February 18th, 2008

It should keep you up at night.

Ambien bad!  Parody Ad from Hustler Magazine


February 18th, 2008

A Hustler Movie Parody!
Written and drawn by Noel Anderson

Transboners - a Hustler Magazine Movie Parady
Transboners - a Hustler Magazine Movie Parady
Transboners - a Hustler Magazine Movie Parady
Transboners - a Hustler Magazine Movie Parady


February 18th, 2008

Hustler Cartoons by Collins

Hustler Cartoons by McLean

Hustler Cartoons by Bimette

Hustler Cartoons by Trosley

Hustler Cartoons by Collins


February 18th, 2008

Black Rain

The “Prince of Darkness” sounds revived and reinvigorated on his new CD. Although none of the tracks measure up to his early solo work, it’s a solid effort. At the very least it reminds us that Ozzy is not just the star of a goofy reality show, but is still the voice of rock ‘n’ roll!

Minutes to Midnight

These California rockers ditch the rap/metal style that made them stars with stunningly powerful and bombastic results. While some tracks border on Depeche Mode worship, the overall disc is a decent-sounding endeavor.

Werewolves and Lollipops

Although he is best known for playing Spence, the pudgy sidekick on the mainstream sitcom King of Queens , Oswalt is a sick bastard. The alternative comic (whatever that means) delivers this very funny new CD and DVD packed with uncensored attacks on everything from KFC to Paris Hilton.

Deeper Still

When Rick James died in 2004, he was enjoying a resurgence in popularity and recording like a madman. The first of what promises to be several posthumous discs finds the funkmaster in a mellow, romantic mood with seduction on his mind. Highlights include “Taste” and “Stroke.”

Beauty & Crime

Best known for her 1980s hits “Luka” and “Tom’s Diner” (with DNA), folk/rock singer Vega has turned out a disc of sultry and seductive tunes. Beauty & Crime is sure to impress (and maybe help you undress) that cynical girl you’ve been chasing for months. Highlights include “Zephyr & I” and “Pornographer’s Dream.”

Time on Earth

Returning to form after a ten-year hiatus is the original lineup of C.H. (minus drummer Paul Hester, who committed suicide in 2005). The band’s latest CD is packed with hummable pop gems that are sure to garner more critical acclaim and fan adoration.


February 18th, 2008

Fishbone with Hustler MagazinePussy, Politics and Pissing Their Pants

In the past 25 years ska-punk-funk-rock pioneers Fishbone have seen and done it all. Now vocalist/saxophonist Angelo Moore and bassist Norwood Fisher, the band’s creative backbone, recount some of their wildest antics during a memorable stop at HUSTLER headquarters.

HUSTLER: The new Fishbone CD, Still Stuck in Your Throat , has a track called “Let Dem Hos Fight.” So what do you guys think of the “nappy-headed ho” controversy?

FISHER: Well, what we did is we made a video with some stringy-headed hos so we could put a little balance to it. You know. We had some stringy-headed hos, some curly-headed hos and some nappy-headed hos. All that was missing was a bald-headed ho. That turns me on more than anything. Have you had a bald-headed ho?

FISHER: I had a bald-headed ho. She was my girlfriend for almost three years. She was a fine, bald-headed ho with a nice, round ass. I like all hos!

MOORE: That’s crazy as hell, loving all hos equally. Got any good groupie stories?

FISHER:Well, at one point or another they became girlfriends.

MOORE: That’s a trip how that happened.

FISHER: I got kids by a couple.

Fishbone with Hustler MagazineMOORE: I knew my baby’s momma before we were Fishbone.

Then the band came along, and she was somewhat of a groupie. We got married, had a kid and then the whole War of the Roses divorce. Now she’s just a bitch. Shit!

FISHER: There was a time these two girls took me to an abandoned house in Victoria, British Columbia.We smoked tons of honey-oil hash. Then I fucked them both in this abandoned house. A rat actually crawled over us while we were all fucking. Did it stop your flow at all?

FISHER: Didn’t stop a goddamn thing! It did freak me out a little bit. If that rat would have had at my nut sac, I would have been in trouble. Fishbone has always been the funkiest political band out there. What do you think about what’s going on in the world these days?

MOORE: What’s going on is very unfortunate, is very inconvenient and is the truth. Like that Al Gore movie with the global warming coming up and the glaciers melting and shit. The war in Iraq and Bush still being in office. It’s a big, fucking mess, man!

FISHER: I’m ashamed, and I think that the people of America should be ashamed that Bush is our President for all this damn time now. People just accept him as President when he really didn’t win either election? First time I was like, okay, people aren’t going to take this shit, and they’ll be rioting in the streets. This is America. I forgot that New York got tamed. If they tamed New York, then they can tame the fucking world! George Bush is in the same position that Hitler was in as far as he has just overrun a whole country of people, and those people just sit back and watch this guy act like a dictator over a democratic nation. And they just take it!

MOORE: How are you going to follow a President that got on TV and apologized for the war and said, “I fucked up”? Then after he does that, he sends more troops over there. So who’s really in control? The people certainly aren’t. Bush can say anything he wants to say. Are we doomed?

MOORE: It is going to take a big explosion or implosion. America is going to implode. They’re blowing up everybody else. They’re going to implode from the inside. Something big has to happen before change can come about.

FISHER: I would hope it would be like a revelation rather than a revolution— because you can stop a revolution. But if there is actual revelation where people’s mind are awoken, I don’t know what that might look like or what it might take. Something that couldn’t be stopped. What is the worst stage injury you’ve ever sustained?

FISHER: Angelo taking a gouge out of my shins with his brand-new Doc Martins, steppin’ right into my shins doing some spectacular dance moves. Now Angelo is the man of many injuries.

MOORE: Aw, shit! Where do we begin?

FISHER: Let’s start with what started it all—the Dead Kennedys. MOORE: Dead Kennedys’ 1984 “Dinner Is Served” concert at the Starlight Roller Rink. I seen them skinheads getting up there and jumping. I walked in there with a Jheri curl and a—

FISHER: Flight suit.

MOORE: Flight suit. A pop-lockin’ suit I got from Merry Go Round. I seen them punks run up there and jump off the stage and thought, That looks fun. I ran and did it, and the floor opened up, and I landed straight on my knee. I’m sitting off in the corner, holding my knee, going “Oh, damn! Oh, shit! My knee!” And that’s what started all my punk-rock career. “Oh, damn! Oh, shit! My knee!”

FISHER: You got dead people’s knees now. There were also many times I pissed myself onstage, or when Angelo shit on Japanese TV. Did you really shit on Japanese TV?

MOORE: Did I shit on Japanese TV? Really?

FISHER: Yeah, you did! It was a long time ago. I think we were promoting the second CD, In Your Face.We was on this Japanese TV show, and your insides was whirling—

MOORE: Uh, I was in the interview, and I had to get up and go to the toilet.

FISHER: You didn’t get up and go to the toilet. You shit your pants on fucking Japanese TV.

MOORE: Really? Wow!

FISHER: We were performing, and you went for a high note and lost your bowels. It ran down your socks.

MOORE: Could that have happened?

Fishbone with Hustler Magazine

FISHER: I have pissed my pants several times myself onstage in my career. The first time [was when] we played a show in Baltimore. It was in the fucking winter, and I didn’t know anything about packing for snow. I’m cold as hell, and we’re playing this little room called the 8×10. I wanted to play there because it was one of the few places in America that the Sex Pistols had played. Fuck, yeah! It was so fucking cold, and outside we just got fucked up drinking Jack Daniel’s all day before the shows. In the middle of the set I tried to pinch off my dick, and I just started pissing my pants like crazy. All down into my shoes. I did pull my dick out and pissed on the back of the bass like three times again before the show was over.

MOORE: Shit like that happens—when you gotta go.


February 18th, 2008

Showgirls with Elizabeth BerkleyVIDEO REVIEW BY K.K. LE ROQUE

This Month, instead of showcasing just one or two actresses’ risqué résumés of nude scenes, we focus on what many of us regard as the most flesh-tastic flick of all time. This campy cult classic boasts more uncovered boobs per minute than any other film since the invention of the movie camera: Showgirls.

Directed by Paul Verhoeven (Basic Instinct, Robocop, Total Recall, Black Book ) and written by the king of mainstream sleaze, Joe Eszterhas (Basic Instinct, Sliver, Flashdance ), this much-maligned offering is packed with more peaks than any mountain range you’ve ever seen.

The 1995 box-office bomb stars a young and hungry Elizabeth Berkley, who apparently had no choice but to shed her goody-goody image. Before top-lining Showgirls , her biggest credit was a turn as Jessica “Jessie” Spano on the Saturday-morning kids TV show Saved by the Bell. Ironically, Berkley wasn’t the producers’ first choice for wannabe Nomi Malone. Drew Barrymore was originally tapped to portray the stripperturned- starlet. We’re pretty sure that Barrymore—already an established star when Showgirls went into production— wouldn’t have committed to the role like the desperate-for-fame Berkley did.

Showgirls with Elizabeth Berkley and Gina Gershon

If seeing the gorgeous blonde topless, bottomless, giving lap dances, working the pole and engaging in simulated sex (in no less than a dozen scenes) is not reason enough to love this film, you also get to see a bunch of anonymous bare-breasted beauties jiggling about in a bunch of production numbers.

Showgirls with Elizabeth Berkley

Then there’s Gina Gershon. Yes, that Gina Gershon, the tawny bombshell with the pouty lips and penchant for onscreen lesbian lip-locks! Remember Bound? In Showgirls, Gershon—cast as Cristal Connors, the bitchy prima donna of the hottest topless revue on the Las Vegas Strip—is the object of everyone’s desire. The smoldering vixen prances and dances (sans top), and yes, she enjoys a passionate makeout session with halfnaked eager beaver Berkley. Watching Gershon in action, you’re glad the producers didn’t get their first choice, an already-past-her-prime Madonna, to play Cristal.

Showgirls with Elizabeth Berkley and Gina Gershon

The laughable plot takes Nomi through the sleazy underbelly of Vegas strip clubs and showrooms. Eventually, she becomes Sin City’s biggest star by pushing Cristal down a flight of stairs.

What else can we say about this must-have DVD? Tits! Boobs! Milk bags! Well, that, and it costars Kyle MacLachlan of Twin Peaks, Sex and the City and Desperate Housewives fame. Did we mentions tits? Finally, thanks to the fine folks at MGM Pictures for providing us with a bevy of steamy images.

Showgirls with Elizabeth Berkley and Gina Gershon

We hope you have enjoyed this extra-long look at the most breastacular film ever to grace the silver screen. The new “Fully Exposed” edition of Showgirls is now available on DVD for you to own and savor again and again. And dare we say it? Again! Remember, every month HUSTLER delivers the best in cinematic skin. Let us know what you think by e-mailing us at


February 14th, 2008


In 1988, HUSTLER’S publisher won a historic Supreme Court case that was immortalized in the Hollywood movie The People vs. Larry Flynt. The courtroom clash pitted the Reverend Jerry Falwell against Flynt in a battle royale that came to be known as the preacher versus the pornographer. The flashpoint was a November 1983 HUSTLER parody ad (reproduced on the opposite page) that included a mock interview with Falwell highlighted by a totally off-the-wall “revelation”: While both were drunk on Campari liqueur, Falwell had lost his virginity to his mother in an outhouse.

Falwell—ironically, the son of a bootlegger—was unamused and sued Flynt for $45 million. When the dust finally settled, after years of appeals, the self-described smut peddler prevailed over the self-righteous Holy Roller. In a surprise decision the U.S. Supreme Court ruled unanimously in HUSTLER’s favor, establishing a First Amendment precedent and vastly expanding Americans’ free speech rights.

When Jerry Falwell passed away in 2007, media outlets sought out HUSTLER’s publisher,who declared: “He knew what I was selling, and I knew what he was selling.” Flynt sells sex and irreverence—but what exactly was the Reverend Falwell selling?

If religion is “the opiate of the masses,” Falwell’s theocratic toxic brew, which mixed old-time religion with GOP politics, was the crystal meth of the people. As Senator John McCain (R-Arizona) once observed, the polarizing preacher was “an agent of intolerance,” demonizing gays, feminists, non-Christians, secularists and others who didn’t share the vicious smear merchant’s twisted creed. Before Falwell enters the Pearly Gates, he has lots of explaining to do:

★ The fundamentalist Christian was a racist who called civil rights “civil wrongs.” According to Media Matters’ Max Blumenthal, “Falwell was a rabid segregationist who railed against the civil rights movement from the pulpit.” After the Supreme Court’s desegregation ruling, Falwell sermonized: “If Chief Justice Warren and his associates…desired to do the Lord’s will…the 1954 decision would never have been made. The facilities should be separate. …[Integration] will destroy our race eventually…[A] pastor friend of mine tells me that a couple of opposite race live…as man and wife.”

★ Falwell called Nobel Peace Prize winner Bishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa “a phony.” During a 1980s visit to that country, Falwell criticized sanctions against the apartheid regime and encouraged followers to buy Krugerrands (South African gold coins).

★ On his Old Time Gospel Hour, Falwell bashed gays as “brute beast…thank God this vile and Satanic system will one day be utterly annihilated.” Falwell also commented, “AIDS is the wrath of God upon homosexuals.” When Ellen Degeneres came out as a lesbian in 1997, Falwell called the comedienne “Ellen Degenerate.” In 1999, Falwell accused purple Teletubby Tinky-Winky of being gay. According to the BBC, Falwell condemned South Park as “vile and impudent.”

★ In Falwell’s book Listen, America! he decried, “The Jews…are spiritually blind and desperately in need of their Messiah and Savior.” At a 1999 evangelical conference, Falwell announced that the Antichrist was alive, male and Jewish.

★In a Bicentennial sermon, Falwell proclaimed, “The idea that religion and politics don’t mix was invented by the devil to keep Christians from running their own country.”

★Falwell’s most outrageous comment was made on September 11, 2001: “[T]he pagans…abortionists…feminists…and gays… the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America— I point the finger in their face and say, ‘You helped [9/11] happen.’”

In Finding Inner Peace and Strength, Falwell boldly pontificated: “The Bible is …absolutely infallible, without error in all matters.” But the outspoken and biased preacher was highly selective in his scriptural interpretations. Although the Ten Commandments stipulate “Thou shalt not kill,” Falwell didn’t oppose capital punishment or the Iraq War. Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace, never preached about homosexuality, abortion or Republicans, for that matter. But he often spoke about the poor, calling them “the salt of the Earth…the light of the world.”

Falwell’s intolerant brand of Christianity was hate-filled. Where in it was the compassionate Christ who rhapsodized so eloquently in the New Testament’s 1 Corinthians? “I may be able to speak the languages of men and even angels,” Jesus cautioned, “but if I have no love, my speech is no more than a noisy gong or a bell. I may have the gift of inspired preaching…I may have all the faith needed to move mountains, but if I have no love, I am nothing.”

Like all fearmongering, hate-spewing, Bible-thumping blowhards, Jerry Falwell was an egregiously noisy gong.


February 14th, 2008


Hillary Scott with Hustler MagazineHILLARY SCOTT—who has starred in Sex-Z Pictures’ Corruption, HUSTLER Video’s Britney Rears 3: Britney Gets Shafted! and a truckload of other hard-core flicks—is a massively popular fuck princess.

The doll currently possesses the coveted AVN Female Performer of the Year award, but she gained even more renown when Sex-Z reportedly signed her to the industry’s first $1-million exclusive contract. So what is porn’s new millionaire like when she’s off duty? Scheduling time with the much-in-demand damsel is no easy task, especially when the request is made by a stinky, coked-out reporter.

The idea was to tag along with Hillary all day and chronicle my findings, good or bad. She is, however, a consummate good sport, and when we finally lock down our rendezvous on a Sunday afternoon, she’s not put off by my presence or the overcast sky.

Hillary, who hails from Chicago, is waiting outside her apartment building on Reseda Boulevard, a main drag in L.A.’s
San Fernando Valley, where most adultindustry companies are headquartered. Still suffering the consequences of my late-night party antics, I pull up a little behind schedule in my truck.

Apparently, my dour expression doesn’t dampen Hillary’s enthusias mat having a companion for her inauspicious chores. “The focal point of the day is scoring a bag of weed,” the casually dressed vixen informs me as I suck on a Marlboro. “But my guy won’t be around for an hour or so, so I think a quick trip to the supermarket will eat some time until then. Plus, there’s nothing worse than being wasted without food around, right?”

“I guess so,” I shoot back as we drive off. “But with my habits, eating isn’t really part of the endeavor.”

“You’re doing the wrong drugs, Fayner,” my sexy passenger snaps. “I can’t imagine any drug that doesn’t lean towards the eating of Honey Nut Cheerios being an enjoyable ride, but that’s just me.”

Hillary Scott with Hustler MagazineI was planning a whole speech about how I refuse to be dissected by a 23-year-old chick paid to be sexually vicious on film. However, after we arrive at our destination, Hillary hops out and bolts toward the supermarket’s shopping carts, commandeering one like it’s some scene out of Jackass.

“Weee! Weee!” she hollers as her cart wobbles into the store. I follow.

Hillary immediately ventures toward the scary depths of the produce section. “I bet your readers want to see me holding a big cucumber!” she howls. “Can we do that first? Please?”

“Listen,” I brusquely inform her, “this is supposed to be about what you do on a day off. I’m just an observer. Pretend I’m not here.”

Hillary Scott with Hustler Magazine“Then I’m not deep-throating any green veggies! It’s pointless without an audience!”

“Do it for that young Latino over there refilling the apple bin,” I suggest. “He looks like he needs some enjoyment.”

But Hillary is over it. She steers her crippled cart into a vacant aisle, where she ditches it for a basket. “I’m not stoned right now, and foodshopping is only fun when you’re high and panting over everything you lay your eyes on,” she remarks. “We’re doing the expressshopping thing today, if that’s okay with you.”

And before I can remind her of my role, she coos, “Oh, that’s right. You’re not here.” Enough time wasted, and junk food aplenty, we evacuate the premises to make our way to the porn star’s reefer vendor. “I told him you were tagging along,” Hillary chirps.

“Said you wouldn’t bring your camera with us when we go in. That’s cool, right?”

“C’mon, darling, do you really think I’m not well-versed in the paranoid ways of the drug dealer? I know the drill.”

Hillary Scott with Hustler MagazineBut as we start heading to our parking spot, Hillary’s urge for cannabis is suddenly sidelined by a coin-operated motorcycle ride meant for children. I’m forced to fork over two quarters, sit back and watch her ride the silly contraption. “Hey,” she screams, “even on my day off I need to ride an animal, right?! Weee! Weee!”

The dealer’s apartment is cluttered with chewed-up remnants of toys belonging to his Rottweiler. Sampson (whose name has been changed for obvious reasons) gets a whiff of me, thinks that because I smell like someone who sleeps with three dogs in my bed that I too am a dog—a female at that. Unless he’s a fag hound. But in either case, he becomes dedicated to feeding me his red rocket. I’m petrified.

“Geez, Fayner, I can’t seem to take you anywhere without some horny dog trying to sexually assault you,” Hillary blurts out as a huge cloud of pot smoke exits her overworked mouth, filling the room. “I can guess by Sampson’s gaze that we have limited time before he overpowers you and fucks your skinny ass!” Turning her attention to the dealer, she pipes, “Okay, give me a blowjobscene’s worth of the best stuff you got.”

“How much is that?” Hillary’s puzzled pusher answers. “Oh, sorry, I forgot you’re not in the business,” the lovely pothead apologizes. “Five hundred or so, I guess.” She pulls a wad of crisp bills out of her purse, then notices me gawking at the cashola from the kitchen area I had escaped to when Sampson tried to hump my face.

“Yeah, I know,” Hillary declares. “It’s a lot of money. I’ve been telling my ass to slow down, you know, take a breather, but it just wants to work. Who am I to complain?”

“Where to now?” I ask as we climb back into my ride. “A quick stop to grab the new High Times magazine,” Hillary replies, “then back to my place so you can watch me straighten up and answer some fan e-mails. Is that okay? I mean…just drive and don’t ask any more questions!”

The newsstand has run out of the current issue of High Times, but before we split, I insist on documenting this failed mission by having Hillary pose with a couple of the most unlikely publications a famous porn star would ever be seen reading. My choice— the one decision I make all day—is In-Fisherman. Hers is Combat Handguns. The hombre manning the stand asks us to buy something or leave. We’re out of there.

Hillary’s apartment is the archetypical adult performer’s abode: stacks of porn DVDs next to piles of work outfits next to shelves of well-used bongs. Hillary grabs one and brings it over to the sofa on which I’m kicking back.

“Your story’s about a day I’m not on the movie set, right?” she asks. “Well, here it is!”

Hillary Scott with Hustler MagazineHillary loads the water pipe with her fresh sack of Mary Jane and pulls a huge hit, exhales a “sickeningly sweet” puff of smoke, then collapses back into the couch. “People think we live this glamorous life as porno stars. Well, glamorous may be the wrong word.”

“How ’bout debauched ?” I offer. “Perfect! But most of us are laid-back homebodies, you know? The whole stay-in-on-
Saturday-night-watching-rented-DVDs thing is alive and well and kickin’ it in Porn Valley!”

“Are you saying the porno stable is just a slew of lame ducks?” I ask.

“Sorta,” Hillary continues. “I mean, sure, I go out and party. We all do to some point, but making movies takes a lot out of me, and just because I fuck on camera doesn’t make me any different from everyone else when the day is done. To live a decadent lifestyle all the time is just flirting with disaster. I mean, just look what’s become of your life!”

“Very funny,” I fire back. Hillary’s young daughter lives elsewhere, and the MILF appears to be flying solo, minus an offscreen partner and active social life. As the contract girl earns her daily bread sucking and fucking onscreen, she might not want to bring her work home with her.

Hillary Scott with Hustler MagazineTo liven things up, I remind Hillary, “Hey, don’t you have some cleaning or something to do?” By design, porno whores rely on someone else to do the dirty work for them: a boyfriend, manager, some loser trying to get in their pants. But Hillary, I’ve come to gather, is not the typical adult-industry slut. She doesn’t mind doing menial chores, even smiles when I demand she actually sweep the kitchen floor instead of just pretending. Any other XXX babe would have kicked me out at that point.

Not Hillary Scott, however. One would expect different from the best-paid hottie in the biz. When I discover her kitchen sink is without the expected pile of dirty dishes—just two pots!—I brashly take a cereal bowl from the cabinet and spit on it, thus giving her something to do as I shoot some photos. Hillary pushes me aside and washes the bowl with the same enthusiasm she has for her onscreen hijinks.

This spunk is also evident in Hillary’s allegiance to her fans. The next hour consists of me glued to the sofa while the gorgeous filly answers e-mails from admirers around the world. Well, that and periodically passing her the bong so she can remain good and stoned.

Before long it’s dark outside, and I sense from her constant yawning that Hillary has become a bit tired. It appears the hours spent loitering in supermarket isles and smoking weed have zapped the Valley Girl’s superwhore powers. Hillary crawls to the sofa and closes her eyes, silent and pure, transforming the familiar XXX Energizer Fuck Bunny into a soft, delicate, wholesome young woman free of sin. If I hadn’t whacked off so many times to Hillary’s videos, I could easily believe that what I’m seeing is an angel sent from heaven.

Hillary Scott with Hustler Magazine

At this moment, I decide to leave. I don’t bother waking Sleeping Beauty up to say goodbye ’cause I know she’s had a rough day off doing pretty much nothing exceptional. No blowjobs were handed out, no flashlights up her ass. Shit, she never even flashed me her chirpy breasts!

But like I said before, even the sluts who flaunt the limits of their sexual dexterity need a break once in a while. It’s not always exciting, not always dramatic being a porn queen. Still, there’s something to be said about a typical girl doing typical things with her typical life when she just happens to screw while the cameras are rolling.

Scott Fayner’s only joy comes from drugs and his dog, Rhiannon. Born and raised in Massachusetts (the state that gave us the Puritans), the onetime HUSTLER staffer has come to despise the porn business. So it makes perfect sense that he just finished a movie script—a love story—about the very industry he can’t seem to escape. Fayner’s zany musings about the skin trade can be seen erratically at


February 14th, 2008

Real College Girl: Caitlin

Real College Girl - Caitlin

“There was a time I dreamt of being a famous fashion model,” curvy Caitlin Connor remarks, “but I’m not 5-foot-10 and anorexic.” Six inches shorter, eating right and much bolder than she ever imagined, this 18-year-old sophomore at Rhode Island College has come our way. “I’m really excited about being picked,” the perky newcomer gushes. “If I’m good enough to be in HUSTLER, I can do anything!”

Caitlin, a graphic communications major, is certainly cut out to be a skin-biz fave, but that’s not her sole ambition. After earning a B.A. degree, she hopes to land a job in advertising or as a magazine’s art director. (HUSTLER will be eagerly awaiting that application!)

A model student in more ways than one, Caitlin gets “good” grades, doesn’t drink or do drugs and is also proud to admit, “I’m not promiscuous. Actually, I’m very old-fashioned when it comes to sex. I like to be wooed.” And nude!

For other extracurricular “uppers” the unbashful doll has a litany of kicks, from “catching the eye of rockers with tattoos and piercings” to “beating all comers at Mario Kart ” to “eating up ’80s and ’90s TV shows.” Reveals the couch potato, who has a soft spot for Nickelodeon’s Big Ear of Corn, “My all-time fave is Full House. I even designed a fan Web site for the Olsen Twins. It was so cool growing up with them.”

HUSTLER has long been a haven for the uninhibited, but bookworms who love showing skin are a special breed indeed. Coeds: Be a BWOC by sending us some naughty pictures and garner $350 in financial assistance! COEDS: To apply, follow detailed instructions in model release/entry form and indicate Real College Girls on submission envelope.

2257 Compliance


February 14th, 2008

Real College Girl: Danelle 

Real College Girl - Danelle

“I’ve been a stripper in a play,” reveals this theater major at California’s Chapman University, “but I didn’t get to take everything off.”  However, after meeting a shutterbug during a Hawaiian vacation, Danielle Storm, 20—who hails from Monsey, New York—was ready to frolic au naturel for a vast audience.  And the 5-foot-1 sophomore’s script sizzles. “Outside the bedroom I try to be discreet,” the “always-horny” coed confides, “but when I get to play with a guy, I’m wild and crazy.

In polite conversation I’ll call the male organ a penis, but when I’m fucking, I’ll call it a cock! You should also know that I have no taboos. I’ve tried everything, but I most enjoy giving and receiving oral pleasure.” As a thespian, bi-curious Danielle has done A Midsummer Night’s Dream (penned by William Shakespeare, her favorite  playwright but the coquette’s Mr. Right-Now dream is far from Elizabethan: “I want a crowd to watch me being fucked while I’m bent over the handlebars of a motorcycle.”

—Photos by Friend

HUSTLER has long been a haven for the uninhibited, but bookworms who love showing skin are a special breed indeed. Coeds: Be a BWOC by sending us some naughty pictures and garner $350 in financial assistance! COEDS: To apply, follow detailed instructions in model release/entry form and indicate Real College Girls on submission envelope.

2257 Compliance