There was once a porn agent from LA

who said you’d only get work if you did A

so you could sit on your butt or get fucked in it

which of course really sucked if it only paid shit

but either way he gets his cut off your butt on pay day

The last straw wasn’t when the boyfriend found out that you did the boy/girl fuck scenes without telling him. He got over that as quick as the next week’s hotel bill being due. The last straw wasn’t even when he drunkenly got pissed off and mean as a fucking snake with a nail through its tail either; he took the swing at you that left a bruise but that wasn’t the last straw either, even when you had to make an excuse for the mark. Saying that it happened on a fetish shoot yesterday got the director off your back even though he grumbled about having to deal with extra time in make-up to hide it and time is money. You could even forgive him for smoking the last bit of weed or doing the last line of that crystal that burned like a motherfucker.

Nope, all that was bad but the problem came down to the fact that you were doing all the work. He did jack shit because after a while the pick your dick up meds stops working no matter how many you pop. When the guy can’t get his dick hard and can’t get any real work and is just jerking off for $50 bucks  a pop in a gang bang that just wasn’t going to pay the bills, buy the drugs, or even purchase a ticket to get the bus home. At this point, it wouldn’t be so much breaking up as it would be firing his lazy ass and kicking him to the curb so you could make some real cash without him holding you back.

At this point you would be willing to do more anal scenes, as long as the money is good, and there are a few directors out there that said to let them know when you were willing to take some cock – besides the dick of that dickhead ex-boyfriend that couldn’t get his dick hard – up your asshole. Once those options ran dry then a change of hair color and a new stage name would be the way to go. Rebooting the career might be just the thing to do under the circumstances.

The first effort at making a sexy homemade sex tape goes something like this:

There is a rush of excitement; even figuring out where and how to set up the camera feels like foreplay. Looking through the view finder they see themselves, detached yet absorbed; standing and looking through the camera makes them voyeurs as they watch themselves acting in ways that brings out something completely different, unleashed hidden desires previously restrained, making them strangers to themselves. The friction of cool anticipation rubbing against hot desire gives the moment a spark of mischief and ignites passions normally cached deep within the imagination, behind the senses, and in the sensual and carnal place where the libido sits like a cat with a tail twitching. The camera is a faceless and passive observer, capturing a moment of private lust, perfect sexuality, sex for the sake of sex, horny, fucking freestyle fucking for the sake of fuckity-fuck-fucking.  They become someone else, something else, the way putting on a mask at Halloween permits a secret side to cavort publicly, showing off for the nameless and faceless folks they imagine will soon be watching their homemade sex video.

Producing. Directing. Starring in their own amateur fuck film, the moment takes them to a place where they can act out fantasies and make them reality. She never wanted a shower of cum in her face before. Now she begs for it like a superstar, a diva with precious demands for a sparkling pearl necklace of shiny hot cum, Gloria Swanson telling Cecil B DeMille she is ready for her close up. She wants him to pull his hard cock out of her wet mouth. She wants to grab his dick and jack it off to catch it all… so the camera can catch it all.

But one hitch.

When they replay the action back to see what happened they realize that the camera didn’t move. Sitting on the tripod like crutches, the camera couldn’t follow the action when they bounced off the ceiling and fell off the bed as the flames of passion sent them running and screwing each other from one end of the bedroom to the other. Too bad, that would have been some amazing action to capture. How is a company like Homegrown going to pay money if there is no money shot?

Oh well. No harm trying again. In fact, they are looking forward to it.

This story has been told a thousand times. Usually the names have been changed to protect the not so innocent. But you can recognize it, regardless, because the name is not nowhere near so important as the story. There is a version of Cinderella from every culture. The story is universal no matter what name she goes by – people will always recognize the story of a princess cast down as a waif, forced to suffer great humility and eat a ton and a half of shitburgers, then finally being discovered and saved by a prince who of course takes her away to get a new pair of shoes in a boutique called Happily-Ever-After in a place close to Disneyland.

This is that story but it is the porn version of it. Does that mean there will be ass fucking and facial cumshots? Of course!

Our tale begins in a little wood paneled bed room, somewhere in the heartland of America, where a camera light has just come on to signal recording has begun. The couple on the bed is sort of naked, a little bit tipsy from the couple glasses of wine they used to fuel the fire of lust… or drown out the nervous and final doubts about what they are going to do, making a homemade sex tape. Not just an amateur porn for themselves alone to know and watch privately and keep a secret, now the plan is to take the video and send it to a company like Homegrown Video…

(tbc)

The first stage of shooting an amateur porn video is a long and winding road to actually making a homemade sex tape. “Do you want to do it?” “Yes.” “Are you sure?” “Maybe…” “What if your mom sees me fucking you in the asshole then blasting a hot load of cum on your face?” “Good question.” “Maybe we should think about it some more…” “Yes, for sure, but it still could be fun…”

All that negotiation what to do, and excitement about what risks there are doing it, and planning for where to do it build a great deal of anticipation and enthusiasm. Then you make your first amateur sex video, it is a blast, but then you look at it afterwards and go, “well I wish we had done this or that better.” That is the end of stage one.

Stage two is making your next sex tape. Now you have an idea what shots you missed. You have a clue about where to put the camera to make it easier. And, of course, you are horny as hell because you know that sex on video is not run of the mill Saturday night and a six pack style sex, it is wild show off your freaky side sex because you know it is a chance to channel your inner porn star funky get down and boogie hardcore fucking sex type sex. Now when you review the hot fucking action that is a mindblowingly wild over the top and run through the jungle of crazy carnality video ode to the wonders of fantastic sex, you think, “We look good. We look really good. I think we could make some money doing this because people would definitely get off watching this!” Then you proceed to stage three…

Stage three is when you start contacting companies like Homegrown Video and seeing if they will buy your amateur porn footage. You show it off probably for the first time to someone besides yourselves. Now you are nervous. Will it make the grade and be the million seller blockbuster cockbuster that you knew it could be. Or will the cat walking across the bed when you were painting her face with cum be a distraction from the intimacy and dramatic  intrigue of the moment?

So you break through to stage four, here you begin to hone your production skills, your business sense, and you branch out to find more places to sell your amateur sex videos, and the prices go up, and the sexual boundaries are expanded. Maybe new fellow sex fiends are found to participate, or maybe you try sex acts like anal out to give the videos extra bang, bang, fuck, fuck. Now you are banging out scenes like crazy, but one problem, now it is a job and everyone knows that jobs have some good days and some bad days but at the end of any of those days one might echo that bumper sticker sentiment, “A bad day of golf, fishing, bowling, whatever is better than a good day of work”. Unfortunately now you are in for a penny, in for a pounding, and you have to go on but some of the fun is gone because now it is just another hard day at the orifice. Welcome to being a porn professional! Now go out and get the job done! There are horny people out there that need to jerk off…

1. Snorkeling… a woman positions a snorkel in her pussy and queefs into it as the recipient on the other end breaths it in.
2. Goat – a man grows a goatee and wears a pair of short horns and pretends to be a goat using his facial hair as a tickling utensil upon the asshole before he mounts from behind, mostly associated with devil worshipping Satanic cults
3. Twiddle pee pee – a pair of lovers dresses to look exactly the same as each other and then rip each others clothes off and ass fuck like they just invented porn until their assholes feel busted then finish things off by urinating on one another. Note, there is a variation on this in gay male community called “Sambo” where two Caucasians don blackface and compliment each other by  ”jive talking” on their respective penis size before engaging in sex.
4. Lint brushing – Licking the lint from belly buttons and in the extreme… the toilet paper balls off the butthole
5. Homegroaning – You make an amateur porn video for Homegrown and get paid for it then become obsessed with making more!

The phrase “flying anal” refers to an award nominated sex scene in the Homegrown Video release “Sex For Life”. In the scene, Tim Lake performs an anal sex scene with starlet Jeanna Fine. Flying Anal refers to a point in the action when it appears that Lake is actually levitating and hovering above Ms. Fine’s ass connected only by his erect penis as it penetrates her butt hole enthusiastically.

Not many are willing to attempt such a physically demanding and acrobatically challenging sexual feat, which is described in the Kama Sutra as the “Crane hoisting the Elephant by the Tail Hair of the Ass” position and is recommended only for Yogi’s with supreme mastery of their physical being and an intense focus of their lifeforce energies. Several notable erotic artistes have attempted the Flying Anal but most have failed, sometimes in tragic circumstances. It is rumored that Houdini actually died from attempting the position with a notorious Parisian prostitute named Janelle D’Longpret but that the incident was concealed to preserve his dignity and direct the attentions of detectives away from the matter before it scandalized society.

Caution is advised for anyone trying to attempt the feat without proper training, diet, and the will to do perilous things for orgasmic fulfillment and satisfaction.

I opened the door to Ing’s and bathroom nonchalantly, trying to downplay even the remotest possibility of any potential horror awaiting on the other side. I looked back with a shrug, “What could possibly be so bad?”

Spark knew. “You have to see it for yourself.” He said as if I might be walking into a room where someone just got hacked into bloody bits.

Then I saw it with my own eyes.

It could could have been a twisted prank. Some dadaist art piece designed to instigate disgust and provoke a riot. Or special effects from a horror movie made real  and therefore infinitely more disgusting. The bathtub. It looked like it was alive, crawling… hairy. From the hot water a steamy cloud thick with a stench of body odor and scented putrid soap scum hung in the air. The bathtub was thick with Ron Jeremy’s body hair, short, thick curly black hairs that clung to the sides of the tub with greasy suds drying to a hard fuzz lined it end to end. The puddled remnants of water that could not pass down the choked drain was grey with a dirty film. It rippled at one end trying to find a way down and out drop at a time.

Renting an apartment or house out for a location one is always taking a huge risk. The bored production minions, the apathetic actors, the selfishly arrogant directors and producers that are too busy trying to get their shots couldn’t care less. As far as they are all concerning, that space is theirs to do as they wish for the duration of the shoot. They own it.  They don’t care if they break the vase, flick burning ashes on the oriental rug, rip the upholstery moving the furniture into a stack in the corner. In mainstream or in porn, it is all the same regardless but ALL of those things would have been easier to handle than the devastation of Ron’s bath.

Ing stood behind me gently sobbing, demanding a new bathtub. “How am I going to clean that?” She wanted to know and I honestly was at a loss for any suggestion. Some sort of incendiary device would be too dangerous. Chemicals too noxious. It would require a complete hazardous waste disposal team to secure the premises and begin a toxic waste disposal process. Chances were good that Dupont hadn’t yet come up with a solvent that would break down such a biohazard as Ron Jeremy’s hairy soap scum.

I didn’t have the heart to warn her that we were probably going to find used anal sex condoms under the couch too when the Vivid shoot was finally wrapped.

Don't look under the couch...

I ran into the courtyard between my studio and Ing and Sparks. The screams stopped. I had to check myself. Were those screams the sounds of someone shooting her anal sex scene for the Vivid shoot going on in both our respective lofts?  I have heard a few porn stars in my day that were hard to tell if they were enjoying themselves to the outermost limits of pleasure and beyond, I mean – at least until the cameras stopped rolling. If you couldn’t see them then you might wonder if they were fending off an attack from a deranged fan/abusive boyfriend/fiendish serial killer. But this was not that sort of scream…

I paused to listen more closely. Since there was a possibility that an anal sex scene was indeed being shot, I would only be a problematic distraction if I burst through the doors and tried to save whomever was screeching so vehemently because a huge cock was possibly cracking her ass in two. Now breaking down the “4th wall” – the imaginary wall that separates the stage from the audience, doesn’t only happen when the actors speak directly to the audience, from the inside, out. Breaking down the 4th wall can also occur from the outside in, when the audience intrudes on the stage, usually unwittingly. In fact, this can be a problem in most of Los Angeles, where reality and fantasy can intermingle on any given day wherever a film is in production, and it happens all the time. But, on a porn shoot if it happens then you tend to feel a bit more awkward.

Sure, in both cases, the director is going to scream at you and yell to get off the set. On the porn shoot though, the stud might lose his edge and have a tough time regaining his… composure… so to speak. So I listened more closely, the quiet actually kind of disquieting.

Then I could faintly hear sobbing. Time to finish donning the superhero mantle and figure out what the fuck was up.

Ing wasn’t from that part of California, the Valley, the part where all your neighbors worked in film and television productions and moonlighted as porn set hands and had friends and friends of friends that all earned a few bucks on the side renting out to porn companies looking for places to shoot one-day-wonders. She was from the part of southern California where the neighbors were the ones everyone hoped would hire them for their next project so that they wouldn’t have to moonlight on porn sets anymore and risk getting outed to the Union.

From the softer sands of Malibu, a place where the green blue sea soothes the savage and sometimes heartless soul of Life in Los Angeles, Ing came from the whitest white Christian purity whiter than the walls of Pepperdine. She was innocence and cordiality, grace and refinement. She is the kind of gentle soft soul that should be kept a million miles away from things like cum gurgling and anal lube bubbles.

But having Vivid shoot a porn in her studio kind of made that impossible, now here she was practically catatonic. Still, she was coherent enough to say that she was going to be fine. She was going to make it through. Never again. But she was going to make it through. Rent had to be paid and at least the rental would cover it in a single day. A day of hell, but just one day of hell.

She left our loft to go back and check on her bathroom after Ron’s bath. Ron Jeremy was finally out after what seemed like hours that had no beginning water running or ending of its draining.

Shortly after is when we heard the screams.