Year Released: 1974
Studio: Bijou

Cast: Bill, Dick, Don, others uncredited

Erotic Hands features some of the boldest, most unusual sex material ever recorded on film.

In two parts, the first section is a demonstration of fist-fucking by three bearded, masculine men. The give a performance that has to be seen to be believed. An arm enters a rectum up the bicep. It seems impossible, but it is in good, clear color photography. Variations are also demonstrated, including a man fisting the two others simultaneously. Some sex toys are employed and them masturbate to orgasm.

Part 2 of Erotic Hands is an excellent French film concerned mainly with leather fetishes. Two leathermen make love on a Honda motorcycle using motor oil for lubricant. One man never removes his helmet until the very end at which time he throws back his head and laughs maniacally. A second scene shows debasement and domination as a man in a leather face mask degrades his partner. Included in this bizarre segment is bootlicking, beating, fisting, water play. (We also learn in this film that "fist-fucking" in French is "fist-fucking.")

This vintage gay porn film is very well-made and thoroughly fascinating from start to finish. It is not, however, for the squeamish.

One Bijou reviewer wrote:

Perhaps the title of this dark (both physically and spiritually) phantasmagoric collage should be Mains Erotiques, as the last two scenes are prefaced and concluded by a French narrator in a suit. My French is rusty, despite six years of study, but some of the words I could pick out were "American," "leather," "sadomasochism," "profound," and "unique." Two of the introductions begin with close-ups of his lean hands. Hands usually equals fisting in the movie, but one of the more obscure scenes seems to revel in shots of gloves and long, angular hands.

To be truthful, for most of the movie I was not certain what was actually happening, though some individual images and sounds were enticing, but the movie failed to mesh together as a coherent whole. The cheesy B-movie soundtrack for most of the scenes ended up being a distraction (that strange wind instrument sounds like a cliched UFO landing Cecil B. DeMille used in The Ten Commandments to represent the Angel of Death is here overused ad nauseam), and much of the action was shrouded in gloom.

The first scene is a good-old-boy vintage threesome (close-cut beards, rugged boots) that revels in missionary, slingless fisting that is slow, erotic, and nonbrutal. The action is accompanied by strapping with a belt and the cocksucking is refreshingly intense, especially the bearded bottom. When the third guy enters, one sucks off the bottom while getting fisted. When the Crisco emerges in all its moist, sloppy glory, the strange classical/jazz piano music actually enhances the scene. As the three-way continues with a natural, unconstrained impetus, fucking and fisting occur simultaneously, climaxing in an incredible scene in which the main top fists the two guys at once up to the elbow.

O Crisco-coated arm of power and glory! O belt in the ass.

The cumshots are disappointing, the transition unclear, though one gets a glimpse of some clear drops. The dicks are surprisingly mediocre given the intense level of the action, but the shafts are smooth and the balls firm and cleanly shaved.

The next two scenes are bound together by the French narrator (discussed above), and are essentially attempts to combine "ze art" film with hardcore pornography, mostly unsuccessfully. A helmeted individual wearing skin-tight jeans and loud echoing motorcycle boots (woof!) exits a subway, mounts a motorcycle, and rides to a warehouse. Another helmeted individual (who turns out to be the top in the scene), awaits him on a motorcycle, but the scene is so murky and phantasmagoric that one can't tell what is really happening.

Odd, obscure close-up shots of hands and gloves abound, and when the erotic hand action is over (which seems to be fisting, fucking and cocksucking atop the cycle), the top removes his helmet and emits a high-pitched laugh.

The next scene is more effective, though I did not get the artistic point of the interview with the hooded individual (who eats eggs through the mouth slit in his hood). Postmodern, perhaps? But the hooded person turns out to be a top who, after well-oiling his hand and arm with what looks like motor oil (?!), plunges his fist through the ductile hole of a hungry bottom sporting torn and ripped underwear in a leather playroom setting. He also sports a veiny cock, but, alas, few close-ups. The hungry bottom slobbers over and on and in his hooded master's powercock as he lays back and enjoy the service.

The arrogant hooded master at one point plunges the bottom's head into a tub of water; the choking noises are frightening, and stands over him, wielding the belt. Unfortunately, the lighting darkens obscurely and the frenetic mutual jerk off loses its potential intensity.

After he is apparently satisfied, the camera zooms in on his lips and he emits a melodramatically sinister laugh.