I shit you not.

You know I don’t talk too much about my past, but a long time ago, I taught high school seniors how to write. No, I didn’t take perverted pictures of them, nor did I behave inappropritately around them – ever. And if someone would have told me then that I’d be shooting porn now…well, I wouldn’t have believed them.

Not for a second.

Think it’s weird an ex-teacher is shootin’ porn? Ron Jeremey used to teach…special kids, too. So there. Plus, I’ve told you no one really aspires to be a pornographer…it just sorta happens. But yea, it might be weird, but oh well. Take me for what I am, but let’s not digress.

There was one student who was a real pain in the ass. Actually, I had lots and lots of Pain In The Ass Students. Tons. This particular student was in my class for the two or three weeks he actually showed up one semester. If he didn’t ditch my class, I gave him the boot most of the time, mostly cause he was a discipline problem.

Then he dropped out forever.

Let’s fast forward about a decade. Eight and a half years to be exact. I’m now the main guy shooting for Blacks on Blondes, and Erin Moore calls me. She’s excited, cause she’s kinda seeing this new guy, and he’s down with watching her get plowed by a big-dicked brother.

I’m serious.

I book the scene with my main most man Boz The Animal. He’s been known to tear a white pussy to shreds, especially when Hubby is watching.

I’ll cut to the chase: Erin walks in with her boyfriend, and it’s that Pain In The Ass Kid. To reiterate, I shit you not. If that wasn’t weird enough, here’s where it gets weirder: I actually remembered him. I taught for a few years, which tallies up to hundreds and hundreds of students, most of which were a pain in the ass, and I don’t remember 98% of them. In fact, to this day, I remember less than a dozen of them.

But I remembered Erin Moore’s cuckold.

The second he walked into my studio.

Thank God, Allah, Jesus, Buddah, The Pope, Joseph Smith and George W Bush that he didn’t recognize me.

I shot the scene. I didn’t mention a thing. Not a word to anyone, except maybe Spring Thomas, and, I think, Erin…a few days later, when she broke up with the guy. The whole thing was so fucking weird it’s painful to talk about even now, years later – my ex-Pain In The Ass Student who gets off watching his chick fuck a big-dicked brother.

Nice, huh?

But I got the scene. And that’s all that counts.

Right?

Joe hit me up on ICQ around the first of October for a favor – he’s working with Amber Rayne on her site, and he wanted me to blast off some content for him. He wanted a new look for some of her scenes, and he wanted to know if I was interested. I was flattered, and I took the gig.

Turns out the gig was a lesbo anal fuck fest with Naudia Nyce.

I hadn’t met Amber until that day, but I have a history with Naudia. She was Sophia’s pal, and whenever I’d see Naudia – and it was usually when I was hanging out with Sophy – she’d always refer to me as “Sophia’s Friend From Arizona”, and I always thought that had kind of a nice ring to it. And of course I’d ask her when we could work together, and the answer was always “soon” – which never happened…until just this week.

I love Sirius Radio. I really do. It kicks a whole bunch of ass, from Howard Stern – who’s practically reinvented himself on satellite – to The Underground Garage and Left of Center. I blast the radio whenever I’m working in the studio, and my Amber Rayne / Naudia Nyce day was no exception. I should have known the girls wouldn’t be digging Wilco or Sonic Youth or Ben Kweller, so when Amber asked if I had any Motley Crue, I bolted to my radio and tuned in Hair Nation.

Ever see what happens to porn girls when The Crue is turned to up to 11? Or G n’ R? It’s a lot like George Romero’s zombies in his latest masterpiece Land of the Dead. Remember when the zombies get distracted by fireworks? So much so they stare into space and leave The Living alone?

Don’t believe me? Next time you’re hanging out with porn stars, blast “Sweet Child O’ Mine” and watch, in pure amazement, as the girls suddenly lose all train of thought in whatever it was they were doing to start prancing around the room like they’re working a strip joint for 20 dollar bills. It’s amazing, it really is. One second Naudia and Amber are filling out model releases, the next it’s just like the front stage of your favorite club, and they’re looking into the air like Romero’s zombies, strutting their stuff and leaning up against anything that’ll hold them up. The only thing missing were brass poles.

OK – I’ll skip to the good part – where each girl had a glass dildo shoved up their butt, and they were racing to see who could cum first. It was a close call…really close. But I’ll give it to Amber. After both girls busted a nut and gave each other a gentle kiss on the lips, I flipped off the camera, said the same thing I always say at the end of a good scene, and started off to unload content.

Do you think the girls stopped what they were doing?

Fucking Amber started heavin’ and shakin’, and I sat there for a second, foolishly thinking she was just goofing, and when it dawned on me she wasn’t, I ran and got my camera and flipped it back on. Naudia was going nuts too – working her butthole – as Amber pounded on her clit. Naudia moaned and groaned and so did Amber, and I said, more than once, “but girls, the scenes over! Time to get paid!!” and they told me – in unison – to shut the fuck up, and the next thing I know Amber really busted a nut…all over my brand new studio floor. They kissed again, looked up at me, and smiled.

Wrap scene.

That’s about the time Cherry Poppens walked in, looked at the floor, then looked at me and said, “Don’t expect me to clean that.”

Fair enough, Cherry. Fair enough. She grabbed my cameras and unloaded content while I did the dirty work…loving every second of it.

Take a look at Kelly Wells.

She’s getting choked out by one of the three dudes I hired to pound her for Blacks on Blondes. I say “one of the three”, cause honestly, I don’t remember which one actually did the choking. I think that’s Brian Pumper’s hand wrapped around her throat, but it might be Nathan Threat’s, too. I don’t think it’s Byron Long, cause that’s not his style.

I’d like to add Kelly is one of my favorites to work with, and, in fact, if you scroll down a bit or poke around my blog, you’ll see where I wrote about her recently.

I’d also like to add a few things here:

1) Kelly requested the good, old-fashioned choke-out session, cause that’s something she claims to be into

2) Nothing from Porno Land is real.

Oh sure, she’s getting choked out, and sure, her eyes are rolling up into the back of her hear like a pair of window shades, so I guess in that aspect it’s real. But we talked about the scene before hand, and the sceanario for the scene, and how she was going to get fucked, and how she was going to suck, and all that…so, in that way, it’s kinda staged, you know?

Where am I going with this? Well, I think even though things aren’t real in porn, they’re real, ya know? Especially if you’ve never worked in the sex biz. An outsider looking in, I guess.

I’d like to ask you a rhetorical question – do you think Kelly’s getting choked out? Or getting fingers jammed down her throat?

Let’s put it another way: it’s a lot like going to a strip joint, which I know you’ve done before. Suddenly, there’s a beer in your hand and a girl dancing in front of you, and it’s real, and she’ll grind the shit out of you, and blow in your ear, and damn that beer is cold and soothing, and she’ll whisper nice things to you, and sit and talk with you between songs, and ask about your life, and you’ll ask about hers, and bladda-bladda-blah, but in reality, she’s there for your 20 dollar bill.

And the next one.

And the next one.

And that’s it.

And when you’re out, so is she.

So, does that make it all real?

Did I ever tell you that there’s times when I’m rolling tape and have out-of-body experiences? I’m serious. It’s fucking weird. I’ll be shooting and thinking to myself this isn’t real and suddenly I’m on the perimeter of the set, watching me work, and thinking never in a million years did I ever think I’d be shooting porn for a living. And then I’ll think I’m watching two people doing something almost all of us see as the most intimate act we’ll ever do, and it’s really no big deal – cause it’s not real. None of this is real.

Back to Kelly. She’s doing things that many people consider obscene – and things you’ll probably never do in your lifetime.

Those fingers in her mouth? Real.

The spitting and choking? Real.

In a sense, I suppose. But really, it’s not real. Not that real.

Because at the end of the scene, everyone cleans up, and puts on street clothes, and walks into my office to collect their check for an acting job. Because, in the end, that’s the only reason Kelly’s on my set.

The only reason any of them ever come to my set.

So next time you watch a porno girl doing some filthy and despicable, remember, it’s not really real.

Not that real, anyway.

Things have been slow in Porn Valley, cause, well…it’s the slow time of the year. For models, anyway. So when Taryn Thomas called me up for work, I wasn’t all that surprised. From time to time we keep in touch: we’re both from the same place, and we’ve known each other for years, and we know a lot of the same people, so every few months one of us will ring the other up just to say hi – or whatever.

Anyway, Taryn called for some work, and of course I’ll find work for her, cause she’s Taryn Thomas, and she kicks a whole lotta ass, and I did: we started with a Taryn Thomas hand job, then went on to a scene I’m not really going to talk about now cause the time isn’t right (new site, new fetish…and too new to show you anything, anyway) and we finished our work day with Taryn eating some ass.

I might as well talk about J. Sinn, too.

He had been living in the green room of our studio for a while, cause he was in between places, or maybe looking for a place to crash cause he was running low on funds – I really don’t have any idea, cause I don’t ask him those sorts of questions; however, I will ask him questions about his sister, Bella Donna, or about how his work is going at Shane’s World, or about Mormonism, cause he’s a Jack Mormon, and there’s nothing more I love to do more than bag on Joey Smith and Brigham Young and those lovable kooks who call themselves The Latter Day Saints.

J.’s been asking for work, too, and I’ve been giving it to him – mostly as male talent for Eat Some Ass. He loves to get his butt munched, and I can’t say the same thing for most of the Porno Dudes in Porno Land. I think it’s mainly cause there’s something covertly gay about a guy getting in, say, doggy position, and letting a chick lick his brown eye. Maybe it has to do with it being a submissive thing. I dunno. But booking a scene for Eat Some Ass isn’t as easy as booking a scene for Spunkmouth, or JOMG, or anything else I book.

But J. Sinn takes the work, so I give it to him. Taryn licked his butt, and all went well, and it was a good scene…but something more came of it. Cause lately, J. Sinn hasn’t been living in the green room at my studio anymore. That’s because a special sort of connection happened that day Taryn cleaned J. Sinn’s dumper with her tounge…something special indeed. Perhaps it’s that intimate feeling two people share when one of them is licking the other’s tooshy. Anyway, J. Sinn is gone, and word has it Taryn Thomas’s apartment smells the same way our green room did after J. Sinn would finish drinking one of his hi-fiber protein shakes.

I think I’ll leave it at that. I never intended for my blog to be a place for gossip, or to spread rumors, or news, or anything else for that matter.

In fact, lately I have no idea what my intentions are with this blog.