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.

bronski!

Ron Jeremy had been in the bath for a while. Since that was the location of the one and only restroom in Spark and Ing’s loft, that meant that our bathroom was now the main spot for the cast and crew to use, making waste, doing drugs, and having hissy fits. There was only so much one could do about it. The more pressing concern was still making sure that wherever the anal sex was being recorded that some measure of precautions were being taken to avoid leftover bio-waste. The place could have burned down as far as I was concerned as long as I could still use my couch without fear of finding a spent condom that had recently been stuffed up some starlet’s eager to get paid butthole.

Ron must have had some serious work to do in the bath. The only being I think that could spend more time in a  tub would have to have been part mermaid.

But Ron is a professional, so when the time came to shoot his part, no pun intended, he was out and ready to roll. Indeed, the strange thing was he still pretty much looked the same and smelled the same. In all honesty I doubt many would have realized that he just spent a couple hours preening and cleaning in a tub which proves that you can take the porn star out of the dirt but you can’t take the dirty out of the porn star.

Ing had been more than patient. Actually, she seemed as though she had taken a couple of xanax or something similar. She had the sort of emotionless patience that someone generally has to be on heavy medication to achieve without the benefit of a Guru. She had made it past the Landlords coming by to ask us to keep it down outside the lofts; porn stars had been commiserating over cigarettes, chatting about partying, anal fucking and cum bubbles, sex with agents, sex with trannies, sex, sex, sex, who has good wood and who doesn’t, and all manner of stuff ordinary folks aren’t accustomed to hearing right outside their trendy LA loft apartments.

Hold on, I guess that is pretty normal in San Fernando.

The time Ron Jeremy spent in the bath seemed to Ing like hours. She was becoming frantic. She couldn’t figure out what was taking so long and it was wearing her down just thinking about it. She looked like she had reached that point beyond where the last tear of worry has been shed and all that is left is a cold, expressionless shock that drained her face of color and froze every trace of emotion.

The Vivid shoot in the meantime was going on swimmingly. Scene after sex scene was wrapped and “in the can”. All the non contract stars would be performing the anal sex while the Vivid contract starlets didn’t have to put their asses on the line, so to speak, but assholes were being properly fucked and that what was selling so that is what had t be shot. The top studs in the industry were delivering the goods, wood lasting through all the camera and lighting changes and the starlets sagging interest when the camera was off.

At the end of a day of shooting multiple anal sex scenes, as one can certainly unfortunately surmise, there is a lingering stench of butt and sweat and cum. To director Paul Thomas, that smell was the smell of victory, the sweet and sour scent of a hard day at the orifice.

A long day, just one more scene to shoot. Someone would have to get Ron out of Ing’s bathroom.

nice clean big boobs!

Ron Jeremy is pretty much of an enigma. The more you know about him and see him in all his apparent contradictions, the deeper the mystery confounds. How could such a guy, who appears to be king of the mooks, be such a porn star? Well, there is that strange ability to orally pleasure himself. He once bet a woman that he could suck his own cock and if he was able then she would have to finish him off. She took one look at his big beer belly, that isn’t a beer belly because he is a teetotaler, and took the bet and proved quite literally that she was not just a sucker but a cocksucker to boot. And go figure, he may look sloppy, but he is not sloppy in the sack… many a porn starlet has marveled at his oral skills, which apparently he learned from another porn legend Nina Hartley.

Then there is that nickname – “The Hedgehog”. Hedgehogs are quiet and prickly little creatures that roll into a ball of spiked quills when provoked. Ground hog would probably have been a better choice since Ron seems to always be sleeping, waking just long enough to find out if it is time for him to fuck, then going back to sleep. Hedgehog is the name that stuck though and I guess it makes sense from the standpoint that he does have an extremely bristly rug of back hair. Still a hedgehog is a quiet little creature, and Ron, at least when he is awake, seems to always be performing shtick as if his life were a stage in a darkly lit comedy club with a row of hecklers for him to pick off one by one with he  New York wit, chewy as a proper bagel and saltier than a street vendor’s pretzel.

But Ron has mysterious skills, talents that make him strangely suited to a career as a male porn star. I am sure he was great as an highly educated intellectual and administrator in the NYC public schools, but being able to count from one to ten and ejaculate on cue was probably not an essential skill in that vocation. In porn, it is the difference between standing around for hours waiting for the “money shot” and actually getting paid. And Ron sincerely loves the idea of getting paid to have sex with so many women, big, small, tall, fat, hot, not, he has done it all. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, he got a bad reputation for having poor personal hygiene. So the notion that he was going to jump into Ing and Sparks bath to clean up for his upcoming scene in Vivid’s “one-day wonder” was a contradiction. Sure he had wicked body odor, but that is just the curse of being as hairy as a werewolf I guess, at least he was respectful and considerate enough to want to bath prior to the upcoming anal sex scene…

I could see Ing wrestling with the idea. Yes, letting Ron Jeremy take a bath in her bathtub would mean that he would be clean at the very least and that meant she could worry a bit less about his body odor destroying her couch, even if she still had to worry about the anal sex scenes being shot on it later in the day. But one stressful thing at a time. She was on the verge of a nervous breakdown as things stood and anything to hold that off was positive. On the other hand, I could tell she was freaking about what would happen to her tub if he soaked down in it.

Ing’s boyfriend Spark walked in. He was munching on a sandwich prepared by the caterer. He couldn’t have come at a better time. On the surface, Spark was about as mellow a dude as ever deserved to be referred to as a “dude”. But woe to whomever crossed his path because underneath his live and let live mellow vibe was a dangerous beast. A lion. And since Ing was essentially paying all their bills it meant that, like the King of Beasts, all he had to do was get up and kick some ass every now and again for the pride. His animal instincts were sharp and he picked up Ing’s distress signals right away.

“What’s the matter, honey?” A little bit of turkey shot from his mouth onto my floor but that was fine. I was more concerned with Ing falling to pieces and Spark lighting a fire to Vivid’s shoot and kicking them all out like someone’s smoke alarm just went off. The shoot was spread across both our lofts so our getting paid would be contingent on them getting paid too and that was only going to happen if the shoot was completed.

I was pretty much holding my breath like I had just dove into a deep pool and didn’t realize I had gone so far down – unable to figure out if I could get back to the surface. Ing’s voice was quivering like she just came out of the same pool with its waters too cold for comfort. “Ron wants to take a bath.”  Now I could tell that she was really hoping Spark would say no go, but Spark wasn’t hearing the whispers between the lines. So he said, “Sure, not a problem.” Ron Jeremy thanked him and made his way back to their loft.

Spark and I both assured Ing it would be fine. In retrospect, Spark and I undoubtedly had a difference of opinion on the definition of  ”fine” but we could navigate that disparity well enough… Ing, on the other hand, well… “fine” only referred to the line that is so easily crossed and from which there is never any easy return.