Drummer #86

DRUMMER

Vol. 10, No. 86

18 articles · 0 pages

"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."

— Henry David Thoreau

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Cover

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front matter

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RUBBER: STRETCHING THE LIMITS by Aaron Travis

An elastic fantasy about synthetic desires and clinging phantoms...

METAMORPHOSIS by Mark I. Chester

He is New York man/urban survivor. White Punk. Rubber Boy. An explorer into the outer reaches...Boy Wonder meets Mad Max in a mixture of rubber and leather.

THE BOX

The object is sensory control. The vehicle is The Box. Once inside, you may never be the same...

REPORT

The latest on the macho scene, from nekkid cops to new life in the South of Market scene.

MALECALL

DRUMMER DADDIES

Raunchy feet, potent cigars—the kid just can't get enough.

DRUMSTICKS

SAVAGE FICTION SECTION: THE DRUMMER MENAGERIE

Three wild and unruly stories to quell those end-of-summer blues. Hal de Compton tells the tale of Mutt, about a young man who likes it ruff. Don Perry's new serial Fly takes wing, about a superTop with an unsatisfied anal urge. And David May returns with Jason, Cat, a story of mystery, leather and lurking feline suspense.

Fly by Don Perry

Somewhere in rural Maine...

Jason, Cat by David May

How coudl Bernie want to break him?

LEATHER NOTEBOOK

SPECIAL CATALOG SUPPLEMENT: THE SOURCE

You need it? Need it bad? Try The Source.

DEAR SIR!

The man-to-man classifieds to beat all others!

DRUMMEDIA MOVIES

Picking the rough trade out of a glut of marshmallow summer flicks, we give the once-over to Rambo, Thunderdome, and Silverado.

DRUMMEDIA PRESS

The shame of the New York Native: The most virulent anti-SM tirade in years has surfaced in the pages of a respected gay newspaper.

101

DRUM by Bill Ward

104

SAFESEX SLAVESCHOOL by Max Exander

A new vision of care and training in the 1980s.

110

TOUGH CUSTOMERS

More rubber—this: TC's got the stretchiest wardrobe around!

113

SLAVES OF THE EARTH by Aaron Travis

At last: Aaron Travis' Roman epic is hot off the press!

118

IN PASSING

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Masthead

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front matter

Copyright

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Copyright © 1985 by ALTERNATE PUBLISHING. All rights reserved. No part of this magazine may be reproduced without prior written permission from the publisher. Published monthly by Alternate Publishing, 640 Natoma Street, San Francisco, California 94103. A stamped, self-addressed return envelope must accompany all manuscripts, photographs and artwork that are to be returned. Alternate Publishing can assume no responsibility for material damaged or lost through the mail. Any similarity between characters appearing in Drummer and real persons is coincidental. The representation or appearance of any person in Drummer is not to be taken as an indication of his or her sexual preference. All inquiries concerning the Leather Fraternity should be addressed to Alternate Publishing at the above stated address.

feature

RUBBER: STRETCHING THE LIMITS

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by Aaron Travis

p. 6 · 4 pp · scans: 6, 7, 8, 9

An elastic fantasy about synthetic desires and clinging phantoms...

NG THE LIMITS

Aaron Travis

The Rubber Master stands over you. He has encased you in his element. You cannot see, hear, smell him, but you feel his presence…like so many times before…

Rubber can be natural, as natural a substance for covering the flesh as leather-though its origin is plant, not animal. The vegetarian's leather. Or it can be synthetic, produced at will in laboratories of human ingenuity. An animal is stripped of its hide, its flesh tanned and cured, and the end product is a vest, a jacket, an armband, a pair of chaps molded over lean, sinewy hips. A tree is stripped of its bark in sprial bands and bled of sap; the juice is heated, treated, made to conform to desired shapes that mold the body more tightly than any other substance. Natural rubber is even more primal than natural leather, its origins even more ancient and alien. Synthetic rubber is more alien still, a chemical creation of polymers. Rubber is the substance of prehistory and science fiction sex.

The Rubber Master produces a dildo: thick, long, and like all of his implements, made of his favorite element. He coats it with a polymer sheen, and as you bend before him, he inserts is full-length into your waiting rectum. You are held fast upon his rubber dildo, held fast inside the rubber suit, penetrated and protected by the

Rubber Master's chosen substance…

PHOTO BY MARK I. CHESTER

The heritage of rubber: American Heritage Dictionary defines it as a noun. After the scientific and industrail definitions comes the good part: One who rubs; One who gives a massage; Something made of rubber, as an eraser; (slang) a condom.

You are encased in rubber from head to foot, penetrated by rubber-a dildo in your ass, a ball-gag between straining lips, accepting the imprint of teeth unable to clench. Your cock as well is sheathed in rubber; not a sheer prophylactic in nude fleshtone, but a heavy black rubber casing, outlining your balls and cock as if they were a replica cast in black polymer. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. You are waterproofed, so that when he stands over you, pointing his great truncheon toward your face, your chest, your own upstanding rubber-covered erection, you feel the wet pelting like drumbeats against your desensitized flesh, as it runs over you, runs off you to gather in a pool at your knees. And nothing escapes: your sweat forms a sweltering layer between your fist and second skins, your own gushing urine is trapped in the heavy-duty cock-and-ball condom, ballooning it outward, a viscera in which your genitals float suspended…

He binds you with straps of inner tubes. You have known bondage before, but this is a different sensation—the rubber yields in a way that leather never does, allowing you some leverage-depending on your strength-but sapping you as you strain against it. The elasticity excites you, tempts you to attempt escape—but in the end it defeats you utterly. Now you are exhausted, and the bands wrapped tight around you seem all the stronger in proportion to your defeat…

He remembers the first condom he ever wore. It was a child's balloon, red. Something about the shape keyed the potential in his awakening awareness of sacred shapes. He fit it over his cock, peeling it onto his erection like a sheer second skin. The band fit supertight over the base. The color and the way it outlined the ridge of the head, traced every vein, was somehow obscene and exhilarating. He had never even heard of a condom or a prophylactic. He peeled it off, pissed inside it, tied it off and threw it against a wall, watching the Jackson Pollack pattern it made, like a splattered painting in piss…

The Rubber Master has connected you to his tubes. Rubber tubes, of course, flowing into all the moist openings of your body. A tube into your mouth, another into your ass, another into your piss slit, and tiny tubes feeding into your nostrils. The body takes in and expels liquids and gasses at his command. He controls the elements now, through the medium of rubber. The tube in your ass is an enema tube, filling you with fluid. Now more tubes, attached to your flesh: suction tubes on your distended nipples, sucking the blood to the surface, making the sensitive points of flesh tingle and ache. Another suction tube on the place between your balls and asshole, sucking sensation into a forgotten erogenous zone.

Now he takes the truncheons, beating you with rubber against rubber. It smacks loudly, liquidly, and at first the blows seem far away. Then the stinging begins…

Once another man hung you by your wrists from the rafters, naked. The

bindings on your wrists were made of rubber, so that you bobbed helplessly up and down when he pulled on your balls or punched you in the gut, like a toy, like another man's puppet. Then he stood back, and you waited, wondering what he had in store. There was a plastic sack on the table beside him, filled with something…you bobbed and turned a few degrees, and he spun out of sight. Then the wasp stung your shoulder blade, and you knew. Another sting, on your ass cheek-you continued turning-another sharp sting, glancing off your testicles, making you draw up and bob harder, faster, increasing the spinning as the hornets continued their attack. It was a sack of rubber bands at his side. Perhaps a hundred in all. One by one he mounted then against his thumb, stretched them back and let them fly. When it was over, your flesh was an envelope of sweet pain, marked with a hundred tiny welts. He took you from your bondage and wrapped you in his arms.

The Rubber Master pulls a similar trick. Encased in your rubber body suit, he lays you on the table. He grips the thin rubber at a point above your right nipple, between his forefinger and thumb, pulls it up as far as the element will yield, then lets it snap down again. Rubber snap against swampy flesh. Not as sharp as the flying rubber bands, but a stronger, duller pain. He pulls up the rubber and lets it snap back against your balls. You writhe on the table. Against your stomach, arms, thighs. He turns you over and pops it against your ass. Jesus! Like nothing you've ever… And when it is over, he pulls you from the table and wraps his body around you, and you feel his body heat through the elastic embrace..

Oil on rubber, slicker than anything else. Piss on rubber. A rubber cock ring pulling heavy on your ballsack. The sweat inside a body suit, draining you of will and resistance along with your salt, and the thirst that follows, like a need you've never guessed existed. Pelted with water balloons-memories of humiliations as a kid-balloons like bladders filled with piss, balloons filled with scalding water, with bursting sprays of paint, with KY, heavy as mercury and hard as a fist in the stomach, then slick as semen all over your belly when they burst. Crawling through a man-size inner tube lined with dildos, like a porcupine turned inside-out-anywhere you sit or reach or open your mouth, the rubber fills you. Smells of warehouses, factories, auto shops, memory of the good-ole-boy mechanic who snapped an inner tube against your unsuspecting ass, and the shock on his face when you looked back at him with sex in your eyes.

You stand before a tropical tree, stripping off its bark, and the rubbery sap runs over you, coating you, drying from the heat of your flesh into a mold that fits you like skin…you sink into an ancient pool of petroleum, the liquid remains of a million creatures from a million years ago-it coats your nakedness, and you emerge from the pool clothed in a thin sheen of purest black…

You hear a droning noise, far above, and you peer into a cloudless sky. High above you, jutting through the air with a proud, bobbing motion, is the great symbol of rubber, the world's ultimate phallic symbol: The Goodyear Blimp, like a disembodied, bloated cock crusing for a port…

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METAMORPHOSIS

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by Mark I. Chester

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He is New York man/urban survivor. White Punk. Rubber Boy. An explorer into the outer reaches...Boy Wonder meets Mad Max in a mixture of rubber and leather.

Text and Photos by Mark I. Chester

Something in his eyes might be dangerous. keep him tied there'll be hell to pay what might happen… he's a little wild (Cut-up by Bill Browning)

I am an outlaw. I have always been an outlaw. Maybe that's why I was turned on to him from the first glance. It took only one look to know that he was an outlaw, too. Piercings. Tattoos. Sharply pointed eyes. And a sense of dress and boyish masculinity that drew as much energy from Road Warrior as it did from motorcycles and black leather.

I know what my turn-ons are. Beards. Streaks of gray. Funky lived-in leather. Glasses. Men with calloused hands and dirt under their fingernails. Balding heads. Experience. I know what doesn't turn me on. Boys. Unmitigated Youth. At 24, this boy is light-years away from what turns me on. We are introduced. We shake hands. And from the heat of our hands touching, my dick gets hard.

His name is Bill Browning. A New York man—urban survivor. But in my mind he is The Boy. Sometimes New York White Punk. And sometimes he is Rubber Boy. He is an escapee from a small town missionary mentality. Now he is an explorer into the outer reaches.

So he explores his body. Changing it. Mutating it. Controlling it. Creating through it a mixture of standard fantasy and outrageous futuristic visions. He is Boy Wonder meets Mad Max in a mixture of rubber and leather. Klatu driving a motorcycle. Devo singing Whip It! and meaning it for the first time. He doesn't fit easily into preconceived boxes. He doesn't take easily to preconceived rules and regulations.

Even before we met, we had met. It was an article about the New World Rub-berman's Club that I wrote for Drummer that flipped some switch in his head. Rubber. Yeah. By the time he visits San Francisco, ideas are blossoming. I should say that I want to fuck him with my camera—let's just say that I want to steal a piece of his soul. The photo session concentrates on portraits, but his dick drips right through his cotton jock. Some energy is exchanged. Some connection is made. And all too soon he is back on a plane to New York.

It is difficult enough to maintain a connection when you live in the same city. Distance is its own kind of bondage. So within constraints, we explore. Letters. Art. Phone calls. Photographs. Drawings. Cut-ups. Juicy Stories. Self-portraits. Dried cum missives sent through the mails. They add up to a diary of change. Progression. Metamorphosis.

This is an odd sense of deja vu when he writes, "My fantasties are not clear. I have interests, but are my fantasies unconscious? I feel blank when asked about this topic. Are they unconscious? It seems like something is trying to work itself out. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but I know it's there inside. My sexual feelings are the focal point. I'm waiting for the right person to initiate me to things I've only thought about."

So he explores and shares his explorations with me. His body, tight, tender and lean, is just right for rubber. "I've had the pleasure of purchasing a particular material such as that like a second skin. Rubber pants and shirt. Wore the pants and enjoyed the feeling. Rubber does have a tendency to grip. After seven hours of wear I went home and jerked myself off thinking of the way the pants felt all night. I've found a new fetish. After being quite normal for weeks on end, the dark imaginative side has emerged from inner corners… World Watch Out."

But he matches the dark with light and serious with absurd. He continues, "On the day I bought the pants, my bag contained quite an interesting collection of items. I giggled at the fact of what would happen if I were run down by a car and the contents spilt out. Rubber pants, a copy of The Leatherman's Handbook second edition, a copy of The Correct Sadist and other everyday items. My reputation would have been ruined. I would never again be thought of as a good little boy."

We talked about the health crisis in the men's community. It is a rough time to be testing out new waters. But rubber can be the safe sex of the 1980s. Sensual but protective. Enclosing yet revealing. The perfect garment for outrageous funky sex. Cleanable and washable in a way

that leather never can be. It doesn't surprise me when he writes, "My interest in rubber has greatly increased. I have recently acquired quite a bit of gear. Pants, shirt, an assortment of gloves (fingerless , gauntlets, above the elbow), jock, a hood, and a pair of thigh-high black rubber boots (steel toed) made by Uniroyal. Also quite a number of rubber strips cut from bicycle innertubes. I'm about all set except for a full-length rubber raincoat. Rubber does become obsessive. I love how it grips the skin and how I look in it. It suits my personality. It brings about some great fantasies."

Fantasies. Realities. One by one he turns his fantasies into realities. Time after time others create realities that go beyond his current fantasies. There is no jealousy. I just want to hear all the details. Juicy Stories., My body responds to the rhythm of his words.

"My first piss scene. It was quite an experience and I was quite turned on. Ended up at the end of the eve at The Mineshaft. I met a guy I felt comfortable with at The Spike. We closed the bar talking about music, art, tattoos, Body as Canvas. We consumed a lot of beer and the body must release. When I mentioned going to the john, he told me that I was going to stay at the bar and if I had to piss I would have to do it there. Well, I stiffened at the thought, after getting over a little bit of hesitation. Well, after a while, my feet were wet. The warm piss felt great on my balls and under the crack of my ass being held up by the tight rubber. So we stood at the end of the bar and drank more beer… The only problem was my wet feet and having to empty out my boots."

And there is more. Snippets of scenes. Pieces of action. His pen tells me of "Rubber pants, shirt, gloves, strips of rubber and rubber boots. Image:

Leather hood, clip-in nose ring. Rubber and tied to a huge truck tire. Being dominated by two. Sucking on rubber covered cocks. Gagged and blindfolded. Darkness… Rubber has brought about new scenes."

He is a changeable chameleon turning standard fantasies inside out. Black leather CHP pants with a white stripe down the side, high leather lace-up boots, rubber tunic, rubber armbands and hair greased down with motor oil, '50s style. Rubber corset, thigh-high rubber boots, fingerless black leather gloves and futuristic hairstyle. Brown leather cord tunic that intertwines and binds the body and head bound with brown leather cord that looks like barbed wire, but all together looks like something out of Greek antiquity.

So we cut apart reality. Rearrange it. Paste it back together again as we see it. He sends me cut-ups created from rearranged standard pap porn: and grunting pleasure at the contact of rubber his barely—his cock the black latex sheets moaning

In return I send him mine: glasses and presto! I transform put on start slowly jacking off into dark masters of fantasy.

Fantasies. Realities. It is hard to tell them apart; where one ends and the next begins. He sends a fantasy that sounds real:

"The morning. My cock moves across my stomach. As a hand lowers and grasps. Go with the flow … My mind fills with a mental picture of a Talkless Man. Unknown, but receiving a response from my body. Eyes moved to a darkened corner. Eyes back. A Cat and Mouse Game. I'm the trapped mouse. In another dark corner.

"A detached hand, finger pointed to the desired position. My feet moved by their own will. And I'm there. Hands touch. But they turn on me. More force and I'm further pressed against the wall. Spit explodes into my face.

"Yes, Yes, Yes… More force and it builds. Yes. No. Yes. No. The game is fluctuating. Think my cock say yes! No, he's too hard.'

Later he sends a reality that reads like jerk-off fantasy:

"The door opens…revealing. Leather cap, nose ring, chest harness. A large leather belt; almost like a corset, but very male. Studded codpiece. And thigh-high leather engineer boots. The glimpse of a black tattoo emerging from the codpiece . 'Take your clothes off.' I shed my covering revealing myself to the drama to unfold. One studded collar with attached leash finds itself a home around my neck as I'm led to the bedroom. Black with mirrors. 'On your knees…lick my boots!' My mind is moving a mile a minute but my tongue sticks its tip out and caresses the black leather. It's as if I couldn't get enough. The nose ring is switched as my reward.

"I'm to remove the codpiece. No, not with the hands. Teeth. It's off and I have a black demon staring me in the face. From the pelvic region down to his cock. A beer-can cock. Huge nipples. 'Suck on 'em like a good boy.' Ball stretcher with weights. Nipple clamps. First one set. The next; tighter. Polaroids taken as the scene unfolds. Restraints added and led to the balcony. As I find myself chained to the doorway looking out over the city. Drops of rain. I wait.

"Finally I'm unchained. Turn Around. A black leather face. Later, I find myself lying on a cold wooden floor. On my stomach. I arise to find a new look. A leather hood with strange metal goggles that had the appearance of bug eyes. Also a very large cigar. Very strange.

"I'm hooded. Eye, nose and mouth openings. Hands touch and pull… Weight in the shape of a lock pulls my cock downward like gravity. Metal teeth. With fangs like a dog or wolf. Afraid of what damage these pair of alien teeth…

"Fantasy runs amok! I release the seed of alien animals, dogs and demons.

We are creating connections, lines of live energy that inextricably bind us. We are…well, friends. There are some things that he understands about the world. Some ways in which he perceives the chaos, that I also understand. There are further trips to SF. Trips to NY. More photography sessions. Outrageous energy. Hard dick standing proud. Public performances that confront sexuality and living in the 1980s. First in SF and later a new one in NY.

Another time it is a self-portrait-scary , intense, deeply-etched in a painfully sharp lines of red and green pen. In another done in black ink, a ring pierces one of his eyes. He writes, "1+1=1 is on the wall, painted on the newspaper, white numbers outlined in black. Painted by a Madman… We are all Mad in some ways; some more than others." And he is working on a set of dolls. Arms torn off. Wrapped tightly in paper and wire. Bent into torturous shapes with more wire, feather, and other adornments . They are funny and frightening.

But much of the time he is a Leo, proud lion. Likes watching people's eyes open wide when he walks by. Puts himself on display. Performs with a band called "Excuse me, Sir." Does solo performances that tweak young trendies' minds. He tells me of a performance at a New York club. "Area's sex party. A peep booth. Covered in rubber from neck down. All black. Putting on a rubber hood with just a hole for nose and mouth. Cutting out sight and affecting hearing. Being a part of, yet almost somewhere else. A song by band called 'Throbbing Gristle' … 'Discipline … Discipline… We need some discipline in here.' A heavy drumbeat and screeching guitars. Begin whipping myself with a handmade rubber whip. Rubber against Rubber. A different type of sting. It continues as the drum beats. I can't see the crowd, but I can feel the heat of their eyes."

He designs more tattoos-black, sculptural and primitive. We get tattoed together; incorporating a piece of his design into mine. We talk of brands and scarification-other primitive beautifications . We get pierced together. A new ring for his dick, a new ring for my ear.

Later he describes the piercing as "A pointed sensation of a sharp point. My eyes are closed to what is about to begin. It almost feels good until the pressure increases to pain. My body becomes as stiff as a board as my dick becomes violated by a large silver needle. The darkness is filled by a blinding white light as the needle finds its way. A sound but not a scream emits from an open mouth. I open my eyes to see the needle through my cockhead. Perverse. Yes, I had been penetrated by another phallic shape. The pain brought me to another level of consciousness unknown to most. Intense pain which is felt but becomes a different feeling. It cleared my mind of thoughts as the white light took over." This is not just a Boy talking. It is a Boy creating for himself manhood rituals. Transforming himself . Modern and primative, connected to the earth.

Months after, I put a larger ring in my dick and send him the smaller one to put in his nipple. So he carries a piece of me in his skin. It is a magical connection. Ritual talisman. It makes us blood brothers.

But there are times when it is hard being so far away. And there are times when for him it is just as hard being 24 and different; an outcast from a group of outcasts. I tell him not to run away from the feelings, not to deny them. But to feel them and then do something with the energy. Put it into pictures. Put it into music. And put it into words. And sometimes he does. I call them mad ramblings.

Mad ramblings received in San Francisco: "Again my cock stands at attention. Wanting action. Alone. My room is the escape into…my fantasy world. Sex, but abusive. I want…I want to feel the sting!!!!! For a couple of days. Abuse me, Please. A good-natured Boy has anger…against the world! I walk. It builds. I need a release. What am I looking for? Sex, I fear it's more than that! Pain is real. My life is not. I want to feel the truth!"

We walk down the street and someone thinks we are brothers. We go to the bars together and people tell us that he is the type of person they want to tie up and torture and I am the person they want to slam into a wall. We walk. The eyes turn. We walk. More eyes turn.

He send me a xerox of a letter from his mother. Plaintive pleas from a small-town born-again religionist. Over and over her words form a litany-You are not one of us anymore, she pleads. You are not one of us anymore, she screams. She proclaims that Bill is living for "Satan's satisfaction." I laugh. I LAUGH. Publicly. Self-hating queers demand that I respect her. But outlaws have been hounded, tortured and slaughtered by the church for hundreds and hundreds of years. I save my respect for someone like Bill-breaking borders, challenging standards.

But, if Bill is not one of them, who is he? And reflected in him, and through our art, who am I? I don't know. I have evolved and changed through knowing him and he through knowing me. Bits and pieces of the answer can be found in these photographs and words. Somewhere caught between the leather and rubber, dark glasses, high lace-up boots, rubber stockings, wild hair, rubber corset, nipple rings, tattoos, and prince alberts. Somewhere caught between the past and the future and an outlaw's pride.

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THE BOX

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p. 18 · 3 pp · scans: 18, 19, 20

The object is sensory control. The vehicle is The Box. Once inside, you may never be the same...

To enter The Box is to be stripped of all self-control. You cannot move. You cannot hear. You cannot see, unless it is merely the sight of your own face staring back at you from Solar-X mirrored glass, the face of a man locked immobile and helpless inside The Box.

Inside The Box: A mask covers your head. It controls your breathing, your sense of smell, your sense of vision. You have a sudden urge to move, even if only to make the least twitch of a finger. But your body is bound, strapped into the seat like an astronaut on a journey into Deep Space, and even your fingers are paralyzed by devious restraint, taped together and firmly packed into leather-padded mitts.

Inside The Box: You are frozen in Space, but acutely conscious of Time. The passage of Time is altered, bent, folded in on itself as in some advanced Einsteinian equation. Each second that passes carries an extra weight as you are alternately deprived of sensation and filled with sensation . You are isolated in Time.

Isolated in Time: Inside The Box, a vibrating dildo penetrates your rectum. A vibrating sheath envelopes your cock. A strange odor enters your nostrils, invading your senses. Fresh air follows, and then another odor, familiar but too faint to recall, piquing your memory, teasing your brain, taking you deeper inside yourself as your mind begins to race in slow motion.

You are being swallowed by heat-a rising heat that originates from below the seat and licks upward over your flesh.

Your armpits begin to moisten, and the sweat erupts from your pores to run in rivulets over your body. The heater beneath the seat has been activated, turning The Box into a sweltering sauna.

You feel a sudden, urgent need to urinate. Will even that act of will be denied you? No. You relax the internal channel, feel the flow begin. But even this familiar sensation is strange, transmuted and magnified by the isolation of Time and crystallized Space.

It is an act of rebellion to piss inside The Box? No. Even this has been accounted for, accommodated for. A miniature urinal attached to your cock traps its fluids and carries them away…

There is another world, outside The Box. The world of The Controller. He extinguishes the light inside The Box, and for an instant you glimpse him standing outside, a man dressed in military fatigues. He brings up the lights, and now you see only your own reflection in the one-way glass-and you know he is watching you. Monitoring you, via the wireless mike inserted in your mask tube. Controlling the air you breathe, the vapors infiltrating your nostrils. Controlling heat and electrical stimulation. He is the man who put you here, at your own request…

The Box is not a fantasy. It is real. Its creator calls it a sensory control box. Sensory control-not sensory deprivation. Control is the key—the surrender of self-control to the overriding input and restraint of the outside Controller. It is all voluntary, of course, and the experiment / experience may be halted at any moment. It is not designed or intended for the uncertain novice. Those who enter The Box have made a special effort to seek it out; often they have traveled a great distance; often they return.

The Box is one specialized creation of The Training Center, located in Missouri. Drummer readers may have seen its Organization ad in the classified pages. According to The Controller himself: "Men with serious interest can experience physical training, cell confinement and immobilization in a realistic military or correctional atmosphere …safe, sane, discreet and monitored… Boot camp, stockade, POW, asylum, sensory deprivation…

The range: From the absolute intimacy of The Box, to open-air , grueling physical training under the staccato commands of an ex-Marine drill instructor. The key, the motivation, is endurance . Sensory stamina. The outer limits of the body immobile and the body in motion. And always: Control. 107

department

REPORT

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p. 21 · 3 pp · scans: 21, 22, 23

The latest on the macho scene, from nekkid cops to new life in the South of Market scene.

FULL OF SHIT

Don't even think about giving a New York City policeman an enema-no matter how much he begs for one. David Barton-Jay, author of the classic book The Enema As An Erotic Art And Its History, learned this lesson the hard way when an undercover cop busted him for prostitution.

As the world's foremost authority on enemas, Barton-Jay constantly receives requests from supplicants interested in getting cleaned out by the Master. But one recent applicant had matters other than enemas on his mind when he sought Barton-Jay's services.

"I knew there was something wrong with this guy from the beginning," says Barton-Jay . "He was extremely nervous , fidgety. I thought he was gonna rob me. I gave him a glass of wine to try and calm him down and the next thing I knew three other guys crashed into my apartment, arrested me, and ransacked the place."

Charged with the misdemeanor of agreeing to perform an act of fellatio (cocksucking to you and me) in exchange for $100, Barton-Jay was subsequently found innocent at his July 2 trial.

"The charge was absurd to begin with," according to Barton-Jay, "since I had never mentioned money or fellatio. Due to my fears of AIDS, I've been a strict practitioner of safe sex for the last three years, a fact that seemed to impress the judge very much."

But Barton-Jay's troubles did not end with his acquittal.

"When I got back home, I received the first in a series of threatening phone calls: 'You got away this time, faggot, but we'll get you the next time, you cocksucker."

The experience has left Barton-Jay shaken but undaunted . He plans on taking a working vacation to complete his next magnus opus—a tome on erotic spanking. Several major publishers have already

expressed an interest.

The real losers in this whole affair are those four cops. If anyone needed the shit cleaned out of them, those guys sure did.

—T.R. Witomski

"IT ALL STARTED … "

Recently, San Francisco writer and photographer Mark I. Chester (whose "Metamorphosis " appears in this issue) dropped by the Drummer offices and regaled us with tales of his SM fantasies and autoerotic experimentation starting when he was a teenager.

As you can imagine, Chester wasn't exaxtly the boy next door, and his kinks were already starting to bend at an early age. But he can hardly have been unique-or else this magazine wouldn't have the loyal readership it does throughout North America and Europe.

It started us thinking-especially when Chester suggested the idea of collecting first-person stories from Drummer readers about their earliest awareness of their interest in SM. (Writer Aaron Travis says that for him it was watching musclemen in bondage in Italian gladiator movies , when he was a kid with 22 DRUMMER nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon-not to mention the time his older brother tied him by the wrists standing spread-eagle in a barn and then left him that way. "It was scary," says Travis, "but I felt just like Steve Reeves.'

So what are your memories of your first, uniquely personal attractions and reactions to the world of SM? What were your dreams then, and your first tentative self-explorations ? C'mon-don't be afraid to spill the beans to Daddy …

Send your story (typed, if possible) to: Report, Drummer Magazine, 640 Natoma St., San Francisco, CA 94103. We want to hear from vou!

IN MINNEAPOLIS: WITCHCRAFT & STUFF

From the mystic Rev. Paul, a Drummer reader in Minnea-polis , this invitation:

"Would appreciate mention of a new leather / motorcycle club being started here in Minneapolis, oriented to those who are not only into SM, bikes, bondage & stuff, but who are also into Paganism . Witchcraft & Magick. Called the Black Riders, we will be sponsoring an annual run called WOW (Witches on

Wheels). Anyone interested can contact me in care of: The Black Riders, PO Box 80053, Minneapolis, Minnesota 55408.

MARINES: HIGH & TIGHT NO MORE

What a blow to Marine morale and prestige-not to mention to those of us who like the look of a uniformed man with no more than a fringe of stubble across his scalp…

Yes, it's true-according to The New York Time, the Marine Corps brass is urging guards at US installations overseas to forego the shears and get rid of their trademark 'high and tight" haircut. The reason: off-duty Marines with the close crop are obvious targets for foreign terrorists.

Liet. Col. John N. Shotwell, a Corps spokesman, stated that the precaution was being urged worldwide in response to the June killing of four off-duty Marines at a sidewalk cafe in San Salvador.

The "high and tight" haircut , a crewcut far more severe than the neat trim required by military regulations, has long been a badge of pride, especially among elite Marine units like the security guards.

"It presents a very military appearance in uniform," said Colonel Shotwell, "but it also presents a very conspicuous appearance out of uniform."

Since the San Salvador episode , Colonel Shotwell said, there have been widespread rumors in the guard ranks that Marines were being encouraged to wear wigs and false moustaches off duty. That, he said, "is not true at all."

Though the directive took effect immediately, Colonel Shotwell acknowledged that "it's going to take the hair a little while to grow on those who do have the shaved-head look."

(Thanks to writer Robert Boucheron for forwarding this item to Report.)

SUBMIT!

The Report section is our effort to keep Drummer readers informed about what's going on with leathermen in the US, Canada, Europe, Australia, and elsewhere.

Have you got an event or inside information we should know about? Send press releases , announcement, photos , etc.—as early as possible— to: Report. Drummer, 640 Natoma Street, San Francisco, CA 94103

department

MALECALL

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p. 24 · 4 pp · scans: 24, 25, 26, 27

MALECALL

WHAT HAVE WE STARTED?

The "Dynasty" take-off by Robert Payne in Drummer 83 was great-homosexy and funny at the same time. I admit, without shame, that I watch "Dynasty " (as well as "Dallas" and "Falcon Crest"), and I found Payne's repartee delightfully familiar, as well as very humorous.

While I may not be in Payne's league in this regard, I'm working on it …

Scenario 1: A truckstop outside Atlanta—groping and crusing by truckers during "Dynasty"—a muscular young trucker sighs over James Brolin in the "Hotel" opening credits as he lies on the truckstop floor, being royally fucked by one trucker and sucking another one.

Scenario II: A ripe, muscular slave is tied, gagged and blindfolded by his Master, who sits near the bed viewing his handiwork. The Master turns on the TV, just in time to catch the opening credits of "Dynasty." At the sound of Bill Conti's theme music, the slave gets an intense charge of lust, suffusing his body with ardor and homosex enthusiasm. The Master watches his slave twist and squirm within his bonds, making unintelligible sounds and pleading, and feeling his hard dick slap against his smooth belly as the music climaxes (!) with trumpet solo accompanying Joan Collins' credit… Can you guess what happens next?

I'll bet scenes like this (among others-God knows what straight couples are doing!) take place every Wednesday night when "Dynasty" is aired. My imagination is already running to what the British, French, Italians, South Africans and Swedes might be doing while "Dynasty" is being shown in their countries. it's fascinating to think how decadent American TV trash is affecting the hormones of gay men the world over …

FI Texas

YOUNG WARRIORS

I want to thank you for the photo of Australian actor Terry Serio on page 17 of Drummer 83.

In Louisville, Drummer and all gay and "adult" mags are encased in plastic jackets on the bookstore shelves-there's no chance of investigating the contents before purchase. One can only conjecture, and then take a chance. I speak for a minority within a minority perhaps-but for that reason I think it important to address you. Others like me maybe don't bother to investigate Drummer. I can tell you my reaction in the belief that I represent thousands who are untouched by the current gay photo scene.

I found Serio to be the only really stimulating model in your recent issue. I believe that if you more often had young men like this, set in scenes of combat, wrestling, or extreme tension or duress, you would find a remarkable response.

What we need but completely lack in gay publishing, it seems, is consistent attention to male beauty and male struggle in combination. What we get, instead, usually, are endless magazines picturing ripe young men in scenes of repetitive, weak and unimaginative sex-and other publications (much rarer) that portray, all too frequently, older-looking, mustached, or decadent-looking men in highly artificial scenes of torture (seldom, with all the shiny equipment, does it look like the real thing; and seldom do the models convey genuine pain or fury-never mind the exhibition of godlike youth in a state of dynamic struggle for dominance).

Can't you try it just once (maybe you have, but I'm simply unaware)? Pose good-looking, non-clone young men in fight or desperate survival scenes-no beards, balding, or greying, or obtrusive mustaches this time around-and make them look as if they meant it. Accessories like lassos, weapons, or other equipment might easily augment such masterpieces -but not if they suggest a lot of supercivilized, self-indulgent weaklings merely play-acting in their penthouse equipment room.

Take your photo-story "Dynasty" for instance, also in issue 83. A good beginning, surely, because it's about time there was a consistently developed

CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: Aaron Travis, Larry Townsend PHOTOGRAPHERS: Mark I. Chester, Close-Up, Roy Dean, Patrick Nunn, Robert Pruzan, Rink, Zeus ARTISTS: Harry Bush, Cavelo, The Hun, Jim Keene, Charles

DRUMMER, DRUMSTICKS, DEAR SIR, DRUM, TOUGH CUSTO-MERS , DRUMMEDIA, LEATHER NOTEBOOK, GETTING OFF and IN PASSING are copyrighted names of departments appearing in Drummer. Copyright © 1985 by Alternate Publishing.

Copyright # 1985 by ALTERNATE PUBLISHING. All rights reserved. No part of this magazine may be reproduced without prior written permission from the publisher Published monthly by Alternate Publishing, 540 Natoma Street, San Francisco, California 94103. A stamped, self-addressed return envelope must accompany all stampen, sei-aducesse recurri envelope must accompany air manuscripts, photographs and artwork that are to be returned. Alternate Publishing can assume no responsibility for material damaged or lost through the mail. An concerning the Leather Fraternity should be addressed to Alternate Publishing at the above stated address.

story pictorialized, with building tension and climaxes. Try it again—with GQ-type young models-with the likes of Terry Serio, say, and make it one of serious, no-holds -barred fury of combat (whether beginning in karate, wrestling, dueling of one kind or another, lassoing-or how about the classical retiarius stalking his gladiatorial prey?)-and I believe you will have a logical progress from weakness to strength, from fantasy to the most suggestive maleness triumphant.

G.B. Louisville, KY

INDEX FINGER

The new Mr. Drummer for 1985, Steve Reiswig of Seattle, is one hell of a man! Big, blond, muscular and bearded-all this and a brain, too! (As proved by his winner's statement on page 15- eloquent words about the deeper meaning of the leather lifestyle, as well as a compassionate awareness of our brothers who are suffering.)

In the same issue (Drummer 85), I was also impressed by your ten-year "Fiction / Fetish" indexes. Yes, I'm one of those readers who's "pestered" you over the years about when and what you've published of special interest to me, usually when trying to decide what back issues to buy. My favorite fetish is bondage, and sure enough, you've got dozens of en-tries , going back to issue 24. Most of them I have by now, and those I don't I'll soon be collecting. A great idea. It's pretty amazing, how much ground Drummer has covered in ten years.

RMN San Diego, CA

TO THE BRIM

Just got my copy of Drummer 84, and want to tell you guys how much I got off on "The Emema: As an Art Form" by Jason Bleu-photos of Chris Burns (one of my favorite porn stars) getting filled to the brim, and a hot text, too!

Tex Ft. Lauderdale, FL

EASY RYDAR

I have been reading Drummer since it was first available on magazine stands in this area many years back.

You have featured many interesting articles and photos in the magazine over the years—but the cover of Drummer 84 is a story all by itself. You have outdone yourself this time. Your coverman Rydar Hanson (Mr. Southern California Drummer) is one of the most handsome men shown in your pages in recent issues. This Teutonic god would without question be worthy of worship!

There is mention in the magazine that Rydar Hanson had been featured in films (and videos?) and I would like to learn more about this. Can you give me some titles, and where they might be available.

Perhaps we can look forward to seeing

Mr. Hanson in future issues of Drummer. I certainly hope so!

Madison, WI (Editor's note: We had already featured Rydar Hanson in Drummer before he won the Mr. Southern California title, in our photo spread in issue 78 on the erotic video Chain Reactions. (Both the video and a photo-magazine of stills are available from The Source-see the catalogue supplement in this issue.) And there were several shots of Rydar in last issue's coverage of the Mr. Drummer Finals, as well as in issue 84's report on the regional contests-including that cover shot that's got you hot and bothered.

Some of Hanson's other video appearances—with more undoubtedly on the way-include Head Trips, in which he's matched up with superstar Al Parker, and Faces, in which Hanson and blond muscleman Rex have sizzling public sex surrounded by a crowd of horny voyeurs. (Both videos are from Surge Studios, available from LeSalon.)

So far Hanson hasn't had a speaking role in any of his films, but his opening statement at the Mr. Drummer Finals was delivered in a distinctive and very sexy German accent.)

personals

DRUMMER DADDIES

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p. 28 · 4 pp · scans: 28, 29, 30, 31

Raunchy feet, potent cigars—the kid just can't get enough.

DRIMINE

A CRAVING FOR RAUNCHY FEET

Dear Son,

Your letter arrived today and I must say that I was troubled and deeply shocked by it.

I never imagined that you harbored those kinds of fantasies about me. I always knew that we had a good relationship and that there were some special bonds of friendship that most boys never come to share with their dads. But the kinds of things you wrote to me about were things that go beyond the normal father-son relationship. And as much as some of those things excited me and had me longing for the days when we were together, I couldn't help feeling that maybe we had gone too far.

When I finished reading the letter, I thought about the things we used to do together, and I realized that what was merely a fun thing at the time for me had greater meaning for you.

I know that there are many fathers who don't even discuss sex with their sons, I could never have been that kind of father. But I also wanted you to learn first-hand about how beautiful sex could be. And so. I took it on myself to do some of the instructing. I never imagined that you wouldn't go on from there, that you would remain forever fixated on those moments when I first showed you what it was to be a man.

I guess I should have realized that we were taking things far beyond the normal or usual, and that what seemed to be mere curiosity on your part was something far more. I should have noticed the signs…l can remember the morning when I woke to find your mouth licking my sweaty feet as they stuck out from the covers at the foot of the bed. I thought it was cute at the time…

But now I realize that it was 28 DRUMMER more than that. I remember how you used to love to polish my shoes for me and ask me why my feet sweated so much. Your letter answered that question and more. All the while I thought you were acting out of curiosity, you were learning to worship my feet and the smells that came from a long hard day inside my work boots.

I get hard thinking about that now. Every time I take my still smelly boots off and breathe in all that foot stink, I think of your face planted under my toes. I wanted you to know what a manly smell was. I never imagined that you would grow up to love that smell and try to find it again wherever you could. You said in your letter that you would always be a slave to your Dad and that every man you ever went with was a shadow of the real father who is now hundreds of miles away. The thought of you following men around and offering your body to them fills me with disgust . I had intended for you to know only one man's body. And that one is my own. I had assumed that the blood-tie between us would make the special kind of love we shared all right. But when you tell me that you like having older men tie you up and whip your ass, I can't help thinking that punishing my son is something that is my right and mine alone.

Son, I don't know if any of this is making sense or not. I'm trying not to be too emotional or too hard on you. I know that it might not be your fault. I'm just trying to make sense of some of the things you've told me in your letter.

You said that you want to be dominated by older men, and I almost think that I can understand that. In my generation, you had to look up to your father and you had to do whatever he said, no matter how wrong it may have seemed at the time. My own father was the kind of man who hit first and asked questions later. I know that I inflicted plenty of punishments on you. Some of them you deserved and others may just have been because there was no one else around for me to vent my anger on.

I can almost understand how you came to equate punishment with sexuality. I remember the time I had first caught you jerking off and I spanked your ass sore after I had tied your hands together. I left you lying naked like that to teach you a lesson. But when you started begging me to let you play with my dick instead. Het you do it because I thought that giving you some little pleasure would soften my guilt at having treated you so bad.

I never imagined that you would end up begging strangers to shove their dicks in your mouth. And I never dreamed that you'd be asking me to let you come home again. Our last time together was a nightmare, not so much because of some of the things I said and did to you, but because I realize now how much I enjoyed it and how much you enjoyed it too.

I guess I was a bit relieved the first time you had told me that you would be going to a college far away from home. I must have sensed that our relationship went beyond the normal. Your occasional trips back home were something I looked forward to with more than just the usual excitement. But in back of my mind was the fear that there was someting wrong with the way I reacted to the thought of having you home. Then, like now, my cock swells up as I think of watching you amble through the front door. Your lean, hard swimmer's body excites me in ways that no father should be excited by his own son.

Maybe that's why I was so angered when I saw the beard and moustache you had grown in the few months since I had seen you last. It reminded me that my little boy was now a man and that when we rubbed our naked bodies together, it wasn't just a dad teaching his son about the kinds of things he would someday experience for himself . It was so much more. You should have warned me that there was a change, not just in body, but in mind. From that point onward, everything you did seemed to bring up emotions in me that were better left buried.

You reminded me that I was getting old. I wanted you to still love my body the way you loved it when you were just sprouting hairs between your legs. But I thought about all the young bodies you would get to see in the gym. And I thought about what would happen if you told some of your friends about how you came to know so much about sex. I know it was wrong of me to punish you for my own hang-ups. But you were there. And you took the punishment so well. I just couldn't stop. And I don't think I could if you were in front of me right now. I felt so bad about it when you left. And knowing that you en-joved every bizarre minute doesn't make it any easier to think about.

Why did you grow that damn beard? And why did you have to press your body so close into mine when you hugged me? I felt the hardness of your cock against my own and knew that inside those tight grungy jeans was a dick that matched mine, inch for inch. I wanted to pull my prick out and give it to you to suck on right then and there. You seemed to want it too. I remember how you let your hand slip onto my butt just before you began to caress my ass cheeks. I had been working in the basement and you told me how great my sweaty body smelled.

Then you reached into my sweat-stained shirt and started to rub your hand across my hairy chest. I remembered all those agonizing years you had waited to sprout hair on your chest so that you could look just like your Dad. I never told you that I was glad that your body remained smooth and

almost hairless, just like a little boy's. Your hand grazed my nipple and I could feel the mound of flesh get harder as I thought about all those hours you had spent sucking on my tits. I told you then that it was good practice for when you'd do it with a woman. I know now that you'll never do it with a woman. And that knowledge hurts. But not as much as the thought of you doing it with strangers hurts. I once told you that those nipples were yours; that you had earned them after all the long hours you had spent sucking on them. I can almost feel your mouth on them now. Just thinking about it makes them swell up. And yes, son, even as I write to you, my hand keeps going back to my crotch as I think about that day together.

You threw your knapsack down and followed me into the bathroom. I wanted to change clothes and shower before we sat down and discussed plans for the rest of the holiday. The fact that you followed me into the bathroom didn't surprise me any. We had never been shy with each other. You said you wanted to help me off with my clothing. Maybe I should have protested . But you smiled as you asked my permission. How could I resist?

First you took my sweaty shirt off. I expected you to be offended by the heavy funk that had collected in the underarms after hours of hard work. But instead you held each stinking sleeve up to your nose and breathed in deeply. Then you shoved the rank fabric into your mouth and began sucking smelly juices .

I was shocked all right. But I was also turned on. It had been a long time since I had had sex with anyone. And although I was repulsed, I couldn't control the fact that I was getting hard under my equally smelly jock.

Before I could say anything, you had thrown the shirt on the floor and had moved over to me. Your hand reached out toward my crotch and with one quick movement you had undone the zipper on my work pants. They dropped down to the floor and came to rest around my grungy boots. I thought you were bending 30 DRUMMER down to pick them up. But when you stopped in front of my bulging jock, I knew that your mouth was eager for more raunch.

You begged for me to feed you my dick through that smelly jock. You said that you wanted to taste my uncut prick through all that dried cum and piss. The tip of the jock was wet from where my dick had begun spilling out its precum juices. I grabbed a handful of your long blond hair and pushed your face into my crotch. You gagged as all the stale juices filled your mouth. Before I knew what was happening , I shot a load of cum right through the jock and into your waiting mouth. You swallowed up every last drop before you let go of the now wet pouch. Then you thanked me for letting you have it.

I don't know what happened at that point. Something inside of me snapped as I saw a trickle of hot cum dribble from your lips. I smacked you hard, almost throwing your head up against the tile wall. Tears welled up in your eyes and you asked what you had done to deserve to be treated so badly by your dad. I grabbed the back of your head again and hauled you over to the full-length mirror. I pushed your face into the cold glass and asked you why you had grown a beard without my permission. You mumbled some answer, but I was too angry to even hear it. I pushed you back up on your feet and told you to shave it off immediately . But before I handed you the shaving cream and towel, I did something that I hadn't done to you in years.

The last time I had spanked you was when you were about ten years old. You deserved it then. You had borrowed my cuff links without my permission . I remembered that, as I pulled your jeans down over your smooth, hairless butt. You started crying. But your tears and pleadings only made me want to beat your ass all the more. I watched your long fat dick jump up and down as I stripped off your briefs. I remembered how you had always wanted a thick overhang of foreskin just like your dad's. Instead, you had to be content with playing with mine.

Once I had stripped you bare I dragged you over to the toilet where you seemed to belong. I sat you down on the crapper and pulled my wet jock off. Then I stuffed it in your mouth to drown out your whimpering. Your balls were hanging so temptingly under your huge cock. I grabbed those nuts and yanked on them until I could see tears well up in your eyes. With my fist still gripping your heavy sac, I pushed your body over my powerful legs. Your dick came to rest on my thick-soled boots. A long stream of pre-cum dripped across the well-oiled leather. I knew that sooner or later I would make you lick it up. But at that moment , I had other plans for you. With your lanky body draped across my knees, I began slapping your ass, not too hard at first, but with increasing pressure as my anger grew.

I watched your ass turn red as blow after blow reverberated through the tiny white-tiled room. Your dick jumped with each blow, and more and more precum stained my boots. I picked up some the juice and rubbed it into your sweaty hole. Then I continued to spank my son harder and harder until my arm began to hurt as much as your reddened butt.

When I had finished tanning your little boy's ass, I pushed you off of me. You could barely stand up. Your whole body was shaking. Instead of comforting you, I reached over for the towel and slapped it against your already tortured butt. Then I threw it at you along with the razor and shave cream. I ordered you to shave your face hair off. And just to make you know who was the daddy and who was the little boy, I also ordered you to shave your crotch hairless.

You pleaded with me and begged me not to make you do it. You said that all the guys on the swim team would laugh at you. I told you that you deserved to be humiliated, and that if you didn't do as you were told I would make you shave your head as well. Then I stormed out of the room, leaving you to follow orders or face even greater punishments .

I don't remember exactly what went through my mind as I lay in bed waiting for you to complete your task. I know that even after dropping one load, my dick was still ready to give up more juice. I guess that I just concentrated on the cans of beer I was guzzling and the cigar I had started chomping on. I know how you had always hated my cigar smoke. And I also knew that watching me down can after can of beer always disturbed you. But I wasn't going to let any wet-eared college punk lord it over his old man. I just lay there, with my still filthy boots staining the bedspread as I waited for you to finish your tasks. When you finally entered the room bare-assed, I was relieved to see that you had followed orders to a T.

There wasn't a wisp of hair left on you from the neck down. You had even shaved your armpits without being instructed to do so. You asked me to forgive you for being such a bad son, and I almost gave in. I wanted to hug you and tell you how much I really loved you. But I was getting drunk by then, and more drunk with power than with beer.

I yanked your head up and pointed to the gob of dick juice that stained my already grimy work boots. I told you to plant your mouth on those boots and start cleaning them off like the good little slaveboy that you were. You obeyed, I could feel your tongue sucking on every inch of polished leather. When you had finished cleaning up your pre-cum from one boot, I pushed your head onto the other one and made you clean it as well.

I blew stale cigar smoke at you as you lapped up all the boot crud that days of working in the damp basement had formed. I humiliated you verbally as I told you what a low, common bootlicker you were. Then I made you pull off my wet boots and shove your nose inside to breathe all my foot stink. With my sweat-socked foot, I rubbed your extra-long cock. I wanted to suck on it as well, just couldn't tell you that. Instead, I made you pull off my stinking socks with your teeth before I gave you my bare foot to suck and worship. You always were partial to your dad's bare feet. But as I watched you lick the toes,

then the heels, before you buried all five toes in your mouth, I knew that my boy had done some practicing with other men since the times when I had discovered him planted at the foot of my bed.

Without being told to do it, you worked your tongue up my leg and into my manly crotch. I could smell the stale odors there and wondered what it was about those rank smells that made you want to lick up every inch of skin. But with your mouth planted on my oversized balls, I wasn't going to question why it is that you worship your dad's funky body.

As you worked my prick into your mouth, I started thinking about the time I had shown you how to piss like a man. I remember taking my dick out and showing you how to hold it before you let loose with a stream of piss into the bowl. My piss had splashed on the side of the bowl and you had reached out to let some of it wet your hand. I watched in fascination as you held it to your lips and tasted it. Later, you would always ask me to show you how to piss.

I never realized that you were born to be my slave. As you swallowed a second load of my cum, you begged me to let you shoot yours. I told you that I'd think about it. Even after you had licked out my raunchy armpits and cleaned the sweat out of my equally rank asshole, I wouldn't let you shoot your cum. Instead, I walked over to the closet and took out a length of rope that I had used to lash down tarpaulins . Only this time I lashed down my own son.

The harder you begged not to be tied up, the harder I tightened the ropes around your wrists and ankles. I turned you over face down on the bed and stuck your face into one of my stinking boots. I wrapped the laces around your head and, just to stifle your whinning, I slipped the leather boot tongue into your mouth. All you could breathe in was foot stink. Your dad's foot stink.

I pulled off your equally raunchy sneakers and wrapped one around your cock and balls. Your stiff prick almost touched the toe-end. I tied the sneaker around your waist. Then I stripped off your sweat socks and shoved as much of the sweaty cotton into your ass as I could.

I left you like that for several days, only allowing you to take trips to the bathroom now and then, and only sporadically giving you food. Whenever I felt like it, I would take off my leather belt and run it hard across your already sore butt. Every time I had to use the bathroom, I would loosen your bonds and make you lie down in front of me as I sat on the crapper. I'd make you suck me off as I sat shitting. When I was finished, I made you flush the toilet and clean it up afterwards . You had to ask me for every favor and more often stand. I don't know why I have a need to treat my boy with the kind of contempt and indifference that would have made me want to kill my old man. And I certainly don't know why you don't feel that way about me after everything that went on weeks ago. But I do know that the thought of you giving yourself to other men the way you gave yourself to me fills me with more than just anger.

You say that you want to be my little boy forever and that you want your dad to whip you into the kind of slave you always though you deserved to be. I guess that now, as the shock of that realization has worn off, and the excitement come back here to live with me.

I can't guarantee that it will be the kind of life you really want. I'll keep your body cleanshaven, just like it was when I first started showing you what manhood was all about. I'll try to be more loving . But I also know that I'll punish you for any little offense that I think warrants action on my part. You'll spend lots of time being tied up. And your mouth will be sore from all the times it will be filled with my dick. And that goes for your ass too. I'll expect you to keep my boots polished and spit-shined. When I come home you'll have to undress me and lick off all the hard-earned sweat that I know you love to taste. It will seem like a living nightmare to you some of the time. But at least you'll have the satisfaction of knowing that you're one little boy who can make his dad happy in ways that most little boys never dreamed of.

So, if you're ready to serve your dad like you said you are, you can start now by writing me a long letter telling me exactly what you'll do to deserve being called a "daddy's boy." And at the end, instead of sending kisses, you can send a wad of your dried cum. That'll be the best damn valentine any father ever had from his son. Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll send you some of mine. Either that, or I'll save it for when your mouth is available to swallow every creamy drop. Now, go to your bed like a good little boy. Keep that hand of yours from your prick until you're ready to send me a sample of your load at the end of a long letter. And just think about all those years left when I'll be able to tuck you into bed with a thick length of rope.

Until then, sweet dreams. -(Forwarded by Michael Agreve) watched your ass turn red as blow after blow reverberated through the tiny white-tiled room. Your dick jumped with each blow, and more and more precum stained my boots. I picked up some of the juice and rubbed it into your sweaty hole. than not I would deny it to you. I lay awake at night dreaming up new ways to turn you into the kind of slave that any dad would be proud to have. I heaped abuse on you and punished you if you begged me to stop.

By the time your short vacation was over, you had tasted every inch of me a hundred times over. And I hadn't even let you cum one single time. As you said good-bye to me, I thought for sure that I would never see you again. And now you say that you enjoyed every minute of it, and that you want to spend the rest of your life repeating every moment of our scene together.

Son, I don't claim to understand human nature, or want to understand it. I just know that what we did the last time you were here and all those times before was something that few people could under- of our last time together comes back to me, I start to think that maybe that's what I want, too. I said earlier that I never realized that you had all those fantasies about me. Well, I guess I didn't want to face the fact that I had similar fantasies about you.

You said that you were proud to be humiliated by your friends who laughed at your little boy's crotch. You told them that your dad made you shave your hair off when he found out that you were fucking around. As I reread your letter, I can feel my cum churning in my balls, waiting to hear more from you and waiting for our next vacation together. I don't want you to rush home like you said you wanted to do. I want you to stay in school until you finish. Then, if you still feel the same way about our relationship, I'd be more than glad to have you

Do you have a Daddy / son story to tell? don't just sit there jerking off-get off your ass and write it out (or better yet, type it and save us the eyestrain ). You'll get off when you see your story in print—and so will a lot of other Daddies and sons! Send to: Drummer Daddies , 640 Natoma Street, San Francisco, CA 94103.

DRUMMER 31

department

DRUMSTICKS

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p. 32 · 1 pp · scans: 32

Begging For Time

Just one more night, Give me just one more night. I addressed you properly. I knelt correctly. In the bar, by your friends, passive, I was used. Mouth opened wide, I laid in the bathtub. Just give me one more night. I know I whimpered the entire night when they shaved me. You exacting standards… I need more time. Just one more night. Give me one more night. Don't let me go, Master.

-Auggie Camelli

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SAVAGE FICTION SECTION: THE DRUMMER MENAGERIE

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p. 33 · 5 pp · scans: 33, 34, 35, 36, 37

SME FFINE SERVICE MARENE THE 111111111111111111111111111111111111111 15 by Halde Compton

hill is a good-looking guy with a bushy black beard and dark curly hair. He's built solid too, with a weight-lifter's body, and he makes good money. He's a welder at the shipyard, and nobody gives him any shit, even though everyone knows he likes his sex on the wild side.

He has a nice thick piece of meat between his legs and a pair of nuts that can pump out juice as fast as you can swallow and as often as you want it-if you know how to get him interested. I don't mean to brag, but I can get his load any time I want it—but that's another story, and I'm not about to let anybody in on my secret.

I will tell you another great way to get some of that big fat dick of his, however, and if you have the skill, go for it. He told me this tale himself one time when I was sucking lint out of his bellybutton after draining his nuts. We had just finished some wild stuff and he started talking about the kinky side of his nature. After what we had just finished with, I guess he didn't think I was likely to find fault with anything.

"How did you get started in the kinky stuff?" I asked. I had finished the project on his bellybutton and wanted just a little more time on his cock before calling it a night.

"It was when I moved to town about two or three years ago," Phil said. "I was 22, just been honorably discharged from a hitch in the Marines. Right away I noticed this guy in the apartment next door. Older than me, maybe 35 or 36; and he had a foreign look-like maybe he was Gypsy or something.

"His hair was black and shiny and he wore it kind of long. He liked black clothes a lot-black boots and pants, black muscle shirts and jackets. That day all he had on was a black bikini bathing suit that showed a fantastic box with two big, hot- looking balls—nuts turn me on…

I had managed to force both of his inside my mouth and nodded a little to let him know I was listening. He took a fistful of my hair and pulled my face up tight against the base of his cock, then spread the cheeks of his ass with his hands, giving me a gentle hint.

Anyway, I followed this Gypsy guy down to the swimming pool the first day I moved in," Phil continued. "I wanted to get a closer look at those nuts.

"I said 'hi' to the guy and spread my towel out where I could check out that box. He nodded at me, giving me the once-over, just like I was looking at him. I had on a nylon suit that fit tight, and every vein and wrinkle of my dick showed right through the cloth. I don't wear that suit much in public, but I put it on specially to go out and meet Carlo-that's the guy's name.

"Carlo's eyes flicked over my body pretty fast, taking it all in, but when he saw the bulge between my legs, I noticed his eyes stopped long enough to check me out there twice as long as he looked at the rest of me."

Phil went on talking as I worked my tongue slowly down his cockroot towards his asshole. Now, everytime I get a good whiff of manhole, it seems like that story comes back to me…

Carlo, Phil said, was a handsome stud in an exotic way. He had darkly tanned olive skin, full lips, and heavy eyebrows that gave his face a sort of mean look, like he throught you were shit and you'd have to work pretty hard to convince him otherwise. He looked at Phil like he was daring the young man to have the guts to look back. It was the kind of look that made Phil's dick tingle and his asshole pull up tight at the same time.

Phil felt his pecker give a little start, which was a signal that it was about to throw a hard, just from the way Carlo was looking at him; so he just nodded back at the man and jumped in the water and swam a couple of laps to cool his pecker off.

After a few minutes, Phil climbed out of the water and went back over to the deck chair where Carlo was stretched out in the sun. He moved his towel over next to the man and lay down on hs stomach to try and get him into a conversation. Phil lay face-down just in case his frisky dick decided to go into action again.

"You been living here long?" Phil asked, to have something to sav.

Carlo turned his head toward the younger man and opened 34 DRUMMER his eyes.

"No, not very long," he answered. "Why is your hair cut so short? Was it your choice?"

The man had a slight accent that Phil couldn't place. "Sort of," Phil said. "I just got out of the Marines."

"Are you growing a beard?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Sir?" Carlo said, and smiled. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

Phil decided not to lie and say his was older, hoping maybe Carlo liked young studs.

"Why did you call me 'Sir'? Is it just a habit from the

Marines?"

"No, Sir. It was to show you respect—Sir."

"Did you learn that in the Marines—to show a man respect?"

"Did you learn to take orders, too?"

"Sure did, Sir."

"That's good. I like that," Carlo said. He smiled at Phil again, but the smile had a funny look to it, like he was thinking of something other that what he had just said, and his syes seemed strange-midnight black and shining with tiny points of light in the very center of each pupil. For an instant, looking into them gave Phil a sense of falling.

"You sure are good-looking," Phil said. He had no idea why he blurted out the remark—the guy would think he was some kind of silly queen. His heart started pounding all of a sudden, and underneath him his dick was swelling and pressing hard against the concrete. Shit! What if the guy was straight and got pissed off at him?

'You forgot, kid," Carlo said. His lips still smiled, and the tiny points of light came back into his eyes. Phil felt the sensation of falling again, and a touch of vertigo.

"Forgot what?" "To show respect."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Phil said, and laughed.

"I didn't make a joke," Carlo said in a flat voice. "So what are you laughing at?"

He swung one leg off the deck chair and kicked Phil in the butt. Carlo didn't smile, and the kick wasn't meant as a joke, although it didn't seem to mean anger either. The kick was hard enough, however, to make the muscle of Phil's butt ache-and when Phil felt the impact, something strange happened to him. His cock gave him a sudden flash of pleasure and he tightened the cheeks of his ass. The movement pressed his hard dick against the concrete.

"Knock that off!" Carlo said, and kicked the young man's butt again.

Phil didn't have to ask what Carlo meant. He knew, and relaxed his butt. He felt the strange sensation in his stomach again, and recognized it as the same feeling he had had as a kid when he knew he was about to get sucked off for the first time. He had a full bone now. It throbbed against the hard surface of the pool deck.

'You got any plans for tonight, Marine?" Carlo asked.

"Anything you want me to do, Sir," Philk said. He wasn't being cute or acting like a smart-ass when he said it. He really meant it. Whatever the man wanted, he would try to do.

"Come to my place after dinner—about nine," the man said.

"Yes, Sir. I'll be there."

Carlo looked straight into the young man's eyes again for a moment, and Phil had the strange feeling he could hear him saying something. He sort of understood what Carlo was saying, although not exactly. He nodded his head to say "yes," even though he didn't know what it was he had agreed to. Carlo smiled.

After the man left the pool, Phil took a swim to cool off, but his dick stayed hard for a long time in the water, and all the while he was swimming, he remembered Carlo's eyes looking deep inside him and talking to him in words he didn't hear, didn't comprehend, but somehow understood. Remembering kept the young man excited, even though he couldn't figure

out why.

Finally, when the hard-on went down enough to get out of the water, Phil went back to his apartment.

Carlo let the young man in right away when Phil knocked on his door later. The man was wearing a black velvet robe that hung to the floor and he was smoking a joint. He handed the pot to Phil as soon as the younger man was inside.

"Smoke this," he said.

"Yes, Sir," Phil said. He took the pot and dragged deep on it, then offered it back to the man. "No," Carlo said. "Smoke it all yourself." It was a command, not generosity.

"Yes, Sir," Phil said, and took another long drag. He figured, just as the first touch of the coming high hit him, that he was going to need the dope.

"Sit down, Blacky," Carlo said. He gestured toward a big black leather chair across the room.

"Yes, Sir," Phil said, heading to the chair, wondering why the man had called him Blacky. He had told him his name was Phil at the pool. He started to sit in the chair.

"Not in the chair, Blacky," Carlo said. "On the floor."

Phil sat down on the carpet next to the leather chair and looked up at the man.

Carlo let the robe drop to the floor. Underneath he was wearing leather briefs. Shiny chrome studs covered the bulge of his dick and balls under the black leather. Phil remembered that the man's stomach and legs had been hairy earlier at the pool, but now they were shaved smooth and glistened with oil. He smelled rich, like spice and something else that reminded Phil of sex.

The man ran both hands down over the bulge of his pectoral muscles and then, as Phil licked his lips, down the insides of his thighs. The flesh beneath his fingers was hard and didn't give at all as he tucked his thumbs under the leather breifs and rubbed the nuts inside.

The sight of the near-naked man made Phil draw in his breath. He felt his cock rising in his pants.

Carlo walked over to him and stood with his hands cupping the crotch of the briefs. Phil could hear the silent words again. They buzzed in the back of his mind, just out of the reach of consciousness.

"Yes, Sir," he whispered, not knowing for sure the question he had been asked—only knowing the answer was yes. Somewhere inside his mind he understood. His heart was pounding and his dick pulsed in his pants.

"Lick my hand," Carlo commanded. He extended the fingers of one hand, keeping the thumb tucked inside the leather briefs.

"Yes, Sir," Phil said. He licked the fingers, then the palm of the man's hand.

Carlo stared steadily into the young man's eyes. Perhaps it was the way Carlo looked at him or maybe it was the way Phil felt in the pit of his stomach. It could have been the pot beginning to work its magic inside the boy's head, but he felt himself beginning to change. The dark hair on his body was getting longer, growing out thick and shaggy. Saliva dripped from the end of his tongue, which seemed also to grow longer. He kept licking at the man's hand.

"Down, Blacky," Carlo said. "No. Don't lick."

Phil drew back his head. Panting, he looked up at the man. He had become a dog. He did not know how, but he was a big black dog. He was Carlo's goddamn dog and that's what he wanted to be. The man's dark eyes stared into Phil's and the dog-boy whined and nuzzled the man's hand with his nose

"You look like an asshole, wearing those clothes," Carlo said.

"Take them off."

Phil pawed at his shirt and jeans, pulling at them with his teeth, popping the buttons, yanking and chewing until he was naked, then he tried to lick the man's hand again.

"Down, boy," Carlo said. "Get down.

The dog-boy sat down again on the floor on his haunches. "Roll over," the man said. "Lie on you back, boy."

Blacky rolled over. His legs were spread. His stiff cock thrust up from his hairy stomach. His nuts hung down heavy in their hairy sack over his asshole.

Carlo put a naked foot under the dog's nuts and lifted them with his toes, then he scratched the length of Blacky's cock with the foot and rubbed the hair on the dog-boy's stomach.

"Nasty goddamned dog," he said. "You've got a fucking hard-on.

Carlo picked up a newspaper from the chair and twisted it into a thick roll.

"Filthy, goddamned dog," he said, and swatted the head of Blacky's bobbing cock with the paper.

The dog-boy whimpered and rolled over onto his hands and knees.

The man swatted the dog-boy's ass with the papaer. The blow

"Roll over, Blacky," the man said.

The dog-boy whimpered and looked at him for a moment, then rolled over onto his back.

Carlo hit the dog again with the paper, right on the dick root where it disappeared inside his body at the rim of his asshole. The smack of the paper sent sparks of pleasure rushing all through the dog-boy's body. He whimpered and spread his legs further apart. Carlo swung the paper again and gave the rigid peter a solid smack.

"Filthy, fucking dog," he muttered.

The dog-boy's dick throbbed and burned with pleasure from the blows of the rolled-up newspaper. He started whining again, one long series of repeated sounds from this throat. He wanted the man to hit him some more, but Carlo stopped and tossed the paper aside. With his bare foot, he scratched the dog's crotch, sending waves of excitement through his gut as the man moved the dog-balls and cock around with the naked sole of his foot. Blacky continued to whimper, begging the man not to stop.

"I got to pee," Carlo said. "Come, boy. Come watch me pee.

He went to the bathroom and stood in front of the toilet. Blacky scampered after him and sat down next to the commode . Carlo pulled the briefs down over his butt with his thumbs and a big, dark olive-skinned cock arched out half-hard over the toilet bowl.

Blacky licked his lips and panted. Saliva dripped from the end of his tongue as he watched Carlo pull the full foreskin back off the swelling dickhead. Blacky licked his chops again and whined. He saw the amber stream spurt out and splash into the water. Blacky whined and looked up at his Master's face, but the man ignored him and scratched between his legs under his nuts. The yellow stream slowed and after several quick final spurts, was only a series of drips.

Blacky eyed the golden drops and his tongue hung loose, dripping saliva from the end. He whined again.

"What is it, boy?"

Carlo pulled the leather shorts all the way down and kicked them away, them spread his legs.

Does Blacky want to taste some piss?"

Blacky whined and licked his chops, gazing at the dark red head of the man's dick. A golden drop glistened on the pisshole.

"Does Blacky-boy want to put his tongue on his Master's dick? Huh, boy?"

The dog-boy squirmed on the tile floor. He stretched his neck toward the man's cock and extended his tongue to touch the hot, glistening drop of piss. The sharp acidic taste stung his tongue, and he whined as he ran his tongue quickly once over the whole fat head. The taste of piss was seasoned with a soft sweetness secreted from the base of the dickhead, protected until moments before under its foreskin shield.

The dog-boy licked again, harder and faster now.

"No!" the man said, after Blacky had licked the dick for a few seconds.

He pushed the dog-boy's head away. "Filthy damn dog. Go get the fucking paper. Fetch."

Blacky whimpered and ran back to the living room. He found the paper and brought it back in his mouth to the bathroom. "Roll over," Carlo comanded.

The dog-boy rolled onto his back on the cold tile floor.

The paper found its mark again, this time dead center on the dog-boy's asshole. Carlo hit him over and over again on the same spot.

At first the blows stung like craze. Then a buzzing pleasure moved slowly out from his ass and into his nuts, traveling along the length of his cock and rolling in hard spasms inside his guts. He whimpered and whined and twisted under the blows.

The dog-boy was close to coming, but he didn't dare to reach for his dick, as a man would. He rolled onto his side with the leg toward Carlo raised up in the air, so the man could continue hitting the dog-boy's ass. Blacky stretched his head and neck as far as he could toward his throbbing dick, bending his back and sticking out his tongue, trying in a madness-driven attempt to lick the head of his own peter.

He looked up at Carlo, begging with his eyes. Softly and clearly he heard the words again inside his mind, and he knew he could do it. The dog-boy turned back toward his throbbing dick.

The slick pink rod pulsed before the dog-boy's eyes and he tasted the tip with his tongue. Then he discovered he could do more than merely touch the dickhead. He wrapped a wet, slick fold of drooling dog-tongue around the thick shaft of his own cock. He reached with the long, slick tongue for his nuts and felt the hairy sac in his mouth. It was hot and and salty with sweat. The dog licked hard at his nuts, feeling the coarse hair inside his mouth.

He started licking his cock with long smooth strokes. It felt good. He was going to come. He licked harder and harder.

"No!" Carlo shouted at him. "Stop that, you filthy goddamed mutt! No!"

The man hit the dog-boy hard on the balls with the paper. Pain snapped through the dog-boy's groin, killing the orgasm, but he kept licking his cock anyway. He loved the smell and the taste in his mouth. It felt too good to stop. His dick felt hotter, more sensitive than it ever had before. Nothing had ever felt or tasted so good. He licked the hot head again and again. His tongue was slick and drooling.

Carlo slapped the dog-boy's head with the paper. "Stop it, goddamn it! I said no, you damned mutt!"

The voice, raised in command, broke through the crazy, sex-mad static in the dog-boy's mind. He slowed reluctantly and stopped licking his cock and balls. He whimpered and rolled over and stared up at the man, panting.

"Carlo's got something better for a dog to do tonight than lick his own joint."

The man shook the last few drops of piss from his swollen cock and Blacky followed him back into the living room.

Carlo stood over the dog-boy and ran his fingers into the thick black hair on his head.

"Carlo wants the dog to do a little fucking. How about that, dog? You want to fuck Carlo dog-style?"

The dog-boy squirmed on the floor in front of the man, whining and panting. Carlo got down on his hands and knees and spread the cheeks of his ass in front of the dog-boy.

"Fuck Carlo, boy. Put your big hard dog-dick in your Master's ass.'

Blacky mounted the man's back, holding himself steady by grasping the man's shoulders.

Carlo kept his ass spread and the dog-boy blindly guided the rock-hard dick up between the man's legs, knowing by instinct the place to put it without having to touch the throbbing shaft.

Carlo twisted his butt under the dog-boy and when he felt the head of the cock touch the sphincter of his asshole, he lowered his head to the floor, resting it on his upturned palms, leaving his ass up and ready for the cock to enter.

The dog-boy lunged with his hips and thrust the dick half- way inside the man's ass.

"Easy, goddamnit, Blacky!" Carlo said, but the dog-boy lunged again. The man belonged to him now. The dog-boy had him pinned, and dog or no dog, the man was impailed by the dick and he couldn't get away. "Please, Blacky…" the man whimpered. "Please be easy.

You're a damn big dog, man."

Blacky rammed the dick into him again, hard, and lodged root-deep inside.

"No, please, I…"

Carlo squirmed and tried to pull away, but his sphincter had tightened on the cockroot and he was hung on the fat dick inside his gut. The dog-boy squirmed on the man's ass, pushing deep with his cock. He thrust and squirmed against Carlo until the asshole loosened on its own accord, then the dog-boy started screwing like an animal made crazy by passion. He fucked the man with nothing in control but instinct. Carlo's own instincts would have to see him through if he were going to survive being screwed by the beast his dog-boy had become.

Blacky rammed and ground and pumped his cock into Carlo until the man's whimpers and whines began to sound as doglike as the sounds Blacky was making. After a few hard minutes of ramming, both men started to come. Both were howling

And that, friends, was how Phil got started with that kinky scene. He says he still gets off on it, and he and Carlo get together often.

They've gone futher with the fantasy since the first time too. Phil swears that he finally got to shoot off by licking his own cock. And he says that nothing-not even fucking dog-style-feels as good as licking your own meat. He says he understands now why you see dogs licking their peckers all the time.

Who knows? I may try it myself sometime-if I can find someone like Carlo to look deep into my eyes and show me how. П

DRUMMER 37

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Fly

start p.

by Don Perry

p. 38 · 4 pp · scans: 38, 39, 40, 41

Somewhere in rural Maine...

by Don Perry

Somewhere In Rural Maine

So many visions … of desire: The bony, clawlike hands hold the oversized penis. The testicles hang like a grotesquely stretched sack. Almost to the knees. "How pleased," the demon face grins, "Mencheno, the Prince, will be to receive this one! One like this! How Ciclap will gloat! How Gagellin will rejoice! … '

Has it come to this? Fantasies of large, unyieldly dildos shoved full-length up my voracious ass? Dreams of human gorillas raping my craving bowel? Fat, erotic men reducing me to babbling jelly with their huge dongs and outrageous expertise? Thrust assunder. Entering me…Making me scream for more. MORE! Deeper! Stretch me more. Thrust deeper! Ream me open! Wide open. Make me feel it! Don't stop! Keep thrusting! Oh!!!…Ripped open. Possessed. It fits! It all goes in! Sucked up in there. Somehow. Fills me utterly. Impossible. It's up in there. All of it. Thrusting! I take deep, deep breaths. God (excuse me), but it feels so …

Fletcher (nicknamed Fly) smirked, then frowned. Has it come to this, he mused? First, the hunger. The waiting. And now… screaming moods, and weird feelings. He chuckled to himself. Could a curious longing become such a raving, hellacious lust? Ah, well…Too many questions never get answered.

He was walking down the Main Street of the town. He saw some houses. A barber shop. A library. And a park. No stores yet. There weren't many people about at this hour. It was nine o'clock in the morning. A few men…

He examined the men carefully. They were a rugged looking bunch. No obvious pansies here. A telephone company truck passed by. The driver was dark, bearded, brooding. A sticker on the bumper said: Let A Telephone Man Put It In. A man came out of the barber shop. He was tall, square-jawed, intense. He stared at Fly for several seconds before moving on.

Out in the boonies…Fly smiled wryly. It wasn't funny any-more . The people weren't cold. Clannish, yes. Cliquish. Suspicious of strangers. Often cruel with their gossip. But there was an underlying warmth too. A depth of the soul the more remarkable for its lack of surface. Fly shivered uncomfortably. There was more here than met the eye. And plenty for the eye…

A youngish man in flimsy jogging shorts flew by. Fly feasted on his backside. Now there was an ass you could get lost in. And all muscle. A beautiful, blond, bare-chested boy came out onto the porch of the house. A golden god. Slimly built. Sharply etched pecs. Washboard belly. A startling, lush growth of black pubic hair extended up to and around his navel. Fly's tight asshole twanged. And he was jolted by the reaction.

Another jogger. Jesus! The craze was everywhere. Big, hairy, bouncing tits. Thick, flexing legs. Pumping. Pumping. What was it he liked most about sex? Stamina? Ummm! And over there …long, silky hair curling up and over a tight-necked t-shirt. Modest virility. Small-town men…

Fly was standing at the corner of an intersection. The park was behind him. His skin felt numb and prickly. He stared at the passing parade of men. His body throbbed. He was impressed. And horny. The short hairs on the back of his neck were erect. They weren't alone.

Fly turned suddenly. There was an older man sitting on a park bench a few feet away. Grinning at him. The man was slim and solidly packed. He wore faded jeans and a tight t-shirt. His face was sharply sculptured. And handsome. Nordic. His hands were stroking his legs above the knee. Fly ambled towards him…drawn.

"Uh, excuse me…" "New in town?"

Fly laughed. And felt immediately foolish. "Uh, no. Well, not exactly." He was stammering. He couldn't help it. This man's eyes seemed to bore right into his very soul. To read his mind. He knew. "This is quite a town," he managed. "Very pretty."

"Very…moving. You might say."

"Well, yes. The parts of it that move." He laughed again, and had to tear his eyes away from the man's. His knees were shaking. He felt weak and light-headed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man looking him over. Eating him with his eyes was more like it. "You live here?" he fumbled again, wanting to maintain contact.

'Uh, no. Well, not exactly," the man mimicked. "Come over here and sit down."

Don Perry's "Cockwalk" appeared in Drummer 83 and 84. Readers of that story will recognize the Old Man, who appears in this episode of "Fly," as well as the Old Man's buddy Virgil, who can't be far behind…

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Jason, Cat

start p.

by David May

p. 42 · 9 pp · scans: 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50

How coudl Bernie want to break him?

ou can't tame a cat.

But you couldn't explain anything to Bernie either. He thought that he knew everything. He always had dogs, too, and in a way that explains why Bernie wanted Jason in the first place: Jason was a cat and Bernie wanted to tame him.

I knew at once, knew that Jason wasn't quite human but something more than human. And as I've loved cats my whole life, have almost worshipped them at times, I also loved—and did worship-Jason..

When I first saw him he was lying on Bernie's floor, naked. His body was stretched out in the sunlight coming in from the window. His skin was pale, but darkly so; the body lean, neatly muscled; his black hair was tossled about like a disobedient child's. He hadn't shaved yet that morning, and the angles of his face were accentuated by a dark stubble. His chest, stomach, butt and forearms were covered with soft black hair-fur. His face was handsome, the nose straight, the chin stronger than most. He was nothing less than beautiful.

His eyes were closed as I admired him and he looked as if he were asleep, though I'd never be able to say for certain that he wasn't watching me the whole time.

Bernie had been my first Master and felt a certain amount of responsibility for having brought me out into the scene. He called me periodically and asked how I was, who I was playing with (and if he disapproved he said so) and would suggest we get together for a meal "and talk." He was always a friend to me and very understanding. After a while he introduced me to his new slaves and started teaching me to top by sharing them with me. (I don't think he was this generous with everyone; I was special only because he'd brought me out and that meant something to him.)

When I'd come to see him that morning , he motioned for me not to talk and nodded towards Jason, who lay sleeping

(I thought) on the floor.

"I'm letting him rest," he said when we'd gone into the kitchen. "I only took the collar off him an hour ago. He was so ornery last night that I kept him in chains. I don't think he got much sleep.'

"Ornery?" I asked. I couldn't imagine Bernie putting up with any disobedience.

I'd always been slapped silly for any infraction or resistance. 'He will not submit, Jimmy. Not like he should, anyway. I get the feeling he's only obeying me until I leave the room, as if he's disobeying me even when he isn't. I can hold out my dick in his face and I can see that he wants it but he won't admit it, won't beg for it. He just sits there and looks calm as he can be. So I slap him and he glares at me." "Just like a cat," I said, without really thinking about it.

"You and your cats, Jimmy." He grunted his contempt. "For a cat boy, you sure loved being a dog."

This was true. I never really liked dogs, though I liked Bernie's shephard, Max. But being a dog was great. I get off on humiliation , and what could be more humiliating that being an animal that I didn't even like?

I accepted the coffee he handed me and watched Jason walk into the kitchen with more grace than seemed humanly possible.

Now Bernie was a big man, six-three maybe, barrel-chested with enormous arms, big hands. He had a beautiful red beard that he kept full but neatly trimmed. He was bald on top, but furry as a bear everywhere else. (A couple of us, another one of his boys and I, used to refer to him as "Daddy Bear," though never to his face.)

He was a demanding Master, fierce and uncompromising, but when he'd gotten what he'd wanted from you, when he'd pushed you as far as you could go (and he knew just how far he could push a slave), he'd be there for you, hold you close and make you feel safe, let you suck his tit, or his cock and balls. And he always held that reward back until the end; he didn't believe 42 DRUMMER in being good to the slave until the slave had earned it. He'd beat you to holy hell and fuck you any way that felt good to him, threw you around, made you eat dog food, put you in a kennel, called you a shit and a cocksucking faggot. Then he'd be so warm and gentle that you knew it was worth every bit of agony he put you through just to be safe in his arms. Or at least that's how I always felt.

The point is that I really loved Bernie and doubted right away that this new boy of his appreciated him.

Jason looked down on me where I sat at Bernie's table and nodded as if he already knew me. He was smaller than Bernie, of course, but taller than me, though not as big as me, not as muscular or heavy boned as I am.

"Jason, this is Jimmy. Jim, Jason."

He nodded again in the same way, "Hi."

"Hi."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah."

"Feeling okay?" asked Bernie, resting one giant hand on Jason's furry little bottom.

'Sure." He stretched out his body with the same grace with which he had walked into the room. "Feel great."

He gave Bernie a perfunctory kiss.

"Jim and I are going to lunch. Hungry?"

"Sure." He said the words as if it were a right, being fed. not arrogantly, just matter-of-factly. He sat down on a chair opposite me and looked into my eyes. I looked away, afraid of him. I felt devastated, almost violated. But also elated. And I knew that he sensed all of this without being told.

He turned his head and looked out the window with complete disinterest. The dog, who'd been sleeping in the corner

How could Bernie want to break him? I'd rather have been his slave, to be played with cruelly…to be his completely. until Jason had come in, got up, almost cowering, backed out of his the door with a whine and curled up on the back porch.

"What's his problem?" asked Bernie, looking after the dog through the window.

Jason looked at me with the same calm disinterest with which he'd looked out the window, with the same expression he'd had when I'd first seen him (I thought) sleeping.

Dog had a bad dream," he said with quiet authority.

I looked back into his eyes and agreed with whatever he'd said. It was in that moment, I think, that I knew Jason was different.

"What would you know about dogs, Jimmy? Jason, Jim here is a cat fancier. Prefers them to people.'

"Is that true, Jim?" His eyes lightened up as he stared into my soul.

"Usually," I laughed, trying to make light of it.

"I'm not surprised," said Jason. "You're that sort of person." His voice was almost hypnotic. The most I could do was mutter an inarticulate, "Really…

Bernie laughed. He apparently thought it was all a joke. I laughed with him, but could think only of how I'd do anything

department

LEATHER NOTEBOOK

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Dear Larry,

Having originally "come out" in the SM scene with your Handbook, I figure you're the guy to ask about my heaviest, unfulfilled fantasy. I really want "animal training." I want it so bad I can almost taste it. I have read numerous articles about "dog training." but these are just a mind-fuck. I can't find any qualified Top who is seriously interested in turning me into a pig, ass, horse, dog, or…? What I really want is a guy who can make it such a mind-trip that I can imagine myself actually undergoing a metamorphosis into whatever animal he has in mind, I picture myself being placed in a really unclean stable, completely under the control of the man who is going to train me.

The few people I've discussed this with think I'm just perverted, or maybe not sincere. In respect to SM standards, am I way off-base? Is there any chance of my finding the kind of Master I need, or am I condemned forever to fantasize over a situation I can never obtain? (Please don't suggest an ad. I've already tried many of these without success.) Awaiting your reply, I remain married to my can of Lube.

Frustrated, Milwaukee

Dear Frustrated,

You are seeking not only a highly specialized situation, but you also need a man who has the facilities to carry out your dreams. While this is one of the most popular themes of SM fiction, I have to confess that I have never met anyone who has actually lived it-from either side. This is not to say it can not, or has not happened. I'm sure it has, but the fact that I haven't encountered it makes me believe it has to be very rare. I do not feel that you are outside the reasonable bounds of SM behavior, but you are certainly not in the "mainstream." If some rugged farmer-type writes in and wants you, I'll certainly be happy to pass along the invitation. (But don't hold me responsible for your saddle sores or flea bites.)

Dear Larry,

I have a question-just how much abuse can a guy's nuts take?

My other half and I really get into some heavy-duty nut-crushing sex. On several occasions we've gotten out the sterilized needles and several tubes of KY and filled each other's scrotum as full as possible with KY. That heavy, tugging sensation at your balls with a huge scrotum is just totally unbelievable! My sac measured 17 inches in circumference the last time it was filled up, and I might add that it really gives the impression of one hell of a HUGE basket.

Another fantastic feeling is having your own huge sac slapping against your

I would really like to correspond with other guys who have done similar things to themselves or their partners. But I'd also like to know if you think we're risking serious harm by playing this way.

Bret, Oregon

Dear Bret.

Every time I become complacent and think I've heard or tried it all, someone like you comes along and stops me cold. It's a most intriguing idea, but I have to admit I don't know how to answer you. My two medical advisors are both out of town. The first question that comes to my mind is, what happens to all that K-Y? Does the body absorb it? Since it's a sterile solution, I'm assuming it won't hurt you, except that it does tend to dehydrate the tissues. Also, if you're filling the syringe from the top, rather than through the needle, you're increasing risk of infection.

I don't know what this might do to your balls over a period of extended use. I'm sure that some ball torture aficio-nado will supply the answers, and when he does I'll pass it along. We've got enough mad doctors out there that you'll surely get a number of responses.

Dear Larry,

Perhaps you can settle something for me. My Master, who is quite a bit older than me (I'm just a young punk), got pissed off at me the other day because I stopped for a few beers on the way home from work and didn't let Him know where I was. For punishment, He went out and picked up a street dog-slave. He ordered us both to strip and kneel at His feet, while He fondled His big cock. Then He ordered the dog slave to suck on it while I watched. Then He ordered the slave onto his knees and fucked him.

I was nearly out of my mind seeing this. Master blew a heavy load up the punk's ass and pulled out. The punk licked His cock clean. Then Master asked me if I'd like some of His cum, too. I couldn't figure what he was up to, but naturally I said "Yes." He then ordered me down behind the dog-slave and made me eat it out of his ass. I almost vomited!

Then it went on from there, Master doing everything he could to humiliate me in front of this street punk and giving him all the action that should have been mine. He ever ordered the punk to whip my ass. I think I am right in feeling that this was cruel and unfair punishment. I know I was way out of line, but the punishment didn't fit the crime. A good, old-fashioned ass whipping would have been more in order. I feel this is the lowest I could ever sink, but I think Master was wrong. Please help me settle this matter because I don't want it ever to happen again.

Slave, Huntington Park, CA

Dear Slave.

If you were merely claiming to be an M or a bottom, I'd answer you differently. But you claim the status of a slave, and this is a very rare and honorable condition . However, a real slave is just that-the complete and unquestionable property of his Master. So long as you maintain that you are a slave, you have no recourse. Your Master's word is law! The aspect of the whole scene which I see as questionable has to do with the health risk to which your Master subjected you both.

Dear Larry,

Can I say something to all the men who place ads? Why, oh why when I send you additional revealing photos after the first time, do you write a short note back with no information about yourself? Are you collecting photos, or looking for action? I'm wondering if anyone out there is actually serious about meeting or corresponding . I should own the local postal center! Hell, I'll be wanting a hot-assed slave here in the near future and I want to spend serious time reviewing and interrogating potential slaves. But 99% of all you assholes out there just want my hot photos and JO letters. Fuck, I've got much more than that to offer! Shit or get off the pot, fuckers!

Greg, Miami

Dear Greg,

Okay, you said it. I hope you get a chance to whip some of those elusive little asses.

(If you would like to have Larry Townsend address a particular problem or issue, you can write him via Leather Notebook, Drummer, 640 Natoma Street, San Francisco, CA 94103.)

feature

SPECIAL CATALOG SUPPLEMENT: THE SOURCE

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p. 53 · 16 pp · scans: 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68

You need it? Need it bad? Try The Source.

795 MISTER BENSON

The novel that electrified leather-men across the country when it was first serialized in Drummer, revised by the author with an epilogue from Mr. Benson himself. Cited by Penthouse as one of the Top Ten SM Novels ever writ- ten, praised by Phil Andros as "an SM masterwork ," and acknowledged "a classic underground novel" by the Village Voice, John Preston's Mr. Benson is must reading for all leathermen, and for anyone who wants to understand the phenomenon of gay SM in the 1980s.

895

THE BRIG

A major novel of military discipline and institutionalized SM. Victor Terry in Dungeon-Master calls it "one of the best erotic novels of dominance and enforced submission I have ever read- … This book is hot!"

Set at the close of the Vietnam War, The Brig chronicles a young consciencious objector's ordeal at the hands of his Marine tormentors , his surprising self-discoveries in the midst of torment, his ultimate triuimph-and the price he pays for it.

495

HE AIN'T HEAVY, HE'S MY LOVER

Had enough of whips, chains, and heavy-duty SM? You won't escape them here-but you'll rediscover them with a decidedly humorous twist, along with Carlo Carlucci's glowingly humorous look at every other aspect of gay life, from the pangs of coming out to a Thurberesque cartoon series "War Between the Machos and the Sissies" that will have you in stitches!

Gay cartoon books have come and gone, but this one is really special. "A must-have cartoon book," says the Baltimore Gay Paper; "a sharper wit could not be found!" Cruise Magazine says it's "the kind of book you'll read over and over, getting a fresh chuckle or grin each time." And the San Francisco Review of Books declares that Carlo Carlucci "has the talent of Thurber."

FROM THE LARRY TOWNSEND COLLECTION:

EARLY NOVELS

KISS OF LEATHER $10.95 THE FAUSTUS CONTRACT $10.95 MAN SWORD $10.95 $10.95 BEWARE THE GOD WHO SMILES MIND MASTER $10.95 THE CONSTRUCTION WORKER $10.95 SM SCRAPBOOK $10.95 THE LONG LEATHER CORD $10.95

The Zeus Collection's 1250 SADO ISLAND Illustrated by Matt

Beyond Road Warrior and Chrome lies a new dimension in sophisticated science fiction SM. Welcome to Sado Island. stronghold of the notorious Baron Heinrich von Sado and his menacing muscular / metallic hench-men!

Zeus commissioned New Orleans artist Matt to take this quantum leap into the illustrated future of SM adventure, where its 2139 and hell on earth is a place called Saso Island. Two musclebound hereos fight a police society that forbids their 'deviate" love-then take on the sadistic battlechief of world terrorism, Heinrich Von Sado. Sado Island catapults your fantasies into the future and penetrates the darkest recesses of your imagination.

SLAVES Q95 OF THE EMPIRE by Aaron Travis Illustrated by Cavelo

Hot off the press-the long-awaited paperback edition of Aaron Travis' SM Roman epic, with twelve richly de- tailed illustrations by the master of erotic fantasy art, Cavelo.

Set against the barbaric spendor of ancient rome at the height of its empire , Slaves seduces the reader into a steamy world of flesh and steel, where a famed gladiator must ultimately choose between his own brutal nature and his love for a pair of twin-princes, while a sadistic sentator plots to enslave them all.

John Preston calls Slaves of the Empire "a wonderful mythic tale," and Phil Andros has called it "taut, tense, and absorbing."

"With hardly a pause," says the Bay Area Reporter, "Aaron Travis torments us from sex scene to sex scene, each building higher than the one before, all satisfying, original and leading surely to the hair-raising last chapter… I got bruises just from reading.

Lavish, unusual and compelling, Slaves of the Empire is a novel you'll read more than once—the first time for its suspenseful story, and after that for lingering fantasies and pleasure.

FROM THE LARRY TOWNSEND COLLECTION:

TREASURIES OF SM

AUDIO CASSETTES ARE YOUR HOTTEST

TURN-ON AND THESE ARE THE VERY BEST AVAILABLE!

RITES AND RAUNCH

There was definately something evil about the guy, maybe that's why I went home with him. But nothing prepared me for what was to come. I admit the things he lead me into were pretty sick, but he was so sure of himself, so masculine-well, I did them. Warning: Don't order this tape unless you're prepared to listen in on some really perverted stuff-devil worship, toilet sex in a filthy bathroom. M le-bonding at it's most extreme.

PART 1

The kid's been bad (chicks and drugs) but Dad knows just how to handle him. Dad shows his son who's boss and gives him the punishment he deserves. It's a horny kid's introduction into the male world of cocksucking, armpits, piss, and most of all, hot masculine attitude.

PART 2 THE KID'S FIRST TIME WITH DAD

Dad's been waiting for the right opportunity to corrupt his oversexed boy and tonight's the night. He knows he shouldn't do it, but those hot ass cheeks and adolsescent cock are too tempting.

KID vs DAD-WINNER TAKE ALL

Ever wrestle with your Old Man? Ever wonder what would happen if those sessions got Dad hot-too hot-and he overpowered you? Even wonder about all the different things he could force you do to to that sweaty body of his before he pins you on your stomach and forces that horse-dick of his up your ass? It's all on this tape!

MY DADDY WAS BAD

The kid comes home to find his dad asleep after a hard day's work. He could stand there forever at the foot of the bed, rubbing his crotch and watching his Dad's hairy chest, meaty thighs, and swollen dick. But when Dad wakes up, matters come to a head and the kid gets taken on a wild sex trip that culminates in a super-hot scene.

MUSCLE BUILDER ORGY

Five hot bodybuilders after a sweaty workout…stripping down to sweat-drenched jock straps…eyeing each other…their hands reaching out to feel their buddy's bicep, brushing against these solid, hard pecs…and down, down still further 'till they get so hot they don't give a shit who walks in. If you get off on pumped-up muscle, hot man-to- man action, STEAMY LOCKERROOM SEX WITH NO HOLDS BARRED, then this tape if for you.

DELIVERY BOY COMES AGAIN

Richie is the new driver on the route. He's a hot straight Italian guy who seems a little "curious" when he finds himself delivering beer and soda to a gay bar. The bartender jumps at the opportunity: soon he convinces Richie to pull out his dick and show it off. "I gotta piss," Richie announces so the bartender hands him an empty beer can. A hot session follows that gets into heavy cocksucking, lots of dirty talk, more piss games, and kinky exhibitionism.

BIKE EXHIBITIONIST

Imagine, it's a steamy afternoon at the local truck stop and you see a biker who looks too good to be true—mean, dirty, muscular—leaning against his big, black Harley. You ask if he's interested in getting some pictures of his bike. But back in your garage, his massive chest, his big hairy ass, piss streaming out of that dick. It turns out he's quite an exhibitionist. But things get out of hand when he forces you to do more than take pictures. In a short time you know that stinking body better than your Polaroid does.

HOT HUNG TRUCKER

Teamster Bob picks up a not-so-innocent hitchhiker at a truckstop in the California desert. Bob has a kink in his neck…Jake the hitchhiker suggests a massage. Bob's leather jacket is the first think to come off-then his dirty greasy jeans. When they drop to the floor of the cab, you'll find out why this tape is called HOT HUNG TRUCKER. Jake knows just what to do to service that big rig. And you'll feel like you're right there to help him out.

Porn star Al Parker in his only audio tape. Al's an air conditioner repairman who drops in on a guy who's wife isn't home. Who could resist Al's enormous cock? Sucking that mammouth piece of meat isn't enough and pretty soon the guy's begging for it up his ass. He gets it too-plus Al's giant balls at the same time, in one of the hottest kinklest scenes ever-recorded . 45 minutes.

GREASE MONKEYS STARRING MASTER MARIO

Two sweaty garage mechinics rape a guy they find hanging around the men's room. He puts up a fight, at first, anyway. Lots of axel grease, cocksucking, filthy talk.

DADDY BREAKS IN A NEW BOY

Patience and understanding goes out the window and Daddy starts training his boy with the tried and true adage, "spare the rod and spoil the boy." It is heavy duty training in an actual session. Both the boy and you will be better for having been there.

TAPE 1 THE INTERROGATION

STARRING MASTER MARIO Authentic military discipline as a tough

Drill Instructor takes advantage of a couple of guys in the brig. Packed with heavy verbal abuse and forced body worship as the D.I. proves who's in command.

MARINES OVERHEARD

Two hot and very horny young Marines meet in the barracks latrine. Richie has to take a piss…and Mike takes things from there. If you're a real pig…if you like your action raunchy-hot military scenes, uniforms, the feel of a cold tile floor against your naked back while a hot Marine squats on your face—then we think you might be interested in MARINES OVERHEARD.

THE COMMANDER SPEAKS

"I am your big brother, your daddy, your commanding officer. I am every big man you ever saw in your whole fuckin' life and started beating off about…your tongue is going to be my shower…your mouth is going to be my toilet…you're going to make me feel like the biggest man in the world just 'cause you got a throat. Get your teeth down there on that zipper…get down. That's it—get your face in there. Smell what a man is like between his legs." This is just the start of the verbal abuse and humiliation the Commander is going to heap on you.

This tape is featured on the cover of Drummer Magazine. Model Brutus is a mean Master who knows how to deliver some heavy abuse, both physical and mental. On side one he talks directly to you, forcing you to suck his big cock and worship that incredible Master body. On side two we hear an authentic session where he works over a slave. Plenty of humiliation, and heavy, heavy abuse.

TAPE 2 THE TRAINING BEGINS

Brutus lays it on as his recruit responds willingly and unwillingly to the abuse and humiliation of his training. Not even allowed to beg, he submits to the DI's heavy hand and busy belt. Breathtaking!

TAPE 3 PUNISHMENT & REWARD

When Brutus speaks, men listen as will you when he tells you how it is and how it's going to be. Whether the punishment is its own reward or the reward is merely more punishment, only the lowly recruit can say. 1 hour.

THE COP STARRING MASTER MARIO

A mean police officer forces a suspect to service his body in a show of brute perverted force. Climaxed by a raunchy bathroom scene and the victim cleaning out the cop's dirty ass.

COP WORSHIP

We've never offered a strictly one-man narrative tape before, but this one is so good we decided to make an exception. It's one guy's cop fantasies, his true-life obsessions, his dreams of what might happen if that super-hot cop he's had his eye on for months should bust him, force him to his knees to suck not only his cock but his partner's too, as the two cops stare at each other in the eye. All the guy's pent-up desires come out slurping cop cum out of rubbers, swallowing gallons of cop piss, wallowing under dominant cop attitude. If you're into cops you'll listen to this tape again and again.

DRUMMERMAN/ BE MY CLOWN

A pair of back-to-back hits for the leather crowd, from Mario Simon, whose performances at Mr. Drummer competitions from coast to coast brought audiences cheering to their feet!

HIS MASTER'S VOICE

The novelty hit of the year. Whoever thought you'd be discoing to D.I. Brutus!? Be the first in your neighborhood, your bar or your dungeon. 95

MAN SIZE VIDEOS

FACES been to a club like Faces-where "Private Dancers" put on a show for the clientele that leaves nothing to the imagination! The mood is raw and rough; the action's a voyeur's wet dream, especially with hot stars like Rydar Hanson (Mr. Southern California Drummer '85) and blond muscle hunk Rex. Consider this your private invitation to Faces. 095

TOUGH & TENDER

From French filmmaker Jean-Daniel Cadinot, another masterful look into the world of young men in heat. The setting is a detention home for young offenders; the action ranges from brutal gang-rape to tender budding romance. Another masterwork from the king of French gay erotica.

A FEW GOOD MEN

It's man-to-man action in olive drab when director Steve Scott takes his camera inside the barracks to lay bare the secret passions of men in uniform. The cast includes hard-muscled Peter Barre and super-hung Michael Christoper, but it's big Lee Ryder who ends up with the brass. A strictly macho trip for men into discipline, uniforms-and real men! Q95

KING FOR SOOD MEN

THE BOYS OF COMPAI

Join these men on the first day of Boot Camp-from pairing off in the shower stalls to private meetings with the sergeant for some military discipline to turn a naive young farm boy into a rock-hard veteran! And just wait until "lights out," when the action really heats up! Starring Rick Donovan and Joe Reeve. Q95

NONSTOP

The title says it all-arriving in New York, a young man gets caught up in the lure of the sexhunt, from private bedrooms to warehouse districts haunted by the hung and horny. Including one of super-thick Daniel Holt's most exciting screen appearances. On-location photography, directed by Steve Scott, and a feverish pace that won't let up! 095

SCREEN PLAY

One of the best erotic films of 1984: Innocent young drifter Lee Ryder ends up with a film crew in the desert, and develops a taste for male sex with equally masculine Eric Ryan and a very receptive Jon King. A strong storyline, memorable performances , the steady hand of director Steve Scott-and some very raw, rough action-make this a very special film.

TONY'S INITIATION

What erotic rituals are performed behind the locked doors of a very private, all-male sex club? Tony (Shawn McWilliams) finds out-and so will you, in this exotic series of encounters between superstars Chris Burns, Tim Kramer, and Michael Christopher. The bizarre initiation rite is only the first step in Tony's X-rated adventures.

GIANTS: PART ONE

Only the biggest and the best-with an oversized cast headed by Rick "Humongous" Donovan and including Lee Ryder, Eric Ryan, Brad Mason and Gador. A gathering of erotic film stars begins with memories of the good 'ol days of skin-flicks, and explodes into the hottest manto -man "sex chain" of super-stud giants in the biz!

7995

GETTING IT

Like, are you ready for the invasion of the Valley Boys? It's totally awesome! Especially with a cast of 36 (yep, count 'em) hot young men headed by electrifying newcomer Shawn Michaels, backed to the hilt by Rick Donovan, Jon King and Matt Ramsey! It all starts at an all-guy party in the Valley that explodes into an energetic orgy that'll leave you breathless!

7995

OUTRAGE

Controversial, mysterious, undeniably erotic-the films of Christopher Rage continue to excite as no others do! His latest takes you into a tangled world of sexual passions that include some of the most bizarre and inventive sequences ever imagined, let alone videotaped! Clothing fetishes, rubbers, bondage and leather are just the beginning…

7995

LIKE A HORSE

Nonstop heat and excitement from the man who gave you "A Matter of Size." Follow ten young superstars through a series of beautifully photographed fantasies—a fight for dominance on the wrestling mat; leathersex in the alley; savage sex between a jungle man and his "boy"; and a desert orgy out of the Arabian Nights!

SIZING UP

The latest from Matt Sterling and Huge Video makes another quantum leap in gay video. A group of triumphant young athletes team up after the competition in some of the most sizzling action ever scored. Elaborate sets and lighting, steamy sex, and a more than capable cast of newcomers (including Brian Maxon) make this one an all-around champ!

7995

THE BIGGER THE BETTER

The title puts is as bluntly as possible, and you'll be inclined to agree after seeing Rick "Humongous" Donovan at his finest-his body in better shape than ever, and his legendary tool rising to the occasion for a dynamite after-classes encounter with "teacher" Matt Ramsey-who learns to take things Rick's way! Also featured is dirty-talking, lean-muscled Mike Ramsey, who makes a habit of seducing his "straight" friends with a wave of his tempting meat. Another title from Matt Sterling (director of "A Matter of Size"), with the dynamic photography and sweaty action that's become his trademark.

7995

THE STORY OF 'Q' 995

The classic story by Robert Payne. We have only a hundred or so of this second printing. Leather Fraternity members ordering now will get their copy signed by Mr. Payne. Indicate inscription desired.

THE BEST OF ZEUS 395

The hottest Zeus men-Gregg Strom, Val Martin, Mickey Squires, Ryder Knight, 8 more! Full color-lots of bondage.

End of the line for this one. Fred Hal-sted's movie in still form. A rare collector's item.

DOWN WHITE BOY

A photo essay of two BIG blacks working over a blond surfer. Big meat, and lots of action. Inspired by the "Down Boy" story of reverse slavery.

GLORY HOLE SLAVE

A bottom finds a Master and happiness in a dirty film booth South of Market. Photographed on actual location and stars Ed Wiley and Scott (Biggest Dick in San Francisco)

CHAIN REACTIONS

Video collection of stills from Marathon Films new theatre film

The first of the Drum books along with some wonderful extras by the great Bill Ward.

DRUM BY BILL WARD 95

The second book filled with leather action. Beautifully illustrated.

SLAVES FOR SALE 995

Movie still collection to accompany the best-selling "Slaves for Sale" with three Mr. Drummers and a cast of eight.

FOLSOM MAGAZINE

We bought out the remainder of this magazine and have only the two issues above available. As for Issue Two ("Leatherneck") and Issue Three ("ABC's of S&M"). Available at 395

VAL BREAKS IN A HOUSE SLAVE

Val Martin actually breaks in a couple of them as only he can. Hot situations with considerable pointers by the old master. One of our favorites. It was a day to remember.

595

DRUMMER DADDIES

Drummer's hottest selling specials. Take your choice of issues One,

Two or Three. Cover prices $6. Collectors' items definitely. left. CLASS OF '82 top all

ANNUALS:

BEST & WORST OF DRUMMER

The first annual is getting very rare.

595

DRUMMER RIDES AGAIN!

Western motiff along with outrageous fiction and photos. Not many

595

Initiations and school hijinks make this an annual to yearbooks.

595

DRUMMER MARCHES ON!

The oversize Military issue with an awful lot going for it.

595

BLACK ON RED

You saw the photo article in Drummer-now see the tape! Brick Samson, a Master of enema techniques, and Chris Burns, shaved hairless and ready to be filled, star in what may be the definitive video exploration of the erotic enema. The heavy action also includes dildos, licking, catheters, piercing, shaving, and more in this epic of a leatherclad Master and his hungry slave. From the producers of "Enema Night / Enema Slave."

Drummer says: "Chris Burns is dynamite as a young bottom enslaved by the only Master, and the only man, able to satisfy his deepest need!"

7995

ENEMA NIGHT/ ENEMA SLAVE

From the makers of " Black on Red," two previous erotic shorts featuring leather, asshole shaving, and multiple enemas. (There's also some nipple-twisting, ball-crushing, and well-directed ass-slapping -but it's the water spout that steals the show.) "Enema Slave" features a young man who takes an enema bent over a motorcycle before ending up in his captor's sling for more of the same; "Enema Night" goes even further with two leathermen administering a deep plunge to a hapless slave bound to a rack—and some interesting role-reversal. A must for the video collector and the enema connoiseur!

GAMES

From super-director Steve Scott ("Sceeenplay" and Non-stop") comes a rivetting tale of gay sexual athletes scoring heavy and setting world-class records from the playing field to the locker room to the bedroom! Superstar Al Parker breaks all previous records ; Leo Ford, hung, blond and young, gives him a run for the money!

7995

FANTASIZE

New and hot! When handsome Nick Jerrett drops into Los Angeles' famed Pleasure Chest to check out the goods, and few other horny shoppers check out his goods-and an erotic shopping spree turns into a wild series of fantasy sexcapades! Also starring hunky Mark Rebel. The leather fantasy sequence, with a harnessed, hooded Master and his slave in spiked collar, is a must! 95

HEAD TRIPS

Plug into the fantasy circuit! A series of young men enter a "head trip" invention which allows then to get in touch with their wildest fantasies-and you get to watch! From public sex in a restaurant to a firehouse orgy and a visit with "Daddy," these trips will keep you up-all night! With Al Parker, Rydar Hanson and Cole Taylor.

MEN & STEEL

When big just isn't BIG enough! Featuring one of the best-hung, best-rounded casts in a long time: Dark, handsome Pierce Daniels, who knows how to get it—and take it—like a man; superstud Michael Christopher; Rick Donovan, one of the biggest; and young Dan Lynn, lean and long, in his film debut.

69<sup>95</sup>

7995

RICA'S HOTTEST MEN IN COMP

YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE!

Leather's Big Night soared to new heights of heated fantasy with the showdown contest for Mr. Drummer 1985! Nine contestants from across the country vied for the number one leather title in America, and only one emerged triumphant-big Steve Reiswig, with all his brawn intact! You should have been there-but if you weren't (or if you want to want to relive Leather's Big Night), the highlights are all here on the Mr. Drummer 1985 videotape. The men, the leather, the fetishes and red-hot fantasies all come together. It was a night to remember.!

Also available: Last year's Mr. Drummer 1984, the first Drummer contest captured on videotape and just as wild as '85!

Each tape

SEND $3 FOR OUR HOT NEW CATALOG

7995 VHS / BETA

Born To Raise Hell is a seventy-minute hard-on . At least that is what I had the night they screened it for me. It is a classic in Leather SM movie-making .

-Robert Payne DRUMMER

Now, see for yourself the film that made a star of Val Martin. Originally in four parts, this videotape is the complete theatrical film and includes The Bar Scene, The Shaving Scene, The Dungeon Scene and the Cop's Revenge Scene. No collection is complete without it and we are extremely happy to be able to offer it for home viewing. Running time: 70 minutes.

VHS / BETA

A BOLD, UN-FLINCHING LOOK AT LIFE IN AN ACTUAL DUNGEON…

NIGHT OF SUBMIS

This is about the first big production of leathersex and showed a dungeon that was the talk of the leatherworld for years. It still holds up well and this is a print from brand-new theatre film. Drummer featured it in a very early issue and even published a picture book (now unavailable). Running time is sixty hot and exciting minutes and the price is modest

SLAVES FOR SALE

SLAVERY WAS ABOLISHED IN 1863 BUT NOBODY BOTHERED TO TELL HIM

Meet the man who is dedicated to carrying on that age old tradition. He gathers them up one way or another— hunky men from all walks of like-and brings them to The Compound.

They are stripped, shave, branded…or worse.

They are brutally trained, shackled, abused, then offered to the highest bidder. There is no escape…

It was done a hundred years ago and it is being brought back in this Robert Payne fantasy, Slaves for Sale, that will hold your attention from the first gripping moment to the last explosive orgasm.

In two parts, each tape runs one hour. Starring Ken Bergquist as the Dungeon Master, and a cast of extraordinarily hot, hung, hunky captives that includes Mr. Drummer '84, Mr. Rocky Mountain Drummer '84, and the winner of the Biggest Dick in San Francisco contest. Plus many, many more exciting newcomers to the video screen.

SLAVES FOR SALE PARTS 1 & 2

TITCLAMPS

Ouch! Or is that ooooooooooh! You'll get a lot of nipple-sensitive stimulation with these beautifully crafted, chain-conected little biters in chrome. He'll follow you anywhere with these attached to his tits! In two versions: with detachable rubber ends (4.95), or with adjustable screw to regulate tension (5.95).

MAN OF WAR!

The finest latex dildos made, and the Source's best sellers! Flexible but firm, soft but solid for hour of fun. Shown here: our 9" model, available in white fleshtone or black fleshtone (9.95). Also available, for real man-eaters , the giant 12" model (19.95).

LEATHER FRATERNITY GREETING CARDS by Rex

The ultimate all-occasion card collection from Rex, the master of hard-edged erotic art! Available exclusively from the Source to you! An assortment of one dozen will send your message in sleazy style. Studio size; sturdy kraft envelopes included to get your message there discreetly. (9.95)

SOUNCE

SHOWER SHOT

Our best shot: Keep it clean with this deluxe shower attachment with flexible reinforced hose, gently bevelled nozzle, and instant water flow diverter (switch from shower to shower shot with the push of a button). The best on the market at the best price! (29.95)

THE BEST LUBRICANTS!

Our selections are drawn from the finest manto -man or solo-action lubricants on the market. Your selection of Lube (Natural, Hot, or Ultra) in 4 oz. (2.95) or 16 oz. (5.95); or Frisco, newest on the market, in small (2.50) or large (5.95); or high-tech formula ForPlay in 8 oz. (5.95). All water-soluable.

THE TOOL!

A medium-sized dildo for comfortable pleasure, 7" in length with a tapered base that makes for butt-plug capability-look, ma, no hands! In regular, with a gently ribbed shaft (8.95) or (shown here) extra-thick (9.95). Both in white fleshtone.

RCE ORDER FORM

640 NATOMA STREET / SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94103

POSTAGE & HANDLING CHARGES:

$15 or less, add $2; $15.01-$35., add $3; $35.01-$75, add $4; $75.01-$100., add $5. Use street address for UPS delivery when possible for speedier delivery.

ROBERT PAYNE'S HOT NEW BOOK!

The first of his new MANHOOD RITUALS series, this book tells in pictures and text of THE COMPOUND, a manhood training instition which teaches discipline and obedience and goes the Marine Corps and prisons considerably better. Years ago DRUMMER told you of The Quarters and of the subsequent Compound which followed. It has been put together for you in a handsome new publication that you will read, treasure and re-read.

SEND $3 FOR OUR HOT NEW CATALOG

ROBERT PAYNE'S BESTSELLER

An all-time best seller, this is the second version of Robert Payne's first effort. The breaking-in of the slave, remodeling, training, punishment and reward all covered in fact and fiction. If you don't have a copy or if yours is dog-eared and worn out, his could be your last chance to get this version.

SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94107

department

DEAR SIR!

start p.

p. 69 · 20 pp · scans: 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88

The man-to-man classifieds to beat all others!

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#chainware scan 71 · image_002.png

HOT MAN-TO-MAN CONTACT FOR A COOL 50¢ PER WORD! icture this: You're horny (again).

So you pick up the phone and punch a few numbers.

Some other dude comes on the line. Some other horny dude. Live meat, unrehearsed, and you've got him on the phone.

Now what do you do?

That's your business.

To join, call the Connecter at

(415) 346-8747.

The 24-hour-a-day telephone cruise line. Still the only service of its kind. No disconnections . No "unwanted charges." And no hired voices. Just hot - live - phone action.

It's easy to use. Quick And real inexpensive - only a few cents a call (excluding any long distance charges).

Our exclusive S&M, Jack Off, and Dating hot lines are waiting. Check it out now

The Connecter, Inc. 515 Broderick, Suite 2, San Francisco, CA 94117

Must be 18 years or older.

STRICT DADDY WANTED & NEEDED

Turn this 180 lb., 5'10" sissy boy into a man's boy. Will relocate anywhere. I will be your boy permanently. Send photo, please, Sir to: Box 11482, Harrisburg, PA 17108.

DEAR SIR: YOUR PERSONAL SLAVE MARKET

OPEN TO THE PUBLIC AGAIN J-REE's Basement Studio, 222 Magnolia, Downtown Daytona Beach (next to Kentucky Fried Chicken). Afternoons, Ultrarealistic paintings-life -sized and larger: posed, action, couples, bondage, execution. $4500- $21,500; reproductions available. Commissions negotiable. (Inquiries: P.O. Box 2266, Daytona Beach, FL 32015-2266)

NYC MASTER seeks live-in slave—shave expenses at start. Box 4506

Hot WM, 29, 57", 155, masculine, muscular, goodlooking, rugby player desires to exchange stories of depantsings in school, scouts, military, raternities, sport clubs, etc. Also any forced stripping, hazing, shaving, other humiliations, initiations or gang- tickling. Awaiting your letter. PO Box 222, Bradford, CT 06405

FIND DADDY IN DEAR SIR

SWEDISH BEARDED BIKER

29, 185 cm, 80 kg, coming to U.S. Seeking big daddles, bearded, into leather, rubber, BD, SM, (biker). Americans & Europeans. Send photo-you get one. Box 4444.

ALABAMA

GOOD SLAVE NEEDS MASTER

I am a very good slave and a masochist. I am seeking good times with good-looking Leather Masters who enjoy being a Master as much as I enjoy being a slave to my Master. I will be a good urinal boy and ass wipe. I enjoy being humiliated, especially in public places and I need to suck lots of cocks. I need daily whippings and I can take a lot of abuse and use. However, do not wish to be permanently marked. I love leather, chains, ropes, handcuffs and restraints and being bound up for use or abuse. Please, Sirl I need you. Don't you need me? Please, Sirl I will obey and make you proud of your slave. Thank you, Sir. Box 4460LF.

DEAR SIR-WHERE TOPS AND BOTTOMS COME TOGETHER!

WM, 6', 220, 44, full beard, desires friend / Top to show me how to be a bottom. Into some BD, CBT, dildos or the real thing. Have selection of "autoerotic " hardware on hand. Must get to know and trust respondents before getting it on. Mutual discretion is expected and assured. Montgomery area preferred. Box 4481LF

LEATHER, LEVIS & BOOTS

I would enjoy fun times with leather guys into Harley Davidson guys into Harrey Davidson Motorcycles. Let's get together—be my guest! I'm 49, 510*, 160, W, blue / brown. Enjoy as well: Horseback riding, mountain hikes, travel, oceans, music, and faced 2 wines. Spend some time in good food & wine. Spend some time in U.K. each summer. Love leathers, levis & boots. Box 4482LF

FORESKIN HUMILIATION

21-year-old WM, cut at age 17 due to humiliation, especially over doctors examining uncut penis. Photo exchange, Phone J / O. Write to David, PO Box 59806, Birmingham, AL 35209. Photo

ALASKA

HOT BOTTOM

Hot bottom man into hiking, camping, backpacking would like to meet hot top men for fun in Alaska. I'm 5'10", 172 lbs, 44, br / br, moustache, masculine, good build, hot buns, LF 4403. Would like to meet men 25-45, masculine, well-built, 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.

ALASKAN LOOKING FOR A DADDY?

Straight acting, hairy, cut GWM, 37, 200, blue / brn. Quiet evenings home. hottub, gardening, split wood, fish ocean, trees, Pavarotti, violin, USA 603

LOOKING FOR W / M UNCUT CHUBBIES

40-60, short, little body hair. I'm AL K. 58, 215, Hawaiian. Meet, correspond, sawp nude pics. Box 4-122, Anchorage. AK 99509

UNCUT WANTS SAME

Would appreciate hearing from and meeting uncircumcised men. A photo would be nice. Thanks loads! USA 287.

ANCHORAGE

Handsome Latin man, 31, well- endowed, wants fun and kink with white uncut males, 25-40. Into creative sex, no hangups. Send photo and letter to: Box 3130, Anchorage, Alaska 99510.

ARIZONA

PHOENIX DADDY looking for young WM who needs to be taught a lesson. I will administer a good bare-ass spanking and fuck your nouth for good measure. Send detailed letter with phone number. Newcomers welcome. Box 4522LF

UNINHIBITED? SO AM II

Like to write and meet others into c / w and skin. Like long, prolonged French sessions and cock pleasures. Enjoy it all. USA 113.

NEW AGE ARIES MALE

30s, slender, attractive. Just happens to have very handsome foreskin covering a magic mushroom inside in which magical healing dowers reside. USA 700

NORTHERN CALIFORNIA

SLAVE BOY / DOG needs Master with whip. P.O. Box 4077, San Francisco, CA 94101

TOP EXECUTIVE

Very handsome, very hung, very masculine, seeks young experienced bottom. Tell me what you want then take it, whipping, hot wax, CBT / T—whatever. I'm 61°, 180, 45. You're very handsome, slim or muscular, any race, 150, safe into safesex. I operate in S.F./Stockton. Letter / photo to Box 4562

ASSHOLE FREAKS! Hot, healthy W / M, 27, 5'11", 165, seeks creative tops to work on my pig butthole with dildoes & fist. 2269 Market St., #152, San Francisco, CA

CAN YOU HANDLE IT?

Big healthy stud, very hairy, thick uncut cock, heavy sac that requires unloading frequently, hungry hairy buns. Tell me what you like. Robert, 584 Castro, #165, San Francisco, CA 94114

SACRAMENTO

Gymnast, 35, looking for muscle. Very discrete only. Jeff, PO Box 1522, Carmichael, CA 95609

BONDAGE BOTTOM

GWM, 38, 5'9", 155 looking for a black man who is a bondage top. I am into most types of bondage and am willing to expand my limits. No FF, scat or heavy pain. Reply to Boxholder-H, 584 Castro, Ste 634, San Francisco, CA 94114-2588

BOOTLICKING MASOCHIST

Whip and torture this health- conscious, intelligent, professional, bootlicking, cocksucking torture slave. Into 501s, military boots, Fr, Gr, BD, SM, whipping, and ball torture. Moving to SF soon and visit SF frequently now. Nautilus, computers, bridge, travel, books. No WS, scat, FF, rear Fr. Send phone to Box 4532LF.

EXPERIENCED SM MASTER searching for slaves. YOU: Hot, under 30, trim, capable of heavy bondage, whipping. TT, CBT. ME: Hot, 41, muscular, AIDS-aware. Have well-equipped blackroom. Send application to Box 4512LF. First consideration for applications with photo.

HUNKY PISS SLAVE

Young handsome bodybuilder wants Master's piss, cock and hairy well-built body. I'm 5"10", 165 lbs, with huge rock- hard tits—need discipline verbal abuse, directions from strong man who knows how. Box 4514

LEATHER / RUBBER SADIST

Harley-riding Devil seeks demons for black-leather or black-rubber connections in my Inner Sanctum. I'll shove a leather-crotch Fuck to your hooded-head. You are bound in a leather or rubber straight-jacket. Surrender your sensibility with application to Boxholder P.O. Box 99033, San Francisco, CA 94109. Enclose photo. Video recording a possibility.

HEY, BOY! Your Daddy is looking for you! (916) 391-9755, or write to Box 22402, Sacramento, CA 95822.

HOT BONDAGE BOTTOM needs booted / gloved / leathered/ uniformed top interested in training a boot licking, cock sucking asshole. I need to meet up with cops, bikers, leathermen and daddies with attitude! A mean streak and a kinky knowledge of heavy BD, heavy VA, moderate SM, hoods, gags, gas masks, enemas, boots and toys. This horny, hairy WM, 29, 6', 160, brown hair, beard & moustache needs cigar smoking cops and leathermen to show me my place and keep me there. Will correspond. Photo for photo. Box 3711LF

SIR

I want to worship you, Sirl I', late 30s (look younger), 6', 160, slim, dark brown hair and eyes, Grp, Fr-a, looking for a monogamous relationship with a naturally dominant, take-charge, loving and caring big- muscled jock, wrestler, football player cop, military, construction workers 25-45. Into light TT, physical BD sweaty muscles-show me new things Outdoor scenes among the redwoods? want to please you, Sirl Ric. 1632 J Street, Eureka, CA 95501

BOTTOM PIGS

Experienced, erotic, sensual Top willing to workover and train a properly submissive, bottom pig possessing an insatiable desire for prolonged workout on his pighole, My range: excrutiatingly delicate to brutally harsh depending upon my mood and your need. Bottom must be tight, fit, clean. I'm white, 37, handsome, 6', 160, cut 7", and in control. Box 4472LF

YOUNG WHITE / ASIAN wanted for lite bondage. No SM. I'm GWM, 47. (504) 831-9298

LEAN, HARD, DEFINED MASO- SLAVE seeks trim Sado-Master. Ready for dog training, complete toilet service, bondage, CBT, piercing, cigars. Any or all, but more important, your trip… your way. I am 42, 510°, 150. Travel. Photo, phone, descriptive letter t

SLAVERY-OWNED-TORTURE

If you are haunted by these words; if you feel compelled to slavery; if you need to serve, then you will submit an appropriate application to: John Phillips, PO Box 2755, San Francisco, CA 94126. A man. A Master Sensitive yet cruel. Sophisticated but tough. Patient, experienced, perceptive. Accomplished and successful. Early 40s, tall, well-built, damn goodlooking. Real slavery doesn't happen in a bar, over a weekend, or by fantasizing. Permanent ownership is achieved by thorough exploration, extensive training, and total commitment over time. The most intimate, personal relationship that two people can experience is a true master / slave relationship. (LF4533)

SEEK DOMINANT GWM over 50, experienced in VA, CBT, B&D, very hirsuit. Prefer cut. Size unimportant Must be clean and sane and respect limits. POSITIVELY NO: Scat, TT, WS, heavy pain, or raunch. No monies involved at any time, Prefer non-smoker, but not necessary. Weight unimportant, but no freaks. I am not Gr / p, but am Fr / a-p. I an not cut, but am retracted all the time. I am new to leather, but interested. Box 4530LF

BUTT SLAVES WANTED (415) 752-0971

SHORT HANDSOME BODYBUILDER

San Francisco native, discreet, even intelligent, experienced in SM. Expert at balancing pleasure with pain. Safe (non-damaging) genital torture, restraints, 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

SULTRY DAYS-STEAMY NIGHTS

OLDER MEN WANTED

GWM, 49, seeks men 50-plus— overweight OK, Strip me, Humiliate me. Slap my ass as you rub your balls in my face. WS and threesomes great. No heavy S&M. San Francisco. Box 4635

WHITE MALE SLAVE NEEDS MASTERS

40-year-old slave wants two males to be house slave for. Bisexual attitude with 15 years experience as house slave to a bisexual couple. They are moving back to Europe—I don't want to leave the USA. Sexual hotshot—born to serve. Live on the West Coast, but can relocate. Prefer males 50-plus. Enclose photo for prompt reply. Box 4634

S.F. LEVIGUY TURN LEATHERGUY Expanding horizons. 30s, 175, 6'1", trim beard. Germanic, intelligent, sane, imaginative, even devilish. Health conscious. Curious about B / D, light S / M. Mutuality important. Negotiable Top. Photo? Box 4633

PERFECT DADDY

Hot Top needs bottom, to kiss, to hold, for hours of sucking and fucking. I'm 39, salt and pepper curly hair / beard 175 big shoulders, legs. You 20-35, hot buns, lips, ready. Photo?/phone to Box 4800 4620

BOSS MAN WANTS

Heavy-duty muscular macho boy wants to be a hot slave-animal. Your BOSS is into oil-sweat, intergation- bondage, C / B-T / T, W / S, strainin' muscles, workouts in chains, and is 5'11', 175 lbs, 45, brown hair & eyes with moustache. So don't call till you're sure you got your shit together and then between 6 & 10 P.M. ONLY! I'm not into phone trips or bullshit callers. (415) 944-9984

PIERCED, TATOOED

GWM, 41, tatooed, pierced, adverturous. Seeks men. Cigars, uniforms and all basic pleasures. Photos exchanged. All answered. Box 4256LF

HOUSEBOYS & SLAVES

Which is what you were born to be and you know it. We are willing to train the You know it. We are willing to train the right 21-35, husky, amenable man for complete service. You must be a hard worker and will be enrolled in a strict gym to make you a showpiece. You will serve men older than you

OCKSTRAP LOVERS ONLY WM. heavy into bulging raunchy pouches 6, 170 lbs. dark hazel eyes, 8' cut, into phone J / 0, group action, jock exchange, W / S. no scat,\nexhibitionism, public toilets late at\nexhibitionism, public toilet

HUMBOLDT CO.

HUMBOLDT CO. Handsome exhibitionistic slave, ex- marine, ex-stripper. Need master for S&M, WS, B&D, leather, hard fucking, the works including friendship. WM, 35, 5'10", 150#, 30" waist, 39" chest, work- out regularly. Box

BOY WANTED Generous chubby GWM seeks athletic Submissive under 35, weekly arrangement, bondage, safe sex, Chris (415) 468-6567

PHOTOGRAPHER NEEDS MODELS Young, well-defined for Japanese-style bondage stills, private collection, phone & recent photo to P.O. Box 511, Brisbane, CA 94005.

Southern CALIFORNIA

BALLPUNCHER / ASSKICKER needed by hairy lean 30s bottom for intense, safe J / O sessions. Box 4621

HEAVILY TATTOOED I am heavily tattoed W / M, 29, 6'0", 175 lbs. and would like to meet similar or tattoo lovers for fun and possible gelationship. Box 4617

of / the / American / Section / 1 [×8+]

DADDY TRUCKER 43 SEEKS SON

Live and work for Dad. Must take orders and domination well. Young and slim. Call (619)723-8481 Friday— Sunday, or write Box 4470.

DOMINANT TAURUS

Hirsute mature Master / Dad seeks smooth slave / son for mutual safe, sane sexual pleasures obedience and submissiveness—must requirements. Reply in detailed & proper manner. Sir Jay. Box 4629

LEATHER ACTION

Leatherman, 6', 175 lbs., goodlooking, seeks same for hot, healthy leather / uniform action, discipline, SM. outdoor bike scenes. Box 4148

SLAVE TRAINEE WANTED

SLAVE TRAINEE WANTED Daddy (White, 48, 62°, 230 lbs.) and his boy (Black, 19, 5°11°, 155 lbs.) are looking for a slave to train. Novice okay, Dad will teach his boy to be a Master. Only full-time, live-in, long-term SERIO

SO BAY L.A.

GWM 30s, leather / levi guy in shape, clean cut & healthy seeks others in Torr, Redn, San P, LAX area for friends / fun on / off motorcycle. Ltr / Ph. # to Box 4248

HAIRY-CHESTED MASTER White, affectionate, 35 seeks hairy- chested, white, obedient slave 24-34 for live-in near beach. Cord (213) 435-6522

MISSING SON Businessman-type Daddy, 40, 6'3", 250 Ibs., seeks his long lost son. Daddy loves and misses you. Son, write to Daddy and send your picture. Box 4632

ASS LICKER available for individuals or groups. Men under 45 preferred, Have chair. San Diego County only, Box 4401

LEVI LEATHER LOVIN' boot lickin' bottom seeks egotistical, demanding, arrogant type to serve and worship. Will surrender mind and body for your use and abuse. Dig boots— polished or rough, feet—clean or dirty mental and physical workouts, SM, VA hirsute bodies, hoods, collars, gloves, uniforms, kennel training, military discipline, 52, 6, 180 lbs., Travel USA, Box 4411LF

COP WORSHIPPER Cops—call (818)913-3819 for boot service.

GOODLOOKING DAD looking for special brother for Joe. Someone to help with chores, to share a brother they never had. Discipline to be applied for traning and awareness. De appliet for training and awareness. You will become a hot man-boy in time. Submit a letter stating general facts about yourself: Abilities, schooling, etc. If you have doubts, enclose in sealed envelope to Joe as h

YOU ARE SPECIAL

MOU ARE SPECIAL masculine, trim, any race and eager, even if not perfect, or inexperienced. I am Special, masculine, trim, brown hair and eyes, 39, 8 thick inches, artistic, professional, with the bronzed body of a weeken then you good pic will get one you'd pay to get. Maybe an invitation, too, Write: Holder, Box 6344, Rosemead, CA 91770 (LF4521)

MANHANDLE BIG MEAT L.A. stud digs C&BT on his big uncut cock and globes. Write to Box #106DS.

BLACK / WHITE / CHICANO SEX, SEX

SEX, SEX No hang-ups on weight, height, size. Over 35 are the best. Experience, willing to give, take, a must. Requirements: Local LA., my place only, Be a M / S., Jestaps, restrs., W / S. boots, raunchy or 7?? A low, dirty, h

CHAINMALE JOCK

Hand designed, all metal lightweight chain, molded for the sensuous fit of body-hugging liquid metal.

SAN DIEGO

Top, 6'3", 195 lbs., 42, complete game room, tubs, chains, rim chairs, stocks, sling, ropes, clamps, collars, cross, cuffs, hoist harness, hoods, movies. dildoes, gags, leather, boots, urinals, video, whips, weights, mirrors, wax, vacuum, colonic. Bill (619)420-8967.

SLAVE WANTED Naked and shackled. Your cock & balls harnessed. My cock shoved down your throat. That's your fate, cocksucker, as my fucking slave. S&M bottoms playing games or looking for heavy abuse, don't waste my time. I want a healthy slave at my feet, not a bloody victim on the rack. The right tight-assed , stiff-pricked, submissive, horny cocksucker under 40 faces discipline regimentation, control and absolute slavery. I'll own you, cocksucker, and I'll mold you into the crawling asshole slave, sextoy, houseboy, and obedient pet I want you to be Inexperienced, boyish, young pup or manly, untrained, macho novice OK. Be prepared to relocate and surrender up your naked ass to demanding, responsible, W / M Leathermaster, 45. Send humble letter and phone number. Do it now, cocksucker!! Box 3862LF

WANTED: BEST SLAVE IN L.A. Applications being taken by two hot professional GWMs-26, 6'3", 190, 31, 150 into leather, rubber, B&D, SM CBT. Must be goodlooking, clean shaven, under 30, no novices, smokers druggies, or fems. Student OK. Health conscious. Photo and resume to Box 211, 8033 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90046. Will be dressed in leather and receive room & board and allowance.

HOT, BUTCH TOP 37 seeks young passive leatherboys for good time. Send photo and phone. Box 4578LF

BODYBUILDER

GWM prisoner needs letters. Computers, college, weightlifting, jogging. Box 4567

NEED HOT, HUNKY, VERY THICK, DARK, HAIRY, MUSCULAR, MASCULINE HORNY TOP STUD

Sit on my face, open my hungry hot receptive hairy hole-wide and deep. Belt my buns, TT, WS. Like huge wide dildos, both big hairy muscular arms. Love to tongue, lick, kiss and eat hot, juicy, hairy holes for hours! Not into really heavy SM, B&D or CBT! Put feet … anywhere! Tongue-clean hairy chest and armpits, ass—want to satisfy my top. Like long, no-holds- barred sessions. Well-trained and experienced. Will try anything. Box 4525LF.

TOILET

San Diego County only. State age. Box 4442

SLAVE DANNY

Will submit to bondage, tortures, shaving, whipping, piercing of armpits & tits. For parties, photos, groups or one Master. (818) 846-9486

HOT BOTTOM IN LONG BEACH WM, 31, 6'1", 170, blond / blue with moustache. Looking for one-on-one with older Master / Daddy who is same size or bigger with moustache and is hot. Hoping for long-term, not one- nighters. Would like gym buddy to work out with. Need someone strong and affectionate. Someone to administer discipline and punishment, fuck and fist my ass and kiss and hold me. If you're the right man there is no limit to how much I'll give. Write: Occupant, 33-2nd Place, Apt. 5, Long Beach, CA 90802 or call (213) 435-4500 between 9:00 A.M. and 11:00 P.M. No JO calls! 4577LF

TWO BLACK HARLEY BIKERS

Tony, in full leather or full C.H.i.P. gear and uniforms with tall, hot black boots; all to be serviced by hot, hung leather studs, any race. Mike, waiting to service hot booted leather studs. We are both hot, well-hung, goodlooking, and into FF, WS, JO, VA, boot service, GB, and offther hot scenes. Have toys, sling, mirrors, and video. Mike and / or Tony; (213) 777-0122. Box 47552, Los Angeles, CA 90047.

HOT SPANKING?

Big hot top, 38, seeks firm buns, the bigger the better. Need a good paddle spanking? Pull down your pants, boy. Jockey shorts, light bondage, dildos, clothespins a turn on. Limits respected. Prefer not fat, under-45 guy. Richard of LA. Box 4636

MYSTERIOUS IN LEATHER, PART Ш

For picture open Drummer issue 84 page 99 under TC 1102. My phantasie is to find a master with whom i can learn the joys and pains of leather bondage humiliation in a permanent relationship with 30-35 caucassian living in Los Angeles. I am a small businessman working hard to succeed so should you ambitious and secure ready to build up a leather relationship. No fat or efiminate Please sir write to TC 1102 Philippe.

UNCUT BODYBUILDER

Hot BB, 31, 5'10", 190 lbs, hung, uncut BI / Blu, moustache, seeks other BBs 20- 45 for hot JO or more. Prefer over 175 lbs. All letters with pic will be answered. Penpals welcome. Box 281, 7869 Santa Monica Blvd., Los Angeles. CA 90046

UNCUT CALIFORNIA

FORESKIN WORSHIP

GM seeks men who like their foreskin worshiped. I am 32, 5'8", 130 lbs., 7\%" cut. Please send photo to: JWR, 2269 Market St., No 112, San Francisco, CA 94114.

FUR & FORESKIN

Husky "bear," 38, lush, uncut, 6-plus inches, wants to meet trim guys, 18-35 for JO, Fr. etc. Foreskin not required! Box 60264, Palo Alto, CA 94306.

UNCUT COCK WANTED

WM, 35, 5'6", 165 lbs., light brown hair, brown eyes, 6" hard, 21 / 2" soft, into small or any size uncut guys with lots of foreskin overhang, or those that shink into themselves. Also into WS, piss games. Would enjoy overnite stays. Like outdoor scenes. Into astrology. USA 264.

FORESKIN FOR 2?

Deprived GWM, 37, 5'10", 170 lbs., bald but with chest hair. Hopes you'll share! Write: Ed, Box 5028, Stanford, CA 94305

NASTY UNCUT DADDY WANTED Are you the kind of Daddy that likes to sit on your boy's face and shove your sit on your boy's face and shove your uncut hose down his throat to take a piss? Sot a beer belly? Hispanic? Hairy white trucker? Want to make him eat the cheese from under your floppy foreskin? Like him to sit between you waiting to hear from his nasty Daddy. USA 271.

EXP FRENCH & TOTAL MASSAGE offered to hairy uncuts who prefer not to reciprocate! 40s, butch face, fem body, S.F. Alan (415) 648-5875. Late ok.

SANTA CRUZ & BAY AREA

GM seeks same for friends, travel, correspondence, and fun. I am 28, lean, blond, cut. Speak French & English. Call Thomas (408) 426-5099.

UNCUT / HANDSOME

Educated GWM with sense of humor, 6'1", 155 lbs., 30s, br hair / eyes, moustache, seeks M; romance, social, friendship. USA 261, (415) 776-7837

UNCUT MODELS FOR FORESKIN II Foreskin authors need you. All ages, types in good shape. Photos or descriptions to: Bud Berkeley, Box 26011, San Francisco, CA 94126. Box

EXTREMELY EXPERIENCED HEAD

MAN Loves uncuts. Weekdays 9 to 4:30pm only. No Sats / Suns / Holidays. Phone No. w / second letter, is wanted. USA 251

LONG SKIN INTO JO

One-on-One, dig watching cuts beat it and skins rolling. SF Bay area. USA 248

THICK COCKHEAD, LOOSE

FORESKIN WM, 46, 5'10", 165 lbs., good body, seeks all into foreskin action. Have darkroom, like porn and JO scenes. Into foreskin stretching. Will experiment. USA 246.

CUT BUT STRETCHING GWM, 32, 5'11", 150 lbs., 41" chest, 28" waist, 8" bodybuilder, Br / Gr, moustache, looking for similar into regaining foreskin and uncuts who are\ninto hot skin action. USA 239.

BIG UNCUT SPERM OOZING

Goodlooking, insatiable Hispanic pumps hot intestines or salivas big urethras. Enjoys Iow, sizable sweetbreads. Knowledgeable! Prefer 6' or ? USA 237

FAT CHEESERS WANTED by cut, slim, goodlooking WM, 30s, br hair / eyes. Prefer husky build Cauc., any age. No cigs or trade. Photo please to: S.L., No. 314, 4670 Hollywood Blvd., L.A. CA 90027.

UNCUT? UNDER 35? WM, 51, 6'2", 185 lbs., cut, wishes to meet you. USA 222.

UNCUT? INTO FORESKIN TYING? Help me with serious research in exchange for sensuous good times! No SM, size, age unimportant. Write: Box 684, Berkeley, CA 94701.

I LOVE DARK, SMOOTH SKIN I'm 30, 155 lbs., uncut 71 / 2", goodlooking redhead. Light complexion and built, You are 18-30 Latin, Puerto Rican, Oriental or Black, sensitive, sensuous and discrete. Write with photo; ladies and couples welcome. Have dinner and

UNCUT SO. CA TOP into foreskin stretching and foreskin fantasies, C / Bs would like to hear from hot men into same. All replies answered. D. Master, USA 530

UNCUT PROFESSIONAL MAN over 50 welcomes letters from any age cut or uncut. Object: affectionate friendship, limited J / O. PO Box 2583, Redondo Beach, CA 90278-8083

INTO VIDEO PRODUCTIONS Chunky GWM in 50s uncut fat dick would like to meet same. Interests: video, antiques, old cars, dogs & clocks. Call Paul (415) 483-2371, 7- 10pm.

HAIRY, HORNY HANDSOME GWM wants dick to play with—especially uncut. Age / looks unimportant. Me: 42, trim, good looks, into hot safe sessions. SF downtown. Joe (415) 474- 3039, late 0K

GWM, 30, 6', UNCUT

Br / br, healthy, honest, goodlooking, wants to meet friends, uncut or cut, any race, or age. Please, photo if possible, thanks! 326 Evergreen Ave., Daly City, CA 94014.

GWM, 44, 6'2", 6%" CUT 170 lbs., seeks "Safe Sex" and possibly more with heavier GWM, 30-60, cut or uncut. I'm a successful professional man. Other interests: Classical music,

PLAYMATES WANTED

Goodlooking, young (21-28), preferably uncut cock wanted by handsome, uncut GWM, 42, into creative fun and games. USA 218.

MUTUAL JO

Interested in meeting guys, especially other uncuts like myself, for mutual J0, maybe more. Ron (415) 752-7268.

ARE YOU YOUTHFUL, BOYISH, UNCUT?

Need friendly relief, no strings? If at least 18, write to: Richard, Box 4052-BG, Woodside, CA 94062.

DIVORCED MAN Lives in rural area of Fairfield (Travis

Air Force Base location). Attractive, straight, but curious. Part American Indian looking for pow wows with other uncut males. Phone weekends (707) 864-0346.

HUNKY HANDSOME WELL-HUNG THICK

Cut, loves foreskin, JO, oral trips. Fr a / p. Into lots of skin and big loads. Hot letter, photo, phone gets same, G.B., Box 11990, Ste. 107, Santa Ana, CA 92711

HOT UNCUT BALLMASTER Hung, trim, 40s, heavy C&BT, pref uncut. C. Johnson, Box 252, Burbank, CA 91503.

UNINHIBITED SHARING

Interested in uninhibited sharing of erotic stimulation of foreskin and shaft. Jerry Jansen, 37A Moss Street, San Francisco, CA 94103.

UNCUT NON-SMOKER SEEKS

SAME 6'2", 170 lbs., 37, dark brown hair, breyes, moustache, like vege gardening, antiques, antique autos, play piano, country-type living. Call Rick (415) 676- 2953.

REDHEAD / BLUE EYES

5'10", 175 lbs., 5" uncut, goodlooking bodybuilder, 35. Like husky WMs, big thighs, small uncut cocks. Suck, JO, fantasies. No fuck / SM. 14711½ Burbank, L.A., CA 91411.

MATURE HUSKY GUY

Wants mutual friends for FS worship and pleasure. Also water sports enthusist. Weekdays, some weekends. Write with details. Enjoy all. USA 187.

BOTCHED CIRCUMCISIONS, SCARS, RESTORATIONS, LONG FORESKINS MY OBSESSION!

Ivan Schroeder, 1453 E. Compton Blvd, Compton, CA 90221.

CIRCUMCISERS NEEDED ACORN Club seeks qualified

SIRcumcisers, any location, must dig our scene: ACORN, 633 Post St., Box 542, S.F., CA 94109.

HEY HUNG GUYS WITH SKINHEADS This mature GWM has keen sense of smell & wet hot suction power for your unwashed, uncut prick, Sir! (213) 465- 6732. Write: Box 6292, L.A., CA 90055.

BEST BJ / EXPERT COCK PLEASER Heavy hung, uncut, mature men only. No fats, fems. Day outcalls only. In SF & S. Marin, write to: D. Boyle, Box 451, Sausalito, CA 94965.

GWM

of / the / contact [×4+] relationship. Send photo letter. USA 648

L.A. CHUBBY, UNCUT, MATURE GWM, 6', 250, 40, 6" cock, nice skin. Fr / a, Gr / p loves older uncut men age 45-85 only. Cuddling to kinky, No size / wt. hangups. Luv U All. CA75. USA 641

HOT, HUNGRY MOUTH White male, 49, 58", 170 lbs., dark blond, blue eyes, masculine and uncut 8" thick cock, Gr / p, Fr / a. Looking for other white or Latin masucline uncut male who is into uncut cock worship. I am very hungry for smelly cock cheese, cum filled heavy balls. Leather & levis, sweaty crotch and jockstraps also turn me on. Please write—photo gets phots. USA 529

GOODLOOKING well-hung man, 30, 6', 165#, 8" handpole. Have true fetish for uncuts, aged 18-49. Interested in phone calls, photo exchanges, meetings for foreskin worship. USA 528

WM, 48, 6' 8" thick cock delightfully covered, gorgeously uncut with soft delicious sliding fully retractable foreskin desires photo exchange experience swapping pensals. I am married bisexual, discrete meeting possible, U

VERSATILE HUSKY GWM, 35 seeks Fr / Gr action with\nuncuts anywhere, especially Latins and Asians. Travel often. Answer all. Tom Lovelace, 5520 Selma, #420F, Hollywood. CA 90028

THE EROTIC PREPUCE:

Stuffing, stretching, pulling, piercing removing? Lets share fantasy and experience. Balls too! Carl Pierce, Box 66032, Stockton, CA 95206.

UNCUT PHALLUS WORSHIPPER Wish to correspond with other uncut phallus worshippers like myself. Experiences and photo if possible, etc.

EXPERT DOCKER

& Foreskin Stretcher: Healthy WM, 38, gives fast head to disease-free men w / fat dick topped with extra long, slimy foreskin. Blind meat ok. (213)

CUT DADDY WANTS UNCUT SON! Are you ready to let Daddy take YOU in hand? Write and lets see what happens! R.H.H., 85 Corwin St., No. 2, San Francisco, CA 94114.

GETTING CIRCUMCISED?

Send me your foreskin or photos of your uncut cock to: Rick, 178 Church #3, San Francisco, CA 94114.

S.F. SATYR

Attractive 28 year old man, 6'1", 200 lbs. 8 thick, uncut inches. Fantasies too hot to print; too exciting to not make real! Jamie, Box 40561, S.F., CA 94140

M.D. WANTED

I am seeking a well-qualified surgeon (M.D.) to do a cosmetic re-circumcision for me. Southern California area only. Any recommendations? Please advise! R.D. Mager, Box 5341, Pasadena, CA

ORANGE COUNTY, CA

Fr a / p, 7" uncut, phone, correspond, photos; bi or gay, (714) 637-6955 before 8am / after 10pm; anytime weekends. Gene S., Box 1427, Orange, CA 92668.

CUT WITHOUT CONSENT seeks to share skin with sensitive, Prefer married, uncut young man. Am attractive, 30 and admirer of cock au natural. USA 523

CUSTOM CIRCUMCISIONS

WM, 6', 180# interested in all aspects of circumcision, especially adults who have had custom circumcisions. Seeks to correspond and meet likeminded men. USA 502

FORESKIN TURNS ME ON

I am cut; not my fault. Have always been turned on by foreskin, so get in touch and make my dream come true. GWM, goodlooking, 6', 175#, hot! (415) 626-9657, Ray

Wants to meet other gym-type dudes. Am 46, 5'11", 176, balding and hairy chest. Bill (619) 283-2099

KNOW WHAT YOU NEED? l do. Seek one man, slim to trim, 25 to 45 years, goodlooking with man smells and tasty uncut hung or thick cock with overhang to please on a regular basis. All scenes with right man. Photo exchange and serious calls to Tom, (415) 285-4196. I am 34, 5'9", 145 lbs. hot, 8" veined, cut, goodlooking and healthy.

MEN WITH FORESKINS WANTED for action in L.A. area-all welcome. Send letter and explicit photo to James Fairchild, 960 N. Larrabee, #122, West Hollywood, CA 90069.

THICK & UNCUT big balls, needs to be worked over by same, J.D., PO Box 3978, Long Beach, CA 90803

WM, CLEAN, UNCUT wants to talk to and meet others of same, Good times and fun—not into SM. USA 516

DEEP MASSAGING THROAT for uncut men needing French service. (415) 563-0528

UNCUT SO. CAL TOP into foreskin stretching and F.S. fantasies, CBs would like top hear from hot man into same. All replies hot man into same. All answered, D. Master USA 530

SENSUAL EUROPEAN

Goodlooking, well-built, Bi, young, trim, masculine, healthy, gentle, very clean, discreete and very selective, hung long, uncut with overhang, extra nong index with overhang, extra long foreskin. Interested in meeting other discreete, healthy unout special with long foreskins or thick or just well-hung or most of all, those cut who appreciate lots of extra foreskin, an trim and very attractive for intellectual as well as long sensual, sexual encounters, loving pursuits. Photo / phone—discretion assured! Boxholder, PO Box 2733, Hollywood, CA 90078

CUT

43-year-old GWM with beard, hairy chest, seeks uncut vacation companion dedicated to exhibitionism, stretching and ??? Write a few words about yourself, interests and what you think makes a great vacation. USA 408.

HOT BOTTOM NEEDS TRAINING HOT BOTTOM NEEDS TRAINING U / C top needed to regularly plow tight bottom. Collegiate, humpy and superhung, 25, 138, 57". Relationship-oriented, sincere. Photo. Please—tell me what you'll do with me. Reply to Database, P.O. 94704

UNCUT NON-SMOKER , 160 lbs, WM 40s wants uncut / cut, 6 hirsute over 35, JO, jocks, leather, other fun. USA 410

(415) 821-9952

DIAL-A-DADDY

PHONE FANTASIES

HOT TOPS HOT COPS TRUCKERS LEATHER MUSCLEMEN UNIFORMS SWEAT - WS JOCK STRAPS BONDAGE / S&M

CREDIT CARDS

Make checks payable to: M.M. & M.M. P.O. Box 421043 / San Francisco, CA 94101

MEN MEN&MORE M

DAD PREFERS MANEATER BEARS Dad is bearded, 45, bald, 5'6", uncut, 6" thick with floppy overhang Attractive, nice guy, smoker, light drinker, like motorcycles, opera, computers, getting my foreskin chewed when hard. (415) 344-6205 early. CA93 USA 404

WELL-HUNG

Recently blinded, heavy into JO, would like to correspond by tape. Can send photo. Write HAL, c / o Bill Braem, 4086 Cody Rd., Sherman Oaks, CA 91403.

BROTHER / DADDY

Handsome, uncut, 42-year-old big brother / daddy seeks young 18-28 preferably uncut little brother / son for mutual JO and creative safe sex and fun. Write: Peter 1522 Fulton, #2, SF, CA 94117

UNCUTS ONLY I', 41, uncut 8", 5'11", 165 lbs., dig piss, cheesy dicks, FF, raunchy jock photos. Box 493, Shingle Springs, CA 95682. 30 minutes from Sacramento.

HAVE LONG THICK FORESKIN Like same and big balls. Send photo and I will do same. Box 104FQ

MARLBORO MAN

42, thick, loose, 81 / 2", hairy chest. Clint, Box E202, 4421 Pacific Coast Hwy, Torrance, CA 90505. Clean, but cheeze on request.

CHEESE REMOVAL SERVICE! Hot, husky WM, 38, wants to sniff and lick that smelly, dirty skin and wash it down with hot piss! Box 31151, San Francisco, CA 94131.

PARTIALLY-CUT WHITE PROFESSIONAL

34, hairy, blond. Into uncircumcised men to like to stretch their skin and spend time together enjoying each others cocks and minds. USA 114.

NEED SIRCUMCISING, SIR! Want to contact others needing it too. ACORN No. 3, 633 Post St. No. 542, San Francisco, CA 94109.

"INFORMED CONSENT"

91 / 2-minute videotape about circumcision shows actual surgical procedure. Send SASE to: Informed Consent, Box 493, Forest Knolls, CA 94933.

REDHEAD

30, wants safe, sleazy skin sex with uncut Dad. Pic gets same. Box 14064, Station G, San Francisco, CA 94114.

HAVE FORESKIN & VIDEO CAMERA

Want to hear from other with homemade videos of their uncut glory. Will trade. Added attractions: shaved crotches, cheese, WS. Set your lens for close up and lets turn each other on. JR, Box 14576, San Francisco, CA 94114.

UNCUTS WANTED

Older GWM wants any race, 18 and up. Write: Meyers, 1946 N. Kenmore, L.A. CA 90027

RESTORED?

Would like to correspond with man who has restored foreskin by stretching or who is in process, USA 274.

DIG NOT UNCUT GUYS Who want to get it on, 1-to-1 basis. Let's talk and MEAT to fulfill our fantasies. Clay (213) 661-0839

HAIRY UNCUTS WANTED

30-year-old wants 25-45 hairy uncuts. I liké foreskin, body hair, másculinity, light SM, verbal domination. Moustache required. USA 267.

PANTING BIG BEAR

__looking for big cub to cuddle, coddle, nuzzle and gnaw. The Bear __ Camden House #34, 6834 Variel, Canogo Park, CA 91303

UNCUT GUY

42, 6', thin, hung, wants weekday JO or WS action with cut or uncut guys. Video, polaroids, etc. Gary, #274, 3963 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90010

BOYISH SMIMMER bottom, 26, 5'7", 118 lbs., half-breed Indian, brown hair / eyes, clean, discrete, voyeur, J / O seeks top for sincerety, playing, eroticism, quiet times, friends_candid photo / letter exchange. J.H., PO Box 60234. Sunnyvale, CA 90488

Uncut, hung average, 5'7", 132, 26" waist, active, live on ranch, love sex w / 1 guy, would like to meet country guy (A-tall-hairy) average looks. Gene, PO Box 128, Santa Ysabel, CA 9277/ Photo gets mijes. 92070. Photo gets mine.

UNCUT ATTRACTIVE DADDY Mid-40s, WM, 5'7", 155#, brown, blue, educated; likes his eager son to slowly clean him from foreskin to asshole, take Dad's hose down his throat, open his asslips wide to gently swallow Dad's hard dick and more! Redheads welcome, other daddies too. Classical music to C&W dancing, homelife, trips to the country, quiet times. Raunchy tastes aspiration, but AIDS aware and out of the fast lane and expect the same. Detailed letter and photo get same. S.F. USA 507

FORESKIN FANATIC COUPLE seek slim stud with thick foreskin and heavy balls for mutual J / O, F / S session. We are both slim, attractive, squeeky-clean and safe. Very healthy. We would love to share our loose uncut, beautiful little dick and gorgeous hairy box and full tits with another proud uncut! Write: Box 147-B, 2339 El Camino Real, Santa Clara, CA

UNCUTS WANTED experienced in stretching by 6', 170 lbs. hairless cut. Phone & photo gets same. Box 103FQ

GWM, 29, PROFESSIONAL, 6', UNCUT

Brown hair / eyes, seeks discreet GWM, uncut, married okay, 28-40, to: Peter Christos, Box 126974, San Diego, CA 92101. Photo if possible. No wierdos.

COLORADO

COLORADO WRESTLER WM, 6', 175#, BB seeks fantasy exchange w / correspondents. Bruiser, PO Box 13502, Denver, CO 80201

TOILET LICKING FAG WM, 25, 5'10", 170, good looking, needs well hung master, 18-40, into verbal abuse, humiliation, spankings, photos, golden showers. Excellent toilet bowl tongue cleaning available. No scat. Will travel. All answered, photo gets mine. Box 4625

NOVICE BOTTOM desired to experience the pains and poleasures of the leather scene. Please send your photo, your scene and your dream. I want to serve you, fulfil your fantasies and worship your beautiful self; take me—I'm yours. Box 4624

GWM 24

6', 175 lbs., brown hair & eyes, full beard, very hairy, would like to correspond and meet with other uncut hairy men to 35. Into most anything but pain & drugs. Your revealing photo gets mine. USA 186.

WM 33

5'8", 135 lbs., balding, good shape, cut, looking for long thick overhangs that come with a nice cock. Like to stretch, pull, suck and be creative with foreskins. Love pecs, too. G / a, F / a&p. Send photo of your overhang, USA 154

KLINEFELTER'S SYNDROME MALE seeks correspondance with cut and uncut men with small balls. Chicano, cut, 5'5", 177 lbs, 4\%", JRA, PO Box 771, Denver, CO 80201

HAIRCUT & CIRCUMCISION

WM, 24, wants to meet goodlooking men, 18-30 into circumcision and / or haircut fantasies. D.L., Box 9761, Denver. CO 80209. (303) 781-5682 anytime.

CONNECTICUT

LEATHER SM BIKER

Looking for bottoms / slaves who knows what leather slavery is and is good at it. Indeed, SM sex, in dungeon and on my bike will train respect limits. Write-enclose photo if you're ready for leather sex. Box 3957LF.

SAFE SM SEX GWM, 55, 5'10", 160 lbs., bald, muscular seeks SM-oriented GWM, 20-40, trim, masculine into bondage, erotic pain (tit / ball torture, whipping), giving and / or receiving. Explore fantasies, expand limits in safe (non-damaging). health conscious way. Photo / phone helpful. Box 4563

KINKY CO-OP PLAY ROOM

Dad has NYC apartment to share full time with one or two dedicated S&M addicts who'd like to contribute to setting up imaginative game space in apartment for mutual enjoyment or individual use. Upper Eastside Building. Convenient and secure. Equal share expenses. Not inexpensive. September. Box 4640

DADDY

28 wants to see his boys get fucked. Looking for older (30-45) fit hairy men for good fun fucking. This SOB has insatiable throat & ass—truckers welcome. Mark 203-232-5450

ATTRACTIVE ATHLETIC VERSATILE guy, German, uncut, 42, masculine top man seeking well-built dude for hot bunfucks, sucking, light bondage, etc. Hot and ready he-men only. PO Box 10141, West Hartford, CT 06110

SLIDING SKIN BY HAND

Your number 1 joy? Skinned back in your briefs? Finger action underneath? Showering? Write all to: Occupant, Box 2071, New Haven, CT 06521

I love to meet guys 18-29. I love to fuck guys, go to bed nude, J / O L / J cock sucks cock, to make love, to fuck Saturday to Sunday 5:30 to 9:00 p.m. USA 508

CIRCUMCISION

Want to hear from any dude turned on by circumcision, especially teen or adult cuts, describing the scar and whether the frenulum was cut. Have just experienced docking—love the feeling. USA 133.

GWM, 5'7", 130 uncut seeks uncut under 35, photo appr not necessary. I am pianist / singer love shows, prefer tall guys, but all OK—cut, too. No one-nighters—friends first. USA 712

JO EHIBITIONIST CLUB Will help start a JO exhibitionist club in lower Fairfield Country, Connecticut. If interested in helping start one or joining, please write to me. USA 101.

DC-METRO

ASS MASTER WANTED

WM 30 bottom into uniforms seeks heavy ass work by Experienced Master in dildos, heavy Greek, and Patient in fisting. Box 4615

NY-DC CORRIDOR LEATHER MAN Will travel for leathered booted top for heavy bondage, hoods, gags, collars, restraints, tits, CB, complete domination-control, harness susp cycles. Other things desired. Tall muscular, beard a plus. No permanent relationship, but regular sessions, threesomes. Write Box #108DS.

BEARDED MASTER

42, 5'10", 165 lbs., hung thick, experienced, understanding. Seeks clean, healthy slaves for long sexual sessions in my fully-equipped "den". All scenes except scat. Novice guys get TLC. I am in the Anapolis-Baltimore-DC area. Letters with photos get answered. Also looking for other good Masters. Box 3893LF.

A MAN

170 lbs. solid muscle, 5'10", 39, dark, bearded. InterChain 226. I am essentially dominant and totally masculine but can be warm, loving, considerate and always sensual. Self-considerate and arways selisual. Sen- contidence based on intelligence, experience, maturity and self- acceptance. Years of residence in Stockholm, Paris, and Berlin have given me European flexibility; am my own man and no Ardent handball enthusiast. Besides FF, am into all sides of Fr, Gr, titwork and mutually satisfying S&M. Like both intense one-on-ones and group scenes. Very health conscious but that doesn't keep me from enjoying life. Sound interesting? Write Bob, PO Box 30651, Bethesda, MD 20814-0651.

UNCUT PREFERRED

GWM, 31, 5'11", 185 lbs., hairy, uncut teddy bear, beard & moustache, seeks other men, prefer uncut, for mutual enjoyment. Call (202) 544-7097 before midnight only

UNCUT WM

7", mid-50s, 6', seeks mature men who are genuine cock-worshippers and who worship balls and have big bags. Foreskin sniffing, chewing, cheese, long sucking, licking, pissing, JO. Will swap foreskin photos / talk raunchy cock and balls with men everywhere. Beer-lovers / beer-guts welcome. USA 118.

WANTED

Attractive guys with good bodies. This circumcised guy wants to play with your generous foreskin. I find foreskins to be the hottest, most attractive part of the male equipment, although there are other parts that are very very hot also. Let's get together so we can both enjoy your skin! USA 170.

FLORIDA

"THE SARGE"

33, 6 ft. 155 lbs., short brown hair, clean-shaven, goodlooking, fun lovin' leatherman. Lookin' for a few good men. If you are muscular, defined, clean and together, a man who takes care of another man if you've with care of another man, if you've got the spirit, maybe you can join my corps. Sarge is top, but always welcomes correspondence from other tops. Send a picture for an answer. C'mon, don't be shy. Now stand at ease and start writin'. Box 4526LF

DEAR SIR-WHERE TOPS AND BOTTOMS COME TOGETHER!

SLAVE NEEDS INSTRUCTION

Slave with little experience looking for Master who can provide proper training. Slave is 35, 5'11", 200 lbs., blond, blue eyes. Into doing Master's wishes. Limitations: No drugs, scat, piercing or marks. Please, Sir, train me to serve you. Box 4461LF

HAIRY, HUNG DADDY

HAIRY, HUNG DADDY seeks Slaveboy / Daddy's Boy for possible permanent relationship. Daddy is 49, 510, hairy and hung bip. Boy is younger (but legal age), smooth, with a big uncut dick and low hangers. Boy must be obedient, e

GEORGIA

SIRI

This Atlanta slave awaits your discipline and orders. I am 33, 5'9", 140 lbs. and need your help and training. please Sir. Box 4409LF

BOOT WORSHIPPING SLAVE WM, 27, 60°, 180 lb. slave. Sir. this southern boy needs to worship you and your boots, Sirl Sir This boy is into WS, shaving, BD, SM, TT, and rush play, Sirl Dominant Master needed please write, Sir

BODYBUILDER / MASTER / DADDY seeks young individual to be dominated in a variety of scenes. Photo required and letter of introduction. Rewards for good service. Write to Box #112DS

WANTED: FULLTIME SLAVE by heavy S&M Master. Must be submissive, obedient, intelligent, and healthy. Must be under 40, under 6 ft, under 165 lbs. Must relocate for training for sexual and domestic duties. Send application with photo. Box 4631

ATTRACTIVE, CREATIVE intelligent, 29-year-old, white male, cut, looking for uncut man over 30 who wants a lasting, loving, monogamous relationship. Box 101FQ

CUT BUT. . 175, 38-yrs, goodlooking, professional, stable. Am healthy, into J / 0, safe sex, affection. Seek WM, masculine, goodlooking, no smoke, drugs. Mark (404) 872-1045

GWM 30 Handsome, dark hair, moustache, blue eyes, 511°, 160 lbs., muscular, 7″ uncut and versatile. Seeks man, 28-40, muscular, uncut and well-endowed Write: Box 54322, Atlanta, GA 30308.

KINKY COUPLE Top: 6'3", 8%" uncut. Bottom: 5'4", 24, 7" cut into uncut men and those who like\nuncut men. (404) 523-2564. No J / O calls!

SKINPIX

Collector wants photos of uncut cocks. Exchange possible. Am 31, 6', 150, 8" GWM w / 1-in. overhang. Age, size unimportant. Sent to "GA14 in FF listing.

SEARCHING FOR A HOT DADDY? FIND HIM IN DEAR SIR!

MASC BI RANCHER Slender, hairy, 39, 9x5½" cut, wants meetings, letters, photo exchange with masculine uncut, 18-50, CTJ, Box 1782, Americus, GA 31709, Clint (912) 924- 4038 weekdays, 8-5.

GWM, 30 handsome, dark hair, moustache, blue eyes, 5'11", 160 lbs., muscular, 7" uncut and versatile. Seek man 28-40 muscular, uncut and well-endowed. Write Orion, 1445 Monroe Dr. NE, Apt. C- 24, Atlanta, GA 30324

HAWAII

29, SINGLE & UNCIRCUMCISED

Looking for women who are interested in giving head. I have a very long (2' overhang) foreskin; my skin is loose and full of large, bulging veins that love suction. B.S., 95-269 Waikalani Dr., 501C, Wahiawa, HI 96786.

ILLIMOIS

GET YOUR FANTASIES FULFILLED Chicago Master 43, 63°, 190¢ with well-equipped Dungeon / Playroom including sling wants submissive slaves or bottoms for obedience training, bondage, humiliation, paddling, C&B work, SM, exhibit accepted. Race no problem. Will be Drummer Dad to deserving young studs. Also require occasional services of slave to maintain & care for leather toys and playroom and to perform miscellaneous tasks. Send photo if possible to: PO Box 2630, Chicago, IL 60690.

COCK & BALL TORTURE Sadist seeks trim slaves for strict bondage, whipping, and cock & ball torture. You will be bound spread-eagle subjected to prolonged slapping, twisting, squeezing, whips, weights and wax, intense but s take it send letter with photo and phone to Box 4588

CHICAGO BM UNCUT 7", 59", 190 wants to meet 22-40 year old WM. Must be masculine. Like\nuncut, but cut 0K, too J / O, oral, anal__others OK. C. Johnson, PO Box 578074, Chicago, IL 60657-8074

MATURE MASTER wants casual encounters. You must be between 18 and 40, short, slim, well-defined and know what to expect and what is expected. Blacks and Orientals especially welcome. Contact: R. Smrt, Suite 134, 8827 Ogden Ave., Brookfield, IL 60513

MATURE MALE MASTER white, seeks slaves and submissives for casual sessions. Not interested in to casual sessions. Not interested in teacher role, dopies, drunkies, or leather queens. Want men 18-50, white or Oriental who are healthy, in good shape, well-set-up and know the score. Prefer between 51" and 60" and 130

FORESKINS WANTED GWM, 30, cut, wishes to service your foreskin—any size or shape—Hispanics especially—the more skin the better. Steve, PO Box 110, 2520 N. Lincoln Ave., Chicago, IL 60614

CHICAGO UNCUTS

GWM seeks masculine uncuts with plenty of skin to explore. Prefer men over 30. especially Greeks, European men, Puerto Ricans. Am 31, 5'11" and ready to serve you. No fats, fems, drugs. USA 615

BLACK MALE age 55, uncut, weight 150 lbs, 5'8" would love cut or uncut dicks for very would live cut of intertralics for very discret one-to-one J / O exhibitionism, sucking only. Orients dicks also. Must be 50 or over. Answer with phone / photo. No drugs, smoke—just clean J / O. USA 512

BIG T.V. QUEEN Loves skin, the longer the better. Cheese, raunch, WS, wants to try whole scene, rim tool Let me worship your skin like it's never been done before. USA 273.

OUR SELECT SAYS IT A

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7865 Balboa Kearny Mesa, CA 292-8083

1141 3rd Avenue Chula Vista, CA 585-3314

$25

TOPMAN

42, 5'11", big gut, long skin wants cocksuckers who know how to handle it. Hairy men prefered. Bondage, tit, C / B work, etc. possible. DM, Box 6592, Chicago, IL 60680

HANDSONE & UNCUT WM, 36, 5'11", 135 lbs., brown hair, brown eyes, 7%" uncut, handsome, trim and very clean, hard body, big balls. Seeks other goodlooking WM, 18-45 for Seeks omer goodhooking with, re-ab or long, hot 1-no-1 or group JO sessions. Must be discrete, clean, good body. Tit stimulation, hairless body are a plus. No Fr. Gr. fats, fems. Sth, or drugs please. Married & bi's welcom

'YOUNG" OLDER GUY I'm an intellegent, well read, "young" older guy, 50, enjoy erotic correspondence. Meetings possible, Countless male magazines to share, Oral active or passive. USA 258.

UNCUTS WANTED

Want to hear from and meet other men that are uncut. Have never seen a skin that was a turn off, Find "all" skin a turn on. Like the look, smell, and taste of skin. Long, slow mouth and tongue action. Travel. Photo exchange! USA 211.

CHICAGO SKINHEADS

Let my tongue remind you what you've got! I'm 30, 6', 180 lbs., ready and willing to service that sweaty overhang. Hispanic especially overhang. Hisp welcome. USA 140

UNCUT OLDER MAN

Am masculine, hairy, 7"; like younger, uncut, especially Oriental and Latino. Want action, not talk. Fem okay. USA 137.

CUT EXPERIENCE

Young man was cut in late teens seeks correspondence and dialogue with others who have had similar experience. USA 283.

NEAR NORTH CHICAGO

Uncut blond, blue eyes, 30, desires to make contact with uncut men, 30-40. Lets have dinner and cocktails to decide if we should pursue matters further, USA 111.

MAN WITH LOTS OF FORESKIN Seeks men with or without skin. You must be into foreskin, Please call or write. (312) 459-3168. USA 279

INDIANA

BOTTOM NEEDS TOP Submissive WM, 38, 5'8", 13:

135 lbs. brn / blu, moustache, 61 / 2 cut, seeks older Partner for periodic service. Photo / phone appreciated. Bottom lives in S.W. Indiana, Boxc 4641

CUT GWM

50, trim seeks stocky uncuts for mutual fun in South Bend. Art (219) 288-2015

100 INDIANAPOLIS 42, 6', 185 lbs., 7' uncut floppy of dick. Foreskin lover seeks big uncut cocks for mutual cock worship. Turns on to natural cock aroma. USA 244.

BONDAGE SLAVE anxious to serve. WM, 160, 5'101 / 2" tall, with some limited experience is anxious to be put into your control and to perform services which my master demands. Also interested in initiation experiences either by myself or with other initiates. Am not into FF or electric shock, but would expect strong discipline for master's pleasure. Can travel on weekends in Northern and Central Indiana, or even West Central Ohio. Would also be interested in prisoner scenes, being used as an animal, and dungeon experiences. Discretion essential, Box 4475LF

COUPLE MID-40'S

Very attractive, professional degrees, seek uncut, educated, attractive males for threesomes, etc. She loves heavy. lengthy foreskin overhang. Any race welcome. Can travel. Discretion a welcome. Can travel. Discretion a must. Photo of long foreskin appreciated. Name and address, as possible, and telephone. Write: Joe & Kay, USA 182.

SW INDIANA BOTTOM NEEDS TOP WM, 38, 5'8", 135, cut, brn / blue, moustache, seeks older, bigger moustache, seeks older, bigger Top / Master to service, SM, CBTT, FF, WS, Teach me—Train me to serve, Hot mouth, hungry ass eager to please you! Box 4536

CHICAGO DAD 41. 5'10", 165#, fit, professional seeks novice young men for hot sessions. Into leather and discipline, but no heavy SM. Firm but gentle. Write to Box #107DS.

KANSAS

UNCUT VIDEOS

Would like to find source of videos with lots of uncut action, i.e., auto / solo, docking, infibulating, E.E. Baughman, Box 527, Winfield, KS 67156

KC / TOPEKA AREA Blond, blue eyes, 6', 170, GWM, uncut, 30s, would like to meet guys under 30 in my area for good times and friendship. Box 102FQ

HAIRY CHESTED WM wants nude photos of guys with large cocks with long foreskins. Must have 8" or more and have hairy chest. Love nudism, exhibisionist. USA 266

LOUISANA

MOTORCYCLE COP

New Orleans, WM, 30, 6', 165, LF4458, seeks WM into the smell, taste, feel of hot black leather. There is no such thing as too much black leather: tall black leather boots, breeches, gloves, chaps, jeans, jackets, belts, caps. Prefer to be bottom, but versatile. Also into toys. My breeched ass works on a HD by days, and I ride a V65 Magna at night in leather. Also have Kawasaki Ninja and am heavy into motorcycles and motorcycle gear, runce and gear also, into BD, SM-light to and gear also, into BD, SM-light to heavy scene, action only. Cigar smoker. Phone JO ok. Call (504)282- 0729, PO Box 57161, New Orleans, LA No novices, If you aren't dedicated to leather, call someone else.

FORESKIN STRETCHING

Active foreskin stretcher seeks to exchange foreskin stretching techniques with others. Have foreskin stretching device. Mark Waring, 2301 Severn Ave., Suite A-312, Metairie, LA 70001

GOODLOOKING GWM

23, 5'10", 150 lbs., with big uncut cock, is looking for other guys with hanging foreskin for sex and / or friendship. Must be 18-35, goodlooking and hung. No fats, fems, SM or drugs. Photo of body (foreskin close up) gets mine, really get off to foreskin! USA 178.

MATURE UNCUT MASTER

Brown hair, blue eyes, wants to meet only available uncircumcised beefy slaves or other SM couples for exchange. New Orleans area. (504) 943- 9875 evenings only to 11pm.

MARKER

MASTER SEEKS SLAVE / SON Previous experience not necessary. Live-in relationship possible. Looking and tell me what you are looking for All letters answered (LF4459). PO Box 2186, South Portland, ME 04106

MARYLAND

FORMING USA CLUB

Anyone interested in forming USA Club in Metro area (MD, DC, VA), contact Tom (301) 336-1514

GWM, 33, 5'11" 175 lbs., goodlooking, built, cut. These are a few of my favorite things: Loose pendant prepuces, chewable dockable foreskins, chest hair, and solid virile men. USA 119

WASHINGTON DC SKIN Uncut, Bi-Wm, 38, aggressive, nice looking, divorced father seeks similar masculine guys to 45. Prefer uncut. Into Gr, WS, kink. Rick (301) 948-4853. wish to meet and correspond with uncircumcised males to share experiences or more, also cut males about fantasies of restoration and stretching and piercing of foreskin and what is left of skin. Also meet MD's about restoration and cutting methods. USA 194

MASSACHUSETTS

HELLS ANGEL 29. seeks others. 5'9". 175. Turk, Box 665, Avon, MA 02322

TIGHT LEVIS / BLACK LEATHER W 5'10° 28 tight body, good looks. Into leather, snug levis, hefty boots. Seek wild, rugged, young dudes and leatherjacketed punks to horse-around, party.

Hey studs, let's roll around, bulging crotches, tight black leather pants / faded levis, cycle jackets, gauntlet gloves. Let's cruise late at crotches. night on our motorcycles. Sane, straight acting, discreet, masculine guy. Photo decked out in leather gets mine. Will correspond. DIRK. Suite 346, 2 Vernon Street, Farmingham. MA 01701 (LF3994)

BLACK LEATHER and BONDAGE WM, 27, 6'1", 185 needs booted, gloved, wm, 27, 61, 183 needs booted, gloved, arrogant Leather Master for dog training, humiliation, heavy VA and heavy bondage (gags, hoods, collars, cuffs, etc.). Send me your orders, Sir, and I will obey. Complete discretion re

TOTAL LIVE-IN SLAVE

Dad and Son want a GWM approx. 6' tall, 170 lbs., slim body, no facial hair, who is ready to relocate immediately to who is ready to relocate immediately to a small lown and live in a large house. You will do house and yard work, but will not work a job. We will support our slave. We are into leather, rubber, SM. B&D. TT. shaving and W.S scat. For initial contact, call (413) 267- 5278 before 10 P.M. Eastern time. We are ready, are you? A doctorate in slavery is not required. LF4247

RUBBER

Boston, 31, submissive, into hip boots, gas masks, all types of rubber scenes. Seeking others into rubber. Photo please! Box 4494

INDEPENDENT BOTTOM

Boston area, seeks a mature (35-plus) Top, who wants the willing service of an intelligent, thinking and bottom into bondage, discipline, WS, raunch, and uniforms. I'm 40, 5'11", 170, blond, clean-shaven, smooth body, cut. Ultimate goal is a healthy dominant- subordinate relationship involving the intellect, spirit and body. Sir, let's explore the possibilities. Reply to Box 4474LF. All replys will be answered.

SADIST seeks serious masochists only. F / F, W-S are mandatory. GWM, 40s, 5'10", 160#, WGC, Box 211, 104 Charles Street, Boston, MA 02114

BIG STINKIN' CHEESY UNCUT

Handsome, light tan dude with hard- muscled, dirty, sweaty, unwashed body, hung, filthy feet. The real thing— Tonguebath Heaven. Name is Jet: 63", 170#, 38, topman. You: in-shape, ditty, sweaty volum (18, 170H. 38, topman. You: in-shape, muscular, dirty, sweaty young (la-plus) hung, uncut, cheesy, hungry pig. Slease addicts only. Best cheese and toe jam around. Expert. (617) 536-1272, PO Box 504, Back Bay Annex, Boston, MA

MASS—SPRINGFIELD Dom G., PO Box 4260; Springfield, MA 01101. 02 / 14 / 50, White Roman Catholic, 5'8', 250 (at Present) 44 waist, brown hair / eyes, beard / moustache, dark complexion. I love uncut. Seek warm tender caring manner. warm tender caring man (not fem). Prefer blond hair / blue eyes, younger if possible. I am most concerned about disease. Seek someone with same concern. I have not been involved in 4 years, So am very clean. Seek honest & loving. Your photo gets mine.

INTO SKIN WORSHIP?

Help me chew, suck, stretch and worship my 39-year-old lover's sensational long thick skin. PO Box 8, 645 Beacon St., Boston, MA 02115

WM 34 WANTS TO SUCK 1st COCK Divorced, slim, uncut 7° seeks cut or uncut for long suck sessions. JO to videos—likes beer piss. TV's welcome. Will answer all. USA 701

UNCUT A MUST Would like to meet with other uncuts

40s and younger, waspy type, hispanics, orientals, but most of all must be straight appearing. USA 509

OOKING FOR LOVE

Lonely GBM, 6'4", 170 lbs., wants a man to love. My sign is Cancer, I'm quiet, very sensitive, love to cuddle, kiss and make love. Am versatile, can be top, but prefer bottom. If interested please write. Will answer all. Photo if possible. Mass, area please give phone number and time I can call. James. USA 300.

COCKSUCKER

Gets hot stretching and chewing foreskin, watching uncut hose piss JO. TT, WS, ball stretching with weights, indoors and outdoors. Am 34, 6'2", 185 lbs., brown hair, muscular, 8" cut. Photo gets same. Travels the U.S. USA 169

NICELY CUT AT AGE 10 and enjoy it. Wish to meet and / or correspond with others who are pro-circ . Wish to alliliate with Acorn. Exchange VHS tapes, etc. Box 262.

WM, 34, UNCUT

Will pose nude for photo, also exchange photos. Like TT, C&BT, JO, Fr / a. Write with photo. Frank S., Box 231, Natick, MA 01760.

UNCUT AFFECTIONATE DADDY

Butch, versatile, likes other guys, middle-age or youthful, with some preference for uncut. Box 504, Avon, MA 02322.

GWM

35, 5'9", 140, trim well-built, masculine seeking same 20-40, for Master / slave Seeking same co-ro. To master slave relationship. Would like to be examined in my skin-tight levis and T-shirt with white Hi-top Nikes, bound at wrists hanging from ceiling. Paddle my tight ass in levis, then strip me, tor cock and balls with leather straps, then shave my masculine cock hairs till I'm bald. Shave my ass cheeks until they're smooth. Keep me hard for hours until my Master makes me cum. Box 4405LF

NEBRASKA

INTERNATIONAL UNCUTS 25-45 Wm bodybuilder, 38, seeks L / L uniforms, jocks, truckers, contruction workers, etc. Enjoy WS, SM, L / L, B&D, JO, Exhibit. Letter with photo. No fats, blacks, fems. USA 227

NEW HAMPSHIRE

SLAVES WANTED TO BE TRAINED Looking for submissive GMs 18 to 30 for on-location training in good sexual service by 39-year-old master slave trainer. Must be willing to travel. Write: Paul Emery, P.O. Box 477, Intervale, NH 03845 or phone Sir (603) 356-6101.

UNCUT HANDSOME BEARDED GWM

7" brown hair, blue eyes seeks bearded uncut / cut men Fr / ap. Be clean-not sleazy. Bud. PO Box 7214, Heights Station, Concord, NH 03301

NEW JERSEY

PLEASE BE MY DADDY GWM, 31, 6'1", 152, blond hair, blue eyes seeks versatile older man in Jersey & NYC for hot times / friend/ daddy. Must be honest and no fats or fems. Please write. Send photo if possible. Reply to Larry Schwartz, 608 Newark Ave. #4, Jersey City, NJ 07306

WANTED: SLAVE ME: MASTER is 45, 6'2", 195 lbs., brown hair (getting a little thin top), brown eyes, hairy body, quiet type, straight acting and appearing, good sense of humor, not into games or fantasy trips.

Own home in Own home in country in Northern New Jersey. Enjoy working a good body. Used to own my own private photography business specializing in bodybuilders, musclemen, MASTERS and their slaves, so I know what a good body is. Muscles are a plus, but not a necessity. I am not a bodybuilder myself, but appreciate that type of body. Into computers, slaves and taking care of my house. YOU: slave, late 20s to late 30s, quiet type, straight acting and appearing, well behaved (important), no nonsense type who knows his place. You must have a warm mouth that likes to be filled with warm meat. Enjoy wearing some leahter: body harness, cock and ball harness, etc., and understand the meaning and value of discipline. Not into drugs of any type. If you can not get it on yourself and / or with help from me, I am not interested. No problem if you are not fully trained. If you want to learn, I will take the time to train you. Live in the vicinity of Northern New Jersey. WANT: Service and a good time, but a quiet time, in and out of bed for weekends with the possibility of having you move into house on a permanent basis. Box 291LF

UNCUT HANDSOME BEARDED GWM

7" brown hair, blue eyes seeks bearded uncut / cut men Fr / ap. Be clean-not sleazy. Bud, PO Box 7214, Heights Station, Concord, NH 03301

NEW MEXICO

Over 2" long and nation

Over 2" long and getting longer and longer. Glad to tell "all", how it can be done. Write for information. USA 259.

NEW YOR

YOUNG UNCUT TOOL WANTED Let me service you with my hot wet tongue. Send photo / phone for fast action. USA 503

BANTAM ROOSTERS WANTED! Attractive "hawk," white, nice body, seeks cocky studs (at least 18) any race, slim and dominant! Let me serve you—WS, scat, French, Greek, spanking! No convicts or J / Os. Box 84 Downstairs, 132 West 24, NYC 10011

COPS

Hot, 29, 5'8", 140, athletic, handsome, masculine, healthy, looking for uniformed cops for fantasy and worship. Box 354, NY, NY 10108

TOTALLY JADED

39, 170 lbs., blond / green, 8" cut, hot, hung, horny and into everything you can imagine (4557LF). PO Box 9152, 600 West 58th Street, New York, NY

KINKY pervert seeks big devil dick to worship. I'm GWM, 36, 160 lbs., hung 9" cut, short dark hair, beard & moustache. Into kinky scenes with wild guys. Photo / phone gets mine. PO Box 1351, NYC 10023

WANTED: FAT MASTER

Goodlooking, muscular WM, 27, 5'11" wants to serve goodlooking macho ex-jocks who are fat and like it. VA, domination, humiliation. Cigar and beer drinkers a plus (212) 580-8049

MACHO TOP

I'm a mid-50s macho top, with a mid- 40s body and a mid-30s mind, looking for a macho man who needs care and affection and is willing to commit himself to creating a mutually rewarding relationship. Must also be willing to share mutual trust whether it involves sexual limits, finances or friends. I am 155#, 5'10", medium-hairy, muscular and athletic, sensuous, dominant, sexually experienced and versatile and uncloseted, so am not looking for a "discreet" relationship. I also happen to like bars, baths, raunch and responsibility. I have never had any STD's and am AIDS negative and medically knowledgeable. Professionally I am a scientist, financially secure and can support you fully within limits, but expect you to have motivation and a rational purpose in life or be willing to let me help you find one. Your facial features, physical condition and emotional maturity are important to me, so please send a recent photo. My last lover was a model, but that's not a requirement. I do expect you to be sincere, honest and to respect yourself and your body, and to be willing to make yourself important to me. I haven't mentioned leather, but I wouldn't advertize in Drummer if that were unimportant. Box 4520LF.

Would like party with several Latin guys with real long foreskins. USA 513

WHEN IN DOUBT. call (212) 570-9740. The heart is big-the rest is fate-the name is Jeffrey.

WANTED: MARLBORO MAN Short, mature, well-built, GWM BB, 8"

8076

UNCUT LOVER OF OPERA and classical music, mid-thirties, would like to meet similar for sex and music. Call (718) 544-6933, Steve NYC

NEED SKIN & ROUGH ACTION Admire skin, especially during WS. Possible commitment to abusive-type top. Am cut, 38, GYM, good job. J. Patrick, Box 16, 314 West 52nd St., New York, NY 10019.

FAT SHAVED BALLS

15" around on 6'2", 180 lbs., serious vacuum pumper w / skin for stretching. Box 221, New York, NY 10028. Photo w / phone only. Write!

STUD vs. STUD wrestling / fighting, WM, 6', 185 lbs., 29, extremely good-looking, blond, blue eyes, muscular stallion, LF4407. Looking for other hot, muscular studs into wrestling / fighting for top. Winner takes all-looser gets fucked long and hard. Looking for men who are 21-45. hard. Looking for men who are 21-49.

Top, GLO, willing to lay their ass on the line in wrestling in fighting, ball typ-dr-wars, cock fights and other combat for hot, hard matches and other combat for hot, hard matches lea with balls tied together and other hot. hard combat that leads to sex. No bottoms need apply, only looking for serious fighters. Black bodybuilders/ wrestlers and muscular hispanics can try…if they think they can handle it. Still waiting to meet the man I can't beat. Wanna wrestle? Located outside New York City; visitors / challengers welcome. Write with picture to : M.S., P.O. Box 712, Kings Park, NY 11754.

MID-HUDSON VALLEY

Masculine, bearded master 33, 6', 160 lbs, with hot dungeon and thick cock will restrain you and explore your limits if you're hot, trim and under 35. Reply with photo and phone #. J. Miller POB 3086, Kingston, NY 12401. (LF4092)

FF TRAINER WANTED NYC WM, 33, 57", 140, slim. Seek a trim, experienced FF Top to train my novice ass and make it a huge hole for double- fisting and giant dildoes. Box 4046LF.

FIREMEN / RUBBER

Let's turn on the hose. Fireman looking for same in rubber turnout gear, 40s, 5'8", uncut. Write with picture to P.O. Box 222, Brooklyn, NY 11202.

MEDICAL SCENE ENEMAS GIVEN Complete physical w / total rectal/ genital exam leads to repeated enemas. Catheterization available. You are young, not, builkt. Describe your fantasy in detail. Phone / photo equals reply. Box 4638

WANTED: BIG JUICY COCK

Loose foreskin, oral & JO pleasure. Send photo & phone to: Box 277, Times Sq. Station, New York, NY 10108. You won't be disappointed!

UNCUT MASTER

40, 5'11", 160 lbs., seeking slaves for piercing, chewing, nailing, sewing and padlocking of the foreskin. Into all forms of SM. All fantasies realized. Ken Bender, 4292 Belmont Dr., Liverpool, NY 13088.

UNCUT DADDY

Looking for young men to enjoy good times with JO, French and more. I'm 28, 240 lbs., 6', sincere, intelligent and can laugh. Box 198, Rensselaer, NY 12144.

HANDSOME GWM BODYBUILDER Blond / blue eyes, 26, love foreskin, am cut, thick, Gr / a, Fr a / p. You are uncut with excessive skin. Pref Puerto Rican. Italian, smooth, slim, 20-40, discrete Photo, 124-28 Queens Blvd., St. 564, Kew Gardens, NY 11415.

TALL DARK HANDSOME

30, hairy legs, strong, smart, horny, seeks gentle, uncut guy for good clean Like new music, exercise, tun: laughing. No drugs. Photo & phone get same. USA 215.

PARTIALLY CUT Hairy 45 year old, 170 lbs., 6', partially cut, is interested in other uncut men who like hot foreskin action with another man who really knows what to do with a foreskin. Long, snug foreskin with cheese a plus. Call Duke (212) 369- 9645

SLAVE SEEKS STERN MASTER who is experienced, sane but firm. Into TT, CBT, mouthwork. Needs stretching on asswhipping, hot wax. Can travel NYC upstate weekends. Box 4627

ASS LICKER available for individuals or groups. Anybody over 30. Also cocksucking. NYC only. Phones get faster reply. Box 323, NYC 10023

HOT MUSCULAR BOTTOM

ATT MUSCULAR BOTTOM 31.58", 140, great lits, hole, needs to be\nused as sextoy by healthy, muscular top (or group). Ever wanted to take a clean-cut guy, get him stoned, and do all those nasty things to I am that guy, Anythi

WHIPPING

Tall, moustached, X-college athlete needs a trip to your woodshed. Make my butt burn. Photo. Travels surrounding states. Box 4586

ARE YOU MAN ENOUGH? Hot, hairy, NYC jock, 39, 5'10", solid 160, into man-to-man, heavy body contact, face punching and verbal action between 2 raunchy jock-filled studs. Also spit, hairy pits and pecs. Wants a man who gives what he takes. Photos answered first. Box 4573LF

SCORE YOURSELF

Are you: 1)Young: 2)goodlooking; 3)muscular; 4)healthy; 5)submissive; 6)obedient? Are you prepared for: 7)Slavery; 8)training; 9)punishment; 10)two tall; goodlooking blond men in their 30e. Machar and bland Atlant their 30s-Master and slave? Add one point for each YES. If you score a 10, send details for each YES accompanied by recent photo for verification of first three questions. Extra points will be given for essay detailing additional qualifications. Box 673LF.

IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE?

WM, 42, discreet, sincere, LF4471, cut seeks licenced surgeon, especially Hispanic, any age / race in the Tri-State Area to lengthen piss slit, enlarge tits / nipples, implant multiple piercings (tits / nipples, cock, balls, ass, "tang belly) and catheterization to remain for days, plus extensive urological, days, puls extensive triorigical exams, cystoscopic, protological exams, steriod and estrogen therapies. Anesthetic possibilities optional. Have adequate health insurance and am prepared to pay privately, if necessary sac reduction, rectal enlargement and severe recircumcision. Contact experimental "animal" at (516)285-5181, 9 PM—7 AM, Mon—Fri, and 24-hours weekends. Write Boxholder, Box 3092, Grand Central Station, New York, W. 10012 Disease St. Indicates NY 10017. Please call, doctor-your slut needs this

MAN-TO-MAN

Masculine bodybuilder, 32 years, 45 chest, 32 waist, solid, hard muscled. big arms & pecs, dark hair, moustache, Italian, masculine and straight appearing intelligent and sensitive wants to meet dominant no-nonsense take charge man into manly physical action and intense mental and emotional exploration. Extremely health-conscious. Our physical and emotional limits expanded. Nick PO Box 1350, Jackson Heights Stn, New York, NY 11372. (LF4020)

FUCK THIS FACE deep-throat sexpert seeks heavy-hung for regular oral action, no reciprocation Out-of-towners welcome Condoms, poppers OK. Has another Fr / a buddy for 3-ways, if desired. Send photo and description of needs to: FOX, P.O. Box 20036, New York, NY 10129.

FORESKINS WANTED

By hot, hung, young, trim, cut man, mild to raunchy scenes. Alex (212) 989- 9748.

GWM 44

5'10", 160 lbs., brown / blue, moustache, into leather, working out, jockstraps, 7" thick, covered glans. Seeks same for cock worship. Neil, Box 645, New York, NY 10008. (212) 538-0690.

GAY WHITE MALE

Seeks uncircumcised Hispanics or Blacks with heavy foreskins for mutual fun. Come, let me fulfill my wildest fantasies. NYC. USA 143.

HUNG 91 / 2" AND 6" AROUND Want to meet well-hung uncut with long foreskin and a good imagination. USA 134

38 YEAR OLD IRISH 6', looking for rich, elderly man, monogamous, I will relocate and be a honest friend, (212) 567-6683.

BIG OVERHANG / HARD OR SOFT Seek serious foreskin game players, uncut or cut. One-on-one or groups. Wm, 5'9", 170 lbs. Box 1858, N.Y., NY 10185.

GOODLOOKING GWM

Mid-30s, looking fro same or younger for casual evening or possible relationship. Wide variety of likes and hobbies. Very health conscious. Hoping for uncut response. USA 107.

GWM, 6'2", blond, 175 lbs. seeks GWM or light Hispanic males for tun or relationship. Call (718) 424-1064 or write Box 535, Elmhurst, NY 11373.

UNCUT

WM offers and desires friendship, unhibited versatile sex with uncut or cut any age, any race. Box 115, Jefferson, NY 12093.

BODYBUILDER SEEKS SPONSOR 33, 5'10", 155 lbs, 45C, 16A, hung-thick. Seeks older, submissive, generous sponsor, any area. Pix available. P.O. Box 585, Palisades, NY 10964

LEATHERMASTER / DADDY BARBER AND BONDAGE EXPERT seeks healthy WM slave / sons for training / use / abuse. Intense administration of heavy bondage and strict discipline, SM Leatherworship. Service Patrol Boots well and get special attention. Required for reply: photo, phone, respectful letter. address. Box 4616

BIG MEAT NEEDS CONSTANT ATTENTION

If you can't get enough of the sight and feel of a heavy, veiny prick overhung with thick folds of juicy skin, I'm the guy for you. My prize wants to fill your gagging throat, nurse, nuzzle and drool over my long loose skin, I'm waiting for your greedy service. USA 517

COCKY ENOUGH?

You are in-shape, uncut and cocky enough to tell an in-shape cut about it. NYC late nights begin with my call. Maybe we meet maybe not. Send photo / phone to USA 707

8"-6" THICK-BIG VEINS w.M., 42, 5'10", 162, uncut, 8", 6" thick, big veins, big balls, enjoys hot J / O one- on-one or group. Nude photo exchange. J.G., Suite F-16, 444 Hudson St., NY, NY 10014

нот моитн

For long foreskins, likes clean sessions to work them over; I know how to work on long or short, thick or slim skins or those with piercings or phimosis. NYC, avg hunk, 160 lnbs., 5'9", brown hair, blue eyes, warm personality. Tony Collins, Boc 6969 FDR Station, New York, NY 10022.

FORESKIN: THREE INCHES!

Looking for other uncuts into skin games hot GWM, 5'6", 130 lbs., 38, nice body. Photo of foreskin, R.B., 444 Hudson No. 133, New York, NY 10014. (SEE PHOTO)

PATIENTS WANTED

For medical scene experiments, foreskin stretching a specialty. Also complete range of catheters available. USA 179

2" LOOSE FORESKIN

With 4 piercings securing foreskin over head with crossed barbells, well developed ringed tits, for heavy action. USA 174

PARTIALLY CIRCUMCISED Long Island, 8½" cock seeks full restoration and immediate pre-surgical stretching by uncut male who seeks total foreskin care. Call (516) 922-7843.

GWM 39

5'6", 130 lbs., dark hair / moustache, hazel eyes, cut but restoring, wishes to meet men to age 50, in shape please, prefer uncut, especially interested in restoration experiences. USA 198.

UNCUT BLACK OR WHITE

Like to meet other uncut guys (black or white) who appreciate foreskins, including fondling and chewing. USA 195.

GAMES & SPORTS

Interested in games and sports, exchaning views on same, rather raunchy. Pen name; Clipper (as of hair). Easy going and to know. Photography. USA 193.

HOT LUSTY MALE

With 8" of hard, uncut cock seeks horny uncut playmate for JO, foreskin stretching, etc. Prefer hairy, bearded or moustached types. No fats, fems or pain. I'm 6', 160 lbs., and 42. USA 191.

LOVE THAT SKIN

I seek a gentleman with foreskin, a good overlap, and good size cock to meet and get to know more about foreskin and enjoy it together. I am 45 years old, 6', medium-build.

6'2", BLOND, 7' cut, young 40s, masculine, trim seeks GWM or light Hispanic, uncut or cut, into docking. (718) 424-1064, Box 535, Elmhurst, NY 11373

ORIENTAL? BLACK? EAST INDIAN?

Hispanic? Looking for a lover outside / inside your racial / ethnic group? Call (718) 426-2288 for free questionnaire

FAGGOT WITH FORESKIN

27 yrs., goodlooks, swap photos, stories, drawings, etc. J / O rules, USA 522

UNCUT—LOOSE SKIN I am uncut with loose skin. I particularly would like to meet: Tlouts who enjoy foreskins; 2) those who enjoy daddy / boy fantasies with an uncut; and 3) young uncuts (but all uncuts welcome)! USA 315

71 / 2" HEAVY FORESKIN 5'10", 145 lbs., nice balls, nipple play. USA 205

IF YOU'VE GOT THE UNCUT BEEF

I've got the buns. Me: 26, 5'10", 140 lbs., br / br, horny! You: muscular, hairy, hung big & thick. Big foreskin a plus! Box 620, 132 West 24th St., New York, NY 10011.

BODY WORSHIPPER AVAILALE For your pleasure. Am expert suck slave. Like WS from uncuts whose body and attitude deserve worship. Health conscious. Call Mike (212) 989-

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CHEESE & WINE PARTIES 45, 6'2", hairy, tattooed, have super overhang, loaded with cheese, Lower Hudson Valley (NY), USA 206.

NORTH CAROLINA

MASTER SEEKS SLAVE

I hope I have let enough time pass to give all the jerk-offs and time-wasters a chance to either get serious or get lost. I still seek a live-in slave. I do not wish to waste time with idle, lack-off fantasies. If you are serious about being a slave, then we can talk. You will be interviewed, tried, and trained. You will be loved when earned, punished when deserved. But always cared for. Your pleasure will be to maintain a sound mind and body, and to always try to please me. You will be disciplined as my father disciplined me, and will be a better man and slave for it. For a serious interview call Randy: (704) 865- 0983, or write: 1729 Hudson Blvd., #76, Gastonia, NC 28054.

WINSTON-SALEM

GWM, 30 years, 150 lbs, 5'11" black hair & beard, intelligent, likes sports, outdoors, enjoying life. Stable & secure. Seek other GWMs 20-40 for friendship or whatever, Write P.O. Box 10135, Winston-Salem, NC 27108. Penpals welcome.

SON LOOKING FOR DADDY Am gay, 23 years old, 5'10", slim, 130 lbs., hairless body, 8" uncut. Am lonely in Jackson, NC. Gr / a, Fr / a, blond hair / blue eyes. SASE to USA 701

OHIO

DADDY / MASTER

WANTS SON / SLAVE WM Daddy / Master 38, 5'11", 200 stocky build, seeks son / slave for fun and games, S&M, B&D, TT, shaving, training & service. Photo & phone to Box 4137LF.

OHIO DAD

Old-fashioned bend over pants down spanking given to GWM under 35. Write: T.B., Box 20358, Cleveland, Ohio 44120

HOT GUY WITH 9" cut dick loves to suck and lick foreskin! Can suck my own cock, but would rather suck on some overhang! USA

CORRESPONDENCE WANTED from people who are uncircumcised or circumcised, any age over 18, weight & height unimportant. R.G. Bollar, 3501 Clinton, No. 102, Cleveland, OH 44113.

INTERESTED IN UNCUT WHITE MALES

Hair a plus, 18-43, no drugs. Write: B.H., Box 254, Akron, OH 44308.

TALL, DARK, HANDSOME Uncut, 25, seeks friends, lovers, etc. both cut & uncut, for friendship, romance, great sex. Prefer young-looking , bi or gay, who digs a lot of skin. USA 210.

WRITER WANTS VIEWS

Experiences and information regarding circumcision and foreskins. Confidence assured. Thomas Olsson, 3243 Redding Road, Columbus, OH 43221

YOUTHFUL DAD with versatile, clean foreskin, worships cum from neat circum- cisions. Will paddle or cane if allowed. USA 156.

GWM 37

6'2", 185 lbs., brown hair, blue eyes, masculine and uncut, looking for other discreet, masculine, uncut gay or bi who is into uncut phallic worship. I love the smell of a man's uncut cock along with verbal, uniforms, etc. A photo of your uncut gets one of mine. Men only, please! USA 153 (SEE PHOTO).

MASCULINE WM

36, 6, 180 lbs., 7" cut. Fr / Gr a / p, seeks single or multi-party meetings with masculine Wh in good shape, uncut (hairy a plus). No SM. B&D, etc. Blue collar, trucker, outdoor types. USA 142.

GOODLOOKING GWM

5'8", 145 lbs., lock body, 32, likes uncut under 35, Latin or Black, and cute. Will be outrageous. Chas, Box 451, Lakewood, OH 44107.

GWM, 38, 6', 156 Brown / brown Gr / p, Fr / a, love cheesy foreskin. Steve Davis, 948 Brittain Road, Akron, OH 44305

GWM, 40s, 6'2", 185 uncut looking for discreet, masculine uncut or cut into uncut. Like husky football player / construction types and cops. Joe (216) 771-7795. USA 640

OKLAHOMA

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Enjoys riding dresed in high boots, leather riding breeches & leather police jacket. Would like to hear from police motorcycle officers and other bikers into uniform in Oklahoma and North Texas to form a uniform bike riding club. For further information call (405) 353-3426 evenings or weekends 4552LF

MASTER SEEKS 2ND SLAVE-HOUSEBOY

(2 GWM) Master and slave seek permanent houseboy / slave to finish household unit. New slave must be 20- 30 years old. Into all scenes except scat and serious injury. Limits respected, but will be trained to suit Master. Must be able to relocate. (NO FATS, FAKES, FEMS) Only seriously interested need to respond. Send personal information. phone, and a recent photo a must. Will answer all. To: SIR, PO Box 23561, Oklahoma City, OK 73123 (LF4534)

REDNECK DADDY NEEDED Rowdy NW Oklahoma White boy, 31, 6' 175, masucline, healthy. Into sweaty armpits, big nipples, taftoos and ? Not into FF, scat, heavy pain, fat. Bikers, Truckers especially welcome. Box 4639

OREGON

BOOTS & BREECHES

W / M, 45, rides Harley Police Special and has extensive collection of custom made Dehners & Vogels wants to hear from other serious West Coast collectors. Barry. PO Box 06706, Portland, OR 97206

NEED TRAINING / CONTROL? Salem, 6', 178#. Photo / age to Box 4507

EAT MY ASS!

Working man seeks others for no- strings sex. A beer, a joint & a JO buddy. Nothing up my ass bigger than a finger. Also likes jockstraps and group sex. Portland, Oregon or the Northwest. Box 44551 F

REGON LUMBERJACK who is heroically handsome, hunky and profoundly professional (35 GWM) seeks similar sapien with no asence of skin, sensitivity, sincerity, skill nor skull. (503) 223-9823

SULTRY DAYS-STEAMY NIGHTS DEAR SIR

GWM 72 5'8", 175 lbs., 6" uncut w / long foreskin. Enjoy ball and foreskin stretching and oral relations. No scat, FF, drugs. Don't smoke or drink. Have nearly bisected glans. USA 157.

KINK & RAUNCH IN PORTLAND Uncut, 40s, slender WM, into long WS sessions and ?, crazy for young slender uncuts. Max (503) 248-0899.

PENNSYLVANIA

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Just moved to New Hope, handsome, intelligent 35, 5'10". 170 lbs., blond wants safe sex with leather. Relationship possible. Complete your fantasies and mine. Letters & photos accepted at PO Box 542, New Hope, PA 18938-0542

VERSATILE BOTTOM needs hung dominant top. I'm into a / p Fr & Gr. Really like to suck cock and be fucked by cock, dildo or butt plug. Would like my limits expanded, but respected. Into bondage, enemas, WS, FF. I'm 40, 57", 160 lbs., blue eyes, cut. Please send orders, desires and phone to Box 4580LF.

MASTER / TOPMAN WANTED WM, 5'9", 185 lbs, looking for Master / Topman who is into prolonged bondage, with masks, hood, straight- jackets, etc. Boots, uniforms, watersports, whipping—you name it. No limits except no drugs or permanent markings. NY, MD, W. VA, VA, DC, PA Area. Box 4531LF

BASIC TRAINING Recruits wanted for "Active Duty" by

Military Drill Instructor. Basic Training in a strictly-disciplined military setting will include a thorough pre-induction physical exam, servicing spit-shined military Jump Boots and physical training. Discipline administered to recalcitrant recruits with lite SM and BU techniques in a safe, sane and mutually satisfying session. Di is looking for "A FEW GOOD MEN" who need to be squared away" for the first time or who wish to re-live their BOOT CAMP experiences. Recruit candidates should request orders from MCRD-PHL. BOX 242, Penndel, Pa., 19047-0848. All responses acknowledged, but those with photo / phone answered first. LF4257

MASTER WANTED 28-year-old Italian-Arabic bodybuilder, 510°, 180, black / brown eyes, very hairy, seeks BB Master into shaving. Call (215)691-0586

PITTSBURGH AND TRI-STATE

Muscular top. 29, 6'3', 220, X-college football player is accepting applications for a body slave. Applicants must be straight looking Applicants must be straight looking and actions and between the and acting, muscular and between the ages of 17 and 40. Will consider newcomers, but you must be ready to serve a Master. If you're not sure you want to serve, don't waste my time with your application. Send your photo and application to MASTER, PO Box 55, Glenshaw, PA 15116. (4484LF)

ROUGH, WILD & KINKY SEX I'm 30, 6, 170 lbs. Dr. hair, gr. eyes, swimmer's build, straight appearing, goodlooking, 8½ cut, dig realmen, SM. CET, poppers, J / O, Gr.F. at JP. — rough, wild & kinky sex. Send hot photo for quick

SPONTANEOUS-PHILA. AREA Italian, young 41, high libido & energetic with muscular swimmer's body, insaitiable small ass & 8" thick Dody, insatitable small ass & b Timos, uncut cock, Mesmerized by friendly, warm, brainy, beastly long & thick uncut (cut welcomed) man to snuggle up to for hours of play & exciting delightful good times. Fire one's imagina

ALWAYS LOOKING TO SERVICE uncut men. Love to tongue those skinheads. Call Darryl when visiting Phila area. (215) 849-0905. Men in Phila area welcome too.

FORESKIN LOVER wants to meet any age, size or shape. Other interests are sports and music. Photo if possible. Discretion assured Show me your skin today. USA 619

MA GWM SEEKS young uncut any age. Exchange details by mail. Will Cochran, Box 42511, Philadelphia, PA 19101

WM, 50, 5'11", uncut, loves to give head then fuck my partner. Have 6" tool, longlasting with know-how. Nude photo a must. USA 280

HARRISBURG / READING AREA Looking for foreskins in this area for mutual oral and JO action, also playing with foreskins. USA 124.

PHILA AREA

GWM like all male equipment, will do it to completion, recriprocation not necessary. Cleanliness a must. No weirdos, fats, fems. USA 161.

SEARCHING FOR A HOT DADDY? FIND HIM IN DEAR SIRI

NIBBLE?

Hike to nibble on the foreskin of my bed partner. I swallow semen and I get sexually aroused by putting my tongue all over your asshole. Anyone in this area, please call. USA 180.

EARTHY-SEXY-OPEN

38, big chested teddy bear with nice cut 7", fascinated by warm, mature, bright, beefy, thick, uncut cuddler. J. Miller, 826 Pine, Philadelphia, PA 19107.

WILL BUY PAMPHLET

Given mothers on caring for plastibell circumcised penis. Has color photos of proper appearance during healing and after bell and skin fall off. USA 243.

BERT / MODEL 'NUMBERS' MAGAZINE\ninformation wanted. Studio name? Reply to: Boxholder Dave, Box 39087, Holmesburg Sta., Philadelphia, PA 19136.

RHODE ISLAND

GWM, 39 (BUT LOOKS 30) Fr-a / p, Gr-p / a, looking for both uncut and cut men to the age of 40. I'm 5'8%", black hair / brown eyes, 200#, 61 / 2" uncut cock, beard, moustache and moderately hairy. Couples and groups please also write. No SM, FF or the like. Write to Joe Calo, Box 95, Woonsocket, RI 02895

VERY HAIRY (AND I LIKE IT!) Light brown / ash blond hair, blue eyes, 34, 54%, 140 lbs., Fra / p, Gr / a, kissing, cuddling, hugging and making love are super important to me. Send photo of your heavy-duty overhang. Guarantee same day reply. Jim McElroy, Bo

SOUTH CAROLINA

GIVE ME YOUR TIRED, YOUR LOST AND YOUR HUNGRY…

If you are tired of poor B.J.s and lost interest in looking for a good mouth for your hot, hung, skin-covered dick and are hungry for attention then give me a call. I will treat your dick first-class. Love to 69 also. Try me—you will not be sorry. I am white, Hot and Horny. USA 702 703

WOULD LIKE TO CORRESPOND Or meet men in my area for social events, 18 to whatever, USA 196.

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DRUMMEDIA MOVIES

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p. 89 · 6 pp · scans: 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94

Picking the rough trade out of a glut of marshmallow summer flicks, we give the once-over to Rambo, Thunderdome, and Silverado.

ROUGH JUSTICE / ROUGH TRADE

It's a scientifictive fact for the major moviemakers: What goes up on the big screen today reflects what was going down in the popular mind about a decade ago. A new male image (as ever, the operative motion focus of the motion picture) was forming around 1975:

He was fairly well self-educated and self-civilized, fast on the uptake, and Water-gate / Vietnam cynical-in other words, he knew better than to let the smarts show. He was wary-to-paranoid with flexible standards, selective amibition, narrow commitments , and an expedient morality that t'warn't nobody's business but his own. He was almost wholly passive-non-judgmental and non-aligned, without being noticeably antisocial —shielding and controlling an explosive aggression. Neither a giver not a taker of orders, having experienced at one point or another both total mastery and slavery, he was anti-romantic and would go to any length to hide deep emotional scars. Physically, he was prime, matured beefcake, able to take care of himself or help out a buddy; he had an inscrutable, impassive countenance , fast but not unnatural reflexes, could endure pain wonderfully but did not prefer death before dishonor. He went one-on-one where possible , separated love from lust and vengeance from justice. enjoyed both and could do without either. If not a law unto himself, he was careful not to get caught.

Audiences were primed ten years ago for their arrival: Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome; Silverado; Rambo: First Blood Part II. Each unreels around that central male image, familiar not from the screen but from the rudimentary shadow that is just now being concretized.

This time around, the hardening process (thought-onto -film) is not producing icons out of whole cloth in the hero / outlaw mode-Bogart, Wayne, Eastwood or Schwar- zenegger. They're something else, these five men, known hereinafter as Max (Mel Gibson ), Paden, Emmet and Mal (Kevin Kline, Scott Glenn and Danny Glover), and Rambo (Sylvester Stallone). Whatever the movie time-frame-Future , Past, Present—they are tied to the new image and apparently comfortable with it. This counter-hero inverts the protagonist's role: instead of acting on his environment and making things happen, he reacts. The effect of reaction-acting is not quite the same as film-before. It's more like real life…or what real live would be like if Nature had high production values and lots of money.

The best reactivity is down. in Oz, where the radwaste glows and the citizen-survivors of Bartertown imbibe at the Atomic Cafe or glom the gladiators in the caged arena called Thunder-dome ("fwo men enter; one man leaves"). Bartertown is maintained under the uneasy co-auspices of a brazen, glam-ourous politician, Aunty Entity (Tina Turner), and an under- ground energy tzar, the brains / brawn team of Master / Blaster (Antelo Rossitto/ Paul Larsson), and their mutant minions. It's jazz against pig-shit: who'll break the deadlock? Over the barren, blasted dunes (Australia's opal-mining country, a special effect in itself) strides Mad Max (Gibson, doing his own fancy foot-and-stuntwork). Max is grim and gritty, somewhat mindblown but saner, as always, that anybody else around: just angry as hell and aiming to recover his purloined vehicle. Somebody copped his conveyance. Next thing, his life is on the line, and the line stretches all the way into the land where the Lost Children dwell, and dabbles in the dappled sylvan glade a while with a tribe of youngsters (all but one nubile to a fault) before it snaps back to the Great Chase sequence.

Thunderdome risks a change of pace as well as of place and character types (never demeaning stereotypes —a laudable hallmark of George Miller's films to date), from makeshift, noisy, crowded, smelly urb (where are scratch-'n'-sniff cards when you really need them?) to rustic idyll and back to the desert raceway / battleground familiar to Mad Max and Road Warrior fans. The directors, producers and writers took a chance-for my money, a satisfying one that creates new dimensions for their post-apocalyptic legend. (Those who require Full Speed Ahead all the time deserve porn loops for breakfast.) The camera goes away and doesn't always come back; the howling , throbbing Maurice Jarre score can still to the eerie no-sound of a moonlit wasteland night; and Gibson carries it off in true Gulliver style: Big or Lilliput, straight or curved, they all want to make a tool of Max, a man who won't be moved or used.

Max is a mysterious, affective , implacable object who causes the forces around him to shatter like the monolith in 2010; were he a classic hero, they would stay shattered. In the new reality, they simply yield and reform out of his way.

DRUMMER 89

Their outward appearance of purity and innocence is deceptive ; they've merely given up expectations and illusions. Their immediate world and personal situtations, rather than the men themselves, become role models.

Silverado, a Columbia Pictures release, has a neat Western title, 31 / 2 stars (besides Kline, Glenn and Glover, Kevin Kostner comes in late and light as Glenn's kid brother , Jake), and a script spread out all over the wide prair-ee. Everything's on the surface, and there's a surfeit of it. Three separate storylines tie-up loosely in a final shoot-out in the town of Silverado (an isolated, exposed locale that resembles the quintessential studio back-lot miraculously come to life). But for 3 / 4ths of the longer-than-average picture , the three touch base in totally unrelated scenes-cavalry outpost and wagon train, a brace of homesteads, four family situations and two different saloons (one managed by the classy Linda Hunt, who brings enough emotion to the surface with one quizzical lift of an eyebrow to overbalance all the other enigmatic actors combined), two wrong-headed sheriffs (ex-Python John Cleese with savoir-faire and heavy Brian Dennehy on the down side), three sets of bad guys, a fringed jacket and a set of long johns, a brace of mules and pearl-handled revolvers, a hundred horses (very well sat) and a thousand head of cattle. an offstage dog, a slick gambler named Slick (Jeff Goldblum), arresting arroyos, tumbling tumbleweed, background music that fell out of the wrong side of Aaron Copeland's "Rodeo," two kinds of sister, one father, one nephew, and one straight-faced bromide after another. It's Lawrence (The Big Chill) Kasdan open-ended ensemble that doesn't so much update the "Western" as free it from simple-minded nostalgia . It's easy to watch and bemusing as all get-out.

Paden, Emmett and Mal have chequered pasts and indefinite futures. Rugged, weathered , dust-crusted from boot to cowlick-oh, those perfect capped teeth do stretch one's credulity. There's nought to tell them from potential desperado-hood except for an interesting lie, the one that keeps you watching: They keep hinting at finding a home and settling down-Emmett to the promise of California, Paden to breathe the salubrious stench of the saloon, and Mal to the farming family he left behind (it's invidious to compare movies , but Glover's role here, facing pioneer-style prejudice , is the perfect lead-in to his character in Places in the Heart). They maybe even think that's what they want, but it ain't so and you know it. They're just going to touch leather for awhile, rub shoulders in the showdown, and then drift on out over the wide-open spaces.

From the moment Paden soul-kisses his found mount (the rustlers ripped his roan!), Emmett rousts his randy brother from an unjust jail and Mal finds his dad in a bad way and getting worse-all due to the same bad bunch-they're bound to be winners, with nothing left to lose.

Close-ups are on bad-ass beards, bandoliers across the chest and hardware. Where but in the traditional Western can you show off a crotch-from the top of the holster to

its buckskin tie-down around the tight-pantsed thigh-without a fleshy bulge in sight? It does make the frequent full-screen views all the more disconcerting . The passion-points of Silverado are sudden and harsh, dealing only indirectly , and perversely, with sex—a man crouched in a cold creek cradling the corpse of a dead relative; a man torn between strange new friends and a strange new love; and a man suddenly double-roped, spread-eagled between two horses and ridden over by a third. It's too strong a scene to let go of easily. The whole picture seems easy enough to swallow, but slivers of Silvera-do will stick in the craw.

It wasn't what they did; it's what happened to them that counted. They voluntarily relinquished the rights of choice and responsibility, and the vacuum was filled by random chance, so there was nothing to be bitter—or dramatic, for that matter-about.

Rambo is a very attractively done piece of filmwork. The mainstream audience orders and Sylvester submits. There is a universal, predominantly Third World-wide, demand for war-mongering garbage, but the two are not usually so compatible.

Half stud-goat and half boy-hobo , at first take the "new male image" doesn't seem to fit Mr. Rambo; it's too complex and spohisticated a theory for what purports to be a strictly formula character in a one-phrase plot (bring 'em back alive), pushed above and beyond the casting-call of the hoary Hollywood hero.

But he was born and came of age with the others, a victim of the very idols he seeks to protect and project. "Rocky" is a ring classic; he am what he am, "Rambo," on the other hand, needs protection on his fantasy crusade because his dilemma , his enemies, his entire world, simply does not exist. He creates it as he goes, so there is something to respond to. The context puppet-strings show clearly in consistent votes of no-confidence, variations on, "Sir, do we get to win this one?"

Offered the latest in high-tech tactical weaponry, Rambo refuses. "The only weapon I need" he says, "is my mind." (At which point a Viet-Vet in the back of the theatre shouted, "My God! He's going in unarmed"). Actually , Rambo's knife with the serrated edge, as damaging as a dum-dum bullet, could be the weapon fetish to replace .357 Magnums. But as the body-count builds on all sides, the victory early on becomes a sacrificial slaughter.

Let's face it, it's not the dauntless Reactionary, its his reactive bod. Pick a dozen frames at random and you've got a Muscle-Of-the-Month calendar. They come in ubiquitous close-up, pre-oiled, forever slick with rain-forest sweat, streaming down from chistled cheekbones worthy of Mt. Rushrome to heaving slabs of pectorals, out to spatulate butch fingertips (it's a gym-built physique sporting eyeshadow and exquisitely manicured fingernails, but who cares). He's a wet dream come true for Richard Crenna, playing a sweet-faced colonel who behaves like a parody of a rich and doting, if ineffectual, old queen—and later for Brian Dennehy (who, with Rambo, Silverado and Cocoon under his belt, is having a well-screened summer), another officer / boss brought low, on his terrified / thrilled way to the same role.

The "torture" scenes are not likely to raise an eyebrow or anything else-it's a bad fake aimed at showing how stupid Russians and Vietnamese are. He's sunk in gunk, scratched on the (dorsal) cheek, and electroded, pants on, in the leat intimate and sensitive areas. (Back to Lawrence of Arabia, or the first ten minutes of a Charles Bronson bomb, The Evil That Men Do, or more specific to the Rambo story, several extended descriptive passages in a current best-seller, The Aquitaine Progression .) The strength of Hercules , the brains of Pluto and the convictions of Jerry Fal-well . Oh, my.

He was a rational being who followed his own logic even when it came into conflict with his own safety or pleasure , never mind anyone else's. He performed as a product of his invented milieu, a well-kept prisoner of an unsafe society in an unreliable world-today he is rough trade being used cinematically to satisfy a public need for rough and temporary justice. He might step off the screen and go home with someone who asked him, for the night, but we'll never know-with this kind of guy it's "two men in, one man out." He may not be a winner, but he's a for-damnsure survivor.

-Penni Kimmel DRUMMER 91

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p. 95 · 6 pp · scans: 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100

The shame of the New York Native: The most virulent anti-SM tirade in years has surfaced in the pages of a respected gay newspaper.

DRUMINIAD A PRESS

THE SHAME OF THE NEW YORK NATIVE

The quotations that immediately follow will probably anger you, probably make you shake your head in familiar disgust-you've read this kind of anti-gay harangue before. But I want you to read these vicious words, and try to imagine their source. That may surprise you:

Nobody I know is advocating criminal sanctions against homosexuality. What those of us who are concerned about homosexuality are advocating is that people who are not already into homosexuality avoid it, and that people in general begin to understand that homosexuality ought to be thought of as an unhealthy way of life that threatens us all.

… Yet the popularity of homosexuality seems to be growing…Why?'

"People like it."

"This is precisely one of the great dangers of homosexuality . A person tries it and finds that it really gives him far-out kicks. He may achieve orgasms like he's never achieve before. It happens. Then he may come back to it, again and again because it's such a surefire road to pleasure for him …But then he may forget (or never learn) that there are other, more deeply satisfying means to sexual fulfillment. Homosexuality is very like using drugs to achieve a sensation that ought to be brought about by natural bodily processes . The body becomes confused … Finally the psyche becomes confused…

'As Thomas Jefferson said…'I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just' …

"People are dying of AIDS. That must stop. People are dying of homosexuality. That also must stop…

"How is is to be overcome? That is a question that must ultimately be answered by the 'experts' among us—the psychologists , the sociologists, the political scientists. The rest of us, meanwhile, must fight it as best we can.

"Whatever we do, we can't say anymore, 'If that's what people want to do, that's their business.' Homosexuality is a far more dangerous proposition than some of us had thought."

You might assume that this odious diatribe comes from a Jerry Falwell pamphlet, or a newspaper column by James J. Kirkpatrick. It does not. Where did it appear? Would you believe in the pages of the New York Native, a major gay newspaper put out by the same people who publish Christopher Street?

Well-not exactly. Go back to the beginning of the quotations above. Each time it's mentioned, in place of the word "homosexuality," substitute "SM." What you now have is a series of exact quotations from an inflammatory and irresponsible article by Craig Johnson in the July 29- Aug. 11 edition of the Native, titled "SM and the Myth of Mutual Consent."

Why have I substituted "homosexuality " for "SM" in these excerpts from the Native's anti-SM diatribe? To demonstrate, at the outset, just how deeply author John- son has assimilated the language and the tactics of our common New Right oppressors , and just how insidiously he has wielded them against yet another vulnerable minority within the gay community.

But let's go back to the beginning.

"SM and the Myth of Mutual Consent" begins with a lament for the late Eigel Vestri, whose murder earlier this year was big news in New York. The glamorous, grotesque and tawdry elements of the case-blond , Nordic Vestri was reportedly a fashion model whose contacts ranged from the skylight to the gutter, he was tortured before his death, his charred body was found wearing a leather hood—were played to the hilt in the New York press, with sensational headlines in the Post and echoes of sensationalism in the Native itself.

Stupidly but inevitably, links were made in print between Vestri's murder and anybody with an interest in SM or leather . Guilt by presupposed association is the biggest of the Big Lies, but that has never dimin- ished its power: All homosexuals are child molesters, all atheists are Communists, the Jews murdered Jesus, and any man who's ever worn tit-clamps or spanked another man for mutual pleasure was an accomplice in the death of Eigel Vestri. It is not an allegation worthy of debate, but that hasn't kept it out of the letters pages of the Native, and this presumption of shared guilt is Johnson's emotional starting point.

"I never knew him, actually ," Johnson says of Vestri, "but I know if I had, I would have loved him…Such angels do not walk amongst us very often these days, not in this time and place. That is why I mourn.'

Thus, robed in black but radiating light, Johnson proceeds to point the finger of blame: Vestri "was killed by a sadist. He was a victim of sadomasochism (SM)." (Again, try replacing "homosexual" and "homosexuality" for "sa- dist" and "SM." It is most revealing . Remember every headline you've ever read with those hated words HO-MOSEXUAL MURDER or GAY PLAGUE.)

Johnson then launches into his attack on SM. "I intend to paint as true a picture of SM as I can. And I mean to show that there is no way this practice can possibly be defended." He then proceeds to reveal his ignorance about the dynamics of SM as it is actually practiced by sane individuals, and to display , again and again, his fearful fascination with SM, or at least his own twisted version of it.

Mutual consent, Johnson tells us, is impossible in SM. After all, "Masters own slaves," and the ideal Master "recognizes no parameters." This is clearly a vision of SM acquired from the realm of hyperbolic fiction, not fact; Johnson is talking about the myth of SM, but his perception is not nearly subtle enough to begin to grasp the dynamic between myth, fantasy and reality-or to under-

DRUMMER 95

bonds of give-and-take that endear a sadist and masochist to one another to their mutual satisfaction. Listen to this:

"It is best not to mess with madness. The sadist often doesn't know when to stop. He loses the capacity to stop. The masochist loses the capacity and / or desire to make him stop. People end up in hospitals . Or morgues. Part of the danger and thrill of the game is that the more the masochist begs the sadist to stop, the more he gives himself over to the power of the sadist to decide the boundaries and when to end the game (if ever)."

I'd be curious to know just how much Johnson knows, firsthand, about the "danger and thrill" he speaks of with such breathless excitement. Has he himself experienced this unhealthy inability to restrain himself, either as a top or bottom? Has he observed it firsthand in others? Or is this just part of the imaginative, pornographic world of SM that exists in his own head, to his horror and fascination?

Johnson is talking about sexual hysteria and psychopa- gerous in any form. His argument only makes sense if we allow that SMers as a group are psychopaths, utterly unable to make choices or control their behavior. Further, in Johnson's universe, anyone who might indulge in even the lightest SM is quite likely to instantly lose his marbles and turn into a frenzied, homici-dial maniac. It's so simple, you see, to progress from an innocent spanking to cold-blooded murder-in nine quick and easy steps:

"Where do you draw the line? If it's okay to spank somebody if he asks for it, then surely it's okay to whip him, if that's what he wants, isn't it? And if it's okay to whip him, what about branding? What if he wants you to carve your initials in his chest? Why not? What if he wants you to put pins through his nipples or his dick? Shouldn't you do it? If he wants you to cut off his nipples? What's to stop you? To break his arm? That's what he wants, right? To chop off his arm? Go right ahead. He asked for it, didn't he? What if he wants you to kill him?

Where do you draw the line, indeed?"

This is ludicrous beyond belief , made all the more so by the fact that Johnson himself never pauses to answer his own rhetorical questions- "Why not? What's to stop you? Where do you draw the line?" If he did stop to answer those questions, his spiraling, luridly detailed fantasy would instantly collapse. The reason that "you" are going to refuse to cut off some psycho's nipples is because "you" are as sane as I am. I am not so sure about Craig Johnson (who has the gall to assume that you and I just escaped from an insane asylum, or a Halloween movie). Would you trust such a man in your bed? The least misunderstood suggestion of pain and-My God, what's to stop him? If Johnson can't answer that simple question, if he has as little judgment as he imputes to us, I wouldn't care to trust him in the same room with my nipples.

(And again, note the odious tactic Johnson employs; his "escalation" theory could as easily be applied to any group or individual he might despise , say, older men who like younger men: "You say you like men who are only 25? Then naturally you'll work your way down to college students , right, and then to high school boys? Why not, if they're willing? And then to adolescents. Go right ahead! And then children, and then infants. What's to stop you? Where do you draw the line, indeed?" Such arguments always reveal more about the people who frame them, and their own repressed desires and fears, than about the target of their venom.)

The ranting and raving continue . SM is identified as "unhealthy ," "madness," an addiction, a "virus," a "plague" (directly equated with AIDS, though "in some ways more frightening"). It is linked to fascism. (This idea has of course been explored before, by minds far subtler than Johnson's; he has nothing to contribute.) And in a patently absurd assertion, he informs us that "SM and safe sex are incompatible." Period.

So what is to be done about this "virus"? Johnson declares, "Nobody I know is advocating criminal sanctions against SM." (Who, then, except Johnson, is bringing up the idea of imprisoning SMers?) Short of handing out prison terms, Johnson wants society to disapprove of SM. If that's all he desires, he has wasted his time in writing his article; the grail was safely on the cupboard shelf long before he began the quest.

But disapproval will not be enough. SM is a problem to be solved, a contagion to be contained and eradicated. (Once again, the anti-gay language of our New Right oppressors.) It is a question that "must ultimately be answered by the 'experts' among us-the psychologists , the sociologists, the political scientists." (John-son is referring, of course, only to those "experts" who agree with him.) Where have we heard this line before? And where has it led us before? Into the mental wards, the jail cells, the concentration camps, into the closets of self-hatred , because that is where the qualified "experts" said that we-all gay men, all sexual "deviates," all menaces to society—belonged.

Those into SM, says John-son , must also be isolated and ostracized; "we who believe in genuinely progressive causes should not let them ever trick us into thinking that they are our allies, or into making us theirs. They are our enemies.'

SM represents fascism, we are told; yet the insidious voice of Authoritarianism comes from Johnson himself. Throughout, to support his righeousness, Johnson alludes to "authorities in the field of mental health," to an SMer being "in peril of his immortal soul," to the spirit of the Founding Fathers, to the wrath of God; untimately his entire thesis draws, over and over again, from the language of the religious New Right.

The bottom line: Who owns a man's body? The state, society , God, psychiatrists, "experts"-or the individual himself? I am not sure which Johnson would answer, except that it would not be the individual. "Nobody has the right to grant permission to inflict bodily harm (or verbal abuse) on another human being, even if that other

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Others were big and beefy and liked to carry him on their hips while they walked around, jogging in and out of him. Still others were aging and wiry and knew some weird, far-out tricks to pleasure a guy, always exploring the outer limits of sex.

Scott was performing some raunchy tongue tricks around Fly's crotch that set Fly's tremendous tree-trunk legs to twitching and trembling. Scott stroked the back of Fly's sweat-drenched ass. Then he moved out behind Fly, parted his hard clenched bums and began running his tongue up and down the hair-choked gulch, making slurpy sucking sounds. "You got a river flowing back here," he slavered, his words sounding like tarts

"Hey, baby," Fly cautioned. "Don't forget. You haven't had a taste of my dick yet. Come around here. On your hands and knees. With your mouth open.'

"Gobble, gobble," Fly burbled, reaching forward with both hands to grab Scott's ears. Before Scott knew what was happening , his face was being stroked by a hot, bulbous, fist-sized knob, his eyes, nose and ears probed and smeared with pre-come jizz.

"Lick it," Fly ordered, jerking Scott's head back by the ears. Scott's tongue snaked out under that fat head and slid down to the shaft. "Just the head, baby. Just the head, you greedy fucking cocksucker," Fly sneered, betraying his own order by suddenly sliding the whole heavy prong up Scott's streaming cheek, burying the boy's face in his large, furry, sweating balls. He laughed. "Mealtime," he sniggered, pulling Scott's head back roughly. "Here you go, dick-lips."

All Scott remembered was feeling something hot and blunt and wet and soft, all at the same time, jam against his lips. He opened his mouth instinctively and found it instantly packed with thick, steaming beef. He gulped and whimpered as the shapely, wedged meat kept coming, driving into his throat. His nostrils flared. His cheeks hollowed. His jaw was forced down to his chest. His throat muscles relaxed and allowed the burping intrusion to pass through into his upper chest.

His entire neck held a solid core of cock. His lips were ground into deep, coarse pubic hair. His nose smashed into a hard, flat, hairy belly. But only for an instant, before his head was jerked cruelly backward, and his strained face made to vomit up the huge invader in its entirety—only to have the madness begin all over again: swallow, vomit, groan, smack, suck, swallow, grip, breathe, snort, moan. On and on it went, the strong hands guiding his head like a puppet, making it bob around the incredible plunging dong, rotating it around his drooling lips, causing loud mud-sucking sounds.

The kid had one talented throat, once you got it opened up. Fly shoved forward with a mighty heave, and sank his leaky pipe to the balls down Scott's soppy, spasming throat, holding it in there, losing the kid's face in his groin. He grabbed Scott by the nose and pinched his nostrils shut. It wasn't really necessary. His gullet was stuffed to the gills. He couldn't breathe that way, anyhow. But Fly had found the nose-pinching trick really scared the living shit out of a deep-throat cocksucker. And what happened next was well worth the effort.

Scott's eyes bugged insanely. His whole body suddenly shuddered violently. Fly watched Scott's neck muscles expand, standing out in great flexed cords. The contraction began in his belly, rolling upward through his chest. His arms flew up in the air, fists balled white. With one unearthly, choking gasp, his insides vomited up the bloated blockage. Fly smiled as his cock shot free of the angry, spewing mouth, and Scott fell against him in a near faint, coughing and gagging, swallowing his own bile that had followed the erection out as far as his throat.

"Why did you do that?" he raged, hiccupping loudly.

Fly's fingers suddenly had a life of their own. They clamped onto Scott's neck and squeezed. Scott began clawing at his body, but it only excited Fly more…those hands all over him…the struggling body beneath him on the floor. For a moment the blinding daze cleared from his vision and he saw Scott's mouth stretched open like a tunnel, his fat tongue 98 DRUMMER lolling damp and dripping against his perfect white teeth. He lost himself again, briefly, and rammed the terrrible swelling of his dick all the way down Scott's throat, trying to tear his tonsils loose and drive them into his belly. Fly fought the faint tugging of the hands on his hips with broad swipes of his arm, and held Scott impaled with the other, palming the back of his head firmly; thrusting brutally. Scott's face was ashen, his eyes bugging …Fly humped like he was inside the elastic resilience of a man's ass…one, two, three times…and drove Scott up into a corner. Fly flexed his mighty legs and pile-drived Scott deeper into the corner. He pulled Scott's throat all the way up on his pecker…it was tighter than any ass he'd ever had…and gave it one last vicious thrust.

Before Scott could catch his breath, Fly had him flat on the floor. He squatted on Scott's face and watched it disappear into the bottomless crack of his ass. Fly's balls drooled down over Scott's chin. The cheeks of Fly's ass relaxed down over the sides of Scott's head, absorbing it. Scott pummeled Fly's ribs, fighting for air, until the hot, funky darkness of Fly's maneating ass lulled him into a hooded bliss.

Fly's legs hugged Scott's torso, his knees digging into the ribs. He leaned back. His lower legs pinned Scott to the floor like a butterfly on a mounting board. Fly tilted his pelvis and felt his ass splay wider. Even so, Scott was unable to fathom a bottom to the hairy crack hovering within licking distance of his face. His eyes blurred with pain. Fly rocketed forward and braced his weight on his knees, waiting for Scott to figure out what he had to do. Scott immediately lifted his arms up beside his head. Fly leaned back and entombed the kid's head in his humpy butt once again, sitting firmly and snuggly onto the shiny, handsome face, pivoting his shaggy anus around Scott's nose, eating the snorting snoot with his hollow hole.

"Breathe real deep, baby, and I'll give you a whiff of my soul," he groaned, riding the bumps and grooves and curves of Scott's scrumptious head, feeling the hot, swollen lips open wide every time his asshole slid by. Fly mounted the fat ring of Scott's yawning lips and drove his full weight down onto the scorching probe that shot up from their core. His coccyx flattened Scott's nose like a pancake as he rode the ass-eating crater, sucking the erupting tongue deep into his rioting, virgin bunghole. He scooted back onto Scott's numb, punch-drunk nose and rotated furiously. Scott's chin peeked out from beneath the burying balls, and he gasped for air, nearly swallowing the large goose-eggs in the process.

Things were getting tense, but Fly wasn't about to abandon his trapped, struggling pleasure now. He slid further back, melding his crotch to Scott's forehead, rolling his balls up onto Scott's nose, and let the boy drag some fresh air, before sliding back to completely devour the head once more. He bobbed his hips back and forth, pressing down hard on the bucking, yielding face, punishing the pretty proboscis and the leeching maw, even trying to pluck out the eyeballs with his suctioning asshole.

Scott's rigid arms stretched into the air alongside Fly's heaving torso, fingers spread in a desperate signal for help. He was hovering on the brink of consciousness, but was aware of every sensation. He imagined he might suffocate in the heady slough of Fly's steaming ass. He swooned and fantasized his only means of escape to be the brush-covered cave, the entrance to which he was so busily excavating with the shovel of his tongue. If he could just snake his way up inside there…would he be in heaven, or a pile of shit?

Fly's knees slammed into Scott's ribs again and again, sending whoops of broiling, damp breath exploding up into his bowel from Scott's tortured, collapsing lungs. The immense, solid booms of muscle and heavy bone bruised the fragile ribcage to the breaking point, squashing the thin torso and causing Scott's hips to bounce off the floor like a rubber ball.

Fly brought his knees up suddenly, planting his feet flat on the floor, the full weight of his giant body threatening to mash Scott's head like a rotten melon. He bounced forward onto the long, twitching tongue one last time, and squatted deep until

he could feel the piggish teeth nibbling his anus, before lifting off reluctantly and standing up.

Scott scrambled from the corner he was rapidly making his new home. He clambered onto unsteady legs, wobbling and careening, feet apart, asshole bared, socking his aching, throbbing cock-pocket back at Fly…wide open for inspection. His arms and upper body fell forward, slamming onto the metal table-top like a slab of cured meat ready to be cut and processed . His knees hugged the outsides of the table legs, sliding forward, forcing his own legs into a painful split, spreading his asshole to the four corners of his mewling, moaning, mindless desire, prattling an endless stream of idiot babble. Was it possible to want something this fucking bad? To be scared shitless and yet be so horny?

A trickle of sweat ran down his asscrack. He shivered uncontrollably . And waited…

Fly propped himself against the wall, shaken. He wiped his face to clear his lust-shrouded senses. Fought to control his labored breathing. And tried to blink some sense back into his shattered reserve. His legs were spread; knees bent slightly. He wanted to shove some fingers into that salacious winking asshole. Goose the kid silly. Churn his insides. Make those knees jerk up and bang the tabletop. Force the kid to squirm and snarl and plead for it until he was so hoarse he could only gurgle helplessly.

Easy, boy. Easy. He closed his eyes and calmed himself. Two years of lacking this kind of encouragement had taken its toll on his control. He didn't want to hurt the guy. Much.

He risked a peek at Scott's twisted, crouching body. Scott's muscles were swollen taut with the tension of holding such an awkward, strained position. He was quivering so profoundly that the table legs rattled against the tiles. His flawless, tanned skin glistened with a sheen of sweat.

Fly made him wait a full minute longer before he pushed off the wall and headed for the boy.

Scott turned around just in time to see him approaching. The sight of this outrageously humpy, hairy he-man, his huge hard-on cleaving the air like the prow of a whaler, made him gibber with foreboding. Unbearable pleasure was one thing. Stark raiving madness another.

Fly saw the boy's eyes pop out of his head; his mouth drop open. He heard a wailing whine that sounded strangely like an air-raid siren, and enjoyed the boy's struggles to escape. But it was much too late for that. Fly made a big fist with his right hand and thumped the flat of it down hard on the small of Scott's back. Scott's chest and cheek thwacked the table with a sickening splat that punctuated his withering howl with a loud oomph! Scott played dead. It was a smart move.

God, how Fly loved to dog-fuck a man! Standing behind a guy, the full force and range of his mighty body at his disposal, a sophisticated, modern weapon that could deliver a multiple payload, and deploy a dizzying arsenal of clever techniques, supported by an array of shock-value maneuvers. In bed, he often managed to get tangled in the sheets, or drive the guy over the edge of the bed onto his head. But when he bent a guy over something, he would walk it into him and keep right on walking until he had stomped him into the ground.

Scott started struggling again. Fly held him pinned with his fist pressed into the fuzzy, dimpled bow of his back, staring at the flexing, splayed buns…daydreaming. He tickled the exposed crack of Scott's ass with his fingertips, lightly brushing the deep V, and felt the boy collapse into a shuddering resignation. His ohs turned to ooohs! and his legs slid back into a wide split. He lifted his knees up to the table so that only the upper half of his body rested on something solid. His ass jerked back against Fly's stroking fingers, trying to impale himself on one or two. He felt himself sliding irresistibly forward onto the razor's edge of going totally berserk, and welcomed it this time with every fiber of his being.

"Lift one leg up onto the table," Fly instructed, calmer now, but hornier and harder than he had ever been in his life. Scott did as he bidded instantly. "Now, you'd better get a good grip

on the sides and hold on for dear life, kiddo,"Fly warned, ranging himself behind his spread-eagled victim, his roaring hard-on bobbing within striking distance of the totally exposed, greasy asshole.

Fly was impressed. "Already lubed yourself for me, I see. Smart thinking. But I'd have fucked you dry anyway if you hadn't." He pressed the blunt knob forward slowly and watched it part the pouting lips guarding Scott's tube. Slowly, easily he entered him, hands on his hips, thighs thrust outward.

With a superhuman effort, Scott held himself stock-still. It was just too good! Damn it all! He grabbed the sides of the table tighter. His knuckles were turning white again. Damn! He tried desperately to concentrate on something else. It was a good thing the table had a metal top, or…Jesus! He must have four or five inches of that damnably exquisite pork sunk into him now. His toes began to grow numb. His flattened chest and tits ached horribly. He wondered, if he started barking like a great dane, if he would be forgiven; if he couldn't resist the temptation to arch his ass back and capture all of that wonderful five-pound salami to the balls with his tortured gut. He thought not. He decided to bark anyway. He felt like barking…

"Ruff! Ruff!"

He heard a snide snicker behind him. He was infuriated, but helpless to reply. He didn't want that plow-feeling push to turn into an entrail-wretching withdrawl. Not now!

"Ruff! Ruff!" he barked with more gusto, meaning "More! More! Don't stop! Dick me! Oh, dear God, don't stop now!" he sobbed and begged silently.

The bulbous knob hit an obstruction at seven inches. Fly withdrew slightly, lifted his hips a little and shoved forward again. His cock bent with resistance. He drew back again and, this time, plunged ahead into the clutching damp darkness of Scott's bowel. Scott barked, and Fly observed an almost imperceptible shiver travel up the boy's backbone. His dilated asshole was playing a merry tune all up and down Fly's pipeline, massaging the big muscle like an expert masseuse. Three more inches to go. He reached down and tickled Scott's low-hanging nuts, exposed and vulnerable just below his entrenched prong, watching the sack pucker and draw upward into a fat, smooth pouch. Scott grumbled, saying in doggie language that it wasn't fair! In reply, Fly plucked a couple of hairs out of his crotch. Scott growled ferociously, but let out a gutteral bark when he felt the brush of Fly's free-swinging balls brush the insides of his legs as penetration was drawing to a hilt.

He became silent and absolutely still, but his breath labored with the effort. His face looked swollen and red. He felt like he was going to empty his bladder and bowels. He was sure his nipples were denting the metal table-top. His body was wracked with pleasure and pain. He was hovering on the verge of coming, knowing if he did, it would be all over. He bit his tongue until his eyes watered and his ears rang. The last inch was sliding home. It was bumpy and hairy and wrist-thick. Fly's large, velvety balls were flattening into his boiling crotch. Oh how he loved the feel of a real man's balls there—had so often fantasized about having another great big hairy set of balls transplanted there, just below his asshole, to play with and empty out through his asshole in long, squirting gushes, coming like only a man could. He howled and barked as Fly's wide, furry bush ground into his ass, and the insides of his legs were packed with Fly's nuts. Penetration was complete, and Scott barked and barked and barked, half-whimpering barks. His whole body twitched and trembled uncontrollably.

Fly stroked his hands over Scott's full loins. "I know how you feel, sweatheart," he soothed. "Stuffed, huh? You got a big bellyful and can't digest it. I can feel your asslips smacking like the cat who just swallowed the canary. I ought to pull it all out and start over again," he laughed. Scott yipped feverishly, his ass muscles clamped around Fly's cock like a vice, sucking it deeper still, determined to never let it go. Fly felt his balls draw up with the sucking pull, the ravening hole inhaling part of his ballsack. It was a feeling that always drove him wild. A hot, packed pocket trying to swallow him balls and all. He lifted onto his toes and, reaching down under his balls from the side, poked as much skin from his distended bag into the engorged ass as possible.

"Relax!" he shouted. "Open up! Suck! Relax…Suck some more!" He grabbed one of his big goose-egg nuts and shoved it at Scott's hole. He pried at the opening with his remaining fingers, trying to open it up. He jammed his hips at Scott. He had three fingers in Scott's ass now, under his cock. He pulled down suddenly with one mighty yank of his arm, then using his thumb, scooped first one ball, then the other into the yawning

For one unbelievable, magnificant moment he had done it! He had crammed it all up someone, made him take it all—cock, balls and all. He let go with his fingers and felt the greedy assmouth close behind his balls, hugging him snugly like a tight cockring, before he felt it burp and spit him out one ball at a time…plop, fart, plop. His balls were slick with rectal mucus, and the cool air hitting them made them contract and shift and roll between Scott's quaking legs, whose ass muscles continued to suck at him, tugging gently at his roiling bag.

"I'm going to fuck you now. Put your other leg on the floor. That's good. I'm going to pour some long, easy strokes into you. I don't want you to move yet. When you feel like you're going to blow it, I want you to hustle your butt up onto the table with both legs, knees spread wide, your ass hanging over the edge. You won't start coming until you're in position. Then you'll spend your entire orgasm in that position. When the last spasm has passed, you'll climb down again and stay that way until you feel another whump hit you. Before I'm through with you, you'll have ridden that table so often your knees will be raw. A little something to remember me by, baby. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. When you crawl down off the table after the first time, you can join in on the action. We won't get so carried away that we'll stray too far from the table though, will we? I wouldn't want you to break a leg trying to scramble back up there. Then you'd have to hop around on one leg until I was finished with you. Bark if you understand!"

"Whuff! Wuff!" "Good boy."

If anyone had happened to pass through Scott's backyard at this point, they would have heard a mad cacophany of baffling noises emanating from the house. Dogs, wild and tame, barking . Wood screeching over ceramic tiles. Sharp, wet, smacking sounds…

After the second or third climax, Scott lost track. All he could remember was that he never did come down off the table again. His body convulsed. He rode the table like a pro jockey as Fly continued pumping at his humping, jumping ass. The table-top became enslimed with hot, sticky cum, and Scott slid around in the stuff like a greased monkey. Eventually, the table rammed into the far wall of the kitchen. The next solid thrust from Fly sent Scott gushing forward His head slammed into the wall. Fly followed after him, right up onto the table, never losing a stroke. They were both on the table now, and Scott started to climb the wall. Literally. After several more pistoning thumps they were both up against the wall; Fly straddling the table, Scott impaled on his lap, clawing at the wall higher up.

"Where's that bowl of cake mix?" Fly croaked, approaching his end. Scott barked and pointed to the counter next to them. Fly grabbed Scott by the waist, lifted him way up and down on his long, swelling cock several more times, then pulled him completely off it. He lifted him up in the air and sat him down on his feet to one side. Then he very casually reached for the bowl. Giving his pulsing dong a few more strokes with his fist, he began shooting his wad-into the bowl of cake mix. He came long and hard, covering the top of the mix with rich, creamy goo.

When he was through and had squeezed out the last stringy gollobs into the bowl, he got up and silently dressed. As he left through the backdoor, he turned to Scott and said:

"Eat hearty."

visual

DRUM

start p.

by Bill Ward

p. 101 · 3 pp · scans: 101, 102, 103

feature

SAFESEX SLAVESCHOOL

start p.

by Max Exander

p. 104 · 6 pp · scans: 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109

A new vision of care and training in the 1980s.

LAVE SCHO by Max Exander y name is Chad. Six months ago I underwent a very special training. My Master, who was new to me then, said that I was worth his time, but he recognized trouble ahead unless we resolved some potential pitfalls. So he sent me to a week-long training program at the 'SafeSex SlaveSchool" in San Francisco.

But first I must backtrack. There came a time when I began to wonder: Would I ever take a lover, find a Master? It seemed for the longest time that I couldn't connect, couldn't find the sadomasochistic relationship I dreamed about. Eventually it happened that I met Sir Dennis (he prefers "Lord Dennis"), but I also wondered: What manner of sex would we have?

That time of wondering and discovery came in the winter of 1983, that period of transition between the dinosaur of extreme brotherly love which some call promiscuity and the dark, uncertain future. For so long, as I wondered and waited, the notion of a relationship had been confusing and uncertain—for were we not, at all times, forging many relationships of every kind, these Friday and Saturday nights when nothing mattered but instant physical satisfaction? To take a lover, to find a Master—one single man—and to explore not the outside, but the inside—this was not on the agenda that winter.

But when the warning of disease and the abandonment of the baths left one deserted in the night upon which we had all 104 DRUMMER depended for love, one sat quietly at home with the pages of Drummer open to the yellow ads, reading them-scrutinizing them-but never picking up the phone or writing a letter. Confusion reigned and uncertainty triumphed as I breathed over those ads and those photos, my hand stroking my cock, my mind dragging those leathermen off the pages and bringing them to life in my room, where they bent me over, rammed their cocks up my ass, pinched my tits, ordered my about, and forced me to drink my own cum before they would retreat into those pages, now closed, their edges ruffled with moisture.

That prevailed throughout that transitional winter, but last spring—it was really early summer—I sat down at Hamburger Mary's South of Market in San Francisco, and, with my friend Edmond, confessed through tears that I simply could not live another day without getting strung up, worked over, and used.

"You're a mess," Edmond said to me that warm June evening. "Like everyone else in this town-and in New York and Chicago and god knows everywhere I think—you think your life is over because of this disease."

I nodded. He was right. My life was over if I had to keep living on a tightrope of virtual celibacy. One can go to the gym only so long. I picked at my burger and pushed potato salad around on my plate with my fork. I noticed that the tongs were bent.

'Well, it doesn't have to be like that," he was saying. "Not at all. Look, I went throught the same thing…

I interrupted him: "Look, Ed, if you're going to tell me about safesex and masturbating over the phone or joining a jackoff club, forget it. I want real sex.'

We were silent for a moment, as silent as we could be. The sound system blasted Cyndi Lauper at us. I observed two happy leathermen enter and sit down, their leather creaking as they moved past our table. Their smiles irritated me. Were they going about their business as usual? Had everyone else decided to risk everything and just go on?

"I am not going to tell you to jerk off over the phone," Edmond said. "Although it's not a bad idea to let off a little steam…but that does tend to get the handle on the phone kind of sticky…

I did not laugh.

Edmond composed himself. "Okay, Chad, out with it. What do you really want?"

I shrugged my shoulders and cocked my head as if suddenly interested in the new song by Prince that had just come on.

"Chad!"

I looked at Edmond. "You know, I was just telling you. I want the old days back. I want to go out and get fucked and whipped and all of that. But I guess I do want to find one Master to do it on a regular basis. I think I do…I don't know, I'm confused."

Edmond smiled. "Try to figure it out some more. Keep talking.

"Well, I guess where I get confused is this: I've always wanted to have a real SM relationship, but until recently, that didn't seem necessary, because there was so much to do-The Caul-dron , the Slot, the Catacombs, Animals, Sunday afternoons at the Eagle. But always in the back of my mind I have to admit I was looking. Then the health thing started, and it seemed like the hole thing was useless. Now I'm feeling like I have to find a Master and get a relationship, but even if I did, what could we do? I just don't feel it's safe. But it's the only thing I want."

Edmond was nodding his head, sympathetic and understanding . Our waiter brought cups of coffee which steamed and sloshed onto the table. We poured swirls of cream into them. My appetite returned. I finished my burger and potato salad and started on the coffee. Even with the cream, it burned the tip of my tongue.

"I understand what you're saying," Edmond said. "But the first thing we all have to remember is that part of growing up is realizing that there is a certain degree of risk in our life. Period. Next, we have to decide what is an acceptable degree of risk when it comes to this health crisis. If you don't care, then don't define it. But you're telling me that you do care, but that you're

just too confused to work out your own definition of what's acceptable and what isn't.'

I was working on the hot coffee, blowing across the brown surface, watching it ripple. My full attention, however, was on Edmond. I suddenly felt as if I were in the middle of a therapy session—without the sixty dollar fee. I thought about Edmond for a moment, remembered how we had met three years ago in the laundromat, folding sheets. At first we were fuck buddies, then good friends, still close. Edmond was bright, too smart at times. He was a master craftsman at thirty, creating highly stylized furniture pieces in his loft off Folsom Street. He was small and compact. His eyes were blue intense, his moustache soft sand. He wore a T-shirt that said "This is not a dress rehearsal."

"So," he was going on, "it sounds to me like what you want is a relationship, with heavy, hot sex—you as a bottom, a slave. But you don't want to risk your health.' to use the way he wants to.' And you're right, that's it. So you need to do that safely.'

I shrugged my shoulders again. "Sure," I agreed. "But I don't get it, only because that's just too much to ask—to find a Master, to get into a relationship with him, and to do it some new, safe way…

He shook his head and cut me off. "It's not hard at all, It's not asking too much. Guys do it all the time."

"But…" I started to protest, but he went on.

"Your problem, Chad, is that your head is blocking it all up. You know what you want. Go find it. Make the decisions you're making and then turn the fucking inner dialogue off and go do it. Just stop chasing your inner feelings around in circles and be done with it."

I dind't say anything. I was attracted by the advice, particularly about turning off the inner dialogue. Ed was right-I'd been chasing myself around and around, trying to figure out what to do. What I hadn't tried was precisely what he was suggesting—to turn it off and take action, to stop thinking and do something. e didn't talk any more that night. After dinner we had walked down Folsom Street, irritated that the warm June day had yielded to the chill of San Francisco fog. For the next two months after that I started to go out again, in the evenings. I would put on my leather, wrap a leather strap around my right arm, and frequent my favorite bars: the Detour on Market Street, the Brig on Folsom, the Eagle on Harrison. Slowly it dawned on me: I had been in a state of something akin to shock for about a year. Fear had made me withdraw, when withdrawal was unnecessary, even counter-productive . Those summer nights on Folsom Street again-strutting in leather, listening to the roar of motorcycles, enjoying the muscles on display in those hard bars—came back to me with the force of remembered pleasure, a security in habits that had been, and were once again, sources of profound pleasure in the company of a community of men I truly loved.

I realized that I had my life back, that life I had chosen and come to San Francisco to lead, a life of perfect balance which included leather, slavery, and horniness. And I was not the only one. Other men whom I had not seen for awhile were back-safer and wiser-but back nonetheless. And the mood was changed, subtly in some ways, such as the relaxed tempo of evenings at the Brig, the high pressure relieved by responsibility and respect. Communication—which had always been at a minimum—was now absolutely necessary, and it fostered a new attitute, a feeling of masculine serenity in stating desires, making terms, and sticking with them.

It was in that context I met Dennis, the friend of a friend. It

was late July, a Sunday afternoon at the Eagle. He took me home, stripped me, and worked me over, finally jacking himself off onto my chest and then using his slick semem to jerk me to climax, my lips whispering fantasties: "…to fuck me up the butt and make me crawl across the floor dragging weights from my tits and my balls just to get within sucking distance of that big thing…oh god and make me take it everywhere you want, in every position…giving me to your Master friends for a fuck toy and making me beg for everyone to torture my cock and tug on my balls…" Until I shot my load across the floor.

The "relationship" was much easier than I had thought. Nothing happened. No contract was drawn, no agreements made beyond simple resolutions like "I'll call you tomorrow" or "We'll get together Friday night." One date led to the next, and within a month we both knew that we were having a relationship, as simple as that.

But there was trouble, and Dennis was more aware of it than I. For my confusion—though intellectually confessed to Edmond and myself-persisted in our actual sessions. I begged and pleaded—as part of my submission and verbal fantasy—for Sir Dennis to fuck me, to piss in my mouth, to let me drink his cum and prove our connection. Yet he steadfastly refused to do this. We practiced safesex SM by default—through his choice and my deprivation. The stronger I became attached to him, the more I wanted what my mind called "real sex."

Finally, one day in early September, a hot, true summer day in San Francisco, the air hazy and the light harsh, Dennis refused to beat me, refused to tie me up and use me. "We have to talk," he said, and we drove to the beach to walk in the cool surf.

We pulled off our shoes and rolled up our jeans and walked along the beach, our toes digging into the wet sand, our feet sinking a couple of inches before the next step pulled them up and set them down again, the cold saltwater rushing in, swirling around our ankles, then retreating again.

"You tell me," Dennis said.

But I couldn't answer. I was too afraid, afraid that this was already the end, that I was about to lose him for some reason. In defense, and in romanticism, I etched the scene in my mind: The two of us walking up the beach, the Cliff House far ahead, the glaring ocean at our left, the ugly beach to our right. We walked along the barrier between sea and land. Large Mexican families sprawled across the bright beach towels, radios blaring, open bags spilling potato chips onto the sand. A black couple waded in the surf, the woman shrieking "But it's too cold!" while her boyfriend pushed her further into the water. A wind that was neither warm nor cold blew past us. I had to turn my head just right in order to hear.

Finally I said: "I don't want to lose you already." Tears came

Dennis looked shocked. "Lose me? Oh, god, man, you've got it all wrong. No, no, no, stop that. That's not what's going on at all."

I took a deep breath and felt wonderful. The great Pacific Ocean curled around my ankles and tickled my toes again. Happy people sat in the sun, contentedly reading fascinating novels.

"Then what is it?" I asked. "It's the safesex," Dennis said. "You know we're having it, but I know you want something more. You feel incomplete without it, don't you?"

I started to shake my head. "No, of course not, it's just fantasy, that's all…" But my voice betrayed my deeper feelings, and I decided to be honest. "Yes, no…well, you're right. But don't you figure it's okay now? I mean, it's just the two of us. I'll accept the risk, really I will … '

Dennis shook his head, "No, I won't, I can't, It's not just you we're talking about. I want to let the leather do the touching-if you'll excuse that! —but I can't fuck you or cum inside you or do piss. I just won't do it."

"But…" I said, but I stopped. I didn't know what to say. We reached the cliffs and looked up at the ugly buildings above us.

Dennis shook his head and said he didn't know why they didn't tear it down and reconstruct the beautiful old gothic Cliff House. We turned and walked back the other way.

"Okay," I said after a few minutes. "I'll stop saying those things out loud.'

"That's not enough, babe," Dennis said. "I don't want you to be suppressing yourself either. I want to send you to slave training school.

My eyes widened. "Slave training school?"

"That's right."

"I don't get it. That'd be even less, with other Masters? Like the old Compound?'

"This is a new one. It's a safesex slave training school. It takes a week. They train you to be safesex slaves, to serve safesex Masters. By the time you come out, you'll be so thoroughly well trained you'll beg for me to wear a rubber, you'll be begging for caution and respect. Are you interested at all?'

My dick was already half hard. Part of me loved the idea of the training (I had always wanted to go into the Compound, but never had). Part of me loved Dennis so much I would do anything he wanted to. "Yes, I'm interested," I said. Dennis had seen the lump in my jeans grow into a long bulge. "Good," he said. "Arrange your vacation for next week. I already reserved your space for the mid-September training session.'

I nodded. My dick was completely hard. Dennis took me home and whipped me until sweat poured from my body, and, for the first time in my life, I came without touching my dick. hat is the background for my story. The week which followed that conversation on the beach was filled with preparation. I arranged for a holiday from the office, and Dennis arranged my entrance into the school, though it was extensive. I had to go through two interviews, and those fuckers even wanted a "Statement of Purpose" like I was applying for graduate school or something! Here's what I wrote:

Sirs, I am a slave with a new Master. To me slavery has always meant serving my Master in order to satisfy his big dick. Usually this has involved submitting to his orders and taking his sadism until we were worked into a fever of lust that ended with the satisfaction of his big dick, most often shoved up my greasy ass and pounded there until it filled me with hot cum. But my new Master—and the new ways we're all thinking about now—makes me need your training facility, in the arts of safesex slavery. Please accept my application, Sirs, for the power of slavery is something I can't abandon, but neither will I submit myself to the old ways. I know there has to be a way to do it—to be a hot, obedient slave without enduring any risks to either of us, and I beg to be trained in these methods.

I was accepted, of course, and the next weekend, on Friday at midnight, I was blindfolded by Dennis, put into the pickup, and driven somewhere in the city, I don't know where. I suspect that we were somewhere in the deep South of Market, but it may have been Potrero Hill or even Hunter's Point. I can't be sure, because Dennis drove around and around, turning this way and that, until I lost all track of where we might be, until I began to feel a little bit like I was being kidnapped.

When we finally stopped, Dennis told me to strip before getting out of the trunk. I did, pulling off every piece of clothing , my eyes still blindfolded. I was seized by foreign hands then and led through the chill evening into what I saw was an immense warehouse, converted into a palace of SM dungeons, rooms, showers, and other necessary facilities.

The first thing I was told to do—and I guess there were about five men giving me orders, Dennis among them—was to display myself to them. They instructed me in a ritual of display which I learned and was often required to perform. I had to turn my body around fully three times, so that whomever was there

could see everything I had. Then, after the three turns I was to reach up and pinch my own tits, first the right, then the left, enough to give myself a hard-on. Then I was to lift my cock and balls in my hands as though offering them to my observers. Then—and this was the most humiliating part—I had to slap my own ass, once on both sides, really hard, hard enough to make a loud crack and leave a red mark. Then I was to finish by bending over and spreading my ass cheeks apart so that my asshole could be observed, keeping my legs apart so that my balls dangled vulnerably betweeen them. Then I was to remain bent over like that, legs apart, and to grab my ankles and remain in that position until given orders.

That was taught to me in the first evening, and we were all required to do this, sometimes many times a day. After that first instruction session, I didn't see Dennis until the graduation ceremony the next week. I was on my own, though I never feared. The safesex Masters were horny and kept me safely on my toes all week.

You never knew what to expect after displaying yourself to them. Sometimes it was a sudden slap, or a lengthy whipping. Sometimes a finger would be shoved up your ass, or a big greasy dildo. Whatever they wanted you to do, they'd just order, and you had to do it, or else you'd get the strict discipline, usually to be tied up spread-eagle in one of the large "Discipline Chambers" always filled with tops and bottoms in various stages of disciplinary sessions, and they'd let the guys in the room think up your punishment as they went. If some guy wanted to see my balls stretched really hard, maybe with weights hung from them or with an ace bandage constricting them, then that's what they'd do. So you'd be hanging there naked, and all these guys-anywhere from five to twenty of them-would dream up these tortures. Once, my discipline went on for about three or four hours nonstop! They tied me up and made me beg for every punishment they dreamed up. This one little slave said: "I'd like, Sirs, to see his tits hanging heavy with weights." So the Masters made me beg to have that done. Then another guy said he wanted to see me spanked hard with a paddle, so that he could watch the weights hanging from my tits bounce around, and they made me beg for that. But another guy interjected his idea that it would be more fun to watch if they could see weights swinging around from my balls, too, so I was made to beg for that. Then they had me all tied up and begging for these tortures, and I had heavy weights swinging from my nuts, and then they each took turns whacking my butt with this wide leather paddle they had, which set the weights to swinging and bouncing around…

Anyway, we learned a lot about torture from our Masters, and humiliation as well. But there was no structure to the training, unlike what I had expected. I suppose that the lack of structure was actually a stucture in itself. What they did was to keep you guessing at all times, and it was a constant series of completely different things, over and over, to the point that you remained in a continual state of horny readiness. And gradually , the message sank in-you were having the hottest slave session of your whole fucking life, completely free of worry or concern over health risks. As that reality settled in, you became exultant at the new world which opened up for you—to be a hot, hot slave enduring heavy SM sessions with a clear, unfettered mind, an open conscience. It forced you to make an ultimate surrender to them—that of your worry, your fear, your panic. Without fear of the darkest kind, you could trust your Masters completely. You could really give yourself to them…

They especially emphasized humiliation, making a slave jerk himself off in front of a group of Masters, ordering you to tug your own tits and stick a big dildo up your ass and ride it while they jeered and laughed and jacked themselves off. Then they'd let you cum in your hand and order you to drink your own cum, the only safe cum, they called it, and lick the mess off your hand …

They taught me how to please a Master without penetration, surely the crux of the training for me, finally relieving me of my

fantasy which conflicted with my will. But twice-and this is curious, because it shifted the issue of penetration to the very heart of the matter which was simply the problem of bodily fluids—twice I was allowed to get fucked by a huge Master with a huge cock in a rubber. Their position was that fucking a slave was a special rite to be reserved for only the most intimate Master-slave relationship, once the slave had earned the right to be safely poked and used, but the utter masochism of it was the barrier of the rubber. So you could have your cake and eat it, too, I guess. I was never to have my Master's unsheathed cock in my ass. Well, that was one Master's version, the one with the ten-inch monster who fucked me first. The second fucking was different, a really thick cock, sheathed in glistening flesh-colored rubber. Man, I had to lick that shaft and those low, heavy balls until the whole monstrous arm of a dick was throbbing and needy. Then I had to beg for the privilege to be fucked by a Master with a rubber on. That really turned me on, getting fucked like that. The utter caring of the Master, coupled with the freedom of conscience, transported the safesex slaves into unbelievable ecstacy…

"graduation ceremony" ur lasted for two days straight through the final weekend of that week. It was one huge safesex SM orgy. There were twelve slaves and twenty masters. We were together in the largest hall in the place, completely outfitted with baths, cots for resting, a kitchen, low lighting, and furnished with racks, chains, whipping posts, sex toys, manacles, etc. We slaves were kept naked the whole time, except when leather items were required to be worn.

It was an incredible 48 hours of shifting scenes, some slaves resting while others were worked over, sometimes everyone resting and watching one small, intense scene, humiliating the lone bottom on display for all to observe.

I remember one time when there was only one slave tied up, spread-eagle in the middle of the big room, while the twenty masters went after him. They did everything you can imagine to that kid. I think he was about twenty, maybe twenty-two, blond, smooth, with one of those thick curving horsedicks that some blond kids have.

They tied him up and did it all—humiliating him by making him beg for everything, making him invent and recite slave fantasies for the benefit of all to hear. They jacked him off two or three different times and smeared his own cum on his face, lips, and body, making him lick it off their hands. They whipped him and stuck bigger and bigger dildos up his butt. They clamped and weighted his tits and nuts. They stuck an electric cattle prod on his nuts. They made him talk dirty to various slaves who jerked off to his fantasies from across the room…

After that, we were given back to our Masters and that's when I saw Dennis again. When I saw him later—for I was driven away again blindfolded—I realized how much I had missed him and how much I truly loved him and wanted to be with him. So there I was, safe and sound, or I guess I should say safer and sounder. I've got an insignia to wear on my motorcycle cap or jacket, a special silver pin that has a set of three letters superimposed on a phoenix rising from the flames. My pin has "SSS" for SafeSexSlave, and my Master has "SSM" for SafeSexMaster.

The experience had been for me a fulfillment on many levels-to finally attend slave training, to learn the unlimited pleasures of a worry-free SM relationship, to discover my deep feelings for my Master, to resolve my conflicts and regain my lost hotness. All of these were the wonderful outcome of that dark transition when I had sat alone and worried.

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TOUGH CUSTOMERS

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p. 110 · 3 pp · scans: 110, 111, 112

More rubber—this: TC's got the stretchiest wardrobe around!

GH CUSTOME

ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH IN RUBBER

For this edition of Tough Customers, something a little different…

Just as we were finalizing plans for the special Rubber emphasis in this issue, a packet of snapshots from a Colorado Tough Customer arrived in the mail. Not to stretch the point, but the timing couldn't have been better-here's a genuine TC who really knows his Rubber, from the inside out. So we decided to devote the entire section to him and his extensive wardrobe—we figured you'd just have to see it to believe it.

"As you can see," says TC 1114, "I love tight bondage, rubber, leather, boots, masks and water sports. I enjoy being top or bottom, and want to meet similar men in my area (Colorado or surrounding states). I am 37 years old."

Anybody elso out there want to show off your Rubber? Snap to it!

Tough Customers is our way of sharing the hottest candid home photos sent in by readers like you!

Wanna join in? Send your photo (crisp black & white reproduces best) to: Tough Customers, Drummer, 640 Natoma Street, San Francisco, 94103. Tell us you're of legal age, put your signature on the back of the photo, and include your name and address so we can assign you a confidential TC Box number. (Photos can't be returned.)

Wanna get in touch with a TC? Put your correspondence in an evnelope, seal it, apply postage, and write the TC Box number on the envelope in pencil; put that inside another envelope and mail to the address above, along with a measly quarter for handling. See ya around!

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SLAVES OF THE EARTH

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by Aaron Travis

p. 113 · 5 pp · scans: 113, 114, 115, 116, 117

At last: Aaron Travis' Roman epic is hot off the press!

agnus was able to watch, unangered and almost forgiving of Urius for his crudity. He had Eskrill-and Erskin-to occupy his thoughts. How plain Zenobius looked, compared to the German twins!

The rhinoceros was led in from the arena. Its horn glistened with dark blood. The body of the Egyptian followed.

The sweepers with their rakes trotted out onto the field. The charioteers assembled their teams in the passageway in single file. The horses stamped, blew through their cheeks and littered the ground with dung.

The sweepers returned; the gamemaster gave the sign. The chariots paraded onto the track. The races began and ended. The time for the final match arrived.

Magnus gathered up his sword and shield; no armor would be worn in the death match.

The Nubian awaited him in the passageway. They exchanged cold stares, then entered the arena together. They marched across the field to the Imperial box and raised their swords to the Emperor. The mob was hushed, saving their voices for the violence to follow.

The fight was brief, almost too brief. From the first clash of steel, Magnus knew that the Nubian was his. It was bad form to end a match with the first wound. He would have to toy with the Nubian. A successful fight was like the art of sex; it was best to hold back, to thrill the crowd as long as possible before the climax.

The energy passed from Magnus' groin into his arm, and through his fingers into his blade. His sword became his erection, hard and gleaming, eager to penetrate, unyielding and sensitive to every touch.

Magnus first deprived the Nubian of his shield. He caught the edge of the bronze plate on the tip of his sword, wrenched it from its owner's grasp and sent it skimming through the air. The mob awarded him with a reserved round of applause. The more experienced spectators knew now that the Nubian would die. They relaxed in their seats to observe the master's technique as Magnus began the process of paralyzing his victim. He began with a series of superficial wounds-cuts across the Nubian's left shoulder and arm, a slice across the man's taut belly that brought a thread of blood to the surface.

The Nubian, slashing awkwardly in desperation, drew blood-a glancing oblique scratch across Magnus' thigh. Magnus decided to end the game.

He penetrated the Nubian's defense and landed a deep cutting blow across the bicep of his sword arm, severing the thick muscle. The Nubian jumped back and transferred his sword clumsily to his left hand; his useless right arm, a burden now, hung limp and bleeding at his side. His left arm was the weaker; in seconds Magnus struck the sword from his grasp. He made a lunge at the Nubian's lower chest and scored a deep wound.

The Nubian groaned and staggered back, but did not fall. Magnus approached him slowly, frowning; he was angry that the fight had not been more interesting. Knowing Marcellus, the senator might complain that the match had been a farce, and take back his reward.

Magnus raised his sword, swung it upward and down, upward and down, marking a crimson X across the Nubian's dark chest.

The mob roared. Still the Nubian did not fall. Magnus flicked the tip of his blade about the Nubian's skirt and cut the strap that held the man's leather cup. The garments fell away and the Nubian stood naked, his arms hanging useless at his sides.

There was a hush from the mob. They were eternally curious, the sedate merchant classes in particular, about the dimensions of any shaft that was not white. It was always good theater to indulge their prurience.

The Nubian's sex was swollen, almost erect; Magnus had seen this curious phenomenon before in his victims, the concentration of blood in the sex even as it drained from the rest of the body. He slid his sword between the man's legs, forcing him to open his thighs and rise to his toes. He lifted the Nubian's shaft for display; the fleshy rod lay balanced along the sharp edge of his blade.

The crowd was silent. Magnus looked at the Nubian's face. His dark eyes begged for an end to the humiliation, for release into death.

THE NUBIAN'S SEX was swollen, almost erect; Magnus had seen this curious phenomenon before in his victims, the concentration of blood in the sex even as it drained from the rest of the body.

Magnus lowered the pommel of his sword and stabbed upward, entering the Nubian below his testicles and impaling him on the blade. A rain of blood and offal poured hot over Magnus' fist. A thrill like fire ran from the buried steel into Magnus' arm, welling in his chest and filling his leather codpiece.

The Nubian screamed in spastic agony. The mob roared. There were shrieks among the cheers. Hysteria filled the coliseum.

Magnus pulled his sword free and stepped back. The Nubian jerked wildly and collapsed to his knees. Magnus raised his foot to the man's throat and pushed him backward to the ground. He placed his sword to the Nubian's chest and looked to the Imperial box.

The Nubian's performance had been disastrous. There could have been no reprieve for him, even if there were a chance that he might survive his wounds. The Emperor extended his arm and made a fist, thumb pointing down.

Magnus drove his sword into the Nubian's heart. There was no thrill in the penetration. His sword was lifeless again, insensate; the

The Emperor and his court saluted him. The mob cheered wildly as he walked the circuit of the arena, raising the bloody sword for their adoration. The fight had been unremarkable, even mediocre, but Magnus had given them a climax that would be talked about in the bazaars and palaces and slavequarters for many days.

As he passed the nobles, Magnus searched the stands for Marcellus and the boy. His eyes found the painted matron first. She had fainted. Her head had fallen onto the lap of her younger charge. The ingenue seemed unaware of the weight as she bounced on her cushion and clapped. She tried frantically to catch his eye; but Magnus looked above and beyond her, at Eskrill.

The slaveboy's chiton was still folded back. Marcellus was running his fingers idly over the boy's shaft, keeping him erect. Magnus looked at Eskrill's face. The boy stared back at him, eyes wide with fright. He looked at Marcellus; the senator's expression was as flat and inscrutable as ever.

He circled the arena twice. The applause grew louder. Garlands were thrown before his feet. An emissary from the Emperor crowned him with a golden wreath.

In the gladiators quarters, the athletes hailed him in subdued tones, too in awe of him to shout. Urius stood apart, leaning against a pillar, one foot planted on the back of the Syrian slaveboy; Zenobius lay collapsed in the dust, unconscious after his long ordeal. Urius was cleaning his nails with a dagger and scarcely looked up.

An attendant rushed to take Magnus' sword and shield. The slave spoke to him in a low voice and nodded toward the entrance. "You have visitors, master.'

Magnus turned and saw that Marcellus was approaching him, followed by Eskrill a few paces behind.

The Senator raised his hand in greeting. "An extraordinary finish, Magnus. I have never before seen anything quite like it. Something must have inspired you."

Magnus nodded absently. He stepped past Marcellus and went to Eskrill. The red haze was upon him.

The boy saw the look in his eyes and turned his face away. He trembled and would not look up.

Magnus took the boy's chin in his hand and tilted his face up. He tightened his grip on the slave's jaw, pulled him onto his toes and kissed him. Eskrill's hands flew to Magnus' hips, searching for balance.

From the corner of his eye, Magnus saw that Urius had drawn closer and was watching them.

Magnus moved his hand over the slave's chest, cupping his pectoral and pinching the swollen nipple between his fingernails. He caught the boy's sigh in his mouth and broke the kiss. Eskrill's eyes were tightly shut. "I pity you, boy," Magnus murmurred, breathing the words into Eskrill's face. He touched his lips to the slave's eyelids. "I pity you for the things I shall do to you."

Magnus turned his head to observe Urius' reaction. He was surprised, and disappointed, to see no sign of envy on the gladiator's face. Urius seemed more amused than jealous.

A hand fell on Magnus' shoulder. "Not yet," Marcellus said softly, "Not yet. Tonight. Both of them together.'

Magnus released the boy, who backed away and lowered his eyes to the floor. Marcellus stepped between the gladiator and the slaveboy

"Eskrill and I shall return to the villa now, to prepare for your visit. I have already spoken to Harmon; you are free for the evening. Do not bother to bathe or eat. Tonight, my home and all its comforts are yours. I will send a litter for you in an hour."

SLAVES OF THE EMPIRE by Aaron Travis, illustrated by Cavelo; available at gay bookshops, or from Alternate Publishing, 640 Natoma St., San Francisco, CA 94103; $9.95 (mail orders add $1 postage / handling. California residents add 61 / 2% sales tax.)

Throughout its ten year history, DRUMMER has been known for the quality of its fiction, its artwork and photography. Many of the more established writers, artists and photographers got their start in DRUMMER. As we go into our eleventh year, we are encouraging creative people throughout our community to show themselves. And we are setting aside considerable parts of our budget to do it. The winners: first, second, third and honorable mentions, will be seen on the pages of DRUMMER during the coming months with awards being announced in our next anniversary issue.

ARTWORK on any subject apropos to DRUMMER. Here are SINGLE PANEL CARTOONS for DRUMSTICKS.

STORY ILLUSTRATIONS. You supply the illustration, we'll supply the story.

CENTERFOLD POSTER ART. In 17" x 21" proportion for LEATHER FRATERNITY or DRUMMER. We plan a show of these entries.

SPOT ILLUSTRATIONS on a theme (fetish, leather, B&D, SM or you name it).

FICTION: SHORT STORY for the DRUMMER Fiction Section. NOVEL / SERIALIZED in five to ten parts. Also suitable for trade paperback publication. DRUMMER DADDIES FICTION for either DRUMMER or

DRUMMER DADDIES book.

ARTICLES ON ANY DRUMMER-type subject. Leather, Rubber, Foot Fetish, Cigars, Enemas, Foreskins, Master / Slave, Manhood Rituals, How-to articles, any subject near and dear to the DRUMMER reader. Coverage of leather happenings around the country.

PHOTOGRAPHY in either black & white or color slides. Story illustration, photo stories, fetish fantasies, beefcake, Cover photography (must be in slide form—either 35 mm or 21 / 4 x 2¼). The new, the unusual, the beef we all love to see. in Aware

Send entry to DRUMMER MAGAZINE, 640 Natoma Street, San Francisco, CA 94103. For materials to be returned, enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope. Winners will be notified immediately upon acceptance. Payment immediately follows publication.

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IN PASSING

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p. 118 · 3 pp · scans: 118, 119, 120

AND BUSHING AND

An eager admirer adds his bit to Mr. Drummer '85's jubilent return to Seattle. Requests for his phone and home address have deluged the Drummer offices. We simply forward the mil. the mail.

DRUMMER 118

V2 editor · vol 86

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TOC

Cover

Table of Contents

Masthead

Copyright

RUBBER: STRETCHING THE LIMITS

METAMORPHOSIS

THE BOX

REPORT

MALECALL

DRUMMER DADDIES

DRUMSTICKS

SAVAGE FICTION SECTION: THE DRUMMER MENAGERIE

Fly

Jason, Cat

LEATHER NOTEBOOK

SPECIAL CATALOG SUPPLEMENT: THE SOURCE

DEAR SIR!

DRUMMEDIA MOVIES

DRUMMEDIA PRESS

DRUM

SAFESEX SLAVESCHOOL

TOUGH CUSTOMERS

SLAVES OF THE EARTH

IN PASSING

V2 editor · vol 86

Audit — vol 86