Category Archives: stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

stories from behind the camera

random raves, stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

Tara Lynn Foxx at Gloryhole and Blacks on Blondes

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Tara Lynn Foxx and Cameron Love Blacks on Blondes
I’m about to jump a plane outta here, but before I do I wanted to tell ya about this week’s updates at Blacks on Blondes and Gloryhole, cause Über-Hottie and porno newbie Tara Lynn Foxx is part of both of them.

Take note: I’ve never used “Über” here, and it’s just my way of saying goodbye to Germany as I head outta here. I wonder if anyone’s ever used “Über” to describe something pornographic? And using the umlaut correctly?

I think not.

At B.O.B., I had Tara Lynn and Cameron Love work each other a bit before they worked Jack Napier’s XXXXXL black dong. This includes Tara and Cameron taking turns cleaning each others’ butts with their tongues. I think the scene turned out well. Both of these girls are black cock sluts in real life.

Really, they are.

I think Cameron squirted all over the place, too…but I don’t recall now. Funny, but I kinda forget about the scenes I shoot almost immediately after I shoot them. Anways, both girls really gave their all, and I appreciated it.

A few days earlier Tara and I jumped into the van and headed out to a glory hole I found that’s still very cruisy.

Cruisy gloryhole.

I remember when The Producer said he wanted to start a glory hole site.

“Aren’t those a gay thing?” I asked.

He said, “Not anymore.”

Anyways, here’s Tara Lynn Foxx’s mySpace, and her Twitter. I know how much she loves her fans, and that’s why I’m posting the links here. Say hello to her. Who knows…maybe she’ll love you long time.

Someone recently commented that they don’t want anything but porno on a porn blog, and I kinda agree…so I’m gonna keep ISP more porno now.

What old school TV cop used to say, “Just the facts, mam?”

OK — I gotta run. It’s a long way home.

Tara Lynn Foxx and Cameron Love Blacks on Blondes

Here's the Skinny on Your Favorite Star, stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

Lexi Diamond’s First Porn Scene.

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Lexi Diamond first porn scene
Since it’s raining on my Salzburg Austria parade, I thought I’d tell you about Lexi Diamond.

Wait — let me tell you I saw Mozart’s doorbell today. Really, I did. Actually, I took a picture of Heir Mozart’s doorbell; it was his pad for 26 years, and I’m sure it’s not the original doorbell…but who knows. I’d like to think it was. I mean I’m not a Mozart nut or anything, but it was still kinda cool to see.

Anyways, Jim South has been a porno agent since Day 1. I mean that literally. As in Jim South and his World Modeling Agency was the place you’d go to book a Ginger Lynn / Traci Lords G/G scene in, say, 1983. I think the only other “official” porn agent that’s been around as long as Jim South is Reb…but I think South has him beat.

For the most part, Porno Agents are a sleazy lot. There’s a few good ones. Maybe 4 that I can think of off the top of my head. Maybe more. I dunno, mainly cause I’m still on vacation and I don’t want to think about porn a whole lot, except to tell you my story about Lexi Diamond. Oh…and that I like Jim South. He has some great stories, and I always try to pull one or two more out of him whenever I stop by to pay him whatever agency fees I owe. He’s the only one I really visit; the other agents I owe money get a check in the mail. Not Jim. Cause I can always count on something good whenever I stop by…like Tom Byron’s first nude Polaroid pic taken before he jumped into the Porno Game, or a good Traci Lords story.

Now, here’s where I kinda get down on World Modeling: their girls are kinda skanky. Some are really tough. I want to do biz with South, but it’s kinda tough. Then one day I get an e-mail from him touting porn newbie Lexi Diamond. I booked her immediately for Manojob and The Dick Suckers.

“Now, I gotta tell you this Billy. This girl has never shot before. Not a thing. And she’ll only shoot with her boyfriend. You OK with that Boss?”

Here’s my take on shooting a girl who will only work with her boyfriend: if it works out, the content is gold, cause almost no one else in Porn Valley will shoot a girl that only does things with boys if it’s her boyfriend. I like having content featuring a girl as hot as Lexi…especially since no one else will have it.

But there’s a huge risk…most boyfriends can’t perform. They’re not male talent…they’re boyfriends, and they suck at being a stunt cock. So I told this to Jim South, and I made it clear if BF couldn’t perform, they wouldn’t get paid.

“No problem Boss! She’ll be there with a smile on her face!”

Do I need to tell you boyfriend couldn’t get it up? Not even for one second. Which doesn’t mean I’m shit talking Boyfriend. I’ve blogged this a ton before — it ain’t easy being Male Talent. No way. Think about it…how many different dudes do you see in front of a camera? Since the internet it’s gotten way easier for dudes to jump into the game — but still. A whole different blog.

Anyways, Lexi and her man know the deal, and usually when BF fails and GF isn’t down to work with another dude, they’re hauling ass as fast as they can get out of there. But Lexi ain’t moving. So I leave the room so they can “discuss” and get on my cell phone to get a Stunt Cock down to my studio as fast as possible. Cause I already know how their discussion is going to turn out.

“You can wait in the make-up room while I shoot the scene,” I tell BF after they give me their decision. And the decision, of course, is that Lexi’s gonna jerk off anyone I can find, cause she ain’t going back to Jack-In-The-Box (her last job before porn).

Lexi Diamond hand job movie — and her first ever dirty movie. And it went so well I had her back a few weeks later, cause she was still in the game, and from what it looks like…she’s gonna be around a while.

A Lexi Diamond blowjob movie was shot a few weeks later.

I even had her come back for Manojob, cause I think she’s so cute, and I think she’s gonna have a decent Porno Career. Let’s just see how long BF watches from the sidelines before he says enough’s enough.

Cause sooner or later, that day’s gonna come.

And now I’m off to watch the rain fall and sit in front of my little pension and sip a Stiegl Spezial and listen to Indie Pop Rocks…cause they’re playing “Hey Joe”, and it’s not the Jimi Hendrix one…but the one by Tahiti 80 — a band I like very, very much.

But No Way Am I Gay.

Lexi Diamond first scene

stories from porno land (some amusing, some not), The First Time I Met Her, Thumb Galleries You Might Dig

Katrina Rosebud and her trip to the Glory hole

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Katrina Rosebud

When I was in junior high, I had a Social Studies teacher who was a total hippy. He’d play records while we were working on whatever it was we were working on that day. One of his records was “The Worst of Jefferson Airplane”, and I’d always wonder why anyone would name anything “The Worst” of…until now.

This blog’s original air date: October 23rd, 2005.

I’m laying around Dogfart’s secret mansion one night, watching TV and just cold-stone chillin’, when out of the blue Katrina Rosebud plops herself right next to me on the couch. She says hello, introduces herself, begins rubbing the inside of my thigh almost immediately, and asks if I’d like a back rub.

I know, I know. I can’t believe it, either. But I make a quick decision to ride this wave as far as she’ll take me.

Next thing I know we’re really getting friendly. I’m getting my back rubbed, she’s telling me her life story, and I’m still laying there thinking this can’t be true. But it was. I mean the back rub was real, and the conversation was real…her hands all over my ass was real.

And when she asked me to jacuzzi, it was very fucking real.

Next thing I know I’m naked, and she’s naked, and we’ve cracked a couple beers, and we’re making out in the jacuzzi. It’s a clear night, the coastline from Malibu to LAX is lit up like a Christmas tree, and I’m thinking there’s really nothing better right now than my life. I mean this is what Porno Land is all about – one second I’m watching TV, and the next minute Katrina Rosebud and I are naked in the jacuzzi, and now I’m on the edge and she’s about ready to start sucking my dick.

That’s when her friend came up and whispered something in her ear.

Katrina tells me to wait a sec…that she’ll be right back. And I say sure thing honey bunny and close my eyes to take it all in. I haven’t even been in Porno Land a month and already I’m hanging out with Porn Stars, and I’m in a multi-million dollar estate with Dogfart and the Crew, and we’re making porn by day and partying by night, and well…like I said: it don’t get any better than this. Fuck..who knows? Maybe both of them are on their way out here to fuck me silly.

A little later and no Katrina Rosebud. No friend. No one. I jump out of the jacuzzi to find my new girlfriend, and I’m thinking she’s inside, getting me a beer or something, and I’m gonna run into her on her way out to me.

Um, nope.

There’s Katrina Rosebud, fully-clothed, talking to Byron Long. Or Wesley Pipes. Or one of the crew. I don’t remember who.

“Hey Katrina, what’s up? Coming back?”

She looks at me like I’m the Elephant Man. And she didn’t answer me, either. I have no idea what’s up, until I find out the next day this all had to do with that secret whisper from her pal…it went something like this: Katrina. That is not the Producer. It’s not the guy renting the mansion. He’s just a lowly second cameraman. He can’t get you any work. I tried motioning that to you while you were rubbing his back in front of the TV. Get the fuck out of the jacuzzi now, and I’ll introduce to the right guy.

So there you have it. Katrina did end up getting a scene, but nothing else. Here’s her free glory hole movie.

And my ride with Katrina Rosebud had ended. Until a few years later, when I was in my LA studio, figuring out my shooting schedule, when I looked up to see Katrina. She had gained weight, looked tired, and she was hurting for work.

I smiled and asked if she remembered me.

Of course she hadn’t.

I smiled again and said I’d call her if I had anything.

stories from porno land (some amusing, some not), The First Time I Met Her, Worst of Billy Watson

Lisa Marie and STD’s.

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Lisa Marie


When I was in junior high, I had a Social Studies teacher who was a total hippy. He’d play records while we were working on whatever it was we were working on that day. One of his records was “The Worst of Jefferson Airplane”, and I’d always wonder why anyone would name anything “The Worst” of…until now.

This blog’s original air date: September 27, 2005…so I don’t know if her e-mail is still any good. I don’t even think she’s in the biz anymore. I suppose you could try the e-mail if you’re a fan. But don’t e-mail her just to shit talk, ok? By the way, I still like this entry enough to run it again whilst on the road to the Czech Republic.

By the way, anyone know what the girls are like there?

Oh…and Lisa Marie did come back, more than once…so how about I toss some free movies your way?

Here’s a Lisa Marie and Ruth Blackwell interracial movie for ya.

Here’s Lisa Marie in the glory hole. I remember very cleary she pulled a pen from her purse and scribbled “Skeezah Skeezah The Dick Pleezah” on the bathroom wall. I don’t remember if she told me her high school nickname was “Skeezah” but I think she did.

Yesterday Lisa Marie showed up for her shoot – early – and realizes, while she’s shooting pool in my green room, that her HIV test just expired 24 hours ago.

It’s a long story, but last month she tested positive for gonorrhea…and her retest was delayed…and the next thing you know she’s forgetting the original date of her HIV test…see, I told you it’s a long story.

And now you’re thinking one of two things – you’re either grossed out that she’s got a STD, or you’re thinking she “deserves” it, or she “got what was coming to her”.

Or, you can’t believe I just posted it here — on my blog — for all to read.

Well, I asked Lisa if I could write about it, cause this is a porn blog, and it’s about the sex business, and these sorts of things happen all the time in Porno Land. And I want people that don’t live and work in Porno Land to know a little about what it’s like to do so. And she OK’d it.

Sure, porn stars are tested every 30 days for HIV, gonorrhea, and chlamydia. But in a world where friends and strangers fuck for a living, STD’s are commonplace. And it’s also commonplace on every college campus in the nation, but that’s a different story. Or is it? I mean I got chlamydia when I was in school, and almost all my pals came down with drippy dick once or twice.

So don’t blame porn, brother.

I could ramble on about Herpes and Staph — both which aren’t part of the Porno STD test — but then I’m afraid I might ruin porn for ya.

Anyway, I was bummed, cause Lisa Marie is a heet, and she’s nice, and she loves to fuck on camera, and I know I’m gonna miss a great scene. I tell her this. And she comes back with a date next month to reschedule, and an unpublished pic for my blog. How fucking cool is that? The pic was shot by Floyd Hardwick; it’s one of his test shots, and it’s gonna end up somewhere on a Jim Lane product…don’t know which one, yet.

Then she gave me her e-mail to post here, so more of her fans can write! She loves getting e-mails as much as I dig reading your comments on this, so here ya go: LM4202004 at Yahoo (dot) com. So write and tell her how much you love her.

I know I do.

my life, random rants, stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

Billy’s Wild Days, Part I

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Mally

When I was in junior high, I had a Social Studies teacher who was a total hippy. He’d play records while we were working on whatever it was we were working on that day. One of his records was “The Worst of Jefferson Airplane”, and I’d always wonder why anyone would name anything “The Worst” of…until now.

This blog’s original air date: September 28, 2005

It seems like yesterday.

I was living in Dogfart’s secret mansion, and we were shooting so much porn my head was starting to spin. “We” as in Dogfart, S.S., myself, and Justin Timberlakefeelsyourpain.

Here’s a typical day:

9 am — wakey wakey eggs & bakey. S.S. would make fun of my microwaved bacon and scrammies, and sometimes I’d whip that up just to hear him shit talk.

11am — Aimee Tyler interracial gangbang in the kitchen.

3 pm — Aurora Snow does two well-endowed black men in the sauna.

5pm — Drive out to the Gloryhole with Spring Thomas and hope someone would come in to take a piss, see what was going down, and then pop it through; if we lucked out we’d shoot it — if not leave and come back another day; either way, we’d then haul ass back to the Secret Mansion for supper and a night shoot.

9pm — Asian slut Sin-Eye entertains twenty inches of black dong in the front room.

11pm catch Curb Your Enthusiasm!

Monday thru Thursday, then break for the weekend.

Byron Long calls this period of time an “era”, and while I won’t go that far, we did make a shit load of smut.

Anyways, I was shooting so much I started to have porno dreams. Not wet dreams. Not sexy dreams. More like work dreams. Dreams where I forgot how to white balance the camera. Dreams where I format a memory stick before I DL’d the pics to the hard drive. Dreams when I’d have the camera on PAUSE during the pop-shot.

Shit like that.

This was also the time I really started to learn the in’s and out’s of this biz. All about agents and suitcase pimps, attitudes and tardiness. I learned that 11am usually meant 1 pm, and that agents are, for the most part, Satan’s Pilgrims. And suitcase pimps were usually named “Bob” or “Tim” and were middle-aged ex-cops with flat-top haircuts that somehow managed to work their way into a porno girl’s life…and her bank account.

But shit we had a lot of fun.

The Producer would scream lines from Natural Born Killers into Justin Timberlakefeelsyourpain’s ear just as Justin was chugging GBH and coca-cola; late nights watching the first year of Curb Your Enthusiasm with Dogfart and smoking way too much weed; driving down the hill with Dogfart to the Ralph’s in Malibu, where awesome celebrity sightings were commonplace (the best being Pamela Anderson bending over right in front of me at the deli counter and showing off her butt crack); and taking fun BTS pics with the girls before and after their shoots.

I had my first (and only) ménage à trois ever in my whole life, and in the most stereotypically, cliched place of all — a hot tub.

And I didn’t even have to pay them after it was all said and done.

Our good times there ended with that lease, but I’ll remember them for a long, long time.

stories from porno land (some amusing, some not), Worst of Billy Watson

The Minion

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The Minion

When I was in junior high, I had a Social Studies teacher who was a total hippy. He’d play records while we were working on whatever it was we were working on that day. One of his records was “The Worst of Jefferson Airplane”, and I’d always wonder why anyone would name anything “The Worst” of…until now.

This blog’s original air date: October 22, 2005.

min·ion:
1. An obsequious follower or dependent; a sycophant.
2. A subordinate official.
3. One who is highly esteemed or favored; a darling.

[French mignon, darling, from Old French mignot, mignon.]

He’s 6’4″ – maybe more.

He weighs 320 pounds – maybe more.

His penis is 4 inches long – maybe less.

And they call him The Minion.

Everything I tell you here is true, so with that being understood, let’s talk about The Minion. When he first got into the porn biz a while back, he was a virgin. Well, that’s not entirely true. Once time he paid a whore to fuck him, but he only got 2 pumps in before it was all over. And now – a year or so later and thanks to the help of Diabolic/Anabolic director Chico Wang – he’s fucked 70 or 80 of the hottest porn stars working today: Courtney Cummz, Luci Thai, Alicia Alighatti, Kat, Chanel Chavez, Sativa Rose, and a shitload more.

You see him here from tonight’s shoot with Alisha Alighatti.

I just left a few hours ago.

I think I’ll tell you how it went down: The Minion starts with a dozen Jumbo Jacks in front of him. He’s nude, with just a towel wrapped around him. He’s laying on Chico’s floor with the burgers. They’re laid out to form a perfect burger pyramid. There’s also a large container of maple syrup, as well as 2 large cans of whipped cream. As he begins to devour the hamburgers, he starts this nutty rant on Italians.

See, Alisha is Italian, so The Minion wants to get her all worked up.

So from bad jokes about Italian food, to why the Italians lost WWII, to Mafia jokes, The Minion covers all bases. He leaves nothing out. All the while shoving Jumbo Jack after Jumbo Jack down his throat…while chugging maple syrup in between.

Does this have you all sexed up yet?

If not, then enter Alisha. She’s maybe 5’5″, 105 pounds; she’s got perfect tits to match her perfect ass, and full lips with bright blue eyes. And she’s pissed from all the Italian jokes. She’s holding a long piece of PVC pipe in her hands. So the first thing she does is whack The Minion across his back.

“Is that all you have, byatch?” The Minion asks.

Alisha cracks him again, way harder this time. He howls. Then, after Alisha squirts him down with whipped cream, she yells a bunch more at him…then shoves more Jumbo Jack down his throat. Repeat a few times. Then they proceed to fuck and suck. The whole time I’m sitting behind the lights, watching this whole deal go down. And I’m pinching my nose and covering my mouth, trying to hold back the laughter.

I wish I could remember some of The Minion’s lines. Most were priceless. He burped a lot, and spit food all over Alisha. All the while I was kinda drunk, and trying to send my little brother and Spring Thomas the shitty video clips I was shooting from my cell phone.

It was that kinda night…

They fuck and suck for about 40 minutes. Well, the actual fuck/suck time was much less. The Minion had a hard time keeping his dick hard. I dunno if it was the large welts on his back from the PVC pipe, or all Alisha’s verbal abuse about how little his dick was…but he did manage to fuck and suck and blow his nut right down her throat.

So what’s the point of tonight’s blog, anyway?

Maybe the real question here is…who’s getting taken advantage of here? The poor Minion, who took some of the most severe and raunchy verbal abuse I’ve ever heard a girl yell? Poor Alisha Alighatti, who – for about 750 clams – had to suck and fuck this beast of a man…then swallow his large, sticky load? Or is it us…the ones who get to witness this car wreck?

You be the judge.

The Minion

stories from porno land (some amusing, some not), Worst of Billy Watson

Jordan O’Neal and Her Interracial Meltdown.

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Jordan O'Neal

When I was in junior high, I had a Social Studies teacher who was a total hippy. He’d play records while we were working on whatever it was we were working on that day. One of his records was “The Worst of Jefferson Airplane”, and I’d always wonder why anyone would name anything “The Worst” of…until now.

This blog’s original air date: October 16, 2005.

Jordan O’Neal and I had made the trip the the Gloryhole, and then for Spunkmouth. Both scenes turned out great. So when I booked her for a b/g/g with Spring Thomas, I thought all would go well.

Thought.

It had been about 3 or 4 months since I shot her last. I had found this shitty gloryhole near the airport, and she had no problem sucking a stranger’s dick. Home Slice had a jumbo-sized weiner, too…and it didn’t daunt her at all.

In other words, Jordan’s trip to the gloryhole was off the hook.

Since the gloryhole went so well, booking her for a Spunkmouth scene was a no-brainer. And it was a scene went down when the HIV scare was sweeping porn valley, so it was a condom scene – even though they both had clean tests. Better safe than sorry.

And again, another great scene for Jordan.

Jordan showed up for her Spring Thomas scene in a decent enough mood. I mean there was nothing to tip me off as to what was about to go down. She laid out an outfit or two; I chose the bra and panty set. While she got ready, I went over the scene: she’s going to be converted to a black cock slut by the infamous Spring Thomas. I spelled it out for her very clearly. “Be reluctant at first, and then gradually start to like it.”

Her agent, who’s there with us, had no problem with the scenario.

Jordan had no problem with the scenario.

Agent left and Jordan got ready for work. Something was definitely up as I watched her get naked. She had dropped a bunch of weight since the last time we worked. I noticed it a bit in her street clothes; naked, she was really skinny.

We all know what rapid weight loss usually means in this biz. I don’t know if this was the case with Jordan, but damn…she was so skinny if I would have seen a recent pic of her, I wouldn’t have booked her.

But here she was, and we had a scene to shoot.

5 minutes into work time, male talent is getting his dick sucked, and it’s still soft. Surprised? I wasn’t. I had worked with the guy multiple times, and I knew it was his warm-up time. 2 or 3 more minutes, and he’d be rock solid. Apparently, Jordan didn’t think so. She walked off set, upset.

I followed her a couple seconds later. “What’s wrong?”

“He doesn’t like me,” she said.

I laughed. A nice laugh. Not a you gotta be kidding me this is a porn set and it really doesn’t matter if he likes you or not we’re here to work laugh. “Come on Jordan. He likes you just fine. I’ve worked with this guy a million times. It just takes him a few to warm up. Besides, he’s worked with Spring before, so it’s not like new pussy. Once he gets to you, he’ll be rock solid.”

We walk back in. And male talent knows Jordan’s a bit uptight, but he’s cool. Spring works his dick some more, and Jordan sits down. Jordan watches Spring work male talent up; I fidgit with my camera. About a minute later, Jordan gets back up and walks out. Male talent looks at me. Spring looks at me. I wait a few, then go out to get Jordan.

“Listen. I get paid to fuck. Not fluff.”

“Um, I’m confused Jordan. Who’s asking you to fluff?”

No answer. Because no one was asking her to fluff. And now that she’s talked loud enough for male talent to hear her, I have a potential problem. Male talent has performed for me over and over, so I’m really not that worried.

“Jordan. I need you on set so when he does get hard, we can jump right into the work.”

She follows me back into set. She sees Spring still working him up. And then she turns around and walks out.

I look at Spring, who shrugs at me with a dick in her mouth. Male talent is focusing on Spring. I sigh. I walk back out.

“Jordan, is there a problem here?”

I am polite. I am calm. But I know something’s about to go down.

“I told you. I get paid to fuck. Not fluff.”

“Jordan. I’m not asking you to fluff. Have I asked you to fluff? Have you once sucked his dick yet?”

She looks at me. She looks away. She picks up her soda and takes a sip. And then she says, “You’re making me feel uncomfortable now.”

That’s all I needed to hear. In a biz where people think all we ever do is trick these girls into doing what they do…or force them into doing what they do…even mentioning the word “uncomfortable” means I’m not shooting them.

I pull the plug. Immediately. I walk over to my desk, dial Agent’s number, and tell him to come get his talent. Less than 7 minutes from when we started rolling, the scene is dead. Killed. Which kinda pissed me off, cause it was the first time I’ve ever had to kill a scene.

And when I declare it’s dead, I glance at Jordan. I watch her brain start to work, and she knows I’m serious. I don’t know if it’s because she just lost $900, or it’s the last day of the month and maybe she can’t pay her rent…I mean I don’t know what set her off, but Jordan started to scream.

She yelled and screamed about what an asshole I was. About how the male talent couldn’t get wood. How none of this was her fault. Then she started to yell about how cool Spring is. How cool the male talent is. About how cool she thought I used to be.

I tell her — calmly — she’s not making sense.

She throws her clothes around as she’s dressing, and she’s yelling more psychobabble.

(Psychobabble: is that a word? (After consulting dictionary.com, yes, it is…but I didn’t use it correctly here. Well, not really)).

I call her agent again so he can hear what’s going down, which upset her even more. As she’s making a mad scramble to scoop up all her stuff, she’s either yell — or say anything at all.

Her agent heard every word over the phone as he was en route to my studio.

And by this time all of us just stood there, looking at her. No one said anything…except Jordan.

Psychobabble.

By the time Agent arrived, Jordan’s in her car, driving down the street. Her head is hanging out her window, yelling obscenities — both at me and her agent — and flipping us off. “You stupid motherfuckerrrrrssssssssss!”

And that’s the last time I ever saw her.

I walked in. Male talent looked at me. He shook his head. Spring looked at me. She shook her head. I look at both of them and said, “well, that was certainly interesting.”

What else is there to do but turn a b/g/g into a b/g?

And in no time at all they’re fucking the shit out of each other while I held a camera.

The story of my life…

stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

Just Call Me Randall P. McMurphy, Part 2.

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Spring Thomas Interracial cougar

Since he’s no longer in porn, I think it’s OK to tell you what happened after Jason’s phone call. If you haven’t read about it yet, it’s the first part of this blog, and it should be right below this one. So you might want to read “Just Call Me Randall P. McMurphy” before you delve into Part Two.

Anyways, Jason was good on his word. The next day he came to my studio to show me his “something”. When the buzzer rang, I thought it was one of the dudes for the Blow Bang I was about to shoot; instead, it was Jason Brown. And, being the kind of person I tend to be, I welcomed him in to my studio.

Without looking at anyone, Jason said, “Billy! I need to talk to you…NOW!” He pointed at the sofa and demanded I sit down. He took off his jacket and pulled off his back pack and tossed it on to that sofa, then he put his cell phone down on top of all his other stuff, and then he looked at my bookkeeper and ordered her to leave the room…immediately.

I looked at him and said, “Who the fuck do you think you are, bro?” Then I told him, “This is my office. That is my employee. Never, ever walk into my place of business and tell me or any of my co-workers what to do.”

He apologized, and I walked him back to the front door and out to the street.

Then, he started. First, he showed me the thing he had to show me — his athletic uniform. It’s a very special thing to him, and as he started to explain to me why his jersey is so important — as well as the number on his jersey — a clock was ticking in my head. He had exactly five more seconds to tell me whatever it was he needed to tell me, which, of course, was never going to happen. If I gave him an hour, I don’t think he could cover all the territory he felt he needed to cover. He talked about Manchester-United, which I remember from a Rod Stewart song, and his dreams and aspirations when he was a child, and then, when he started in with more of the oxymoron talk, I told him to have a great day.

He begged for me to listen. I walked back in, grabbed his stuff, and handed it to him. I wished him luck, and he threw everything on the ground and told me to wait…he had something that, to him, signified his career in porn, and he wanted to give it to me as a symbol of his retirement. I rolled my eyes, shut the door, and locked it. His stuff lay there, in the public foyer, and I didn’t give a fuck. I walked back in to the studio to see how my crew was coming along with their paperwork, and to see how long until the Porn Whore was out of the make-up chair.

Just then my buzzer rang again.

I opened the door, and Jason handed me what he needed to hand me, and then he bolted past me, and into my office.

“Dude, you need to leave,” I said.

“No! Absolutely not!! I have to go back into your studio and talk to the guys!!! I need to tell them The Truth!”

“Dude, you need to leave. Now.”

Jason screamed. “BILLY! DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!” and then he made a mad dash for the Blow Bangers — all eight of them. And the Porn Whore.

I stood there, dumbfounded, and contemplated my next move. And just as fast as he went to the studio, he was back, and out my door. He scooped up his stuff and hauled ass.

Maybe Tone Capone and The Crew mad dogged him out of there?

Then, I got a text, apologizing for his actions. And to me, nothing works better than an apology, cause no one does that sort of thing anymore. At least it seems that way to me.

So I shot my Blow Bang, and I went about my business.

Later, I was making my way home after a long day, and I was thinking how fucking weird my life is, and here’s Jason Brown — once more — calling to tell me something.

I like Jason Brown. Even after all this, I really do. He’s been one of my best guys going on 5 years now. A “go-to” guy. He always showed up on time, never really had a problem on set, and did pretty much whatever we needed to get done. That’s one of the reasons I answered his call.

The other was just to hear what was coming next…and oh, boy, was it worth it.

“I fucked up,” he said. “I was a total asshole.”

“Yea, well…we all have bad days,” I said.

“No, dude, you don’t understand. I really fucked up. I simply misread the signals He sent me. I thought it had something to do with you, but I was wrong.”

Uh huh. You heard me. I couldn’t believe it, either, so I asked, “Jason, does God send you signals?”

Jason said yes, and he misread the ones he had just received, and he apologized once more. “It wasn’t meant for you.”

Then I asked him, “Hey, Jason…ever feel the Porno Biz has skull fucked you so hard that your brains have turned to mush?”

“Yea,” he said.

To which I concurred.

Just then I looked up and saw the green neon lights of the Vista Theater. It’s one of my very favorite places in Los Angeles…for a few reasons: I’ve sat next to some of my very closet friends in that place and watched some great films; its Egyptian facade restored to its past splendor makes it a place I’d go and sit through a movie just because…of that place. And in the 70’s, it was a seedy porno house; I even scored a leaflet at a Paper & Ephemera show advertising the weekly stag flick at the Vista. Before it was a stag house, Ed Wood Jr. — one of my very favorite film makers — kept an office right above the theater.

I wonder if Ed Wood’s actors received signals from God.

Maybe Ed Wood himself talked to God. How else would you explain the masterpiece that is Plan 9 from Outer Space?

stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

Just Call Me Randall P. McMurphy.

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Spring Thomas Interracial cougar

I just hung up the phone with Jason Brown. He called to tell me that, in addition to not being able to make tomorrow’s blow bang, he was retiring from porn altogether.

Effective immediately.

Jason Brown is male talent, and I don’t talk a whole lot about male talent; even though they’re just as whacky as the female talent…mainly cause they’re lacking mammary glands and a vagina, so you really don’t wanna hear about the dudes, right?

But this one is just too good to pass up.

That’s Jason sitting next to Spring Thomas, and he’s about to bang the shit out of her. Jason’s really great talent, and he’s a nice guy…but tonight’s phone call got really fucking weird.

“Hey Billy, you got a sec? Cause we need to talk.”

I know Jason well enough to know he likes to talk a lot, and it takes him a while to get to the point, and I just wasn’t in the mood. “Are you coming to the blow bang tomorrow or not?”

“That’s what we need to talk to you about. Tell me something…are you happy with your life?”

Uh huh. As in uh huh, this is really where the conversation was going, and I knew it was gonna get interesting. And, like I said, I wasn’t in the mood to fuck around with him on the phone. “Dude, it’s a yes-no answer. That makes it simple. It certainly isn’t rocket science. Are you coming to the blow bang tomorrow or not?”

Jason said, “No, I’m not, and, in fact, I’m quitting porn.”

This kinda surprised me, which made me all ears: “OK, I’m listening. What’s up, Jason?”

Jason asked, “Do you know a lot about the world?”

To which I replied, “Is this a trick question?”

“No man, I’m serious.”

“Well, I thought I knew a few things about the way the world works, but after being in porn a few years, and spending time with people who make their living in the sex business, I’d say I’m back to learning more and more. What’s on your mind Jason?””

Then Jason asked me, “Are you a happy person?”

I had a pretty good idea what was coming next, but the anticipation was just killing me…so I went with it. “Yea, I guess. For the most part. What’s on your mind Jason?”

“Do you know what an oxymoron is?”

I kid you not. I wish I was making this shit up, or exaggerating…but nope. Neither. “Um, yea, I think I have a pretty good understanding of oxymorons. What’s on your mind Jason?”

“I love you Billy. This is why I need to talk to you. About oxymorons, and this Earth, and if you think you’re a good person — or a bad person. You know good and bad, right? It’s an oxymoron, and I think you need to be a good person on this Earth. You’re a good person, I think. Do you think you’re good, or bad? And are you happy with what you’re doing?”

I kid you not. I wish I was making this shit up, or exaggerating…so, in order to fuck with him a little, I said something like, “I have good days and bad days. I try and treat people with courtesy and respect. And I think I know a better oxymoron for you to think about, but it’s the cliché of oxymorons, so I hope it doesn’t disappoint you — so here goes. Jumbo shrimp.”

“Exactly!” he said. “That’s what I’m talking about! When a person tells you one thing and brings you something else!!”

I kid you not. I wish I was making this shit up…or exaggerating. But I’m not. And so far, I have no fucking idea what Jason is saying to me, but I think I know what direction he’s going. Cause all of a sudden he’s talking about God — in addition to oxymorons, the good and the bad, the Earth, and his overwhelming need to “show me something”.

Oh, and jumbo shrimp. I’m just glad I didn’t bring up military intelligence.

“What theology do you want to talk to me about, Jason?”

“It’s not that. I just need to show you something!”

“What specific theology would you like to talk about, Jason?”

“No dude, you’re not listening to me!”

I repeated myself, again.

“Look, I’m a Christian, and I believe in God, and I really need to show you something.”

To which I replied, “Jason, I’m late. I’m meeting some friends for dinner. I wish you nothing but success and good fortune with your future endeavors. Take care of yourself and — ”

I was about to say good luck, but he was gone. Jason had either hung up on me, or he had lost his signal. So I called him back, cause if that Silly Mofo hung up on me, I was gonna be pissed.

So I called him back. “Jason, did you just hang up on me?”

“What just happened Billy? Can you tell me what just happened?!”

I couldn’t wait to hear. Really…I couldn’t. This was the best shit I’ve heard since, well…let’s see. It’s the best shit I’ve heard since another dude I used to shoot told me I wear t-shirts on set with the sole purpose of “fucking with his head”.

“Let’s see. Um…either you hung up on me, or you lost your signal.”

“I hung up on you, but there’s a reason I hung up on you!”

So, as Jason tried to explain “realities” and “perceptions” to me, I thought about Ken Kesey’s great novel, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. You might have read the book; I’m sure you saw the movie.

Cause, for a quick moment, I had this totally surreal thought in which I suddenly became the main character of Kesey’s book, and all these fucking crazies who have surrounded me now for years had made me as crazy as they are.

Or am I the one who’s truly whacked out of his skull — and they’re sane?

The thought only lasted a few more seconds before I cut Jason off and wished him luck and all the other nice things I mentioned earlier — like future endeavors and good fortune.

Then I grabbed my gear and hauled ass to dinner, cause this whole silly ordeal lasted way longer than it should have. And now I’m kinda pissed, cause I have to spend my dinner time calling various black dudes to see which one of them wants to get paid to get their dick sucked tomorrow morning.

Blacks on Cougars, stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

In Which I Bang A Coog At A Swinger’s Party.

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Nina Hartley Interracial cougar

Stories of sexual conquests are nothing more than tall tales from an insecure braggart, so keep that in mind when I tell you about the time I banged Joey Lynn at a swinger’s party a while back.

And how can they be “conquests” when there really wasn’t any sort of conquering going on?

At least not in my case.

Before I go any further I’d like to say Pavement is one of the greatest bands to come out of the 90’s, and, while they might not be as important as, say, Nirvana, they’re just as fucking great. And it seems almost no one wants to remember them, but I’m judging that solely on their mySpace stats and their lack of radio time on Sirius Radio.

35 friends?

Are you kidding me?

Maybe it’s a fake mySpace? I dunno.

Maybe mySpace is done?

And it’s all about Facebook now?

Pavement’s mySpace certainly looks real, cause Stephen Malkmus is their top friend.

I was lucky enough to watch them play a gig in Phoenix way back in ’94, I think. Maybe 1993. And I bring this all up cause when I blog I play my music loud, and this time it’s Brighten The Corners.

And I was listening to Sirius’s “Lithium” channel on my way to pick up Joey Lynn for our night out, and wondering when (and if) I’d ever catch a Pavement song.

Our night out included a movie…and then on to a swinger’s party.

A swinger’s party. Can you believe it?

I met Joey a few days before I shot her for Blacks on Cougars. Agents do thing thing called “Go-Sees”. I can’t remember if I ever told you about them, but they’re basically what they sound like they’d be: an agent (pimp) drives a bunch of wanna-be porn starlets (whores) around to various directors (pervy pornographers) in order to get them work.

Joey Lynn was one of my Go-Sees, and I liked her, so I booked her, and then I shot her, and we became friends, and a few days later her agent called me to say Joey wanted me to accompany her to a swinger’s party that was going down in Porn Valley that weekend.

I’d never been to a Swinger’s Party before, and I dunno if you have, but let me tell you they’re kinda weird.

No…they’re really fucking weird.

The people are nice enough, but the whole thing is this kind of contrived show in which regular people fuck in front of each other for the sport of it. I think that’s the way I wanna put it. Which is to say — in this particular instance — I walked into a house party with Joey (which happened to be right across the street from Bobby Brown’s house) and there’s food and drink and people kinda hanging out in small groups and even though everyone’s small talking and doing the same shit everyone does at a house party what they’re really waiting for is someone to start fucking…presumably so they can start fucking, too.

Which makes for this weird, contrived feeling I told you about a second ago…cause I dunno how else to explain it.

All these swinger couples network, too, mostly on internet message boards. And they all have fake names — kinda like porn star names…but not always. Some of them are really dumb names, too, and I wish I could remember a couple so I could tell you now, but I don’t.

As we walked around the house, we started walking into rooms where couples were fucking. If I wasn’t a porno director, I’d find it completely weird and surreal all at the same time, but since I make smut for a living, I’d simply call this a surreal experience. Some rooms had just a couple fucking while other rooms had a few couples fucking. And we’d walk in, watch them for a few minutes, and then walk out.

Big whoop.

But that’s about the time Joey asked me if I wanted to fuck, and I kinda did — but I kinda didn’t, either. I’ve always thought sex was a spontaneous thing and something that isn’t a “plan”, and this whole night was planned, and to me it wasn’t as hot as, say, walking into a normal house party that turned into a freak show…but that never really happens, I suppose.

So we found a comfy place and started to get it on. By “comfy” I mean no one was around, but it certainly was out in the open, and sure enough, the second we started doing it people started lurking around to watch us, which added to my surreal experience in all sorts of ways.

Who the fuck wants to watch me get in on with anyone?

What if someone totally shitty jumps in? Am I suppose to just pretend like it ain’t happening and just keep going?

How am I measuring up? (In more ways than one).

My wiener stayed hard, and we got it on a while, and people came and went, and then Joey asked if I wanted to go to a more private place, and I was all for that.

Once there, Joey asked, “Would you take a picture with my cell phone of your dick in my mouth so I can send it to my husband?”

“Um, sure”, I said. Joey sent it off, and a few minutes later I was taking all sorts of pictures of my dick in Joey’s holes and Joey sent them off to Hubby as fast as I could snap them and hand her the phone.

“Oh! He loves these! Now he wants you to cream pie me! Don’t worry, I’m fixed!”

One of the definitions of “surreal”: having the disorienting, hallucinatory quality of a dream; unreal; fantastic: surreal complexities of the bureaucracy.

Or, the surreal complexities of A Swinger’s Party.

An hour or so after our cell-phone photo session, we went and got a late-night dinner at a restaurant on Ventura. Usually I like breakfast for dinner (especially this late at night) but I think I opted for a 1/2 corned beef sandwich (lean) on rye with some Grey Poupon and a Diet Coke.

Like all the porno whores, Joey didn’t eat a thing, even though she ordered some food; I just can’t remember what it was.