Vol. 1, No. 1

THE NUDE

Doll of the Month

Meet Sandy Colmer, 21 Occupation: Painter

"I prefer to paint the naked figure, whether it’s my own or someone else’s. Often I try to do sketches of my own body in the mirror and attempt to capture flight and motion: dancing, jumping, or reaching toward the ceiling."

Sandy spends hours in front of her easel, dabbling with various paints.

"Watercolor is my favorite medium right now, but I’m still new to it. I think I like watercolors because they’re so suggestive."

Duke asked Sandy if she ever posed for male painters:

"Oh yes, and if I’m painting a naked man, I often take off my own clothes too, so he won’t feel too uncomfortable. Believe it or not, I’ve found that lots of men stay still longer that way."

THE BIG GUYS CALLED HER SUPERGIRL!

By Max Richards

Her real name was Melba Latour, and she was ashamed of it. But Melba was ashamed of many things.

She never once told a soul that her older sister was an exotic dancer using the name Toots. As hard as it was to believe, there she was: the younger sister of someone named Toots Latour. She was also ashamed of the fact that, at age sixteen, she worked with her sister and was called (believe it or not) Bubbles.

But all that was behind her now. She was a 25-year-old woman living a clean, respectable life as a bookkeeper for a shipping firm. There was no man in Melba’s life. However, there were 75 women.

When the lovely brunette was not adding and subtracting numbers for her boss, she spent her minutes at the weekly meetings of her Women’s Liberation group: JAMIT (The Judo and Malevolence Society, International). Their main activity as a group was to conduct consciousness-raising sessions where each member got up and addressed the others, telling her story about how some man ruined her life—or was about to.

This placed an enormous strain on Melba because it was getting pretty near her turn to speak, and she had never had any relationship with a man. She could have complained about her father, but he abandoned her family when she was twelve years old, and she never knew him. She never really blamed the man, considering how awful her mother was.

She had originally joined JAMIT because she had gotten a job in a tough part of town and wanted to learn how to protect herself. She thought the group was strictly a self-defense judo school. The judo part was offered without charge, but you then had to attend all of the other activities.

At first, Melba was shocked to hear the bitter complaints that the members made about men in general, and she resisted what was said. The only reason she stuck it out was to benefit from the free judo instruction. Gradually, however, she started sympathizing with many of the women after they told dozens of nasty stories about the terrible behavior of men toward women.

Within six months, Melba was as militant as any one of them. As a matter of fact, she was more militant than the rest because she developed the zeal of a convert with no real experience of her own.

(Continued on page 54)

DUKE Goes To Acapulco

By C.C. Black

Flipping out on Acapulco’s famous beaches is a vacationer’s full-time lot. Scenic temptations under a bright sun—both come together. I’d have to try.

One of the girls actually blushed when she heard that line, and it didn’t take much subtlety to see if I could figure out what would prefer. To move my hand. The other girl said it was what I had been waiting to hear, and I lost no time in accepting.

Sue and I—guess we both know what each other likes, and how to satisfy it. But I suggested my place, just out of an old sense of caution which neither of us ever really went along with without each other.

"A sister can’t act like a sister all the time," I muttered under my breath.

But you see, there were two of them and only one of me. And I figured to even the odds by meeting them on my own home ground.

Acapulco’s fantastic scenery and beautiful hotels really impressed me. It was amusing to watch them. Sure, the other one chirped up.

As we got into the swing of things, their game was: "Your place, or ours?"

Well, it had been a long time since I arrived until I discovered the energy to pick it up during my whole stay.

(Continued on page 62)

Melodie Tropicana

Favorita, 24, is a well-known model on the San Juan scene.

"I’ve been modeling since I was sixteen, and it’s an easy way to make a living. What I really want to be is a singer, however. My sister sings in downtown San Juan, and since we look alike, sometimes she lets me take her place when she wants a night off."

Favorita admits she needs more training:

"I try to follow my sister’s lead because her voice is like mine, but I want to develop my own style too. It’s not fun if I must always imitate her."

Duke asked Favorita if she could dance.

"Of course! Did you know that all Puerto Ricans are dancers?"

She moved her body in rhythm to the hard-beat rock that has become popular recently on this fabulous tropical island.

"See? You think I can’t dance? I’ll show you."

Favorita Perez is happy in her San Juan home.

"Many Puerto Ricans like to go to New York, but not me. Here in San Juan I’ve got my own apartment, and that includes a pool, palm trees, and a phonograph with all of the latest Puerto Rican recordings. I think the States are a nice place to visit, but San Juan is paradise."

Kitty Could Strip Your Gears

By P.J. Howell

On Saturday night, when most guys are on dates, Jim and I were sort of track favorites, and we were down at the Wilson County Speedway spinning dust clouds and banging fenders.

I drove an old green ’67 Chevy that I kept in running shape with the help of some mechanic friends. It was an expensive hobby, and even though I was a regular winner, the money wasn’t enough to keep the wheels rolling. All my extra money went for the old green comet.

Tonight, Jim walked over and said,

"Buddy, I’m going to give you a real run for your money tonight."

I shrugged as I yanked up the hood.

"Prize money is the same as always. What’s so special?"

I followed his gaze, and I felt my eyes widen as they took in the chick leaning on the rail. She was small, maybe every bit of five-one, but the Lord had worked wonders with that five-one. I only glanced at her to feed me and toss my clothes into her washing machine.

Of course, Ruthie nagged me every so often about saving money and thinking about the future, but I wasn’t worried about anything except the old green comet.

She was a honey-blonde hair and pouting, Heatherton-type lips, because I wanted to take in the rest of her: big, bouncy breasts straining a halter with no bra, and even from where I looked, I could see the dark nipples protruding. My eyes moved on down to her firm little exposed belly and flesh showing way below her navel in the tight hip-hugger shorts. The thighs and legs below were curvy and ripe.

"Just because that little Kathy Dail wrote you a dear John letter, you have to be a woman-hater," Ruthie sucked my breath in.

"Wow!" was all I could get out.

She always was a flirt. Jim gave me a slap on the back.

"Eat your heart out."

(Continued on page 60)

If It Feels Good, Do It!

"If it feels good, no matter what it is you’re doing, do it," is the philosophy of Susan Arthurs.

Susan lives in southern California and considers herself a free soul. She works for a living as a freelance artist, and that means she can work out of her beach house—a place she almost never leaves.

"I saved for years to buy this place, and now that I’m here, I don’t ever want to leave. I feel free; completely. I can do what I want, when I want. I can swim and run around naked if I like. It’s the only way to live. I can have friends visit and spend weekends with me on the beach. People are afraid to do what they want. I say if it feels good and you like it, then do it!"

Susan feels that too many people dream about what they really want to do and never get around to doing it.

"Life is too short for dreaming. I’m a doer. If I fall in love with a guy, then I love him and he loves me. It might last only a month or two, or a year or two—the important thing is that it happened and that it felt good and that we were happy. People keep looking for the end of the rainbow and forget how to live on the way there. They forget that they have to look for a pot of gold. Just live each day as it comes and do what comes naturally."

Poolside Manners

"The neighbors can’t see me unless they peep through a hole in the fence," says pretty Kathy McLean, who lives in Clearwater, Florida.

"I wouldn’t dream of bathing in the nude without a fence, but I wouldn’t want a pool either unless I could bathe without a suit."

Kathy comes from a line of skinny-dippers.

"My father swims without a suit, and so does my mother. And believe it or not, my sisters recently persuaded my grandmother to go naked!"

"Now that’s a pretty swinging family, what say?"

The French Have A Word For It

Danielle says that it really doesn’t matter if she can’t speak English:

"My tongue speaks in many more interesting ways, and my eyes will say even more than my tongue."

Danielle lives in New York, where she moved two years ago from Paris. She is sharing an apartment with a girlfriend who is trying to make sure that Danielle knows as much English as possible.

"I like to speak with every American man, but what can I do if I don’t know the word?"

Danielle winks happily:

"It’s easy. Body language works!"

"I learn new words every day, but most of them don’t seem nearly as important as a smile, a look, or the way I walk. Of course, I’ll admit that it’s harder to communicate with women this way. But if they’re smart, they understand, and I don’t even have to say a word. The French use so many ways to communicate besides words. We know how limiting words can be and how much we can say if we use new ways to communicate."

Getting Stiff At Belle’s

By Adam Granite

Something was wrong—really wrong. Honey was laying right there beside me, her reddish-blonde hair spread over her full breasts and the satin sheets she liked to cling to the rest of her. It had been another one of those fabulous nights, with Honey cooking dinner and with lots of wine to wash it down, and this should have been dessert.

Somehow, though, things just weren’t working out the way they should, and I was the one that wasn’t working.

Honey said, tossing her hair back and sitting up in bed,

"What’s the matter with you anyway, Mark? Don’t tell me you’re bored!"

As she spoke, she moved her two hands up over her stomach, slowly running them up her body and finally cupping her breasts.

"No, it’s not that," I assured her, damning whatever it was that had put me out of commission.

I’d spent a lot of evenings with Honey, and if you were a baseball nut, you could say that some of them were home runs and some were slow drives. Our extra innings sometimes lasted until four or five in the morning, but this time I’d struck out without even getting up at bat.

"I don’t know what’s wrong, Honey," I said, feeling my face get red.

Well, she whispered in a low, throaty voice,

"Maybe your batteries need recharging."

I can’t say I didn’t know what hit me. I could feel Honey’s breasts pushing my chest as she leaned over me, sticking her tongue into my mouth. For a moment, we wrestled as I tried to reverse our positions, but Honey was insistent.

"Just leave it to me," she whispered, and I was too much of a gentleman to refuse.

(Continued on page 58)

Down On The Farm

Gloria Turner is a 23-year-old secretary who gave up her career and a lifestyle she couldn’t handle any longer for a new way of living. Believe it or not, she packed up her belongings and left her swinging New York single’s life and headed south for Virginia, where she bought herself a little farm.

That’s right—Gloria is now a farmer. She grows a little tobacco, a little cotton, and raises horses. And she loves every moment of it, including the hard work from sunup to sundown. And she quickly tells that she’ll never return to big-city life after this.

She doesn’t do all the work herself, however. She does have a couple of hired hands to pitch in with the heavy work. Even though she’s a lady farmer, the men don’t make fun of her.

"The thing I like most about farming is the close association with nature and mother earth. I love waking up in the morning to the sounds of birds and nature and clean air. It makes me feel good to see things grow. It’s the kind of hard work that makes you feel really alive inside. And there are times when I can just put aside my work and relax with nature. I love going out into the fields to sunbathe nude, and taking a nap in the afternoon is so refreshing. If you’ve ever spent some time on a farm, you know how much fun it can be."

Some people tease her about being a lady farmer, but she doesn’t mind.

"I’m my own boss, and I can do as I please. I enjoy that kind of freedom. My hired hands treat me very well too. I don’t know what I’d do without them because it could get lonely without them around."

Daughter Knows Best

"I got away from home as soon as I could," says Jean Hudson, 21, from Arlington, Virginia.

"I loved my parents, but they were a bit old-fashioned. My mom insisted that I be in each night by 12. I tried to please her, but life wasn’t any fun with such an early curfew."

"I don’t know what she was afraid of," says Jean, "because she liked all of my boyfriends. Anyway, I’m on my own now."

In Love In Rome

Aldo is a photographer, and Claudia loves the romance of a horse-drawn carriage with the right gentleman. Claudia has modeled for him and sometimes dates him.

"When a girl falls in love, that’s great, wherever it happens. But when a girl falls in love in Rome, everything is more romantic—more exciting, more everything."

Perhaps that’s because Rome is really a city for lovers. It’s a city of fountains, sidewalk cafes, and strolling lovers. It’s the city where our lovely Claudia fell in love.

Claudia fell in love with Rome, not just a Roman guy. She loves being there and loving there. She is an actress who also works as a model, and we expect big things from her in the future. Her friends, like Aldo here, are certain that she will be the next Sophia Loren.

"What girl wouldn’t be flattered by such compliments?"

It comes to women—especially women pinchers. It is Claudia’s dream to be a movie star. Roman men are notorious for it.

The Nude In The Red Convertible

By John David Edwards

If it were possible, would you make it with the girl of your dreams?

John David Edwards had a recurring dream. In it, he would wake up early on Christmas morning. Bleary-eyed, he’d get out of bed and stagger into the room. There, under the tree, draped in tinsel and frost, is a copy of The New York Times. He kneels to open it and finds on page 21—a page that somehow turns to automatically—a picture of a girl in a Cadillac convertible. She is entirely nude, and the headline reads: "Twentieth-Century Lady Godiva."

The clattering alarm clock woke him with a start. Gabriella muttered, half asleep, and reached up to the bureau to turn it off. She rolled over and cuddled into the warmth of his body.

"Johnny," she said, and her breath made him tingle, "please don’t get up."

He responded gradually to her fond caresses. Although her silken blond hair lay invitingly across his chest, he couldn’t shake the dream from his mind—not completely. He’d had that dream now three times in a row, and its mystifying contents, in addition to its recurrence, puzzled him.

But Gabriella was fondling his stomach under the covers. She gently nuzzled his neck and playfully bit his lower lip until the memory of the dream faded in the warm July morning.

Gabriella was a charming, curvy hippie chick he had picked up a month ago in Greenwich Village. He let her tongue roll down his chest. She was panting, and he allowed himself to be drawn into her rhythm until their rocking passion climaxed into a thousand pinpoints of sensation. Afterwards, sleep almost overtook him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and the newspaper picture flashed before him once more. Hastily, he opened his eyes and jumped out of the bed.

"Fix me some breakfast, Gab," he told his obliging bedmate and thoughtfully walked into the bathroom.

Gabriella was an astrology nut. For weeks, she had been trying to get John to come down to her Saturday afternoon astrology classes, but John, a skeptic, had refused. This morning, however, when she expressed her desire for the fiftieth time, John indulgently agreed.

"You said there are some good-looking chicks that are into astrology?" he half-kiddingly asked her.

"Well, if that’s why you’re finally coming!"

He let his hand trail smoothly across her thigh.

"Never said I was a one-girl cat," he smiled and kissed her quickly before she could reply.

And so, Saturday afternoon found John and Gabriella sitting on a sofa in a room filled with 15 devout believers. There were Scorpios, Capricorns, and Cancers.

(Continued on page 64)

A Breath In Time

Whenever friends ask Paula Hartman from Columbus, Ohio, why she’s so calm and relaxed all the time, she just tells them that she breathes right.

"I know how to slow down my breathing so that I’m not so rushed. Often, if I’m under pressure, I take a few breaths, and everything seems to fall into place without the slightest bit of trouble. I never let anyone rush me."

Good breathing habits keep her in pretty good shape. When she’s hurrying through the city, she makes sure that she keeps her breathing in tune with her gait so that neither gets out of kilter.

"Breathing is really so basic, and yet not many people know how to do it to their own advantage. I believe in learning to do the simple, basic things first, and I know that once I can do them, life’s more strenuous activities come easier."

Paula sits quietly for five or ten minutes each day and experiences the sensations that come to her as she breathes:

"I try to feel my breath as it goes in and out of my nostrils or up and down my throat. It takes only a few minutes before I’m as relaxed as a kitten, and before I’m feeling ready and able to do almost anything, no matter how much energy it takes."

But even in the midst of the most strenuous physical activities, Paula claims that she still pays attention to her breathing.

"I know that if I lose touch with my breath, it’ll be harder to keep in rhythm with whatever I happen to be doing."

Burn My Bra? Never!

Cynthia Keats, 23, likes every stitch of clothing she owns. That includes her bra, too, she says, and you’d never find her burning anything she owns.

"If I don’t like a piece of clothing, I pass it on to my friends or to a younger relative."

Cynthia spends hours in search of exciting new clothes.

"It’s not that I’m covering anything up—it’s just that when I’m dressed, I like to be as sharp as possible."

Her wardrobe is filled with goodies that make Cynthia look like the stunner she is.