professional married, or novices who require absolute discretion . Box 3309.
FEET
W / M, 29, 150#, passive, seeks studs who will humiliate me, make me lick the sweat off his feet and spit on my face. Willing to try other scenes. Box
AMERICAN INDIAN / IRISH
Male, 35, inexperienced but would like to try gentle Greek action from Black, Latin, or Arab guy in Tampa Bay area. Also willing to try a gang bang or other group action. Tell me about yourself. Box 3310.
BONDAGE
I'm seeking studs who would enjoy disciplining my lover in my presence. He is 28, 5'8", 155#, into bondage. Box 3314.
GEORGIA
ATLANTA AREA MS WM, 35, 6', into B&D, S&M, C&B, whips, toys, Fr a / p, Gr a / p, 501 levis, VN army boots, and heavy ball work. No FF scat, damage. Phone a must. Box 3003.
-BREECHES AND BOOTS-
Seeking lean, submissive partner who wears English riding clothing and has a fettish for tall, tight, polished boots. I am booted and breeched top, white, 60, 6 feet, 165 pounds. Into leather, light S&M, motorcycling, boot worship, uniforms and wearing riding clothing in public with similarly clad partner. Your photo gets mine. Near Chattanooga. Box 3155.
YOUNG SLAVES OR HUNKY MEN May apply to a muscular real body- builder Master for all kinds of hot action scenes. A letter of application must include photo, qualifications and physical data. Rewards for excellent service, and limits respected. No fems or drugs. Macon. Box 3076.
MS, WM, 36, 6' Into B&D, S&M, C&B, whips, toys, boots, Fr A / P, Gr A / P, 69, susp, 501 levis, and ball work. No FF, scat, WS, drugs, damage. Phone a must. Travel.
Box 3276.
ATLANTA PISSSLAVE WANTED 36, 6'1", 175 lbs, uncut, blond, muscular wants to subject well built B or W, 21- 35, to his raunchy imagination, who will suck his cum / piss soaked jock dry. W / s. light s / m, j / o, leather, fatigues. All photos get mine, phonenumber must. Box 3315.
ATHENS W / M
6'1", 180 red hair / beard, bodybuilder (42c-32w) seeks muscular topmen (not masters) for hot action. Ltr and foto gets mine. Roy, 124 Mulberry St., Athens, GA 30601.
ILLINOIS
LONG JOHNS
WM, 32, seeks young guys into union suit and long john underwear scenes. JWH, 450 Briar Place, #8K, Chicago, IL 60657.
W / M SLENDER SLAVE
D / b hair mustach 40 wants white master 25 to 38 w / good build. Tie me spread eagle. Face fuck and fuck me for hours. Into light T / T also CB / T. Looking for perament realationship w / right master . Hot Italian / blue eyed blond / clean trim bearded mucho / rugged cowboy / construction hunk / my choices but have your head and act together. Into loving and caring. Have my act and head together. Willing to relocate for right man. Calif / or / South West. Box 3205.
ENEMA / ASS SLAVES
2 Masters seek hot "naughty boys" under 30 to completely surrender their ass. You must be willing to submit to total complete submission, bondage, humiliation and to accept spankings,
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diapers, shaving and all forms of Gr / Fr demanded of you. And lots of old fashioned soapy enemas that will make you squirm, beg, cry. First-timers and novice welcome— limits respected. Send explicit application with photo for prompt reply. Box 3237.
GOODLOOKING HOT LEATHERBOY
24, seeks submissive guys for good times, Illinois and bordering states especially. Send nude photo for response. Box 3268.
GERMAN MASTER
Hairy men in need of discipline apply to tough but caring German (handm, blond, blue, hung, uncut). Photos are essential. Novices OK. P.O.B. 6262, Chi-cago , IL 60680.
CHICAGO MASTER, 29 Wh, 6'2", 185 lbs, macho athlete wear- ing tight levis, cycle jacket & cowboy boots w / spurs, gives obedience training to inexperienced young studs 21-30. Send photo and letter. Box 3287.
CHICAGO WHITE, 35
5'6", 145 lbs, 7" thick and cut. Wants other hot MEN for extended multi-scene action: armpits, cock, balls and hairy asshole worship, jocks, J / O, piss, fisting , ball work and photo sessions. Body hair a plus. Out-of-town / state and trainees welcome. Letter with pho- tos and qualifications gets same— pronto. Box 3305.
INDIANA
HEAVY BALL WORK Indianapolis. M, 26, 6', 180, 6½" cut, into B&D, heavy S&M. Will try anything at least once, but basic interest is heavy ball work. Turns on to Blacks, hairy men, 21-45. No fats, fems, drugs, WS or scat. Box 1549.
IOWA
EASTERN IOWA
Goodlooking young slave, 21, 6'0", 160 lbs. In need of a dominant man to enslave me. Prefer master over 40 but any age alright. I will be used and abused but am not into brutality. Race and size unimportant, Box 3304
KANSAS
SOCKS - FEET W / M, 43, 5'10", 155 seeks guy to mid- 40's for intimate friendship and sharing . Just broke up with lover of eight years. I'm into j / o and enjoy the masculine aroma of a guy's socked feet. Occu- pant, Box 2462, S.M., KS 66201.
WM, 28, 6', 180 Into rubber, beards, balds, bellies. Desperately horny in the Emerald City. Box 3294.
LOUISIANA
LEATHER / POLICE UNIFORMS
New Orleans. WM, 35, Leather, Police Uniforms, boots, B&D, S&M, Seeks same. Am turned on by touch, smell, taste and feel of Leather, High black boots, Full police uniform and gear. I seek a few discreet men into the same. Occasionally travel. Box 1579. If you wrote before and got no answer, please write again. Mixup with mail.
HUNKY UNCUT 26
Novice into bondage, moderate S&M, T.T., rimming, body worship, seeks master for initiation into leather world. piss, fisting, ball work. Must be built and respect limits - huge tits and balls a plus. Box 3286
SHORT CHUBBY SLAVE WANTED By Master, 49, 5'10", 145#, 6" uncut, Gr. act. Limits. You must be good looking.
70172.
MARYLAND
WANTED SLAVE / HOUSEBOY By Dominent MASTER put your self in my hands for a posiable lifetime send picture and full particulars why should I consider you. Master Stanley E 30- 2600 Insulator Drive Baltimore Maryland 21230
WM, 35, HANDSOME Well-built, hung, needs non-live-in man for service and be served if deserving. Have good lifestyle but very straight image. You must be a male hunk to apply. Will treat you extremely well if you can earn it. No fucking around, I'm worth it. Only with photo answered. No well-knowns or hustlers. Box 30305. Bethesda, MD 20814. Local only.
BOOTS - LEATHER
W / M, 35, 140 lbs— Love to Service Boots & Leather, will worship high boots and the men who weat them— Verbal Humiliation-Bondage-Some S / M- I am man enough to spit shine your boots— A picture and letter will get me there. Box 3308.
MASSACHUSETTS
BONDAGE SLAVE
WM, 65, is looking for a young master, 23-35, with 8" or more of uncut cock to service. Am French active and Greek passive. No drugs, FF, S&M or pain, just bondage. Plymouth Area, but am retired, can travel anywhere AMTRACK goes. Your nude photo gets mine. Box 2025.
I PHOTOGRAPH AND COLLECT Spit-shined military boots & shoes and USMC uniforms. Would like to find a
191, Milton Village, MA 02187.
HOUSEBOY / VALET / SLAVE GWM 18-23, will trade home for service. You into C&B pain. Picture, phone to: LJ, Box 124, N. Chelmsford, MA 01863.
GWM 40'S SEEKS MASTER
W / S, B / D gldn showers shaving piercing. P.O. Box 563, Boston, MA 02146.
NIPPLE FREAK - HOT NIPPLES Wants to correspond / exchange pho- tos / meet with guys into tits. Mine are really huge and always in need of a hot Send letter and picture of workout. your tits, from anywhere and I will do the same. Also interested in nipple enlargement techniques. L exchange photos / ideas. Box 3301 Let's
MICHIGAN
DETROIT AREA 4-H MAN
Hot, handsome, horny, hairy. 5'10", 145, dark brown hair, dark moustache. Into most scenes, willing to experiment and try new ones with well-endowed men. Box 3142.
SIR
Potential slave needs exp. master who, having gained my trust, will lead me to new experiences; wish to be taught to serve and obey by dominant, but understanding, master / daddy (in attitude , not necessarily in age). Your response is respectfully requested by: W. Michigan w / m, uncut, 30, 5'9", lbs., beard and moustache. Box 3203.
ROCHESTER MASTER
White, 5"10", 170 lbs., 8", master with well equipped dungeon, seeks obedient slaves. Willing to train submissive novices into SM, B&D, WS, and more. Write Robert, 1030 Adams Road, South Rochester, MI 48063.
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To serve athletic W / M, 27, into C&B, B&D and Tits. Photo & Phone, if possi- ble to Rick, Box 15342, Detroit, MI 48215
MUSCULAR BEARDED LEATHER MAN Southeastern Michigan, Into total leather, boots, jockstraps. Dig long leather play, jo, Fr a / p. Photo a must. Box 3290
SMOOTH SKINNED
5'7" w / m with solid body interested in good times. Into levi and leather scenes, considerate and versatile, cut and cum a lot. Your pleasure or mine. Enclose photo if available. P.O. Box 7502, Ann Arbor 48107
WANTED: A BLACK MAN 18-45 Topman (hung only need reply) to fuck a good looking 25 Y / O black passive bottoman. Call after 6pm. 313-863-8598 Ask for Dee.
MINNESOTA
MASTER SEEKS SLAVE TWIN CITY MASTER, 39, white, seeks permanent slave / houseboy who needs to be owned. Prefer young (however all considered), trim or muscular, clean, obedient, submissive and ready for slavery in mind. Novice okay, will train. If you know you were meant to be a slave, write submissive, groveling letter now and don't forget to include a photo. Box 3251
SLIGHT, YOUNG SLAVE WANTED Two masters rural Minn. No F.F. or scat; otherwise you will have domination and pain to your limits; respect and concern as you earn and deserve it. Write now to: J&L, Box 605, Battle Lake, MN 56515
TWIN CITIES MASTER
42-6'1"- 160 seeks bottoms for S&M tit torture C&B torture-leather, hoods, gags, wips, chims etc. Limits respected. Box 3298.
MISSOURI
NAKED, CHAINED, SHAVED Kansas City. Tattooed S, 45, 6'2", mus- cular 185, 7", wants slender man-slave
, wants slender man-slave 20-30 to be kept naked, chained and shaved for total and permanent S&M lifestyle. Apply with photo. Box 3129.
HOT M
6'1", 39, 165, can go either way but prefer bottom. Fists, hard belts, clean out assholes: You name it, you get it. Occupant, P.O. Box 27872, St. Louis, MO
63141.
ERIE JOHN
One, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Once again you've made the summer hot. Two, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Your Kerouac loves you. More please, Sir. Thank you, Sir.
NEBRASKA
OMAHA AREA
42, 5'7", 145 lbs., nice build. Looking for top man. Into 50 / 50 relationship, sharing time & pleasure. Must be aggressive lover. Not into pain, but love & companionship. Long term relation- ship desired. Privacy & fiancial inde- pendence a must. Send photo & letter. Box 3291
NEVADA
SLAVE BOY WANTED
Master seeking full time applications for slave boy. Will serve as a master sees fit. Into B&D, C&B, tit work, WS. etc. Master has complete training facil-ities to handle any slave. Slaves apply with photo (mandatory). Master is 32, 5'11", handsome. Reply to Box 1821.
NEW JERSEY
NO. JERSEY
W / M, 47, 5'11", 185. Frantic for constant sex with hot top man into verbal abuse, heavy fucking and sucking, rimming , oil, titwork, porno, feet, dildoes, poppers, leather. No pain or bondage but insatiable! Box 3273
DARK HANDSOME NOVICE
Dark GWM 30 5 7 135 lbs wants men into leather, uniforms, or bodybuilding. Handsome novice wants to fulfill fantasies . Must have own place. No heavy scenes. Photo exchange. POB 32, Leo-nia , New Jersey 07605
BANG OF THE MONTH CLUB Forming for tops 30-45 to fulfill those long pent up fantasies. I'm a Paul Neu-man type 5'8" 145 lbs thick 8" cut. Handsome studs bottom on a rotating basis.
IT HURTS SO GOOD
When you use my body for your pleasure ! Mature, Discreet partner for hot French, Greek, TT / C&BT, BB worship, Mutual FF with WM 40, 5'8", 160. No drugs, scat, fats, marks, P.O. Box 69, Belle Mead, NJ 08502.
S&M, 25
5'7", 160, 61 / 2" cut seeks fuck buddy into S&M, piss B&D Bodybuilding, Beer drinking, J / O Big Nipples and big cock.
LIVE SEX BY PHONE
Hi, I'm David. Take matters in hand & let's get off together. CALL NOW (213) 464-5301
My friends and I are waiting. M / C, VISA or send $ 25 to
R. L. JORDAN Suite #606 1765 North Highland Ave. Hollywood, Calif. 90028
NEW MEXICO
SANTA FE W / M
135, bearded, some experience, 35. begs to be bootdog suckslave for muscular , hairy, big-cocked stud who wants to fuck and fist my tight ass. Seek friendship too. Box 3316.
NEW YORK
WAY OUT S&M
Given to hot body, young, experienced or beginner M by well-equipped, levelheaded Master Send photo age, height, weight to: Box 12R, c / o Room 603, 147 West 42nd St., NYC 10036.
LI-NY BONDAGE STOCKADE
Correctional facilities for disciplining young aspiring Bondage Slaves. A strict but decent Custodian supervises caged confinement & woodland expo- sures, employing Pillory, Strait-jacket, fetters, etc. Body shaving, prolonged restraint, humiliation imposed. Also unpleasant chastisement when neces- sary for behavior control. Heavy S&M, pain, FF, Scat NOT approved. Prison- er's limits & responses, both mental & physical, closely monitored. Mutual trust, respect encouraged. Long term slavery considered. Photo necessary, sent with honest dignified application to: The Warden, 335 W. 11, NYC 10014, NV
TOTAL SLAVES WANTED Greenwich Village. Experienced S, W / m, 48, 5'9", 175 lbs. uncut, shaved head, strong Leather Master seeks slaves (novice to well-trained) for long, hot sessions. Must have endurance, crave punishment in chains. Medium to heavy S / M, B / D, etc. No scat. My motto; sane S / M; intense, not brutal; erotic, not reckless; firm but affectionate . If your head is right, write appropriate letter now. No fems, fats, takes. Box 185R.
ATTENTION SLAVES Manhattan Master, 36, 6'4", 190 lbs with slave, 32, 6'3", 170 lbs. Both are muscu- lar, blonde and attractive. You are also muscular and attractive and need to be trained and owned as a second slave. Applications without detailed resume and photo will not be considered. Box 673
200#+ BODYBUILDER SLAVE
Sought by 190# bodybuilder master in New York City. Super strong hunk with 50" chest and 19" arms wanted to take care of master who will provide live in situation. Good times for both. Send letter with recent photo. Box 3261.
WANTS YOUNG / IN SHAPE
W / m, 29, 5'11", 150 lbs, 7" cut, tight, musc., hot, handsome, short beard, straight acting, but enjoys role as slave into verbal abuse, humiliation, degradation , body worship, spit, piss & cum. Chicky, 444 Hudson St, Suite 427, N.Y., N.Y. 10014.
MASTER WITH MILITARY UNIFORM
WM, 37, 5'8", 160. Like to inflict on willing slave: B / D, verbal abuse, ass-paddling , spitting, belly-punching, face and ass fucking, enemas, face- slapping. All limits respected. No drugs. All races welcome. Photo-phone please. Box 3265
ARE YOU A MASTER OF QUALITY Not threatened by a slave of equality? I respectfully request your attn. Sir: Very Intense Man / Slave needs a master capable of understanding and responsible enough to appreciate this man's loyalty and service. Looking to trans- cend reality and combine it with the "unreal" to mutually pursue physical, emotional and mental release. I will dutifully answer all serious replies including photo and debriefing on requirements to begin your service and to gain your respect. Thank you, SIR. Box 3271
NYC WRESTLER
Seeks dominant muscular wresters who enjoy applying submission holds. Box 3275
LONG ISLAND BOTTOM
34, 5'11", 160, beautiful buns, seeks muscular young daddy to give bare- assed spanking. Box 3281.
HAIRY CHESTS
White male, 27, 190 lbs, red-brown hair and beard, masculine, thick 8 inches, wishes to meet hairy-chested males for mutual hot action. Any age or race. Send description and photo: Box 138, New York, New York 10458.
DADDY LOOKING FOR OBEDIENT SON
Straight looking age 39 Cau looking to share cottage on lake in Putnam County. Son must be under 25 Cau needing a father strict discipline. Must pay own expenses, no hustlers, fems or fats. Photo and phone. Box 3289
NYC BODY SLAVE WANTED
Your primary duty will be to serve your Master with head, heart, mouth & ass-hole . Some bondage & pain- C / B&T Torture, needles, catheters, electricity, etc. FF preferred but not essential or first. 30-45 yrs, under 5'11", over 170 lbs, Photo essential. Detailed letters with phone # will receive first consideration . No fems or skinnies. P.O. Box 131, M.H. Sta., NYC 10156. naked bondage slave wanted for stripping, shackling, shaving, suspending , piercing, penetrating, pola- roiding, into total submission drop data, pic to exp. mat. Master Mel Box No. 3296
GOOD-LOOKING BLOND
35, 5'5", 130 lbs, clean-cut guy likes to receive V / A and to service Marboro studs. Not into heavy S / M, Scat or F / F, but everything else goes, including W / S from machos. Dig big guys and cigar smokers. Box 3299.
LATIN TOP
24, 6'2", 170 lbs, working professional Seeks hairy white bottom who's stable sensual for good times and friendship. Preferences include B / D and spanking. Tri-State Area, OK. Write: DR, GPO 434 NY 10451
STRICT DI, 29
Will obedience train w / m recruits 18-40 through forced workouts, spankings. shaving and brig disciplie (212) 279- 5349. No j / o calls
NORTH CAROLINA
LEATHER HOT & TIGHT
Warm piss drunk & given, tit action & wax torture. JO. Loud FF, WS, S&M Two NC dudes hot for the tourist trade Mid-thirties, goodlooking opposites smooth / hairy. His face in your ass Your cock in mine. My hand in yours Playroom for serious hunks. Bathroom for yellow dogs. Basement for few. Visit the mountains, visit the Worlds Fair. Visit us. Box 1823.
NORTH DAKOTA
F-M AREA
Need a commanding master for a worthless slave who needs training and discipline on a regular basis: responds well to strap, enemas and other forms of pain. Please respond to Rob Jensen, Box 454, Fargo, ND 58107.
OHIO
CLEVELAND
29, 5'11", 150 lbs, hairy. I need a leather topman to expand my ass to its limits. WS, FF, TT, scat, possible piercing. No photo needed. I will surpass your expectations. Please include phone # in your answer for quickest response. Box 3156.
EXPERIENCED MASTER
55, taking applications for slave training and S / M pleasures. Limits respected and expanded. Photo and phone a must. P. Pereiere, PO Box 2252, North Canton, OH 44720
Hot young white Grad Student, body- builder, 29, new to Cleveland, "excep- tional body, mind, meat, looks," seeks tional body, mind, livad, lows, seems together guys or couples for friendship, exceptional action and possible permanent relationship. Photo-phone-details to: STEVE, Box 16416, CLEVELAND, OHIO 44116.
SEEK LOCAL FRIENDS Columbus SM, 34, 6', 180 lbs., 7", Aries, experienced. Seeks local friends under 30. I'm dominant, into bondage, tit work, clamps, and cock & balls. Have many toys and enjoy using them. Send letter with photo to: Box 20422, Colum-bus . OH 43220.
OKLAHOMA
OK CITY DADDY
45, 170 lbs., 5'10", muscular, wants submissive Daddy's boys into hot scenes. SM, B&D, WS, shaving, and all other scenes considered. You name it, you get it. Phone-Photo to Box 2099.
"BLACK LEATHER" COWBOY Rugged handsome WM 25, 150, need to rub my hot leather buldging crotch next to some other leather clad cowboy stud. Bury your face in my tight fitting leather pants or work my tight 501's Levis buttons open with your mouth while I'm wearing my chaps, jacket, and spurred cowboy boots. Let's rub leather. Photo gets mine with leather on. No nudes. Box 3115.
OREGON
NEED SPANKING?
Your naked ass redened, glowing, sensitive. Asshole, cock, balls ready for this male's use and abuse. Box 3222.
WANT ARRANGEMENT
With macho Salem stud, 20-35, to service his cock regularly. Box 3223.
BIG MAN
TOP, 40, Good looking, hairy, bearded, 6'1", 225 lbs, muscular will work your ass. cock, balls, nipples & entire body & mind. Into B&D, TT, W / S, FF, Recent photo with reply to: Pete, P.O. Box 42476, Portland, Oregon 97242.
SLAVE WANTED
Master has private 40 acre mountain forest with comfortable home, very well equipped barn training room and stone walled dirt floor dungeon. Slave will live in leather, uniform, and naked; be trained and built in body, mind and spirit. Prefer well defined, smooth body but right attitude and learning capability is more important. Master is hunky WM 5'10", 155. Photo mandatory with detailed application. Box 3302
PENNSYLVANIA
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Philadelphia. MS, Cancer, 43, 6'2", 210, white, 7" cock. Masculine Weightlifter with 48" chest, 34" waist. Leather / levi motorcyclist. Bondage and other good times with masculine partners desired. Box 23.
WILKES BARRE S Cancer, 45, 6', 170 pounds, white. 27 years military service, wants prisoners for steel bondage, hard labor in chains. interrogations. Scene is of primary importance. Limits observed. Beginners trained. No fems or fats. Box 055
TENNESSEE
LEAN, INTENSE, SENSUAL
Bi-sex man is interested in locating another natural man who realizes his need for a buddy who knows the honest gut-pleasure- through trust- of discovering and sharing the touch, smell, taste, and sound only a man comfortable with himself can provide. The energy I want to share is so basic and honest, it seems few "gays" know it exists. Long, slow, mind-n-soul fuckin' is where it all begins. If you, too, need a man who'll openly and proudly share what he knows and has, you may have found your partner! I'm 6 ft, 150 lbs; 42 yrs., greying black hair, beard, and mustache; with a natural, uncut dick that'll hang a heavy 7 inches for the buddy that talks to it right. Dig sweat, hair, holes, nipples, foreskin, lo- swingin' balls, and other natural delights. If you're interested and got the balls to talk straight, shoot a no bull-shit note my way. Travel is possible. Box 61.
TEXAS
EAGER TO LEARN Houston Area. WM, 32, 5'9", 150, willing to do anything for someone who will and train. Like moustaches. teach trimmed beards, hairy chests and legs.
Box 386
DALLAS THIRSTY AND HOT 43, 5'8", 150. Heavy piss, raunchy socks, and tit action. Photo required and exchanged. Box 3045.
CORPUS CHRISTI
Novice slave wants to learn more. W / m, 5'8", 140 lbs needs outdoor type big, masculine, hung top man. Age 35- 50. Photo and phone gets same, teach me more. I am ready to please! Box 3272
WOOD PADDLE WHIPPINGS
Dallas. Goodlooking W / M, 32, 5'10", 155, looking for men who are into either giving or receiving licks with wood paddles. Only those who are into good school-type whippings should respond. Box 3136.
LEATHER IN EXILE
W / M, 29, 5'11", 175 lbs, is more than ready for hot acton. I've been in the country too long and need hot leather-men to remind me about W / S, TT, B&D, fantasy trips and more. Willing and waiting in the pine trees of East Texas. P.O. Box 453, Queen City, TX 75525.
I'M LOOKING FOR A HANDSOME Submissive slave to train. Be prepared to give yourself totally if selected. Respond with letter and photo to Sir Box 141362 Dallas, TX 75214
BOUND AND GAGGED
Bondage slave seeks Master who is serious about total ownership and continual domination. Handsome bottom needs confinement under hand of skillful top: suspension, sensory deprivation , mummification, and immobilization in tight leather, rubber, plastic, rope, hoods, gags, plugs, harness, Your slave is a hairy WM, 29, 134 lbs. 5'11". Box 13262, Houston, TX 77219.
UTAH
TWO HOT HORNY TOPMEN
Looking for a new toy to play with. Both 36, both mean as hell. We work together, separately, and we alternate to handle the most recalcitrant of slaves. Into bondage, whipping, spanking , piss, verbal abuse, and exploration of all fantasies. Master Larry: 6'2", b / b. 175 lbs., good body. Master Michael 5'6", b / b, 145 lbs., 91 / 2" and thick. Applications will be accepted from Real slaves who can handle total domination and complete control of mind and body. Don't answer unless you mean it You will be used, abused and trained and if you get it right you might find permanence with us. Application must contain a recent photo, vital statistics, experience resume, and phone number. Send to: MASTER Larry, P.O. Box 1104. Sandy, Utah 84091
VIRGINIA
SLAVE WANTED
For permanent non live-in relationship including B / D, role playing and some T.L.C. with W / m, 39, 6'3", 190. Sharp mind and sense of humor as important as body. You are to be enjoyed and fulfilled by your master totally, not just sexually. If you qualify send detailed application to Box 3215.
INTO DRINKING HOT PISS
While a bikini clad hot male 25-40 sits on my face. Into j / o, phone or otherwise . Bikini underwear, swimsuits & cum stained, well used jock straps are favorites. Likes to be spanked, fucked and piss soaked. Dildoes are fun too. Box 3266.
BLOND, BLUE-EYED FARMER 5'10", 160 lb, in good physical shape wants a muscular / spirited dude who's into leather / levis / boots & bondage (all kinds). Let's see who captures who-for 2 hours or 2 weeks. Sweaty outdor chain-gang labor, a turn-on. Box 3292.
DEMANDING DAD
35 W / M 6' 235 blue-blonde; wants smooth masculine well-built Daddy's boy who is able to be taught and trained how to be a good son. If you are willing to be dominated and raised properly including barebottom spanking and woodshed discipline when needed, then write your sincere letter of request complete with phone number and proper photo's. Permanent rela- tionship with right individual. Who knows, perhaps this will be the last decision you ever have to make as you experience your hearts desire to be the devoted son you've always needed and longed to be. Box 3303.
WISCONSIN
FANTASIES TO REALITY Madison Master. Achieve what has been your fantasies so far in a completely totally furnished dungeon; your fantasy is mine to make a reality. Will respect all physical & psychological limits. Set-up for long weekend encounter sessions (out-of-towners). Masters who are into masters, who can handle competition are also welcome. Applications are also being taken for two slaves wanted by GWM, goodlooking, 40's, 156,6'2" brown / blue, w / trim beard / moustache and 74 cut. Reply w / frank. ltr / photo / phone. Only the very serious and dedicated need to reply to Box 3034.
NATIONWIDE
BIG HANDS, FEET AND BALLS 6'5", 195 lb., 8", 39, mustache, Faithful, level headed, intelligent, open minded, caring. Enjoy being top. Looking for a relationship with an equal or superior. Most scenes, light to heavy, especially all kinds of anal entry, heavy FF, JO, tit, genital work, leather, metal, rope, bondage, suspension, encasement, motorcycles, weight lifting. Can travel. Lets take each other all the way. Phone,
photo, letter, gets same. Box 3307
ENGLISH KICKBOXING COMBAT SLAVE
29, 5'11", 145 lbs training to undertake any full combat fights and workouts ordered and arranged by his master. Seek to contact other gladiator slaves in training. Also respectfully any combat master or bout promoter prepared to advise on my future training and battle hardning program in preparation for a full US fighting tour in early 1983. Box 3320.
CANADA
WHISTLE WHILE YOU WORK
I like a man who enjoys his work. One who smiles as he trusses me up with tubing, wires, hole stuffers and the like. He whistles when testing weights on my tit rings. Hums as the fluids pass in and out of the butt plug. And winks at me, all strung up, encased from head to foot, knowing that maybe later he's going to get it too! W / m, 5'8", 160, 7" cut. Need I say more? Box 1577
VERSATILE M
Toronto. M, Pisces, 5'10", 155, 40, blue eyes, uncut, wishes to meet dominant 25-55, who is versatile, respectful of limits, sense of humor. M has moderate experience, versatile, and into leather, toys, boots, Greek a / p, WS, bondage, discipline. Have some experience as S. No fats, fems, drugs, scat. Box B19.
HIP RUBBER BOOTS
Hairy, built, into heavy black rubber & leather tall boots and gear. 36, 5'10" 165 lbs., 8" uncut, seeks dom or mutual buddy into fishermen, firemen, scat, rimming, tit work. Photo from DISS. honest dude gets same. Come visit in country. Write: P.O. Box 13, Reserve Mines, Nova Scotia, BOA 1VO Canada.
TWO HOT BEARDED MEN 25 and 27 (5'11", 180 lbs - 5'9\%", 175 lbs) seeking contacts with hairy men. Into fucking, w / s, j.o., jockstraps, leather, dirty talk… Visiting Montreal and need a place to stay, our door is open. Write now with photo to assure fast response. Box 3288.
FOREIGN MAIL
When answering foreign ads with box numbers, remember to include the correct amount of overseas airmail postage. Current rates are 40¢ per 1 / 2 ounce. Letters without correct postage will be destroyed.
ENGLAND
WELL-HUNG TOPMAN WANTED London. 28, 6'1", 168 lbs, wants his arse and mouth fucked by well-hung hunky anyone or group, S&M and bondage topmen. If you are under 55, goodlook-ing , well-built and can satisfy me, write in detail with photo to Box 1507.
GERMANY
GERMAN SLAVE
West Germany, Slave, 32, 6'2", 170 lbs. Blond, Moustache, Blue eyes, coming several times a year to the States. Interested in meeting Masters, my age or older. Into WS, Rimming, fra / p., getting snapked. I'm Stock ting spanked, I'm Greek passive, 7' uncut. Box 1686.
FACESITTERS / FUCKERS
Dirty, ugly, German urinal-pig is availa- ble for American tops to service in public . Glorious rimmer and sucker. Try this contestant and force him. Visiting CA and NY. Visitors to Germany welcome . Box 1626.
LIMITLESS DIRTSCENES
Wanted by experienced male 42, 5'11", 160, looking for pigs into mutual and top. Tit work, piss, snot, scat, puke, enemas, sweat, beer and trips. Also have a lot of rubber and leather gear. Like oil, mud, grease, catheter, foot and boots fetish. Interested in world wide contacts. Box 3285.
SOUTH GERMANY
Two hot extra hung studs, 29, 180 lbs, and 44, 170 lbs, into three ways with good looking mature (30-50) bearded versatile masculine men. Box 3165.
MUNICH
35, 6'4", 180, handsome, aggressive looking for bearded S / M- FF- experienced studs who dig the real stuff. Photo gets mine. No scat. Box 3306.
ITALY
ACTIVE SLAVE
Italian, 38, real sportsman, brown hair, green eyes, muscular, macho type desires to service muscular master. I'm into heavy training, whips, FF, C&B and tit torture. Like to receive verbal abuse. Prefer bodybuilder, but mainly interested in right psychological approach. Travel in USA, Hospitality in Milan. Answer with photo. Box 2020.
SCOTLAND
OLD FASHIONED DADDY
Scotland and London, Experienced, Active, W / M 37, 6'5", 225 lbs, 71 / 2", uncut seeks make contact with unruly all-American boys, 21-45. Box 3312.
SERVICES
Phone Sex, (415) Ego-Trip
COUNSELING MID-COUNTIES HELP CENTER (213) 863-5817.
Cruise by Phone, (415) Ego-Trip
FRIENDS OF THE CENTER
Signal Your Commitment to the future growth of the Los Angeles Gay & Les- bian Community Services Center by becoming a member of 'FRIENDS OF THE CENTER.' For Membership information call (213) 464-7400 Ext. 251, or Write: Friends of the Center. Box 38777 Hollywood, CA 90038. Do it today. It's important.
THE CONNECTION
The Bay Areas Exciting New Gay Play Line, (415) Ego-Trip
TRY OUR PHONE CONFERENCE Meat Someone New, THE CONNECTION, (415) Ego-Trip
ORGANIZATIONS
CIGAR SMOKERS
Cigar Studs is for men who smoke and get turned on to cigars. For application & information send $1 to: POB 20604, Seattle, WA 98102.
MAVERICK ALLIANCE
Mavericks are not branded! Not part of the herd! UNCUT men are invited to write P.O. Box 372, San Francisco, CA 94101. Photo must accompany application (does not have to include face). For further info send SASE and $5 for Appli- cation & Questionnaire. Pull your skin today and get it out! Must sign and state you're 21 or over. Newsletter is much sought after and is limited. May-erick Alliance. Not for the timid of mind.
'RASSLE
Mags, pix, stories. Club with nat'l listings. $4.00: Info / cat. NYWC, 59 W. 10 Street, NYC, NY 10011
THE FOOT FRATERNITY
For the man who digs boots, shoes, sneakers, socks and other related clothing such as leather, levis, etc., who wish to contact one another. The largest group of its kind, over 700 members. For further info, write the Foot Fraternity, P.O. Box 786, San Francisco , CA 94101
LIKE TO FUCK? (OR GET FUCKED)
American-Greek Alliances: the club which gets Greek actives into Greek passives. Special discount for guys who are solely Greek active. Name, age, stamp to: POB 623AGD, NYC, NY 10013
TRY OUR PHONE CONFERENCE Meat Someone New, THE CONNECTION, (415) Ego-Trip
IF THE SHOE FITS - SUCK IT!
Footman: 3rd year of the legendary boot, shoe, socks, sneakers and bare feet club! Name, age, stamp to: Box 623FMD, NYC, NY 10013.
THE CONNECTION
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INTERCHAIN INTERNATIONAL
Contact organization for the macho man. Information: Box 410, 132 West 24th Street, New York, NY 10011 or call (212) 929-5078. Leave name and address until 11pm EST
Cruise by Phone, (415) Ego-Trip
JOIN CHIRON
Men & youngmen! On the hunt for oppo- sites? Join Chiron, the hot new classi- fied pages, recognition club and mag! Find your master, stud, brother, rookie, sarge! Send $3 for info-pack to Chiron, Box 416D Vill Sta, NYNY 10014 (350 Blkr).
NEED A FLOW JOB? Join Elegant Extracts! The enema club for men into shooting the tube with other enema men. Name, age, stamp to P.O. Box 623-EED, NYC, NY 10013.
WESTERN NEW YORK'S Newest Pen Pal Club. For information write: Club 201, PO Box 201, Buffalo, New York 14201
Phone Sex, (415) Ego-Trip
PISS SOMEONE OFF!
Rainmakers: the ultimate water sports club for guys into giving / receiving golden showers. Name, age, stamp to: Box 623RMD, NYC NY 10013.
WANTED
DRUMMER IS LOOKING FOR MODELS
Leather Uniform Men Call Gunner at Drummer (415) 864-3456
MODELS NORTHERN CAL
Cruise by Phone, (415) Ego-Trip
SAN FRANCISCO
Masculine, muscular, aggressive, hairy chest, furry legs & butt. 5 ft 9 in. 148 lbs, brown hair, frim beard. Big uncut prick, 9 inches. A versatile man with a muscular receptive rear. Age 34. A professional man. Photo available for two dollar. Write Boxholder, P.O.
Birth Certificates 🙉 DIPLOMAS - WILLS -
Marriage Certificates, High School and College Diplomas, Last Will & Testament (Blank Forms), Any 2 for $2.50, All 5 for $3.50, Prompt Condidential Service. Available only to persons 21 or over from ARTEK FORMS, 7471 Melro
Love to Masturbate!
I'll take all my clothes off so you can watch me as I do it just for you!!!
6 Snapshots …$1.00
18 More …$2.00 8mm Home Movie …$5.00
LESLYE, Box 61, Dept. 5595 Glendale, CA 91209
12 different men report how each actually INCREASED PENIS SIZE! 12 men - 12 different success techniques to choose from! Dozens of photos show amazing size gains some men can attain!
Order book #45 $8.95
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Swedish Magnifier + Instruction Book $24.95 Instruction Book (sold separately) $3
SPECIAL COMBINATION OFFER!
MEDICAL RESEARCH INSTITUTE Dept 5595 9903 Santa Monica Blvd.
Beverly Hills, CA 90212
Box 5171, S.F., CA 94101. Fee is negotiable. Douglas (415) 885-1831.
TRY OUR PHONE CONFERENCE Meat Someone New, THE CONNECTION, (415) Ego-Trip
BONDAGE MASTER
Seeks experienced and / or respectful and interested trainees for extended training sessions in restraint and sensory isolation using rope, special leather gear, ace bandages and other unusual gear. Handsome / endowed bondage bottom (Drummer 48 center-fold ) available upon request. Special arrangements can be made for long term restraint. $100 minimum. Detailed letter / foto to: Mark Chester, POB 42501, SF, CA 94101 (415-621-6294).
Phone Sex, (415) Ego-Trip
THE CONNECTION
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MODELS SOUTHERN CAL
WANT FUN IN LA?
Stud long, thick and uncut for hire. Flexible. Also leather / S / M. Box 5191, El Monte, CA 91734.
MODELS FLORIDA
JERRY AND FRIENDS
Escort & Model Service— Large Selection Available— All Scenes Considered 813-541-2528. Travel unlimited.
MODELS ILLINOIS
-CHICAGO-
Model / Escort, 28, 130 lbs, 5'7", 71 / 2", (312) 871-8675
MODELS MINNESOTA
MAN-TO-MAN
All scenes explored, fantasies fulfilled Safe, trustworthy, honest. (612) 699- 4160
MODELS NEW YORK
A BOTTOM FOR TOPS Scenes a specialty (212)741-5023
AN AMERICAN CLASSIC UNCUT AND LEATHER BOUND (212) 496-6578
EMPLOYMENT
HELP WANTED
Distributing our Caine Incenses. Here's your chance to make an unlimited amount of money distributing our NEW chemical breakthrough! Peruvian Rock or Bolivian Flake "Incenses." Very minimal cash investment needed, 100% Satisfaction Guaranteed, For samples and more information send $2.00 to Kaniper Distributor's P.O. Box 411-D, Dixfield, ME 04224, Void in Wis, and N.D. Not intended for illegal use. (11 High St.)
RESORTS
RUSSIAN RIVER GUEST HOUSE
Luxurious private rooms, enclosed sundeck and yard, beautiful garden setting. Close to everything. Easy to find. Friendly service. Playrooms available . Meals by arrangement. Santa Rosa pickup service. Save money AT THE RIVER and have more fun!
AT THE RIVER Frank & Erick
(707) 887-9130
KEY WEST
The island for all seasons. For free map and brochure: (800) 327-4834 or Key West Business Guild, P.O. Box 1208-04, Key West, FL 33040.
TRAMWAY INN HOTEL
2249 N. Palm Canyon Drive, Palm Springs. The Meeting Place at low summer rates. A cool Pool
MAIL ORDER
MAIL ORDER NOTICE
The California law now reads that anyone conducting a mail order business , or offering items for sale through the mail and using a post office box or mail drop service, must reveal in all advertising the address at which the business is being conducted. To advertisers , this address must be included in all ad copy., To readers, the address that appears at the end of a mail order ad (in parentheses) is the address required by state law. Most firms will still prefer that correspondence be sent to the listed box number
DISCOUNT PRICES
Hardware — Rush Quicksilver—Cum
5 @$2.40 each, 10 @$2.20 each. Butyl Nitrite-Shotgun-Head-Blast: 5 @$2.00 each, 10 @$1.85 each. Mix or match. Add $2.00 postage. Send for free price list of other items. H&M Discount Records, Box 3895, Miami, FL 33169. (131 SE 1st Ave)
EX-GI BOTTOM
Hot JO Phone Fantasy. Ready for your orders, Sir! M / C & Visa. Call (213) 669- 8255. Ask for Joe
ENEMA EQUIPMENT
Fun, Funky Enema Equipment for practical cleanliness, pleasure or disci- pline. Other Ass-oriented toys also. Catalog $2. Art Hamilton, 315 West 4th Street, New York, NY 10014.
S&M, B&D, WS, FETISHES
Classified ad mag with hot drawings and stories. Send $2.50 and over 21 statement to: SMADS, Suite 1112, Box 66973, Houston, TX 77006.
HOT JO PHONE FANTASY
Verbal Abuse, Humiliation, etc. Low rates, M / C & Visa. Call (213) 669-8255. Ask for Marshall
HOT S&M AUDIO TAPES
By Drummer's Frank O'Rourke, Contact: Hatfield House, Box 14128, San Francisco, CA 94114.
THE NATIONAL MARCH ON WASHINGTON
A high-quality Ip documentary of the historic March on Washington for Gay Rights, including speeches, conversations , and rallys. A moving tapestry of sounds and emotions. Limited availability . $9 (includes postage / handling) from: Studstore, 15 Harriet, San Francisco , CA 94103
MANIFEST BACK ISSUES
While they last: April 1982 and May 1982 issues are available for $2 each (First Class add $1) from: The Stud-store , 15 Harriet, San Francisco, CA 94103.
EROTIC PORTFOLIO
The original Joe Johnson unbound portfolios of erotic male nudes. Eight oversized lithos ready for framing. Original price: $45. Few remaining. First 25 orders can have one of the original portfolios for $25 postpaid from: The Studstore, 15 Harriet, San Francisco , CA 94103.
LARSEN LEATHERS
(new & used motorcycle gear) Rt 1, Box 425 Christiansburg, VA 24073 1-703-382-4668
THE ALTERNATE BACK ISSUES
Rare back issues of America's most controversial and exciting gay magazine . Number 17: First interview with The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, complete text of Daniel Curzon's play Beer and Rhubarb Pie and George Bir-misia's How Come You Don't Dig Chicks, Von Gloeden portfolio, and Boston's Gay History. Number 15: Robin Tyler interview, Arimondi portfolio , Nuki portfolio, Carson McCullers biography. Either issue, while they last, $2. (post paid) First class add $1. Stud-store , 15 Harriet St, San Francisco, CA 94103.
USED JOCKS
Worn for you by hot, hunky studs. $10. GLM Ent. P.O. Box 5535, Bellevue, WA 98006. (14702 Hwy 99, Lynnwood)
RUSH!
The liquid incense with NEW Power-Pak Pellet 0.40 fl. oz. ONLY $4.00 contains isobutyl nitrite. Void in Mass. Send to Kaniper Distributor's P.O. Box 411-D, Dixfield, ME 04224. Satisfaction Guaranteed . Distributor Inquiries Welcome. (11 High St.)
NUDE YOUTHS OF EUROPE!
Exclusive Photo Sets featuring the YOUTHS of North Europe! For catalog- /sample, send $2, plus signed state ment that you are over 18. THE BRANDENBURG STUDIO, 120 Wall Street, Dept. MT, New York, New York 10005
SAN FRANCISCO GAY GUIDE 1981-82 Advocate Gay Visitor's Guide to San Francisco, special close out sale. only $3.95 each, postpaid from: The Studstore, 17 Harriet, San Francisco.
PLACES OF INTEREST
200 pages of maps and guide to the great gay places in the USA and Canada . Information in five languages. The best gay guide book ever published 1982 Edition, postpaid, $7.50 from: The Studstore, 17 Harriet St., San Fran- cisco, CA 94114.
EAT CHRISTIANS
The button that says if all to the Moral Majority! White background with lavender type, delux clasp-back. One dollar postpaid from: 6.S.P.S., Box 14551, San Francisco, CA 94114.
EROTIC NOTECARDS
Bondage, Shaving, WS drawings on large 51 / 2x81 / 2 art stock cards with blank insides, protective envelopes. A mixed dozen cards by Drummer artist Charles Musgrave for $5 (postpaid). Musgrave, 25 Glendale, S.F., CA 94114.
SERENDIPITY MAGAZINE!
Just out! Hot new issue! Get your copy! SASE brings details: Serendipity, Box 6466-D, San Francisco, CA 94101
USED JOCKS / SHORTS
Worn by heavily hung leather / Levi & college studs. Send SASE: Box 5191, El Monte, CA 91734.
GAY CONTACTS NATIONWIDE
'GOLDENROD" magazine has hundreds hottest gay / bi personals, wild nude photos, addresses, phones. Plus articles , advice. Latest 80 page issue— $7.00. Goldenrod, 147 West 42nd, #603-M, NYC 10036.
PAEAN
New Dimensions for the Male Form in Photography. Get it now! $7.50 post- paid from Wings Distributing Co., 15 Harriet Street, San Francisco, CA 94103. MC / VISA
THE CARE AND TRAINING OF THE MALE SLAVE II
Only $9.95 plus $.50 postage and handling to: Wings Distributing Co., 15 Harriet Street, San Francisco, CA 94103. MC / VISA
TELEPHONE NUMBERS
DRUMMER and MANIFEST will now accept verified telephone numbers in personal ads. Please add $1 to the cost of the ad if a telephone number is included in the ad copy. If necessary, please indicate to us the best time(s) to verify the number. Commercial ads (Services, Models, Travel, Resorts, Employment, For Sale, etc.) may have telephone numbers included in their advertising provided that advertisers can provide a business card, letterhead or other printed material on which the phone number to be used appears. There will be no exceptions.
YOU CAN NOW LIST YOUR PHONE NUMBER $1 VERIFICATION!
FRANK O'ROURKE author of
DRUMMER'S
Captian Morgan & Prison Punk n a New Series of Hard-Assed Male-on-Male Cassette Tapes
S / M Action & Advice From The Master
Please send me:
Title Introductory Lecture
THE MASTER No. 1
THE SLAVE No. 1 WHIP FIRE (Live Whipping Action)
PORN CALLS
SAILING TO HELL
Total Tapes x $10.00 Shipping & Handling (Calif. Residents add 61 / 2%
2.00
Total
I certify that I am over 21 years old.
Signature Date We cannot fill your order without your signature . Enclose check or money order to: Date
HATFIELD HOUSE P.O. BOX 14128
SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94114
(31 Rogers / SF, CA)
The ONLY appearance of MR. SUPERCOCK in a gay film. When John unleashes his massive 12 inch cock-it will leave you gasping as much as it did his ass-hole buddy. A real collectors item!
#F2 - "MEN FOR RENT"
Hard action story of what really happens between male models and the photographers who hire them. This film runs the whole gamut on boy / boy sex!
#F3 - "GREEK LOVE"
Rare footage of sex super stars Rick Cassidy and Jack Dakota seen in hot, aggressive, ecstatic sex! Not to be missed!
*Film reels will contain approximately 185 ft.
All films available in reg. 8 mm color ANY ONE FILM $14.95 . ALL THREE FILMS $30
NO PROJECTOR?
Try our convertible 8mm / super 8 200 Ft. FILM VIEWER only $12.95 with the purchase of any film
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VIEWER ALONE $19.95
RODS & REELS Dept. 5595 7313 Melrose Ave. Los Angeles, Ca 90046
I enclosed $_ _ □ Cash □ Check □ M.O
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VIEWER; □ W / film . . $12.95 □ Alone . . $19.95
NAME. ADDRESS _
CITY_ STATE ZIP
#4. Macho Stud #3.Backdoor Way #5. Group #2. Long LES - Box 61, Dept. 2568, Glendale, CA 91209
Not satisfied with the size of your penis? Now a NEW 6" 9" book pursues all possible penis enlargement methods in defail 60 actual HOW-TO-DO-IT photos. Also includes before and after photos. Must be 21 years or older. State your age send $6 to ALL MAN Dept 2568 6311 Yucca St., Hollywood, Ca. 90028
PHONE SEX HORNY? So am I as I hold my big hot cock in my hand. You're there looking at me, thinking how great you could cum with me. Do it. Call me, I also have some fantastic buddies for you. We JIM do it all.
BIG RODS HOTLINE (213) 419-2204 24 hrs
VISA / MC / Diners / Carte Blanche
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□ Regular model $8.95 □ Custom model $10 Dept. 2568 send to: TITAN TEN
WELCOME TO THE DRUMMER COMPUTOR BULLETIN BOARD
DRUMMER ENTERS THE COMPUTER AGE WITH YOUR OWN COMPUTER BULLETIN BOARD! It's FREE and available to any and all DRUMMER readers! If you are a LEATHER FRATERNITY member, you will be sent a special code to get you on to additional levels of the computer circuit for the hottest discipline questionnaire you have ever been subjected to. Simply call (415) 552-7671 to connect your computer with the LEATHER FRATERNITY computer. The instructions will flash on your screen but keep both hands on the keyboard!
50
WHAT DO YOU GET FOR YOUR SEVENTY-FIVE BUCKS WHEN YOU JOIN THE LEATHER FRATERNITY?
First, a twelve-issue subscription to DRUMMER FIRST CLASS (that's $55 right there). Twelve insertions of your ad in Drumbeats (One per issue, naturally. That's about another $50 or $60 depending on how wordy you are). You get free mail forwarding, Box number if you wish. and the passwords into the inner realm of the DRUMMER computer program. Ocassionally you even get a newsletter of what is happening around the coutry. It is quite a deal and if you aren't quite sold yet, send a buck (applicable if you join) for our brochure to THE LEATHER FRATERNITY. 15 Harriet Street, San Francisco. CA 94103.
Everything for the S and M COMMUNITY from large racks to small leather toys, books, novelties, etc. For a complete illustrated catalog send $2.- to:
R.F.M. PRODUCTS
P.O.BOX 1021 GLENDORA, CALIFORNIA, 91740 (Must state you are over 21)
MAN TO MAN PHONE ACTION
Hot men into your fantasy
MAX
UN-CUT LEATHER MASTER VERBAL ABUSE A SPECIALTY
JIM
SOLID MUSCLE, SUPER HUNG ALL MAN TOP OR BOTTOM
MICK
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6
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OUT LUBES EM ALL
Anal Lube Not Spicy Chinamon, $5.95 Arial Lube Natural Inscentive 55.55
Kings Men Ltd.
P.O. Box 304 Cambridge, Mass. 02139
House of Bondage Catalog $5.00
DRUMMER SHOPPER
BOOTS
20" Engineer Boots with Vibram Soles: $170.00 Other Styles Available Catalogue 50¢
OT BOOTS
SAFECO BOOTS
The best supplier (maybe even the biggest) of regulation safety boots. Write to: Jim of Safeco Boots
Box 23764 San Jose, CA 95123
Montgomery Leathers
Please answer to Drawer 100 Due to new Canadian postal rates,a flat rate of $2.00 per order to S&H
BOX 161, AGINCOURT ONTARIO, CANADA M1S 3B6
Illustrated 32 page Catalogue containing over 250 items: $4.00 plus 75¢ pos- tage. Wholesalers and Retailers welcome (Refunded on first order of $35.) Buying catalogue puts you on mailing list automatically. Must state legal age. Visa-Chargex-MasterCard.
$10.95 plus $1.25 (postage & handling) check or money order Tom of Finland
Calif. residents add 6% sales tax
GO HAND
ALWAYS TAN allows you to TAN WITHOUT BURNING. Results are visible after your first visit. Reservations accepted, but have no reservations about coming. Complimentary visits available. Most important, we offer results.
SAN FRANCISCO, 550 Castro 626-8505 BOSTON, 279 Newberry Street 236-4363
THE DRUMMER SHOPPER
A FULL-COLOR FULL-VIEW SET OF TWELVE MOUTH-WATERING PHOTOGRAPHS OF THIS YOUNG MAN BEING TOLD TO PULL HIS UNDERPANTS DOWN AS HE SUBMITS TO HIS FIRST ENEMA.
Yours to enjoy for fifteen dollars plus one-fifty for insured postage and careful handling.
THE DAVID BARTON-JAY PROJECTS Suite 3156, 175 Fifth Avenue New York, New York 10010
THE ENEMA AS AN EROTIC ART
And Its History by David Barton-Jay
More than 200 pages filled with pictures and exciting descriptions uncovering secrets, uncovering techniques, uncovering behinds.
Yours to savor for thirty-five dollars plus two-fifty for insured postage and discreet handling.
THE DAVID BARTON-JAY PROJECTS Suite 3156, 175 Fifth Avenue New York, New York 10010
MOVIES A
LOLA: THE KEY TO FASSBINDER
Once upon a time, in a post-war West German town, a new building commissioner , Von Bohn, an outsider, arrives to assume his post. He takes a room in a boardinghouse, seemingly austere for his position, and begins to tackle the chores of his office in a dour, humorless manner. Although he is adept at meaningless conference speechmaking , which he immediately demonstrates to the town elders, he does not seem to match his environment. The reconstruction boom is dominated by a corrupt building contractor, Schuckert, who is used to bending the law and brib- ing public officials to get his way. He is not motivated as much by the greed of money as he is by the greed of class; his sometimes petty corruptions are devices to separate the right people from the wrong people. In post-war Ger- many, the wrong people are all nonconformists .
Von Bohn is not a man entirely without passions, but sees himself as a peacemaker more than a maverick. His policies are those of compromise within the framework of regulation. Although he is democratically patriotic, he is viewed by the ruling elite with varying degrees of suspicion.
Schuckert, wealthy and hedonistic, has a mistress— the fetching fireball Lola- who lives and works in a local whorehouse. Lola is a symbol of her country during the post-war era, a prostitute suffering the perversions of for- eigners, a survivor bent on achieving independence and power.
It is fated that Von Bohn, a widower, and Lola should meet, that Von Bohn should be unaware of her situation or identity, but be taken with her to the point of obsession. Equally, Lola sees in Von Bohn her means to an end: respec- tability, security, the illusions of power. The conflicts between these three characters in Ranier Werner Fass-binder's Lola, one of the last films he completed before his death earlier this year, make up a simple level in the film. The other levels, reiterations of the same conflicts, use the characters as metaphors for Germany's reconstruction period as well as metaphors for Germany's pre and post war history. With The Marriage of Maria Braun and Veronika Voss, Lola forms a trilogy that covers post-war German social mores during three decades.
But beyond that, Lola is the key to Fassbinder's mise en scene; it incorporates his major themes and motifs, redefines a great deal of his personal cinematic style, and meshes his prolific outpouring into a cohesive, uncluttered , linear narrative that is, above all, more than it seems.
Fassbinder's two great themes, the failure of social orders and the illusion of fidelity, are connecting threads in all three of these films, at their most pronounced in Lola. While Lola, Von Bohn, and Schuckert readily assume post-war characteristics— policy versus corrup- tion versus the betrayal of ideology— they are also pre-war symbols and the
analogy drawn is that there is little inherent difference between the Ade-nauer era and the cultural wasteland that let Hitler blossom; fate or chance decided the outcome of each.
Visually, Lola is Fassbinder's most 'painted' film since The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant; he has used pastel colors from the cold war years like previous filmmakers used the subtle gradations between black and white, a chairoscuro of pink, blue, rose, lavender and turquoise that fills sets designed in the shapes of the 1950s: triangles and squares left over from the Bauhaus period mixed with the kidney-form of the Eisenhower years. Everywhere there is the texture of color and shape offsetting shape and color. Characters move from the light of one hue into another in some of the most elegantly painful long shots ever attempted. In fact, Fassbinder's editing style in Lola reminds the viewer of Bergman seen from a distance, the Swedish close-up now a medium shot in which the slight- est movement delineates a wealth of emotion, motivation, development or plot progression.
Unlike the artifice of Chinese Roulette or the hysteria of The Third Generation, in Lola Fassbinder manipulates each frame and every cut in a structured rhythm that is so well conceived it becomes a course in film structure— an effect not lost on the uneducated viewer; Lola moves with a controlled pace that lulls the audience into accepting a resolution that does not come as a surprise. In fact, little in Lola, in terms of the narrative line, is expected to surprise . From the introduction of each character we can assume, correctly, his or her destiny. And that is part and parcel of Fassbinder's feelings about the era in which the film takes place. But unlike the 'small' film that examines a character or situation and goes for 'mood' or 'style,' Lola is an epic about small people whose megalomania had an epic effect on their equally small environment. The importance of small town politics and betrayals, the faithlessness of the ruling class in the post war years, the petty deceits of prostitutes and building contractors become paramount only for the banal bourgeoisie.
There is a correlation between Ade-nauer's Germany and Eisenhower's America, chilling when seen from this distance of cultural perspective and time. In Veronika Voss, Fassbinder brought his history to the next decade, and the first drug wave in Europe. In The Third Generation a present-day theme, terrorism, showed Fassbinder's thesis that each generation practices terror- ism. In all these films the same message underlies the narrative; all social orders fail, regardless of their nobility or intentions- if indeed there is anything noble in rules and regulations. But, equally, in Lola and all of Fassbinder's work, people fail, both themselves and each other. Sort of damned if you do and double-damned if you don't.
John W. Rowberry
(10)(10(10)(10)(10) RITE
THE DIVINE FIST
Is fist fucking part of the S / M scene? Through the years I have responded, "No." "No." Years ago, many people felt that it fell under the broad canopy of S / M, but I never agreed. Purusha Larkin, author of The Divine Androgyne (Sanctuary House, 1982, 200 pages, $25.00), emphasized the fact that S / M and fisting are not mutually synonymous when I spoke with him at his home in Southern California. The Divine Androgyne is an aesthetically eye-catching book and will certainly look great on a coffee table. If you are an aficianado of anything you can discover all sorts of quotes and reasons to justify your likes. Purusha has done this very well.
As a scholar and former monk, Purusha has hung his logical disquisition on the hook of Oriental religions and rational philosphy. Purusha sees the body as a temple which most people fail to understand and are afraid to get into. From this standpoint, one might seriously consider fisting as an exercise in sadomasochism. Many heavy sadists would disagree with this because they see fisting as a selfish, one-sided scene the fistee controls and from which realizes all of the pleasure. Other tops see it as a power play; the very idea of having a fist and arm up another person's ass turns them on.
Personally, the logic of Purusha was rather shallow and specious, since it was an exercise in self-justification. This is not condemnatory of the book because I am certain that those people who are equivocal about the fisting scene may find some reinforcement here.
25 bucks is a lot of money for this sort of reinforcement, but the money is not a total waste because you will have a unique conversation piece and a well- assembled book for your guests to eyeball while you are resting up before the next session.
In conclusion, I must say that if I was looking for a champion for fist fucking, Purusha would head my list. There is no doubt in my mind that the man is sincere and has a total dedication to his scene. If you want to understand the scene from a philosophical standpoint, then get the book.
Frank Hatfield
BOOK NOTES
Chances are, even if you don't normally read science fiction, that you read, or have at least heard of, Robert Hein-lein . His biggest mass-audience success (he has had a large number of successes, but mainly among sci-fi readers), Stranger in a Strange Land, was one of those rare works that become instant classics. The protagonist, Valentine Michael Smith, and the concept of grok-king were words to be heard on lips everywhere. Well, watershed as that work was, it pales when stacked up to Heinlein's latest, Friday.
Friday ("My mother was a test tube, my father was a knife") is Heinlein's most original creation, an artificial person with a heart of gold and a mind like a steel trap. She was created to represent the ultimate in genetic engineering-humanlike , intelligent; a combination of artificial flesh impossible to tell from the real things, and electronic circuitry the likes of which we can still only imagine is possible. Friday is an agent for an interplanetary organization the scope of which we can also only guess at- and the fast-paced novel puts Friday and her employers through their paces as we witness the shift and refocus of galactic power from one hand to another. Friday (Holt, Rinehart & Winston ; 1982; $14.95), while strictly shot- through with Heinlein's own conceptions of family, love and betrayal, is as bold an examination into sexual identity as one could hope for; Friday's lesbian tendencies fit consistently with Heinlein's carreerful of searching for a pan-sexual solution to the missionary position. Not to be missed.
Bom-Crioulo: The Black Man and the Cabin Boy by Adolfo Caminha, translated by E.A. Lacey (Gay Sunshine Press; 1982; trade paperback; $7.95) owes a great deal of its value to its historical significance. This Portuguese 19th century novel of the love affair between a South American sailor, Bom-Crioulo, and a young cabin boy is strictly melodrama for today's audience, and its high tone of morality, which rings so artificial now, was a real shocker when it was first published. Bom-Crioulo, for all his clandestine approach to his own homosexuality , is an amazingly 'up-front' gay man. The tragedy that ends the book is, however , to be expected.
Much more rewarding is The Boy From Beirut by Robin Maugham, nephew of the legendary Somerset. Robin, however, is equally well regarded as one of the more important post-war authors. The Boy From Beirut is a collection of short pieces by Robin combined with a sterling interview in which he talks about his uncle at great length. Robin's fiction, a good deal of which is based on experiences from his own life, is beautifully written. His openness about his own gayness and his treatment of gay characters in his short stories make him perhaps more fetching than his ancestor. The Boy From Beirut (Gay Sunshine Press; 1982; trade paperback ; $7.95) is a literary delight.
- Charles R. Musgrave
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NEAD
In previous columns, I have warned readers about the listings of guys in the joint who are seeking correspondents. I have urged the readers to take a chance helping someone in the joint, because these men need your support. Remember, they are our brothers, men who are gay and are looking for that bit of correspondence which will make their imprisonment that much more bearable.
Now, I have discovered an organization which will help to clear out a lot (but not all) of the deadbeats who prev on the gay community with their confidence games— FOUNDATION. THE PROMETHEUS
THE Prometheus Foundation's mailing address is 495 Ellis Street, Suite 2352, San Francisco, CA 94102. If you have legitimate gripes about anyone you have started writing, they will investigate and put that person on an undesirable list. Henceforward, we will submit a list of names that we plan to print in this magazine to Prometheus for them to check out in their files. If they have run con games before, Prometheus will let us know and we will not publish their names. This is not a guarantee that they know everyone who misuses you guys, but we will minimize the risk.
If, for some reason, you do not want to contact Prometheus directly, then send your letter to me and I will see they get the pertinent information. Prometheus operates on a limited budget and needs whatever donations they can get so, if you have a few spare bucks, then you might consider sending them some money. I am sure they will appreciate it. So, dig into your jeans and see if you can help them.
The California Department of Corrections reversed its plan to stop the publication of prison newspapers and magazines. The reason given, originally, was to save $58,000 the State had budgeted for this program. Since there was such a hue and cry in the straight press, the CDC reversed itself. I understand that the real reason was because the prisoners at Soledad Prison were taking the administration to court over censorship. The case is still pending. The San Quen-tin News has always been one of the finest examples of penal journalism and it established a format which prison publications across the country tried to follow. I remember years ago when I started a small publication at the Kansas State Industrial Reformatory at Hutchin-son , called The Harbinger, I always looked for the SQ News for a lot of my copy. Administrations have always used these publications as vehicles for their own propaganda and the strength of the periodical depended on the strength of the editor to fight for what he believed in and the progressiveness of the head of the institution who permitted this free expression. No prison publication can hope to exist if it promotes violence and riots, but it can work for the benefit of all convicts if it honestly reports the news. To a greater or lesser degree, it can help to shape the environment in which these guys find themselves. Too often the publication becomes an ego trip of the particular editor, but this type of editor doesn't last long. Support your local pen press. Some damn good writers have emerged from these publications and they have gone on into the freeworld to some sort of writing career.
Someone asked me why I do not use the term "inmate" in my columns. It's a personal aversion for the term and a dislike other men in prison have for it. "Inmate" has the connotation of a voluntary status and is promoted by prison officials along with the more ridiculous term "resident." Uncover all of the bullshit and you discover the guy is a prisoner or a convict. I do not find that a demeaning term. Inmate and resident are effete terms which try to make it more palatable to a guy who can't face up to the fact that he's in the slammer. I've met cons who refine the terms a bit more. They say a "convict" is a standup dude who won't snitch, a dude who figures his word is his bond, and a dude who has principles. Also, they say an inmate is a weak, pusillanimous turd who would turn his mother in if it would benefit him. A prisoner is a dude who is trying to do his number (prison number) without causing any waves. I plan to use convict and prisoner interchangeably, but I will not use inmate because I feel it demeans the guy behind bars.
Now, some of you are probably wondering why I listed only names and addresses in the last issue. A good question . You wouldn't believe the number of guys who ask to be listed and if I included the descriptions, etc., there would be a goodly number of men who could not be listed. If you would prefer that a column not be written and only the names and vital statistics be published , let me know. Believe me, it would not break my heart. If this is what you want, I will clear the names with Prometheus and run only names from here on in. I need some input on this.
When you hear of a guy in prison who is constantly in trouble with the officials, you are prone to believe that this man will never be able to make it on the streets. Surprisingly, this is not always the case. In many instances this sort of man is more likely to make it on the outside because he refuses to be regimented , to lose his identity as a human being, and he becomes so very difficult. He makes a personal vow never to return to prison again. I have recently heard of just such a person- Scott McKinney, No. 21025, Box 41, Michigan City, IN 46360— a 17 year old who is bisexual and adamant that he will never return to prison. Those who adjust very well in prison are in danger of becoming institutionalized to the point of where they become social cripples, unable to function in the free society and can only adjust in a highly structured environment such as prison. I am not advocating insurrection and rebelliousness by any means. A man must learn to abide by the rules because rules are the essence of a stable society. I am, however, making the point that men such as Scott must not be discarded, because they have the potential to making it on the outside. If any of you are interested in writing this young man, do so. You could make a material difference in whether he makes it on the outside or goes back to prison. Scott is 6'1" tall, weighs 190 pounds, and he wants some input from the outside.
If there are topics you would like to see in "Con Rap", write me in care of Drummer and I will try to address them. This is not only the convicts' column, it is the freeworld readership's also.
Jay Bates
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This slave is just waiting to serve you: fist him, fuck him, pierce him, wet him down, work on his tits and balls, use his mouth to clean your ass; just respect his limits. Joe Ski, 4601 W. Weldon, Phoenix, AZ 85031.
JOE / ARIZONA
If 62", 165 lbs., hung (see photo), rough, raunchy (the dirtier the better) sounds like something you'd like to tangle with, then Dan, the Man from British Columbia is waiting to find out what you got on your mind. Write: Drummer.
JEAN / PARIS
Perverted bottom interested in hearing you see is what you get. Message to: from creative tops visiting France. What Jean, T.C. 1043.
MARK / CHICAGO
Mark can be either a tough customer or, for the right guy, a daddy; but is at his best in bondage. This 26 year old would like to be a prisoner to someone who can hand out discipline. Mark, Box 534, W. Chicago, IL 60185
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BOY SCOUTS BRANDED IN INITIATION
(Huntsville, MO) Two men have admitted branding six Boy Scouts with a wire coat hanger as part of an initiation rite, authorities said.
One Scout, who refused to go along with the branding, said that he was threatened with castration but that the other Scouts had apparently not tried to escape and had not refused to take part in the ceremony.
J.D. Gatzmeyer, 37, and Kenneth Willard, 19, both of Huntsville, were charged with six counts of second-degree assault in connection with the incident, authorities said.
Both are free on $10,000 bond and both have been suspended from Scouting activities pending an investigation.
Reached at his home Gatzmeyer said only, "No comment."
When told of Gatzmeyer's response, the first comment of Jackie Baxley, whose two sons were among the seven boys on the camping trip, was, "He's out of jail, then.
Mrs. Baxley said she had been besieged by questions and did not want to discuss the problem over the phone. She said her sons, 15 and 11, had been members of the Boy Scout troop "only a matter of months." Both, she said, were branded during the campout.
"There may be scarring although we don't know as yet, she said, adding that both boys have been examined by two doctors.
Six Boy Scouts, ranging in age from 11 to 15, were branded with a coat the Arrow. hanger in what one of the Scouts des- cribed as a "ritual." lard applied the hanger, which had been heated in a bonfire. The hanger had reportedly been twisted into the shape of male genitals.
One of the victims said the Sqouts were branded on their hips or arms.
"We thought it was a joke," the 12- year-old said. "We just weren't really thinking. I was pretty scared. He (Gatz-meyer ) said if we didn't do it, we wer-en't a man.'
Authorities said the Scouts were told that the branding was part of a Scout ing ceremony known as the Order of
"He (Gatzmeyer) swore us to cribed as a "ritual."
One of the Scouts age 12 said Gatz-meyer sat on each boy egs while Wil-wear -old Scout said. secrecy, or we wouldn't be able to go on any more camping trips," the 12- the 'manly thing to do.
"I am innocent," Willard said. "Nothing's really come out in the open yet." Willard, whose father is the pastor of the First Christian Church in Huntsville, declined to answer any more questions.
Sheriff Orville Price said parents were "outraged" by the incident. He said there was no indication the Scouts were forced to participate, because one left without being chased.
We kind of wondered why one left and the rest had the chance (to leave) but stayed," Price said
Price said the Scouts told authorities they had allowed themselves to be branded because they were told it was
IT TAKES BOTH BALLS TO BE A BASQUE COP
In Vitoria, Spain, the autonomous Basque government has released 147 prohibitions for police officer candidates, including "missing or total loss of the penis or testicles." While it is widely rumored this regulation is to prevent women from becoming peace officers, one wonders about some of the other no-no's: a shaved head, large hemorrhoids, a high voice, and extreme stuttering. That leaves out about half the Los Angeles Police Department.
ANNIE IS A TRANSIE
It seems that the original cartoon character for Little Orphan Annie was called Little Orphan Otto and had a bald head. The editor of the first newspaper to buy the strip insisted that Otto be changed to a girl. Too bad, we could have had such wonderful songs as: My hair will grow in, tomorrow …
CHRISTOPHER & THE SAILOR
Christopher Atkins, who provided the beautiful naked body swimming underwater in The Blue Lagoon, told the New York Times that he was saving his money to buy a sail boat and sail around the world in 1984 with "my best friend," Dr. Dave Grundy, who operated on Christopher's knees after a football accident. Says Chris, "He's a hot sailor." Now calm down, guys. He hasn't said he's looking for a crew.
DEAD MEN PLAY HAMLET
Andre Tchaikowsky, a Polish pianist, always wanted to be an actor (but in Poland if they tell you to play the piano, if you know what's good for you, you'll play) with the Royal Sha-kespeare Company. Since Shakes- peare never wrote any parts for Poles, Andre did the next best thing; he left his skull to be used as that of the character Yorick in Hamlet ("Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well"). Mr. Tchaikowsky will be listed in the official program, but will not attend the cast party on opening night.
EVEN GREAT COOKS EAT DADDIES
Craig Claiborne, very well-known cookbook author and gastronomic chronicler, recently came out in his memoirs, A Feast Made for Laughter. Mixing food stories (the first time he cooked he put a whole chicken in the oven, paper-wrapped giblets and all), travel anecdotes (it was aboard the Ile de France on his first trip to Paris that he decided to become one of the great chefs of America), and intimate details about his boyhood in the rural South, Claiborne displayed his piece de resistance when he casually told his readers that he had a sexual love affair with his father. "I'm not ashamed about what happened between us," Craig revealed. Claiborne , it should be noted, is responsible for the social standing of 90% of all New York Jewish princesses.
BURNING IDOLS
It seems a 47-year-old man in Los Angeles began setting fire to various churches because they were worshipping idols. When he was finally caught, he had torched a total of 11 churches of various persuasions. He pleaded not guilty, saying the fires were set for "religious reasons," saying that the churches were all worshipping idols instead of the true god. Sort of like the Christians throwing the Christians to the lions.
O HOLY COCK
Back on the religious beat … a church has started in San Francisco claiming 2 million followers worldwide that worship the phallus. Gatherings consist of group suck services and / or group jack off services. According to Rev. Donald Jackson, the church pre-dates christian religious sects, and is descended from the Nymphs of Saint Priapus. The Saint Priapus Church in San Francisco holds two or three services a week so that members can celebrate their genitals , from where all life flows, according to Jackson. There are also a number of special services for various sexual needs.
FOLSOM FOLSOM FOLSO
LEATHER BULLETIN BOARD
I keep telling you guys, get your stuff in to me 90 days before your event. In my last column I mentioned the First Ladies United event here in San Francisco , but I received notification just before the last issue was ready to go to press. The event came off, as I knew it would, before the magazine hit the stands.
Saint Louis, Missouri
Just got a letter from Jim St. John, President of the Gateway M.C. Now here's a man after my own heart. Jim heads up the oldest and largest motorcycle club in St. Louis. In describing the club, Jim placed in brackets the words "of our persuasion." Hey, brother, is there any other persuasion? Now, to the nitty gritty of his letter. SHOW ME NINE is their big Ninth Anniversary bash which will take place in the Gateway City on November 5, 6, & 7. You can get applications for the run through the Gateway M.C., Box 14055, St. Louis, MO 63178 or, if you are in St. Louis, drop in at their home bar. The Gateway Saloon in Mar- tin's Complex at 201 S. 20th Street, St. Louis. It's going to be a long cold winter, men, so you can't find a better place to do your thing and get whatever warmed up but good.
The New York trip with Luke Daniel, Mr. Drummer and Mr. International Leather, is off. There just weren't enough leather men interested.
How would you guys feel about a trip to Oktoberfest 1983 in Munich, Ger-many , with Mr. Drummer 1983? It just might be in the offing if enough guys are interested in it. Drop me a line and let me know what you think of the idea. Meanwhile save your bucks and your vacation time. Sure, it's a long way off, but it will take a lot of planning and it could be one of the big events in a leather man's life. Whew, all those hot German bodies!
Let me give some scam you read about in Issue 57 in the Tough Shit column. I didn't read it until after it came off the presses, so I didn't know about it. Talon's heavy duty zipper and the #5 zipper are no longer being made. When you buy leather jackets or chaps, you should find out more about the zippers that are used in the product. Texite bought out Talon and they quit making the metal for plastic zippers. The Serval zipper needs a lot of repair since it doesn't hold up very well after a lot of use. The nylon zipper, I understand, has the same chemical formula that they use in nylon bushings and only excessive heat will screw it up. No one, but no one, can generate enough action in a scene to melt it. The East German leather jacket is being made in Korea and they use black nylon. I spoke to the Leathermaker in Los Angeles this morn- ing and he says that the YKK, a Japanese firm, makes a suitable separating zipper. Nylon and plastic are in our futures unless we really raise hell, so some manufacturer sees the bucks in giving us what we want. It's up to you. Treat your jackets and chaps like old friends, because you may find yourselves recycling your zippers when you go out to buy replacements.
Mr. Marcus, San Francisco's inimitable raconteur of the leather scene, will judge the Mr. Russian River contest at The Woods during the weekend of Sept. 25-26.
Any of you ranchers or farmers who might be looking for a slave, take a look at the picture on this page. This may be the first and only time that I will show this sort of prime meat in this column. This piece of meat is 39 and has a degree in economics, is accustomed to heavy work and could prove valuable to a Master who is looking for a slave with brains as well as the headspace to serve a man. A former Navy vet, William stands 6'2", weighin at 185. This is a serious offer, according to William so, if you are interested in adding to your stock, refer your letters to me and I will pass them on to him. Again, let me emphasize, this column is not essentially to be used to get people together, but I was so struck with this asshole's potential that I thought I should pass it on.
Finally, remember I need to know 90 days ahead of time about any events in order to get it into the publication.
Frank Hatfield
WAYNESART SCULPTURE WS AV
Although Britain does have some first class newspapers, it also has its fair share of gutter press (and unfortunately they're the ones that sell the most copies). The Daily Mirror- which used to be a good newspaper before it started to emulate the cheap tits and bums of its two major rivals— has discovered poppers. In a shock horror expose, spread over two full pages, the mass British public were treated over breakfast to gory tales of gay deaths by inhalation of amyl. This caused a mini flutter of panic on the gay scene with Gay News refusing an ad from Great Lakes just for one issue, til the dust settled. It amazes me that with the world situation being as it is— the crisis in Lebanon, the terrorist bombings in London-that a national newspaper should promote drivel like this. As Lord Beaverbrook said: "A nation gets the newspapers it deserves."
A gay sports day— the second such event in this country— was held south of the Thames a few weeks back. An Earls Court bar, Harpoon Louies, challenged the Royal Vauxhall Tavern pub and the event was held behind the latter establishment in a small public park. The weather was incredibly kind, with temperatures soaring into the eighties. And it attracted a crowd of some 1000 guys. Harpoon Louies arrived in a double-decker bus laden with champagne and sandwiches, paid for by the bar's owner Cliff Bell. The afternoon was an incredible success. And a collection was taken in the crowd for Gay Switchboard . The afternon finished off with a record quiz back in the Vauxhall. Unfortunately most people were too drunk by that time to really give a fuck what happened ! An all-London event is being planned soon.
MSC London, the city's social leather club, held a garden party recently to raise money for the club. Held in a member's garden, the event attracted about 150. A barbecue had been arranged and the afternoon progressed with auctions, side stalls and 'games.' It also gave an opportunity to MSC members to get their own back on me for some of the dreadful things I've said about them in the past. I volunteered to go in the stocks and people paid real money just to throw things at me. As the evening wore on, the London ball-weight championships were held. The winning guy, a hunky sailor, managed 28 pounds hanging from his balls. He'd have taken more but the harness slipped. This was followed by a slave auction. One of the guys bought was the hottest lump of meat I've seen for a long time. But I couldn't afford him. He had a DRUMMER 84 huge eagle tattooed on his chest, short dark hair and the most muscular body. And I still don't know who the fuck he was. But I'm determined to find out.
Time Out, London's version of Village Voice, recently did a survey of music played in discos throughout town. Quite a surprise. Subway, London's raunchiest club, got the number one spot. Their music is mixed— the usual disco stuff plus (and this is how they won) a fair sprinkling of hot funk, hard reggae and modern dance. Speaking of Subway, they are now in the process of holding their annual Mr. Subway competition . Tom McCormick, the club's manager, tells me he's having a slight problem getting the guys to bare their all. Such modesty. Especially when the capital's commercial scene has come up with such a glittering array of gay prizes. If things go well, though, I hope to be able to get a photo report together for the next issue. Then you can see just what you're missing. London's River Thames has always split the capital down the middle. The architecture is different, the people are different and consequently gay life has been very different. The north of the river has always traditionally had the gay action. What bars there were in the south concentrated almost exclusively in drag entertainment. But in the last few months there's been a blooming of north-London type pubs. The best of the bunch seems to be The Two Brewers in Clapham. To start with it's licensed until midnight— very unusual for this country. Secondly, it's only a few min-utes' walk away from Clapham Common , a notorious gay cruising area. And more to the point, only five minutes' walk from where I live! The only reservations I have about the new drinking place is that they've called the gay secion Quintins Room. It seems an inappropriate name for the style of bar it is.
With the weather being what it is, the King William IV bar in Hampstead Village has been enjoying the custom of all the tanned guys who head for Hamp-stead Heath at this time of year. Hamp-stead Heath is another infamous gay cruising ground. The bar has just changed hands and has a new manager. Unfortunately last year the previous headman banned a well-known leather guy merely for wearing a little too many chains. The new man has no such policy and extends a warm welcome to everyone . If you're visiting London, check out the bar and the Heath.
A new One-day-a-week club has got off to a great start over the last month. Clubs over here have tended towards the US ideal lately and have gone for a specific gay crowd. You've got the ones for leather, the ones for frills, the ones for chickens and the ones for accountants . The Lift, however, in Soho combines the lot. Women, blacks, leather, the biggest cross-section of people you could imagine. And to everyone's surprise , it works. And provides a totally different atmosphere to anywhere else in London, or for that matter anywhere I've been in the world. I only hope they decide to extend it and open a few more nights a week. An absolute must if you're over here.
Bryan Derbyshire
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