Rolf: Hollywood Marines

“…he’d choose his partners, like picking lobsters from a restaurant tank. The winning candidates, if they could perform, would get $200 a shot.” – Rolf

Since the publication of my first book in 1993 I’ve received upwards of a thousand letters from men from all over the world who have written to share with me their own experiences about admiring, desiring, loving and / or having sex with military men. Many who have written me are themselves active-duty servicemen or veterans, but even more have been civilians. Their stories sparked my curiosity: What exactly is it about a man in uniform that so enthralls us? And what happens when an idealized sexual attraction becomes a long-term real life pursuit, or even a vocation?

These are some of the questions I’ve explored in my newest volume of interviews, essays and photographs, Military Trade. Some of the more sensational contributors include:

  • a TV talk-show host who pimped Marines to Hollywood stars
  • a heavy metal superstar who dreams of being reincarnated as a Marine boot
  • a woman (“a gay man trapped in a woman’s body”) who seduces Marines online then dominates them in person
  • a former Force Recon Marine who complains of being chased by civilians but is now a Marine-chaser himself

Though “military chasers” come from all walks of life, it seems that most of us share a certain (arguably classic) masculine ideal; a desire to be immersed in large numbers of military men; a conviction that servicemen are more likely than civilians to believe in honor and integrity; and a yearning for “pure” homosocial camaraderie or “buddy love” – but one that allows for sex between men.

Today, it’s tempting to drop hints about the identity of the names on [1960's military pimps'] lists. But let me take the coward’s route and tell you about three who’ve died in the interim. The most generous of them all was short, wiry, and black: a multi-talented entertainer who ran with a trend-setting pack of boozers and womanizers-certainly not a public image that included his secret need to bottom for well-hung Marines. He’d rented a “safe house” for his encounters, well away from his wife. And there he’d watch through a one-way mirror as his recruiters’ candidates romped naked in the pool. From that vantage point, he’d choose his partners, like picking lobsters from a restaurant tank. The winning candidates, if they could perform, would get $200 a shot.

But, by contrast, many celebs on The Game proved tight-fisted, some preferring to think the pleasure of their company ought to have been payment enough; some struggling to meet the cost of a celebrity lifestyle on declining income. Take the case of a middling-famous character actor, aged about 60 at the time, with a sagging face discolored by drink. His thing was serial peter-puffing-ideally, four or five at one kneeling. But, at home, the man had an unsuspecting wife and two college-age kids to support on an income from his incidental role in a faltering detective series. For him, $15 a pop was the going rate, except when bartering for a truly huge exception. ["Boogie Nights" - era adult film performer and U.S. Marine] Gary Boyd was such an exception, and I can still see the old actor sitting in my living room, his face magenta with fury as [a pimp] whipped Boyd out the door with the excuse that, sorry, he’d been promised, fully loaded, to a hugely successful actor known for his long-running series of courtroom dramas. Later that night (I heard indirectly) my frustrated friend showed up drunk at a straight producer’s party for married couples. Spotting a handsome young actor across the room, my friend reeled over to him and introduced himself as the man who gave “the second best blow job in Hollywood.” Despite the sudden silence all around, the startled young actor just had to ask, “Who gives the best?”

“Oh, Perry Mason, without a doubt,” came the loud reply.

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