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.

We love clean soapy boobs!

You can’t really tell anyone to buy you a new couch, not even a porn company that shot an anal sex scene in your apartment on that very same couch and even if Ron Jeremy was taking a nap on it just then. Maybe if you had negotiated it into your location rental  contract but that would require foresight. Unfortunately that was something Ing had been short of at the time it mattered. Now it didn’t matter if she wanted a new couch, Vivid was not about to buy her a couch and neither was Ron. He also apparently was too busy snoring, making a noise that sounded vaguely familiar, in a sort of twisted way, something like a very unladylike pussy queef being mic’d and amplified through a super sub woofer. Ing was not taking it well. Her stress level rose to a point where the pressure was literally choking her. Her usually pale white face was red and her she had trouble getting words out.

“I… I… I am going… going to… done… their done… This is not what… not what was agreed.”

“You can’t stop the production right in the middle. That will cause all sorts of havoc and forget getting paid. They should be almost done. Get paid; get the couch cleaned. You made it through this far, you can make it the rest of the way.”

“He stinks. I am going to have to get a new couch.” She didn’t want to let it go. No one can blame her. But I guess I was to blame. I should have been more cautionary when they were considering renting their loft to Vivid. There will be anal sex. There will be used condoms found where you least expect and hope most for them not to show up. There will be porn stars standing outside your door taking a smoke break and talking loudly and incessantly about what stud they took in the butt last week that made it hard to walk for three days. There will be phone bills for calls to Jersey and Prague and all points in between. There could even be Ron Jeremy on your couch snoring away sounding like a giant endless pussy fart.

Just then Ron himself walked in.

“Ing. Do  you mind if I take a bath?”

Clean as Ron Jeremy!

Was that a squirrel?!

Being in the porn biz – especially amateur porn – as long as I had been, well, you see things. Crazy things. Sexy stuff, of course, but sometimes things that just pretty much leave you speechless like you just got caught masturbating in a gym locker after the girls soccer practice. I was interviewing Terry the housewife from Salt Lake City Utah and she was telling me all the wild stuff that she liked to do. She loves anal. She loves DP.

She loves giving gummers.

I know I had hesitated not really understanding quite what she meant by that but trying to figure it out before I looked like a moron when she dropped her dentures out and  it became all too obvious. Well, never let it be said that I don’t have a taste for adventure and like as Hunter S. Thompson once said, “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” So I said, “Ok” and away we headed to shoot a homemade sex tape at my house.

Terry started by playing with a toy. Her pleasingly plump and curvaceous body was nice; I imagine in her 20′s that she was probably very much the “girl next door type” but age and experience and a few kids transformed her into the “milf next door” .

I watched and kept the camera rolling while she played with her sex toys until she beckoned me to join her. I was anxious to experience the gummer and my dick was hard and standing firm giving the “Ok, let’s do this” salute. She proceeded to suck and tongue my dick with enthusiasm and at the perfect moment she very seamlessly and almost invisibly pulled the dentures out in a swift motion that looked like she was merely wiping the slobber from her mouth left by the wet bj. But when her mouth went back to my cock…

Oh my freaking fucking ding dang ding-a-ling dong!

That shit felt AMAZING! It was kind of like a tickling sensation but so smooth and surreal because if there had been teeth it would have been “toothy” and miserable but with just gums there was nothing unpleasant about it at all. I was going to cum way too fast but she eased back. A moment later, she just as quickly popped her teeth back in and invited me to fuck her in her big round butt.

Kind of makes me look forward to being in the old folks home now to tell you the truth…

Check the video out at Homegrown – “Terry and Don” in “Bedroom Windows #53″!

Nice couch... I mean ass!

Sex on a brown couch

you couldn’t give it away

not with that cum stain…

Have you lived in this world long enough to wish you had amateur sex videos as keepsakes of various ex-girlfriends? You have to have been around long enough to actually forget all the stuff that resulted in her being your exgf and you have to have held on with a special glimmer in your mind’s eye to those special moments that were worth remembering. You know – like that time when your exgf added rimming your asshole to her blowjob repertoire one crazy martini soaked evening when inhibitions peeled away with her lacy lingerie and left you both open to walking naked on the wild side.

I remember when I was a sophomore in college there was an older girl in the senior class I dated briefly. Some footage from that relationship would make great exgf video porn. The so-called relationship which was essentially being an on-call boy toy booty call which could easily be avoided by day was all about crazy sex. By crazy, I mean partly by my standards at the time, because I was still pretty new and innocent at the time, having only been with about two other girls previously. But even by my aged, wizened, demented, twisted, debauched, lecherousness of my current standards it was still sort of wild.

She was from Germany and she had a sweet hairy pussy, very athletic, with perky boobs, and an ass you could beat on and signal a war party with. She used to like to kick the shit out of me. She liked to wrestle for foreplay, WWE style, drop kicks, elbow smashes, sleeper holds, the works. By the time she was smacking my face and our clothes were essentially torn to sweaty shreds, then she was ready for cock and wanted to be fucked hard. I was still innocently struggling with the idea of “love-making” and hadn’t quite figured out the thing called “fucking”. I was a deer in the headlights. I couldn’t figure out why she wanted me to toss her around and if I showed any sort of passive reluctance then that only provoked her to do things like try to punch me in the nuts.

Now I get it. It was kinky. It was wild. It meant playing a part in something and taking the fantasy to a place where it could be enjoyed as reality. If we had only made some amateur porn then I could’ve used it like a training video, a replay of the game, to go over with a coach and see where I went right or wrong in each and every exgf movie.

Oh well, at least I have Homegrown Video now to help in matters like this.

1. Couples and hot girls try harder when they are trying to make the big time and go from amateur porn into pro porn but they still don’t know how to be robots doing the same thing over and over and still have real and sincere reactions to how good things feel.
2. Homegrown Video gets to showcase up and coming girls like Meggan Malone, who went on to be a Vivid contract girl along with Jenna Jameson and others.
3. Producers seek out Homegrown Video with rare unearthed finds like Sasha Gray’s amateur porn initiation which just was updated to the Homegrown Video site.
4. Being a stepping stone in amateur porn is kind of like being a kid whose parents actually own the candy store.
5. Stepping stones are useful, Homegrown Video gets to be the “Granddaddy of amateur porn” according to Penthouse so that means we get to teach everyone how it’s done… old school style, keeping the real fun of making amateur sex movies alive and well.
6. Getting to go “na, na, na, we saw her first anal sex scene” to all our competition is just too much evil fun to pass up.
7. Stepping stones can be the building blocks of a great career to the enterprising amateur porn producer that wants to be successful in the industry – Homegrown Video has taught many a amateur sex videomaker the ropes and opened doors to working with plenty of other companies.
8. Being a stepping stone means not being a rolling stone and gathering a little moss, which is to say Homegrown Video has been around long enough to be consistent, available, and helpful with amateur that want to make sex videos and don’t know whom to trust.
9. Stepping stones beautify the pathway, and on the path of porn, that means Homegrown Video treats people right and fair and doesn’t stoop to any of the ugliness that gives the industry a bad name.
10. Homegrown Video might be “just a stepping stone” but what is wrong with that? People have to start somewhere.

This is the intellectual equivalent of an anal pounding in a ten man gang bang. In fact, I know it will cause some people to tighten their sphincters and turn up their noses like they just smelled the stink of sweat and ass and sperm in a humid hotel room where aforementioned gang bang was in full swing.

Max Hardcore is an artist. Yes, artist. You can even add an “e” to the end. Artiste.

Love or hate his body of work; you cannot deny that it has the consummate power to move your spirit, shake the foundations of your most sacred sensibilities, turn you on or off, turn you around, and make you react and question and examine yourself upon greater reflection. And that, at least with the benefit of some fine arts education, is what anyone with a few glasses of Chablis at any gallery opening would have had to agree and admit; albeit, usually begrudgingly, especially if they are one of those people.

The people, those people, you know who… those people that think they are better than you or I looking down at all of us from such lofty perches, with more, more, more; more education, more connections, looks, money and property and more of everything that you don’t actually have but wish secretly that you actually did, including even more proximity to God, those people are the ones condemning porn for appearances sake. Why? We all know from so many examples of them being caught with their pants down (shrink dink small dicks after all) the reality is they, those people, are just as entertained by porn’s artifice and the sleazy, smutty, dirty, nasty, slutty sense of itself.

Still, from some kind of intellectual cloud of vast and mysterious superiority, so aloof and all knowing, like self declared hands of God they wield the sword of righteousness that somehow cleaves what is art from what is obscene. Parting awesome good from evil bad, weaving gorgeous sophist rationales to excuse their own hypocrisies, casting golden judgment on what is not worthy; punishments and rewards must be handed out accordingly! And they are just the ones to decide who lives, who dies, and who lives to be immortalized… and… of course… who needs to go to jail for being obscene.

In Max Hardcore’s case, this even meant a trip to the penitentiary. You see… his work was judged to be obscene and that meant his work was not actually art. In fact to them it was anti art. The complete and utter absence of art, devoid of meaning and merit, and pandering to the basest of instincts… Now, to really make that decision about something so subjective as any work of art one would assume you actually need some background, an education would be best, to actually have some sort of serious credentials to make that sort of subjective opinion. Because, not only was freedom of expression on the line but also freedom from being physically incarcerated. On top of that, this opinion would need to be articulated in a way that a majority of people actually think it is utterly objective and just bow down then and there in agreement to its perfect logic and submit to the faith of its total truth now and forever.

So, how could anyone on that jury know if Max made art or pandered to obscenity if they hadn’t attended even one semester of Max Hardcore University? Before owning Homegrown Video, as a graduate from his program I learned firsthand just how much blood, sweat, tears artistry went into his work. I was astonished by his vision and devotion. Moved by his tortured soul striving to express something to the world, I was witness to his mad repulsive genius.

I lived to tell the tale.