This exploitation flesh feature finds three couples carrying on erotic adventures on board a pleasure-cruising yacht.

Driving through New York City in his Sexmobile, Dr. Harrison Rogers of the Bureau of Sexological Investigation, searches out luminary figures in the world of sex.

Bored with day-to-day life in New York City and neglected by her husband, a young wife and mother slips into increasingly outrageous fantasies: her mother breaking into the apartment, an explorer's demonstration of tribal fertility music at a party causing strange transformations, and joining terrorists to plant explosives in the Statue of Liberty.

A group of Satanic hippies wreak havoc on a small town where a young boy, whose sister and grandfather were victimized by them, tries to get even - with deadly results.

Parents in a small, conservative community don't think that the sex drive is a normal thing for children to experience. So much so, that they label education in that regard as a communist plot. The group of prudes is led by an impotent alcoholic and a gay policeman.

“Before ‘Virgin’, I never put much stock in the idea of a ‘cursed’ production. Take a film like ‘Incubus’. Just cause the director’s nephew died, the production company went belly up, and Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate attended the premiere....Those could all just be coincidences. Shit happens. But with ‘Virgin’, you could just smell the vapor of evil clouding the set. It didn’t help that our chief investor was a ranking member of the Church of Satan. In the end, we tallied three OD’s, a maimed-for-life set designer, bankruptcy, and a car bombing (sort of). Even the film itself disappeared. Not just the prints. The film lab burnt down and we lost the negative. All I’ve got left is the nine minute opening to the main feature and the sound-sync is fucked.” —JXW