"[Most particularly there was] a tattoed boy, a sailor - ears pierced for rings - his small hard body lay on the bed in the dusky near-dark, the dragon curling upon his belly, the mermaid long on his thigh, the eagle wings touching the collar bone on each side, the nippled eyes staring unwinking through the gloom. In a kind of ecstasy of disbelief at what I saw, almost afraid to touch this designs, I at last ran my tongue along the lenght of the great dragon, beginning low at his tail almost within the bramble patch of pubic hair, and running in bending up-curves towards his right nipple, I sucked the unwinking eyes drawn upon the nipples, and licked the two sharks above his armpits, and then I pointed the arrowhead (on the head of his cock) straight down my throat until he came... and then relaxed, but pleasantly co-operative, he lay on his side and took hold of my cock and gently masturbated me, while my fascinated fingers, hypnotized, fled back and forth over the eagle’s wings, the dragon’s head on his chest and belly. Here, at long last, was the essence of the Sailor, his motions sure and deft. Here was the hand that had knotted the rope and sliced it, the Sailor who knew the far suns and seas, the bamboo huts of savages and the stone lacework of Indian castles, crystal pools and sand of Persia, white columns against dark blue Greek skies, the golden suns and fountains of red-walled Rome. Here was the distillate of the Sailor - dark, romantic, strange, bizarre and sexual under his tattoos, his muscles working to bring me pleasure, his body close curving..."
- Samuel M. Steward, in Justin Spring, SECRET HISTORIAN, THE LIFE AND TIMES OF SAMUEL STEWARD (FSG)
Este trecho admirável de uma carta escrita pelo Samuel Steward ao fotógrafo George Platt Lynes, em Maio de 1954, é a prova de que a literatura erótica (ou pornográfica, dá igual) pode ser isso mesmo, literatura, de que é possível escrever bem sobre sexo. É também a prova de que vinte anos antes de Stonewall nem todos os homossexuais sucumbiam à invisibilidade e ao silêncio do medo e das trevas.