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)

Moisturizes and protects...

A fucking reward?

For what? Cum bubble blowing…

or anal gang bang…

As Homegrown Video once again crosses fingers and strokes dick in anticipation of another year of being in business and hopefully collecting some more AVN awards for our unique brand of amateur sex videos we take a quick moment of self reflection, introspection, and a measure of self mockery to postulate on whether or not this will be a year of reward and recognition or one of being forgotten and unloved; never to stand at the podium and tearfully thank mom, pop, and the American people as well as hopefully some of those proud and horny people’s/customers of many other lands, except the ones where porn is so illegal they kill you for making it, never to stand tall among our peers and collect the big fat blow job of wet and slippery congratulations, and never to know the joy of walking through the casino hoisting a trophy that everyone wants to know… “What is that for?”

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.

Of course, then she would be reinventing herself again. Stephanie Swift would no longer be the Homegrown Video amateur porn girl. She wouldn’t be the ass fucking cum bubbling lickity spit hairy boy butt sniffing super slut anymore. Now, at Wicked, Stephanie Swift could finally rise to porn superstardom. The sad irony is that is a place more asexual than sexual, cold and foreboding. The gorgeous women that inhabit that place don’t want to be touched. The highest aspiration there is to have less sex, make more money. The fans become annoying, subjects that must be ruled, and having a body guard to enforce restraint and limit access is handy. Besides, the bodyguard can also always carry the suitcases too.
Forget the ass sex. A facial is going to be a privilege to be negotiated like you have been married for 20 years.
Max Hardcore’s latest starlet Catalina parted the sea of fans and approached with a huge smile. Her swaying hips and tight dress came from the clearance rack of the stripper attire aisle at Kmart. I said hello as Max made the introduction to his “latest whore”. The smile didn’t fade or rust. I said hello. The smile creaked faintly, then she turned to Max and declared she was ready to go.
Max may be the driver, with his pit crew ready to change the lights, the action, the scene, in a heartbeat, but he knows the whores are the gas which fuels the supercharged engines in all those horny little fans. So he put the pedal to the metal and raced away with a crowd of gawkers snapping shots as Catalina preened and flirted with them under Max’s wary eye.

The cannon recoils

 Shiny white missiles blasts forth

better surrender

Stephanie Swift was not returning the calls. I gave up. We would have to find someone else to sign at our booth in Las Vegas at the AVN show. Worse, I know I sounded like a frigging didn’t know  he’d been dumped yet high school boyfriend that hadn’t taken the hint yet when I left the messages basically pleading with her to return my calls on the promise, made weak with such hesitation and uncertainty, that it would hopefully, maybe, possibly be worth her while. Time was running out. We would just have to try and find someone else that would stand there and look hot and keep a smile through grueling hours of slobbering guys paying her greasy compliments all day long. In addition, I had other concerns to deal with because our genius graffiti artist hired to spray our booth had not come in yet to discuss the artwork and he was becoming just as hard to get a call back from. I am not sure if that is a compliment to porn stars or a critique of artists but either way I was going nuts and was ready to throw the artist into an anal gang bang scene or spray the flaky porn girls with a can of rust-O-leum.

Finally the artist came by the office to discuss the booth. I told him we wanted it to tell a story about the evolution of Homegrown Video, how we started as a purely amateur porn company but blossomed into something completely unique and how far we were looking into the future as we grew and matured as an adult entertainment company. He nodded but when he nodded he seemed close to nodding out since I think he had worked perhaps one too many late nights with a can of paint spraying out mind altering vapors of toluene without the protection of a gas mask. This may have had some benefit to  the creative side of the process but nailing down some sort of  business arrangement was becoming increasingly complex; I might as well have been dropping acid and trying to take the police entrance exam.

I couldn’t be sure that he actually understood that we needed the work done by a specific deadline in order to send the booth to Vegas in order to be set up in time. I couldn’t even tell if he had actually started work on it. He asked if I could provide some reference material to help inspire the female figures that he wanted to paint. Well, in an amateur porn company that certainly was not  going to be a problem. Why it took so long to get to that point, dude wants a porn handout, fine, not like I haven’t  heard that before, was a bit beyond me. I wasn’t about to sniff paint to figure it out though; I went to the rack full of all the porn mags that we had and grabbed a few for him to review. He showed me some pictures that he wanted to use and I said no problem, good luck, ok I will advance just a bit  more of the cash that was not due until completion, please, please, please  get this  done in time and sent him on his way. He tore out the images carefully and went on his ethereal, dopey way.

A few days later, the magazine was still on my desk.  I opened it up to see if we had any of our movies reviewed. Nothing. But there was something that certainly got my attention faster than a porn star faking her first orgasm. I turned the page and there was Stephanie Swift. Not only was she very clearly and prominently featured absolutely blatantly in a porn rag, but also she was engaged in an act that truly represents the very pinnacle of porn sluttiness. There was sweet and shy Stephanie Swift, who didn’t  want her boyfriend to know that she did anal or other guys and didn’t want her boyfriend’s parents to know that she did an amateur porn for Homegrown Video, pure and natural amateur Stephanie Swift in a gang bang video. Anal, oral, vaginal, the triple penetration crown of dirty nasty whorishness, massive multiple loads of spunk plastered on her face from a bunch of meat heads and mooks, even a line of guys bending over for her to lick each and every one of their assholes, including the hairiest and nastiest puckered sphincter of the king of smut himself Mr. Ron Jeremy, Stephanie was doing it all and with a sly smile on her face. Maybe she was just happy that she had a multi-video contract. Maybe she knew that once people saw her licking Ron Jeremy’s sweaty stank of pubic twirled and curled anus they would know that she was capable of going where not porn star had gone before.

As has been noted before,   I would never have had any sort of issue of these sorts if it were not for my upbringing which is a mix of cherished though weathered Southern gentility mixed with a dash of East Coast blueblood aspirations. Those affectations are to this day like a starched suit of propriety worn over a leopard print dong thong. Dressed underneath the pleasant manners and the stuffy cordialities there is only the half naked, fully sweaty, panting hard, trappings of a bona fide sex fiend ready to be exposed. So trying to maintain acting all dressed up and unruffled while all the while feeling the completely nude emotion of intense sexual desire was literally causing me to sweat. And a sweaty guy with a couch in his office that innocent young San Diego girls would take their clothes off and lie on was not making Daphne’s friend change her mind about amateur porn at all. The way she was looking at me I might as well have had horns on my head, a pointy tale, and sitting in a fiery office chair.

But when the going gets tough, then the tough get hard… and make some porn!

I won’t bore you with the details of what we did sexually; what would be the point? You can watch that video in Homegrownvideo.com or catch it in the “Eye Contact #2” from Homegrown.  Suffice to say it was all that and a cherry on top that left me smiling for days and led to many future videos and wild sex adventures – I guess most of  which was captured for the camera. And who can forget when Daphne worked as our “naughty secretary” who was on a live cam all day… the fact that she loved to hike her panties aside and play with her wet pussy all day was certainly a plus  for our fans, but  the downside was  having other work to do… lesson learned. All sex and no work is no way to run a porn biz.

And what about Daphne’s porn hater pal? She stayed in the office next to where I was fucking her BFF, not long though, as soon as the sounds of our frantic fucking began to echo down the hall she was out of there. Leaving Daphne stranded in the clutches of a dangerous pornographer?  What are friends for if you can’t fuck them or be fucked over by them, right?

The funny part is that Daphne and her friend did make up and start talking again… Only to find out that while Daphne had become an amateur porn queen and Homegrown Video legend, her pal was working in a jack shack with twisted perverts paying her hundreds of dollars to pee on them. The wonders of this world never cease to amaze me.

When Daphne made her first Homegrown Video scene, which was featured in the Eye Contact series in volume two, she looked just about as innocent as could possibly be – imagine if all the virginal buxom heroines from Disney movies going back to Snow White, to the Little Mermaid, to Pocahontas all suddenly came to life and became suddenly self aware of their sex drives.  I could barely believe she was sitting in my office to interview about doing naked pictures and making sex videos. I had to keep blinking and saying “you sure you want to…” and “you know this is x-rated amateur videos…” Matters were not helped by the fact that she brought her absolutely stunningly pretty friend with her that was completely suspicious of my motives. She was basically sneering at me while I tried hard to avoid looking like everyone’s favorite stereotype of the evil porn king bent on turning confused young ladies into wanton sluts and made to bend over and take a big dick in the ass so others could pay for the privilege of watching their innocence defiled.

The more I told her, the more interested she became. I was trying to scare her off but instead it was having the absolute opposite effect. She was becoming intensely turned on while her gorgeous pal was becoming increasingly disgusted.  Finally, I asked Daphne when she was ready to start. “Today.” She said with a very mischievous smile. (Her pal groaned and rolled her eyes) Ok. This was the moment where I raised my hands and eyes to the heavens and thanked God and Country for having the best job on the planet. Daphne’s pale, flawless skin, her beautiful green eyes, and tremendously bounteous bosom adorning her curvy body were making me sweat; the conflict of wanting, on the one hand, to respect her innocence, but on the other, ravishing her and rocking my cock in her mouth until I dumped a load of cum on her nose was like suffering the torments of the damned. (to  be continued…)

The other day Lani and I were having sex when all of a sudden she asked that I fuck like the president. So I asked, “Which one?”

“All of them!” She replied.

“You have to be more specific.” I said. “Name one and I will fuck like he does.”

“Start with Nixon!” she threw out. So I tried sneaking in her backdoor but she caught me and impeached me from going any further. Then she said, “Ford!” I begged her pardon and tried to sink a hole in one with my putter in her pussy hole. She got kind of bored with that though and suggested Jimmy Carter next so I asked for the Lord to forgive me while I fucked her good and hard while I imagined fucking all the Playboy bunnies who attended Hugh Hefner’s pajama party in 1978. She enjoyed it but it just wasn’t enough so she screamed for Ronald Reagan.  I kept a big smile on my face while I secretly snuck my finger into her ass which made her shoot me a couple “what the fuck are you doing” looks but never took the smile off my face… on the contrary, I kept plugging away…

Then she asked for Bush Sr. so I just went ahead and invaded her ass but that didn’t last long before she wanted the President I was most looking forward to all along, Bill Clinton. I went wild like a freak and she loved every minute of it even when I pulled out and came all over her face and her blue nightgown. It was amazing and I thought we would stop there but, well, you know Lani… she just wanted more… but even I was kind of shocked when she asked for more…  Bush… Jr., that is.

So I had to re-inflate my now limp cock and try to figure out what the hell I was going to do so I figured I might as well, what the hell, try to go back to invading her ass and plunder her for all she was worth so that by the time I was through she would be pretty much too exhausted to continue. But we are talking about Lani here and you know what? She hoped we could go on. So at last she called for Obama. I ratified my stimulus package, rolled up my sleeves, and proceeded to lay some pipe…