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The Count goes hardcore in ‘Dracula Sucks’
11.24.2014
07:54 am

Topics:
Movies
Sex

Tags:
vampires
Jamie Gillis


 
If one had to name one literary character from the past 200 years that has influenced numerous films, short stories, books, pieces of music, commercials and even video games, there is one strikingly demonic figure that should immediately pop into mind. That’s right. The man himself—Count Dracula.

Bram Stoker’s character—who was not, apparently, based on the historical Romanian warlord Vlad the Impaler—has appeared in nearly every cinematic genre, ranging from horror (natch) to westerns and even comedies. Another genre that the most epochal vampire has graced is adult film, which also might be the least examined. The big standout on that small but notable list is 1978’s Lust at First Bite aka Dracula’s Bride aka Dracula Sucks.

Combining explicit sex and Dracula is the veritable chocolate with the peanut butter. The real shocker isn’t that there is a hardcore version of Stoker’s tale but that there are not more adult films based on his character. The very nature of Dracula, a charismatic monster riddled with polluted sexuality, makes him the perfect seductive villain for erotica of any stripe.
 
Extra from a Ratt Video? No. It's one of Dracula's Brides.
 
The title alone of Dracula Sucks might bring to mind something heavy in the groin but light in the brains department, but there is actual substance to this version, albeit in a deliriously strange way. Directed by Philip Marshak and with industry notable William Margold chipping in on writing duties, Dracula Sucks begins with Richard (Richard Bulik), the nephew of Irene Renfield (Pat Manning) and, you guessed it, the son of the Renfield. His aunt has taken him to a castle retreat in rural California to be in the care of the brother and sister team of the Sewards, Arthur (John Leslie) and Sybil (Kay Parker). He’s arrived to receive treatment for his night terrors, which will soon grow exponentially as the voice of his dead father starts to call to him.

This ghastly force leads him to the body of Dracula (Jamie Gillis). Richard follows his daddy’s instructions and removes the stake out of the corpse, only to quickly find out that the voice pulling him the whole time was not his father’s but Dracula himself! This puts him over the edge and faster than you can say “Ballad of Dwight Frye,” Richard is all bug-eyed, emitting noises of the insane and making the insect world his own personal buffet.
 
The Son of Renfield
 
Meanwhile, Dracula is introduced as a new neighbor to not only the Sewards, but to their non-patient residents, including dear friends Lucy (Serena, looking like the living embodiment of a Vargas girl) and Mina (Annette Haven), as well as their respective suitors, Dr. Bradley (Mike Ranger) and Jonathan Harker (Paul Thomas.) Things go from strange to stranger to strangest as a wave of infected sexuality and blood starts to sweep through the asylum as Dracula hones in on Mina, with whom he has fallen in love.

Dracula Sucks has to be one of the stranger approximations of Stoker’s classic tale that I have ever seen. There’s a strain of goony humor that is undercut by a genuinely eerie ambiance. It is an unwell universe where the dysfunctional out-rules the healthy and that includes a large part of the medical staff.  From the incest between the Sewards, the character of Henry (Margold) who, when not assisting the doctors, has a fixation on apples and ends up raping Irene and the fact that Van Helsing (played by character actor heavy Reggie Nalder) manages to out-creep Dracula, there are no real character safety zones here. On top of that, there is the striking image of the Count’s handmaidens, who look like glamorous ghouls who just escaped Hell’s war zone, creeping across the asylum grounds at night. Speaking of startling visuals, there’s also a doozy of an image where Dracula has a vision upon meeting Lucy. The vision in question is a solarized shot of him urinating on her while fire is chroma-keyed into the shot. It is completely infernal, messed up and striking in a witchy-psychedelic piss type way.
 
Jamie Gillis is Dracula
 
While there are some obvious liberties taken with the story, which makes the film about on par with 99% of the rest of the Dracula-centric titles, there is one key element that it nails from Stoker’s source material better than most. Keeping in mind that the novel was written in the Victorian era by a man who was very much an upstanding byproduct of it, the sexuality in the book is tame. It’s highly doubtful that any eroticism in Stoker’s text was ever intentional, since vampirism plays out more like a metaphor for venereal disease than anything else. So amping of the sexuality factor to include a communicable disease is perfect for the material. The fake vampire teeth used here is pretty jarring. Not because they look authentic, in fact, far from it. But it’s that line where something looks so artificial that it takes on an even more alien and bent look. (Anyone who has seen the Count Yorga films will know exactly what I am talking about here.)

The cast is good and features a veritable who’s who of adult film in the 1970’s. John Holmes even appears in a small supporting role as “Dr. John Stoker,” who ends up having his equally famous member get bitten by a female vampire. (Surely a scene that will have 8 out of 10 guys running to the hills!) The acting, as a whole, is really good, with the usually frosty Haven making a likable Mina. Richard Bulik makes an interesting Renfield, with his performance going from decent Dwight Frye cosplay into something more genuinely unhinged. However, like other vampire films before it, the real stars of the show are the hunter and the hunted.
 
Johnny Wadd: Vampire
 
Nader, whose career spanned from working with Hitchcock in The Man Who Knew Too Much to playing vampire Kurt Barlow in the first adaptation of Stephen King’s book, Salem’s Lot, is typically remarkable here. One has to wonder what was going through his mind while making Dracula Sucks, since established “straight” actors typically didn’t usually appear in adult films, then or now. (One exception from that time period was Aldo Ray acting in the 1976 adult title, Sweet Savage. Also, neither gentleman dropped trow, though that would have been potentially spooky on a whole other level!) Then there’s Jamie Gillis as Dracula. Given that one of Gillis’ nicknames has been “the dark prince of porn,” it was only natural to have him here as the Count. His good looks and natural intense energy plays into the role perfectly. He’s more animalistic than say Lugosi or Lee, but retains the charisma that is typically associated with the role. Given that Gillis was a really terrific actor in general, it does make one wish he had more to do, but given that the literary Dracula only appears in a fraction of the text, it only makes sense to have him more as a shadow figure.
 
Reggie Nalder as Van Helsing
 
For the hardcore vampire film lovers, Vinegar Syndrome have released this on a sweet two-disc set that also includes the Lust at First Bite version, which is more traditionally edited and features more sex than blood. Interestingly, both Dracula Sucks and Lust at First Bite have two different endings, making it the sex-vampire equivalent of King Kong Vs Godzilla. (Ignore the fact that the dual-ending for the latter is a myth.) Naturally, Dracula Sucks is not going to be for everyone but for those who like their vampire tales weird, lurid, occasionally silly and ultimately memorable, then do check it out.
 

Posted by Heather Drain | Discussion
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T-Rextasy: Beasties-on-boys romance novels are apparently a ‘thing’ now
11.14.2014
08:09 am

Topics:
Books
Sex

Tags:
dinosaur
Hunter Fox


 
Last September I helped break a mini-sensation about dinosaur/mythical creature-on-girl romance novelettes available as ebooks on Amazon. About three weeks after we posted that, Stephen Colbert did a bit about them on his show. Featured titles included Ravished by the Triceratops and Mounted by the Gryphon. They’re still available, of course.

I recently discovered that those ebooks are just one half of the story. If there is dinosaur-on-girl erotica, then why not the same for those who would get aroused by dinosaur-on-boy tales? Well, it turns out that that exists. A writer who goes by the name Hunter Fox (sure, that’s his real name, of course it is) has written a bunch of pamphlet-length “ebooks” focused on the pleasures experienced by young men being “ravished” by unicorns, octopi, yetis, cyclopses, orcs, and so forth.

The language here is very interesting to me. All of these stories are essentially about rape, that is to say, nonconsensual sex. None of the titles use the word rape, of course, but they all signal it in various ways. Taken and ravished are a key euphemisms here, but when it’s a male being penetrated, there’s an option that isn’t available for the ladies being so “taken,” and that’s to say that the mythical creature in question “forced me gay,” which might not quite be entirely grammatical but certainly paints a picture.
 

 
I couldn’t resist the title A Billionaire Dinosaur Forced Me Gay, which indeed is about a billionaire dinosaur tycoon in a world where somehow dinosaurs have returned and become the new one-percent. Here’s a key excerpt:
 

I looked down and our eyes caught for a second. My breath began to quicken as he stepped closer, pulling me towards him with his claws.  He reached around me and tore off my clothing, leaving me in just my briefs.

I was speechless and had no idea how to react. Oliver forced me to the ground, ripping off his suit and throwing it across the library. I looked up at him and saw his gigantic cock, now hard as a rock. I knew now why my boss had taken me to his beach house, it was to fuck me. He reached down and began rubbing himself while looking at me, stroking up and down his throbbing, enormous cock.

 
To find out what happens next, you’ll just have to buy it for yourself!

Here are some other “beasties/boys” titles from Hunter Fox:

Punished by the Dark Unicorn
Gay Android Attack
Tamed by T-Rex
Ravaged by a Unicorn
Forced Gay by Aliens
Tentacles Made Me Gay
Transforming Robot Punished Me
Forced Gay by the School Mascot
Yetti Forced Me Gay
Sphinx Forced Me Gay
Nailed by Dragons
Ravaged by the Saber Tooth Tiger
Turned Gay by an Orc
T-Rex Forced Me Gay
Brachiosaurus Made Me Gay
Slayed by Dragons
Cyclops Forced Me Gay

Posted by Martin Schneider | Discussion
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‘VD is for Everybody’: Confusing PSA that kinda makes venereal disease sound like fun!
11.12.2014
07:13 am

Topics:
Amusing
Sex

Tags:
PSA
STDs
VD
venereal disease


 
American Social Health Association was founded in 1914 to deal with “social diseases”—what a great euphemism for STDs, eh?—and was frankly, a much needed intervention for an absolute epidemic of venereal disease in the US at that time. Some estimates submit that up to 80% of New York City men had already been infected with gonorrhea at some point. Early efforts of ASHA focused on prostitution and the military—a combination that has historically produced major sexual health crises—but by the 1960s, the focus shifted to the civilian population. 

Enter , “VD is for Everybody,” the most confusing sexual health campaign I’ve ever seen. Alongside the National Advertising Council, ASHA produced this 1969 short to emphasize the growing ubiquity of venereal disease—thanks, sexual revolution! I can only assume the spot is a surreal attempt at irony, because if one were judging from the song styling and video-editing alone, this PSA reads like an advertisement for VD. In fact, it kind of makes VD look awesome! Seriously—look at all those happy, attractive, seemingly healthy people! They’re doing ballet, riding horses, having babies…being babies?!?

I half expected it to end with, “Ask your doctor if VD is right for you!”
 

Posted by Amber Frost | Discussion
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Barking mad: Man has sex with tree (NSFW)
11.05.2014
05:16 am

Topics:
Amusing
Sex
Unorthodox

Tags:
trees
dendrophile

treewoodhump11.jpg
 
Imagine a man who gets up every morning and goes out to his local park or leafy sidewalk and humps his favorite tree. Well, if this video is to be believed here is that man.

According to the uploader on Live Leak who filmed this tree hugger, the man claims having coition with a tree “gives him pleasure.”

He does that every morning when he wakes up from bed. He also says that a tree doesn’t reject anything, he has full control over it. Just he says that if it was possible he’d take it back home lol.

“Lol” our culture’s answer to everything. Well that or “YOLO” which would also fit here, one would suppose…

The man may be mentally ill, lonely, or just a garden variety dendrophile, but he certainly seems unperturbed by the possibility of splinters, a dose of woodlice, or even total strangers filming his tree-loving activities.
 

 
H/T Daily Star

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Discussion
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NYC subway dancers are so beautiful & hypnotic, I forget my fear of being kicked in the head
11.03.2014
02:03 pm

Topics:
Dance
Sex

Tags:
dance
NYC
subway performers
subway dancers


 
I have an uneasy solidarity with the New York City subway dancers. On the one hand, I appreciate most forms of public entertainment, including (but not exclusive to) mariachi bands, accordionists, cellos, operatic sopranos, those Chinese violin thingies and the rare special occasion when some one drags a whole damn marimba down the subway stairs. On the other hand, the Z train goes approximately 4,000 mph, and the presence of a flailing body on a crowded, high-speed car puts me in an anxious frenzy. On the other hand, proto-fascist “broken windows” policing techniques have facilitated a major crackdown on these (mostly black teen male) performers. On the other hand... limbs flying near my skull.

To really enjoy the charisma and artistry of subway dancers, I have to watch something like this little film for boutique clothing line Fair Ends, featuring the moves of three amazing subway dancers in hypnotic slo-mo. Here there is no danger of traumatic brain injury, and I don’t have to experience the vicarious anxiety of some one perpetually bracing themselves to witness a farcically unjust arrest. 
 

 
Via ANIMAL

Posted by Amber Frost | Discussion
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Casa Susanna: Charming casual pix of a cross-dressers’ haven in the 1950s and 1960s
10.31.2014
02:47 pm

Topics:
History
Sex

Tags:
Cross-dressing


 
“Casa Susanna” was the name of a house in Hunter, New York, a town that is a good hour-plus north of Poughkeepsie, which is itself a couple hour’s drive from NYC. The given name of “Susanna” was Tito Valenti, and he created a safe haven for heterosexual males who liked to dress as women, a setting where they could indulge something approximating their true selves, an act that would be scorned in the regular society in which the Don Drapers of the world operated.

Michel Hurst and Robert Swope discovered a trove of photographs from Casa Susanna at a flea market, an event that prompted them to do some research into these mysterious, charming pictures. It turned out that Susanna was a professional female impersonator—at least that was what the business card affixed to one of the photo albums suggested. A substantial group of cross-dressers enjoyed visiting on the weekends to play-act as housewives, tending to the tacky trappings and maybe playing some Scrabble.

I think these pictures are just great. You can see in the directness of the gaze a complete lack of self-consciousness that, maybe, can come only from the indulgence of a hard-won security. Everywhere in life these men had to put on masks and play roles they didn’t want to play—but not at Casa Susanna.

All of these pictures are © Michel Hurst and Robert Swope. You can purchase their picture book documenting the house from powerHouse Books—it’s called, appropriately enough, Casa Susanna, and it was first published in 2005 (the second edition came out earlier this month).
 

 

 

 

 

More pictures after the jump…..

Posted by Martin Schneider | Discussion
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Shel Silverstein: A compendium of smut and depravity from the creator of ‘Where the Sidewalk Ends’
10.15.2014
07:23 am

Topics:
Drugs
Literature
Music
Sex

Tags:


 
Shel Silverstein was more than just a quirky, kid-friendly poet with whom we youthfully chuckled while leafing through Where the Sidewalk Ends or A Light in the Attic. Indeed, as your perfectly sensible dad choked back tears while reading to you about the relentlessly cruel passage of time lovingly explored in The Giving Tree, he might well have been unaware of the epically debauched lifestyle of the bittersweet story’s wild-man author.

No doubt about it, Silverstein was an amazing guy. Case in point: he won two Grammys and was posthumously inducted into the Nashville Songwriter’s Hall of Fame on top of being a celebrated children’s author selling over 20 million book copies and counting.  But he also smoked a metric shit-ton of weed, sang obscenely, engaged in legendary partying (often on a houseboat), wrote a lot of fairly bent plays for grown-ups and obviously spent a lot of time thinking, writing and drawing about smut. In fact, some of our readers might remember that Shel Silverstein spent several years as a cartoonist for Playboy Magazine.  They might also recall that not only did Silverstein pen the lyrics to “A Boy Named Sue,” a tune made famous by Johnny Cash, and for which he won one of his Grammies, but that Uncle Shelby also wrote a sequel to “A Boy Named Sue” in which Sue’s dad turns him into kind of a live-in housekeeper/sex slave. The list goes on and on, really.
 
Shel Silverstein: Crouchin on the Outside
 
So allow me, as a primer for the uninitiated, or as a walk down a rather raunchy memory lane for those of you already in the know, to take you on a perhaps enlightening, but by no means comprehensive tour of some of the more explicit Shel Silverstein content available on the world wide web.  The stuff that follows is, of course, all pretty chuckle-worthy and, while fairly tame when judged by the standards of other smut, is in no way safe for work. 

Take for example this passage from Silverstein’s long-form poem “The Devil and Billy Markham,” a Faustian ode to the hustler that pits a down-on-his luck Nashville songwriter (Billy) against the Dark Lord himself. After the devil beats Billy in a dice match, he damns him to your standard eternity of painful hell roasting. After a while though, Lucifer realizes that unending damnation isn’t quite as shitty if people don’t get a reminder now and then about how awesome life used to be. So he sends Billy back to earth for 13 hours during which time he is allowed to lecherously fornicate with anything that walks, “man or woman or beast,” and no one will say no.  To sweeten the deal, if anyone does happen to put the kibosh on Billy’s inevitable sexcapade, Billy gets to return to earth.  Of course, all good things come to an end, and the Devil sends Billy a 30 second last call for banging as it were:

And Billy Markham, he stops. . .and he squints at the Devil. . .and says. . .“Sucker. . .I’ll take you.”

“Foul!” cries the Devil. “Foul, no fair! The rules don’t hold for me.”

“You said man or woman or beast,” says Bill, “and I guess you’re all of the three.”

And a roar goes up from the demons of Hell and it shakes the earth across,
 And the imps all squeal and the demons scream, “He’s gonna fuck the boss!”

“Why, you filthy scum,” the Devil snarls, blushing a fiery red,
“I give you a chance to live again and you bust me in front of my friends.”

“Hey, play or pay,” Billy Markham says. “So set me free at last,
Or raise your tail and hear all Hell wail when I bugger your devilish ass.”

The clippings below come from Playboy Magazine and were created as part of a series in which Silverstein traveled all over the place looking for scenes from the fringes of society. They’re hardly scandalous, but perhaps offer a slightly different take on Silverstein if you’re only familiar with “Falling Up”:
 
Silverstein Hooker
 
More Shel Silverstein after the jump…

Posted by Jason Schafer | Discussion
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Man admits to having sex with over 700 cars
10.14.2014
06:20 am

Topics:
Amusing
Sex

Tags:
car sex
Edward Smith

crsxmn700.jpg
 
Edward Smith, a 63-year-old man from Yelm, Thurston County, Washington, told a live morning TV show that he had made love to over 700 vehicles, including Mustangs, luxury Jaguars and even an attack helicopter.

Smith made the admission on the British family television show This Morning, telling hosts Phillip Schofield and Amanda Holden that he was a mechaphile—someone who is sexually attracted to machines—and prefers making love to motors than women. Smith said he had sex with vehicles since first being attracted to his neighbor’s Volkswagon Beetle when he was fourteen, when he was tempted to give the vehicle a “gentle caress.”:

“It has to do with the body itself. I’ve not been attached to any sort of penetration, but petting and hugging and feeling the body. I like feeling the satisfaction—masturbation—that’s done with the car, next to it.

“When I hold them in my arms, I feel an energy that comes from them. There’s a very deep love.”

Smith admitted he had difficulties in forming relationships with women and had only ever had one girlfriend “by some chance” in San Francisco in the early 1970s. However, he found the relationship unsatisfying.

Edward now has a long term sex partner that’s still… er… driving him wild, “Vanilla”—another VW Beetle that he bought in 1982.

“I first met her before I got her and then had the local Jehovah’s Witness driving around in one. There was something about that white ‘74 Beetle, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her,” he said.

“On my own private property is where we get mostly intimate. I’m very respectful not to be seen in public. I greet her every morning along with my truck Ginger.”

 
edvwlvsx.jpg
 
Smith’s obsession of pulling up to the bumper (baby), and driving it in between tickles the Brits as he has previously appeared in the Daily Mirror last October, where he ‘fessed up to having sex with thousands of cars:

“Some guys look at boobs and bums on beautiful women. I look at the front and rear on beautiful cars.”

Then he claimed he was in an “open relationship” with his VW Vanilla and makes “love to his 1973 Opal GT called Cinnamon and a 1193 Ford Ranger called Splash.”
 
3wysxmncrsed.jpg
 

But Vanilla is ‘the one’ and Edward likes to woo the white-coloured hatchback with picnics and wine-fuelled dates.

He added: “When I hold Vanilla in my arms there’s a powerful energy that comes from her. I would say it is extremely satisfying but at times a little melancholy because I know she cannot talk to me. But overall I know she feels what I feel and its intense.”

He added: “If anything was to happen to her I would be more than heartbroken.”

Smith also admitted in October 2013 that he was occasionally tempted to stray but added:

“I know better now than to pursue other people’s private property without permission. I will not deny that I look at other cars on TV or at shows and still get those old impulses and desires - but those were the early days. Now I want to settle down with Vanilla.”

He added: “There’s something about her that I can’t fully express on an emotional level except it’s very powerful and very sincere. I’m never ashamed or awkward in my heart. I have never questioned myself - I just love her.”

Well, that’s okay then….
 

 
Via This Morning, Daily Star and the Daily Mirror

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Discussion
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Paris museum promotes Marquis De Sade show with orgiastic trailer (NSFW)
10.10.2014
11:54 am

Topics:
Advertising
Art
Sex

Tags:
Marquis De Sade
Musée d'Orsay


 
The Musée d’Orsay, the legendary museum dedicated to impressionist and post-impressionist art housed in the former Gare d’Orsay, a Beaux-Arts railway station in the center of Paris, has a big show on the legacy of Donatien Alphonse François de Sade, better known as the Marquis de Sade, coming up in a few days (show starts October 14). The show, called “Sade: Attacking the Sun,” will focus on “the revolution of representation opened up by the author’s writings,” according to the museum. The exhibit will feature presumably challenging and sensuous works by artists such as Goya, Géricault, Ingres, Rops, Rodin, and Picasso. De Sade’s groundbreaking works include Justine, or the Misfortunes of Virtue and 120 Days of Sodom, which was later adapted by Pier Paolo Pasolini as Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom.
 

 
On its website, the Musée d’Orsay warns (in bold text), “The violent nature of some of the works and documents may shock some visitors.” A similar disclaimer might apply to the show’s promotional video, directed by video artists David Freymond and Florent Michel. In keeping with the Marquis’ licentious philosophy and writings, the video consists entirely of quick cuts of dozens of (mostly white) people engaged in group sex in a huge darkened expanse. The camera eventually pulls out to reveal that the bodies are configured to spell the word “SADE.”

Funny—the only orgy I was ever at, we spelled out the word “EXCELSIOR.”

The video is NSFW but that should be pretty obvious, and to be honest it’s pretty low-stakes smut…..
 

 
via Artnet

Posted by Martin Schneider | Discussion
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This ridiculous Burt Reynolds paperback might mark when the 1970s truly began!
10.10.2014
10:34 am

Topics:
Books
Movies
Sex

Tags:
Burt Reynolds


 
One of the many mystifying aspects of the 1970s was the American public’s seemingly unquenchable appetite for Burt Reynolds. The same decade that is widely considered the strongest for uncompromising American cinema, a decade that produced The Godfather, Chinatown, Taxi Driver, and Nashville.... was also the decade that multiple times bestowed on Reynolds the title of America’s top box office star.

It isn’t so much that Reynolds is bad, exactly. It’s just that often his fame and celebrity success often seemed to come in advance of the cinematic accomplishments. If you look at Reynolds’ finishes in the “Ten Money Making Stars Poll” annually conducted by the Quigley Publishing Company, you get this:

1973: 4
1974: 6
1975: 7
1976: 6
1977: 4
1978: 1
1979: 1
1980: 1
1981: 1
1982: 1
1983: 4
1984: 6

Number one box office star—five years in a row. That feat was duplicated only by Bing Crosby from 1944 to 1948. If you look at 1973, the first year Reynolds made the list, he finished ahead of (in order) Robert Redford, Barbra Streisand, and Paul Newman. At that point his primary accomplishments as an actor were being second lead in Deliverance (an admittedly excellent movie in which he is also very good) and a brief appearance in Woody Allen’s Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask). In addition, of course, Reynolds had starred in The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing. For the next few years, it didn’t really matter what movies Reynolds starred in—the American public wanted more.

One of the most attention-getting episodes in Reynolds’ career was his hunkalicious nude appearance in the April 1972 issue of Cosmopolitan. Clearly, women were lusting after the cocky (ahem) and hirsute thespian and former athlete, a fact that leads us into the true subject of this post.

In 1972 Signet Books released a remarkable paperback, authored by Burt Reynolds, with the title Hot Line: The Letters I Get ... And Write! It was less a portrayal of Reynolds’ life as a man of letters than a kind of palatable, not X-rated version of his Cosmo pictorial.

Reynolds was not a man without a sense of humor, as can be seen in his confident, silly pose on the hand chair. (Yes, that’s right—hand chair.) The letters—who can say where these letters came from?—all acknowledge Reynolds’ fame and sex appeal as immutable facts and engage in some heavy double entendres—what one writer terms “Swahili.” Here’s a typical sample:
 

Dear Burt,

MAN, DO YOU EVER TURN ME ON! You’re great. When I told my husband how I love you, he said, “Well, just pretend that I’m Burt Reyolds.” To which I replied, “Nobody in the world has got that much imagination!”

I have to tell you this funny thing that happened at the office where I work. We have this 60-yr-old supervisor (lady). When we showed her the miniature picture of you from Newsweek, she said, “Well, that doesn’t turn me on!” The rest of us girls decided it would take all the men of South America put together to turn her on.

But you’re just the hottest! If I knew my tropic zone number I would use it rather than my zip code. (Sin)—Cerely

FAY IN FARGO

Dear Fay:

Why don’t you introduce your husband to the 60-year-old supervisor? Forget about your tropic zone number and bone up on your erogenous zones.

 
The pictures of these luscious babes literally draping themselves on Reynolds’ torso are a kind of visual corollary to the libido that the sexual revolution had just unleashed. You can’t exactly imagine Clark Gable doing this pictorial…. this was the new sexual frankness that would come to define the decade. In fact, you could argue that this stupid book, or the Cosmo pictorial, was the first thing that really reeked of the Seventies the way we think of it today. That hairy chest just needs a coke spoon to complete the picture.

Here are a few shagadelic scans from the book—I’m confident you won’t soon forget them.
 

 

 
More Burt Reynolds than anyone in this century could ever possibly want, after the jump…

Posted by Martin Schneider | Discussion
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