OFF THE TOP by FLEDERMAUS

ROUGH STUFF

Scott Tucker has decided that other writing projects will prevent him from making a regular monthly contribution to Drummer. His last "Rough Stuff" column is in this issue. We are sorry to see him go as a regular feature but he has promised to contribute occasional articles in the future. The "Rough Stuff" column will continue to appear with a variety of contributors such as Eric Rofes, Pat Califia, Gayle Rubin, and, we hope, Scott Tucker.

THE BEEFCAKE SEASON

Now that the Holiday Season is over, the Contest season has begun. All over the country things are gearing up to select leather contestants to eventually represent their bar, club, city, state, or region in International Mr. Leather, International Ms Leather, and / or Mr. Drummer contests. Traditionally, Interna- tional Mr. Leather is held in late May and the Mr. Drummer finals in late June. This results in a very heavy spring season of local contests.

Centaur MC, at its winter extravaganza, selected Mitch Davis (Mr. New England Drummer 1987) as Mr. Mid-Atlantic Leatherman 1988. San Francisco has picked its representative to the International Ms Leather Contest, to be held here in late March. From Seattle, Washington and Portland, Maine to Orlando, Florida and San Diego, California, Leather contenders are strutting their stuff on stages.

Some people dismiss these "beauty pageants" as frivolous. But I have talked to a lot of men who have participated, winners and losers, all of whom feel that they have personally gained a lot from their participation. Usually they have made several new friends, and always they have benefited from the experience of putting themselves on the line. It takes guts to make yourself as vulnerable as a contestant is on that runway and those who do it learn about themselves in the process. And besides, it's fun!

So, if you've got a club or business catering to the Leather lifestyle / playstyle, sponsor a contest , or at least a contestant. If you've got the balls (figuratively speaking for the IMsL contestants ), enter a contest. If you can't do either of these, at least attend the contests and root for vour favorite.

In an effort to relieve the

"contest congestion" in the early months of the year we have decided to switch the Mr. Drummer Finals away from the extremely hectic Gay Pride Weekend in late June and move it to early September. This will give two more months for local and regional contests to be held. This year the Mr. Drummer contest will be on Saturday, September 23, the same weekend as the famous Folsom Street Fair. We hope you will be able to attend.

Look for more information on the Mr. Drummer contests in the next issue of Drummer.

BIRDS OF A LEATHER FLUCK TOGETHER!

LAUGHING MATTERS

It does! A sense of humor is important in Leather / SM as it is in all other aspects of life. One of the things John Embry is to be congratulated for, is his emphasis on humor right from the beginning of Drummer. This is a tradition we have been trying to continue. I was never particularly fond of balloon dialogue in photos or talking beer-cans , but we have resurrected the "Tough Shit" page in most issues and we welcome stories like "The Sofa that Ate Atlanta." We would like to publish a lot more leather / SM cartoons in Drummer but receive very little of this kind of material. So crank up your funny bone and write / draw for us!

A new cartoon series is starting in this issue of Drummer. "Gay Birds" is drawn by Judy Tallwing McCarthy, International Ms Leather 1987. Judy is a serious artist whose paintings, inspired by her native American heritage, will soon be receiving a major showing in Japan. "Gay Birds" are available as greeting and note cards published by Spartacus Enterprises, 907 NW Everett St., Portland, OR 97209. They SHOULD be available in "fine shops everywhere" -so if you run a "fine shop" contact Spartacus and make them available there too!

CAUTION: Every decision a person makes, including the decision to get out of bed in the morning, has some degree of risk associated with it. We strongly believe that each competent adult must set for themselves the level of risk he or she is willing to accept. Some avoid crossing streets in heavy traffic-others stunt-ride motorcycles without a helmet. However, to intelligently confront and accept risk, a person must understand the dangers.

While Drummer hopes to educate its readers on a wide variety of topics, its main purpose is to entertain! Works of fiction presented in this magazine are just that - fiction! They are not in any way intended to suggest or describe activities that anyone should-or often could-actually do. They are meant for entertainment only. In other than fictional pieces, we will emphasize safe sex with respect to contagious diseases and safe and sane behavior with respect to all activities and will try to point out all activi-ties which deviate from generally recog nized safe-sex - as well as safe-and-sane - play activities. However, Desmodus, Inc., its officers and stockholders, the editors and staff of Drummer, columnists, authors, artists and other contributors to this publication and other organs of Desmodus, Inc. cannot be held responsible for accidents, injuries or other misfortunes that result from proper or improper application of information imparted or ideas generated by materials in Drummer, or from other Desmodus , Inc. products.

PICTURES FROMTHE DANCE

PART I FROM THE DUNGEONS OF EUROPE

Years ago Terry LeGrand and Roger Earl made Born to Raise Hell, a film that still qualifies as the best SM video available. Several years later they did Chain Reactions , which was much lighter but had several memorable scenes. Now, after months of shooting in England, the Nether-lands , Germany and Belgium, they are releasing The Dungeons of Europe, a new series of three videos.

These stills are from Part One of the trilogy, Pictures from the Black Dance, which was released in February. Part Two, Like Moths to a Flame, and Part Three, Men with No Name, will be released later this year. So far I've seen only stills from the three videos, but they are great—the action is much closer to Born to Raise Hell than to Chain Reactions, and is still all safe sex!

Look forward to a review of Pictures from the Black Dance in a coming Drummer and more stills in the next Mach. Stills from the other videos will appear in future publications. Like Born to Raise Hell, this trilogy will be one of the major contributions to the erotic media for SM men.

-Fledermaus

For more

PICTURES FROM THE BA see MACH 14, to be published in March 1988.

SEND YOUR ENTRIES TO DRUMMER REPORT PO BOX 11314, SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94101-1314

SOCIALIST CANADA'S ANTI-PORN BILL

The following is a copy of the proposed bill on pornography as introduced in the Parliament of Canada during the month of May 1987. The bill is now in its second reading.

Bill C-54, introduced May 1987.

Erotica and Pornography would be defined, with erotica encompassing implicit sex-nudity and suggested sex.

The bill would define pornography in six sections:

Child Pornography:

Any visual matter showing sexual conduct that is conducted in the presence of a person who is, or is depicted as being, or appears to be, under the age of 18 years of age. It would also be an offense under the new legislation to possess child pornography. Penalty would be a maximum imprisonment of 10 years for the manufacture, sale, distribution or rental of child pornography. Minimum imprisonment for simple possession would be two years imprisonment.

Physical Harm:

Any visual depiction of a person causing, attempting or appearing to cause in a sexual context actual physical harm or extended bodily impairment to the person.

Degrading Acts:

Any visual matter involving acts of bondage, foreign objects penetrating the vagina or anus, defecating, urinating or ejaculating onto or into another person, whether or not the person appears to be consenting, also lactation or menstruation in a sexual context.

Sexually Violent Conduct:

Any visual matter showing sexually violent behavior, like sexual assault, rape, spanking, causing physical pain, whether actually inflicted or apparently inflicted.

Bestiality, Incest, Necrophilia or Other Sexual Conduct:

Any visual depiction of masturbation or ejaculation or explicit anal, oral or vaginal intercourse. In addition, restriction of any manner of commercial communication (which may include telephone use) that incites, promotes, encourages or advocates child pornography , violence, rape, degradation , bestiality, incest or necrophilia .

Erotica, Definition of This Bill:

Visual matter, a dominant characteristic of which is the depiction of the human sexual organ, be it male or female or both, the female breast, or human anal region in a sexual context or for the sexual stimulation of the viewer. Material deemed erotica would be controlled in terms of public display and would be restricted for public consumption to persons 18 years of age and over. Ed.: Needless to say, all publications of our company, and numerous other publishers both in and outside of Canada, would be in violation of the proposed federal law.

SOLDIER SENTENCED ON SEX CHARGES

Sgt. Richard W. Sargeant was sentenced to five months in a stockade, loss of rank, and a dishonorable discharge after he pleaded guilty in his court martial case to having sex without warning his partners that he had previously tested positive for HIV antibodies (he had not as vet developed AIDS). He will also lose all military benefits. A jury had wanted him imprisoned for nine years, but the sentence was part of a plea agreement. The soldier also expressed regret for his actions, the New York Times (Dec. 3) reported. The soldier officially pleaded guilty to one count of sodomy, two counts of adultery, and two of disobeying an officer . He had also been charged with aggravated assault and reckless endangerment. Other soldiers are also being charged in similar cases. In one case, a confidentiality issue is involved.

BIGOTS IN MICHIGAN

The town of Traverse City watched homophobia rise when a businessman asked to sell condoms in vending machines. Since it would be necessary to repeal a 1943 ordinance that permits sales only by physicians and pharmacists, Town Hall got involved. The community split when it became a gay issue and one city commissioner was quoted as saying, "Homosexuals are the filthiest, dirtiest human beings on the face of the earth."

THEN TAKE THE YACHT

Jim and Tammy Bakker were no-shows on Jan. 6, 1988 for a meeting with Assemblies of God officials over allegations of his homosexuality. Why? "Tammy said she has a fear of flying." This according to USA Today.

REMEMBER MEN'S LIBERATION?

While in high school in the sixties, our somewhat progressive faculty decided to begin a Men's Home Economics class to teach the boys how to cook, iron and sew. Not one male registered. The staff were at a loss as to why.

An alert teacher suggested a title change for the course and the following semester the class was overflowing. His suggestion : Bachelor Survival.

STANDING ROOM ONLY

According to the LA Times, a professor proposed a class entitled "AIDS: The Modern Plague?" and scheduled it for the 474-seat auditorium. Over 2,000 students tried to enroll; 550 got in.

GOOD NEWS FOR A CHANGE

Fifteen years after being introduced in the Massachusetts legislature, in 1987 the state Gay / Lesbian Rights Bill won a majority in both houses for the first time. The bill passed the House by a majority of 77-65 in May and the Senate by a margin of 22-17 in November. This bill would amend the state civil rights act to add sexual orientation to the list of protected categories against which it is illegal to discriminate in housing , employment, credit, and insurance.

The gay and lesbian community in Massachusetts has persuaded the state Democratic Party to endorse this legislation officially in the party platform and to include gay men and lesbians in outreach groups.

In 1988 the Alliance will work with other groups to implement a comprehensive strategy to carry the bill to victory this year. In addition to traditional lobbying methods, the Alliance will be mobilizing to target homophobic state legislators for defeat. "Our mandate is to work to elect supportive candidates to public office and to let gay-bashing candidates know that there is a price to pay at the ballot box for legislating personal bigotry into public policy," said Alliance Acting Executive Director Will Hutchinson.

The Alliance encourages national gay and lesbian rights groups to work together to exchange strategies and tactics by developing an effective communications network. Gay and lesbian organizations and media around the country are urged to contact Will Hutchinson or David LaFontaine at 617-828- 3039.

the thick mat of chestnut hair carpeting his chest and belly. Everyone in OPS makes jokes about his huge dick, but I'm the only one of them who has seen it in action. For some reason, most uncut cock seems to be long and narrow; Gerry's shatters this rule. It's only about seven inches long, but is the widest seen since Hannibal's mounts crossed the Alps. Now my particular favorite among the body parts is foreskin; and even when that cock of Gerry's is fully erect, there's enough flesh left over to partly cover the head. I get plenty of mileage from my own image-the laid-back, blond, California surfer type with the ready tan and the stiff dick—but Gerry Franklin is the image people conjure when they dream of hot meat on the hoof.

For reasons that would bore you shitless unless you have a Navy past, the Falls spends about a third of its time tied up at Subic Bay, Philippines. Since Ger and I haven't much to do unless the ship is underway, we pull shore patrol duty one or two nights a week. The other nights of the week are usually spent on liberty shacked up together in one of the flea-bag hotel rooms that surround Subic Bay Naval Base. We've learned to put up with shore patrol duty. Most sailors stuck with shore patrol just amble around in pairs, looking for squids who have passed out and need to be hauled back aboard. Gerry and I wander around for an hour or so early on in the evening to let everyone from the ship see us walking the streets in our dress whites, wearing our butch nightsticks and armbands. Then we go hunting.

We head up Rizal Street to a gay hangout called the Toast. Its gay connection means it is strictly off-limits to sailors and marines. We pop in on our rounds to ensure no squids or jarheads have gone astray and are being raped in some dark corner. The place is pretty tacky, mainly because the hustlers who work there are full of promises until they score your cash; then the best they'll come up with is a quick hand-job and an adios amigo.

Ger and I were lurking in the shadows of an alley across from the joint, shooting the shit but trying not to step in any, when I saw Roger. All the Americans you see on liberty are either sailors or marines—and it isn't hard to tell the difference. Roger was a sailor, and obviously new in town. He might as well have had "Bootcamp Squid" tattooed across his forehead; he is exactly the kind of kid you think of when you hear the word chicken. Since he was in the Navy, he was an adult, but there wasn't any way to tell it from his face. He was pretty small but had a compact, muscular frame in the Kurt Thomas mold, a boyish face, and about as much apparent sophistication as Minnie Pearl's grandmother . I spotted him first and knew immediately that he was our victim for the night. Aside from his build and youth, he had flaming red hair going for him. Nothing makes me harder, faster than red hair. There's something about the way stiff red hair feels as it's pounding against your ass that makes the juices flow faster. The green eyes and freckles that went with the red hair didn't hurt either.

I jerked Gerry back into the shadows; lurking in darkened alleys isn't easy when you're wearing dress whites. We watched Roger shamble along Rizal past the Toast, look around to make sure no one he knew was in the neighborhood, shamble back, and dart into the doorway. We gave him about five minutes and made our inspection. Sure enough, he was sitting in the darkest corner furthest from the door and already had a swarm of pros at his table. We both swaggered back, demanded his ID, and told him that the Toast was off limits to all military personnel. He would have to come with us. He started to give us the "I didn't know" story; Gerry pulled out his nightstick. The three of us walked out onto the street as if we were leading Roger the Kid to the chair. He was a bootcamp, but no fool. He knew what being caught in a gay dive would mean. Not only would he be restricted and probably sent to captain's mast, His Secret would be out. His friends would pepper him with jokes every time he took a shower; no one would pal around with him. He would be the local queer story the crew told when they got drunk. His life in the military was doomed.

When he saw we were walking him back to the gate, he started in. His first ploy was the sympathy angle: he hadn't known. He just wanted to see what a joint like that was like. He was sorry. We couldn't turn him in. He was out of the bar now, couldn't we let him go? Would we like a few buck dollars? When he mentioned money, I did my butch bit and pretended to go bugfuck. I grabbed him hard by the throat and smashed him into a nearby wall. As I squeezed his throat enough to make him squeak, I gave him several healthy jabs to the gut, growling, "Look, you little faggot turd, my buddy and I are sick to death of you pansy-assed queers prancing around. We're going to throw your fucking little ass into the brig-and hope to Christ that they lose the key. With luck you'll run across some jarheads who love squid ass."

"Easy there, Rick," Gerry chimed in, using the good cop / bad cop ploy. "He's just a little shit. Let's give him a break. What do you say we take him someplace, beat the living shit out of him, and turn him loose this time. We can always haul his ass in if we see him cruising again."

I unhanded his throat and let him slide down the wall to collapse into a rumpled heap on the sidewalk. Turning to Gerry, I said, "Why let the little crud off with black eye when we could ruin his fucking life? We need to take the twerp in."

Gerry gave Rog a quick kick in the side, played with his nightstick a minute, and said, "Shit, Rick, I really want to take him apart. Come on, dude, what do you say?"

As I was shaking my head, pretending to think the idea over, Roger chimed in that he didn't want to go in. He'd even blow us if we'd let him go. We snorted at the idea we'd let him near our dicks and said, "You'd probably like to be fucked up the ass, too, you little faggot."

He yelped, "No! I'll take care of you, but I've never been fucked. Please, though, I'll do anything else. I've got about $750 back in my rack I could give you. Just let …"

When he went back to money, I lifted him up and began on his gut in earnest, letting him discover what I could do when pissed. Since I've been broke all my life, nothing riles me faster than being treated like a TV preacher. Finally I said, "OK, Ger, we'll play it your way. Let's take him down to the cove and teach him what happens to faggots in the Navy; but before we leave him, you've got to fuck him. That monster dick of yours will ruin him for life. His ass will never work right again!"

"Shit, no-I'm not going to stick my dick up him. You think I want faggot shit on my dick?"

"OK, then, we take him in."

Roger shuddered with terror and lingering pain as I pulled him away from the wall. Just as we turned toward the gate, Gerry gave in. "Oh, fuck. OK. I'll try to fuck him, but only if I can really work him over first. I couldn't get my dick stiff for a faggot, but working him over might get me up."

I said that was fine. As long as I could see the little slime being ruined for life, he could do anything he wanted. Now it was Roger's turn to chime in. He yelped that he wasn't about to be fucked; we could take him in. No one was going to fuck him. I grinned at him and said, "Nobody's asking you, faggot."

We hopped into a jeepney—a cross between a jeep and a bus that serves for public transportation in the Philippines—and rode out of town, scoring some San Miguels for the trip. About ten miles up the coast lay our cove, isolated from the road and abandoned after dark. The moon shone brightly on the water, so we'd have a romantic atmosphere. Thinking of romance, I patted my pocket to make sure I'd brought my handcuffs.

"OK, slick, where do you want to start?" I asked Gerry. He thought for a minute, considering Roger with a gaze that would have withered an archbishop.

"I've never seen a naked faggot. Let's see if he has a pussy," was the answer. Roger turned a light green and started to struggle again. Gerry nodded at me. I moved behind the kid and held him with my nightstick across his neck as Gerry delivered one punch after another into his belly to loosen him up. The blows were so powerful I nearly lost my balance, but the vibrations echoing

through his ass got me hard fast. Roger started to gag and barf, so Gerry grabbed a healthy shock of his beautiful red hair, lifted his head, and began to use his hand to deliver one hard slap after another across Roger's boyish face. Soon, the kid's cheeks shone red in the moonlight. Gerry's hand started to sting, so I turned Roger loose. He collapsed into another heap, letting out a noise something like a clogged drain. My cock was already so stiff that it hurt; I saw another huge bulge in Gerry's pants and suggested, "Since you have to fuck him anyway, let's get comfortable. Besides, we don't want too much blood on our whites." We stripped in the moonlight, releasing our throbs to flop up against our bellies. Roger was in too much pain to strip, or pretended to be, so we had to help him out. I did the dirty work while Gerry stood back and smiled. The shoes and shirt came first, then I took my time with his pants. I could feel Gerry nearly slavering in anticipation. Would his cock match the hunky body or the boyish face? After I'd undone the buttons, Gerry couldn't wait for me to help Roger wriggle out of the jeans. He grabbed the pants legs and lifted, dumping the naked kid ass-over-elbows onto the moonlit sand. As I knelt down to pin his arms above his head, Gerry took plenty of time making a nearly clinical investigation of what bootcamp goodies look like. Roger's cock still had its skin, too; it was of average width but nearly eight inches, longer than Gerry's—not at all bad for a youngster. The full red bush at its base made my ass twitch. Like most kids, he had small balls and a firm. small ass. Considering his youth and obvious terror, I was convinced that Roger's ass really was virgin. My tongue longed to reach up into that pucker to lap up Gerry's load, probably laced with Roger's blood. I'd used my ass a lot, and Gerry tore me to shreds the first time; this kid was goint to hurt.

Gerry used his nightstick to prod Roger's cock and balls as though he were inspecting something he'd found under a rock. Roger was still, his eyes glued to Gerry's monster cock as it throbbed against his belly in time with his racing pulse. Excited in spite of himself, he lay in terror of the agony that would come when Gerry forced that giant manmeat up into his guts. Although both of us were as hard as we had ever been, the kid's terror kept his cock limp. It instinctively tried to escape the danger by retracting back into his body. Ger slid the foreskin all the way back down the limp shaft, exposing the tender, pink head. We both caught a glorious smell as the cockcheese hidden behind his trigger ridge was exposed. "Shit, kid, don't you EVER wash your dick?" He roughly clenched the young head in his fist and twisted it around, rubbing much of the cheese off into his hand. As he used his left hand to squeeze Roger's balls HARD, he reached up to smear the cheese across Roger's face and into his mouth. He raised one leg and felt the hot crack of Roger's ass. Roger started to squirm beneath me, screaming for us to let him go.

Sailors refer to asses as "sea-pussy," so we all knew what was coming when Gerry smiled down at the kid and said, "If you really are a virgin, we'll need to open you up before you can take me in your sea-pussy." He spread his hand across those two firm humps of muscle and put his thumb up against the pucker which lay between them. He smiled even wider and said, "I think I can guarantee you'll remember this night for the rest of your life." Roger started to beg for mercy but before he could begin, Gerry's hand flashed down. The dry thumb grated through the tender sphincter, sinking all the way in. Gerry's fuckfinger lay buried in the crack. He bent the thumb and gripped Roger as if he were a sixpack of beer. Virgin no longer, the muscles were tortured as Gerry lifted the redhead's ass off the beach with one hand as he gripped the ballbag firmly with the other. Screams of agony mixed with newly learned curses of frustration, echoing both his ancient fear of rape and a deeply felt yearning to receive the love only another man can provide. The feelings in his ass counteracted his fear to stiffen his cock, retracting that that delicious prepuce back behind his throbbing pink trigger ridge and stretching his frenum to its tender limits. He might still have been scared, but now his body was hotter than a marine division. We just needed to make his mind follow along.

Not available in stores!

1987 International Mr. Leather Video! stunning International o of this brawny blue-low you away! Order or's tape today!" ns Plaza, S.F., CA 94102

Mr. Leather ($59.95) ape set (save $20, $99.95)

DR

It was time for me to get into the act. Besides, I was tired of holding his arms. I reached over to get the cuffs and motioned for Gerry to flip him over so I could cuff his hands behind his back. Once that was done, I grabbed Roger by the ears and held his face right in mine, telling him, "Look, faggot, you're going to suck my cock. Unless you want to go home with your nuts in a box, you'd better suck good." When he started to complain, I rammed him down onto my pole. I went fast and far, plunging myself straight to the back of his throat and making him gag. I pulled out just a tad and plunged him down again. His hot spit helped soothe the yearning in my cock. I reached out with a foot to press against his hot, stiff cock and those almond-sized nuts. I could feel Gerry's hand action vibrating down against my foot. I pumped Roger's hot, wet hole up and down on my cock as Gerry played with his asshole, moving his thumb and then a couple of fingers around, loosening the muscles.

I made the mistake of paying so much attention to the ass-action that I found myself about to shoot. Too late to stop the blast, I plunged my cockhead back into his throat and used his ears to hold his face tight against my crotch. When my hips took control of the action, thrusting my rod deeper and deeper into that hot, tight throat, I lost track of current events. My world exploded into a shower of white delight as I pumped about six

My hips stilled for the moment, I came back to consciousness to hear him choking like a bastard. The pressure of my cock in his throat was bad enough, the quantity of jism was just too much for him. As I freed his ears, I felt part of my load dribble out of his mouth down onto my belly, dick, and balls. Pissed, I raised him by his red hair, held him still, and slapped the shit out of his face. "Pussy cock-sucker, clean that up," I ordered as I shoved his face back down into my crotch.

As he lapped at my load, his wet tongue flashing over my cock and balls, I felt myself begin to tingle again, but it was Gerry's turn. I hankered to see his performance even more than I needed to get off again myself.

As soon as Roger had me tidy, I moved out from under him. He was still on his knees so without my dick to rest on, his head sank to the sand. Gerry pulled his thumb out and came around to pull Roger's head up by the hair again, saying just, "Suck this." He shoved his shit-scented thumb into Roger's mouth. It wasn't easy to keep it there, but he managed. After a few minutes, he pulled it out and saw a few brown specks that definitely weren't liver spots. "You worthless faggot, you can't even suck shit right." Ger reached over, grabbed the cuffs, and jerked him off his knees the painful way. Roger lurched about a moment until Gerry's fists began on his midsection once again. There's something really bizarre about seeing one guy beating the shit out of another when they're both as stiff as they can get. Gerry knew how to cause maximum short-range pain while inflicting minimum long-term damage. About to crumple into his familiar heap, Roger stumbled so I reached down to grab his balls to hold him up.

I yelled at Gerry, "I'm tired of this playing around, I want to see him fucked—hard. Do it or I will." I tortured Roger even more by pulling him back down to the sand by his balls. I kept my hands on his ballbag to hold him still while Gerry moved behind him. I could see him position his pole at the pucker when Roger screamed out, "At least let me put some spit on it first!"

Gerry thought this idea sounded good, so he moved round and shoved his cock down Roger's throat. I had to turn loose of his nuts by this time, so I moved round to let my tongue wander across the familiar territory of Gerry's hairy asshole. Roger was too busy to notice what I was doing, but Ger certainly did. I felt his hole twitch and throb as I spread his muscular cheeks apart and invaded his most private tissues with my tongue. I left them wet, for I was determined that more than my tongue was going to follow soon.

Too soon, Gerry yelled, "No you don't, kid. We know you're a cock-sucker. We're here to show you what a fuck feels like!"

I went back to sit more or less under Roger, holding his ballbag

tight so he couldn't escape. I wanted to be where I could see both their faces. Over the cuffed hands, I could see Gerry almost drooling with anticipation as he replaced his thick cock against his new sea-pussy.

Roger was prime goods. The idea of opening up a new ass was a turn-on, but I knew there was more to his excitement than simple lust. The thrill of torturing a kid like Roger by fucking him up a virginal ass, seeing him cry out and scream as the tissues tore and muscles shattered was worth more than a hundred fucks.

Whether they fuck men or women, whether they admit it to themselves or not, a big percentage of any orgasm comes from looking down to see your partner writhing about and knowing that you are responsible! Gerry still hurt me like hell whenever he fucked me, but I couldn't give him the same rush as Roger was about to do.

Gerry knew that however much I might enjoy him, it would never be the first time, so I wouldn't be tortured to the max. Roger, on the other hand, about to be brought fully into the world of men, was struck motionless by terror laced with desire. He knew what was coming would hurt and hurt bad. He didn't know that we had worked him into a hot frenzy so that the pain would serve to heighten his eventual feelings of release. When we finally let Roger come, the humiliation, frustration, and pain he had experience would meld together to give him what was sure to remain the best orgasm of his life. Gerry wasn't kidding when he said that Roger would remember this night forever.

The kid's face, though, reflected no wisdom; it was vacant save for the terror of second-hand stories and the unknown.

A shameless voyeur, I looked back and forth between the two faces, enjoying the show. I reached down with my free hand to begin working on Roger's neglected tits, partly to amuse myself but mainly to distract his body somewhat from the disaster to come. Gerry reached over to grab Roger's cuffed arms to use as fuckreins and said, "Now you little son-of-a-bitch, you're going to get what you were looking for." He crashed through into Roger's guts. There was none of this tentative, pressing against the ass shit. Gerry jerked Roger's arms back and slammed his own hips forward, ramming into Roger in one swift, relentless thrust of devastation.

When I saw Gerry's eyes glitter, savoring the triumph of the moment of rape, I looked down at Roger. He was too busy taking in air even to cry out. Think back to the first time you had it, and you'll remember that your worst fears didn't begin to cover the pain. Wave after wave of overwhelming agony swept through Roger's body. Each thrust ripped and tore its way into new territory. The nearly dry cock found no lubricant until, mercifully, Roger began to bleed. The blood eased the pain at the gates somewhat, but the focus shifted further down. As the massive manmeat violated his guts, he felt his prostate for the first time. Each stroke of Gerry's thick shaft slammed into this chestnut-sized focus of anal pleasure; shudder after shudder of red, all-consuming agony swept through Roger's body. Then the screams began.

Non-verbal at first, they echoed the thoughts of man's most ancient memories. The cries of anguish and terror reverberated off the trees and out over the moonlit ripples. I moved my hands to the kid's head, smoothing down his hair and otherwise trying to still some of his fear. The screams became more verbal, proving that Roger had been in the Navy long enough to learn some new words. He begged Gerry to stop, cursed his family and every deity known to man, but the pain continued. No longer the violent waves of white-hot, gut-wrenching agony, the pain was now a more sinister and pervasive torment. His sphincter was still aflame, but it no longer burned with the pain of ripping tissue. Now he felt the grating pain of flesh against tortured tissue. More important, the pain had spread to include his prostate and the end of his rectum being hammered by Gerry's huge, throbbing cockhead. Despite the pain, when I reached down to play briefly with his cock, I found it iron-hard. I was tempted to move down for a quick taste of the cheese I knew still lived there, but I feared

WORLD BODY PIERCING EXPERTS

ONLY GAUNTLET offers safe stainless and gold jewelry especially designed for body piercings. ONLY GAUNTLET publishes a unique magazine for piercing fans. Send $10 for catalog and sample magazine.

GAUNTLET

8720 Santa Monica Blvd. Los Angeles, California 90069 U.S.A.

Gerry wouldn't last much longer.

I moved around behind him, let my hands wander across that carpet of fur that hid his chest, and managed to find his tits. Grabbing one with each thumb, I snatched handfuls of fur and used them to pull him back onto my own cock. Experience had prepared the way before me; his sphincter almost sucked my cock up into his guts. Gerry let out a soft moan of additional delight which acted as counterpoint to the screams of the young squid impaled on his dick. When I had fully entered him, he rediscovered his rhythm and we rocked to and fro in a trinity of delight. I lay atop him, my cock adding its own movement to accentuate his. Rammed up inside Gerry, I felt almost as if I were raping them both, using him as some delightful organic dildo I'd shoved onto my cock to rape young Roger. Only, this dildo added adventures of its own with every thrust. The muscles of his ass, delighting in my familiar presence, rippled along the length of my shaft like a milkmaid's fingers to bring forth my cream.

My hands explored Gerry's chest and belly, felt the cock ramming into Roger's ass, and reached under to squeeze Gerry's ballbag for good measure. I noticed how far it had risen, so I wasn't surprised when I felt the rhythm of his hips and breathing change. He ricocheted between Roger's blood-stained sea-pussy and my shit-stained pubes as though caught between two high voltage wires, unable to control his movements or to change the destiny about to befall him. A moan that began far in his depths grew in volume until it found freedom, joining Roger's relentless screams to echo over the moonlit sands. When he had no drop more to pump into the depths of Roger's manhandled ass, he let the kid collapse onto the sand but kept his cock firmly planted inside his newly explored love tunnel. The moans and screams helped me make up for lost time, and I was soon victim of my own high-voltage sex syndrome as I blasted my second load of the evening, this time into more familiar territory.

We lay naked for some moments in a pile on the beach, able only to gasp for breath and let our hearts slacken pace. Last to spend, I was first to recover. I rolled Gerry off Roger so I could finally get at the creamy treasure that lurked at his gates. I had underestimated the flow of blood, but its salt added a new thrill to the taste of Gerry's cream. My tongue lapped up what was left outside and moved inside as far as it could. There was no opposition to my entry; those gates had been broken open for good. My fuckfinger followed my tongue to scoop out what I could, but the real treasure lay out of my reach, far down inside Roger's newly christened love chamber.

Since the other two were still lying feckless on the ground, I took charge. I removed the cuffs from Roger's wrists and told him that it was now his turn to howl: I ordered him to fuck Gerry. Gerry started to smile and raised his legs so that Roger could have sloppy seconds, but the kid still didn't get the point. He just said, "You two are a couple of faggots! You dumped on me for doing what you do yourself."

I was pissed. The beers we'd drunk on the way down the coast finally caught up with me, so I figured I'd use the ammunition to advantage. As he lay panting in the sand, his ass leaking the finest load he'd ever have, I raised my dick and let a stream of piss hit him smack in the middle of his ungrateful face. He dodged at first, but Gerry, always eager for watersports of any kind, grabbed him from behind so I could coat him from head to tail, focusing especially on his hair. Gerry was into the mood by this time, but more inventively: "You've got the right idea, dude, but you're wasting your ammo there. Besides, you're ignoring the need for an antiseptic." Still holding Roger from behind, he fucked his way inside again.

Not expecting it this time, the kid started to struggle, but soon found that escape was impossible. Gerry wasn't thrusting away this time; his dick lay motionless inside Roger. I knew what was up only when I saw the expression on Roger's face. This was great stuff! Gerry was giving Roger a golden fuckin enema. He must have had a lot to dump because they rolled around in the sand together for quite a while, Roger trying to escape, Gerry locked on

him like an eel. Finally Gerry let the kid pop out and scramble away.

Roger had a problem. He wasn't about to take a dump in front of us, but the idea of being a Gerrycan for a half gallon of piss didn't ring his chime either. He decided to squat and let the piss out, but his ass had been busy, too busy. In addition to Gerry's twin loads of piss and cum, most of Roger's shitload came with it. We both kept up a running commentary to humiliate the kid. The ploy worked. Despite all that had happened, though, his cock was still stiffer than a three-day drunk.

'Now are you ready to fuck Gerry, you little shit?" I asked.

He looked at Gerry and snapped back, "You think I want faggot shit on my dick? I don't. But I'm going to fuck you senseless anyway. You'll probably like it, but I can't help that. It's about time you knew what a real man felt like."

Cocky in more ways than one, the kid went over to Gerry, lifted up his legs, and was inside in a flash. This dude had fucked before. He used skilled hip movements to drive his advantage home and a grinding ass once his cock was fully in to deliver utmost pressure to Gerry's fuckcenter. What he lacked was timing. He was in and had shot off within about a minute, even before I could plug him from behind. He was too quick, but he seemed to enjoy the ass nearly as much as I'd predicted he would. He was groaning "Oh, Jesus! Fuck! Oh, shit!" as his beautiful little ass juiced my buddy like a pro.

When he had finished and lay back on the sand, his cock limp at last, Gerry turned to him and asked, "Now what have you learned?"

"Not to trust faggots," was the only response.

Gerry sighed and turned to me. "We're wasting our time here, let's get back to town. First, though, I've got to take a dump." He stood on Roger's arms, squatted directly over his face, and let loose. Roger's cum blew out first in a giant wet far and then a long, fluid San Miguel stinky-shit. I was surprised; Roger was stunned. I'm sure he didn't think Gerry would really do it; I didn't think so myself.

As soon as he was done, he stood up, released Roger's arms and said, "I need some buttwipe." Looking around, he picked up Roger's shirt, leaned over dramatically and wiped his ass. He threw the shirt at the exhausted squid still lying on the sand, gurgling in outrage, frustration, and shit. We got dressed and left him there, washing himself off in the surf.

About ten days later, we were on liberty and heading down Magsaysay Drive for a hotel room when we ran into Roger again. I saw him coming but expected him to ignore us. He didn't. He came at us like a long-lost lover, pulled us into a bar, and spilled his guts. He wanted another go-round. He realized that he'd never enjoyed anything more and had had wet dreams every night since.

Gerry asked him why he thought we'd taken him up to the cove the first time. Roger answered that it was for a good time. Gerry sighed again, but at least didn't shit in his face. Instead, he explained.

First off, we wanted him out of bars like the Toast. In this age of disease, the last thing gay sailors want is for other sailors to become infected. Since all military men are regularly tested, we all assume each other to be safe. Sailors and marines who fuck outside the service with folks they don't know are safe are endangering not only themselves but everyone else. Such fucking is dumb. Secondly, this idea of sneaking around pissed him off almost as much as his putting up with the "faggot" shit from some SP's. Gay servicemen have to be careful, but most gay men like men. Thirdly, he admitted that he did crave Roger's ass and had a great time himself.

My eyes met Gerry's and we decided to change our plans. We discovered that Roger had just been stationed with the Cubi Point Air Det and would be available for the next two years. This time the three of us caught a jeepney back up to our cove with more beer and no illusions about what was to come: yet another Naval assault. П

Though this will be my last regular monthly column for Drummer, I'll still be contributing in the future as the spirit moves me, and as other work allows. In the new year I hope to begin a book on sex and politics, and my experience in writing for this magazine over the past year has helped to clarify my own thoughts and feelings. For this I thank the editors of Drummer, and the many men and women who have shared their own views with me.

Sex, Spirit, and Community passed, and I'm writing this just before the new year, sitting in my study watching the sun go down on a cold, clear day. I am thirty-two years old and already I'm begining to go bald at the crown, just like my dad. This is a time of mysteries and revelations in my life, a time when I'm recalling the past and wondering which way I should go in the future. I had no luck writing this final column until I gave up everything I first intended to say, and let a Tarot pack be my guide. I have no faith in fortune -telling as such, but the cards are richly symbolic, and can be read in a spirit of play and contemplation. What follows is a personal reading of the first twenty-two "Major Arcana" cards as they turned up in five Houses of Love, Work, Shadow, Light, and Self. This is only one person's meditation on sex and spirit, death and rebirth. I do think these symbols will resonate in the minds of many sexual heretics. and that all sexuality has a spiritual dimension.

The House of Shadow: Death stands at the center of this house; the skeletal Grim Reaper swings a red-bladed scythe over a black field strewn with human heads and limbs. Tarot cards emerged from the Europe of the Middle Ages, and the likely origin of the Death card is the Black Death which swept

Europe in 1348. Then as now, death and disease on such a mass scale caused panic and confusion, and people were desperate to find some meaning in the disaster. Then as now, priests and preachers spoke of the plague as The Wrath of God, as divine punishment against sin. Then as now, the great concern was purity and pollution; the poor were often sequestered in their slums and hovels, while the rich took refuge in their palaces. And then as now, people responded with both love and hate, with both selfishness and generosity in the face of death.

If I look deeply enough into the shadows, the faces and figures of the dead emerge-Tim , with his splendid elfin

ROUGH STUFF physique, and all his music silenced; Sean, healthy enough to play tennis in the Gay Olympics before he died; and Richard Hennigh, strutting and beaming in his leathers. Deeper in the dark are those whose sex - lives were open secrets-or final scandals: Liberace with his capes and candelabra, and Rock Hudson with no distinguishing drag except the All-American drag of normalcy.

Every Tarot symbol is an icon with many meanings, including Death. The sequence of the cards has varied through history, but the Death card is consistently numbered Thirteen. Thirteen is superstitiously regarded as an evil or an unlucky number, but it is also the number of lunar months in a year. The moon's waxing and wan- ing is a visible cycle of growth and decay, and the scythe of the skeletal reaper is crescent-shaped . All the heads scattered on the ground are like so many grains of wheat which must die in one form to come to greater life. So this Death means much more than the death of our bodies; it also means the death of selves and ideas we've out-grown .

Four figures surround Death in the shadows. The first is The Hermit, wrapped in a cowl and cape, lifting a lamp in the dark and supporting himself with a staff. He might be a medieval monk-monasteries and convents sometimes doubled as hospitals during times of plague, and today the Catholic Church runs a few hospices for people with AIDS. This Christian charity is mixed with a great deal of moral condemnation . But I also see myself in The Hermit, slowly searching and lighting my own path through all the darkness and death. The Hermit finds wisdom in solitude ; but he risks isolation at the end of his journey.

The Fool and The Magician stand beside Death; these two are secret twins, though The Fool is a Know-Nothing, and The Magician is a Know-It-All. The Fool wears bells on his cap and collar which announce his approach wherever he goes, much as medieval lepers were often required to announce themselves by ringing bells. Like lepers, The Fool rouses both compassion and contempt . Since The Fool is a wanderer , he also rouses fears of contagion in times of plague, but he is paid to be playful and to relieve fear and misery. The Fool's folly is made plainer by the dog which tears a hole in his pants, while he strolls on bare-assed; he always risks being charged with indecent exposure.

The Fool is just beginning his journey, and he also carries a staff like The Hermit. But The

Fool needs no lamp, because even in the dark he can find his way. He may stumble and fall, but like a cat he always lands on his feet. He carries a bag over one shoulder, filled with the herbs and plants he finds as he wanders, as well as things he steals or is given, and he carries messages from town to town. Though he is stoned and jeered at times, he may also find his place as a Court Jester. Like The Fool in Shakespeare's King Lear, he may be allowed to speak truth to power if he disguises the truth in jokes and riddles. The Fool finds wisdom in human company, but hides his wisdom in outward folly. When The Fool and The Hermit pass on the road, they understand each other without speaking a word.

The Magician may be an artist, an actor, an inventor, or a doctor. He or she may be any wonder-worker at all. The Magician might be anyone who performs erotic magic, including leatherfolk. At best, The Magician shares the playful, natural spirit of The Fool. At worst, The Magician becomes too proud of secret knowledge and degenerates into a mere technocrat and bully, a mental wizard and a moral idiot. The Magician may become a trickster without conscience, promising miracle cures for every disease, or making any weapon the ruling class desires.

The Fool and The Magician are descended from Hermes, the ancient god of trade and theft, travel and trickery, language and invention. Hermes was also the guide of souls through the underworld, a revealer and concealer of wisdom. Hermetic knowledge requires a journey and an initiation-otherwise this knowledge is "hermetically sealed." Hermes is a figure of somewhat amoral vitality, and the ancient "herms" were phallic monuments in his honor, often placed at crossroads or on athletic grounds. So The Fool and The Magician may bring you face to face with death, but with their aid you may be lucky enough to return to life.

The last symbol in The House of Shadow is called The Chariot , also known as Victory. It shows a crowned figure holding a sceptre and riding in a horse-drawn chariot. In a per- sonal light, I view this as my surprising "victory" at the International Mr. Leather contest in 1986, which brought me the prizes of new friends and travel. After one year I was happy, however, to lay that crown to rest on another man's head-Thomas Karasch of West Ger-many , a deserving winner. I confess there were times when I wasn't sure just where those wild horses were racing off with me-and naturally I saw more life, and death, in my travels than if I had stayed home. In another view, the victor in The Chariot could be Ares, god of battle and martial arts, who was the lover of Aphrodite , goddess of love. Their son, Eros, was one of the guardian spirits of love between men and boys. So while a personal victory recedes into the shadows , The Chariot may also represent communal valor coming to light—the solidarity and militancy we need to face disease and discrimination.

The House of Shadows is the underworld, a place of death and dismemberment, but also strewn with seeds of light and life. In Eliade's book, Images and Symbols, he writes of the healers and shamans of "primitive " cultures who take spirit-journeys into the depths to gain new life and wisdom. The shamans descend into death and hell and then return, as do Orpheus, Hermes, and Jesus. Eliade acknowledges all the mythological differences. "But one element remains immutable ," he writes, "and must not be lost sight of; that is, the theme of the descent into Hell for the sake of the salvation of a soul …"

The underworld is the home of the damned-the hell reserved for criminals and perverts in this life and the next. Priests, politicians, and pundits of all kinds speak of the "underworld " of street people, of prostitutes, of drug dealers and addicts, many of whom are poor and dark-skinned. And in the underworld of perversion, leatherfolk and sadomasoch-ists play a lurid and prominent role in the popular imagination. Many believe AIDS is Justice, and Death is the divine Vice-Cop .

The House of Love: The Sun stands at the center of this house, and beams upon two young children playing within a protective wall-so young that may be infants just taking their first steps toward each other. Both wear loincloths and their sex is unknown or androgynous . They may be the twins of Gemini (my sign). This Sun is steady, but love is both bright and dark. Symbols of change and bondage surround The Sun. A crowned and sceptred Sphinx rules over The Wheel of Fortune , which drags one rabbitlike creature upward and casts another monkey-like creature downward. In the card called The Tower, fiery lightning strikes a crown-shaped parapet from the top of a tower, and two figures fall to the ground. In the card called The Moon, two dogs or wolves under the spell of that planet gaze upwards, either dumbstruck or howling, and a barely visible lobster may crawl from a dark pool. Finally, The Devil stands in the cellar of The House of Love, sprouting horns and spreading bat wings while two horned figures are bound together at his feet.

With the exception of the central, clarifying Sun, the other symbols are sinister to some degree. Sinister is a word that means left-sided, or moving leftward , counter-clockwise. In Western cultures, the left is often identified with evil and perversity, with women and witches, with sex and sorcery, with change and all things strange. Witches were said to dance "widdershins" (counterclockwise ), and the queers of the past were literally burned as "faggots" along with them. It is an old gypsy fortune-telling custom to cut cards to the left with your left hand. The left is the side of your heart, a vital organ which is "eccentric," literally off-center. Left-handed children were often disciplined and punished as deviants in the past. The Tarot Wheel of Fortune circles leftwards-in a revolutionary direction.

The Sun is generally a sign of blessing, so the two children are enlightened within a protective wall. But without water and shade, the Sun becomes a fierce power, causing drought and famine. If love and sex are kept too strictly within "civilized " walls and boundaries, they either wither away, or sink deeper roots underground. Love is not only solar and celestial, but also lunar and infernal. Dante ended The Divine Comedy by praising "the Love which moves the Sun and the other stars"—and all "the other stars" except the Sun only come out at night. The light of day obscures these stars; only the dark of night reveals them.

The Devil is Lucifer, "Light-bringer ," a fallen angel, and in one sense a fallen god since he is one of the Creator's own creations. Lucifer, like Prometheus , steals fire from heaven and is punished with hellish bondage. The Devil is a Horned God-and he is a horny god, a lusty god, both human beastly, so he may have claws or the fur, hooves, and horns of Pan, the Greek Goat-God. In tribal cultures , the shamans often wear animal masks and skins to travel out of their own minds and bodies and into the wider natural and spiritual worlds. In his book Urban Aboriginals, Geoff Mains describes the resemblance of the leather community to a tribal culture. We too wear animal skins for their magic and power; we too have our rituals of initiation into an "underworld." The spiritual dimension of sadomasochism and bondage becomes clearer when we consider certain "primitive" tribal rituals. Shamans sometimes have their limbs bound before they go "flying" in the spirit world, and body-piercing and suspension are still other techniques of ecstasy. Obviously these tribal cultures are not practicing any kind of "Satanic rites." A shaman, however , is certain to have a different experience of nature and culture from an orthodox Christian.

In The House of Love, every card shows two creatures of some kind under a third figure or natural power: two children under the Sun, two people falling from a lightning-struck tower, and so forth. So these may all be the same two lovers in different forms and under different powers. The children under The Sun need the water, whose tides change as The Moon changes. When The Sun sinks behind the wall, the children will see shadows lengthening- "the shadows cast by the enlightenment ," as the poet Robert Duncan wrote. When night falls, they will leap over the wall and explore the world beyond,

meeting a wolf or a lobster under The Moon.

The House of Work: The World stands at the center of this house, but there is no planet in the picture. The World is a nude woman dancing within a wreath, surrounded by four creatures: a winged bull, a winged lion, an angel, and an eagle. Four was a number sacred to Hermes, and it is the number of Mary, in whom the three-fold spirit is made flesh. It is a number of worldly incarnation, encompassing East, West, North and South. So maybe this is a good sign that I will write a book after all, and give ideas some material form! Three other women surround The World: The Empress, The Priestess, and The Star. Here I see them all as muses and mothers. One other figure—The Pope—stands beside The World. For me he represents all the obstacles of orthodoxy, all the forces of censorship . Even the inward obstacle of self-censorship.

The House of Light: Judge-ment is the card in the center here, and it represents the Day of Judgement, when the Angel Gabriel blows his horn and the dead rise from their graves. No, I don't believe in this myth the way Fundamentalists do. But all myths are true to some spiritual degree. I suspect something of the life given to us also survives our death, though I doubt it survives in any personal form we'd recognize with our five human senses. The Day of Judge-ment is a symbol of our longing for meaning, our hope of understanding the Divine Comedy . At best, The Day of Judge-ment regains Paradise for us all. "By Paradise," Paul Goodman wrote, "I mean nothing but the world practical." So Paradise is that very woman dancing naked within a wreath, a woman who harmonizes work and love. Paradise is The World-this earth without impractical governments , without crazed politicians and generals.

Four figures surround Judge-ment , and the first is Justice. Justice is the imperfect incarnation of the spirit of Judgement; Justice means the Law fills whatever is void of Love in this world. Justice is the familiar woman holding the sword of severity and the balancing scales of mercy. The second figure is The Emperor, a figure remote from either genuine Judgement or Justice, but judgemental all the same; as proud and patriarchal as the Pope, and as dangerous in the secular realm as The Pope is in the spiritual. Strength is the third figure: she is grasping the jaws of a lion with great calm, meeting the force of the beast with soul-force , so both gain each other's strength. The fourth figure is Temperance, which might better be called The Angel or The Alchemist: this winged figure is pouring two fluids together between two cups, tempering this drink as a sword is tempered —to make it more powerful . Any moment now a rainbow may arc between the two cups as a sign of grace.

The House of Self: This house is constructed of all the other surrounding houses, and in the center are two crossed cards. The card above is The Hanged Man, a man hanging head down with one of his feet tied to a cross-beam, and his arms bound behind his back. (A photograph by Mark I. Chester shows a hooded leatherman strung up with a chain in a similar posture.) He is an outlaw strung up for public punishment , but when The Wheel of Fortune turns the world upside down, he will be among those first few people who will make sense of the new scene. Curious that this card turns up at the very center of the whole spread! This is the image I chose to place at the end of an article I wrote for The Advocate on leather and SM, and it still seems to me a good symbol of a leather community in crisis: "The Hanged Man is a symbol of crucifixion and resurrection, of wisdom gained through worldly disgrace. No pain, no gain … We are The Hanged Man. suspended and changing."

Finally, under The Hanged Man, are The Lovers. And we are The Lovers standing under the wings of Eros, who is haloed by a shining sun and who aims an arrow from his bow. "We are put on this earth a little space," wrote Blake, "That we may learn to bear the beams of love." The beams of love-as light and penetrating as solar and lunar beams, or as heavy and burdensome as wooden cross-beams—the same beams of that Love which moves the Sun and the other stars.

DRUMMER 114

THEP SLA by Mako

"I will push you the furthest, hurt you the deepest, love you the most." im Downes returned home from his freshman year of college glad to see old friends, but eager to return to the fun of the campus. He had had a great year, except for his swimming, which he knew had not lived up to his coach's expectations, and his own; but the coach had taken a chance in recruiting him, even if he had been all-conference . He was a freestyle sprinter but only five-foot-eight. That height went well with his lean musculature, boyish face, blond hair and ready smile, but not so well when stretched out against the six-footers who had also been all-conference. Still, he might grow and, if not, he was popular with teammates and with the girls. Not that that mattered much. He hid his disappointment with the dull sex they provided; he had learned long ago to hide his real desires.

Jim drove to the Legion Avenue YMCA on the night of the competition swim, as he had since he was fourteen and tough enough to be accepted in that elite workout . He forgot all about college when he saw that cherished building of crumbling brick and abominable architecture. A new Y with racquet club, men's and women's lockers, sauna, nautilus, etc. had been built just five miles away, but Legion Avenue hung on with a small staff mostly out of nostalgia. It was dirty, dusty, crumbling but, as was once said of Dartmouth, there were those who loved it.

Jim loved it. He felt at home as he walked through the front door and inhaled the mixed aromas of wood polish, antiseptic, lineament, and sweat; handed his card to the bored old man who gave him the key on an elastic strip which was all anyone wore in the pool; and entered the locker room as reverently as a church.

The room was crowded with kids from a summer swim team running around to the distraction of two coaches in T-shirts and bermudas. Despite much whistle-blowing and yelling, the coaches, in their comparatively heavy clothing, were too civilized to contain these nude sprites. Jim had been one of these tadpoles once and remembered well the joy of coming in from a playful shower after a hard session in the pool, excited by the freedom of a body unbound and not even seeing the coaches or sharing the same world. Jim smiled at their joy, but as he thought back old dreams arose too, dreams of swimming stardom, and he had to shake them free.

He stripped, slipped the key onto his ankle, and, like every athlete who ever used Legion Avenue, looked into the big mirrors above the green-stained sinks to see the proof of his efforts: the broad shoulders capped with rounded deltoids, the broad flat pectorals with rosettes of dark nipples mounted like gems, the rippled abdomen, the taper of strong thighs, the weight to his cock and balls and the dark blond thatch surrounding them. He was beautiful, a work of art he had labored hard at-but for whom? For silly girls who averted their eyes? He wanted to be seen and appreciated.

Picking up his towel, he hurried away from his confused desires into the showers. They were blessedly empty, so no one saw his half-erection until he could think it down. He wet himself down, laughing at the faded old sign over the doorway to the pool that reminded swimmers to piss before entering, and walked on

Immediately, he heard the sound of flesh smacking flesh, a gasp of pain, the plaintive refrain. He knew what was going on. He drew the towel about his waist, so that he could grow hard without rude display, and continued.

Smack! "I will not piss in the pool." Laughter. Smack! "I will not piss in the pool."

As Jim advanced towards the pool, he saw the muscular lifeguard seated on the bleachers with a red-cheeked boy trying to lie still on his lap. The lifeguard's hand rose and fell.

Smack! The ass bounced, the legs flailed, but the lad did not call out—that was a tradition, and traditions were honored at Legion Hall. It was no real dishonor to be paddled for pissing in the pool, but crying out was. "I will not piss in the pool."

Four swimmers in towels lounged about, enjoying the spectacle . They were about high school age, maybe college, and by their builds they were here for the competitive swim. Jim realized with surprise that he didn't know any of them.

The boy was released and walked quickly by, eyes and ass red; he was careful not to hold his cheeks. Following him with their eyes, the others noticed Jim for the first time. One came forward to challenge his right to be there.

"This is the competitive swim." He threw his towel off in preparation, showing a body shaven from head to toe. Knowing he shouldn't, but helpless to stop, Jim stared hard at the smooth crotch. This sudden display made an old fantasy only too vivid.

Jim had never shaved more than his legs because he couldn't even think of it without getting a hard-on. He stared stupidly back at the challenger.

"That's Jim Downes," the lifeguard called out with a leer. "He was all conference a year ago."

"Bob Baker," Jim said, recognizing the lifeguard now despite his enormous spurt of growth. Bob was over six feet, about one eighty-five. His body lived up to his press clippings.

"Welcome home," Bob greeted Jim. He shook his hand. "I expected to read about you in the papers. Off year?" He gave Jim a smile full of challenge and confidence. He was pulling on a sweatsuit but, unlike the middle-aged coaches, on him the clothing accented a sense of dominance, not separation from the

nudes around him.

"I read about you," Jim said.

Bob turned with an angry scowl that caught Jim by surprise. "What?"

"You made all-state."

"And the shoulder?" Bob demanded. He climbed up on the guard's station, towering over them.

Jim stood nude looking up at the young man, who suddenly seemed a giant to him; but then, wasn't that what he wanted in a trainer, the illusion of being in another's power? "Shoulder?"

Bob relaxed. The nude before him wasn't challenging, hadn't heard. The lifeguard still felt insecure about his injury (and his youth, but that wouldn't show), but by the end of this summer he would be sure of everything, especially his ability-no, his right—to control naked athletes in their progress toward fame.

"Rotator cuff," he informed him. "I've swum my last race. Now I'm putting all my drive, my fire, into those lucky enough, or unfortunate enough, to be under my control."

Control! That was what Jim wanted, Fire! That's what he needed. He had felt it a few times, and on those days he was unstoppable. He felt it now as if it radiated from the eyes admiring him, possessing him. His cock twitched and he knew Bob had seen it, understood it, appreciated it.

"Line up!" Bob commanded. "I work the fat off the asses I own!"

They climbed onto the blocks. Jim realized that this was the reason for the absence of familiar faces; the Legion Avenue competition training was for a special sort of athlete. It excited him to stand nude on the block with other males displayed around him, eager to win the Master's praise. Bob let them stand there as he wrote in his clipboard, his whistle held in his lips. Jim realized that the old regulars, his friends, would know what was going on here, that he'd be marked as one of Bob's boys. A part of his brain told him to think of his reputation and get out, but he was held in place as if chained.

"Mark!" Bob commanded. There was no youth in his commanding voice. He was thrilled to have Jim here; he had had a crush on the blond swimmer ever since high school, when Jim protected him from an over-eager beating during fraternity pledge week. Hard to believe Jim had actually been taller than Bob back then. Jim probably didn't remember, but Bob did, and he'd pay the debt in the way a dominant does: by taking Jim where he'd never get on his own.

They hit the water with the whistle, and all thoughts of sex were lost to the hard but even rhythm: efficient strokes, clean turns, and absent-minded willingness to follow the commands given.

Bob was very, very good. He drove them on through slow laps, hard laps, barking at anyone who began to give in to undisciplined , jerky motions; taunting their pride, masculinity, guts to keep them in line. Jim was working hard on his swimming, but each time he was singled out he found a new burst of energy; and in his subconscious, which was not even aware he was swimming , he began to accept the programming and the energy directed at him.

"Rest," Bob commanded. He did not grant respite, he ordered recovery, and walked up and down the side of the pool before them, writing in his clipboard, looking at them. "Nose, inhale. Mouth, exhale. You're ready to suck all right, aren't you-

Bob had a constant view of heads bowed submissively, white rounded buttocks magnified by the green water. These beautiful young bodies were at his feet. His cock hardened, and it thrilled him whenever a tired head raised and vacant eyes refocused on it with desire.

He crouched near a redhaired sophomore, pressing his fingers to the carotid while enjoying the flush of excitement so visible under the youth's thin skin. He leaned forward a little, so the crotch of his sweatpants brushed the redhead's face. Then, "You're out," he commanded as he stood up and walked away.

CHRISTOPHER RAGE'S

THE SH

Descend into an all-male sex den where every kind of dick-ass-fist-mouth action can happen …and does! A huge cast of the hottest men in Manhattan creates a steamy world of water sports, fisting, sucking, fucking, and J / O. An amazing erotic adventure from the Master of Sleaze $69

CHRISTOPHER RAGE'S MAST

"The last word in explosive S / M comes from Christopher Rage's MY MASTERS. You may have to go lie down after this one!"--Susie Bright, PENTHOUSE FORUM

"A brilliant shocker!" -- STUDFLIX-

"MY MASTERS explores the world of radical sexual acts as no other picture ever has!" -ALL MAN "New heights of sexual excitement!"—HOT SHOTS. "A tribute to obsession!"—John W. Rowberry, Infamous leathermen from both coasts $69

RAGE WAS ALWAYS SLEAZY — NOW HE'S CHEAP!

PREVIEW TAPE ONE--Scenes from TOILETS, TRAMPS, OUTRAGE, ORGY, and more! 60 sleazy minutes. A great way to sample, and a steamy hour in itself $39

PREVIEW TAPE TWO -- 5 sleazy videos-- MANHOLES, FUCKED UP, RAUNCH TWO, MY MASTERS, and more!--are previewed in a solid hour of intense, man-to-man sex… $49

BUY PREVIEW ONE & PREVIEW TWO & SAVE! Use the order form below to order Preview One and Two together and get two hours of raunchy sex for only… $69

Mail to LIVE VIDEO, INC

CHRISTOPHER RAGE PRESENTS SCOTT MORGAN'S

REAL MEN tangle in the kind of action that only gutsy know-how can pro- vide. There is a runged fishing scene, there is a sweet for furking with a food- here's businessMen who stip from suits to leather for some serious or never forget. $59

Note: For complete information about all the sleazy exciting videos (including some that are never advertised) send $3 and fill out the coupon to the left. This brochure pack may NOT be charged to your credit card. $10 discount coupon enclosed with information.

hoping for a reprieve, and then staggered off to shower. He had tried his best but had not progressed any further. Life was hard; Bob was hard.

"Breast stroke," Bob told them and smiled at their groans. "That should be easy enough for you girls."

The whistle blew and the workout continued. Fifteen minutes later Bob had dismissed another boy, who had to lie beside the pool until he was strong enough to leave. Jim had swum the last two laps with the terrible fear of losing his stomach and being dismissed, yet he had been the first to reach the rail.

Bob crouched by him. "Stay with me and everyone will be reading about you next year," he promised. "But I demand more than the Devil. I take more than your soul.'

Jim found himself staring at the cock bulging beneath the sweatpants. Smiling, Bob opened his thighs a bit, letting Jim look. Jim's cock rose and he stood back from the rail, letting his Master look down at the proof of his devotion.

Bob stood, "Back stroke!" He blew the whistle.

The swimmers arched backward and Jim's cock arched upward, clear of the water and visible to all. The others laughed but kept swimming. Jim blushed, but he knew it was right for everyone to know what he was.

"You got to be twice as good to be a faggot!" Bob yelled at him.

"Earn my notice."

The other swimmers weren't laughing now but swimming hard to beat Jim, driven on by Bob's words. His cock fell as he cut through the water, but his excitement didn't subside. Pain grew in his lungs and muscles, but his body was secondary to the desire to please his trainer. He was not a back stroke specialist, but there was no keeping up with him. He beat them both by two lengths.

"Pretty good, you like your place," Bob conceded. "You slaves rest while I lock up. But," with a glance at Jim, "I'm not done with my new boy yet."

Jim looked at the clock, Ten o'clock, What a workout.

"Ain't over yet," Jeff, a short blond warned him, moving over. "You can't even imagine where he'll take you."

Yes I can, Jim thought. He had imagined a lot with just his hand for company.

Bob returned. He had a jug of Gatorade in his hand and two safety razors. He knelt before him. "Open up." When Jim extended his hand for the bottle, Bob slapped him.

'Open up.'

Obediently Jim opened his mouth. Bob poured the liquid in, let him swallow, then gave him another gulp. "Drink for me, my hairy ape," Bob ordered. "I'll fill your mouth plenty."

Jim swallowed for his Master, disappointed when Bob took the bottle to the others. There only two left, Jeff and a tall brunet named Steve, both obviously excited, hugging the splash rail to rub their groins against the side of the pool; now and again they'd giggle at something Bob whispered. Then Bob came back, took a long drink himself, and fed the rest of the bottle to Jim in three long gulps.

Bob set the empty bottle down. "You didn't ask what it was."

"It said Gatorade."

Bob sat on the side of the pool, holding his legs out on either side of Jim's head, then resting his feet on Jim's shoulders. Jim stared straight ahead at the bulge, wanting to kiss it but unable to move.

"You have possibilities," Bob said. "I guess you've seen that I like my pets hairless and nude, reminds them of their place, keeps them fast in the water."

Jim looked down at his pubic hair. It was going to go, so that every moment of every day he would bear the mark of his servitude. He looked back up at Bob, who smiled possessively, then tossed the two others a razor.

Not a word was said as they walked to the showers, Jim escorted by the two hairless slaves who put him under a hot spray, soaped him carefully as Bob directed. They rubbed the scant suds into Jim's pecs, then abdomen, his cock and balls, before turning him, bending him, spreading his ass, working fingers into his pink hole.

"Not bad," Bob judged. "But there's a few hairs in the way." And the razors quickly removed them.

Jim was turned to face forward. His cock was aching hard, yet he felt a strange urgency in his gut, something not sexual. Anxiety?

The two slaves were shaving him now. Bob stood, arms crossed over his chest, staring as his slave was claimed, pink strip by pink strip. "You are my slave," Bob told him. "After you come, you'll fill with embarrassment; you'll seek to disclaim what you are. But your shaved body will remind you, keep you frantic with the desire to see me again."

Jim looked down. He was becoming fresh, new. He was being re-created as a slave. What was the strange feeling interrupting his desire to be used? Piss! He had to piss as bad as when he woke up with a piss hard-on. It was aching.

The slaves stepped away. They stood by Bob and all admired the new slave.

"Beautiful," Jeff whispered.

"To the pool," Bob commanded.

"Master," Jim stuttered. The word, so hard to bring out, sounded so perfect when he heard it. "Please?"

Bob turned. The others laughed, received a hard slap, and went on. "To the pool!"

"But I have to piss."

"To the pool or out of my life!"

Jim grunted but walked to the pool, his hand clenched to his groin. He climbed in. Bob stood over him, the other two sat next to Bob watching; and Jim finally understood.

"What's that sign say?" Bob demanded, pointing to another

"Don't piss in the pool," Jim read, knowing he was going to.

"Even if you drink gatorade and water pills?" Bob demanded. Jim said nothing. He was losing it and with the first loosening of his bladder, the piss streamed out, bubbling about him, warm to

"Mister Downes," Bob yelled. "That is not a toilet!"

Still Jim pissed.

"Your ass is mine!" Bob warned him, motioning to Steve, who went to fetch the paddle. Then, going to the bleachers, he sat down and waited as Jim crawled out of the pool and slowly draped his butt over the coach's lap.

Lying there, Jim felt the eyes upon him. He waited to see if the pain would be enough to take the excitement away.

"Nice ass," Bob admitted, squeezing it, opening it, possessing it. The others had climbed the bleachers so they could look down at the action. "You're quite a sight, but they've both been here. Jeff hates it. He looks like a little boy and has the prettiest pink hole." He pulled Jim's ass apart again to compare. "I think of Jeff when I want to fuck, but that's just vanilla. I'm saving my most secret dreams for you."

Jim strained not to rub against Bob and cum. He was filled with the joy of belonging at last. Bob smelled fresh and warm, Jim could not imagine belonging to a finer Master.

Smack! The paddle landed. It hurt, wonderfully. "Say it!"

"I won't piss in the pool," Jim cried out, living the scene. He knew that Bob felt it as much as he did, but from the opposite direction.

Smack! "I won't piss in the pool."

They kept the rhythm up for thirty, and then Bob stopped to admire his work. "Nice and red. Hairless. Mine. I love signs of my ownership. You will display them for me."

"Thank you, Master," Jim said, without thinking. It was all natural

Smack! "I will not piss in the pool." Bob gave him another forty, then let him up. They all walked to the shower room,

Jim's red ass glowed and Bob stopped him, feeling his ass. "Hot, red-hot. Sit on the floor and cool it off."

Jim followed the command. He hated the way the other two grinned at him, as if he were doing it for them; but Bob had commanded. The tiles were cool.

"Lay out."

Jim laid flat, spread his legs when Bob kicked the inside of his ankles, spread his arms the same way.

"I'm responsible for my slaves," Bob told him, petting first one, then another of the swimmers as Jim lay before them. "You were going to make my lovely boys swim in your piss, weren't you?"

Jim swallowed down a bit of revulsion at what he knew was coming. "Yes, Master."

Bob turned to Steve. "Piss on him!" *

Steve stepped eagerly forward, standing over Jim. Fascinated, Jim watched as Steve's eyes narrowed and he worked at the flow. The first short stream hit the blond swimmer like a scalding iron and he thought he'd puke, but then it was just a warm stream that Steve worked to spread over his body. The urine stopped as Steve forced a few last drops out.

"Goodnight, Steve," Bob commanded. Steve started to protest, but was sent off with a hard look. "Roll over."

Jim rolled over, spread-eagled again, and waited. His nose was filled with the scent of urine. His ass felt terribly exposed, he knew the next flow would hit there first. His anus contracted expect antly and he groaned at how good it felt.

"He looks good in piss," Jeff joked.

Bob grunted. "You got a wise mouth, slave," he warned. "Too much of my cum."

"I got a trained mouth," Jeff retorted, squinting as he aimed for the reddened ass. He was confident that he'd not be sent too far away, for he knew his Master loved his ass.

"Piss or get off the pot," Bob ordered, but he could not get mad at Jeff. He could punish him easily enough, fuck him even easier, but he couldn't get angry at him.

The easy banter hurt Jim worse than any spanking or humiliation , for he heard how much his Master loved his rival. Jim was going to be the best slave Bob could ever imagine.

Jeff grunted as the piss fell, working over Jim's ass and body. Jeff had seen that Bob admired this college pussy and he was just as resolved to keep Jim in his place. Wait until he gives you to strangers, he thought. Wait until he beats you until you cry. Let's see you take that like I did. I'll take his tist if I have to, will you? But his piss ended.

Bob kissed Jeff, toying with his ass a moment; then he slapped it, sending the slave on his way. Jeff looked back at the youth lying drenched with piss on the floor of the shower room. There was pure, hatred in his eyes, in his heart, but he obeyed his Lord and left.

"You're a slave now-my slave." Bob knew that Jim needed to hear those words.

'Your slave, my Master," Jim agreed. Just saving the words made it worthwhile.

'And what should come next?" Bob asked.

'Your piss, Master."

"Show me

Jim thought only a moment before he realized the answer. His Master's piss should not fall on the floor like a slave's. Jim pushed himself up to his knees before his Master, staring at the cock, anticipating the liquid humiliation to come from the little pisshole. He licked his lips before looking up devotedly.

Bob looked down; one hand held out his cock, one hand petted his slave's jaw. This was his best slave, not the prettiest, but the one he'd take the furthest.

"Don't be jealous of Jeff," he whispered. "You will be, because I like him best in bed, but I have the greatest plans for you." Jim's heart thrilled to the words. "You will be my prize slave, so I will humiliate you the most, push you the furthest, hurt you the deepest, love you the most."

Jim groaned. A tear came to his cheek even before fire began to flow from his Master's rod into his throat, setting his soul aflame, illuminating his most hidden desires to both Jim and his Master.

□

TIES THAT BIND by GUY BALDWIN, M.S.

HUMILIATION: WHAT'S IN IT FOR YOU?

Just as there are healthy and unhealthy ways to fly airplanes and ride motorcycles, likewise there are healthy and unhealthy ways to be into SM. Doing planes, bikes and kink in unhealthy ways can get you dead or injured fast or slow, depending . Naturally, this raises the issue of exactly what "healthy" SM is.

Any activity which adds something to who we are—enhances us-I call healthy. To be sure, this is, and must remain, a subjective assessment. As a psychotherapist working with kinky men, I have observed that those who do SM such that they feel (subjectively) enhanced are happier than those who are self-destructive , or guilty, or angry, or depressed or scared by what they do in their erotic lives.

Since anything powerful (love, fire, nuclear energy, politics, medicine, SM) can create as well as destroy, it is, I believe, useful to examine our involvement in SM to see that it remains a creative element in our lives. My bias in this column is that I support the creative in people's lives and oppose that which proves to be destructive. We must each define these words for ourselves.

Personal ads that I see soliciting scenes or relationships of one kind or another occasionally mention the word "humiliation ." Bottoms say they crave it or Tops require that bottoms be "into" it as a condition of responding to an ad.

Other ads code this interest by using the initials V / A (standing for verbal abuse-when I first read it I thought it meant vacuum action … anyway). I have decided that it's time for me to share my observations concerning humiliation as a relationship dynamic.

First, it is important to distinguish what happens in a single encounter from what goes on in a scene occurring in the context of some kind of ongoing relationship. A relationship is taken here to mean two or more persons who have a continuing emotional and SM involvement with some sort of negotiated commitment.

In many ways, there is less at stake in a scene between strangers than between, say, lovers or Master and slave. If a scene between strangers doesn't work or collapses for some reason, well, it's just another scene that failed. But have a scene fail between players who are in a relationship and the fallout can last for months in some cases.

What has all this to do with humiliation? Well, getting humiliated by a stranger seems to have a very different flavor than getting humiliated by someone you care for and who is important to you. The words of a stranger may not slice as deeply . They can be enjoyed for their erotic impact tonight and (probably ) be forgotten tomorrow.

A partner's humiliations, in contrast, can be honed to sharpness by intimate knowledge … lasting wounds sometimes result. A stranger is less likely to know where real wounds could be opened, so serious injuries to Self are less likely.

I bring all this up because in relationships, a deeply and regularly humiliated bottom can quickly become a very depressed bottom, "You-are-not-OK" messages can take root in the fertile soil deep within the Self. This is especially true in young bottoms , or those who may be on shaky psychological footing to begin with. And, guess what? Depressed bottoms usually aren't much fun to be with! At least, not for long.

I do not mean to suggest that humiliation in relationships always produces depressed bottoms , but I see it so often in my practice that I have concluded there is a real risk. There is a real difference between "hot talk" and serious humiliation.

Tops who insist on real humiliation and want relationships come into treatment complaining about their inability to find and keep "good" bottoms. A closer examination often reveals that they are looking for a psychologically indestructible bottom, one who will take them and their humiliations seriously!

Tops sometimes report that they are longing for someone to "break" as part of their fantasy. I have found that when "you-are -not-OK" messages are part of the "breaking" process, the spirit also breaks, and depression is a frequent result. The Tops who break bottoms without "you-are-not-OK" messages have learned how to end up with a proud and devoted partner whose spirit is intact.

What is also true, however, is that some bottoms like the feelings of humiliation as part of the sexual experience. How can these needs be met in an ongoing relationship without courting the problems of depression ?

Some partners have solved this dilemma in very creative ways. For example, bottom only gets into heavy-duty humiliation trips outside the relationship . Or, more interestingly, Tops do or say things they (Tops) consider humiliating but which bottoms don't read as humiliation

For example, Top may make bottom wear a collar in public because Top considers that doing so (and public reaction) is humiliation no matter what the bottom thinks. Bottom, on the other hand, may feel proud to wear his Top's collar.

Another example: some men would be unspeakably humiliated to be made to wear a dress, while others would be thrilled to do it (depending on the dress, of course!) No such solutions could be worked out (it could be stumbled upon, though) without careful communication between the partners as to what this stuff REALLY feels like.

There are Tops who must deliver their humiliations to bottoms who do experience deep and genuine humiliation. I have found that these men do get involved in relationships, but usually they are with strictly vanilla partners. The Tops don't want any lover who would consistently tolerate such abuse and the bottoms don't want to be crushed consistently, so they choose non-kinky partners.

My pet theory about all this is that humiliation as an erotic theme often impedes, if not prevents, male-to-male bonding , and may even be used as a defense against the intimacy that relationships usually imply. Other sorts of common SM erotic themes, by contrast, seem to enhance such bonding.

For example, a Top who sees himself as Protector and Benevolent Despot usually wants to play with the finest manimals (thank you, Jack Fritscher!) he can find and perhaps even improve them through his superior stewardship. One feels the possibilities for bonding here more than in the "you no-good faggot-queer" style of erotic interplay.

I worry about the Top who consistently likes to play with "piece-of-shit" bottoms. I wonder how he feels about himself (REALLY) if inferiors are all he lets himself play with. What does a bottom do with his head to fall in love with such a person, agree to be "shit"?

Clearly the inclusion of humiliation as an erotic theme between partners is loaded stuff and can have potentially fateful consequences for relationships . My advice for partners who want to or must play with this sort of fire is to talk together as honestly as possible about fantasy versus actual emotional reality, and then to proceed cautiously. Get feedback from each other at each step of the way. Stay real and respect limits!

Guy Baldwin, M.S., has a private practice in psychotherapy in Los Angeles, where he works primarily with those on the sexual frontiers.

DRUMMEDIA WIDEO =

PERSONAL SERVICES SWEEPS THE DRUMMER PICTURE OF THE YEAR AWARDS

While the critics and the entertainment industry pundits are debating who should get the Oscar for best actress, actor, film, ad nauseam, we can settle the debate right here for all of those awards in a new category: the best film about or relating to sado-masochism.

This year's winner of the Drummer Best Film award goes to Personal Services, a Vestron picture, directed by Terry Jones (of Monty Python fame), produced by Tim Bevan and written by David Leland.

The film, about a brothel for kinky people in suburban Lon-don , was released with such little notice last spring in the US that many Drummer readers may have missed it. Vestron Pictures, its US distributor, didn't even have press materials or still photos available. However, the film is now out on video, although you may have to hunt around for it. Check in the "comedy" section at your local video store.

Terry Jones, who directed Monty Python and the Holy Grail, The Life of Brian, and Educating Rita, and David Le-land , who co-wrote 1986's Mona Lisa, deserve the Best Director and Best Screenwriter awards. and some very loud applause for handling some very touchy topics with sensitivity, humor, sympathy and courage. The film gathers into its loving arms the most offbeat sexual tastes-from cross-dressing to slavery, mastery, bondage, discipline, and "piddle."

It even makes exotic the mundane, giving a new mon-icker to the lowly hand job, henceforth dubbed "the Papa-zoglou ."

Julie Walters without a doubt demands the Best Actress award in this hysterical comedy, based on the life of Britain's most notorious (and kinkiest) modern madame, Cynthia Payne, known through the press as Madame Cyn. Walters, a well-known British comedienne and dramatic actress, plays Chris- tine painter, a London waitress who rents flats to prostitutes. Not able to make ends meet through the indirect method, Christine decides, with her best friend and fellow hooker, Shirley, to open a brothel for kinky people. The results are unforgettable , and more or less factual.

Shirley Stelfox snaps up the envelope for Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal as Shirley, a dominatrix, nanny and school marm par excel- lence who gives naughtly little boys the "smack on their butt-butts " they so richly deserve.

Nor will you forget Danny Schiller, Drummer's pick for Best Actor, who plays Dolly, the maid to this pair of pros, and the dowdiest transvestite ever to shuffle about the streets of London. Dolly looks the perfect homely working-class housewife . But Dolly has a "willy," as Christine discovers one day in the church bathroom at her sister's wedding. The mother-in -law-to-be finds out, too, and so does the entire wedding party.

The Best Supporting Actor award belongs to Alec McCow-an , who plays Wing Commander Morton, a decorated war hero who flew more than 200 missions over enemy territory in bra and panties. "I should lock you in a kennel," Christine snaps at him. "Please, Madam," answers Morton.

It is Morton's privilege to enunciate the theme of this film, "The future lies in kinky people," he tells Shirley and Dolley while Christine is being arraigned on her first prostitution charge. Here, here!

The more times you see this film, the more levels of wonder you will uncover in it. The film's greatest marvel is how it passed unnoticed by the ever-more-obnoxious Censors. Personal Services has probably escaped notoriety because Jones wisely snipped any genital nudity, and because he ostensibly holds perverse sexual behavior up to ridicule. But the last laugh is on the moralists, because this film celebrates perversity in all its detail and glory.

"I believe in the family … but men are animals," says Christine to a police officer who asks why she chose her particular trade. "They don't really talk a bit of sense until you've got them despunked."

This may or may not convince you, but even the critics liked it. Like Nero in a rare good mood, Siskel and Ebert each stuck up a thumb. And the San Francisco Examiner, which occasionally drops a crumb to its many kinky readers, promised, "It will make you laugh hard enough to shake all the kinks out of your system." I would have rephrased that to say, "It will make you laugh so hard, you'll never feel better about all the kinks in your system."

The future lies with kinky people. Tell a friend, ol' chap.

—Kevin Wolff

CULT OF MANHOOD

If jack-off video is here to stay, perhaps it is because it is a ticket to a completely safe realm of fantasy. As gay erotic video continues to proliferate, it is interesting to see how it absorbs and incorporates the same conventions we are used to seeing in network television. Unfortunately, the same techniques of plotting and pacing that are successful in a 30- minute sitcom format do not necessarily work well in an erotic context. For example, Altomar Video's new release, Cult of Manhood, suffers from some pointless plotting. Viewed on the home screen, it gets off to a numbing start, then strikes a leisurely pace through several lukewarm episodes, before kicking in with some modest special effects and an anti-climactic circle-jerk finale.

The prologue finds a nubile young redhead wandering through a primeval forest (read Griffith, Buena Vista, or Central Park), contemplating a spectacular sunset while a breathy voice-over lends some frothy doggerel about "the ripening of my desires, the long slow process that turns the Boy into a Man, fully active within me." Everything is pastorale and panpipes until nightfall, when a deeper voice intones some even deeper metaphysics: "In the soul of each man, there remains a spark of primordial lust and desire … Each must answer the call to scatter his seed … in the eternal cult of manhood." Huhhh? Inspired by this, our redhead pounds his pud into the campfire and confides that he has "semen churning through my loins." After a sixty-second hand job, we see he's telling the truth. Given all the poetry, I had by now decided that this was to be the story of Red's initiation into the Cult of Manhood, Little did I know that we wouldn't see hide nor hair of Red again until the credits began to roll. I didn't know it then, but I was going to miss that redhead, because what immediately followed had even less meaning.

We move next into a long jack-off duet between two Good Ol' Young Boys in a pickup. Try to imagine the Dukes of Hazzard as a porn film. The two (rather plain) actors limp their way through an extended dialogue in an attempt to provide a plot where none is forthcoming. This becomes really irritating later, when you realize that all this talk has nothing to do with the rest of the movie! They crawl along (although their truck keeps moving) through a tepid declaration of Love Eternal, and then they start to beat off.

Since the driver has to keep one hand on the wheel, he begins at a disadvantage, but he still comes off better than his passenger, whose voice seems based upon Jim Nabors as Gomer Pyle. I think (and hope) that this was meant to be intentionally funny; but if so, he missed a perfect opportunity to have Gomer shout as he shoots, "Golly!!!"

Gomer reads us a travel brochure promoting the Fiesta del Virilidad (always pronounced very, very slowly), a one-week celebration of the Chumek Indians in homage of male fertility gods. Associated with the celebration is the legend of the Cult of Manhood, a tribe devoted to preserving the ancient pagan rituals of initiation for young males. Gomer says this Cult sounds "pretty heavy-duty," but his tight-lipped Buddy sneers, "There ain't nothin' I'm gonna find at this party that I ain't had before!" Damn straight!

After Gomer shoots his load, we are whisked off to the Sanctuary of Chumek, where things are pretty tame. The Chumek are a very strange tribe indeed, in that they run the gamut of physical types from a big blond bodybuilder in buckskins to a dark, bearded pair in chaps and bar vests (obviously members of the Folsom branch of the Chumek tribe). Indians with beards!? These Indians seem to have little in common besides general horniness, although they are distinguished from the country bumpkins in the truck by their seeming sexual sophistication : Most of the members of this Cult of Manhood are pierced, tattooed, or both. Unfortunately , the sex we see them having, as the "tribesmen prepare their pledges," is quite lacking in sophistication. Some fucking here, a little cocksuck-ing there-mostly jacking off. Admittedly, a number of these men are attractive, and their tattoos and pierced nipples are shown off to advantage. Finally, this video has started to deliver something exotic and mildly erotic, but it is, I'm afraid, too little too late.

We see our brave buddy Gomer arrive at the Fiesta del

Virilidad, which resembles a slow night at Mardi Gras but is probably a Halloween street party in LA (drag queens carefully edited out). When none of the Village People revelers will lead him to the Cult of Manhood , he buys some balloons and hails a cab. Still fretting about the tip, he stumbles upon the whole Chumek cult who manhandle him a little, and then the Rites of Manhood begin.

What lay in store for our eager initiate? Hot coals? Tickle torture? I prepared for the big finish: Tattoo and pierce this guy and let me watch! But nooo! The sacred rites involve some grabass, a baptism in slow motion, and—you guessed it— a hand job!

When Gomer ejaculates his way into Manhood, all the Chumeks (and their masks, costumes and jewelry) vanish. A dazed Gomer sums it all up for us: "Allegorically speaking, maybe the Elder represents the spirit

In fairness to Altomar Video, and to Thor Johnson (who carries a writing, producing and directing credit), I rather enjoyed Max Makes It Big, another Altomar release. Max is a slyly told satirical look at the rise (no pun intended) to porn stardom of an Ecuadorian immigrant with a big uncut dick. One of the things I admired about both videos is the use of mature "Drummer Daddy" types. Truly, Jim Ward of Gauntlet Enterprises (making a special appearance as the Elder) is the sexiest thing in Cult of Manhood, a believable warrior in his tattoed glory. Max also features some older men in a boardroom sequence where the aged man-meat bounces out, as the three-pieces are peeled off. It's nice to see some men over thirty!

My favorite part of Max Makes It Big is the closing segment , a "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" take-off with a voice-over styled after Robin Leach! Truly hilarious—it makes one wonder which Party Animal is going to show up next in an Altomar release. Perhaps that horny stud, Spuds McKen-zie himself!

—Ken Lackey

[shared layout — see scan of printed page 37]

[shared layout — see scan of printed page 37]

PAGAN LOVE SONGS

This is the fifth volume of verse from the poet / activist/ actor / songwriter Gavin Geoffrey Dillard, and there is something for everyone in his poetry. In this volume we are treated to the journey from boy to manhood , with Gavin's sexuality as the focal point. While the childhood verses seem cold and detached, they warm up going through going puberty to the point where it's impossible to put the book down. Gavin's reactions to the multitudes of people passing in and out of his life show a potential for joy and hope in growing and sharing, instead of the bitterness and pain we so often find ourselves caught up in.

Some of the verses are sardonic and will leave you with a smile (most of these excerpts are actually entire poems):

His father was the national chaplain for the Ku Klux Klan we made love quietly under sheets

I wasn't cruising him I was cruising his dog When he stopped to be stroked my hands rejoiced He was big and blonde and had a delicate waist His master was handsome too

Some have a lyrical phrasing I'd like to see more of: though darkness bound us in soft mingling hair the morning-star showed only tangles were there

The majority are erotic and as you read them you can see that you've been through similar experiences, and silently thank him for putting into words that moment in time.

Morning hours of the all-night disco Raymond and I still dancing suspended in space eight hours of LSD and TT1 only six people left on the twilight floor I will never be that young and irresponsible again , but please don't ever say that was wrong

He was Cuban I was frightened he smoked cigarettes I hid under the covers It was like that at first making love with no words the language that we spoke was our own

Pagan Love Songs is released by Bhakti, and they are calling it "A modern-day Huck Finn in which sexuality plays the part of the Mississippi." I see it more as "Jack Kerouac comes of age in the '70s"! No matter how you look at it, Gavin Dillard has created a work of substantial, if uneven, quality in Pagan Love Songs. It would be a welcome addition to any collection and a particularly caring gift for any friend.

The book is good and the guy is GORGEOUS! Check it out!

(See page 98, IN PASSING, for one last photo of Gavin Geoffrey Dillard.)

Pagan Love Songs can be ordered for $7.95 from BHAKTI BOOKS, 8306 Wilshire Blvd. #2656, Beverly Hills, CA 90211.

[shared layout — see scan of printed page 40]

[shared layout — see scan of printed page 40]

HAIRY TORS

This Guide was first published as "Virility Varieties" in 1976. by KRAUT

Hair is like a fingerprint. No two persons are exactly alike. But it is possible to categorize the various hairy chest "looks." Just remember that you are going to encounter those who overlap types, seem somewhere in between, or just don't exactly fit any pigeonhole shown here. Also, with most categories the individual hairs can be either fine or thick, changing the overall degree of starkness; and the hair color also affects this. Vive la diffe-rencel

PATCH SPRIGS (Figure 1)

Don't underestimate this type because of the scant amount of hairiness. Such subtleness can be very sexy in giving a greater feeling that you are seeing something you shouldn't than you might get from too profuse an amount of deliberate, bold hairness. This category is typical of a teenage youth, who may change to another type as he gets older; but it can also be permanent. It's characterized by a somewhat dense patch of longish straight hairs in the center breastbone depression between the pectoral muscles, with an abrupt change to surrounding smooth skin. This may or may not be accompan-ied by rather long, "wild" hairs hanging, from around the areolas of the nipples. Sometimes the patch in the center branches out directly to the nipples forming a diamond shape, which can then be termed DIAMOND PATCH; but, if the hair begins to scatter over the pecs, taking on a fuzzy spreading nature rather than the sudden change from smooth skin to hair, the look may more correctly fall into the next category.

Usually there are at least some pubic hairs sticking up above the waistline toward the navel, or a high-rise heavy-textured growth as shown in Figure 1 and further described in the next two types under a GUT CLIMBER subclassification. There might be only the gut sprig complemented by hairy legs and armpit sprigs.

FUZZY PECS (& Gut Climber) (Figure 2)

This type exhibits a more highly developed chest hair than PATCH SPRIGS and consists of short curved hairs covering most or all of the Pectoralis major characterized by an overall even density, but not thickly grown or matted together. In other words, the skin shows through everywhere , although sometimes a slight heaviness may exist at the center breastbone between the pecs, perhaps resulting from an earlier stage of PATCH SPRIGS. In other cases, there may be the opposite, a decrease in density, almost a bare gutter at the sternum compared to the even coating of each roundly covered pec.

This type may or may not be supplemented by a GUT CLIMBER in varying degrees of height and heaviness. If you wish to further subdefine the type, gut hair is generally one of three kinds: BELLY BRISTLES-short, fuzzy, coarse hairs in a fairly even density, although they may sometimes branch out from slightly longer darker center hairs (as shown in Figure 2), and can range from just a hint to a variety of widths. KEWPIE CURL—a linear group of lengthy hairs in the abdomen center cleft clinging together in a dark distinct elongated S-like curve reminiscent of the shape of the curl of the hair on the head of a Kewpie doll, such as depicted in Figure 1. TUMMY TENDRILS-a vivid combination of the first two, rawly reaching out together, as shown in Figure 3.

R&SHA

SHAGGY PECS (& Gut Climber) (Figure 3)

This type features numerous long chest hairs that naturally mat together in thick wavy swirls going in different directions to form a light and dark pattern, usually darkest and heaviest at the base of the pectoral muscles and up the breastbone toward the neck. It should be pointed out that not only this type, but all types, can rise into the hollow of the neck between the collarbones in varying heights, so you can further particularize someone by specifying high neck, medium neck, or low neck.

Some of the other types can look like this when the hair is wet and slick from a pool, shower, suntan oil, rubbing alcohol, or even a real heavy sweat; so it's worth a word of warning not to try to judge under these confusing conditions-unless, of course, you want to cheat, since wetness can darken even the lightest, finest hair and makes even the poorest hairy body look great!

In this type, as in the previous two, there can be either a bit of a GUT CLIMBER below the navel or a high-rise one, narrow but profuse. Any of the three types mentioned above may climb well above the navel. However, should they grow high, enough to merge with the chest hair, you have the types below.

TORSO "T" (Figure 4)

Perhaps the most aesthetic and sexy of all, this type derives its name from the extra-high, gut-climbing hair that grows together with the chest hair in an obvious blend to form a basic "T" shape, accentuating the ideal line of the torso's broad upper trunk tapering to a trim waist. The centerline of hair rising up the gutter of the abdomen is either very narrow or slightly narrow, and most of it has a somewhat sharp edge cleanly delineated against smooth skin across the stomach and lower ribs. The chest hair on the pecs often resembles the foregoing shaggy type, but it could just as well be of a fuzzy nature, except that in both instances an extra thickness usually fills the middle sternum area where it joins the gut hair.

As an example of types that combine, it's possible to find a DIAMOND PATCH configuration that clearly continues to a centerline of belly hair, which should therefore be termed a DIAMOND "T."

In a TORSO "T," Belly Bristles may fan out across the navel area to the brambly loins, like the serif at the bottom of a Roman-style letter "T"; but remember that if the rest of the vertical to where it joins the chest hair does not have a reasonably sharp timberline, you have the next type.

SPREAD "T" (Figure 5)

Often even more sensuous than the former, this type is an extension of the Torso "T" with short fuzzy hairs spreading from the centerline of longer thicker hairs across the entire abdomen, and reaching toward the flanks and across the rib cage toward the "sawtooth" serratus muscles that jut out from beneath the lats.

In some cases these longer, thicker hairs of the center vertical gutter also branch out slightly but darkly like tributaries along the horizontal furrows of a washboard stomach. In the SPREAD "T" type, it's especially possible that the outlying shorter fuzzy hair of the pecs spreads far enough to connect and blend gradually into the length of the armpit hair.

Dark blonds can be excellent examples of this type, as well as the black- and brown-haired guys whose hirsuteness is always most noticeable. Still another beauty in this type is a brunette with a dark red tinge, especially when sweat and a certain light bring out the variegation of the hue.

DRUMMER 114

HAIR & SHAV

PARTED FUR (Figure 6)

The previous two hairy types have an overwhelming, profuse quality, but in spite of it they still possess some of that tantalizing mystery of those on the first page, the sense that you are seeing something uncontrollably revealing. This type, however , features individual hairs so long, thick and straight that the look is almost animal and resembles deliberate fur rather than lasciviously exposed outgrowths of pubic hair. At the same time, this blatantly exaggerated advantage can be none the less salacious.

In some instances, there is a part right down the center of the abdomen that looks like it was done with a comb, while others may have a darker heavier center-line like the TORSO "T," but the distinctive nature of this type is the very long horizontal hair pattern, harmonious, if not quite continuous, up over the pecs from the gut laterally. Note also that this particular pelt seems to set off the nipples more than the other types.

In this and other types, the hair quality of the forearms, while not exactly the same, is also usually or ideally harmonious with that of the chest.

IR&SH

WOOLLY TUFTS (Figure 7)

This is the first of three types that are rather odd or rare compared to the former six, although they can be frequently found. WOOLLY TUFTS can consist of small to large spot areas on the chest and belly, with both having the same makeup or consistency, as opposed to the GUT CLIMBERS of the types previously discussed ; or there can be a more complete, "blanket" style such as is illustrated in Figure 7. The distinguishing characteristic to keep in mind is the short, very curly or kinky texture of the individual hairs, some of which seem to spiral together to darker tufts, taking on a polka dot effect.

HIGH POCKET FRIZZ (Figure 8)

This is the most unusual type of all and rather incongruous, but that in itself may appeal to some people. Its uniqueness lies in the fact that there is very little or absolutely no hair at all around the nipples or on the lower pecs; however, directly under each clavicle is a dense amount of short, straight, somewhat horizontal hairs stretching clear across the upper pecs, almost taking on the appearance of a big stripe. There may be a little breastbone hair and there can be a GUT CLIMBER in any of its usual forms and at varying heights.

BUSHY APE (Figure 9)

This type refers to one whose body hair includes all of those areas generally smooth and hairless, like the shoulders, triceps, trapezius, latissimus dorsi of the back, etc. Other types may have a trace on one or more of these areas, but in this type such parts are covered by it; in fact, just about the entire anatomy is encompassed to some degree.

A real-life example of this ultimate in hairiness may not necessarily be as gross in appearance as Figure 9 illustrates, because the hairs on these usually smooth areas are often finger and lighter, and not really as noticeable as the rest of the body hair texture; but they are very much in evidence never the less.

AIR & SHA FEATURE

TOUGH CUSTOMER

MAGAZINES

"The magazine for men who like real men—hot, hairy, butch men—presents an alternative to today's gay erotic entertainment . Young, clean-shaven bodybuilders with precision trimmed pubic hair and Naired buttholes don't do it for a lot of guys. BEAR will give you hairy faces and furry bodies, slender cowboys and potbellied laborers, sensual imagery and down-and-out dirt. BEAR will also give you what you, the reader, want. Your comments, contributions and criticism are considered and sincerely appreciated."

The above statement appears on the title page of BEAR's issue #1. BEAR is 28 5x81 / 2" pages of photos, letters, fiction and personals from and for men into HAIRY men. Three issues have been produced, and by the time you read this #4 should be available. The excellent photography of Brahma Studio is a major feature of this publication and lots of full page photos are used. But don't discount the writing: "Earthmen" by Joe Banks in issue one is an excerpt from a work in progress that I look forward to seeing more of, and "Nanook" by Kenn Richie in issue three is superb. I hope to get permission to reprint it in an upcoming Daddies issue of Drummer.

BEAR #3 has 71 personal ads from bears and bear hunters all over the US.

For subscription information send a SASE to: COA, 2215R Market-148, San Francisco, CA 94114. Tell them Drummer sent you.

DRUMMER 114

OLD RELIABLE VIDEO

For those of you not already familiar with Old Reliable let me give a brief introduction. For years Old Reliable has been providing photo sets, audio tapes, and more recently, video tapes that are unique in the field. Old Reliable's models are definitely NOT the type to be found in the typical video. His men are what might be referred to in the general category of "street toughs." Many are ex-cons, most are blue-collar workers, some may be hustlers (but that is seldom mentioned). They are basically straight, or at least straight-acting-men who are making a few bucks showing off what they have for

the camera. Virtually all Old Reliable sequences include a little talk, stripping off clothing, some bodybuilder type posing, and a JO session, usually to climax. Often the guys grease their whole bodies with baby oil, smoke a cigar, shadow box, and / or dirty talk the camera. Usually each PAGE 46 session includes only one man, but occasionally there are twos and threes. They never touch each other sexually but do often wrestle and / or talk about sex with one another.

VT-32, Hairy Guys, is a 90-minute special assemblage Old Reliable has made avail- able for hair fetish fans. It features clips of some of the hairiest men in Old Reliable's extensive collection. The first segment features Tom, a 37-year-old Italian muscle man with very hairy pecs, a dense thin gut climber and hairy thighs. He does a strip, poses, throws some punches and jerks off.

Segment 2 has three guys jerking off: Steve is a young guy with little body hair except on his thighs. Mark is a gorgeous 22-year-old ex-logger from the Pacific Northwest. He has a furry chest and abs. The chest hair extends over the crests of his shoulders and his back is also lightly DRUMMER 114 haired. He also has longish hair with full moustache and beard. The video includes some great shots from between his legs up at his hairy crotch as he jerks off. The third member of this trio is Butch, a 32-year-old Italian-Irish-German, again with a dense mat of black chest hair and a triangular gut climber that almost meets it. He has very hairy thighs, crotch, arms, hands and fingers—all of which look great as he jerks off and plays with his balls.

In the third segment two guys jerk themselves off. Keith is a beautiful young animal from Mississippi. He has a reddish

brown beard and moustache, furry chest and a NICE gut climber. Brian has a dense hair patch on his sternum, a sparse gut climber and relatively hairless legs, but a nice moustache and an even nicer cock.

In the 4th segment, Mark, the hairy hunk from segment 2, is joined by Bill PAGE 48

Smith, who is virtually hairless except for a very scraggly beard, for a pair of solo jerk-offs . Then Mark does some muscle posing and some pushups and we get to admire his backside too. In this segment he is nicely tanned from the waist up and creamy white from the waist down.

Segment 5 is a solo jerk-off featuring Patrick, a 20-year-old lean, well-defined blond. He has long, dark blond head hair, moustache, a dense sternal strip that thins rapidly towards the nipples. The hair on his arms, thighs, etc. is relatively long but light and nearly invisible.

Segment 6 is a solo for Butch, the other hairy stud from segment 2. In this segment he strips off boxer shorts, does a series of muscle poses, shadow boxes, and jerks off. Segment 7 is a solo for Keith, from segment 3 above. He poses and does a variety of karate kicks while his long cock flops around nicely. Then he puts on a leather cock ring and jerks off.

Almost all of these guys also have tattoos on their arms. All in all it's a great collection of hot hairy men. And Old Reliable knows how to let his camera caress their bodies.

VT-76, Hairy, Tool, has just been released and I've only had one quick look at it. All six segments are solo JO's with lots of posing, cigar smoking, shadow boxing, etc. One model, Chad James, is openly gay and has appeared in numerous videos. See ad, pg for more info on the models and action.

Both tapes are available from Old Reliable , 1626 N. Wilcox #107, Hollywood, CA 90028 for $59 + $3 S&H each. Tell them Drummer sent you.

LIVE BEAR VIDEO

Live Bear is a video from the publishers of BEAR. It features 10 models in solo jerk-off sessions. Here the similarity to Old Reliable tapes ends. Little else is even similar. First, these men have no compunction about being taken for gay. Though there is virtually no talking in the tape (and the silence is NOT enjoyable) most of these guys play with their asses while jerking off, something Old Reliable's men virtually never do. Some suck on dildos, or ram butt plugs, cucumbers, and hammer handles (!) up their asses. Most wear cock rings or harnesses, several have pierced tits and / or cocks. These men also have a totally different look. You'd expect to find most of Old Reliable's men behind a pool cue, or behind the stick of a bulldozer. Live Bear men look as though they'd be more at home behind a cello, or driving a piece of chalk across a blackboard. Actually all types and ages and sizes are represented. One of the guys could be a Zeus model, another is really quite chubby . Most are good Daddy images, but a couple are quite young. Unfortunately the makers of this video are new at the game and the technical quality is far below that of Old Reliable. The lighting is usually less than you would like, the camera stays too long on body parts and does not give enough total views of the man. The camera is also too stationary, not taking advantage of a variety of possible camera angles. But, particularly if you are into Daddies or bears, this is a tape for you. I look forward to seeing more from this company as they gain experience.

Live Bear is available from COA, 2215R Market #148, San Francisco, CA 94114, for $50 + $3 S&H. AFD

ILLUSTRATION BY KA

Hair in Art

While hairy men do appear in the erotic works of various artists, they don't seem to be represented in anywhere near their actual presence in the population. I understand that hair is tedious and difficult to draw, this might be part of the reason. Rex, Olaf, The Hun, Richard A. White, Leon, Zack, and others often do draw hairy men. Hair in a Tom of Finland drawing is rare, but hanging on my office wall is a photo of a portrait drawing a friend commissioned from Tom. It shows his wonderfully hirsute body tied hands over head to a tree limb. Tom's rendering of the hair is superb, I wish he did more of it.

There are two very talented and rarely published artists who primarily draw hairy men: I have seen the work of KA only in Hirsute, the publication of the now defunct Hirsute Club. The one reproduced here is from the many superb drawings that were featured in this newsletter . I know nothing further about KA, but would love to have him drawing for Desmodus, Inc. If he's reading this, or if you know him, please ask him to get in touch. The second is Jackal. One of his magnificent drawings is featured in the center spread of this issue. Jackal's large collection of drawings were done for his own pleasure and have rarely been seen, but they are now being made available to the public. We will be featuring more of them in upcoming issues of Drummer.

溢

[shared layout — see scan of printed page 52]

[shared layout — see scan of printed page 52]

enced TopMan) using the Dungeon-Master Safety Rating Scale. Straight razors can be the old-fashioned type your father (grandfather?) used. This is a permanent, tempered steel blade that folds into a handle. These can offer the best feel in the hand but, in this day and age, can only be used on a single person without being sterilized. Sterilized does not mean wiping the blade with alcohol, or boiling, but a true sterilization process. Even the best of us in our shaving scenes will nick and cut at times. The transfer of blood from one person to another must be avoided. The type of straight razor that I have been using is more practical. It is a blade holder that folds into the handle. Into the blade holder you may insert a single use, disposable, single-edged blade. These are specially made blades that are a little longer than the razor blades with which you are familiar, and are very sharp. By using this kind of straight razor you will always have a fresh, new and very sharp blade with which to do your shaving. The handle can be reused but each person gets a new blade. This will also eliminate the need to hone and strop your razor. While these activities can add to the excitement of the scene, they are difficult to do well and, frankly, are a pain in the ass.

Safety razors can also be subdivided into two types. The twin blade type sold to shave your face can be used on other parts of the body as well. The main problem with the twin blade type is that if used on long soft hair the two blades will clog up rapidly. You will end up rubbing the hair off rather than shaving it. The twin blade razors are fine if the hair has been clipped very short, or you are shaving stubble. If you are shaving longer or soft hair, the single blade safety razor is best. These are sometimes called prep razors because they are used to shave hospital patients before surgery. They may be a little harder to find but well worth the effort.

One final aspect of shaving with any type of razor is whether to do it wet or dry. I am not talking about your wet dreams here, boys! This is really a matter of personal preference. My own rule of thumb is that any shave can be done wet with a variety of lubricants. On occasion I will do a dry shave. This I only do on "virgin" hair. By that I mean hair that is long and soft. Any kind of short clipped hair or a touchup shave is better done with soap, oil, or some other kind of lubrication .

Prior to shaving, many people will trim the hair down using scissors or clippers. Any kind of scissors will work but be

TOUGH FORMER USMC SGT. This Reno TopMan loves shaving, bondage, discipline , dog training, etc. He is mid- 30's, 5'10", and currently in the market for a live-in slave. Send applications to TC-1263. careful not to cut the wrong thing off! For those who cannot be shaved, a pair of thinning shears will reduce the bulk of the hair while leaving the remainder at its original length. Barber clippers will do the same type of job but quicker and with a more even result. Clippers come in both manual and electric models.

Waxing is what I consider the ultimate in hair removal. This process literally rips the hair out by the roots. There are quite a few different commercial preparations specifically made for this procedure. By removing the hair and its follicle, the skin is left as smooth as the proverbial baby's ass. Due to the very real possibility of burning the skin with the hot melted wax, I will also rate this technique as an "R." There are many precautions to be observed . One of these that I will mention is that the head should not be waxed. The sheer number of hairs on the head will result in significant trauma to the scalp if ripped out. I realize that some of you do not even bother to grow hair on your heads so this warning may not apply to you!

Before I go on to other aspects of this month's topic, what about the man you are playing with who, for some reason, cannot be shaved or trimmed at all. He does not escape my devious mind. I just select individual hairs and pluck them out one by one. By the time I finish, he usually is begging for mercy. Andrew Kaye

For those who are into shaving there are two mail clubs you may want to check out. I know the men who run both of these clubs and can recommend them. Please remember, however, that both of these clubs are one-man operations and personal answers to your letters may take more time. These efforts are labors of love done in their spare time. What is quite impressive is the quality of their respective efforts.

W.E.S., PO Box 6316, Reno NV 89513: W.E.S. stands for We Enjoy Shaving. The Postal Service has asked some questions, so the man running this does request that you address the mail simply as WES. Please respect his request. The members of WES are called associates; each member must contribute photos, newspaper clippings, articles or story ideas, which keeps the newsletter self-perpetuating. The monthly newsletter, Stubble, was started in June 1984 with 20 associates. The December issue (#43) went to about 700 associates. There is also a quarterly ad section for associates to write and / or meet each other.

ENIGMA, c / o LaFargewerks, 2329 N. Leavitt, Chicago, IL 60647: According to the Statement of Purpose of ENIGMA (Erotic Neoprimitive International Genital Modification Association), "ENIGMA is a communications network of persons into genital modification in its many forms on both the fantasy and reality levels … ENIGMA seeks to foster and facilitate communications between like-minded individuals through its various publications and personal ads." ENIGMA News is their quarterly newsletter. Shaving is just one of the many forms of genital modification that are covered. Some of the other ideas, stories, and personal ads can get quite heavy. (I am fortunate to have an autographed first edition of Vol. 1, No. 1, dated March 1987.) Andrew Kave ones at that) can be excused when you consider that shaving is somewhat a self-limiting scene. Once the hair is gone you cannot back up and reshoot a scene. The video quality is excellent. There are momentary color shifts and a rare patch where the picture breaks up. But these only last a second or two and the fantasy is not lost in that amount of time. All of their tapes have a copyright date of 1987. If these are the first endeavors of Golden Images, I can hardly wait for their 1988 tapes.

Of the four tapes, my personal favorite is Baring It. This tape is 85 minutes, with two solo scenes and two duo shaves. Until now I had considered a pair of electric clippers as more of a cold utilitarian instrument. This tape includes the most sensual and sexy solo clipper job I have ever seen. Never again will I be able to think of electric clippers as just a quick, efficient tool. This scene is pure artistry in action. I wish I could tell you the name of the hot actor, but the tape lists the cast at the beginning without matching up names and faces. Suffice it to say that if you view my copy and the picture breaks up during this scene, it is simply worn out from multiple playings.

Bare Bodies delivers just what it says. Two hours with five solo shaves. I am amazed that I could watch for two hours as every hair on five bodies came off, but when the tape ended I wanted more. This tape includes a self head-shave starting out with scissors and electric clippers and ending up completely bare. Another guy gets so turned on that he jacks off his more than ample cock and cums all over his newly shaved crotch.

One of my all-time favorite fantasy (and reality) scenes is started in Clean Shaven. In the first of four shaves, a great-looking, muscles-for-days jock shaves himself. His team buddy arrives just after that and is talked into getting shaved as well. As this occurs, the buddy makes the comment that maybe getting shaved should be the team initiation. Mr. Muscles-for-days agrees and so do I. If any help is needed on this project, just let me know. After my reaction to that scene, for me to say the other three are just as good should let you know that this tape is also well worn.

Last but not least is Smooth. This tape also has four incredible shaving sessions, A college preppie takes the electric clippers and removes everything from his very hairy body. There should be a law against people like him. He not only is too handsome for words (with and without the hair) but he has a dick that will not quit. I do not want to promise you will see a full foot of hard dick, but if he only measures ten inches you will not be disappointed. It is hard for me to imagine where Golden Images gets so many gorgeous guys for their tapes. Of course, they are located in Southern California. Believe me when I tell you that they use the native resources

ADEO

The first batch of tapes are four from Golden Images. If you enjoy shaving action without the bondage scenes, Golden Images is for you. Their products stress the fantasy of shaving humiliation. No bondage, no discipline, no S&M-just hot young guys shaving themselves and each other. There is minimal if any dialogue or story line. All of the tapes have sound that was recorded live. That means you can hear the hum of the electric clippers as they do their work. Any time music is played, it is pleasant and unobtrusive. This is a welcome relief from the usual loud dance music that can easily date a product . Each tape consists of several shaving scenes unrelated to each other. Solo and duo scenes are mixed in such a way that you are never bored. Each tape also has a good mix in the use of various shaving PAGE 54 instruments. There is even an occasional solo JO scene after the shaving is done. Several variations of one scenario that is used I did not care for: one guy is talked into being shaved in order to get into some girl's pants. Now if it were some guy's pants, that would be a different story altogether! What is important is that no force is ever used. All of the guys shaved allow it willingly. The ever-so-slight coercion does help the fantasy quite a bit.

In regard to the technical quality of these tapes, it is quite good. I would give them an A-. The lighting is good and you can see every hair in great detail. On occasion a shadow of the camerman is seen across the set. However, with the cast of hot young men in these tapes, more than my shadow would be in there! The minor technical flaws (and very minor

PHOTOS BY GOLDEN IMAGES to the fullest.

Unfortunately, I must now share with you my biggest disappointment with Golden Images. They also have a fifth tape called The Cutting Room. This tape was out of stock and was not sent to me. Considering both the technical and erotic quality of the four tapes they sent, I can easily see why this one is back-ordered.

Capsule comment: Highly recommended ! All of them!

Each tape is $70.00 plus $3.50 for postage and handling. VHS or Beta. They accept Visa and MasterCard. Shipped discreetly by First Class Mail. Photo sets and other videos available. Send $5.00 for brochure and information to: Golden Images, 11684 Ventura Blvd., Suite 655-RV, Studio City, CA 91604.

Katsam Productions sent me six tapes DRUMMER 114 and true to my word I have watched every minute of all six. To do this required great perseverance on my part. Locking up the remote control with the fast forward button also helped. I have never in my life seen such a shoddy effort passed off on the buying public as a commercial product .

All of the tapes suffer from the same flaws—make that major problems. The set is usually in someone's very small and overly cluttered apartment. The wall of bookcases is quite distracting, although judging from the quality of the screen writing no one ever bothered to read much anyway. The acting lives down to the quality of the script. The technical quality is so bad as to be non-existent. I have seen home movies of children's birthday parties that had a higher degree of cinematic art. Katsam Productions is pioneering a new form of videotaping. Personally, the single light source and hand-held camera shots leave me cold. The one light causes glaring hot spots and casts harsh shadows. Anything not in the direct path of the light is too dark to make out any detail. The hand-held camera made me seasick. The constant jerky zooming in and out made matters worse, especially since nobody bothered to refocus . The zoom motor is clearly heard on the soundtrack as well. On occasion the cameraman trips over his own feet and you see the floor, walls, and other interesting views. This may be effective if you are covering a guerrilla war in Central America , but not in a porno flick. There are also long sections where the tape is running and no action occurs. There does not

PAGE 55

appear to have been any editing at all. The apartment set is so small that to get the entire scene in view the camera is in the hallway shooting through an open doorway . The color shifts throughout the tapes are unbelievable. Twenty years ago the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood may have enjoyed green skin tones one minute, and blue the next, then moving on to red very quickly after that. I do not. The clarity of the tapes is so bad even the FBI warning at the beginning of the tapes is illegible. With these comments applicable to all of their tapes, I will get on to some individual comments.

John F. Karr reviewed Shave Slave in Drummer #102. A quote from his review is included in the sales brochure from Kat- sam. After viewing the tape, I could not believe I had watched the same tape. Then I looked up and read the entire review. Now I know where Katsam does their editing. Let me give you two other quotes from the review: "An abysmally amateur- ish opening must be survived first off. A hand-held camera wobbles sickeningly, the lighting glares, and the strange choice

of music is badly recorded" and "I nearly turned the video off as hopeless." I can add nothing more.

Doubleheader was my next attempt to find something of value. After watching this tape the first time, I wanted to give it every chance. For the second viewing, I invited two friends to watch with me. Fortunately one of them fell asleep. His snoring provided more entertainment than the video. hand-held camera wobbles sickeningly, the lighting glares, and the strange choice of music is badly recorded" and "I nearly turned the video off as hopeless." I can add nothing more.

Doubleheader was ny next attempt to find something of value. After watching this tape the first time, I wanted to give it every chance. For the second viewing, I invited two friends to watch with me. Fortunately one of them fell asleep. His snoring provided more entertainment than the video.

Serving Two Masters is the sequel to Doubleheader. In this tape the victim is out for revenge for his previous humiliations . Unfortunately the detective he hires becomes his second master. Keith Ardent is a most welcome addition to the cast in this effort. As the P.I., his looks are in the class of Magnum. One of the main reasons to finish this tape was to see Ardent out of his clothes. Unfortunately, the few seconds of a naked Ardent are not worth the hours of tedium required to get there. Ardent's body and talents have been put to better use by other producers.

Mess delivers exactly that. The main focus is to smear the bottom with assorted food stuffs. You may find this erotic and I know some people do. I think the food fight scene in Animal House was more of a turn-on than this.

Barber College was the last of this series. The tape gets off to a slow start by taking four minutes just to show the credits. When the action finally does start, the bottoMman (their spelling) is getting a poorly administered whipping with a riding crop. Somebody should tell those people the shaft of the riding crop is not the part you hit with. Their S&M skills are on a par with their video production skills. After "treating" us to repeats of some scenes, the tape ends abruptly—in midsentence !

The sixth tape is Katsam's Preview Tape

This includes scenes from Shave Slave,

Doubleheader, mess, and Barber College .

Capsule comment: Caveat emptor! Kat-sam may think they are the cat's pajamas, but their tapes are real dogs.

All tapes are $69.95, except for the Preview Tape, which is $59.95. They require a statement that the buyer is over 21. Katsam Productions, 41 Bonaire Drive, Toms River, NJ 08757.

There are two other companies that have produced shaving videos. Control-T Studio has one out, but it did not arrive in time to be included. I reviewed some of their spanking tapes back in Drummer #110 and I would expect the shaving tape to maintain their high quality of work. Wings Video did not respond to a request for a review copy of their Master Barber tape. I mention it here so that you do not get Master Barber (Wings Video) mixed up with Barber College (Katsam Productions ). Andrew Kaye □

LEATHER NOTEBOOK by LARRY TOWNSEND

Dear Larry,

For some time I've really been getting off on the pleasure of anal stretchers, enemas, large dildos, etc.-various objects that stretch the ass muscle and reach deep inside. But I've an even deeper desire for anal exam equipment to achieve greater stretching and deeper penetration. For instance, I've heard that novocaine on the anal membranes is quite an experience. My problem is that an average person cannot purchase such equipment. One has to be a doctor, or to get a prescription from a doctor. I would like to know of any places to write for such equipment or brochures—also some literature on how to stretch anal muscles, with some safety guidelines.

D.C., Southwest

Dear D.C.,

I'm not sure just what kind of equipment you want. You can get an anal speculum (spreader) from any number of toy dealers, also a wide variety of anal catheters . I have seen some cone-shaped dilators and anoscopes in medical supply catalogues, but there are plenty of good latex butt plugs on the market that would work just as well. You are going to have problems buying drugs, and I really can't help you with that. Most of us have our favorite nursies to get these little specialties for us, and the trick is to lay in a good supply when you get the chance. For things that can legally be sold to a lay person, try: Arthur Hamilton, Inc., 315 West 4th St., NYC 10014.

Dear Sir:

I am hoping you will be able to discuss the feasibility or myth of a particular aspect of that age-old question: penis enlargement . The latest method to make the pseudo-professional grapevine is one that sounds too logical to be so well hidden … or even real. Just as our female counterparts can achieve HUGE breasts from silicone injections, can't this also be done to the penis? Just as a face lift or tummy tuck can work miracles, this procedure would be perfect for us "growers, not showers." (After amazing your boyfriend, almost choking him during a quickie, how embarrassing to be unable to find it or pull it out at the urinal!) My question is, is this for real? Pros and cons? Thank you.

Mike, San Francisco

Dear Mike,

There is nothing new about this form of penis enlargement. In fact, I think I responded to a question about three years ago. Anyway, it's been around a long time. It used to be called the "Las Vegas technique," because that was one of the few places where it was legal. I don't know of any medical reason not to have it done, but I have certainly seen some results that would make me question the wisdom of such a decision. The silicone can certainly bloat the penis, making it look wonderfully fat and luscious-until you start to use it. Because there are no membranes in the penis to compartmentalize the distribution of silicone, it has a tendency to slide around and form a glob-often becoming a large donut just behind the cockhead either as the result of some hot, sucking lips or the grasping force of a sphincter. In either case, it's not a pretty sight; and I don't know anyone who's had it done and lived happily ever after.

Dear Larry:

I am interested in exploring foot torture (other's, not my own), but there doesn't seem to be much discussion out there on the subject. I am particularly at a loss when it comes to tools. Can you help? Two appliances occur to me. One would be something like a thumbscrew, to be used especially on the big toe. Do you have any experience or advice on this? What do I need to watch out for? Is there a possibility of breaking bones with such a device? Where would I get one? The second item is vaguer to me. I have a faint recollection of reading that the Spanish Inquisition used something-perhaps parchment-which, when wrapped in strips around the foot, shrank and compressed the bones until removed. Do you know anything about this? I also wonder if you can give me tips, cautions, and / or instructions about putting on plaster casts, and how to get supplies.

Richard, Ypsilanti MI

Dear Richard,

The foot fetish seems to me to be not as common as it once was, but there must still be plenty of people out there who dig it. I don't know of anyone making thumbscrews, per se, but I have seen several wooden nutcrackers which have to be exact replicas of the old torture devices. Try your local gifte shoppe. They are, of course, dangerous. The purpose in using one was to break the victim's bones if he didn't confess, or whatever. The Inquisition wrapping technique was not restricted to just the feet, but might have been used on almost any part of the body. It consisted of wrapping several layers of wet material around the hand, foot, head, what-have-you, and letting it shrink as it dried. I think that parchment was used, but untanned leather or even animal gut was probably more common . Again, the old inquisitors were not particularly concerned about their victims' welfare, so these techniques are dangerous. They will not only break bones, but may cause vascular or neurological damage, even gangrene if left in place too long. Plaster casts are easy. You can buy the stuff over the counter at most pharmacies, and if you check the medical section of your favorite bookstore you'll find more than you ever wanted to know about application. Of course, the bigger problem is getting it off, and they don't always tell you as much about that.

Dear Larry,

We have corresponded before . I created the hankie code for diaper boys, carried in issue 69, and you ran my letter in issue 73. My reason for writing is to tell you that most of us "diapermen" have in our "layettes " one of the most versatile safe sex toys around-adult-sized vinyl baby pants! Don't laugh! Designed to be snug at the waist and legs to prevent leaks, and roomy enough to contain thick diapers, they are great without diapers for safe sex. With one's partner in his "baby pants," you can suck, lick, rim, etc., in complete safety. And if you are into pee or scat, you can do that, too; and it is safely contained. It is sort of a crotch and buns condom. And, they are boilable!

C.T., Los Angeles

Dear C.T.,

Oh, to what lengths will this miserable plague drive us? Your comments remind me of that wonderful old limerick:

There was once a young man from Racine.

Who invented a fucking machine.

Concave or convex, T'would fit either sex,

And was perfectly simple to clean.

If you would like to have Larry Townsend address a particular problem or issue, you can write him c / o Leather Notebook, Drummer, PO Box 11314, San Francisco, CA 94101-1314.

[shared layout — see scan of printed page 91]

[shared layout — see scan of printed page 91]

USA / CANADA CLUB LISTINGS

Club names marked with an asterisk (*) are new to this listing or have an address change or correction. Club names listed in regular type, not bold face, have had mail returned from the address listed; if you can provide a correction, please do so.

(S / M) indicates a men's club with a primary interest in S / M; (W) indicates a women's leather-S / M club; (Mixed S / M) indicates an S / M club that includes men and women, hetero-, homo- and bi-sexual; (JO) indicates men's jerk-off or masturbation clubs; (F) indicates a special interest (or fetish) club, such as ones specializing in fisting, uniforms, bondage, wrestling, mud, etc.; (FN) is used for clubs that are primarily national or international, whose main activity is publishing ads or a roster-they may or may not have periodic meetings; (FL) is used for clubs that primarily meet locally for active sessions, even though they may have a national or international membership. The nature of the special interest is usually evident in the name. No special indication is placed beside men's Leather-Levi-motorcycle or social clubs; (X) indicates those organizations that we want to list, yet which do not fit into any of the above categories.

If any club wishes to change its listing, please let us know. Send new listings or updates to Club Lists, PO Box 11314, San Francisco, CA 94101. Notifications of incorrect addresses or defunct organizations will be

Academy Uniform Club (FL) 1044 23rd St San Diego, CA 92102

Ace (W) PO Box 261 Annex Station Providence, RI 02901

Adventurers—Suncoast MC PO Box 8043 St. Petersburg, FL 33738

*American Leather Federation PO Box 5079 Phoenix, AZ 85010-5079

American Uniform Association (FN) PO Box 1037 Bowling Green Station New York, NY 10274

American Uniform Association (FL) PO Box 86086 N. Vancouver, BC V7L 4J5 Canada

Argonauts MC PO Box 3331 Los Angeles, CA 90028

Argonauts of Wisconsin PO Box 1285 Green Bay, WI 54305

Arizona Rangers MC PO Box 13074 Phoenix, AZ 85002

Atlantis MC PO Box 54748 Atlanta, GA 30308

Atons of Minneapolis PO Box 2032 Dodge Center, MI 55402

Avatar (S / M) 7869 Santa Monica Blvd. #316 Los Angeles, CA 90046 818-A-IN-LINE

Ball Club (FN) PO Box 1501 Pomona, CA 91769

Barbary Coasters MC PO Box 14251 Station 6 San Francisco, CA 94114 Basic Training 120 S. Pinecrest Bolingbrook, IL 60439

*Baton Rouge / New Orleans Wrestling Club (FL) 840 Hearthstone Di Baton Rouge, LA 70806

Beer Town Badgers PO Box 166 Milwaukee, WI 53201

*B.G. Wrestling Club (FL) B.G. Enterpris PO Box 5291 Huntington Beach, CA 92615-5291

Black Fire (S / M) Box 354 Univer, Sta. Syracuse, NY 13210

Black Guard PO Box 8989 Minneapolis, MN 55418

Blackhawk MC 1025 12th St. Rock Island, IL 61201

*Black Star MC c / o The Loading Dock 3400 S. Orange Blossom Tr. Orlando, FL 32809

*Blazers Leather / Levi Association (formerly Tampa Bay Blazers) PO Box 3166 Venice, FL 34293

Blue Max Cycle Club PO Box 233 Main Station St. Louis, MO 63166

Blue Max MC PO Box 39522 Los Angeles, CA 90039

Boots (FN) PO Box 48577 Bentall #3 595 Burrard St. Vancouver, BC V7X 1A3 Canada

Border Riders MC PO Box 21152 Seattle, WA 98111

Bound & Determined (W) O Box 602 Hadley, MA 01035

PO Box 190471 Dallas, TX 75219 Briar Rose (W)

PO Box 44 Westerville, OH 43081

The Brotherhood PO Box 1346 Tucson, AZ 85702

The Brotherhood PO Box 29345 Los Angeles, CA 90029

Brotherhood of Man MC PO Box 5 Hollywood, FL 33022 Brothers MC

Buccaneers MC 1901 Waters Edge Dr. Cartier, MS 39553

Bucks MC PO Box 99 Buckingham, PA 18912

*Button Up (FN) (501 Levis Club) PO Box 65643 Los Angeles, CA 90065

California Cyclemen MC 3143 33rd St San Diego, CA 92104

*California Eagles MC PO Box 14665 San Francisco, CA 94114-0665

California Motor Club Box 981 San Francisco, CA 94101

Castaways MC PO Box 1697 Milwaukee, WI 54305

PO Box 912 Harrisburg, PA 17108-0912 Centurions LL MC c / o Tradewinds 717 Franklin Rd. Roanoke, VA 24061

Centurions of Columbus PO 09208 Columbus, OH 43209

San Francisco, CA 94114 Chicago Cossacks PO Box 2512

Chicago Hellfire Club (S / M) (Windy City Hellfire Club, Inc.) PO Box 5426

Cigar Studs (FN) PO Box 14344 San Antonio, TX 78212

Cin City Cycle Club PO Box 1151 Cincinnati, OH 45202

City Bikers MC PO Box 9816 Denver, CO 80209

The Club (S / M) PO Box 1292 Omaha, NE 68101-1292

Club Mud (FN) Box 2 Rio Nido, CA 95471

LEATHER WOMEN! Scooter Jenkins, center, is Ms San Francisco Leather 1988. Shadow Morton, left, Ms San Francisco Leather 1987, and Judy Tallwing McCarthy, right, International Ms Leather 1987, were there to offer congratulations. Scooter will be San Francisco's representative in the Second Annual IMsL contest to be held March 26.

IRON CROSS MC

Iron Cross MC of Montreal will celebrate their 16th Anniversary on May 27 through 29, 1988. The $60 (US) registration fee does not include lodgings but the club will assist you with suitable arrangements at a hotel near their clubhouse. For information contact Iron Cross MC, PO Box 1721 Station A, Montreal PQ, H3C 3A5, Canada. Or phone Marco at 514 / 931-2202, or David at 617 / 734-8507.

—Donald W. Warden

INTERNATIONAL MS LEATHER II

On Saturday, March 26, 1988 the Second Annual International Ms Leather Competition will be held at San Francisco's Gift Center Pavilion. Applications are now being accepted from contestants throughout the world. The winner of the contest will represent leatherwomen at events and fundraisers worldwide.

International Ms Leather is a non-profit organization whose purpose is to support and promote a positive image of women in leather and to raise funds for AIDS and other charities. In 1987, IMsL successfully raised $22,000. Profits from the first annual contest were divided among 5 AIDS service organizations, including the AIDS Emergency Fund, Project AWARE and the Women's AIDS Network. This year's beneficiaries will be Project Open Hand, The Names Project and The Lyon-Martin Clinic.

The 1987 competition drew 15 contestants from around the United States vying for the title of International Ms Leather. This year's contest is expected to feature more than 30 competitors from around the world in an extravaganza of leather and exciting, top quality entertainment. Contestants may be sponsored by a community, a business establishment or organization or they may enter as self-sponsored individuals. The contest is open to all women, regardless of affectional preference-IMsL celebrates the diversity of the leather community! Those interested in competing or sponsoring a contestant should contact IMsL, PO Box 146504, San Francisco, CA 94114.

Volunteers are also needed to help with this extra-ordinary event and with our many precontest events and fundraisers. Enthusiasm and interest are all that is required. For inquiries or to volunteer, call Joy at 415 / 863-9413.

—Joy Schulenburg

WASHINGTON STATE MR. LEATHER 1988

The Washington State Mr. Leather 1988 contest, produced by the Seattle Eagle, will be held at the Seattle Boxing Club, 918 East Pike, Seattle, WA 98122 on Sunday, March 20th at 6 PM.

USA / CANADA LISTINGS

Cocksuckers Club of America (FN) PO Box 723 Sun Valley, CA 91353-0723

Colorado MC 441 Knox Ct.

Denver, CO 80204 Colt 45s

PO Box 66804 Houston, TX 77006 Committee to Preserve our

Sexual & Civil Liberties (X) PO Box 1592 San Francisco, CA 94101

Conductors Leather Levi PO Box 40261 Nashville, TN 37204

Conquistadors MC Inc. PO Box 5591 Orlando, FL 32805

Constantines MC PO Box 4964 San Francisco, CA 94101

Copperstate Leathermen's Association PO Box 44051

Cornhaulers 4161 / 2 F. 5th St.

Corps of Rangers PO Box 1952

Corpus Christi MC PO Box 3532 Corpus Christi, TX 78404

Country Men PO Box 1362

C.S.C.M.S. 1320 N. Stanley Los Angeles, CA 90046

D.A.D.S. (FN) PO Box 573 Winfield, IL 60190

Dallas MC PO Box 19525 Dallas, TX 75219

DC Wrestling Club (FL) PO Box 1205 Washington, DC 20013 de Sade and Men PO Box 71426 New Orleans, LA 70172

Desert Leathermen PO Box 1586 Tucson, AZ 85702

Diablo Deviates (S / M) PO Box 27672 Concord, CA 94527

Disciples of de Sade (S / M) 3920 Cedar Springs Dallas, TX 75219

Disciples of De Sade (S / M) 3121 Hamilton Way Los Angeles, CA 90026

Dreizehn (5 / M) PO Box 1486 Boston, MA 02117

3311 Liddy Ave. West Palm Beach, FL 33316

Empire City MC PO Box 2543 New York, NY 10001

Entre Nous MC PO Box 2063 Boston, MA 02106

E.N.I.G.M.A (FN) 2329 N. Leavitt Chicago, IL 60647

The Eulenspiegel Society (Mixed S / M PO Box 2783

*Excelsior MC PO Box 1386 New York, NY 10274-1130

Falcons MC PO Box 23023 Kansas City, MO 64141

Fall Festival Association, Miami Chapter (FL) PO Box 500 Ft. Lauderdale, Ft. 33302

FFA Tampa Bay (FL) 1230 East Mohawk Ave. Tampa, FL 33604

FFA Washington, DC (FL) PO Box 461 Washington, DC 20044

Faucon MC C.P. 833 Station A Montreal, P.Q. H3C 2V5 Canada

The 15 Association (5 / M) PO Box 421302 San Francisco, CA 94142

The Foot Fraternity (FN) PO Box 24102 Cleveland, OH 44124

Gateway MC PO Box 14055 St. Louis, MO 63178

Gladiator MC PO Box 2194 Toluca Lake, CA 91602

*GMSMA (S / M) Mail: 132 West 24th St. New York, NY 10011 Meetings: 208 W, 13 St.

Gaucho MC 32198 W. Obispo St. Tampa, FL 33609

*Golden Gate Wrestling Club (FL) 63 Whitney St. San Francisco, CA 94131-2742

Griffins MC 214 N. Market Wilmington, DE

Harbor Masters, Inc. PO Box 4044 Portland, ME 04101

Hartford Colts MC Blue Hills Station PO Box 12201 Hartford, CT 06112

Hearts of the West MC PO Box 674 Santa Fe, NM 87504-0674

Hijos del Sol 3014 Truman N6 Albuquerque, NM 87110

Hot Ash (FN) AWS PO Box 20147 London Terrace Station New York, NY 10011

Houston MC c / o Mary's Lounge 1022 Westheimer Rd. Houston, TX 77006

Illustrated Men (FL) Box 7091 Burbank, CA 91510

Interchain (FN) 132 West 24th St. Box 410 New York, NY 10011

International Mr. Leather, Inc. 5025 N. Clark St. Chicago, IL 60640

*International Ms Leather, Inc. PO Box 146504 San Francisco, CA 94114

International Roadmasters 3146 Grayson Ferndale, MI 48220

Iron Cross MC PO Box 1721, Station A Montreal, Quebec H3C 3A5 Canada

Iron Guard NYC PO Box 291 Village Station New York, NY 10014

*Iron Tigers MC c / o Speed 1406 E. Brill Phoenix, AZ 85006

It's 'Bout Time 616 N. 4th Av to 16 N. 4th Ave. Tucson, AZ 85702

Kansas City Pioneers PO Box 23025 Kansas City, MO 64141 Kingmasters MC

PO Box 236 Los Angeles, CA 90028

Knights D'Orleans PO Box 50812 New Orleans, LA 70150

Knights of Leather (W) PO Box 10601 Minneapolis, MN 55458

Knights of Malta MC 37 N. Edinburgh Ave. Los Angeles, CA 90046

Knights of Malta MC Central Valley Chapter PO Box 4162 Fresno, CA 93744

Knights of Malta MC Pony Express 1818 P St. #12 Sacramento, CA 95814

Knights of Malta MC Stockmen Chapter PO Box 9386 Denver, CO 80209

Knights of Malta MC PO Box 7726 Reno, NV 89502

Knights of Malta MC Cascade Chapter PO Box 8375 Portland, OR 97205

Knights of Malta MC Jet Chapter PO Box 21052 Seattle, WA 98111

Knights of the Second Liberty 12226 Victory Blvd., #137 North Hollywood, CA 91606

Knights Templar (S / M) PO Box 14073 San Francisco, CA 94142-2151

*Knights Wrestling Club (FL) PO Box 161 Jackson Heights, NY 11372

Lancers MC PO Box 51475 New Orleans, LA 70151

The Leather Guild (FL) 219 Guerrero San Francisco, CA 94103

Leather and Lace (W) PO Box 54646 Los Angeles, CA 90054

Der Ledermeister (S / M) PO Box 263 Downtown Station Syracuse, NY, 13201

USA / CANADA LISTINGS

PO Box 21542 Washington, DC 20009

*Lion Regiment PO Box 44123 Boise, ID 83711

LL Steelworkers PO Box 40065 Nashville, TN 37204

Loboc MC PO Box 833 Long Beach, CA 90801-0833

PO Box 26 Massapequa Park, NY 11762

ISM (W) PO Box 993 Murray Hill Station New York, NY 10156

M.A.F.I.A. (FL) PO Box 2230 Chicago, IL 60690-2230

Meisters der Manner c / o Dean P. Murray 704 Bon Air St. Lakeland, FL 33805

Men of Dungeons (S / M) PO Box 780242 Dallas, TX 75378

Men of Leather 1268 Madison Ave Memphis, TN 38104

M.L.L.A. 6204 Magnolia Lane Lakeland, FL 33805

Motorcyclemen of New Mexico PO Box 35844 Albuquerque, NM 87176-5844

National Coalition Against Censorship (X) 123 W. 43rd St. New York, NY 10036

*National Leather Association (Mixed S / M) PO Box 76827 Station S Vancouver, BC V5R 5S7 Canada

New World Rubber Men (FL) c / o Bill Bailey 1044 23rd St San Diego, CA 92102

New York Bondage Club (FL) PO Box 204 New York, NY 10028

New York Wrestling Club (FN) 59 West 10th St. New York, NY 10011

Nimbus c / o Douglas Dunes Blue Star Highway

Nine Plus Club, Inc. PO Box 1267 Ansonia Sta. New York, NY 10023

Oberons PO Box 07423 Milwakee, WI 53207

Oedipus MC PO Box 451 Hollywood, CA 90028

Omaha Meatpackers PO Box 6474 Elmwood Station Omaha, NE 68104

The Order of the Marquis & the Chevalier (5 / M) PO Box 50014 Novi, MI 48050-5014

The Original Leathermasters Club of Los Angeles (S / M) PO Box 93643 Los Angeles, CA 90093

O.R.R.O.C. PO Box 14033 Chicago, IL 60614

Outcasts (W) PO Box 31266 San Francisco, CA 94131-0266

Pacific Coast MC PO Box 954 Los Angeles, CA 90028

*Pacific Northwest Wrestling Club (FL) 432 Dewey Place E. Seattle, WA 98112

Pegasus MC PO Box 3957 Wichita, KS 67201

Pennsmen PO Box 401 Harrisburg, PA 17108

People Exchanging Power (Mixed 5 / M) Washington DC Chapter PO Box 2308 Silver Springs, MD 20902

People Exchanging Power (Mixed S / M) Albuquerque Chapter PO Box 332 Edgewood, NM 87015

Philadelphians MC PO Box 20720 Philadelphia, PA 19138

Phoenix LL Club c / o Greg Adams 701 NE 81 St. Miami, FL 33138

*Pittsburgh Bondage Club PO Box 8033 Pittsburgh, PA 15216

Pittsburgh MC c / o Gus Coleola 5133 Saltsburg Rd. Verona, PA 15147

Pocono Warriors PO Box 381 263A W. 19th St. #162 New York, NY 10011

Portland Power & Trust (W) 2605 Woodward Portland, OR 97202

Power Circle (W) PO Box 3284 Santa Cruz, CA 95063

Praetorians PO Box 23 New York, NY 10014

Prometheus (S / M) PO Box 57213 Oklahoma City, OK 73157

Queen City Quordinators (X) PO Box 22184 Charlotte, NC 28222

Regiment of the Black and Tans (FL) PO Box 875616 Los Angeles, CA 90087-0716

Renaissance Men PO Box 1001 Trolley Station Detroit, MI 48231

Riverman 1417 Logani SE Grand Rapids, MI 49506

Rochester Rams MC PO Box 1727 Rochester, NY 14603

Rocky Mountaineers MC PO Box 2629 Denver, CO 80201

Rodeo Riders 3516 N. Bosworth Chicago, IL 60657

Saber MC of Florida, Inc. PO Box 030367 Ft. Lauderdale, Ft. 33303

Saddleback MC PO Box 561 Los Angeles, CA 90028

Sam Browne Society (FL) PO Box 8293 Phoenix, AZ 85066-8293

San Andreas MC PO Box 3945 Orange, CA 92665

San Antonio Mustangs PO Box 12551 San Antonio, TX 77006

San Franciscans PO Box 683 San Francisco, CA 94101

San Francisco Bondage Club 1800 Market St. #107 San Francisco, CA 94102

San Francisco Jacks (IO) 2336 Market St. K#127 San Francisco, CA 94114 San Francisco Precision Whip Drill Team (X) 2215-R Market St. #107 San Francisco, CA 94114

San Francisco Wrestling Club (FL) 172 Prentice St. San Francisco, CA 94110

Satyricons MC PO Box 19058 Las Vegas, NV 89132

Satyrs MC PO Box 1137 Los Angeles, CA 90078

Seattle Dungeon Guild (S / M) 918 E. Pike St. Seattle, WA 98122

*Seattle Wrestling Club (FL) G.F 432 Dewey Place East Seattle, WA 98112

Selectmen of Detroit PO Box 1855 Trolley Sta. Detroit, MI 48231

Shelix (W) PO Box 416 Florence Station Northampton, MA 01060

Shipmates of Baltimore O Box 13232 Baltimore, MD 21203

SigMa (5 / M) PO Box 30651 Bethesda, MD 20814-0651

Silver Star MC PO Box 15152 Milwaukee, WI 53215

SMALERS (X) PO Box 99626 Pittsburgh, PA 15233

Society of Janus (Mixed S / M) Southern Calif. Chapter 2554 Lincoln Blvd., Ste 381 Marina del Rey, CA 90291 Society of Janus (Mixed S / M) PO Box 6794

Somandros (S / M) 7985 Santa Monica Blvd. #109 Los Angeles, CA 90046

Sons of Apollo PO Box 7281 Phoenix, AZ 85011

Club (FL) 3678 Roseview Ave. Los Angeles, CA 90065

Spartan MC 458 L'Enfant Plaza PO Box 23832 Washington, DC 20026

NEW BLAZERS FROM OLD

Tampa Bay Blazers have re-formed to better suit our members and designate our inclinations. Our name is now Blazers Leather/ Levi Association (PO Box 3166, Venice, FL 34293). We feel your listings do a tremendous service to the leather / levi community by providing us ways to get in touch with each other.

Behr Tucker, Road Captain

ORLANDO CONTEST MARATHON

On April 9th Black Star MC will sponsor a marathon of four contests at the Loading Dock, 3400 S. Orange Blossom Tr., Orlando. Mr. Leather Orlando '88 will be selected by judges rating Leather, Overall Appearance, and Talent. For the talent section they have a maximum of 5 minutes to perform a demonstration, lip-sync, dance, or open category. Daddy's Boy / Slave will be judged on Leather and the Ability to Obey. Contestants may bring their own daddy / Master or one will be furnished. Contestants in the Best Buns contest must provide a posing strap or jock and those in the Wet Jockey Shorts contest must, of course, have the appropriate jockey-style shorts.

Winners will get trophies, cash and prizes. 60% of the proceeds will go to local AIDS support groups. It sounds like an entertaining and exhausting evening.

-AFD

THE QUILT ON TOUR

The Names Project, the National Memorial to the tens of thousands of Americans lost to AIDS, has confirmed the schedule for its National Tour beginning this spring. Arrival and departure dates are firm, and the specific display dates and times are being arranged by the individual host committees in each city.

'We are bringing the Quilt to 20 of the largest American cities beginning in April," said Cleve Jones, Executive Director of The Names Project. "The country needs a mechanism for generating money and support for people with AIDS and their loved ones. Funds raised from the National Tour will stay in the communities in which the Quilt is displayed to support local organizations providing direct services to people with AIDS and others facing the epidemic.

The Quilt began in the hearts and minds of the lesbian and gav community, yet embraces all people with AIDS and those affected by the epidemic. As we spread the Quilt in city after city, so we continue to spread the message of compassion and love for people with AIDS, and we look once again within our own community nationwide for support and assistance in this immense undertaking.

If you would like to join the local team of NAMES Project volunteers in your area, please write to us, sending us your name, address and telephone number, and we will contact you shortly with specific information on whom to contact in your city.

Please register your support and commitment by being one of the hundreds of volunteers that it will take in each of these cities, to successfully reach out to all America with this poignant visual symbol of the epidemic that continues to take its toll on our immediate and global communities.

—The NAMES Project

The NAMES Project 1988 Tour Schedule

MUD OLYMPICS II

Club Mud announces their Mud Olympics II party, to be held Saturday, May 21st, at the Russian River in honor of the late Dr. Tom Wadell. The party will concentrate on events of strength and endurance, such as Tug of War, Mud Volleyball, Mud Wrestling, and a T-shirt ripping contest. Ten percent of all profits will be donated to "Face to Face," a local AIDS group. According to Bro. Duke, the club's boss, "We haven't been told by the USOC that the name 'Mud Olympics' offends them, therefore, we will continue to use it again this year. Dr. Tom would have appreciated it; he lives on inside all of us." Commemorative posters will be given to all participants, plus a new feature, the coveted Brown Pig Award, will be given to the best overall mudder. Club Mud is open to everyone, with an emphasis on boots, levis, and leather. For more information, send a stamped legal-sized envelope to Club Mud, PO Box 277, Rio Nido, CA 95471. Discount admission applies until April 30th.

—Bro. Duke

LEATHER LOVERS NIGHT

The Hartford Colts MC's February bar night at Bearristers is Leather Lovers Night. Dreizehn of Boston is scheduled to present a bondage demonstration starting with the basics of a rope body harness. Hopefully Mitch Davis, Mr. New England Drummer 1987 and the newly selected Mr. Mid-Atlantic Leatherman 1988 will be present at the demonstration! I know that THAT is a nice body to lace up, I had a chance to do it in Washington during the March. Unfortunately I had to run off to a meeting as soon as the last knot was tied and I didn't even get to play with the nicely wrapped package.

The Hartford Colts have regular bar nights at Bearristers on the fourth Saturday of the month. They urge you to bring old issues of Drummer (there is no such thing!), Mach, DungeonMaster, Honcho, Manscape, and other magazines for their monthly

—Fledermaus

LEATHERFEST IV

The Copperstate Leathermen's Association is hosting Leather-fest IV on February 26 through 27 in Phoenix. The no charge activity has become a tradition in the local leather community and an opportunity for those interested in the leather lifestyle to see, experience and question various facets of that lifestyle by sharing parties, seminars and a variety of events beginning with "Parade of Leather" on Friday evening and concluding with the day-long 4th Annual Copperstate Leather Fair on Sunday. Most parties and events are conducted where they are fully open to the community; the seminars are held in private locations, which limits the number of possible participants and for this portion of Leatherfest IV individuals must register in order to participate.

One of the highlights of Leatherfest IV this year will be the Mr. Leather / Copperstate 1988 contest. The winner need not be a member of the Copperstate Leathermen but will become the Official Representative of the organization until the production of Leatherfest V in 1989. Mr. Leather / Copperstate 1988 will be the Club's official contestant in the Mr. Leather / Arizona contest that will be held in April of 1988, under the sponsorship of "Tuff Stuff Leatherware" and in turn the winner of that contest will be sent to Chicago in May to represent Arizona in the 1988 International Mr. Leather Contest.

As the Bum Steer is the new home bar of the Copperstate Leathermen details of activities and how to contact the organization will be posted in that bar beginning Sunday January 17, 1988. We are very encouraged by this new home bar since it is one of Leather orientation where we are treated as "guys" not "guise"!

USA / CANADA LISTINGS

SPASM (W) PO Box 77270 Houston, TX 77270

Spearhead 113 Scadding Ave. Toronto, Ont.

Spirit of St. Louis L-L PO Box 12207 Souland Sta. St. Louis, MO 63157

Stallions c / o The Leather Stallion 2203 St. Clair Ave

Steel Barons PO Box 3553 Pittsburgh, PA 15230

Stiletos MC c / o Phoenix Bar 1440 San Marco Blvd.

PO Box 1643 Ft. Lauderdale, FL 33302 Sunday Meeting Group (S / M) c / o SM Leathers

Sunrays MC 2027 Mayo St Hollywood, FL 33020

Sunshine Athletic Assoc. c / o Robert Race 190L N. Andrews Ave. #105 Wilton Manors, FL 33311 c / o Jacques Carle 49 Bartlett Ave Norwalk, CT 06850 Texas Cadre PO Box 1041

*Texas Conference of Clubs PO Box 66973, Suite 1010 Houston, TX 77006

Texas MC PO Box 57462 Dallas, TX 75207

Thebans MC c / o Don Gibson 950 NW 7th St. Rd. Miami, FL 33136

The Tradesmen PO Box 36712 Charlotte, NC 28204

Tribe MC Box 32798

Tucson Knight Owls PO Box 2332 Tucson, AZ 85702

Tucson Levi-Leathermen PO Box 1774 Tucson, AZ 85702

Twin Cities S / M Alliance PO Box 825 Minneapolis, MN 55440

Two Wheelers of Omaha c / o Tony Zamudio 305 Turner Blvd. #8 Omaha, NE 68131

U.F.O. c / o Walter Carlton III 1531 S. Madison Ave. Tulsa, OK 74120

Urania (W) PO Box 23 Somerville, MA 92131-0266

Vancouver Activists in SM VASMI(S / M) PO Box 2204 New Westminster, BC V3L 5A5 Canada

Vanguards MC PO Box 2308 Philadelphia, PA 19103

Vikings MC PO Box 1323 Cambridge, MA 02142

Warlocks MC PO Box 2484 Los Angeles, CA 90028

Warriors MC PO Box 2484 Los Angeles, CA 90028

Wasatch Leathermen MC PO Box 11314 Salt Lake City, UT 84110-1311

W.E.S. (We Enjoy Shaving) (FN) PO Box 6316 Reno, NV 89513

Wheels MC PO Box 615 New York, NY 10001

Wildcats MC c / o Bailer Room 111 W. Tazewell St. Norfolk, VA 23510

*W.I.N. (Wrestlers Information Network) (FL) Box 71 Station F Toronto, Ont. M4Y 2L4 Canada

Windy City Bondage Club PO Box 268767 (FL) Chicago, IL 60626

Womanlink (W / FN) 2124 Kittredge #25 Berkeley, CA 94704

Zodiacs MC PO Box 48144 Vancouver, BC V7X 1N8 Canada

LEATHER CALENDAR

If you'd like your organization's events listed here, send us the appropriate information at least two months in advance.

PAGE 96

TOUGH CUSTON

THINK YOU'RE A HOT DRUMMERMAN? CAN'T FIND THE RIGHT STUD OR THAT PERFECT BOTTOM?

Each month we pick the hottest candid photos for Tough Customers. Send your black and white photos (color photos are acceptable but do not reproduce well) with your name and address printed on the back, state that you are of legal age, sign your name and we will assign you a confidential TC Box number. (Photos are not returnable.)

To answer a TC ad, put correspondence in an envelope, seal, apply postage and write (in pencil) the TC number on the back flap. Put this inside another envelope along with fifty cents for handling, and mail to Tough Customers, PO Box 11314, San Francisco, CA 94101-1314.

PAGAN LOVE SONGS by Gavin Dillard

Big Bob built a sweat tent in the pasture between the two mountains he was part Cherokee but blonde as a

Swede he drank water from a bucket and spat it onto the fire rocks a god. spectacular like a shaved bull he wasn't queer, he said but he didn't mind us all being naked he liked to watch us sweat

See review page 39. Gavin Dillard by John J. Krause

SANDMUTOPIA UNIVERSITY VIDEO

Something Different in S / M Viewing

Each tape has two parts. Part One is a demonstration in which Professor Fledermaus uses a hunky bottom to demonstrate equipment and techniques. The second half of each video is a "hands-on" session; a session in which the techniques discussed in the first part are put into practice.

SUV1 SENSITIZING THE SKIN

Fledermaus demonstrates the violet wand and hot wax techniques, then proceeds on to an extended hot wax scene which includes a cock casting. $69.95

SUV2 ROPE THAT WORKS

Fledermaus gives the facts on rope bondage, including a few basic ties and details on the rope body harness. Then four men engage in a lively scene that includes four different bondage positions as well as a lot of ass beating and cock & ball torture. $79.95

SUV3 WHIPS 1, BEATING ASS

Fledermaus demonstrates a wide variety of implements from fly swatters to exotic whips and explains techniques for variations from light stimulation of the skin to deep, lasting bruises. Then Master Mario demonstrates ass beating with two different bottoms. $69.95

Each video is approximately one hour in length. No refunds or exchanges except in the event of a defective tape. Please give an address for UPS delivery. If you insist on a PO Box, include $5 extra for insurance and special handling.

Sandmutopia Supply Co. PO Box 11314, San Francisco, CA 94101

Make checks payable to Desmodus, Inc. Credit card holders may order by phone: 415 / 978-5377

CTURES FROM THE BLACK DANCE PART I OF THE DUNGEONS OF EUROPE P

A DESMODUS INC. PUBLICATION