Steve decided he wanted to be a big topman in our next session at the Com-time on his knees as a bottom. But this go-round he wanted to show us his stuff. So it was agreed. First he had to get out and round up some slaves to train and if he was to have any to work over, he had to find them himself. He eventually brought in somebody else's slave on loan, with his Master's collar and lock still firmly attached to his neck. And somewhere or another he had found a young sailor who felt he might be a better man for having learned to take orders. The Man was there on the scene also to make sure that everything went well and to supervise Steve's debut as a top.

To get Steve fired up The Man made him strip in front of the slaves, then get down to lick his boots. He made all three of the fellows line up against the wall, standing on the balls of their bare feet, spreadeagle while he sent out for beer

and we discussed the project. After the three sets of legs were trembling from the tip-toe routine, The Man made them all get down on the cold concrete floor and spread their cheeks. "A bottom has to show his ass at any time, as well as be reminded that it doesn't belong to him.'

I looked at the three tight young asses spread open for our inspection and agreed with him. Nobody moved, including our would-be new topman. I could tell it was a real test for him to be humiliated in front of the two slaves he would soon be allowed to work over.

Finally The Man let Steve get up and put on his new Master's harness, cap and boots while the other two knelt with their asses spread. The Man told them they had a new trainer and they sure the fuck had better do as they were told. He turned to Steve and said, "Go ahead." Surprisingly, Steve told the sailor to put his uniform back on. The other slave he made stand against the wall as sort of a backdrop. It was a good move and the stripping of the young guy was a turn-on. Steve pulled the top of the guy's uniform off, then ripped his teeshirt to shreds. He

picked him up and slammed him against the wall. "Whose boy are you, asshole?" he hissed.

"Yours, Sir."

"What you gonna do about it, boy?"

"Anything you say, Sir."

"You bet your ass you are," and with that put the guy down on the concrete. Steve made him crawl around in the dirt on his belly, dragging his big balls across the cement. Our representative from the Navy then was made to kiss the other slave's ass, lick Steve's balls, his boots and his legs-but not his cock. Steve had learned well.

Finally the other slave was allowed to turn around and nobody could have been more surprised than he was when Steve picked him up and ripped off the teeshirt he had been allowed to put on. Next came his jock. He was buck naked in front of us again except for his big collar. His Master had locked that on and nobody was to take it off. His Master had told us we could do anything we wanted to him and then told him that he sure as hell had better do as he was told. I don't know how frightened he was of us, but he was cer-

tainly scared of not pleasing his Master. We didn't even know his name, not that that was at all important. He was simply referred to as "Number Two." The sailor was "Number One."

Number Two did an expert job of bootlicking for Steve, both the tops and the soles. Now he had become a topman, Steve was handed a can of beer to join us, and after downing most of it in a couple of swigs, he poured the rest on Number Two. Number One would get the rest of it later, both externally and internally. Steve was doing all right and I was happy to see it.

As most of you know, there is no working plumbing at the Compound. I can't tell you how convenient it is to have a couple of slaves handy as portable piss-pots . Number Two was used to being used, even begged for it, but Number One had to be held down firm at first. Finally after Steve's surprisingly expert leather massage across his backside with a belt, he understood and there was no more reluctance on his part. Steve had

very little conversation with him on the subject.

Most of the one-way dialog was simply Steve's calling the fellows what they were: "asshole," "shithead," "cock-sucker," "dog," and "prickhead." They knew beyond a doubt who he was talking to and they responded. Being called by their numbers seemed to be almost formal after the other names they were referred to by our expert, if foulmouthed , drillmaster.

Steve worked over Number One's tits, even lifting him up by them. He put clamps on each of them; and when he went to work on the other slave, I watched Number One squirming over in a corner, not daring to touch his chest, let alone the alligator-jawed clips that were biting into his hard, round nipples. He would welcome any other abuse just to get his mind off his nipples.

"What are you going to do with these two assholes when you get them shaped up?" asked The Man.

"Offer them to my friends," Steve said,

BLACK MASK

Photos by Bill Viggiano

The black mask offers unrestrained freedom. From behind it a man can change into a monster, a master, a slave, an angel. The black mask allows the meekest soul to express the most hidden desires, to flaunt obscene passions before crowds that would otherwise intimidate him. The black mask allows the heavy metal master to beg and crawl and offer his bare ass to every hand, whip, or whim of other undisclosed entities. The black mask offers security for the famous and the infamous; it renders the wearer capable of exploding myths, creating legends, acting out fantasies and games and roles otherwise alien or denied him in his everyday existence. The black mask offers unrestrained, absolute freedom.

Each year, in New York, GMSA stages the Black Mask Ball. This year it was held at the Mineshaft, an institution always looking for a new fix. The general public was allowed to attend; the GMSA members (and the public) participated in ritualized and real SM acts and explorations under the sanction of the black masks each wore. Every half-hour some new tableau from the pages of de Sade and Kraff-Ebbing and Drummer, from the furthest reaches of the most fertile imaginations was spotlighted and executed with skill, with passion, with expertise: from mummification to ball-beating, from hot wax dripping on bound torsos to testicles stretched beyond believable limits . The handiwork staggered the mind: foreskins clamped to other foreskins, foreskins nailed to the wall, bound bodies hanging from the rafters upside-down, asses flush from rapid, steady paddlings.

And some men, even under the blessing of the black mask, stayed firmly planted, backs to the wall, taking it all in but only participating visually. At the Black Mask Ball you have the choice: stand back and watch, or take it to the limit. П

Carlo

THREE HAIKUS

Speaking on the phone I was stroking my hard dick. Was he there also?

Not asking his name, I sucked him off in the toilet. None in the bar saw.

I am a black fig Ripe, ready to endulge you! Let your lover wait.

AHS

NIGHT COURT BY RICHARD SAISER

The bar clock showed midnight as I picked up my motorcycle helmet and walked out the door. I straddled my Yamaha and put on the helmet, wondering just what the fuck I had expected to find in a bar on a Tuesday night, anyway.

Shit, it's a full moon, too, I thought, which usually means all sorts of heavy numbers and hot scenes. I should have stayed home and had an early do-it-myself party. Fortunately, it's not too late to do just that.

I started the bike and rolled out onto the street. Just being on my big Yamaha V-twin made me feel better, because rumbling here between my legs was a 920cc lover, who was always ready no matter how many times I struck out in the bar. I think I could spend eternity rushing along on a throbbing, black motorcycle, with the wind caressing and making love to my body. That night, like many other after-bar rides, I just let the powerful machine seek its own course in the general direction of home while I lost myself in one of my jackoff fantasies. I didn't consciously notice I was passing through the warehouse district near the old train-yards . It's an area of little enough activity by day and one truly deserted by night. There were no cars parked on the streets, and the yellow streetlights made only faint glows at the ends of the long blocks.

I certainly didn't notice the car behind me until the red and blue lights on top of it began flashing. In my mellowed-out state, all I muttered was, "Well, goddam," as I pulled over to the curb. I wasn't particularly pissed off at getting pulled over, just curious as to why.

As I put down the kickstand and got off, I was surprised to see my watch showing one o'clock. It hadn't seemed that long since I left the bar, but now, looking around at these dark buildings and black shadows, it was beginning to seem late indeed. Then I zeroed in on the policeman walking towards me. growled in horny appraisal. I didn't know cops in patrol cars wore so much leather, or that they could be so young.

I say 'young', though actually he was probably in his late twenties, and anyway, what is age when one is in lust? My eyes took in his heavy leather jacket, his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Shit, he was one sexy hunk of raw, non-biodegradable cop! Though I thought only motorcycle cops wore skintight pants and high black boots. Hey, get a grip, I told myself, cops are strictly for jackoff dreams and definitely not for human consumption. Still I wondered what this one would do if… Cool it, citizen!

The patrolman had turned off the Christmas tree but left the headlights on. Now that he was standing in front of the latter, I couldn't make out much of his features except for the sharp outline of muscular thighs and a few details of his uniform: the bright pips on the epaulets, the badge, and the small metal nametag (which I couldn't read, of course, dammit!). He also wore a white helmet with the faceshield pushed up. The holster on his belt creaked a little as he shifted weight and spoke.

"May I see your driver's license? Take it out of the wallet, please.'

I complied with his request and remained silent, figuring to adopt a very humble posture before this dark blue symbol of authority, kind of a natural role for me, anyway. When he took my license back to radio in (for what? priors? warrants? pizza?), I sized him up as being just a tad taller than me. Maybe six feet tall. A lean hundred and fifty.

When he came back and handed me the license, he asked, "Do you have some particular business out here tonight?"

"Uh, no, Sir. Just out riding." He cocked his head at that and I muttered on, "Just on my way home, really." from that put you in this part of town," he paused, "at this time of night?' I did what anyone else would have done, I lied. "Well, Sir, actually I couldn't sleep, so I decided to go for a ride on my bike. You know how it is. I didn't really pay any attention to where I was going." Boy, is that ever true! "I don't normally ride in this part of town, Sir."

Enough 'Sirs' and maybe I could get off with just a warning for whatever reason he'd stopped me. Which reminded me.

'Oh, Sir, why did you stop me? I wasn't doing anything wrong, was I, Sir?" God, that sounded like I should have been down on my knees in one of my fantasies. Let's not get carried away, I thought, this is for real.

From the way he stood there staring at me, I had the uneasy feeling he was seeing me down on my knees, too! It seemed like a good time to get a little nervous. This guy sure was observing me closely. I began to wish I'd worn more underwear. His nightstick wasn't in his belt anymore, but hanging from his left wrist

"Well," he said at last, "you were driving rather fast for a thirty-five zone. I'd say you were doing a lot more."

What did he mean, "…doing a lot more?" Either he knew for sure, or he didn't. He seemed to be deliberately trying to provoke a reaction, but what kind? And why?

'You clocked me, Sir?"

"Sure." He stared me straight in the face, but I couldn't meet those challenging eyes. Real innocent behavior, right? Then he turned his gaze on my motorcycle for a few moments before remarking, almost speculatively, "You turn corners too fast, also. And I just can't help wondering what you're really doing around here at one in the morning…" He rested the tip of his nightstick in his right hand.

'Really doing? What do you mean, 'really doing'? Hey…" My yes-sir / no-sir plan was momentarily forgotten in my defensive reaction to his nebulous and patently unfair suspicion, but it was finally dawning on me that this scene was beginning to give off some strange vibrations. So I decided to postpone my indignation and see what might happen. Perhaps I could trust my instincts to play out whatever game this leather-heavy lawman was into. So my sentence ended, "I mean, I wasn't doing anything I know of, Sir."

The nightstick suddenly swung up and touched my shoulder. It weighed about fifty pounds. The whole scene was getting scary, but at the same time excitingly weird. Part of me wanted him to just write me a ticket and leave, but another part (right between my legs) wanted to see it through, no matter what.

"You wouldn't object to a search, now would you?"

"What for? I mean, no Sir, of course not." I nodded towards the motorcycle. "Go right ahead."

The cop stepped back a pace and tilted his head slightly. "I will," he said, "but not the bike. Take off your jacket!

He bounced the tip of his nightstick in his palm as he watched me remove my leather jacket, and all the time I was thinking, this is absurd, playing cops and robbers out here on a dark street at one a.m., but damn, what a turn-on!

I quickly handed him the jacket, then he ordered me to turn around while he checked it out. I waited with my arms folded, listening to zippers and snaps being opened, and then a pause.

'I think you're in trouble." The coldness in his voice matched 🗻 the cold crawlies invading my stomach.

I turned around and saw my jacket lying on the hood of the

car. The gun was no longer in its holster. In his left hand, the patrolman held a small, brown cigarette stub. I stared at the gun. A gun for chrissake! I couldn't believe this was happening. Finally, I looked at the cigarette butt, praying for it to be just a cigarette butt. I just knew it couldn't be a roach. Where the hell had I last smoked a joint? When?

I couldn't think clearly, but I had a pretty good idea that if I'd had that jacket on whenever it was, I would have been dumb enough to put a roach in one of the pockets. The seriousness of this whole mess really hit me when I looked up at the cop's face and heard him begin, "You have the right to remain silent…

He recited the words flatly, sounding just like television dialogue . Unreal. But there they were, coming from a real cop. Now it was definitely time to be nervous and scared. I wanted out. The cop finished with my rights and said something else, but it didn't register. He repeated it.

"I said, if you have any more, you may as well hand it over now. If I take you in, they'll strip-search you and find it, anyway.'

"But there isn't any. They? What do you mean, Sir?" For the moment, I missed that little 'if' in his last sentence.

"The guys downtown, after they book you into jail."

Ohmygod. "But there really isn't anything to find, Sir." It was all I could do to keep from stammering, so I didn't try. "I di-didn't even know a-about that roach, honest! Surely, you wouldn't a-arrest me just for a roach, would you, Sir? Anything but that.'

He looked thoughtful. "Anything?" there was suggestion in the tone of his voice. "Well, if I don't arrest you… perhaps we could settle this ourselves.

I responded instantly to that faint hope. Whatever he wanted, I was ready to cooperate. I held my breath expectantly as the young officer continued.

"Yes, we could settle it … have our own trial, right now. I've got the evidence, there's really no doubt about your guilt. It's really just a matter of deciding the punishment, isn't it? So, it's your choice, a trip downtown, or hold our own little night court right here."

I licked my lips, thinking furiously. It sounded incredible. He pressed further. "Just the two of us. Would you prefer that?

The whole situation had become sexually charged. The cop slapped the side of his boot rhythmically with his nightstick as he awaited my decision. The city seemed dead, with not a sound to interrupt us.

"Would you prefer that?" He repeated softly.

I knew what he wanted: to work me over, and for me to be a 'willing' participant. Scared as I was, with heart pounding, I could see that maybe here I'd found what I'd missed in the bar earlier. If only I could go through with it.

My voice broke, "Oh jeezus."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

I said, "Yes Sir." "Good." He shook his head, then looked at the opening between the buildings a short distance from us. It was a driveway , and a few minutes later I found myself in the middle of a parking area surrounded by dark, looming warehouses. As far as I could tell, the way we'd entered was the only access. A single light over a door fifty feet away cast only a dim glow over the police car parked beside me. My cop-judge-executioner got out of the car and faced me once again.

"First, we're going to complete the search."

I shrugged my shoulders and stepped back from the motorcycle . "Go ahead, Sir."

"Wrong again. You."

"Sir?"

"I told you they would strip-search you downtown. Well, that's what we're going to do now. Take off your clothes and lay them on the pavement."

"Everything? 1…

"Strip completely. You made the choice. We do it here… or you can do it downtown."

I don't know why I hadn't anticipated this aspect of our deal,

but I should have. I did as he ordered, then when I stood naked beside my clothes, he motioned me back.

"Okay. On the ground. Face down and spread."

I complied quickly because I was getting a hard-on, which for some reason I felt vaguely embarrassed about displaying. The pavement felt cool and rough against my bare skin. I held my chin lightly to the ground, staring straight down.

He took his time about searching my clothing, if that's what he was doing. I could sense his eyes roaming over my exposed body. Finally, he came over and knelt on one knee beside my thigh. I could feel the cold, hard tip of his nightstick pressing against my asshole.

'You'd be surprised how many guys think they can hide something up their ass." The pressure increased. "It doesn't

Then, suddenly he forced the thick rod past my anal ring. My whole body flexed in surprise and pain. I pressed my palms hard against the pavement, trying to hold my spread-eagled position. He twisted the nightstick and pulled it back and forth a few times. He shoved it steadily deeper until I was forced to crawl forward by the gut-tearing pressure.

'Please, Sir!'

He let up and slowly withdrew the tortuous probe. I saw him wipe it on my shirt.

"Well, it looks like you're clean, after all." He stood up and pointed to the side of the patrol car. "Get over there."

I scrambled to the rear door he'd indicated, then he took out his handcuffs and locked me to the handle. This forced me to stand bent over. I started to lower myself to my knees, but he prodded me and ordered me to stay on my feet.

I looked at my captor as he said, "You're lucky. Just the one roach, but one or a hundred makes you just as guilty. Anything you want to say in your defense?"

"No. Sir."

"Very well. The penalty for possession will now be administered.'

I shifted my weight uneasily as I saw him take the belt out of my Levis and come over to stand beside me. He ran a gloved hand down my back slowly to my buttocks, then suddenly reached between my legs and grabbed my balls.

"Back it up!" He pulled hard until my back was stretched out flat. The steel cuffs bit hard into my wrists. "Now, hold it there." He let go and stepped back.

I knew what was coming and I clenched my teeth, but I was not really prepared for the jolting pain of the first blow square across my butt. More followed with rapid, measured timing, Wham! Wham! Unrelenting, moving up my back now, wham! On and on. I don't think I screamed, but I remember my knees buckling and a voice (my voice) croaking, "Please, Sir, please …!'

Then, two powerful leather hands grasped my hips and pulled me up and out again. No more strap. Now, a thick, hard cock pushed slowly but steadily into my asshole. His hands kept their grip and worked my butt back and forth as he probed my guts with increasingly long, driving thrusts, pounding faster and faster until he exploded with a guttural cry and collapsed on top of me. His leather jacket irritated the sensitive welts he'd laid on my back, but I just clenched my jaws harder and held on.

I couldn't support his weight and gradually pressed forward against the side of the car. In a few seconds, he backed off and pulled his cock from my battered asshole. I glimpsed its nine inches glistening in the light before he cleaned it off with my shirt and began to recompose his uniform. His half-erect penis was clearly outlined by the tight, blue trousers. My own cock was throbbingly stiff, aching for release.

I thought the punishment was complete, but he picked up the belt and once more approached me. No more, I silently pleaded, no more! But this time, instead of forcing me into the previous position for more punishment, he grabbed my straining cock with his leather gloved hand and began to firmly massage it back and forth. The belt fell once more across my tortured butt, but not so hard as before. His hand moved steadily , and he used the belt again and again, at first lightly, then harder as he could tell I was nearing orgasm. The handcuffs cut brutally into my wrists, but I didn't care as I braced against the side of the car.

Pain surged with pleasure into my groin as his hand pulled me over the threshold at last. I came in great, gushing spurts all over the door. Waves of unbearable sensation assailed my abdomen. Then I sagged against the vehicle, trying to keep the weight off my bruised wrists.

"Please, Sir." The words came out in gasps. "Please…Sir…1 can't…

The policeman's reply came in a close, gentle voice as he unlocked the handcuffs, "I know."

He steadied me on my feet for a moment, then gently pushed me towards my clothes.

"Court is adjourned. Go home, okay?"

I nodded and picked up my Levis. As I pulled them on, I listened to the sound of his patrol car fade into the distance.

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DRUMMER 28

PEDRO BY JOHN PRESTON

When I was an adolescent, sex existed in a strangely isolated manner. It never happened with anyone I knew. Not ony did I never have sex with my peers in high school, I hardly even contemplated them as possible partners. Sex happened when a stranger offered it. My only part in the foreplay was to learn to make myself available.

I grew up in rural New England. The easiest way to present myself for a potential seduction was to hitchhike. Like many other New England boys, I spent untold hours thumbing aimlessly through Massachusetts waiting for the telltale hand that would finally dare to rest on my thigh.

Eventually I discovered Park Square in Boston and learned that I could help the older men approach me if I would stand listlessly at certain corners. Eventually one of an army of travelling salesmen from Hartford or Albany or some other city would gather the courage to propostition me. I always went with him.

The encounters were never romantic. The men were most often nameless. Cocks were the only focus, except for the occasional man who paid attention to my asshole or wanted to get fucked himself. I received a great deal of physical release from these genital adventures. I suppose I must have gotten some validation for my homosexuality. Certainly the intense orgasms helped prove it was going to be a physically pleasurable part of my life. But little was done to lessen the grinding isolation of my shy teenage years.

By the time I met Pedro I was eighteen or nineteen. I had the slightest veneer of sophistication earned from a year in college. I was home for the summer and waiting for something to happen.

One of the most valuable things I had gotten from school was a fake ID. It opened up the world of gay bars. On my first weekend home I crossed over to Rhode Island and walked the streets of Providence until I found one. It was going to be many years before loud and glittering discos flaunted themselves. Gay bars then were on back alleys with plain unmarked doors or camouflaged in some other manner. The only way to locate one was to wander the downtown of a city and try to find some 'obvious homosexuals.' Then you had to shadow them until they piloted you to one of the secret places. That was what I did that night. A chattering pair of queens forged the path for me.

I had barely begun my first beer when Pedro introduced himself. He was quickly friendly. He had an arm around my shoulders within five minutes and had kissed my lips inside ten.

His aggressiveness would have excited me in any event. It was only enhanced by his appearance. He was not handsome in any of the usual ways. But he was roughly masculine. He was a big man, easily over six foot. He was Portuguese and had the thick black hair and heavy beard that are so lavish on those particular men.

The arm that hung on my shoulder was bulky with both muscled and unmuscled flesh. There was a beginning of a paunch in the belly that pressed against me; but it was firm, not flabby. He told me he was a truck driver.

I don't remember any conversation where it was actually decided that we would have sex. I would like to think it had been mutually assumed. But I must admit it was more likely that Pedro simply told me it was going to happen and that I acquiesced.

That was the first time I ever slept in another man's bed. The only other times I had sex between real sheets had been in hotel rooms. It was also the first time someone kissed me while he fucked me.

These things would have been important by themselves. Something else struck me as even more noteworthy. Pedro's cock was big. But it oozed so much pre-come that the glans lubricated itself so heavily that he could fuck me without any grease, and it was still painless after the initial entry. When he was buried inside me and my body was reacting with its spontaneous intensity, I was able to come without even touching myself.

I could later realize that one fuck erased any lingering doubts about my sexuality. For whatever reason I had clung to the need for an artificial aid for sex as the proof that it was somehow wrong. Pedro took that away from me and I never got it back.

Pedro assumed many things after that. I never questioned him. We became a couple. Our shared life was never clouded by hiding. Pedro was in his 30s; and though I never asked him much about his history, he must have made a lot of decisions that I, never having an opportunity to challenge his actions, never had to make alone.

I was gay. I had a man who had me. We were in love. Love was natural. We spent time together. We had sex. We never denied it-though we were never actually asked.

We were a couple always. Even my family had to know about it. They must have been aware of my sexuality before, but it had never been discussed. Now, because of Pedro they would never have the luxury of worrying about it. It was simply there.

Pedro would come by whenever he felt like it. There was never a warning phone call. It was only a 40 mile drive to my house from Providence, and he'd often show up after work and announce he was taking me to dinner. My parents couldn't match him when he was arguing away their objections with his smile. He'd sometimes come later in the evening with a bottle of whisky. He and my father would drink at the dining room table. If he thought my mother was becoming worried, he'd bring her flowers.

Everyone knew that whenever Pedro knocked on the door, he would eventually take me with him and not return me till the next morning. We never talked about that. It was simply one of Pedro's assumptions and my parents' passivity in the face of the robust Portuguese's insistence matched against mine.

They also loved him. He forced them to make a leap they had never even contemplated. They had never thought of me in the context of having a male / male relationship, I'm sure. Now they were talking about Pedro to their friends. While they could never articulate the nature of who he was to me, they could somehow express real pleasure in Pedro and tell people how lucky I was to 'have' him.

I could sense these things in my parents. I still wonder what the neighbors and relatives thought about the appearance of this man in my life. He certainly couldn't have made any sense to them. I was a tall skinny Yankee boy, a loner who shunned being one of the regular guys. I had spent all my years hiding behind books and ideas.

Now, standing awfully close beside me, was a truck driver from Providence, who not only was at least ten years older than I, but obviously had never gotten beyond high school. Pedro would drink with them. He spoke the same working class dialect , even perhaps one a little rougher and a little more punctuated with 'fuck.' He knew the names of every player on the Red Sox, the Bruins and the Celtics. No one could match his mechanical ability when it came to cars.

He broke their image of a regular guy in only one way: he would never talk about women. Beyond that he presented only one mystery: at the end of the day he left with a teen-age boy in tow.

Little changed when we were alone, except for the addition of sex. He took it whenever he chose. I never denied him. I wouldn't have known how.

DRUMMER 29

After he'd have a few drinks with my father and we'd be driving back to Rhode Island, his lust would sometimes overtake him. He'd pull over to the side of the road. He'd unzip his fly and bring out his already-erect cock. "Suck it."

He'd talk about his cock while I had it in my mouth. He'd tell me how it felt. He'd instruct me to increase or decrease the speed of my motions or else to move my tongue against the head in some certain way.

Every once in a while he'd grab hold of my hair and with a painful jerk he'd drag me up away form his crotch. "You really like it, don't you?" He'd not let go until I said yes. Then he'd guide my willing mouth back down over the shining shaft.

I don't think I ever slept in Pedro's bed without getting fucked at least once. Often, most often, it happened two, three, even four times in a night. I was never asked. He would simply manipulate my body into whatever position he wanted and his cock would enter me.

Wherever we went Pedro took care of me. He bought the drinks, carried the conversation, focused people's attention to me. He constantly worried if I was comfortable; he always searched for new ways to make himself the source of my pleasure.

It wasn't until we had been seeing one another many weeks that I found out the extent of Pedro's passion. We were at a party in Pawtucket. It was early evening. About 25 men were on the patio of someone's house drinking and talking. One man was particularly interested in me. He found occasions to pat my ass and to touch me in other places. I was unused to attention of this kind by strangers and enjoyed it. I didn't stop to think about Pedro. Then the man kissed me.

What followed happened quickly. People were yelling before I had understood it all. Pedro was standing beside me. His arm lashed out and the stranger collapsed on the floor. His nose was grotesquely broken. Blood gushed from his face.

Pedro stood with his fists and jaw clenched in anger. His chest was quivering with his need to control himself. The only sound in the group, once the screams had stopped, were the coughing sounds of the man sprawled on the flagstones in front of us.

Pedro finally grabbed my arm and led me from the party. We didn't speak a word as he drove through the run down Rhode Island tenement cities. When we got back to Providence, he aimed for his house. When he parked, we locked the car and walked inside.

Pedro had a favorite chair. It was in a corner in his small living room. He went to it and sat down. He lit a cigarette. Only after he took the first drag did he talk to me. "Take off your clothes."

I stood in the middle of the room and stripped. I was surprised that I wasn't frightened of him. I concentrated instead on the sensation of disrobing in front of him and the excitement of having his eyes study my body as each piece of clothing was removed. By the time I was nude, my cock was stiffly erect.

Get on your hands and knees.

I did. I felt my scrotum being squeezed between my thighs. My cock's tip bounced against my belly. My eyes continued to study Pedro.

'Crawl over here."

I moved across the floor. The rug was harsh and the shuffling motions burnt my knee caps. I kept on going until my head moved into the triangle between his legs.

He was wearing cotton slacks. I could smell his strong sweat through the thin fabric. I could see the bulge of his crotch pressing hard against the seams of his zipper.

He undid the pants and reached in to pull out his erection. The glans was already glistening with his viscous discharge. He took hold of my hair and roughly speared my mouth. I choked: he only pressed down harder. My bile blended with his seminal fluid as he thrust my head up and down the length of his cock.

He slapped my face with his free hand. It stung. He did it again. A hot pain spread over the right side of my head. Again. More pain. "Fucking whore!" he shouted at me. Another slap. "Fuck-ing whore!"

Then the hand rested on my cheek where it had so recently

struck me. At first it simply pressed against my injured flesh. Then it began to caress my face. His other hand released the tight grip on my hair and started to pet me with long tender motions. I kept my nose buried in the heavy pubic bush above Pedro's cock and began to be able to control my gagging. I lost all consciousness of anything but the silky shaft that was in my mouth.

It was nearly hypnotic. It was wonderfully erotic. My cock was still hard and was still bobbing against me; I could feel a cool air

It was the sound of Pedro's chest that brought me back to him. I had never heard that exact noise before. I thought at first that he was about to come. Then I realized he was crying. Little bits of sentences came through the quiet sobs. "Baby, I don't want …hurt you…sorry, baby…I don't…" His hands were both working, one still on my cheek, the other on the top of my head, still caressing and petting me.

His pelvis began almost indefinite thrusts. And soon he came, sending waves of his thick stuff into me. With some of it still dribbling out the side of my mouth, Pedro gently took me away from his cock and brought my head up to meet his. He kissed me and I could taste his cock and his mouth at the same time as his tongue pried open my lips.

I came while our mouths were opened to one another.

We never talked about the incident. For a while life went back to normal. A couple weeks later, though, there was another man, this time someone in a bar, who tried to pick me up. Again Pedro attacked him viciously. Again he took me back to his house and we repeated the ritual. It was precisely the same as the first time. I had never experienced anything quite as electric in my life. Remembering the feel of the rug scraping against my knees and the exhibition I sensed I was giving as my scrotum was pressed between my thighs became two of the most important thoughts I would have while masturbating.

I only waited one week before I made it all happen again. It was entirely my responsibility this time. While Pedro wasn't looking, while we were sitting in someone's backyard, I surprised another of the guests with a sudden and unexpected kiss. He barely had time to respond when Pedro was wrestling him to the ground and banging his head on the hard turf.

I don't even remember making the other decisions consciously . They were hardly even decisions. I simply began to take more control of our sexuality. I didn't change any of it; I didn't want to. But now I would be the one to take off his clothes first. I would be the one who would see Pedro calmly watching television and I would go over and kneel between his legs. I would press my head into his crotch until he brought out his cock and let me suck it.

I no longer waited for Pedro to want to fuck me in bed. Nor would I simply let him take any position he wanted. I would climb onto his belly and sit on his cock. I would ride it, lifting my ass up and setting it down with rapid motions as I watched the sex spread across his stomach up his chest and into his mind.

I was gradually becoming more and more exhilarated with my own passion. I wouldn't wait any longer for him to pull to the side of the road while he drove. I would spread across the car seat and unzip his fly while he steered up the highway. I would bang my head against the steering wheel while the car sped along.

None of this bothered Pedro at all. He seemed to love it. He seemed to match every bit of it. There was a rough edge that smoothed. There was more caressing. There was more kissing. There was also more ownership.

He began to be even more possessive and overtly proud of me. In a bar or at a party he would insist that every man there look at my ass and admire it. If he had a couple drinks, he would even lower my pants and ignore my mock protests to show people just what it was he got in bed at night.

To my parents he became more assertive. He gave up even the slightest niceties. He'd come to the house now and simply honk the horn of his car for me to run out and go away with him.

I hardly went home at all during August. I had moved in with

him. There was my toothbrush in the bathroom and my respon-sibilities in the kitchen. The house money was in the cookie jar for me to do the shopping while he worked. He even had bought some clothes for me, underwear he had seen and admired in an ad. He thought it made my ass look more round.

If there was ever a moment when I felt ignored or worried about the approach of boredom, I simply had to find a man who didn't understand and either I would approach him or I would allow him to approach me. I could always produce the explosion in Pedro I sought. I had begun to realize that it was not something he enjoyed, he barely understood it. But it would always happen.

At the end of the month I began to say things that made it clear that I was going to return to college. Pedro was stunned. He became angry. He threatened me. Then he began to plead.

If I was such a goddamn good student, why couldn't I go to Brown? He'd pay my tuition if I went to Rhode Island State. There had to be a way to keep me from returning to that campus so many hundreds of miles away.

I refused to even consider the options. They were unreal to me. My parents, my professors, everything else in my life depended on the image of me at that school. I had to go. When he finally realized that I meant it, that he couldn't change this one thing about me, Pedro threw me out of the house. He gathered up all the clothes and all the mementos and drove me to my parents. He wouldn't talk to me, nor would he kiss me when we got there.

There was still another month before my classes began. Pedro shadowed me for the whole time. My mother and I would look out the kitchen window and see his car parked up the block. He would follow me to the supermarket, while I went to the dentist, if I walked to the post office.

Sometimes at night I would take my father's car and drive back to that bar in Providence. Whenever I did, Pedro would be standing there in a corner watching me. If any man tried to talk to me he would discover the big Portuguese tapping him on the back and asking for a word in private. I never discovered just what was said during those discussions; the other man would always leave the bar quickly.

For years after that, whenever I would walk into a leather bar, I would only stay for one beer. I would look around at the men in their uniforms and their leather and listen to their conversations . I could never go home with them. They were all trying to look like and act like Portuguese truck drivers. I had already known the real thing; I wouldn't learn how to create something different for years to come.

It's been twenty years since I first crawled across the carpet in Pedro's living room. Every time I've told the story about that summer I've gotten different reactions. Some people comment on his 'exploitation' of me, especially if I make myself sound like a victim. Others think he must have been a fool to have expected more from a teen-ager if I make myself sound like a naive young boy. Almost everyone wants to believe I was somehow an injured party.

But when I'm honest with myself in the quiet moments I know that Pedro was the first man who ever loved me.

I have spent these twenty years living in ambiguity. The world changes, so do my roles and my perceptions of others. Men come and they go; love alters its image far too often.

There was a man, though, who loved me without limitation. Whatever else I think of him, I have to admit to myself that I am the one who left. П

"Pedro" from I Once Had a Master and Other Tales of Erotic Love by John Preston, Copyright 1983 Alyson Publications, Inc. Printed with permission of the publisher.

THE BIKE BY ERIC SHARPE

Breezing along the back country roads of North Carolina that 4th of July weekend with my new motorcycle growling smoothly between my legs beneath my hard cock, I had forgotten to have it christened before leaving on my vacation. While I kept a watchful eye out for local fauna of the male, hitch-hiking variety , I reflected on the customs of the gay bike clubs in the nation's capital.

According to the customs observed by local riders, I should have approached our chaplain, a member of the largest area bike club, to ask his blessing on my bike and on myself as a rider before starting off. I should have asked him to assist me in giving the bike a proper name appropriate to its nature and our combined character as a bike and rider. I had done just that with my previous bike, a large Honda 750 with touring equipment, but I was far too eager to travel and leave my boring military duties behind me for a week or so. Then, too, it was the first time in many years that I had been stationed close enough to the folks to drop by for a short vacation, so I thought I'd please them with a visit by number one son.

With the fairing on the bike for year-round riding, I could ride bare-chested without the discomfort caused by suddenly stopping a bumble bee at sixty miles an hour or more in relative closing speed, or without the added thrill of catching a lighted cigar butt on the hairy pecs and watching the curlies char. Most of all though, there was the added intimacy if I picked up a farm boy while shirtless. He'd have to hold on to something, and I liked hands around my chest. It tended to reduce preliminaries to the bare essentials.

My most promising prospect, an Army private hitching home from a local base, somehow managed to burn himself on the exhaust pipe, so I was unable to take advantage of his delight in riding a motorcycle with an officer. It was probably that same excitement which made him clumsy enough to slip and lay his ankle against the burning pipe. I thought I could see wet come-stains in his jeans, but it was probably wishful thinking on my part. It was only a short ride until I dropped him off so his mommy could fix him up and I could continue on myself.

I remembered a lot about that first bike of mine. I named it Sisu, as befitted its size and my own sense of daring. It meant something like chutzpah, but in Finnish. My new bike I would name Loki, trickster of the gods. I wouldn't mock it with Thor or another of the Scandinavian names that fit my own ancestry because it wasn't a 'muscle' bike, just a competent 500-cc bike outfitted for touring, like its predecessor. But the first time out on it I had garnered third place trophies with Sisu, a novice rider proudly wearing my club's colors, much to the delight of my club brothers and much to the chagrin of a more experienced rider who had lost a personal wager to me.

I collected his payment with glee after besting him in the big bike events, bending him over the tail of his own bike and fucking him publicly. Had I lost, our positions would have been reversed, but we might not both have been as satisfied. I tanned his tattooed ass cheeks with my gloved hands and accused him of throwing the events just so I could plow his ass. He wouldn't admit to that, sassing me back and just begging for more spanking , which I was happy to provide. I could tell he liked our positions. He begged me to drive harder into him and jerk him off. I was worried about the stability of the bike, so I had a club brother steady the bike as we entered the home stretch.

A growing crowd stood by as I pounded the biker's ass with all my weight while I synchronized my hand action on his cock with my gloved hand. All three of us at the bike were grunting and groaning loudly as the bet loser came in my gloved hand. The feel of his pulsing meat and the hard sucking of his ass muscles brought me off as well, and I unloaded into his clenching asshole. Someone started the applause, and some well-prepared leather brother popped a bottle of champagne and sprayed all three of us, plus the bike. It was a great start to my bike-riding career, and I've always remembered that first fuck on a motorcycle. I would've liked to have done it again, maybe with that Army private, but he was gone, and nothing else turned up the rest of the way down the coast. I would just have to wait for the next good opportunity.

It was good to see the folks for the first few days, but then my welcome and my interest cooled in tandem. They were still not privy to my lifestyle, and there remained a barrier between us, raised by the ignorance on their part. It wasn't time to tell them and they would have to be educated some more before they would be ready to accept it. Then, too, my brothers and sister were all busily whelping new grandchildren for them to worry and coo over, so time would be on my side. By the time I thought things ripe, my folks would have a large flock of grandchildren and would care less about my lifestyle. I left before I really had to, before the weekend was over, and I had as my excuse the need to avoid the heavy traffic after the holiday weekend. I'd take the coast highway home instead of the interstate that was far inland, and I'd avoid the boredom of the straight roads. The prospect of the occasional hitch-hiker remained in the back of my mind, and that helped to select my route. I left, therefore, with a relatively good frame of mind and ready for adventure if it happened my way. Which it did.

I topped a rise on US17 doing a shade more than the strictly legal limit, having just started out for my own home and enjoying the morning sun on my bare chest and arms. My mind jumped into top gear and my automatic reflexes came into play as I noticed: blond, crew-cut hair on a stocky, well-built, bare-chested , hairy-chested Marine type wearing just hiking shorts, boots, and backpack. Even at a distance, I could see the cleavage between the pecs and the cuts between the muscles of his legs. Training, made indelible by the heavy gloved hands on my butt wielded by the club's riding instructor, made me hit the back brake, clutch, front brake, shift down two, and check the rear view mirror in quick sequence. I managed thereby to slow down with enough skill to leave only five feet of rubber on the pavement.

I came to a slightly less-than-graceful halt on the grassy margin of the highway about twenty feet past the marine, having a bad time keeping my footing in the wet grass that still held its morning dew. I looked back and spotted him trotting up. I wore little more than he, as I had a bib overall with no undies, my usual combat boots, and cycle gloves. We spotted each other's dog tags at the same time.

"Let me guess," was my opening line. "Camp Lejeune?" "Yes, Sir," he grinned, "I'm with the MPs there, and I'm due back by 1800." I picked him for a corporal or sergeant at best, young, and with no more than about three years' total service.

"No sweat, it's only two or three hours' ride from here." I thanked my habit of bringing the extra helmet as I handed the garish thing to him to put on. It had been my first one, to go with my first bike, and it reflected my gutsy approach to macho bike riding. It was the closest I could come to a 'Captain America' design with patriotic red, white and blue stars and stripes forever. As I had matured in the leather / Levi scene, I had given it up for a more subdued helmet.

We stowed all of his gear in the two saddle bags that were a major part of the cycle's touring outfit. The marine took some

"Riding gear, Sir?" he asked naively.

"Oh, yeah, that and some other things, just in case." One of the 'other things' was a set of wrist fetters from the U.K., surplus police issue, and their appearance was unlike that of the usual local police issue but their purpose would be clear even to the most casual of observers. Het him stew with his own imagination about what my strange gear could be used for as we started off and rode down the highway.

"I'm on my way back to Quantico, myself," I informed the marine as we rode. "I teach there at one of the intermediate schools." It wasn't too hard to talk with the wind noise reduced by the fairing. I noticed that he shifted around a lot and seemed uneasy. "Hang onto me, if you'd like," I told him. "It's more comfortable than forcing your fingers under the luggage bars and it's easier to ride if we can both lean together.

His hands felt my bare sides lightly, and then he gained confidence and slid his hands forward until they met and clasped over my stomach. I noticed he had them under the overalls instead of outside the clothing.

"You're an officer then, aren't you, Sir?"

"Yes," I replied, "I'm a captain." He had probably noticed the big blue sticker on the front left fork of the bike that announced my rank to gate guards. "I'm just a corporal, Sir, with the military police section." I felt his hands grab a little tighter as I pushed the bike into some sharp curves and we heeled over naturally in following the curves. He hunched up closer as we snaked along the rural road.

We had to stop infrequently for the single traffic lights that marked the centers of the small towns in this part of the Tarheel State. After miles of tobacco farms and unpainted farmers' shacks, we'd come to a lone store-gas station combination that often as not also held the local post office. The traffic lights were usually there too. Stopped, we felt the hot sun beat down on our naked bodies and we sweated right through our clothes. I pulled off the road after one light had stopped us long enough to get the sweat running, and I dragged my hanky out of my pocket. I dried off my shoulders and neck with the black cloth and then handed it to my passenger.

"Get my back for me," I told him. He took the handkerchief and wiped the sweat off my back, reaching far down into the overalls to the crack in my ass, maybe surprised to find no shorts.

"Do yourself, too."

After we had gotten back on the road, I felt his hands wander around my stomach with a little less caution. He felt the pubic hair, which began with no division between it and the heavy hair on my stomach. I took my left hand off the handlebar grip long enough to rub his thigh in encouragement. In return, his left hand explored carefully below the start of the pubic area, reaching my hardening cock, finally after some hesitation. I debated with myself about the wisdom of stopping nearby since there appeared to be far too many small farms and houses around for the seclusion I liked when I played alfresco.

I suggested quickly that we should stop for a quick lunch in the next town if anything was open. The marine accepted; he was probably as hungry as I was by this time but there was some hesitation and I got the impression he might want my cock for lunch.

"I help some of my friends out, Sir," I was informed as the marine felt my cock for the last time as we spotted as fast-food chain that was indeed open. I wondered just how far his 'help' extended. Some marines I knew went as far as tame circle-jerks and that was it. Touching another male body in other than training combat or in wrestling or in football was strictly taboo. Of course, I recalled, I also knew some marines who liked to have the living shit kicked out of them by other marines or by construction workers, and then they enjoyed taking it up the ass as hard and as often as the shit kicker could deliver. 'Manly' activity was okay, but lovey-dovey was out. Maybe some time after lunch, there'd be the right opportunity to find out in just what category this marine placed himself.

During lunch, the corporal pumped me for some of my Viet-Nam experiences, so I told him the usual war stories, trying to get him to feel some of the everyday terror that we had endured there. I made him feel the constant worry about losing your friends and lovers, or maybe just your family jewels to the blast of a concealed land-mine. I explained how the guys in the choppers would sit on their helmets rather than wear them on their heads when they flew over combat zones. If a shell hit from below, they'd save the parts that really counted. That set him off laughing and made me remember my own marine lover.

My gunnery sergeant, who publicly spoke to and of me in the third person, saved my life at the cost of his own. "The Lieutenant might like this…", "…if the Lieutenant wishes…" the mannerisms came to mind as did that fateful day he threw me bodily into a foxhole and then shielded me from a mortar explosion. Just moments before I had been wrapped in his furry embrace as he pummeled my asshole with his horse-cock. We both climaxed as the first ranging shots had fallen in the compound , so we were too late to find better shelter.

Would this Marine corporal mature into the type of man my lover had been? I watched him finish that last piece of burger and fries. He'd have to grow a lot and gain experience on his way to become a gunnery sergeant like my lover.

We cleaned up our table and set off once more toward Camp Lejeune. I noticed the houses become fewer and the farms longer in between. The explanation came with the sign that named the national forest and wildlife refuge that bordered the Marine base. This part of the state was mostly scrub pine forest and not much use to anyone else; so, of course, this is where the

Corps placed their training base.

We noticed the first signs posted on the trees bordering the country road. They announced that the land behind was OFF LIMITS, restricting access and otherwise kept private from the casual public. This might be more my type of playground. There were widely-spaced gravel roads that went straight into the pines from the main highway, with red and yellow USMC signs on the trees. The signs were uniformly uninformational, with such mottos as: TRAINING AREA C-12.

"What are these for?" I asked my MP passenger.

"They're dry-fire and other training areas, Sir," he informed me. "They're not much used, and never on holidays."

"How far are we from the main gate?"

"It's quite a ways, Sir. It's a big base. Please, Sir, could we make a pit stop soon? I don't want to burst, Sir.'

I pulled up at one of the gravel roads and rode the bike into the pines about a half-mile before stopping. We dismounted, and I pulled the cycle up onto its sturdy main-stand, partly because I didn't trust the gravel with just the side stand to support the weight. We stood side by side and pissed into the pine needles lining the scrub forest floor. Habit made me glance over at his streaming cock, and I found his eyes on my own uncut meat as I slowly skinned it back and let loose. I didn't miss the quick lip-licking he did, probably as an unconscious habit. I reached into the fly of my overalls while I kept pissing and let my balls out for air.

We finally shook the last drops off, and I started to tuck back my thickening cock, but the Marine stopped me by saying,

"Please, Sir, I'd like to pay you for the ride, Sir."

I stood there and like a fool said, "Just how, mister?" as though it weren't already quite obvious.

'Any way you order, Sir," my corporal replied, to my delight. He had assumed a position of parade rest with his hands behind his back, and his cock hanging out of the fly of his shorts. It was obviously not soft any more.

"Get down and give me thirty, marine!" I barked at him. The corporal fell forward where he stood and began doing push-ups . I wanted his adrenaline up, I wanted to put him in the proper frame of mind, and I needed a few minutes to get my toys together. He energetically continued, dunking his hard cock into the pine needles at the bottom and breathing loudly at the top. "I don't hear you counting, mister. How do I know how many you've done? Start again, and count off, scum-bag!"

"SIR, YES SIR!" the corporal shouted down at the pine needles . "ONE, SIR!" down and up. "TWO, SIR!" down and up. I

watched him out of the corner of my eye as I quickly found my fatigue pants and shirt with the insignia on them and put them on. I also found the luggage tie-downs I kept handy to strap extra luggage onto the bike and the straight-razor strop my own daddy had thrashed my bare buns with when I had deserved it. I heard the marine count the last of his thirty pushups and I watched him return to his previous position, now at attention.

"Strip, mister! I want bare skin all over in ten seconds flat! Just like lifesaving drill, dummy! You've used up three of those precious seconds already, shit-head!" I kept yelling at him while standing there in my full fatigue uniform with the double silver tracks. "Seven! Six! Five!" I counted down, but the marine had every stitch off, and neatly piled before the count ran out. I pretended I was formally inspecting troops and I walked around him while he stood in a brace.

Either he cared enough about his body to keep it in shape by himself, or someone special saw to it that he did the proper exercises. I again admired the nicely carved chest muscles, the tight stomach, and the chiseled thighs. But those buns are made by only one service. In his braced stance, the ass muscles had that scooped out look that said there was no fat here. His cock stood at attention too, I noticed, and his medium-sized ball basket was tucked up tight.

"Did I say you could get excited, Mister?" I yelled in his ear. "Assume the position, marine! Spread your legs and grab your ankles! I want to see those pretty cheeks smile for me!" His muscular buns thrust up and parted to reveal a hairless ass crack. There wasn't much hair on his ass anyway, but I fingered the asshole to make sure.

"Why do you shave your ass, scumbag?" I barked at him. "Or is all the hair worn off by the heavy traffic of stiff cocks up your chute?"

He mumbled, "It feels good, Sir."

"I didn't hear you, son. Now speak right up and tell me nice and loud if it's the shaving you like so much or if it's all those stiff cocks?" He wasn't fast enough, so I smacked his outthrust ass. with the leather razor strop, getting a yelp from down near the pine needles. He mumbled again, but I couldn't hear what he told those pine needles, so I smacked him harder and left a bright red streak on his white rump.

"I said speak up, shit-head!" I smacked the opposite ass mound for emphasis.

"SIR! COCK, SIR!" the corporal shouted to the pine needles, clearing the birds in the trees for some distance around. I sure hoped this was secluded.

That's good, scumbag, because you're going to have the opportunity to sample some hot officer's cock if you're good."1 smacked him again. "What do you say?" "SIR! THANK YOU, SIR!" he shouted, clearing away some more pine needles.

I stood him up and said, "At ease, corporal" and watched him come to the position of parade rest with his hands meeting on his ass mounds. I could see him gingerly smooth his fingers over the hot skin I had smacked.

'Bend over the bike, marine," I ordered him as I picked up the tie-down straps and helped position him just where I wanted. He was able to stand on tip-toe with his legs apart while resting his chest and stomach on the rear part of the bike seat. I took his wrists one at a time and bound them firmly to the chrome bars of the engine guard, just aft of the fork, stretching his arms forward and causing him to raise his ass some more to relieve the pressure.

I took a two-inch ball stretcher and attached it tightly around his nuts. I had to work them down for a few seconds out of their uptight position before I got enough ball sack to stretch between the stiff cock and the balls. For more control and interest I took a length of rawhide and tied a sliding knot in it and put this around the now-tight balls below the stretcher. I could yank on the rawhide noose and pull the balls any way I wanted. In case the marine wasn't sure of his exact position, I closed my fist around his shiny-tight nuts and slowly squeezed. He finally

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"Did I say you could talk, whale-shit?" I yelled at him. I stood up and looked at the tableau of motorcycle and bound marine. "You need some more training, mister!" I grabbed the razor strop and stood behind those inviting white ass cheeks once more, "Count off!"

Smack! "SIR! ONE, SIR!" Smack! "SIR! TWO, SIR!" Smack! "SIR! THREE, SIR!"

His voice broke a little on that last one, but I could see his cock still bounced stiffly between his spread legs. It drooled a little, starting a puddle under the bike's rear fender. "What do you say, marine?'

SIR! THANK YOU, SIR! PLEASE, MAY I HAVE ANOTHER,

SIR?"

This boy knew how to make friends, but I was too hot to stop now just to please him with more stropping, no matter how much he might like it. I stood next to him, placed one hand on his head and turned it toward me as I felt the hot ass cheeks with the other and slowly rolled my middle finger closer and closer to his tight brown pucker-ring.

'Look at me, marine," I said softly as his eyes met mine after they had travelled from the crotch of the fatigues upward. I watched as his eyes took in the uniform I wore, one that was so familiar to him, one that usually filled him with awe of rank. "Have you ever played with an officer before?"

"Sir, no, Sir," he replied, a little subdued now. "Are you ready to take your first one, mister?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" a little firmer now. I released his head and he again faced front, looking at the bike fork and his bound wrists attached to the chrome bars of the engine guard. I grabbed the small jar of lube from my emergency supplies bag.

I let him think about things while I gently and slowly smoothed lube around his tight brown sphincter. I watched it as it reflected his high emotional state, as it sucked in and pushed out again in anticipation of my planned breaching maneuvers. I finally used two fingers to push lube through the firm muscle ring itself and I heard his sharp intake of breath as my fingers continued to slide deeper inside. I found that magic button and firmly massaged his prostate while he began to quietly moan and squirm around my embedded fingers.

I made doubly sure he remained interested by checking out his stiff cock and smoothing my fingers over his taut balls while I continued swirling my fingers around within his ready opening.

I took my fingers out and used the lube remaining on them to coat my own stiff cock that I had pulled out of my pants with the other hand, after some difficulty. I then took another length of rawhide and made a noose for my own balls after I had pulled them down from their uptight position as I had before for the marine's. I pulled the noose tight and tied the free end to the rawhide tied around the marine's bound nuts, tucking my hard cock between his red asscheeks, feeling the heat I had raised there with my daddy's razor strop. Our fied nuts were now fied tightly together.

'What do you say, marine? Are you ready for your first offi- cer's cock?"

"SIR! YES, SIR!" he squirmed from side to side as though he could position my cock by himself. I let him try for a few moments while I savored the mental image of the fully-clothed officer positioned to fuck the totally naked corporal in the woods. I mentally put myself in his place and thought about how it would feel to him to have his ass skin moving over the cloth of the fatigue pants. I pulled back from his ass, pulling hard on our bound nuts, in order to position my cock so I could penetrate his chute. I saw him try to move back toward me as the pressure increased on our nuts. I could feel that same pressure, but I ignored it as I positioned my cock for entry.

'Come back to me, boy," I encouraged the corporal, knowing that he probably couldn't move much more. He strained until the muscles in his arms corded with the effort, but he couldn't force my cock into his ass all by himself.

I relented in my little game and finally pushed my cock slowly into his hot, tight, and now ready ass. I pleasured myself by

feeling the well-defined muscles all over nis young body, the sharp little line of the 'traps' muscles under his armpits, the rounded shoulders, and the 'girdle of Hercules' that ridged his sides just above the hipbones. They all played a rippling symphony of motion as we fit together and pulled apart again and again. His ass clenched and released as I drove in and out. In the position we were in, I could raise up slightly and angle my cock just right so it bumped over his tender prostate on its way inside. I watched his head roll now from side to side as I did just that, slowly, then with some speed and force behind my thrusts. Each time I withdrew from that sucking ass channel, I could feel the rawhide tug at our bound nuts, and I knew the Marine could feel those same tugs, just like an extra set of fingers working over our nuts as I pistoned in and out.

"Count off, marine!" ordered. I watched as the young head straightened up and pointed forward once more instead of rolling from side to side.

"ONE, SIR!" He kept his counting with remarkable presence of mind as my rigid cock rumbled across his magic button again and again. I reached under his washboard stomach to find his dripping cock. I felt its rigid thickness jump in my hand in time to my pile-driving. I jerked him off in time with my fucking and no longer minded that the corporal seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to be counting the strokes.

I pleasured myself by taking off my uniform shirt so I could enjoy the feel of the marine's ass and back on my naked stomach and chest. I undid my uniform belt and unbuttoned the rest of the waist buttons so that the pants could slide down and let me feel the marine all over as our two bodies parted and then smacked together again and again. The slight breeze cooled us a little each time I pulled out and our sweating bodies separated a little, and then we were back together again, wet skin slipping on wet skin in the hot July sun.

I could no longer hold back from filling this young marine's ass, and my strokes began to have much more added force behind them. I long-dicked that corporal's ass, pulling out to the very head of my cock, where I could feel his tight sphincter grip the rib of the mushroom head tightly, where the bound balls pulled away from both of us with a sharp ache, and then I pile-drived into that sucking asshole until the bike shook with the force of our colliding bodies. My chest slid easily over his back with the rivers of sweat we both produced.

The bike shook so hard, I thought that it would topple over and take the bound marine with it and my tethered nuts with him, but it stayed in place, right through my pounding climax as I grunted and swore and tensed and then unloaded finally in a frenzy of fucking, pounding my rod into his firm mounds, gripping his thick pulsing cock in my rock-hard fist. I felt him unload, and his ass ring clenched my cock in rhythmic contractions as his throbbing cock shot a thick stream of his cum all over the rear of my motorcycle.

Some time passed quietly in the pine forest, with the birds again singing, and some dumb frogs peeping, while we remained overcome by our mutual, ecstatic release. I slowly withdrew my cock from the hot container of the marine's ass, I undid the rawhide ball bindings on both of us, and then I released his chafed wrists from the luggage tie-down bindings.

"Damn good ride, marine!" I complimented him as he stood up. "Thank you, Sir," he answered, still a little shook up. He looked down at himself, at his sore nuts, then at the white cream dripping slowly off the bike's license plate and rear fender. "Clean it up, Sir?" He looked at me eagerly.

"No," I said, getting a sudden thought. "It'll wear that baptism you've given it until it rains."

We made ourselves once more presentable enough to be let through the main gate of the Marine base, wearing what we had been wearing before our stop in the forest, and we resumed our ride. I dropped off the corporal just inside the main gate of the base. He was one sore-assed marine MP, and it would be interesting to watch him as he walked his duty tour that night. Maybe he had some NCO that would take some interest in those pink ass mounds later, after his duty tour.

"Call me, if you ever visit DC," I told him, as I gave him a calling card. "And remember me."

'Yes, Sir, I sure will, on both counts, Sir," he replied as he saluted me before turning away. I saw the corporal on guard duty at the gate take in this exchange with some interest. It wasn't every day that he saw a shirtless officer on a motorcycle drop off a shirtless marine at the gate. Or maybe it was, I thought to myself. Today's young men might be more liberated, and they might take more advantage of it. That gate guard, for example, might have had more miles of cock run through his firm buns than I had seen in my lifetime.

After that hitch-hiker, it was a very dull ride the rest of the way back to my own duty station.

I finally did see the padre to have my bike blessed according to custom. The appropriate blessings were bestowed on the bike and myself, but the padre changed from the usual baptism rite that I had heard, and substituted a different one. I asked him why, and he explained the deviation from the normal baptism was caused by my telling him briefly of my marine's baptism of the bike 'under fire,' so to speak. If there were the chance that that baptism had been a genuine baptism, then he had to use the conditional rite instead, according to Church rubrics.

"I doubt, though, that the Church would ever consider adopting that particular form of baptism," he told me, smiling broadly at the vision.

I guess I've been covered, then, by the one baptism or the other. I've never had an accident or even a close call while riding my Loki, and I thank both that young marine and the padre for their blessings.

111,1,1,131

If you were there on Leather's big night you saw it for yourself. And we hope you were given a program along with a hard-on. So what do you need another program for, you ask? This is the updated. supplemented, added-to program with the winner(s) in all their nude glory, what happened backstage, offstage and in all the stages of getting aquainted that weekend.

Filled with exclusive photos by the army of photographers covering the big event and the parties before and after. The snakes, the cakes, the chains and the watermelon along with the stars of the show. Photos that can't appear in DRUMMER.

It was a night to remember, certainly one we'll never forget. The super extro-pages rogram will be a collectors item

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STATES OF DESIRE

A Crossword Puzzle by Joel R. Hess

DOWN

1. Tip (combining form)

2. Zola heroine

3. Small vessel for liquids

4. Where Charles sticks his prick?

5. Looks through briefly

6. Spaniards or Portuguese

7. National League (abbr.)

8. Vulva in Virgina?

9. Glaciated area

10. Gay in the Sooner State?

11. Weight measure (abbr.)

12. Swiss river

13. What we all could use a little of

14. High note

18. Soared upward

22. Precursor of phone and vision

25. Breakfast favorite

26. Often accompanies 25-Down

27. Louisville lubricant?

28. Ancient (combining form)

29. The Dingbat

32. Law partner?

36. Variety of muscle

37. Baltimore drag bar?

38. Constant musical interval

39. Metric measurements (abbr.)

40. Cereal grain

41. Freedom from anxiety

43. Town in Alaska

44. Answer of refusal

45. Achievement of one's goal (abbr.)

47. Tomorrow in Toledo

48. Help out

54. Big (Ital.)

55. Affected stance

56. Type face

57. Head in France

58. Belgian river

59. Wonderment

60. Intermigle

64. Medicinal measurement (abbr.)

65. That is (Lat.)

ACROSS

1. Popular N.Y. spot

6. Unprofaned

15. Common Sense Tom

16. Cast a negative vote

17. All befogged

19. Solidify

20. Communications company

21. Sodomize in San Francisco?

23. His (Fr.)

24. Near (Ger.)

25. Syllable of hesitation

27. Sharp

30. Mommy

31. Justification

33. Star Wars star

34. Finish

35. Combine

36. Newspaper bigwigs (abbr.)

37. Cow sound

39. San Antonio tampon?

42. Small pouch

43. Dispatched

46. Gandhi cognomen

49. Right (abbr.)

50. Nudge

51. Holy man (Abbr.)

52. Watery bodies

53, Ivy League campus?

55. Primping in Pittsburgh?

59. I love you in Italy

61. You know, in Italy

62. Supplies with air

63. Immorality in Madison

66. Pulverize by abrading

67. Detested utterly

68. Freud colleague

(solution on page 85)

Some time ago, Drummer took a survey of its readers and among the questions asked was readership interest in this column. The interest was minimal. Drummer's editor and I discussed the advisability of dropping the column, but we had to address two considerations-the interest of some readers in the column and the desire to be of help to gay men behind prison walls.

We have reached a crisis point where I believe that we should drop the column. Sure, we still get requests from cons inside to list their names, addresses and interests, but another more disturbing series of letters have been crossing my desk. The guy who gets ripped off because he had opened his heart to another man. The latest scam comes from the Mississippi State Prison at Parchman where the cons are working the old money order bit of altering money orders and the unwary man on the outside passes the money order and finds himself in a jam.

This latest deal with the great number of bilkings by other cons disturbs me. Drummer has a commitment to its readers . Sure, some of you will argue that you can handle the hustler, but can you? A lot of these guys have had a lot of practice.

I know one con who invested $500 for photographs, stationery and postage. He wrote letters that were hot or heart-wrenching or whatever the mark seemed most susceptible to. He had found a veritable mint. Ironically, he wan't gay and none of his correspondents even guessed. The victims thought they were clever, but they met their match. Sure, many of them woke up in time, but by then he had gotten a good part of their money.

We also have to consider the other side of the coin, the gay man behind prison walls. Should we penalize him because of the few exploiters who lack any sense of integrity, honor or gratitude? The response is not so easy. I know that the man behind the walls leads a dull, mind-stultifying existence and the occasional letter that he receives can brighten his situation. Gays in prisons are too often abused and brutalized by other cons and their keepers. They need the support of the gay community.

So, as you can see, the matter is not very simple. There is the obligation to our readers and a no less important obligation to a segment of our community which we too easily shrug off and want to forget.

From time to time I have shared with you letters which I have received from men who made contact with other men on the inside and have found happiness. Others have found penpals who have lessened the loneliness of each other.

Now, should this column continue? This is the crux of the matter. You are the ones who have to decide; so write me and let me know how you feel about it. Address your letters to me in care of Drummer.

-Frank Hatfield

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EVERTHING FROM THE STUDSTORE IS GUARANTEED!

I can see the light! Please send me a pair of style(s)- (Circle one or more) A B C D E F G H I J K L Enclosed find $ ______ in payment, plus $1 postage / handling.

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NATIONWIDE

MODELS

Drummer is looking for leather / uni- form men willing to model. (415) 864- 3456

STILL UNCUT?

Holding out for the right scene? Tell the Sarge all about it. Send description, photo (not necessary) and circumcision fantasy. All get replies; the chosen get clipped. Box 3433.

UTAH COWBOY

Has boots, shoes, sneakers, socks, photos of booted dudes, misc, for sale. Sell/ trade your own; Free listing. Send 60¢ in stamps for info to P.O. Box 2153, Salt Lake City, UT 84110 (1795 main).

NEW GUY ON THE BLOCK 39 year old M, successful proffesional man, just breaking into the scene, seeks contact with individuals, groups. clubs, organizations in the mainstream of the national and/ or international S / M community for an introduction into the life style. Box 3675.

HORSEMEN

HORSEMEN Leather/ uniform man boots & breeches turned on by ricing & being around horses, want to meet/ hear from same especially R.G.R. See male-call issue 63 to swap experiences, pix, j / o fantasies. Am wh. 44, 5'10" 160

LONDON 43 W / M SLAVE

Seeks meetings with UK visitors (21-50) into military scenes, B—D, S—M, W.S., shaving, piercing particularly with muscled S's. This M will grovel, obey and expect humiliation & verbal abuse Your dirty jocks worn with pride. Humiliating & abusive correspondence also begged. Ocassional visitor to U.S. Have motorcycle & leather gear. Sir, your orders awaited. Box 3696.

CROTCH BOOTS

Wesco's tallest for the real bootman. The boots worn by men with the highest sense of boot pleasure. 10 years ago few of us were booted to our balls, since then the news and need have steadily grown. Owners/ wearers of these SuperBoots are urged to send itr and pic of self in crotch boots. Prompt response with details and pic. Box 3693

PHONE SEX

Connecting gay men together around the world. A really unique experience. (415)346-8747.

HOUSEBOY/ VALET 18-25

WANTED! Son wanting to advance with help of affectionate but demanding Dad call (617)256-2968 Boston.

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.

MASOCHIST

Seeks experienced sadist in 501 levis and VN army boots with gameroom for SM, whipping, and especially ballwork.

WM 40, 6'2", cut, 6" Travels frequently to Dallas, Atlanta, Chicago, NYC, DC, SF, LA, Denver, Etc. Also, field phone work and suspension with experienced S and right equipment. No FF, scat, rim- ming, drugs, WS, piercing, catheters, prods, damage. Occasionally switch Also, Fr. Gr. movies, books, video- games, etc. Box 3743.

SERIOUS SLAVE

Seeks serious master. I'm strong enough and man enough to give up control of my mind and body to the man who will be my master. Am 36, 5°10°, 150 lbs., black hair (thinning), trim beard, brown eyes, good body, sexually intense but inexperienced. Know what I need and know I can handle it. Master is 25-45, intelligent, goodlook- ing and hot enough to mind-fuck me to my knees and use me. Photo appre- ciated. Bob Mitchell, P.O. Box 9395, Scottsdale, AZ 85252. Can travel.

ALABAMA

SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY

In Mobile, AL. We want to show you some Southern Hospitality that General Grant never saw. Two Real Men. Both 36: one blonde/ blue, beard and a hefty 8" uncut solid log sticking out from his 6'2" frame; The other 6'1" 170 LB fur ball with brown/ brown, equipped with a loaded uncut cock. We are looking for Southern Men and visitors to the south who are into being men and playing hard. We've had enough of the southern belles at the local bars. If you're fat or fem or don't qualify as a real man, don't waste our time. If you think you're man and the southern waste enough for our brand of hospitality, get your shit together and write us a letter with a hot photo (returnable) of your- self. Box 3754.

ALASKA

нот воттом

Hot bottom man into hiking, camping, backpacking. Would like to meet hot top men for frun in Alaska. I'm5'10", 172 lbs, 42, br/ br, moustache, masculine, good build, hot buns. Would like to meet men 25-45, masculine, well- not fat, well-hung, who know how to take charge of the action. Write letter with photo to: P.O. Box 423, Kenai, Alaska 99611, or call (907)283-4879

ARIZONA

PHOENIX-MASTER AND SLAVE Invite you to visit for frienship and/ or fun & games. Box 3726.

BOY 22, 5'11", 160

Smooth defined ass a real smart aleck needs over knee spanking, your photo my turms, ROBERTS 1515 E. Sunny Slope Phoenix AZ 85020.

TWO LEATHERMEN

Looking for 3-ways. We have well equipped backroom. Write P.O. Box 9484 Phoenix Ariz 85068.

ARKANSAS

LITTLE ROCK SLAVE

Get on your knees and write to this dominant Master, 6'2", 185 lbs, 8%" uncut if you are white, masculine and not overweight. My interests are shaving your crotch smooth, pouring piss down your slave throat, bondage, get- ting 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

PRIME CONTACT Veteran of two wars: NAM (S0G) and veteran of two wars: NAM (S0G) and veteran of two wars: NAM (S0G) and veteran of two wars: NAM (S0G) and veteran of two wars: NAM (S0G) and veteran of two wars: NAM (S0G) an 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.

SWEAT AND HARLEYS

Two men, both 35 yrs old, seek body- builders and Harley treaks for fun and friendship. Top is 6'5", pierced, and a buttfucker. Bottom is 5'8", tattooed,

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.

Signature

and a cocksucker. Send Photo, Phone, and honest letter to box 3598

GOODLOOKING LEATHERMAN Castro Valley. S. 36, 6', 160 lbs., good looking Leatherman seeks M, for Leather Action, obedience, outdoorbike scenes, bondage. (415) 582-1162 or reply Box 1582

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 of the ad it a telephone included in the ad cry. 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.

DOMINANT BODYBUILDER 32, 5'8", 160 lbs, 29" waist, 40" chest, sadistic but sane, into intense testicle pressure, bondage, titwork and unusual equipment. If you are a bodybuilder with a high pain threshhold and a sense of adventure, call Don, (415) 864-5566 or (707) 869-0243 from 10am to 8pm only.

SAN FRANCISCO

RUSSIAN RIVER SM. C&BT. To tie and chew on. Don't forget T / T. Versatile. Your photo gets mine. All answered. Box 3442.

EXTRA HUNG Is that you, buddy? Is your dick extra-long and / or extra-thick? If you've been told, "It's too big," and you know that it\nis a whopper, If you're fustrated by dudes who can't handle you, then you want to meet m fucking a hot ass with that meat of yours, plus any other raunchy action (except FF) write with a pic. I'm for real, man. J.M., P.O. Box 99688, San Fran- cisco, CA 94109.

SOME PEOPLE SAY

That I am a devil. I think I am an angel of my kind. Write me telling me how kinky you can get and let's get together to have fun. Later on we'll get into more serious things, of course, Hurry upl There are too many things around the cosmos for us to pick up. Me: WM, 40, 5'11", 175. You: I hope you have a good mind. Box 3441.

UNIFORMS

Dutch / German-American, 32, 6'2", 170 lbs., blue eyes, blond hair, hot. Looking for men interested in police & military uniforms esp. German, jockstraps & tall polished boots. Respond only if you are hot looking & sexy & willing to sub- mit to & worship a true Aryan-Nordic type. Picture is a must. RST, Apt. #2, 437 29th St., S.F., CA 94131.

2 6H STUDS 4 HOT 3RDS

2 9's N2 most scenes. No hvy S&M / scat. Moustache, LL, VA, B&D, TOYS R A+. S Bay area. We R hot— U better B 2! Box 3484.

W / M 40 WITH BEARD

Looking for partners in mutual action for any scene particularly interested in C / B. T / T, FF. Attitude and willingness to experiment more important than looks. Box 3106.

FACESITTERS / MASTERS German urinal-pig 31 / 61"/190 lbs, wants to make his fantasies real with a real S.F. TOP. I'm willing to spend a whole week of my life, day and night,

SIR. Also available for Private-Clubs and I'm willing to work for my Master, SIR. Please send me the date, I will come to S.F., SIR. Don't forget overseas airmail postage. Box 3461

нот воттом

6'5". 185 lbs., 51, hairy, moustache. Enjoy T / T, FF/ CBT, bondage, piercing, whips. But your trip, your way. Willing to experiment. No booze, heavy drugs. Box 3757.

SHORT HANDSOME BODYBUILDER

San Francisco native, discreet-even intelligent, experienced in S&M. Expert at balancing pleasure with pain. Safe (non-damaging) genital torture, res- traints, mechanical and electrical stimulation to deliberately stretch your limits. I don't just assume a dominant "role"— I am sadistic, dominant, and no amateur. Roger (415) 864-5566.

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.

ROPES

Hot, horny, well put-together Libran, 35, 5'8", 135 lbs., 8" cut, has a lot of rope and a lot of time to explore bondage trips with equally intense, like-minded MÉN. Tune in to some real trips with a goodlooking bottom / top. Photo brings photo. Tightropes, 795 Buena Vista West #4, San Francisco, CA 94117.

FLEXING AND SHOWING

Off your muscles in bondage while another body builder teases and sensually torments you until you come, again and again. From mild to heavy. Your limits respected. Colt types preffered. Write to P.O. Box 5401, Oakland, CA 94605.

BAY AREA: BOTTOM/ SLAVE

6', 165 lbs, WM. Looking for dominant, masculine Top/ Master. Into B / D, W / S, want to experience more. Request instructions with photo/ description. Box 3577

PATRON FRIEND SOUGHT Gay male writer looking for assistance by altruistic type. Worrying about money and writing do not mix; between you and I, the romantic notion of the struggling writer is a nice illusion but is not fun to live. If you can help, and think that you might want too, please let me know. Discretion is important. I am friendly, considerate, talented, sincere, discret. Ron, P.O. Box 22036, San Francisco , CA. 94122

HOT COCK +

I'm 32, 150#, 5'10", hirsute, muscular w / br. hair, moust. & beard, tit-ring & ataton; usually top but welcome other tops one-to-one or? Experienced in all scenes esp. VA, IT, Humiliation, FF (top) cigars, and leather. You are together glow 22 to 40, flexible and willing to expt. w / both new & old scenes for max. pleasure. No blood or IV drugs. Your photo gets mine, Barry Byford 495 Ellis #2892 SF CA 94102.

SEXUAL ABUSIVE MASTER

Wants 3rd and/ or 4th. 1 am a (G.L.) masculine Master (37). I own a Butch Sicilian son/ slave-dog (35). Though he\nis still in training. I have taken control over his mind instilling in him a great desire & need to sepue re desire & need to serve, respect, obey & worship his Master's commands, leather boots, man-crotch & man-ass. He now works at proving he has two hungry holes that are total pussy. I am looking for another master buddy who owns a boy so we may together expand on the powerful mental dominance, degradation, verbal humiliation, bondage & sexual abuse of my/ our slave pussy. Other Masters invited- other slaves submit respectful letter. Only serious replies w / photo will merit this experience. Box 3615.

LEATHER/ UNIFORM J.O.

Hot guy looking for leather/ uniform J.O. buddy. Must be into gloves and boots. Relationship desired with right guy. Call Jim (415)673-1284.

SOUTH BAY AREA White male, 27, 6', 165 needs fantasies turned into realities. I need a leather bondage Master who will take control and guide me through moderate to heavy B / D, V / A, boots, gloves, police uniforms, hoods, and light to moderate S / M. Serious training needed. If possible , send photo. Box 3711.

I'M LOOKING

For a long term relationship with a macho muscular slave into oil—sweat—kink—chains. 5'9", 175, 45. Phone (415)944-9984.

GWM, 27, 6', 165 LBS, short brown hair, slim build: respectfully requests to be: used by dominant Top(s). Into: B / D, W / S, VA, T / T, C / B, Hoods, getting fucked at both ends. Please send instructions/ description. (Vallejo / Bay Area). Box 3577

WANTED: TOTAL SLAVE By 45 year old Master. Absolutely no limits honored. Must include photo & phone. Novices considered. Must relo- cate to Marin Co., CA. Box 2042.

THREE RING CIRCUS

2 lovers seek playmate. We want a laid-back , head-together, nice-n-easy, goodtime buddy who likes to ball all night and get crisco on his hands. Send photo and phone to Box 3732

TOUGH LITTLE BLOND

Biker Stud is interviewing other blond, hairless, sweaty bottoms. If you measure-up I'll toss you to my big gorilla buddy (he's big and mean). Send photo and descriptive letter to Box 1536

WHITE SLAVE SEEKS BLACK MASTER

Or reverse: scat, water sports, spanking , total oral, verbal abuse. Funky let- ter gets reply & appointment. Box 3735.

SEX SLAVE AVAILABLE

To super hung masters cops military into huge insertion toys enemas whips gags non stop fucking. (415) 861-0349 x261

MAN-TO-MAN

You've got what I want! I've got what you need! "Even Daddies need Daddies." That's where I fit. Do you My name is Chuck, 'm 32 years old, 57 and moustache. Am considered very hand-moustache . Am considered very hand- some, with a hot body to match. You, 30-40 years old, big, strong and hot! With a mature mind, able to relate to a caring man. Relationship? Yes! If you've got the headspace to handle a man-to-man relationship, then please send a recent photo and letter today! Only, hot; sincere responses will be answered. Box 3263. See Drummer #57 page #78 for my recent photo. (415) 334- 4124.

33, WHITE MALE, 180 Seeks life as dog with leathered master owner. Into heavy B&D, punishment. Sk to be collard, caged, mind controlled, kenneled, used, tagged & kept as dog for life. Never again treated as human. Perm only. Must be able to handle animal safely & sanely. No games. "Kai" c / o 540 — 0'Farrell 306, S.F., CA 94102. (415)775-9120. Relocateable.

AFFECTIONATE SLAVE

WM wants strong caring master 35-45. Am yng 40, 57", 130 LBS, trim. Enjoy TT, leather, VA, humil and body wor- ship. Not into hvy drugs, FFA or raunch. Reply Box 3734.

BIG HOT TITS SF W / M, 36, 150, 6ft, 7½ cut, w / huge over- size nipples, into sucking off hard greazy cocks, working over hot tits and balls w / clamps, weights, videos, tapes, mirrors, letters, photos evrhanged Roy 37000 exchanged. Box 3700.

J / O-TRUE STUD ART

Hot handsome hung young dude, 29,6', 165, short dark blonde hair, moust-ache , thick 8" handrod and heavy slung sack. Into other studs who enjoy them- selves. Photo a must: 2269 Market, #333, San Francisco, CA 94114. Don't disappoint me- it will be your loss!

PHONE SEX CONNECTING GAY MEN TO GETHER AROUND THE WORLD. A REALLY UNIQUE EXPE-RIENCE . (415)346-8747.

LIKES PISS IN SAN FRANCISCO 29, 6'2" 170 LBS Bottom with smooth swimmers build, into W / S armpits, jocks. I want piss from hot masculine tops 21-35 with moustache or beard. I provide beer; you return it warm and tasty! Paul 415-863-9397.

SAN FRANCISCO BONDAGE CLUB Safe and sane group scenes. SFBC, 1800 Market St. #107 San Francisco CA 94102

BLACK WEIGHTLIFTER

29, 155 lb, muscular, medium build, primarily TOP, but versatile. Looking for well muscled white male 25-35. Most scenes considered except scat and W / S. Reply with photo or detailed description. Mike 80 Tera Vista #11

HUNKY BODYBUILDER

Into tits, pecs, and nipples. W / M, 33, with big muscular torso- 44" chest, arms, large thighs and huge 16" calves- seeks macho men with and into same for mutual workout, J / O, hot sweat and pleasurable times. Also into LL, athletic gear, jock straps and wres- tling. Travels often— in Calif. Aug. & Sept. 83. P.O. Box 8362, Chicago, IL 60680. (312)785-2352

BONDAGE AS A WAY OF LIFE Dedicated Bondage Slave requires bon- dage master who is serious about the ownership and control of all functions of slave with any and all forms of devices and apparatus. Slave is serious and willing to contribute full effort and resources to a sucessful lifestyle—have extensive collection of toys and devices. Slave 5'10" 145# 41 yrs. Box Holder. Box 14154, San Francisco, 94114

WALNUT CREEK

Experienced master w / m, 27, 180 lbs, and 6'1" looking for slaves into bondage , boots, leather and whipping. Get on your knees and send letter & photo- no photo no reply. Box 3739.

MASTER SEEKS

Slave for military training POW S&M, B&D FF WS pic & ph. no. Boxholder 51786 San Jose CA 95151.

BOXING CHAMP?

Looking for experienced boxer who would enjoy working out on my nut sacks until his arm gets tired. Big balls hang heavy and full. Box 3747.

SLAVE WANTED

Hot Goodlooking European Master 6'1, 38 YRS And His beautiful slave seek

goodlooking W. slave under 33 with nice body. Must be serious, funloving and into FF, TT, BD, WS, and beltings. Limits respected and expanded. Send application and photo (a must) to Box 2748 3748

RUBBER LOVER

Wants same for permanent relation- ship. Box 3751.

SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

MODELS Drummer is looking for leather / uniform men willing to model. (415) 864- 3456

BIG FAT PIG

Los Angeles. Pretty-faced hog— 30, 6'4", 300+ lbs.— seeks masters who know how to use a fat-assed, jellobellied 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.

HOT TOUGH HANDSOME M 6'1", 27 years, 175 lbs, 8", athletic. Needs to be trained and dominated, taught how to serve by hard experienced master. Leather, cowboy, levi, etc. Genuine only. Photo. Box 3040.

SAN DIEGO TOP

6'3"— 40— 190 into all scenes— complete game room— B / D S / M W / S FFA. Leather Hoods— wax tits— etc. 619-420-8967.

BIG FURRY "BEAR"

Burly "blue-collar" type W / M (61"-232- 33) trim beard, thinning hair; broad hairy shoulders, chest, and back; pila- ble ber belly; cut 6½", nice butt and strong legs (13E boots) seeks hot unin- hibited MEN 24-40 for sweaty tasy realizations, kinky and / or sensual good times. Stoney @ (213) 666-3206 (Silverlake)/Box 10643, Glen-dale , CA 91209.

HORNY-WHITE-HOT

Seeks studs into fucking-rimming- sucking. Dildoes-S&M. W / S, Poppers-prolonged ass hole play-versatile (top-bottom) AM, 46, 180 lbs-6' tall- beard-moustache-Give uniforms, good bottom service! Box 3520.

HOT RAUNCHY PLAYFUL

W / M, 30, 58", 130, goodlooking & trim, pierced tits, hairy chest, moustache and stubble beard, works out. Seeking hot raunchy sessions with guys 18-40 into fucking, sucking, fisting, piss, J / O, spit, armpits, Crisco, hot wax, tit-play amyl, fun drugs, toys, greasy jock- straps, wet briefs, tight faded levi 501's, ass-play, torn underwear, levi/ leather, sweat, fantasies. Prefer bottom , but top / tradeoff also. Rough scenes or playful good times. Man-toman , 3-ways or groups. Write w / photo if possible: BOX 121, 13624 SHERMAN WAY, VAN NUYS, CA 91405. Yeah! Hot fun!

YOUNG HOT WHITE MASTER 26 yrs old, 5'6", 130 lbs, Brown hair, green-gray eyes, mustache and nice body-Seeks: slaves(s) who need to be owned for life. Also will review requests from slave(s) who seek less permanent service. Forward detailed letter, w / photo to: Lord Stephen, Box 352, Garden Grove, CA 92642-0352.

PHONE SEX

Connecting gay men together around the world. A really unique experience. (415)346-8747.

ANY REAL ACTION

From dudes who know what the hell they can, and will put out and take. Really know about M / S, B / D, W / S, B / P, Toys, Hoods, Rimming, Potty seat,

Humil., and ?????. Let's match 90% for hot action. BLACKS get 1st place, HAIRY W / M, CHICANOS, come in 2nd, with PHOTO get quick reply, responsi- bility gives all one. No age or size hang up, lets do it, ads are for it. Box 3647.

'HOT VERSATILE FFA Goodlooking hand baller W / M, 26, 5'9" 160# with hot receptive ass and tal- ented fists seeks men with same for high times and hot sessions. Box 3680.

HOUSEBOY/ SLAVE WANTED By 2GWM, 52, 5'7", 140, 7" uncut; 44, 5'4", 135, 6" cut; Both Trim, Muscular, masculine. You must be Trim, cleancut, obedient and want urinal training, discipline , muscle control training. Full time, permanent, own room. Photo & letter to: Hose, Box 7305, Long Beach, CA 90807

LOS ANGELES, 35, 5'9", 155 Blond hair, blue eyes, beard. Into ass action, F.F., W.S., leather, S & M, shav- ing, toys, as top only. Slaves must be obedient, masculine, good body, great ass. Also want to hear from other Mas- ters all over for ideas 3 ways. Photo demanded with letter and phone number. Box 3669.

YOUR ADS GET RESULTS!

HOT MASTER TAKING APPLICATIONS

For slave(s). Temporary or permanent servitude considered by hot, 29 yr old, 5'9", 145 pound, blond/ blue eyed, dominant professional. Looks are important but knowing your place and staying there makes the difference. Limits considered but a slave's duty is to satisfy his master. Masculine mediteranean / latins a plus. Box 3658.

SLAVE NEEDS MASTER

Open to all his desires. Age, race unim- portant. May relocate for proper Sir. Photo Appreciated. All answered. Box 3656

S.L.O. AREA Young Asian Leatherman seeks friend- ship (more?) with full leather WM. Box

MASTER WANTED Into heavy B—D, Shaving, motorcycles, domination, outdoors; slave offers himself completly, Box 3613.

EXPERIENCED KENNEL MASTER Seeks raw human animal for training. Object: obedience loyalty development. Will consider all breeds from street mutt to pedigreed hunk. Must have strong healthy constitution, spirit and basic intelligence. Not for fantasy seekers or hopeless wrecks. If you are a man who realizes that his greatest worth is as an animal who must have firm direction tempered with warmth understanding and necessary disci- pline; then this could be your chance to finally realize your full potential. Your responsibilities will be few; chiefly, house security and companionship. Your opportunities limited only by your will. The San Diego area will be home. Keep in mind that the best animals have good intuition; so follow your instincts. Submit photo address and phone. Box 3581

SLAVE DANNY

Will submit to bondage, tortures, shaving , whipping, piercing of armpits & tits. For parties, photos, groups or one Master. (213)846-9486.

WANTED LEATHER BIKE MASTER

Into motorcycles, shaving, branding, B—D, Heavy Discipline, humiliation, tits, whips, chains, cigars, into outdoors. Master 5:8 or taller, 140 or heavier, 25 years or older, White, Photo courseld a clave of the photor of t requested, slave offers himself entirely. Box 3631.

PROFESSIONAL

BEHAVIORAL TRAINER With extensive experience as a topman offers S / M counseling, training, instruction, and experience. Mental and/ or physical. Write Box 3692.

WANTED VERY HANDSOME MASTER

By very goodlooking 33 year old, 5'11" 165 lb. athletic, nice body, defined slave. Your hot, very handsome, mus- cular, master. Between 25 to 35 years old, around 6' or taller. Hairy chested a plus. I'm somewhat in-experienced, but willing to learn. I'm ready for your plea- sure, to be stripped naked, chained, ready for S / M, B and D, whips, suspen- sion, TT, CBT, Ass torture, etc. No scat or W / S. No drugs or drunks. Am aware of current diseases, and am looking for a permanent master. Letter with photo to JIM, P.O. Box 20599, Long Beach, CA 90801. If your not real handsome, don't bother.

HOT HANDSOME HANDBALLER Climb on top and get inside of this insatiable 59", 26, 160# dark hair, moustached man with deep wide hungry hole. Seeks similar together hot trim fisting buddies for mutual plowing and stuffing each other, into good times, flexable roles expanding limits. Photo— phone Box 3716.

USED JOCKS / SHORTS / LEVIS Worn by Heavily Hung Studs plus pics. Send S.A.S.E. to: Box 5191 El Monte, CA 91734.

MASOCHIST Wants to serve Sadistic Tops in Uni- form. Boots cleaned. 213-913-3819.

BONDAGE FREAK Seeks experts. Hot, 28, hairy hung bodybuilder bottom wants hot bondage scenes, shaving trips. (213)848-2066.

HORNY DADDY

Handsome 40's slim tight hard strict. Want bottom to use. Must be willing obedient physically clean & healthy. jocks, tit-work, Lt. bondage Cuffs-Limits discussed and respected. 714- 499-1751.

I LOOKING FOR A sincere w / m 19-30. Photo appre- ciated. Paul Loner, 1869 Morton Ave. Los Angeles, CA 90026.

STAMPS AND SLAVES

Are the world's most popular collecting hobbies. As investments, few things have increased more dramatically in price in the last decade. Two Leather-men interested in both would like to hear from others worldwide. P.O. Box #20304, Long Beach, CA 90801.

YNG BLND STUD- BL EYES Hung big, trim bod, bi—sks 3-some w / male & female couple. Photo/ ph. Box 1293, Reseda, CA 91335.

HOT HAIRY HUNG 6'2", 185, 39 Bearded dude into uninhibited prolonged man action, fucking, sucking, verbal abuse, fantasy, uniforms, jocks, verbal aduse, rainasy, uniforms, jocks, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mirrors, toys, will do most anything. Send picture with descriptive letter, will answer all. Do it now! No age, size, race hangups, #549, 177-F Riverside Dr

BONDAGE BUDDY WANTED 36 5'10½ 180 lbs— love all types of bondage both ways. Call Paul (805)966- 6019. Santa Barbara from 6-10 P.M.

BODYBUILDER, 5'10", 195 LBS. Seeks other musclemen. Box 3596 L.A. CA 90028.

EX-MARINE/ COACH

6'/ 175, hairy, br / bl, mustache High School Coach looking for older (45-65) MEN, ex-coaches, jocks, military career men a plus. Dig man to man action with hairy, tatoo, cigar and pipe smoking ex-jocks who still enjoy the world of sports. Pick-up your clipboard and send this hot coach, your game plan. Your photo gets mine. COACH: 3208 Cahuenga Blvd., West #8 L.A., 90068

MODESTO MASTER

Peter S. Your leter answering ad about Desert Training Ranch had no return address. Pls write again. HEXA—D—RANCH, P.O. BOX 6269 TORRANCE, CA 90504

WANTED:

Healthy male slave, any race, 21-35, must be willingly disposed to totally serve, in any and all means, without reason or question. This property will be personally owned by a Master demanding His slave's whole mind and body in a fully subservient existence, dedicated to its Master and His life style. Send appropraite application humbly to: Master Conrad 1101 E. Carson, Long Beach, CA, 90807, included complete mailing address and tele- phone number. BE READY TO RELO- CATE IMMEDIATELY if acceptable.

LEATHER DISCIPLINE

Hot, hindsm w / m 40 6'1" 190# Sadistic, Experienced and widely respected seeks unfullfilled muscular maso- chists. OBJECT: Enlarging the S&M spectrum buy satisfyine mutual needs. Rawhide and steele will restrain your power while whips, wax and weights stimulate your endurance. If you're ready to work up a sweat on your naked flesh and strain your muscles to reach new horizons, contact Frank Albright, Box 84085, San Diego, CA., 92138 or call 619-260-8196 (after 11 pm).

PIERCED, TATTOOED LA TOP Bearded, 6; 155%, w / m, mid-40's, look-\ning for L / L, boot-likelin, piss-drinkin, grease/ oil-lovin, bondage slave to shave. Must be willing to expand limits on piercings, lattoos, C / B / 17T. W / S, shav

DEAR SON

I'm 43 yr. 6 ft. 9 in., stud. Stop by for a visit at 21003 Amie Ave. #5 Eve. Torrance Calif 90503.

WANTED MASCHIO SCHIAVO ITALIANO

Dominant B / M Honcho, 39, wants his sexy boots, soxs, feet worshipped by wildass, hot-looking macho Italian bootdog animal mutt with an insatiable , inexhaustible boot-licking appe- tite: kiss/ lick/ taste/ suck/ chew boot leather: lick feet, suck toes, eat toejam; wolf-down raunchy soxs jockstraps. Mutt to be hogtied/ roped by slave mut to be nogited? roped by slave nuts, mandated to submit to heavy cocksucking, VA, WS, rigorous TT, CBT, crotch-shaving, ass-belting, and deliver up his doghole for hard fucking. Prefer Italian, 30-45, w/ moustache, (how uncut meat, big-booted, smelly feet. If White mutt discerns his foredoomed destiny in life is to receive cock as opposed to giving it, and serve as a full-time boot-dog/ piss-toilet/ torture-slave to truculent Black Master, then get on your knees, and write grovelling letter and the bit beautiful letter and submit mandatory photo to: P.O. Box 4672, Los Angeles, California 90051-2672.

PERMANENT

Position available for apprentice house slave. Must be masculine and obedient. Submit detailed application with full length photo to: P.O. Box 9061 Palm Springs, CA 92263.

THE HANDJOB FRAT.

Is a L.A. nonprofit group j / o club in its 3rd year. J / O enthusiasts (local only please) write to: H.J.F. 11020 Ventura Blvd., Box 293 Studio City, CA. 91604.

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

HOT ESCORT AVAILABLE

5'8", 44" Chest, 32" Waist, Blonde Hair and Beard, Hairy Body, German— Cherokee Descent, Into Weightlifting, SM, B / D, T7T, Water Sports, Electricity, And Most Scenes. Very Versatile, Have Lived Most of My Fantasies But Perhaps I Can Help You Live Out Yours. Fly Me Anywhere For A Weekend Of Imaginative Adventure. Call Days Only Mon-Fri, 10-5, Ask For Bill, (303) 440- 4782. You Won't Regret It.

CONNECTICUT

MOTORCYCLE LEATHER MASTER

Experienced seeks partners who want and need S&M, 8&D, TT, C&BT, Gr / Fr, WS, Domination and other Leather actions including Leather toys. Send me your applications. Limits respected. Leather Tops & Cowboys welcome to share.

DELAWARE

CC WILMINGTON

A mid 40's top man/ master desires a slim passive slave type. Prefer a young novice. Italian, Oriental, Puerto Rican, Black, WHB P.O. Box 251 Wilmington DE 19899

DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

MASTER WANTED

To enjoy BD, leather, rubber, and piss. Me—25, 6'2", 180. You—over 30, hairy, preferably uncut and looking for a goodtime w / no commitment. Write P.O. Box 1165, Washington DC 20008.

HANDBALL DEVOTEE

170 lbs solid muscle, 5'10", 38, dark, bearded. InterChain 226. I am essentially dominant and totally masculine but can be warm, loving, considerate and always sensual. Self-confidence based on intelligence, experience, maturity, and self-acceptance. Am my own man and not captive of any role. Years of residence in Berlin, Paris and Stockholm have given me European flexibility. Besides FF, am into all sides of Fr, Gr, titwork and like both intense one-on-ones and group scenes. Sound interesting? Balls in your court. Box 3712

SLAVE

Desires to serve smooth, well-equipped Masters into verbal abuse, CS, WS, bondage, & lite S / M. If you relish dominance of older slave in good condition, I am your Q. Write: Sandy, 412 G Street, S.E., Washington, D.C. 20003.

FLORIDA

FT. LAUDERDALE MASCULINE Imaginative, dominant Master seeks together bottom studs into FF, WS, bondage, S&M, C&B / T, piercing, shaving , etc., for 3-way with in-house slave. Can administer heavy discipline, but limits are respected. No permanent damage. Demanding but considerate. Photo and mailing address a must, phone optional. Am 47, 165 lbs, 7" cut with big balls and big hands. FF is optional, but am a special delight for wide receivers. Box 258.

IN SEARCH OF OLDER MEN? LOOK RIGHT HERE!

FT. LAUDERDALE

Masculine, stable, good looking top with firm but gentle style seeks subjects for "training." Reasonable limits respected. Applicant will include photo and phone in letter of application. Jake, Box 130051, 2260 NW 68th Ave FL 33313.

ATTRACTIVE, BEARDED MASTER 36, seeks crotch, piss slaves, who enjoy humiliation, being used. Travel widely. Box 10274, Tallahassee, FL 32302

WANTED: SLAVE/ LOVER M:wh, un36, some exper Ithrsex, slim or musc, could re-locate, educ, mature. S:Wh, 40, educ, finan secure, 6'3", BB, Handsome, completely masc & dom, has Full Ithr & equip, boots, toys for It to hvy S&M, B&D, VA, CBTT, WS, GrA, FrP, Respect lim, but we'll expand them

M:describe self & exper, phone#, recent photos, turn-ons & offs, any limits to S:Answer w / more info & specs, my pics, Plan me your area/ you visit S:Fla. Mr. Sir, Box 11816, Ft. Laud., Fla.33339

CENTRAL FL- 6'4" 175#

55 yrs. Best service to horney men on I—75 So of Ocala. Light TT & CBT— No fats- any age or race. Box 3704.

HOT UNINHIBITED MIAMI FLA _evi-leather s / m daddy, yn. 40, 140, Levi-leatner s / m daody, yn. 40, 140, 5*10", professional, stable, secure, intelligent loving dude seeks son, over, friend, 25-40, intelligent, honest, sincere, to share life's good things and to mutually dedicate our lives

HOT

W / M, 31, athletic seeks BB, cops. truckers, linemen, construction. 305- 523-5368. Let's talk.

OUR ADS GET RESULTS!

36 GWM RUBBER AND BOOT SLAVE

Looking for rubber daddy 30-45 also like rubber diapers etc. — picture Shave all my hair and dress me in rubber GAI GAI Can relocate. Like toys too! Box 3746

FT. LAUD. SLAVE

Begs for correspondence and/ or scenes with hot MASTER who knows how to handle a 6'2", blond, blue, wm, in 30's, with good build. Continue training in 8&D, S&M, WS, TT, C&B. This slave needs to serve through the pen or Write with picture please, SIR! body. Wr Box 3750.

HAIRY

Miami MASTER, 33, wants boot-licking bottoms for training in B&D, spanking, paddling, w / s and ballwork. Beginners a specialty. Limits respected. Photo mandatory. Write for naked interview. P.O. Box 144484, Coral Gables, FL 33114.

GEORGIA

-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, 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.

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.

HOT, HORNY WHITE MALE Versatile (Top or bottom) seeks others into fucking, listing, rimming, sucking, dildoes, S&M, W / S, poppers, Levis, leather, boots. Am 27, 150 lbs, 5ft10in. with short brown hair, brown eyes, beard, moustache. No fats, fems, blacks. Bridwell, Box 12348, Atlanta, GA 30355-2348.

ATLANTA S. CANCER

25, 5'10", 170, White, 7", requires young obedient body slave. Must have good body and mind. 1338 Mc Lendon Ave. #2, (404) 525-7749.

HORNY WM, 32, 155 LBS 5'11". Blue eyes, black hair needs good tuck. Light S&M, dildoes, enemas, aroma, three-ways, Versatile French/ Greek, rimming, FF, tit & ass play, Seeks like minded. Photo appreciated. H. Roberts, 98 Robins, GA 31093.

MATURE SEEKS TOP 25—40 For daytime service in Atlanta. P.O. Box 54064, 30308

MUSCULAR MASCULINE MATURE Discreet married bisexual with fantasies for discreet meeting with same type C.M.M. Box 1472 Lilburn Georgia 30247.

40% TOP, 60% BOTTOM

Boots, whips, heavy tit/ ass work. P / P. TLC. Wild. 42, 6'2", 172. Seeks lean com- patriots. All scenes. Fulfill phantasies. Multiple orgasms. Pix/ details: Betje-man , P.O. Box 27528, Atlanta GA 30327.

W / M, 34, 5'10" 140#

Uncut. Seeks cop for relationship, anywhere , any age, any race. Will relocate. Box 3745.

IDAHO

W / M— 48— 6'4" 185 LB— Seeks Lean— 18-25 son/ slaveboy— loveing. Seeks lasting relationship write your expec- tations & photo— R.R. Field P.O. Box 1358- Priest River, Idaho- 83856.

ILLINOIS

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, 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.

GERMAN MASTER

Hairy men in need of discipline apply to tough but caring German (handsm, blond, blue, hung, uncut). Photos are essential. Novices OK. P.O.B. 6262, Chi-cago , IL 60680.

CHICAGO AREA Professional blonde WM 6'1", 50, 180 seeks tall handsome leather top under 40 will compensate if nec send photo phone# to Box 3673.

LONGJOHN GUYS WANTED

Into underwear/ longjohn scenes incl. B&D/ HUM, Jay 606 W. Barry #179 Chi-cago IL 60657

GOODLOOKING, SLENDER

Very hot leather top, 26, seeks other tops or bottoms into leather. I dig the looks, smell, and feel of leather. Can be versatile. Dig chaps, levis, boots, etc. Illinois and surrounding states. Photo necessary with letter, Box 3713.

GWM, 6'3", 180#, 8", 44, M Sexual topman wants his own GWM, 30 plus, bottom friend/ slave, lover, send picture with reply and phone number to Box 214, 606 W. Barry Chicago, Illinois, 60657

CHICAGO TV-MAMA

Loves Men who are men, 18-40, Uncut, Latin's, Uniform's, Biker's, Trucker's, Master's, W / S, I'm willing to try any- thing once! NO FEM'S/ PHONE FREAK'S, T. Harris 1725 N. Albany #1 Chicago, III. 60647. (312)235-8305.

CHICAGOLAND

Man-Boy 27, 5'10", 175, clean shaven, looking for a man to try and collar me, chain me, and sexually use me. I'm finally learning I was meant to submit. If you can train my mind and body to respect you, write. Box 3737.

CHICAGO MASTER 41 6'2" 190# 41 wants studs for photo session in hot playroom-dungeon. S&M action if desired but not necessary. Box 2630 Chicago, ILL. 60690.

INDIANA

STUD, 22, AND DAD, 36 Both hot, 6', 160, seek bottoms 18-22, punks also to help gang Dad. P.O. Box 1063 Muncie, IN 47305.

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.

SERIOUS

About Leather, raunch, muscles, assholes. Goodlooking bodybuilder 5'9", 165 lbs, 36, likes action and red hot correspondence with musclemen, tops, toughs, and perverts. Box 3720.

LOVING MASTER

Wants chunky slave boy, 25-45. Real-tionship. Box 3753.

MARYLAND

SLAVE / SERVANT WANTED Muscular tall; 6'2" @ 210 Lbs. Plus; butch or androgunous gwm. Versatile, obedient, quiet. Write Box 3738.

MASSACHUSETTS

B&D BOY SPANKING

Step dad 43 disiplines step sons if you need your bottom warmed write. Hand Paddle Strap. Box.3677

BOSTON MASTER

30, 6' 160 LBS, muscular & handsome looking for slaves into sucking my cock, being humiliated, spanked and fucked. Write with a picture. Box 3701.

BOSTON—FF TOP Wanted by HRY BLD WM 40, 165# to join my lover, WM 43 155# in giving me double fisting. Large hands/ cock a plus but not nec. Box 3730.

JOIN THE ACTION MEN

Boston wrestling club offers member- ship listings newsletters Box service + more. Send S.A.S.E. to BWC GMF 1081 Boston MA 02205 Dept. D.

HOT NIPPLE DAD

Looking for younger punk son needing training and to exchange tit torture. I expect him to have a level head tight not very hairy body. He should be wil- ling to endure fantacies with respecting dad, a young 40, open minded with hairy body. Dad also enjoys jogging, yard work & video. Not hung up on bar scene. You will be glad. Box 3756.

MICHIGAN

WILL ASSUME EITHER

Role, or both, for weekend bondage and discipline in wilderness setting. Box 3725

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

MISSOURI

NAKED, CHAINED, SHAVED Kansas City. Tattooed S, 45, 6'2", mus- cular 185, 7", 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.

MILITARY TRAINING

3 Military Drill instructors will administer discipine, physical training, cell confinement, & prolonged immobile restraint in a realistic military atmosphere for weekend or week long ses- sions. Safe, sane, discreet and monitored confinement for Boot Camp,

DEALER INQUIRIES CALL: (213) 669-0442

KAJUN

INTERNATIONAL

P.O. BOX 291537, LOS ANGELES, CA. 90029

DRUMMER 58

IN THE BEGINNING Natural Lube is a body lubricant that is odorless, tasteless, water soluble and blo-degradable. Natural Lube removes\neasily when first washed in warm water before applying soon, Natural Lube is natural pro grade ingredients, no undesireable chemicals or other additives.

Congratulations, Drummer, on your 8th anniversary—the heavy-duty Levi / leather magazine!

THE ORIGINAL IT'S ONLY NATURAL!

THE MEMORY LINGERS

Hot Lube is a body lubricant with a mint like odor and taste, water soluble and bio-degradeable. Hot Lube removes easily when first washed with warm water before applying scap.

Caution: The warm effect of Hot Lube may produce some discomfort. The intensity of Hot Lube can be reduced by adding Natural Lube and mixing well. Hot Lube is a Natural product made from 100% food grade ingredients , no undesireable chemicals or other additives.

THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES

Ultra Lube is a body lubricant with the scent of clove, is tasteless, water soluble and bio-degrad-able. Ultra Lube removes easily when first washed with warm water before applying soap. Ultra Lube when used properly doesn't require a large amount to serve its intended use and, if more is required, use sparingly. Ultra Lube is a natural product made of 100% food grade ingredients. No undesireable chemicals or other additives used.

Stockade, or POW training. Mummification , sensory deprivation, controlled breathing situations also available, Individual or buddy system entry. No FF, Scat, Drugs. Fee required, References available. Address Serious Inquir-les to: Training Center Information, P.O. Box 672, Bridgeton, MO 63044, All rep- lies answered. (314-867-7233)

HUGE TITS

My tortured tits, beaten body, and insatiable tongue await your use. Good-looking, hairy chest, uncut, lots of fun for your pleasure. Box 3694.

YOUR ADS GET RESULTS!

DAD LOOKING

For young son to assist with duties on 5 wooded acres in serving dad. Some discipline expected and respect for a motorcycling master. Send photo with your facts & reason why you should be the chosen one to share my life— W / M Southern MO. Box 3736

NEVADA

G / W / M, 29, 5'10", 165 ST. APPEAR Looking for super hung stuff— I idolize cock and can play with it well. Into serious sucking and some verbal aggression. Prefer older men with strong mental attitudes, beliefs and experience lets correspond some before we meet. I travel to Calif., Ariz. S.Utah, and upstate. Absolutely no relationships, sm etc. Las Vegas. Box 3731

NOVICE NEEDS FF INSTRUCTION

Open to most other scenes. 5'11", 195. Hairy men and toys a big turn-on. Age unimportant, attitude is. Your place only. Write with photo, then let's meet. George, 316 California Ave. #223, Reno, 89509. Discretion expected, NV assured

NEW JERSEY

NORTHERN JERSEY W / m, 43, 6'2", 185 lbs, hairy, knowledgeable, masculine, dominant and aggressive Master; yet quiet, straight acting and appearing seeks slave, 25-35, for permanent live-in relationship . Muscular body a plus. Willing to train novice to my ways. Will respect limits. No hard or ruff stuff. No drugs, fats, fems, or phonies. Box 291.

PHOTOGRAPHER—BRIGHT Witty attractive, oral, 32— wants to focus lens, lust on trim, hairy men 18- 40, Let's swap pix/ licks. RIX, Box 597. Belleville, NJ 07109.

NEW YORK

WAY OUT S&M

Given to hot body, young, experienced or beginner M by well-equipped, level- headed 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 necessary for behavior control. Heavy S&M, pain, FF, Scat NOT approved. Prisoner'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,

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, fakes. Box 185R

ATTENTION SLAVES Manhattan Master, 36, 6'4", 190 lbs with slave, 32, 6'3", 170 lbs. Both are muscular, 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

MASCULINE LEATHER HOLE Very handsome Leo BB, 26, 6'6", 205#, blond, smooth. Big hungry butt, throat for long, exploring sessions. FF, leather, titwork, piss, toys, S&M, many things if approached with right attitude . You: hot, experienced, together. Hairy muscles a special turnon. Train me, guide me, lead me to new levels through trust & respect, not violence or humiliation. Include photo / phone. Your place. Box 3338.

YOU CAN NOW LIST YOUR PHONE NUMBER $1 VERIFICATION!

NEW YORK CITY BOTTOM W / m, 57", 135 lbs., brown hair, brown eyes, moustache, hairy. Hot ass, wants to be bound & fucked. Also into B / D, W / S, shaving, spanking, light S / M, enemas, polaroids, toys. Seeks patient & understanding topman to teach and help me expand my limits. Must be 25- 40, good body, attractive. Photo & phone appreciated. Box 3373.

(212)672-1010 TOP / INSATIABLE

JKSN HTS, QNS W / m, 6 / 160 / bro / bro, You now know all you need to know about this insatiable top, who's always looking for true bottoms, short of talk, but long on their capability to absorb both unlimited verbal & physical abuse. Having worn both the green of the army, as well as the blue of the navy, will obviously give preference to former members of the military and / or married slobs, who realize it is their preordained destiny in life to receive cock, as oppose to giving it. Box 3381

EASY INSTRUCTIONS DYNAMITE RESULTS!

W / M 36 145 LBS

With little experience seeks Master to train body and mind for His pleasure and enjoyment. Will consider permanent slavery. Prefer tall no nonsense Master to help reach fulfillment as obedient slave. Box 3432

MEN OVER 40

Age and strength deserve respect. WM, 28, 5'4", 135, dk hr, brd, hry, musc, new to NYC, inexp but enth, sks WM 40+ top / master, brd, hry, (pref) musc for reg trng sessions. Spend 20 cents and 10 minutes. I'm worth it. Box 3344.

MOTORCYCLE LEATHERMAN

Let's have leather sex on and off our bikes. Slaves invited if you can take B&D, C&BT, TT, SM, WS, etc. Novice will be trained. Men from areas of NY, CT, NJ, MASS. Write me with details and photo. Box 3035.

SPITOON BOOTWIPE URINAL

Drooling deviate dog grovels for beer drinkin', cigar-smokin', ass-kickin', straight men: ex-con toilet slurps cop- snot, trucker-feet, biker-butt for public

LEATHER BULLETIN BOARD

Come on guys, get on the schtick! Sure, summer's here, but I can't believe that everyone's packed his leather away.

A.I.D.S. is having a tremendous impact on the entire gay community, making guys reassess their values and their relationships with others. There's nothing wrong with that.

In my last column I touted the Chicago Hellfire Club's Inferno in September. I had a very good reason for doing so. The CHC is not essentially a sex club. It epitomizes s group of men who possess a dedication to the sadomasochistic ethos, men who continually grow in the conscious realization of their SM potential. On the whole, membership is not easy for an individual to acquire. So, as you can readily appreciate, the September meeting will bring together a worldwide group of the most proficient and devoted practitioners of this serious and arcane art.

A great deal of fanciful material has been written about SM and it should be left in its particular realm. Fiction is fiction , although it can give the reader a bit of reality; but it should not be read as gospel. It's jack-off literature pure and simple. There are stories which have a touch of realism and give you some worthwhile information, but you must have the insight to appreciate it.

The hallmark of SM is care and responsibility . The top or master must constantly be tuned into the bottom or slave. If the players are plugged into each other, the scene acquires an intensity which transcends the sexual. The exchange of psychic energy is incredible. Each man has his own part; each part serves to enhance the total experience.

Men who are insecure in their own masculinity tend to denigrate the role of the bottom. Everyone wants to project the image of being a top. It is not a matter of which side you wear your keys on, but where your head and heart are. I have watched effective tops who have looked absolutely brilliant only because of the responses of the bottom.

Proficiency and growth in the SM art can be a very absorbing occupation. In its exercise, whether as a top or bottom, a man can discover facets of his being which he did not know really existed. It can take the practitioner to levels of self-awareness and fulfillment that he never really suspected.

Ignorance bespeaks a closed mind. Those who criticize the SM scene do so out of ignorance and an unwillingness to appreciate its many virtues. It is easier to carp against the unknown and label it 'sick' than to examine and weigh its potential and then, possibly, to reject it only because it does not suit one's needs.

The space this column allows me could never hope to give you an abridged introduction to SM, but I hope that for some of you it might have piqued your interest.

The gay community is in a real state of transition. Everyone is looking for an alternative to general promiscuity. The intelligent man who can look beyond the end of his cock should examine the SM scene. It could awaken the depths of one's mind and sensibility.

Don't forget to send me information of your coming attractions.

-Frank Hatfield

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ULLIVITE

BUIKE

STATE KILLERS

In September of 1976, during the Carter administration, Orlando Letelier, a former Chilean government minister who had been expelled from his country following the military coup, and two American citizens, a married couple, were assassinated when a bomb went off in Letelier's car on a Washington, DC street. Letelier's legs were actually blown off his body; the woman in the front seat next to him was crushed to death by the impact of the explosion; her husband, sitting in the back seat, was only half-killed and managed to survive. Terrorism on a new scale has come to the heart of the champion of democracy. An Assistant U.S. Attorney, Eugene M. Propper, was assigned to the case to ferret out the facts from the wreckage of the automobile and the bodies, to find the assassins, if possible , and to bring them to justice. It took five years. When the pieces of this strange and complex puzzle were all in place and the assassins had confessed, both the Chilean and parts of the U.S. government would be involved, as well as the highly-organized anti-Castro Cubans of Miami and elements of the U.S. State Department . And then something else happened almost as odious as the assassinations themselves. This awesome and chilling investigation into the death of Orlando Letelier has been reconstructed by Eugene M. Propper and Taylor Branch in Labyrinth (Penguin Books, 1983, trade paperback). Written with the riveting style of the finest espionage novel, laced with one incredible revelation after another about U.S. foreign policy , Branch and Propper's book is a relentless page-turner: frightening, unnerving, unpredictable, unforgettable.

FORESKINS

It had to happen. Bud Berkeley, Joe Tiffenbach and the Uncircumcised Society of America got their files and heads together and produced Foreskin, the book about the subject of the same name, from the people who know the subject best.

Foreskin has everything: photos of the uncut as well as the cut, testimonials, true stories, circumcision data and fantasies, all wrapped around Berkeley's relentless "History of Foreskins" (part of which was serialized in Drummer).

Naturally, there is always something left out of any anthology-I found areas I wanted to see covered that weren't and I'm sure you will too; but still, there is more than enough here to meet the needs of guys fascinated and / or obsessed with lace curtains. And the publishers are already planning a Foreskin II.

Information on Foreskin is available from: Bud Berkeley, Box 26011, San Francisco , CA 94126.

FRIDAY

Robert A Heinlein does one thing better than any other science fiction writer, create new human beings. His Stranger in a Strange Land did not become a cult novel for nothing, and his latest creation, Friday, an Artificial Person, is even more awesome than Michael of Stranger fame. Friday, the novel, (Del Rey, paperback, 1983) is Heinlein at his finest: swift, sure, erotic, constantly changing. Friday, the character, an agent for an interplanetary organization, is a woman unlike any you've ever imagined. Under Heinlein's direction, Friday lives a life well beyond the pale, but as enchanting and slick as the hull of a star system cruiser. Definitely something to stay up all night about.

GAY SCANDINAVIA

A fact-filled, well-mapped, heavily advertised new gay touring book for the Scandinavian countries (Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Iceland) in a compact 128-page format has been published by COQ, one of the biggest porn houses in

Denmark. Written in three languages (including English), the illustrated guidebook covers all the major cities of the five Scandinavian countries (Iceland is really an esoteric addition, since it is not usually included in Scandinavian tours), including commercial as well as political and social groups. Something useful about the local customs and laws of each country is included, as well as extremely useful phone numbers and service organizations . Besides the obvious bar-cath-cafe routine, Gay Scandinavia includes information on outdoor cruising, nude and gay beaches, special events, and the like. you can, from reading the entire guide, get a very good idea about best times to travel to the countries listed in accord with your own weather / activity preferences . The advertising—quite a bit—is a nice addition, giving you a good idea of how gays in Scandinavia cater to their own community. Although COQ is well-known for their hard core pornography, this guidebook has been kept soft to avoid customs problems. Information on Gay Scandinavia is available by writing: COQ, Postboks 30, DK-4300 Holbaek, Denmark.

-Charles R. Musgrave

LEATHER IN THE WO

The time: late July. The setting: a very popular gay resort right in the middle of Northern California's Russian River forests. The occasion: the first Annual Leather Weekend at the Woods—a very popular and rustic resort s

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Film (continued from page 84) tracts; especially the lead dancers, which just don't cotton to "Take a walk, buddy" hiring and firing policies.

But no matter, Tony (Travolta) can't dance anyway, nor does he. What he does is a series of brilliantly executed leaps and landings, muscles tense—and revealed more than ever before—all created by the real choreographer of Staying Alive, the film editor. Not once do you see Tony execute a single combination of steps from start to finish, except during rehearsals , where mistakes are expected and delivered.

Of course, the show is a smash hit; mainly because Tony has broken 'script' and executed a self-inspired little routine in place of the prescribed footwork although he manages to reconnect it to the dance's grand finale. It must be okay with the director, because he doesn't have Tony assassinated from the wings. It sounds stupid, because it is stupid; but that's not my major gripe with Stallone, Travolta, and Staying Alive.

The dancer that Tony replaces is gay. It's made abundantly clear that he's gay-by Tony and by the director of the Broadway show. An aside: Tony also accuses his off-and-on girlfriend's new boyfriend of being gay—which he clearly isn't—but which only reinforces Tony's (and the scriptwriter's) homophobia. There is no background in the script for Tony to be personally anti-gay; no flaming queen director that tries to make him-nothing. This crap is coming from Stallone and co-writer Norman Wexler. And it is not only unnecessary, it carries a strange, perverted twist all its own: Tony, the heterosexual dancer, is better than the homosexual dancer he replaces. It's sort of like Turning Point gone vicious-it's okay to be a man and a dancer if you're straight and if you're straight you're automatically better.

Without its homophobia, this would have just been another mindless romp. The homophobia comes from the personal insecurity of Stallone, because obviously he can't equate male dancers with normal… Staying Alive becomes a movie about a man shadow-boxing with his own ignorance.

I think we've put up with this mealymouth stupidity from the chairmen of what is acceptable for long enough. It's time we called shit shit and not excused it as shinola. I'd be the first person to uphold anyone's right to make a movie about anything he wants and equally the first to advise not contributing to it by giving them your money in order that they might better spit in your face. Leave Staying Alive to the walking dead for which it was intended. While I wish the best possible future for Stallone and Tra-volta , I promise not to write one word or spend one minute of my energy on either of them again.

-John W. Rowberry

Colt Thomas, the new Mr. International Leather, made his second trip to the area in two months to be feted at a special party by the Arena. Popular San Francisco-based Sylvester made an unannounced appearance and sang along with the already-touted Tacka Boom, cheered on by the packed audience. Dancers from the Falcon Dance Theatre, who have moved into the spotlight in San Francisco's leather community, staged two different new works on two consecutive nights.

Another unannounced event was a scandalous orgy in Cabin Five on Saturday night (and Sunday morning) that was the chief topic of conversation for the rest of the weekend. While we'd never tell who was there, there was, it is rumored, a lot of surprising new meat laid on the table in that particular cabin.

The Woods was real pleased with the turnout and the high degree of social interaction and are planning for an even bigger blast next year.

If you were there on Leather's big night you saw it for yourself. And we hope you were given a program along with a hard-on. So what do you need another program for, you ask? This is the updated, supplemented, added-to program with the winner(s) in all their nude glory, what happened backstage, offstage and in all the stages of getting aquainted that weekend.

Filled with exclusive photos by the army of photographers covering the big event and the parties before and after. The snakes, the cakes, the chains and the watermelon along with the stars of the show. Photos that can't appear in DRUMMER.

It was a night to remember, certainly one we'll never forget. The super extra-pages program will be a collectors' item.

갦 1 / 13 83 H 1,1,13

While they last,

DRUMMER Magazine 15 Harriet Street San Francisco, CA 94103

Send me my program quick! Enclosed is three bucks.

NAME ADDRESS CITY, STATE, ZIP

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☐ I missed issues ☐ One ☐ Two ☐ Three ☐ Four ☐ Five, Send them to me. Here's my $6 each.

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GO WITH MR. DRUMMER '83 FOR A TOUR OF

KTOBERFEST

YOUR PERSONAL GUIDE!

Fly from New York or San Francisco to Munich for the event of the year. As Americans representing Leathermen under the auspices of DRUMMER, the hospitality of German Leathermen will be beyond belief! It's a class act all the way with services and events that are not available to the single traveler. Bring your leather and your highest expectations— you won't be disappointed!

OKTOBERFEST-TREFFEN MLC eV. MÜNCHEN

INFO: MLC POSTF 163 8000 MÜI

Send Now!

Send right now for your color brochure describing this trip, along with cost and details. Send us $1 for postage and handling and we'll apply it to the cost of your trip. Hurry! This will be a sellout!

DEPARTING SEPT. 22, RETURNING OCT. 1

Thursday, 22 September: Depart USA from New York / San Francisco Friday, 23 September: Arrive Munich 8:55am, Transfer to hotels by bus (provided ), baggage handling personal, Wel- come Party 7:00pm (Includes a drink and Bavarian snacks) at Zum Lohengrin (sponsored by Zum Lohengrin, Eagle and Ochsengarten) Saturday, 24 September: Munich Leather Club to Neuschwanstein (King Ludwig the Mad's Castle) 10am-6pm, International Leather Party at Vollmerhaus 9pm, Outrageous Costume Show 11pm Sunday, 25 September: Brunch at Vollmerhaus 11am-2pm (Music and dancing), Oktoberfest Beer Hall 5pm Monday, 26 September: Froeder Tuesday, 27 September: tember: Free day Tuesday, 27 September: Munich Tour: Glockenspiel, Museum, Nym- phenburg, Olympic Village Wednesday, 28 September: Berchtesgarden tour, Sauna Party at Sports Sauna Thursday, 29 September: Free day, Possible special party for Drummer Tour hosted by Munich Leather Club Friday, 30 September : Farewell Dinner at Spockmeier am Rofeneck Saturday, 1 October: Depart Munich at 11am, arrive USA (New York & San Francisco) same day

THE TRIP OF YOUR LIFETIME!

Send me your DRUMMER OKTOBERFEST brochure. Enclosed is a buck, réfundable against my trip.

NAME.

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(Signature)

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