Kitten Natividad has some of the most infamous boobs in the history of Hollywood. Perhaps best known for her 44-inch chest and her ability to cum while doing a striptease, Kitten is one of Russ Meyer’s legendary ultra-vixens and his former girlfriend. And for realzies, you know your tits are some of the best in the world if Meyer—the supreme auteur of sexploitation flicks—is your main squeeze for 15 years.
Kitten was born in 1948 in Juarez, Mexico. Following a sketchy Tijuana boob job at 21, she moved to LA and worked as a go-go dancer. Her career as a stripper led her to Meyer, who cast her in films such as Up! and Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens.
Kitten’s aggressive sexual prowess has cemented her reputation as one of the most influential women in cult erotica. Some of her many naked achievements include: stripping at Sean Penn’s bachelor party before his marriage to Madonna, becoming a queen of burlesque, acting in a bunch of (questionable) 80s porn movies, and starring in Eroticise—quite possibly the trashiest, most ridiculous workout video ever made. Sadly, in 1999 Kitten was diagnosed with breast cancer and underwent a double mastectomy. However, she has since gotten new boobs (again) and says, “Any guy who says he doesn’t like a pair of plastic tits can go fuck himself.” You said it, Kitten!
What was Hollywood like in the 70s? Watching films from that time make it seem like it was a totally different deal back then.
Kitten Natividad: It was fucking fabulous. Everybody did cocaine and lots of drugs—you’d go to a party and you could smell the amyl nitrite in the air like dirty socks. And lots of orgies. That was the time before AIDS, so it was very open.
How did you meet Russ Meyer?
I was introduced to him by my friend I stripped with, Shari Eubank. She was the star of his film Supervixens. Russ liked to use strippers in his movies because they don’t have issues with running around naked. When he’d get an actress she’d say, “Do I have to be naked? It might be bad for my career, blah blah blah.” And he’d be like, “Fuck this, I’m getting a stripper.”
What was it like working under him? And I mean that in terms of his directing.
It was great, but we fucked during all of our lunch breaks. He was a horny dude, a dirty old man.
Were you in an open relationship?
Oh God, no! He was very jealous—very possessive and controlling—which is why I never married him. He always wanted to be the director—where we ate, what we did, everything. I’d say, “I’m going to visit my mother,” and he’d say, “Why? You’ve got me, you don’t need a mother.”
I read somewhere that you introduced him to anal sex and he didn’t like it.
No, he didn’t, he found it weird. I think some guys get freaked out because they feel like they might be gay. I’d say to him, “Does it make you feel like you’re fucking a guy, is that what’s wrong?” He was pretty white-bread.
Have you boned any other interesting famous people?
I feel bad kissing and telling, although most of them are dead. Um… Tony Curtis, Tom Selleck, who was fabulous in bed, Don Adams… He had a big one.
Why did you get into porn in the 80s?
I got into alcohol, and I was just drunk and didn’t know any better. I needed the money, but I looked terrible. If I was going to do porn, I should have done it when I looked my best. I ruined that shit! But it was part of my journey, so I don’t have any regrets. I did what I did.
Did you enjoy doing it at the time?
It was such hard work! You know, for one hour of tape it takes eight hours of fucking. Who the fuck does that?! It’s painful, and you just want to get it over with, but then you have to get shots from behind and underneath and move the bed and move the camera—just fuck fuck fuck fuck. And by that time the money wasn’t that good and it wasn’t glamorized anymore, so it was just horrible.
After your double mastectomy, did it feel like you lost part of your identity?
Yes! It’s like a singer getting throat cancer—they were taking my moneymakers! The doctors told me, “Everything’s going to be OK—we have to remove them, but you can have reconstruction.” I said, “Then I don’t give a shit, just throw them out the window!”
So they just chucked them out and gave you new ones like a pair of socks or something?
Yes, but I had them made a little bit smaller, because when they get too big they become uncomfortable—like you roll over the wrong way and your elbows pinch them, or you’re walking around and they accidentally knock over a lamp. It’s a pain in the ass.
I hate when that happens. So, the cancer was a result of your Tijuana boob job, right?
Yes they were loose, silicon injections. I didn’t get implants because I didn’t like the way implants looked–like toilet plungers. But I found out later that it was not industrial silicone. It was like gasoline or something, and it rotted my tits! A lot of my friends have gone through the same breast cancer as I have for that reason. But Russ was great and paid for my implants, and paid for me when I had my cancer. He was always there for me. And then when he became an old timer and got Alzheimer’s I took care of him. It was one of those relationships that lasted a lifetime.
So remember the other day when I said some Australian creep paid me $75 for a piece of paper with my spit and cum on it? Well here’s a photo of the letter I sent him. Blogging about this little exchange turned out to be a good idea, as it’s already inspired a few other random creeps to place orders–one from a guy who wants pictures of me in nylon tights and another from a guy who wants a video of me saying his name over and over. Ca-ching! All in a day’s work, huh? So I guess this means I’m an entrepreneur now. Kind of like Jay-Z. Cool… Get in touch with me at Karleyslutever@gmail.com if you want to “do business.”
