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New project.mp4 A couple days ago we told you about the First Annual Loveless Motel Cat Show. Scratch that. (so to speak). Make that First and Last. Here's what went down. A late entry was called in Friday night, and Nic allowed the two men, Alberich and Bob, to enter their cat. The men arrived with quite a bit of luggage and one very large crate, and due to its size, they were given a larger unit on Lover's Lane near the other entrants' lodgings, however all the recently tiled units were taken and so a carpeted unit had to do. Yesterday morning, the day of the show, held in Footlight Fairies Cabaret, each of the owners set up his table with his cat on display, and Alberich and Bob wheeled in their sizeable crate. The table had to be removed due to its inadequacy, and the two men stood next to the big box while the auditorium filled with cat fanciers and curiosity seekers alike. There were oohs and ahs as the crowd began to circulate among the tables, hardly observing little easy-to-follow directional signs like "Do not insert your fucking fingers into the fucking cage". The temptation to feel fur is just a bit much for some people, and so there was a lot of touching and feeling going on of the cats, too. Foregoing the usual understated attire for such a show, Alberich in his rhinestone studded cape, and Bob with a whip, in his bulging skin-tight unitard, stood out among the others, but unfortunately the crate being guarded by the two men was solid wood, and there was nothing to be seen, so the crowd largely ignored them.

Milky Way A well-worn path in a park or the woods known for cruising -1960s- "I visited the Milky Way last weekend and met this older guy who said he was rich and owned a yacht, but that his access to it was tied up in probate at the moment. So I let him suck my dick."

Convenience is our middle name at Hit and Split, your destination at Loveless Motel for the latest in, candy cigarettes, real ones, single cans of beer for daytrips into town, aspirin and condoms. Just in, some light reading material, reminding us that ginger men are a real rarity around here. Catch one if you can. Then, stop over to After Midnight Arcade and catch the latest addition to redhead beefcake, (we know the first gay naked man you ever saw in print was in Playgirl, and we've just received a used copy with a few pages that are stuck together)

An unexpected snow overnight has the lads up to their cockles in mischief here at Loveless Motel. Guest Communications had to send out a missing person inquiry to make sure everyone was safely accounted for, which took several hours, when Dick Gee of Dick Gee's Hair and Now said someone should just take a blow drier and see if they could thaw the snowman out to verify there wasn't an actual body inside. Anyone paying attention could have also guessed that if he DID drink that whole bottle, that he'd be just fine anyway.

Loveless Motel's First Annual Cat Show is fast approaching, and guests have sent in photos of themselves and their entries. "Snap" Wadmacher of Shutter Bug Camera Shop will be photographing the event with his best feline buddy, Litterace', the piano playing wonder cat, who also doubles as Snap's assistant, whenever a smile is required from a subject. "Snap" received the cat as a gift some time ago from a grateful guest Lee, for services rendered, who faithful readers may remember filled in for Paul at Ticklers Lounge after the waffle iron incident. The exhibition will be held in the Footlight Fairies Cabaret venue, located off the lobby, which will be transformed into a small auditorium for the event. Excitement is building as word gets around about the names of several high profile previous guests who have told us they can't wait to flaunt their pussies in front of an audience. Guests entering the contest will be housed in a section of units in Aluminum City along Tin Can Alley, where several units have had carpet removed and tile laid down. The park-like setting of the area is perfect for exercising your pussy, night or day. A frequent guest, a well-known exhibitionist and practical joker has sent a photo of his "entry", but Nic the senior manager has called him, and good-naturedly thanked him for his effort, and to say that we recognize that his pussy has been photoshopped in - nice try. Nic told him that he is "open" to another kind of "entry" and asked Psycho Randy to hold all his calls for 20 minutes.

Birdwhistle Tearoom management has been informed that one of the waiters complained his tip had been stolen from a table that had not yet been bussed, by an unknown perpetrator who dined in the restaurant Saturday night. A typically busy night forced him to get to the table late, after after he had seen a large wad of cash being put on the tray after the bill had been paid, when while leaving, the table host thanked and congratulated him on his perfect presentation of a flaming baked Alaska. Several groups were seated in close proximity to the table. It might have been anyone from those surrounding tables, all seemingly animated and having a good time with little care about their surroundings except for the usual titter and din of evaluations of any one group of men by all the others, which is the necessary ritual assessment of potential tricks for the evening. All gay men have these discussions with their pals. "What about that one?" "Nice face, but did you see that horrible manicure when he lifted his glass? I bet his toenails are dirty", etc., etc. Then the snappy comeback: "It's not his toes I'll be be sucking." This night, the assembled members of the Ten Commandments Club, dining together with their applicant, took note of the anguish of the waiter whose tip their tablemate had just nicked. One of their number suggested to the thief that he should approach the waiter, offer his condolences, and invite him back to their elegantly appointed rented clubhouse in Aluminum City. The plan all went pretty successfully. Members are all smooth talkers, appear above suspicion, and are all devastatingly good looking. Who in his right mind would say no to such an invitation? He's lucky this wasn't a 6th commandment night. And The Ten Commandments Club has its newest member, who, now richer by fifty dollars, stood in line to screw the waiter once again.

To be continued... There have always been secret groups, societies, meetings and affiliations of men. The origin of Loveless Lodge was rooted on the principle that a location should exist for a clientele which sought a place of guaranteed near-anonymity and discretion, as envisioned and fulfilled by founders Edgar Loveless and Sinjin Birdwhistle. At Loveless Motel, a certain group of Mauve Tavern regulars also count themselves as members of The Ten Commandments Club. Not advertised among the Tavern's general clientele, its associates do not generally congregate there as one might at a clubhouse, but generally clandestinely book a tin can in Aluminum City now that it is up and running but in prior years took a suite in town for the club's specific purposes, even while maintaining simultaneous bookings at Loveless Motel, in order to maintain the discreet nature of the club's business. Membership is generally held by The Mauve's more well-heeled professional clientele - young men are a rarity within its fellowship, given the life experiences necessary to meet its rules, which are more probably found in a well-seasoned gentlemen. Long conversations initiated by a member with an interesting looking prospect might start at a barstool in the tavern. Then with a predetermined signal given by one member to another nearby, indicating certain conditions have been met, a move to a more private table would occur, and the two would be joined by the accomplice. This method has been perfected over the years, and is adhered to by those participating in acquiring new members. A prospect has no way of knowing he is being interviewed or about to be hooked. By necessity, things will generally progress to a more horizontal approach elsewhere. It is quite amazing when one thinks about it, that any current prospect will come from the pool of select gentlemen who have already been subjected to the elimination round faced by all Mauve Tavern customers, who were able to successfully spell "Ferragamo." It's also true that, not by happenstance, each member is devastatingly good looking,(however subjective a judgement that might be) practically on the level of popular matinee idols. In fact, there have been two members who attained that level of fame, flirtatiously inviting personal upheaval; a fellow member not in that specific category of fame had even said in conversation while accompanying his idol to one of his premieres, while they were seated together in the dark, watching the actor's flickering performance as he dashed across the screen in an open shirt, the camera and lighting catching the beading sweat on his hirsute chest in his latest pirate epic, "My, but can you even imagine losing all of that?" The answer was a curt "That kind of talk can get a man killed" which earned a sniggering retort of "Maybe so, but you know it wouldn't count." It's numbers, by rule, are only increased by one annually , though some years no worthy postulant is found. There are those reunions during which several of its members convene at Loveless Motel though the norm is that a smaller number might be in attendance for an initiation. Group members must have broken each of the Ten Commandments. Members meet annually to initiate an inductee, by witnessing the last sin remaining on the man's list, in progress, the group then celebrating his accomplishment by indulging in acts of physical intimacy, generally recorded on film. This year, the candidate's remaining sin is theft. Coincidentally, no opportunity has arisen to witness a violation of the 6th commandment, a condition which has therefore been verifiably fulfilled by all club members, though in its meetings, the subject of the possibility of such an event has been debated, and not ruled out.

From time to time our office receives complaints after a stay, invariably asking for compensation. This photograph was sent in by an irate guest who says that housekeeping provided his party with an inadequate solution for bathing when, due to plumbing issues during their stay, and overbooking our facilities, the guests were unable to use the communal showers at the Bunkhouse, where they had booked. Offered to upgrade to a motel room at a slight discount, they declined due to their own budget constraints. While it is true that we do provide portable bathing tubs upon request, Loveless Motel as determined that the small vessel in the photo the guest sent is not a tub we would have provided The standard model, The Rub-a-Dub Tub pictured below, is much larger, as anyone can plainly see, and these were available during the guest's stay. Furthermore, there is no notation on the guest file that a request was made for a portable tub. Unfortunately the request for a freebee will be denied, and the guest's profile will be appropriately noted. As a gesture of goodwill, the management will include in its condescending and saccharinely worded "Gotcha" form-letter of regret, a 10 percent off coupon for a bar of soap, with an expiration date of April 1, this year. Of course, guests with complaints should always bring these to the attention of management during a stay, and not after it, but often those things which need not be said do need to be said. Timeliness of complaints is also addressed in the teeny tiny fine print of the lodging contract each guest signs at check-in, however the attention of our guests is generally diverted elsewhere, as Psycho Randy, the front desk clerk is notorious for cruising new arrivals while playing pocketpool in full view of his mark during a guest's check-in process

These gents are what you call organic queers. That is to say, that rural men do what comes naturally. Hours spent alone tilling, plowing, mucking, plucking, shucking, sowing, fertilizing, irrigating and whatever else there is to do to keep a place going, invariably are broken by incidents of body self exploration and awareness. Jacking off in the middle of your newly plowed field while seated on the tractor, while no one is around to witness or tell is a time-honored tradition, and a rite of passage for many, especially when they encounter fellow community men in the act. Curiosity eventually fosters action. Out behind the barn, the farmhands are taking a break for a short masturbation session, learning that its a lot more fun to do with a buddy what up until now was reserved for a farm animal with a nice face. And things are always made more interesting when there's a new hand who's brought into the fold. What goes on out behind the barn is a thing. The man in the middle is a little more experienced and gets the Loveless Motel Circular that comes every month with news, gossip, pictures, and ads for special deals. He's convinced the other two to book a 3 day weekend and take the 4 hour drive over where he promises he'll act as a tour guide to fellow sodbusters Goober and Bill-Don who are wide-eyed at the prospect of seeing a place where what they do isolated on a tractor or out behind the barn is not the exception, but the norm. They've been told a little but not too much; their mentor has them booked into the Bunkhouse. Pouring over the circular ads, they can't wait to see some of the fancy duds shown in the spreads for Suit Up and Packaged Goods! Land o' Goshen!, are there people who actually buy store-bought skivvies instead of making them out of feed sacks?

Responding to an ad in our circular, these four gents, occasional repeat guests from Schenectady, New York, have sent an application and been approved to be in the big Nutbush Camp Ground Opening Day Parade and Celebration at Loveless Motel. The parade will queue up in the Motorpool parking lot, winding its way through the property, leading interested guests past the 8 Ball Bar and Bunkhouse, up the road past The Stables, through the camp ground gate to the communal campfire area where participants will provide demonstrations and entertainment. These fellows claim they are acrobats, aggressive and skilled at a number of feats which will leave the crowd stunned, during which they intend to invite cooperative and openminded volunteers from the audience who will be eager to lie there and t̶a̶k̶e̶ i̶t̶ (respond) to a few c̶o̶m̶m̶a̶n̶d̶s̶ (suggestions). The quartet of junior factory managers has been practicing the concept on a collection of local h̶u̶s̶t̶l̶e̶r̶s̶ (GE union workers) who needed ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶c̶a̶s̶h̶. (a financial cushion to tide them over during the recent labor strikes), A few surprises are promised.

Recent victims of the jockstrap thief who's been menacing Loveless Motel meet together at "Juices," the health nut juice bar at The Tubs in the basement of the Bunkhouse. Gabby B. Lyon, the juice jerk there gets their attention as he tells them about the fragment of a mumbled conversation he overheard between a couple of men the other night. Just out of sight, he couldn't tell who they were, but clearly heard "It's YOU!" "Ordinarily I hear nothing but it was such a quiet night and very few guys. I know that new hotel dick was here because he sat here and had a carrot juice and said he wanted to pump me for some information. I told him I couldn't imagine what information he thought might be worth pumping me for, but that my shift ends at 6AM. He told me he'd be gone by then but would pin me down another time, finished his juice and headed for the showers. I'm pretty sure it was his voice. About half an hour after that, another guy came in, sat on the same stool - I recognized him as the Doc, wearing a jockstrap that was a little too big on him - go figure! He gave a lecture last year in the Grab Basket Conference Room - something like "You and your Dick". It was pretty thorough...he demonstrated and asked us all to join in. While he was drinking his carrot juice I reminded him about that lecture. He gave me a nice tip, right in this jar here that says "TIPS" " Gabby then makes a grand gesture, lifting the jar in front of his customers, his head cocked and eyebrows raised, saying but not saying "Fill 'er up, motherfuckers". One of the smart-aleck gobblers says "I forgot my wallet" and they all wander off tittering "Oh, Mary" this and "Oh, Mary" that... "You can't get a word in edgewise with that little queen. I don't think he took a fucking breath the whole fucking time! Next time, I swear I'm gonna pull a quarter outta my ass for that jar"

A cold weather version of the Sunday Tea Dance, a Skate In at the 8 Ball Bar, turned into a real Ball buster as there were three collisions, one with the bartender who had a tray full of beer and schnapps which got dumped on a pool table. If it warps, somebody will pay. Down for pool, it was immediately repurposed by a couple men who drew a crowd, and guys started putting their sloppy seconds quarters on the table in a hurry.

. A recent Help Wanted ad in one of the manly magazines sold at After Midnight Arcade yielded unexpected results. There are still a few prospective campsites which, having been cleared of timber, now need to have the remaining stumps removed by grinding them down, and the only man in town known to grind stumps lost his equipment in a poker game and his main grind, the amputee postwoman, an Armenian immigrant named Aznef Bizdikian, dumped him for a ventriloquist with a lisp- hence the ad was placed in hopes more exposure would net results. Here are a few of the most interesting candidates. See if you can spot the man that's sure to have a leg up.

Game show host Garry Moore leans toward the man at his desk, his hand cupped over his ear, and says in the direction of the TV camera, "Dr. Long, what is your secret?" Just as he does so, the black and white image starts to tumble, and Nic, Loveless Motel's senior manager, gets up off the couch in his private quarters to adjust the vertical hold. "What a coincidence, gentlemen - I wonder if that Dr. Long is aa jockstrap thief too?" Giving up, he turns the set off. "I guess we'll never know. So what do you think about all this, John?" "So I'm a klepto! But I'm also a good doctor. - just ask Harry!" Harry nods in assent and says the doc has a way with using a rectal thermometer, and prescribing aspirin for just about everything including headaches, the runs, and mood swings. "I don't know whether the aspirin works 100 percent of the time, but he sure sells a shitload of pills in that little tin can dispensary" say Harry. "So here's what I propose. We tell no-one about this", Nic says. "I know a guy who can sell this mail order - once a month, Dr. Longjohn, you box up whatever you're finished sniffing and send it to my pal - he get's his cut, you get yours, and I get 50 percent of what he sends you. You stay employed and out of jail, and we continue to have our guests sign a waiver saying we're not responsible for lost articles, and direct them to Packaged Goods! to buy new jockstraps with a 10 percent off coupon. Everybody wins. That is, except you, Harry. This thing has fallen into your lap, so it's not like you solved some big shit. As far as everybody knows, this is a cold case, and you still need to prove yourself. Now lets play that game of poker. Get Psycho Randy in here...."

In a stunning development overnight, House Detective Harry Biggerstaff writes in his private journal that he has apprehended the jockstrap thief who has been plaguing The Bunkhouse for the past month, He recounts that he had decided to award himself some personal R and R at the Tubs on what he thought would be a slow night, which since assuming his position as Loveless Motel's hotel dick has been one of the perks he most enjoyed. Most of all, the ritual of slowly removing his clothes for any onlookers in the locker room, stowing his duds neatly away and producing from his old ditty bag, the container he was never without on a night he knew he would not be home, a toothbrush and his old worn jockstrap into which he changed, barely containing its contents; to walk around in it was a performance he relished, knowing it was like bait to anyone present, particularly to those shy voyeurs he could later approach. "I see you enjoyed watching me in the locker room" was an opening that took most men by surprise, but paid off in results just the same. And so this quiet evening was no exception. Though in the dark he couldn't quite see his stalker's features, he sensed someone was watching, and proceeded with his show. His next step as always was to walk through the hallway of private enclosures to see if any doors were open, to view any men pleasuring themselves or others, and in the absence of any obvious opportunities, head back to the locker area, slowly remove his jock, place it on a hook, stretching as he did so, for the added enjoyment of anyone watching, with his arms above his head and back arched so that his still-flaccid cock dangled momentarily before it began to come to life, and then he would turn to step into the nearby shower. This night, in the quiet semi-dark he could hear the squeak of another man's bare feet behind him as the hot water cascaded down his chest, his back to the hook on the wall, the water finding its way down his ass to the floor, making a splat sound as he soaped up. He's then startled as there's a deep intake of another man's breath with a snort sound, and whipping round, nearly loosing his balance on the wet tile, he sees a naked man with a jockstrap over his head, holding the crotch cup fabric to his nose with one hand , stroking his fist-wrapped meat with his other, while exhibiting the wide open eyes of one who's been caught red-handed. "It's YOU!" Blurting and dumbfounded, Harry stands there soaked and dripping as the man grins back, begins to chuckle out loud, and between chortles and guffaws, Dr. John Long manages to gush out "I confess!" To which Harry then says, barely containing his own upwelling laughter "I see you enjoyed watching me in the locker room!" TO BE CONTINUED....

Bear A large and/or hairy gay man -1980s- In 1979 Advocate published a satirical article by writer George Mazzei, entitled "Who's Who in the Zoo" which assigned, via the illustrations of cartoonist Gerald Donelan, animal bodies to several types of gay men, including bears, owls, cats, dogs, marmosets and swans. Not long thereafter, in 1987 Richard Bulger and Chris Nelson founded Bear Magazine which included models which fit the physical description. Jack Radcliffe was an early model who epitomized the ideal "muscle bear" with a full and solid hairy body and handsome bearded face.

Loveless Motel has placed this note on your door this morning because we expect things to be a bit windy today. We recommend not going out during the morning hours, and as a safety precaution, all patio furniture has been temporarily stored until after the dinner hour.

Summer activities are heating up at Loveless Motel. We've retained the services of one of our frequent guests for this season, Coach Luke Atma Peterson, and he's ready to teach you a thing or two, We understand he's just as good at twirling balls off the court, as he is on the court. His goal is to loosen you up and stretch your holistic horizons.

After Midnight Arcade has the newest issue of the Advocate available - just ask for the latest February issue, and while there, pick up a few back issues! Right now you can get the July 1979 issue at half off and entertain yourself with George Mazzei's article "Who's Who in the Zoo" with great illustrations by Advocate cartoonist Gerard Donelon, whose work we excerpt here. We've seen a few of these burly, furry creatures here latel and a few were observed skinny dipping recently - a misapplied name for an activity which doesn't quite cover these men, literally or figuratively speaking. It appears they would make a downright acceptable solution to those cold nights we've been having. Looks like we have a winner in the "Give me another gay label" contest. Bear meat, anybody?

Traditionally the first snow after Groundhog Day at Loveless Motel, the Polar Bear Club meets for its annual celebration of freezing your ass off in Lake Loveless, because the pursuit of non-stop indiscriminate and anonymous sex just isn't enough for some vacationers at our discreet little paradise. Central to the yearly observance is "Pops" Vielengelt, its original organizer and an Oshkosh, Wisconsin delicatessen owner who remembers the days when Edgar Loveless and Sinjin Birdwhistle entertained at Loveless Lodge. Never without the company of a youthful companion, this year he's treating us to the visage of his twin "nephews" who'll escort him into the frigid lake waters. He says their names are Dan and Don, and whenever he forgets their names, he only needs to sing the bell sounds of Frère Jacques in French ("din, dan, don") to keep himself out of trouble, which also serves as a reminder to him that they are uncut, whenever that happens to come up in conversation. It's also traditional for Dr. John Long's phone to start ringing off the hook for the next several days as the foolishness of what our "Polar Bears" have done sinks into the heads of some of our more delicate little Pogies, Uranians, Margo Polos and Beach Bitches, necessitating a virtual gangbang of rectal thermometer use and pill-popping in the Doc's office. As if an all out free-for-all Bacchanalian romp after the antediluvian dip would make it all better..

As Nutbush Campground nears final completion and its opening date, Loveless Motel management still needs a steady stream of men with special skills of all kinds. Apply in person for a speedy interview - limber, fit and versatile candidates go to the top of the labor pool list. Generous compensation and benefits included. Speak to Psycho Randy at the front desk. In particular, those with knowledge of hot mopping, flashing, tongue in groove and full penetration butt welds are eagerly sought.

Despite the groundhog saying otherwise, and his consequent fate as "Oxtail Soup" on the menu of Birdwhistle's Tearoom, the weather is nice enough this weekend to offer a Sunday excursion to interested men who might want to do some shopping and sightseeing in town. Less than an hour away, you'll be transported from the bucolic charms of Loveless Motel and its surroundings to the very place you might have wanted to escape in the first place. Based on past trips, we promise at the very least, some cheap entertainment. Don't however, stay too long at the ball, as our bus will leave promptly from the drop-off location at precisely 8PM and a hotel room and cab ride back will cost you more than your weeklong stay with us. We provide here a few pictures of our last Sunday excursion, including the bus driver, some townies, roadside attractions, a few of the fellows who attended, and the bus you wish you were on but won't be. We recommend bringing along enough cash at a minimum for a late lunch and bail.

Snap Wadmacher - still standing! Mr. Dick Gee, Loveless Motel's resident hair burner, of Mr. Dick Gee's Hair and Now, (located off the lobby) informs us that his brother stayed briefly last week at the invitation of Snap Wadmacher, roving photographer of Shutter Bug Camera Shop. Dick had shared that his brother, Mr. Solo Generosamente, needed two things during his visit: a haircut and a professional photo session to have a series of pictures available for placing an ad in a lonely hearts publication in his home city. The resemblance is uncanny between Dick and his sibling; they certainly have the same hair - and as for other attributes, Dick tells us that his own moniker is a sobriquet - and quite a "handle" it is, so we hear. Snap has loaned a few pics for us to publish, with the permission of Solo, who has also agreed to his insertion into a souvenir calendar at an as yet unannounced date. Solo had remained holed up in his room during his stay, only seeing Dick and Snap, and asked that the calendar not be published until he had left Loveless Motel. Asked why Dick thought Solo even needed to advertise, he said his brother has trouble fitting in and he just wants guys to know what they're in for in advance. In other news, Snap Wadmacher informs us he is taking the week off, and will be recuperating from a recent physically taxing ordeal, while mostly in a standing position.

The mailroom boys reported breathlessly to Nic, the senior Manager, this morning, that they'd received a letter with photos from two former guests of a few years back. Tom and Buzz here met at Camp, where they were fellow lifeguards, and a more-than-hard crush developed. They agreed to meet during a college break, one thing led to another, and now they own a farm in the midwest! They also note that as soon as the greenlight is given, they'll be among the first to book and stay at Nutbush Campground, due to open at Loveless Motel in the late spring. Congratulations, Buzz and Tommy! They've also inquired about potentially participating in our Certified Hustler program as a couple after they get their crops in- a first at Loveless Motel, and Nic has temporarily okayed the idea, pending a panel interview and audition, along with the attendance of the Shutter Bug Camera Shop Camera crew headed by Snap Wadmacher, to record the event for the development of a new Calendar series.

Wedding Bells In prison, the squeaking sound a mattress makes, overheard in surrounding cells when two cell-mates are fucking -1950s- "Hey Mac - sounds like Killer and the new kid are hitting it off - I hear wedding bells"