Nothing To Do With Porn, stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

Eat A Peach

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Blacks On Blondes

There’s times I have absolutely no interest in writing about spunkmouth, eating ass, gloryholes, interracial sex, or handjobs. This is one of those times. I don’t even feel like writing about Spring Thomas, which is kinda funny, cause most of the time she’s all I ever feel like writing about.

Instead I’m sitting at home, it’s Friday night, and the Phoenix Forum – the internet porno industry’s big deal convention where people from all over the place come to where I live and networknetworknetwork – is happening less than a mile away, and instead of being there, I’m home, with absolutely no interest in going to CCBill’s party where internet porn girls are probably dancing topless at some bar on Mill Avenue and the drinks are free (CCBill is paying for them).

Oh, sure…I was there all day, and sure, I networked…whatever that means. But that sort of shit is tiring, and I’m pooped. Too pooped to drink more and look at more nekkid girls. I got to watch all the Lightspeed girls play dodgeball in the nude, so I think I’m all good.

Maybe I’m just in one of those moods. I fall into it every now and then, mostly when I’m kinda on the edge of melancholy, and a blue funk is coming up. I have no idea why it comes on, but I think it’s a natural part of life, and I accept it. And when it’s about to hit, I find myself over my turntable, listening to as many records as I can…and I always end up with a particular record in hand. And before I get to specifically what record that is, I have to preface what I’m about to write with this: I have no real interest in the band about I’m to write about; I don’t listen to anything else they’ve really recorded…ever; and, in fact, if someone, say, 5 years ago would have told me I would have any sort of interest in this band, I’d have laughed at them.

The Allman Brother’s record Eat A Peach is spinning, specifically on side 3, and I’ve listened to it now 4 times tonight…twice before I started writing this, once while I thought hey, maybe I should blog about side 3 of Eat A Peach, and now, I’m playing it again, while I blog, as loud as my old tube amp will let me play it. I’m sure I’ll play it two or three more times before I’m done.

Side 3. For the few of you still listening to records, you know what I’m talking about; for everyone else, it’s the five songs that start with “One Way Out” and end with “Little Martha”.

Sometimes I hate admitting to being addicted to vinyl, cause there’s this kind of snobbery now that comes with that territory – both a musical snobbery as well as the one almost all audiophiles carry with them. And I poo-poo both every chance I get. I like records because that’s what I listened to growing up. That’s about it, really. I like their oversized packaging, cause since 1985 I’ve been buying CD’s, and you know they’re way smaller than a 12 inch record, and I really like gatefold packaging (the records that fold out when you open them) and I love the booklets and shit they put in there, and the a lot of the art work and liner notes and pictures that came in the gatefold, cause now all that shit is gone with CD packaging.

Well, most of it, anyway.

But what I need to talk about is Eat A Peach, and specifically side 3, cause there’s a great story behind the record, and I think side 3 encompasses everything that’s great about the record…a record so great Rolling Stone threw it in their top 100 list of all time…if that sort of thing means anything to you at all.

“One Way Out” is all about infidelity, and being lonely, and it’s something I think we all know about; “Trouble No More” a Muddy Waters cover song that, if you know about Muddy Waters, doesn’t need any more commentary than that; “Stand Back” is about failed relationships, and again, something we all know about; “Blue Sky” does an about-face on the previous three songs, celebrating love and relationships; and the final song, “Little Martha”, is Duane Allman’s acoustic masterpiece, and he’s its sole author…something that’s never happened on an Allman Brothers’ record before or after.

Ending side 3 with that song was Greg Allman’s tribute to his brother Duane, who was killed not too long after it was recorded.

Of course I can’t be sure of that. But I do know that Duane was killed while they were making this record, riding his motorcycle in Georgia, where he lived…something I’m sure he loved almost as much as playing guitar, and it’s said Duane wrote “Little Martha” for a groupie he was banging at the time, after Jimi Hendrix showed the song to him in a dream…and it’s named after a little girl who died seventy some odd years before Duane did; they both ended up in the same cemetary.

I dunno how much of what I learned about “Little Martha” is true, but listening to that song, and imagining that everything I know about it is true…well, maybe it’s the reason I’m not out looking at topless porno girls while CCBill buys me booze.

And somehow, as a whole, side 3 pulls me out of where my blue funk, and makes things seem a little better, and I think it’s all cause of that about-face that Greg pulled with “Blue Sky” and “Little Martha”.

OK, I’m all done, and so is side 3. I promise, tomorrow, to get back to cum splattered girls and greasy, gooey handjobs.

I promise.

stories from porno land (some amusing, some not), Whatever Happened to Her?

Nikki Lake

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Leili

I’ve heard someone say she’s the splitting image of the 24 and Girl Next Door Star star Elisha Cuthbert, but I wouldn’t know, cause I’ve never watched those shows. In fact, I really don’t watch TV, except Bill Maher’s show on HBO, and South Park, and VH1 Classics, and lately, Dave Letterman.

Damn, Dave’s getting funny again. I haven’t watched the show since maybe 1994, when it was getting kinda boring, but for some reason I set my TIVO thingy for a week’s worth of Dave recently, just to see what he’s been up to, and either I caught him on a really strong week, or his show is just really good again. I dunno for sure though, cause I haven’t been home in almost a month, so I’ll watch the 15 or so shows that are on my TIVO thingy and see if they’re as good.

Anyway, I met Nikki Lake at A’s mountain top bachelor pad a few years ago. She was stripping then, I think, but I’m not 100% sure about that. She was hanging out at A’s – that’s for sure. And I immediately asked her if she’d be interested in making some dirty movies, and almost as immediately as my asking her that she said no.

No. No way. Not interested. But thanks.

And then she walked away.

I saw her some more over there, and we talked, but I never really brought it up again. Then one day she called me and asked if she could make one.

A dirty movie, that is…

I mean I think that’s how it went, cause looking back at it now, I really don’t remember. Maybe Spring can help me out here, cause they were pals for a short time, or maybe Sophia can help me out there, cause they were pals for a short while…but I can’t help myself here – that’s for sure.

Here’s a fun fact: Nikki Lake was the very first girl shot for our (then) new site, JOMG. I was kinda into the idea of having my dick sucked on camera back then, so I POV’d it, and I dragged poor Nikki into a public restroom in a park in the middle of suburbia, in the middle of a very hot summer day…so we really didn’t worry about getting caught.

And we didn’t.

And I quickly grew out of having my dick sucked on camera soon thereafter. But boy, did I jizz on her glasses. Big time. I even surprised myself. And Nikki was a sport about it, and she laughed, and we cleaned her off and marched her right outta that place and into afternoon traffic…it was interesting.

She liked it enough to come back. I dunno if it was the thrill of getting blasted in the face with man goo, or the thrill of making really quick, easy money; I’m guessing the latter.

This time, I booked her for Spunkmouth, and I had Doctor Z – this cat we were using for a while as male talent – fuck her silly. Not only did he fuck her silly, but he plowed her ass, too. Fun, huh? One of the first times I shot an anal scene! And Nikki Lake loved every second of it. Here’s a few Spunkmouth Nikki Lake movies just to prove I’m right.

Anyways, I saw Nikki a few times after that. We hung out once or twice; I went over to her place for a popsicle, and we chatted about all the things there were to chat about back then.

Last time I heard from her, she was back stripping, and she needed some money, but I didn’t have any work for her at all, so she hung up, and that was that.

Leili

Super Fun E-mails

Super fun e-mails.

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Dogfart's Mansion

Ricki K. writes:

G’Day Billy.

I have been viewing your site for a few months now and have a question and a statement i wish to put forward. Anyway, the question first.

We all know how the female pornstars think of their jobs and how they feel about being a whore. But, how does the male pornstar feel? Do they seem to hate their job and only do it for the money or what? I have a feeling that most of them would love their job though…

And the statement. I hate when cameraman talk, or more notably commentate the scene. (i.e, cameramen going “Going to lick it before you dick it”), what i am getting at is there much protocol for if cameramen should talk or if they should just stay out of it?

Cheers

G’Day, Ricky!

All the male talent in this business love what they do. They should, cause they’re sex addicts.

Oh sure, it’s silly to make a statement that’s totally overgeneralized like that, but really, they do….and they are. Some quit after a spell, but most of the time they quit cause even though they might have pulled off a few good scenes early in their career, they developed wood problems, and were forced out.

And don’t get me wrong – there’s nothing wrong with being a sex addict, as long as you don’t fuck up anyone but yourself, right? And the male talent in this business are, for the most part, working their addiction the safest and best way that can be expected.

Not to change the subject, but ever notice most of the males in the biz are the same dudes you’ve been seeing since about 1986?

Peter North.

Randy West.

Ton Byron.

TT Boy.

Julian St. Jox.

Shit, even Ron Jeremy still gets work. TT Boy really doesn’t anymore, but he could if he wanted to; same with Randy West.

There’s a reason for this, my friend. It takes a special guy to fuck in front of a camera and keep wood even when he doesn’t like the girl he’s fucking, for whatever reason that may be. In fact, it takes such a special guy that most aren’t that special.

And these special guys love their job, and they do it for the money as well as to fuck a brand new girl (almost) everyday, and that’s about the sum of it.

And yea…I hate it too when a camera guy blathers on and on while shooting a scene…and I wonder, sometimes, why I do it so much.

PS: Take a look at this heet I shot for her website a few weeks ago. Her name’s Carli Banks, and looking at her makes me wanna be a total sex addict.

stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

Female Ejaculation…Urban Myth or Very Real?

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Riley's on JOMG

We were putting together what would be the initial scenes for our newest site – Eat Some Ass – and we needed our female talent to be strong…that is to say, not squeemish about things like putting their tounges up a dude’s ass.

I was checking out Angela Stone on her agent’s site cause she had a good reputation for putting on a strong scene, and I liked her trashy blonde look. Her agent said she’s absolutely love to eat some man ass, so I booked her immediately.

I had no idea she had the ability to make her pussy squirt like a firehose.

I won’t even bother with the sordid details of her fucking and sucking; Angela Stone did so like a champ. I won’t even really bother with the ass eating details, either. I mean I could…she lapped the male talent’s bung hole like a thristy dog over a bowl of water.

It’s just that I had no idea she had the ability to make her pussy squirt like a firehose.

The first time it happened, I thought to myself whoa, did she just make her pussy squirt? I mean it was a squirt, but not a huge squirt…more like she might have leaked out a Number One in all the excitement.

I kept my mouth shut and let the camera rool as she sucked dick.

The second squirt was the firehosesque squirt, and it blasted all the way across the room: it went all over the bed, my camera, me, Angela, the male talent…

Firehoseque.

I think I just invented a word.

Angela’s third squirt was more like her first, and by that time she was so exasperated it was good the scene was coming to The Money Shot.

My ex claims she can squirt, and I’ll admit she a soaking wet pussy…but she didn’t squirt.

Angela Stone’s vagina squirts, and let me make this perfectly clear: it ain’t Number One. I know…I pulled the bedding off and hauled it to the dirty hamper, and on the way I snuck a whiff or two.

Nope to urine, pee-pee, and Number One. 100% pussy juice, my friend.

That bedding was soaked, and not a hint of anything that smelled like anything…which is my fancy way of saying the bedding didn’t smell.

I’ve seen this phenom more than once…but no more than 5 times. Once or twice it happened at Dogfart’s secret mansion while filming scenes for Blacks On Blondes…I think the Friday scene, in particular, caught her squirting. (But I’d never really had the chance to inspect the aftermath like I did after Angela’s performance.) I’ve seen it once or twice in my private life, too. My pal A. claimed to have the ability to make “any girl” squirt, and he did so once in front of me at The Producer’s house…she was a stripper and she even let me practice on her while A coached me on…but I didn’t make her squirt.

It’s all in the finger motion; it’s more like a the way your mom put her finger up when she was pissed and motioned for you to “come here” than it is like the way most of us dopes finger a chick – that penis-like pistion finger fucking action.

After A’s help and the stripper who was kind enough to let me practice on her, I’ve tried, and tried, and tried…and while I’ve made a few girls’ eyes roll up into the back of their heads, and I’ve made some of them make moaning sounds like cows in heat, I’ve never made any of them squirt.

But it’s really something to see.

Whatever Happened to Her?

Lain Oi

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Dogfart's Mansion

Lain Oi’s from Arizona.

I’m from Arizona.

Before Lain was Lain, she was something else, but I can’t remember what that stage name was. Her real name is a total hippie fest. I think her parents met at Woodstock, dropped lots of acid for the years that followed, and named her after one of the seasons, or a planet, or a spicy herb.

I’m kidding, of course…well, kinda.

So a long time ago I took Lain over to one of the gloryholes in Phoenix we used to shoot at. It was near the airport, and it was just as you’d imagine – a filthy place that no one really ever imagine themselves being…unless they were gay and cruising for sex, or part of a website that featured straight people doing something gay people made infamous.

When she walked into the place, I was worried she’d be appalled; instead, she found it funny. That’s one of the things I liked about Lain. We shot our scene, she did great, and I shipped the scene off to The Producer, and that’s the last anyone ever saw of it.

But this gets better.

After the gloryhole, Lain and I went back to my ghetto studio, where Boz The Animal was waiting, and he pounded her silly for Blacks On Blondes. I mean he laid some serious black pipe that day, and Lain, who (I think) was a bit intimidated by Boz (cause she was kinda acting all quiet and reserved around him at first) was screaming like a banchie by the end of the scene. She came so much all over Boz’s dick I think it was whiter than mine.

Boz’s dick, that is.

We shot our scene, she did great, and I shipped the scene off to The Producer, and that’s the last anyone ever saw of it.

That is, to say, both scenes were lost, and to this day have never been found, and that’s that – I guess.

So let’s fast forward now, about a year and a half later, when Lain’s now moved on from little Arizona to Big Los Angeles, and she’s working for a very large agency, and she’s working for some very large porno companies, and I decide, since those scenes were lost, and I really, really love Lain’s look, that I’d book her again for another Gloryhole.

I should have booked her for everything else I shoot, too…cause Lain’s got this beauty that I can’t quite put my finger on; add to that her personality, and damn, she’s fun to be around.

So we went again, this time to a gloryhole in Los Angeles, and she had a blast, and we did our thang, and that’s that.

And that’s the last time I ever saw her. She’s no longer on the very big agency’s website, and I don’t see her on any other agency’s site, so I’m thinking she’s all done with this crazy business, and that, for the most part, is a very good thing.

Super Fun E-mails

Super Fun e-mails (and more Riley Mason…cause really, who can get enough Riley?)

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Riley's on JOMG

joel writes:

i just had to let you know your comments on indie rockers were too funny. I live in Seattle, in the heart of hipsterville. You’re totally right to poke fun at the whole scene.

However, the majority of guys that are hanging around online looking for an actresses’ AOL screen name probably never had much of a life to begin with – indie or not.

I found your blog while doing a search on Riley and I agree she’s hot as shit right now. But unless I’m in LA & run into her at a bar I’m okay with appreciating her thru your work. I get laid regularly, my best friend’s a stripper, I’m into punk rock & I’ll buy a girl a drink – some of us ARE well-adjusted.. and love beautiful sex-friendly girls like Riley..even if we do wear black framed glasses

thanks man, have a great day!

-joel

While I’m at it, why not include M’s recent correspondance, too:

the whole Riley Mason debate…would have left a comment directly on your blog, but couldn’t figure out to register. (What’s the deal there? Am I getting dumber or what?) Anyway, here it is:

Not really sure what kind of comments Riley Mason has been receiving from “Indie Rock Dudes” or whatever, but you’re probably spot on when you say that it’s because they like her. Riley Mason has a look that suggests that she would be well into the Indie/Punk scene or whatever. She kind of indulges some libidinous fantasy for these guys, and they get into her, but then suffer from some sort of schism when they get to thinking that she’s just a porno actress and it’s just a job for her, and that it’s onto the next shoot for her.

Either that, or they’ve got some issue with her supposed legitimacy, i.e. “Indie” credentials or whatever. But people who pull that sort of one upmanship are obviously just twats anyway, so no need to worry about that.

Besides, isn’t that whole Suicide Girls thing quasi-porn for quasi-indie rockers? Don’t really rate that one either, but shouldn’t these people be having a fit over that one instead?

Perhaps a Freudian analyst could figure out what these people are on about, but what would be the point?

Porn is what it is. The good, the bad, and the ugly of it. You either like it, or you don’t. (The same thing could be said about Indie Rock, or Jazz, or Romance Novels, or militant Veganism, or whatever.) But there’s no need to go about slagging one particular performer or person if that happens to be there thing. Just let it alone.

Anyway, if Riley Mason is happy and comfortable with what she’s doing, well, more power to her. She may be in the game for just a short while, or she might make a career out of it. Who knows? Everyone’s path is a bit different. My only advice to her would be to watch her step as it can sometimes be a dodgy business, and to stay away from all the nose candy. Enjoy the cash she’s making now, but also make sure she puts some of it aside for a rainy day. Be sensible, cause it doesn’t always last forever.

As for Dennis Moore (soon ever lupin in the land will be in his mighty hand?) Why not keep the toys in the pram next time?

– – – – –

Hope you’ll see fit to throw my two cents onto your blog.

cheers,
M from Japan

To Joel, and M, and anyone else who cares:

In the fall of 1980 – October, to be exact – my pal Pat Crane lent me two records: London Calling and Singles Going Steady. Both records would change the way I listened to – and thought about – music. It was about that time I ventured into my first used record store. Who’d a thought of such a thing? Selling used records? I guess the reason I bring this up is cause I’ve been around this whole “Indie” thing long before it was ever called Indie. Let’s see…it was punk rock for a bit, then new wave, then college radio, then grunge, then alternative rock…whatever. One of my best friends owns a very sucessful used record store where I call home.

I guess the reason I’m telling you this is cause I know indie dudes, I understand where they’re coming from, and I really respect their whole scene. Always have, always will.

I think this was one of the reasons I was immediately attracted to Riley Mason, and the reason I booked her when she first popped up into the porno scene. To me she had indie rock written all over her, and that’s before I knew what she listened to.

As a matter of fact, I still don’t know what she listens to.

Enter Hipinion. It’s just another posting board, this time dedicated to indie rockers everywhere. The guys who frequent this place are the ones going ga-ga over poor Riley. And in addition to picking up on Riley, they’ve picked up on my blog…and trashed me around a bit, along with Riley, and had their indie rock fun. In fact, I had to make registration a much tougher deal after a proposed “takeover” from a few of the nuttier ones from that board.

To this day, I still don’t know what I said to piss them off. Oh yea, I called them a “nutty bunch”, but shit, that’s what they’re all about. They certainly aren’t “normal”, nor would ever consider themselves to be…in fact, calling them a “normal bunch” should be way more offensive than what I said.

I’ve blabbered on long enough about these cats, and Joel in Seattle and M in Japan are 100% right, both with their views and in calling me 100% right, so there.

Porn is what it is. M.’s very right…and Riley is what she is, and I’m what I am…and you like it, or you don’t. The ones who get me worried are the ones who obsess over the things they don’t agree with.

They are the ones who, in the end, turn out to be bad.

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Gone fishin’

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gone fishin'

I need it. I’m gone. Outta here.

I was gonna try and write a week’s worth of blogs, but –

a) they’d probably suck, cause they’d be forced, and I’d be pulling them out of my ass, trying to cover a week’s worth of stuff in a day

and

2) I need some time away from blogging, as well as all things porn: agents, producers, booking, editing, shooting, flaky porno girls.

That sort of stuff.

Oh sure, I could pick a bunch of random scenes and bladda-bladda-blah about them, but that’s no fun, is it? Which is not to say I ain’t done that before. (You can always count on a pornographer for double negatives).

In the meantime, feel free to poke around my archives – or go back to surfing TGPs and free porn. I’ll be back March 21 (or so), unless I decide to cash all my porno chips in and go buy a used bookstore somewhere. Or maybe buy a boat in Belize or Costa Rica and take people scuba diving, or go teach people how to write essays and research papers again.

Cause that’s the kind of mood I’m in right now.

stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

The Pornographer’s Work Week.

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Blacks On Blondes

My past work week. Feel free to compare it to yours. I’m sure you won’t see much that’s different.

Monday: Spend 6 hours in the car, travelling to my work location, and dealing with porno biz – mostly two shoots from my newest site, Eat Some Ass. I hired out the cameraman, but still…talent’s really late. So late I’m thinking it’s a no-show, so I’m dialing around to replace her, but she shows – over two hours late. Then unload equipment into studio. Kinda sucks, cause it’s only me, and the studio’s on the second floor, and there’s a fair amount of gear. I’m tried and kinda grumpy and just want to crash.

Tuesday: Two scenes today. Page Morgan, a fairly new starlet, will be featured in both. I think I told you I liked Page when I met her cause she’s really the typical white trash porn girl, and she has a tat on her arm that says “The Clash” and some of the lyrice from one of their songs. That’s worth a job, right? Actually, two jobs: Blacks On Blondes and the Erin Moore alter-ego site Ruth Blackwell. I had Page dress like a snowbunny, cause the black male talent called her just that – a snowbunny. And I had no idea what a snowbunny was…

“What’s a snowbunny dude?”

“That’s what the black girls called the white girls in middle school and in high school. Like, I’d ask my black girlfriend to do something sexy for me, and she’d say something like ‘go find a snowbunny to do that for you!'”

“So a snowbunny is a black girl’s term for a white slut?”

“Exactly bro.”

I shoot my scenes, grab some dinner (alone) and head back to the studio (alone) and crash, cause I’m tired and kinda grumpy.

Wednesday: Phoebe’s back, this time for the Erin Moore alter-ego site Ruth Blackwell; after we wrap, we jump in the van and head to my favorite seedy adult bookshop for a Gloryhole scene. I’m excited cause some filthy perv’s drilled an ARM HOLE in the wall, so now they can fondle as well as get sucked off…like getting sucked off wasn’t enough.

Phoebe stuck around and got some jizz on her glasses, too. Actually, it went everywhere, including her glasses.

As I wrap from that, Delilah Strong calls. She’s hurting, both physcially and metaphorically. She has no money, and some big-dicked MoFo drilled her in the cakes so hard recently, she broke her butthole. It hurt so much (and I won’t talk about it bleeding cause that’s kinda gross) that she finally went to the doctor…and doctor’s orders: no more sex of any kind until your bunghole is all healed up.

Delilah: “Do you have anything I can do that doesn’t require getting fucked?”

Of course I do, my love.

Delilah: “Can I come over and do it now?”

Of course you can, my love.

The result: a ManoJob and oh, guess what? She got some jizz on her glasses, too.

Then I rush off to the airport to pick up Spring Thomas. From there I rush to one of my very favorite restaurants in LA: House of Pies. MMMMMMmmmmm. House of Pies. I was a good boy, though, cause I’m trying to lose a couple pounds…so I went with the Cobb Salad. And a slice of strawberry pie.

Since it’s a fruit-based pie, it’s good for me, right?

Then I drive ST around town cause there’s some sort of fucked up convention in town, and all the hotels are booked. I finally find one. It’s midnight, I’m tired and kinda grumpy, so after ST checks into her room, I drive back to the studio and crash.

Thursday: ST’s in town. But somehow, I think you know this story already.

Afterwards, I was tired and grumpy, so I crashed.

Friday: Two more for Blacks on Blondes – Sandra Romaine in the morning, then Megan Jones for my afternoon scene. And I’m gonna be honest here when I tell you Chico Wang’s filthy mind has kinda of rubbed off on my own, so I’m starting to copy his multiple-pop thing in my scenes. That is to say, as my female talent fucks my male talent, out of nowhere I have 3 guys walk on the set and just blow a load in the girl’s face. No rhyme, no reason. I tell my load dumpers to just step up to the plate and unload whenever they please. Then, they are free to leave. Which isn’t exactly what Chico does, but it’s close enough to say I’m stealing his idea. Add a few cuckolds in the mix, and I’m thinking the members at Blacks on Blondes should stay happy…and no, Chico doesn’t use cuckolds, so I guess that makes me kinda original, right?

I’d like to say right now that Sandra Romain is one of the craziest, wildest chicks I’ve ever shot. Why not throw in that Megan Jones shows up with her period in tow, so we had to improvise on ways to clog that up…she went with something she called “inserts” but they didn’t work, so I showed her my make-up sponge trick. No more blood, and we’re golden.

Later, it’s dinner with Cherry Poppens, who lent me a hand throughout the day. Afterwards, we stopped at this newstand in West Hollywood and laughed at the gay magazines.

After saying bye to Cherry in the parking lot (peck on the cheek and a hug) I’m back up in the studio, to pack all my gear. And more editing. I mean it’s not a work day unless you clock at least 12 hours, right? Suddenly, I notice I’m tired and grumpy.

Saturday: Up at 7 to check on some FTP uploads and drag my gear down to my car. I’ll be home in 6 hours, unless I stop at the Bose outlet store near Palm Springs to blow some of the money I made this week.

Funny how blowing money makes me less grumpy.

Blacks On Blondes

random rants

Scene Carriers, Load Dumpers, and On-set Tension.

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Dogfart's Mansion

ST’s in town.

ST is Spring Thomas.

The town – Los Angeles.

Two scenes today: a b/g with Sledgehammer, and then, out of nowhere, as Sledge is poundin’ her, I had 3 load dumpers step up and make a mess on her face; second up, a cuckold scene that got a little nuts.

But I think some definitions are in order. See, in this crazy biz, there’s “scene carriers” and “load dumpers”. In the first scene, for example, Sledgehammer was the scene carrier. The three guys who follow – load dumpers – simply bust a nut. That’s really all that’s required of a load dumper. Dick size isn’t really important, nor is the ability to work any dialogue. Just bust a nut.

Imagine getting paid to just show up on set, step up to the plate (today’s plate being the beautiful and lovely Miss Spring Thomas) and busting a nut.

Now, I’m not saying today’s load dumpers couldn’t carry a scene. In fact, 2 of the 3 do get work carrying scenes. Anyway, Sledge did a great job, and the load dumpers did a great job, and more than that, ST did a great job…for a couple reasons. She’s getting really good carrying her end of the deal without direction. Her sense of timing during a scene is now second nature. In other words, she’s got the 2 minute rule down pat.

2 Minute Rule? Oh, am I a big believer in the 2 Minute Rule!

(In fact, I just invented that term as it applies to dirty movies. The 2 Minute Rule. If you ever want to use the term “2 Minute Rule” in anything you say or do, please Paypal me an appropriate royalty fee; I’ll let you decide what that may be.)

Anyway, 2 minutes is about the length of time something should be carried out in a dirty flick…unless it’s super interesting or something magical is happening. So, if ST is blowing a dude on her knees, in about 2 minutes I’ll ask her to jump on the couch and blow him there; however, today with Sledge I never once had to tell her when to move, cause at about 1:58, ST was moving Sledge to the next position.

Whew. That took too long to explain.

Anyway, the other thing ST did today that was great…when the load dumpers walked up and dumped on her, she didn’t flinch. Not for a second. She didn’t try to wipe anything off her face. She didn’t call for a time out. She just kept at it with Sledge as 3 loads were tossed directly into her face. Then, Sledge unloaded right onto her tummy.

Not bad, huh? Makes for some mighty fine whacking material, if you ask me.

Second scene got kinda nutty – no pun intended. I hired a cuckold to pound his dinky with his fist while ST pleasured herself using a large-dicked African American male. That’s really what this all boils down to: ST uses these dudes for their immense penises. Once she’s done, she tells them to haul ass.

Well, after today’s black dude hauled ass, ST had a big smile on her face. Who could blame her? Then, the cuckold stepped up to the plate to unload. We figured that

1) since he was a good cuckold and allowed ST to humiliate him using various techniques including talking to him like a baby and laughing in his face

and

2) since the cuckold gave ST some oral pleasure after each sexual position with the black guy that…

the poor cuckold deserved a reward. Hence, he got to nut in her face.

Now, before the nutting took place, Cuckold warned everyone he’s quite a shooter. So I tell ST, “hey, if he shoots like crazy, it’s ok to get down low and let a few blasts streak over your head.”

Sure enough, the Cuckold was a blaster.

So when cuckold starting blasting, ST did exactly that – she hunkered down; however, I took her ducking as cumdodging. Cuckold did the same, and grabbed ST and yanked her head back up as he contiuned to blast away…while I bit my lip over what I perceived to be a cum dodging issue.

Then, after cuckold unloaded about a gallon of man goo all over ST’s face, she started to wipe. She didn’t want The Burn to set into her eyes, and really, who could blame her?

Still, it’s a big No-No.

So I barked. Loudly. Then, there was an exchange between us. It was rather heated. She refused to speak at all after that. So, I rolled my film, snapped my pics, and wrapped. There was some more heated moments afterwards, too.

In the end, I apologized.

Stupid thing, really…to stress over something as meaningless as whether or not my female talent wipes some jizz off her face before I take stills. And to raise my voice at someone who means so much to me? Ugh…

In other words, in the future I’m going to quit being an asshole and worry more about the things that really matter in this life.

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