I log into the members’ area at Blacks on Blondes, usually on Mondays (cause that’s when it updates). I log in so I can see how the members rate my work.

Their favorite scene features Annette Schwartz, the German Wonder.

Their second-favorite scene features Annette Schwartz, the German Wonder.

The bronze medal winner usually varies, but it’s usually Bree Olson, Sasha Gray, or Dana DeArmond.

There’s probably 300+ scenes at Blacks on Blondes –60 (or so) DVD’s worth — and when we’re talking Annette, or Bree, or Sasha, or Dana, we’re talking the cream of the porno crop.

But I didn’t really have to tell you that.

Maybe that’s why they get paid the big bucks?

Anyway, sometimes when I log in to see what the members are thinking, I poke around the site…sorta like a stroll down memory lane. It’s fun, too, cause there’s some many memories for me packed into that site.

Like Jayma.

Hanging with Jayma at the Chateau Marmont.

Swimming with Jayma in Hawaii.

Watching Chico Wang direct Jayma in a “love making scene” with The Minion.

Jayma getting railed in a museum by a crew of ill-behaved Negros.

Jayma Jayma Jayma!

The next thing I know I’m beating it.

To her scene at Blacks on Blondes, of course…the one I just mentioned. Max Black is a rap star, and he’s with his posse at a museum, and Jayma’s a student, and she’s studying Egyptology, and Max and his crew is clowning, and making all sorts of noise, and Jayma asks them to be quiet, and the next thing you know there’s all sorts of debauchery and tom foolery going down.

And I’m beating off like a monkey in the zoo.

This is big news for me. Very big news. Cause I’ve never jerked to a movie I’ve directed. And I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve jerked to porn since I started making porn.

And my load?

Mighty.

Toe-curling.

I’m pretty sure I moaned like a bitch; I should have rubbed my nipples as I was cumming like a bitch, too.

In other words, No Way Am I Gay.

Then, something really weird: during the clean-up process, I couldn’t find the load. I went and got baby wipes from the bathroom, and I searched high and low for the mess…but nothing.

Maybe I lost it in the area rug?

Maybe it’s like one of those massive poops you think you just dropped in the toilet…but it turns out to be a mouse turd?

Maybe I was Ben Stiller, searching for the load that was stuck to the side of my head? So I ran into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

But nothing.

After 10 fruitless minutes of searching for The Massive Load That Wasn’t, it was time for nite nite.

The Massive Load That Wasn’t wore me out.

And in the morning, The Massive Load That Wasn’t remained a mystery to me…until I discovered my DVD player — the one I keep next to my desk –was glazed in a yellowy-white frosting that was beginning to curl at its hardened edges. The same DVD player in which I practice my yoga with my beloved yogi, Karen Voight. It’s a good 3 feet away, and when I tell you it was covered in my old, foul splooge…well, it was.

The Massive Load That Wasn’t really was.

Oh, joy!

A little Windex and piece of paper towel meant clean-up was a snap.