Private Parts (40 page)

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Authors: Howard Stern

Tags: #General, #Autobiography, #Biography, #Biography & Autobiography, #Entertainment & Performing Arts, #United States, #USA, #Spanish, #Anecdotes, #American Satire And Humor, #Thomas, #Biography: film, #Entertainment & Performing Arts - General, #Disc jockeys, #Biography: arts & entertainment, #Radio broadcasters, #Radio broadcasting, #Biography: The Arts, #television & music, #Television, #Study guides, #Mann, #Celebrities, #Radio, #Entertainment & Performing Arts - Television Personalities

BOOK: Private Parts
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"It's really weird, Robin, during the whole thing with all those girls taking their clothes off, I was not really that turned on, believe it or not, because I love my wife," I said.

"Why lie to
me,
Howard?" Robin asked.

"Ssshh. Alison just called up and she won't even go on the air with me," I said. Alison had sounded really pissed. "I just wanted to test myself. I wanted to see three naked women to see if I was really in love with my wife."

"You had some question?" Robin was ruining everything.

"There was just one little iota of doubt. Every once in a while, a man questions himself. And as I'm looking at all these naked girls, I'm saying, 'I love my wife. My wife has a beautiful body. She's my friend, she's my lover, she's my confidante.'" Was anyone buying this bullshit? Just in case they weren't, I added, "This is proof positive that I love my wife more than anything in the world. And I can look at
more
naked women and not be turned on."

But looking was soon not enough. Like a desperate junkie, I had to seek new highs. I started spanking women on the air.

Girls would let me undress them. First I'd pull down their pants; eventually I'd remove their panties. They'd get over my knee, arch their back, and I would make them ask for a spanking. As I slapped, I made them ask me for more. "You've been a bad girl, haven't you?"

"Yes," they'd eventually reply.

Then they would ask me to spank them harder.

"Are you sure you want this? Is this what you really want?"

"Yes," they would moan.

I even spanked Jack Nicholson's
Playboy
centerfold girlfriend, Karen Mayo-Chandler, after he had done the very same thing.

Then it got kinkier and kinkier. I invited guys to come in and spank their wives in front of me, then it was girls spanking other girls. I was slowly running out of perverted things to do.

Enter Tula, the transsexual, fresh from the Donahue show. She was so voluptuous she'd fooled the James Bond movie producers, who featured her as one of the Bond girls. I've got to admit that for a guy without a penis, she was pretty good-looking.

"Hey, Tula, pull down your panties. I want to see how real your phony vagina looks. That's not real private parts. That's a surgical

scar with a scab on it."

"Oh, yeah, you couldn't tell the difference," she said in her deep voice.

"I sure could. Pull down your panties. Let me examine you. It can't smell very good because it can't clean itself. There must be deposits in there from everyone since the James Bond movie."

I really pissed her off. She came over to my side.

"Take off your pants first," she said. "Let me see what you've got."

"I don't have any problem with that. You're a guy." I stood there in my underpants and she grabbed my balls and cock with those big manly mitts of hers. Some things a doctor can't change.

I popped the biggest fucking boner. Some guys really know how to handle the goods. She was a pro.

After a seductive struggle, which I lost, Tula refused to show me her man-made vagina. My guess is the whole damn mess looks like one giant scab. She stripped down to her panties and I've got to admit, the confused fucker looked good.

After the thrill of spanking transsexuals and lesbians wore off, I turned to shaving. We asked female listeners to come in and shave in front of me. A few times we even offered them free concert tickets to shave. One time we got a married woman to come up and shave herself. Her name was Maria and her husband was a big fan of mine. She was really cute. Brown hair. Big jugs. When she entered the studio, we started playing "Happy Days Are Here Again." Over Fred's sound effects of an electric razor, I started singing:

Lather up your hairy lap

Don't you listen to all that other crap

When Howard's on no one takes a nap

Lather up that hairy lap

Happy days are here again


The transsexuals, Tula and

Howiener (me), exchanging

shaving tips.

She didn't like Jackie and Fred being there so I kicked them right out. Robin wanted to leave, too, but I forced her to stay, although we arranged Maria's chair so Robin couldn't see what was going on.

Maria lathered up and started to shave. We needed a bowl of hot water to rinse her razor off so we grabbed Jackie's cereal bowl. We're always using Jackie's bowl or coffee mug for some skeevy scam, but he doesn't care. Jackie's one of those guys who uses the same mug every day without rinsing it out. It's always full of stains, spit and piss. Then he mixes his tea with a fucking pencil. It's disgusting.

Me, I only drink from paper cups, I'm so terrified of germs. This guy is healthy as a horse and I'm the one who's always getting sick.

So this girl was shaving her fucking disgusting pubic hairs all over his cereal bowl and he ate from it the next day. I wanted to vomit. I hope he enjoyed his
Lice
Krispies.

Maria stood there naked with her thighs spread, shaking with nervousness. When she finished I asked her if she wanted to be spanked. She lay down across my lap.

"First of all, your behind is gorgeous," I said, inspecting the merchandise. She was shaking more. "What are you uptight about?"

"Nothing," Maria said.

"This is your fantasy, right? Okay, say, 'Howard, my master, please spank me.'"

She repeated after me. I spanked her and she began to laugh.

"You could do it a little harder," she said.

"You getting excited?" I asked.


I do all-male burlesque with Gary, Jackie,
and Fred (left). Audience members at a live

club appearance bobbing for tampons.

"I listen to him and I have to turn it off. It gets so foul. He talks about smelling underwear and he's got the bobbing for tampons. It grosses you out."
-- Gary Collins

"Yes," she sighed.

I gave her a few more whacks and released her.

"This was a great show. We can go home now," I pronounced.

"All the hair is gone?" Robin wondered.

"Everything," I said. "It's all in Jackie's cereal bowl"

Stripping, spanking, shaving -- the possibilities were endless. We competed with each other to figure out new ways of getting women to get out of their clothes and new things to do to them once they were in the buff.

For some reason our supply of women started drying up. We hadn't had a naked woman in a week. That's when I had a brainstorm. A very dim light went on in my head.

One day we had two phone sex girls up to give a demonstration of their craft. When we found out that one of them was actually a nude model for art students, we saw great potential there. We chipped in and paid her to model nude for us while we drew her.

Jackie, Fred, Gary, and I would become artists. So I bought easels, paints, and berets. Yes, we wore berets on the radio with our headphones on and I put a call out on the radio for girls to come down to model nude for us. They came in droves. After all, this was a legitimate


My drawing . .. Fred's attempt. ..

venture. There was nothing
vile
about it.


Leonardo da Jackie...and Gary's worthless piece of shit.

We brought in a model who was posing with her right arm in the air like a Michelangelo sculpture. Jackie, Fred, and I really tried to capture the beautiful flow. In our sketches you could see that we really tried to draw her. Gary just stood there staring at the girl. When we saw his drawing we burst out laughing. He just wanted to gape at this naked woman and paid no attention to his art. Her stupid arm isn't even up in the air. And check out the pubic bush and wishbone tits. Nice shoulders. Where the hell are her hands? Talk about pencil necks! And what's with that expression on her face? But he did spend a lot of time on his rather feminine and intricate signature. That smelly bastard. We haven't had another nude model since. He blew the whole thing.

Drawing led to painting and soon enough we were having naked girls up every St. Patrick's Day so we could paint their breasts green. Paint was always applied with little cotton balls that allowed me to feel up my studio guests without actually cheating on my wife. (I walk a fine line.)

We even began subtle little games among ourselves, games the audience had no knowledge of. I devised a shoe trick that benefited

Jackie, Fred, and Gary. Whenever a woman came in wearing a miniskirt, I would compliment her on her shoes.

"Wow, I love high heels," I'd say. "Can I see those shoes?"

The unsuspecting female would swivel her chair and stick her shoe up on the console, so I could examine it. Meanwhile, Jackie, Fred, and Gary looked right up her dress. Every girl fell for the shoe trick. The guys got to see Tori Spelling's underwear that way.

Tori was just the beginning. Our next conquest was the famous porn star Ginger Lynn. I got to spank

her, but it wasn't easy. Ginger was dating Charlie Sheen at the time, and at first she didn't even want to take off her clothes. But I went into my patented "Stern Whining" and a few minutes later she was buck naked and lying across my lap. I gave her a nice spanking. She had one of the most incredible bodies I had ever seen. It was a real turn-on.

"Oh, my God, Charlie's going to be so upset," Ginger worried. "I'll tell him that it was only the radio, I wasn't really naked and getting spanked." But she was naked and she did get spanked and I didn't think Charlie was going to buy that bullshit. A few weeks later, Gary tried to book Charlie Sheen for our TV show and we heard that he was furious and he wanted to beat the shit out of me because I had his girlfriend naked over my lap. As if it was my fault. This is a girl who's fucked everything that breathes in her porno movies and he was mad at
me.

But I find it much more exciting to see regular actresses nude than X-rated stars. That's why when I get a regular movie star up in the studio and there's any chance of any action, I take out all my artillery. I tell her that my wife is dying of cancer. In fact, when I had Margaux Hemingway up, I told her that Alison had already died. We were flirting like crazy and it looked as if something might happen.

"I think about what I'd do to you," I moaned.


Even with my fat belly hanging out, I was seductive in my Burt Lancaster role with MTV's Martha Quinn in a scene from
From
Here to Eternity.

"She's tall enough for you," Robin said.

"We're a good-looking couple," Margaux agreed.

"We could do things standing up," I suggested. "If my wife is listening, I know you're up there in heaven somewhere, honey. Just close your ears because I'm ready to get back in the saddle. I've got to get back to it. I lost Alison but I've got to get back on that horse and ride. Are you free for lunch?"

She wasn't. Bitch.

Sometimes I have to depend on Alison to stop things in the nick of time. One time I had Kimberly Taylor the
Penthouse
pet on. I wanted her to get naked for me, but she wouldn't.

"Howard, show me your penis, then I'll get naked," she insisted.

She knew I'd never show anyone my small penis because of how uptight I am about its size. But since I was nursing a hard-on, my penis looked kind of big. So I didn't really care if she saw my penis. I pulled my underpants open and let her look down.

"I can't see anything. OKAY, NOW I CAN SEE IT! HE'S HIDING IT BETWEEN HIS LEGS!" she screamed.

Here I thought my penis was so full but she couldn't even see it. How humiliating!

She kept screaming, "WHERE IS IT?! I CAN'T SEE IT!"

Stuttering John ran into the room. "Alison's on the phone."

"Honey, she didn't see anything," I assured Alison.

"What are you doing, Howard? STOP IT!" Alison said.

Alison is like the guards at Buckingham Palace about my penis. She loves it and guards it like the crown jewels.

"Here's what happened, honey. Kim took off her top and I took off my pants, but you didn't see much, did you Kim?"

"I saw a pubic hair," Kimberly said.

"Howard, if you don't want to stay married, keep cheating,"
Alison piped in.

"I'm bringing Kimberly home for us, honey. We have a new housekeeper."

"I don't believe this, every day. It's getting boring already," Alison said.

"What kind of wife are you? You let me keep doing this stuff," I said.

"You want a nice weekend? Keep your clothes on," Alison warned and hung up.

But the one woman who strained my marriage vows to the fullest was Stacy Galina, from "Knots Landing." We had her on my TV show and we did a parody of
Dirty Dancing
called Sterny Dancing. During the dirty dancing scene, she tried to kiss me but I turned my head away. Then after we finished shooting, she followed me into my inner dressing room. In the full two years of that show, no one had pursued me that far. Robin, Jackie, Dan Forman, everybody lined up with their ears pressed to the door to hear what we were doing in there.

I thanked Stacy for being on the show. She told me that she was going to be in New York staying at her grandmother's house all weekend with nothing to do. It was a tempting offer but I was good and went home to Long Island. It was a really bad weekend. I had to masturbate three times to stay a family man. That week, Stacy was scheduled to be a guest on my radio show. "I was thinking about you the whole weekend," she said. "You're so cute. You must have tons of guys coming on to you," I said. "No," she said.

"Believe me, if I was single, we would have had some blast this weekend. I had to go home and masturbate three times the other night. I was mad at everyone because I wanted to have sex with you, Stacy. If I was single I would have done you and your grandmother.


Actress Stacy Galina shows

me her beautiful ass cheeks,
a rare public display.

Do you ever wear a thong?" I asked.

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