My iPod Kicks Your iPod’s Ass.

gay interracial porn
As of this writing there’s 4,224 songs on my iPod — and not one of them sucks.

I’m serious.

Serious as a heart attack.

I’m so fucking serious, I’m gonna prove it: right this very second, as I convert Katie Jordan’s hi-def MP4’s to WMV’s for my awesome members (the ones who are still on a slow internet connection) at the world’s greatest hand job site — Manojob — I’m listening to Delroy Wilson croon “My Baby is Gone”. And even before I could type that last sentence, Wilson faded out and Serge Gainsbourgh’s “L’Hotel Particulier” from Historie De Melody Nelson faded in.

Since I can’t speak French, I have no idea what Serge is singing, but that really doesn’t matter, cause he does it so well. I’d bet it has something to do with a relationship that went south. Delroy just sang about that, too, and if you take a look at all the art that’s ever made, I’d say 90% of it is either influenced by — or directly concerning — unrequited love.

Ugh…what a hassle the conversion from SD to HD has been. It started with buying an HD camera and not having the post-production equipment to handle HD files. Oh, I thought I did, but that wasn’t the case at all. Toss in tax season, software issues, and a totally apathetic, overweight editor, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. Honestly, I’m still amazed I have any members at all. Speaking of The Editor, he spent a whole lotta time time figuring out how to lie to me about where he was going and what he was doing, so he could spend time with his girlfriend. In fact, I no longer refer to him by name, as he walked out on me without any advance notice after almost three years of employment…and without even offering up to stick around til I found his replacement. Citing “I’m dangerous to be around right now”, he handed me his keys and walked out.

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly? I’m dangerous to be around? I mean…really dude? Dangerous? Just when we were getting back on track with the HD updates.

“Still the One”, by Orleans, is up now, and it reminds me of the Chicago suburbs, cause when I was a kid I’d listen to WLS AM-890. WLS was the place for all the bad pop that come out of the 70’s by bands forgotten almost immediately — for, example, Orleans.

A quick Google search turned up the following play list from WLS, week ending July 19, 1975:

1. “Love Will Keep Us Together” — Captain & Tennille (their old home is now a notorious porno shoot house).

2. “Magic” — Pilot

3. “Wildfire” — Michael Murphy

4. “The Hustle” — Van McCoy

5. “Listen to What The Man Said” — Wings

6. “I’m Not in Love” — 10cc

7. “Sister Golden Hair” — America

8. “Take Me In Your Arms (Rock Me) — The Doobie Brothers

9. “Please Mr. Please” — Olivia Newton John

10. “Hey You” — Bachman Turner Overdrive

(Elton John’s “Pinball Wizard” would have cracked the Top 10, but as noted on WLS’s list, it wasn’t available as a 45, so no dice.)

I was 10 or 11 and I lived in a foul place called Calumet City and at that time in my life I loved me some WLS radio. I also stumbled across my first porno: a paperback original called “Come Swim in My Hole” found in a dumpster as I was looking for beer cans for my super bitchin’ beer can collection. Which brings me to another total digression, but at that time I had a crush on a girl whose name I can’t remember, but she asked me, “hey Billy, do you listen to AM radio or FM radio?”

“AM! WLS!!” I said.

She quit talking to me after that.

Ah — the splendors of unrequited love!

The Los Angeles band Eels are highly underrated and need to be paid some more attention. “I’m Going to Stop Pretending That I Didn’t Break Your Heart” is proof.

Ah — the splendors of unrequited love!

And how about that? Back to back LA bands on random play: X’s “Johnny Hit and Run Pauline”.

I’m even surprising myself now with the Power of My iPod.

Johnny Hit and Run Pauline — the splendors of unrequited love.

I’ve got a newbie in the studio today. Her name’s Ameila Rose, and she used to go by Emily Rose. When I asked her if she got the name from the movie “The Reincarnation of Emily Rose” she laughed and said no, “but people used to ask me that all the time.” She’s the quintessential IR girl with her red hair and pale skin. The Blacks on Blondes fans are gonna love her. They’re gonna love the scene, too, cause I booked two pale-skin redheaded girls for a scene with Flash Brown. Ameilia and I are gonna head out to the newest, greatest gloryhole that was just discovered in an adult bookshop somewhere on the way to Rancho Cucamonga…just in case you’re ever headed that way, you might wanna poke around a few places and see what turns up.

The Scorchers — “Uglyman”.

OK Go — “Return”

The Smiths — “Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others”.

Jolie Holland — “Tiny Idyll/Lil’ Missy”.

All in a row, back to back.

Don’t ya just hate music snobs?

Do you give up yet? Go on — admit it.

I just got a text — literally seconds ago: “Metal Legand [sic] Ronnie James Dio dead at 67”. I worked security for a Dio show. I think it was ’85. The only thing I really remember is roaming the parking lot and coming across a dude finger-banging a chick who was passed out in the front seat of a Toyota 4-Runner. He was standing right outside of the passenger’s side door; she was spread eagle all over the front seat. The other Security Goon I was working with that night first spotted that hot, hot action, and we did our duty and rescued the damsel in distress. Usually, I hated working the parking lot shifts — especially at shows when I actually cared about the band playing that particular night — but for some reason I had no problem roaming the lot that night looking to bust dope dealers at a Dio show. Dio definitely wasn’t part of Sabbath at that point…or was he? And if you’ve been a headbanger the majority of your life, living to 67 ain’t too bad, I suppose.

There’s absolutely no Dio on my iPod.

There is, however, all of Zeppelin III, as well as some Foghat, a wee bit o’ Sabbath (circa ’71 or so (Sweet Leaf!)), and a whole lotta Wilco, yo.

But you already know that.

No Way Am I Gay.

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The Producer e-mailed me today: Hey Billy — are you going to be able to shoot some Blacks on Boys stuff soon? We really need content!

I was standing in line for my chicken bowl at Chipotle when the e-mail hit; I read it from the GMail app on my iPhone.

No Way Am I Gay, but the iPhone fucking rocks. I don’t even care what The Haters say, cause, once upon a time, I was one of those haters. I hated Apple, and I hated iPhones, and I hated the Apple sticker people who are into Apples stick all over their shit.

No Way Am I Gay, but I’m watching what I eat — like “bowls” and salads, as opposed to tacos and burritos and anything that’s gonna hinder me from my new goal — to be a 200 pounder.

No Way Am I Gay, but I spend a lot of time in at the App Store, and when I find one I love, I giggle just like a little girl while it downloads onto my iPhone.

My iPhone is black cause No Way Am I Gay.

As I waited in line to order my chicken bowl, and as I read my very favorite new thing — the New York Times app — I pondered my new job offer: Director of Gay Pornography.

Hmmm.

I’ve shot a lot of smut. I’ve seen a lot of filthy, naughty things go down: from gang bangs to gloryholes, I’ve shot it. Licking ass? Done that. Females “squirting” all over male talent? Yep. I’ve shot spunkmouths and Spring Thomas and Mandingo and bro bangs. I’ve shot for all the sites the Dogfart family offers up — except their gay sites.

The closest thing I’ve shot that’s gay?

No Way Am I Gay.

Ever wonder how we end up where we end up? Like, how do I end up in the Chilpotle line with a ton of aggravating Valley Kids screaming at the top of their lungs during lunch rush pondering do I wanna direct gay porn?

Ever wonder how you ended up where you are?

As I pondered big thoughts, I was distracted by the cute Valley Girls, running around in their Ughs and denim cut-offs and halter tops; which one of those little hussies is gonna end up taking a load to her face a few years from now while I roll camera?

Am I even gonna be shooting smut a couple years from now? Or shall I be contributing to society in a positive, uplifting and meaningful way…like being a politician? Or a banker?

I’m pretty sure I can predict — with a success rate of around 50% — which one of the little sluts refilling their Diet Coke at the Chipotle will, indeed, be the next Bree Olson.

Will the leak in the Gulf of Mexico British Petroleum is lying about end up wiping the place out? As in no more Gulf Shrimp? No more deep-fried catfish from the mouth of the Mighty Mississippi?

I’m fairly confident I can predict — with a success rate of around 50% — which one of the little sluts sitting on the Chipotle patio will, indeed, be the next Lexi Belle.

Will Global Warming end up wiping us all out?

No Way Am I Gay, but I’ve spent some time on gay porn sets. Back before I had my own pad to shoot, I rented a studio for 10 days a month, and gay porn was produced there. Watching two dudes do it — to me — is kinda like watching a train run over a stray cat. Or something bigger and better…like a deer…or even a horse.

I think you know what I mean.

I know a few things about booking gay porn, not cause I’m gay (no way!) but simply cause I spent time at that old studio where the gay porn was shot, and just from listening to the director bitch. He’d bitch a lot about waiting around for dicks to get hard. A lot of times that’s cause he’d have a bottom topping, and the top would bottom. Or he’d book two tops for a scene, or two bottoms for a scene, and that sort of thing throws a monkey wrench into your scene.

“Not cause I’m gay (no way!)” is a double negative which should be avoided at all costs. As, probably, directing gay porn. The Producer has offered to up my pay (because “it’s gross” — (his words)) which really doesn’t carry much weight on whether or not I take him up on the offer.

I’m in the sex biz. Gay sex or straight sex, sex is sex, and it shouldn’t really matter who’s doing the fucking and sucking…right? As long as I make my director’s rate, and it’s all consensual, and no one’s breaking the law…what’s the Big Whoop?

I called a director pal to see how I’d go about casting these scenes, if I take the job.

“Do they want bare backing? Cause if they want the talent to bareback, I ain’t even gonna recommend talent to you. That’s a career-ender. No one will hire you to direct anymore!”

“I don’t wanna direct for anyone but Blacks on Blondes.”

“Yea, you say that now!”

“I’ve been saying that for seven years.”

“Look, I can help you, but you can’t book bare back scenes with the talent I refer your way.”

I agreed.

So…I think I can book the talent, and I know I’m physically capable of shooting gay porn.

Am I mentally capable for such debauchery?

Will this fuck me up for good?

That’s the last thing that crossed my mind before I sat down with my chicken bowl.

Right next to the table where The Next Sasha Grey sat — by herself — texting away, a mile a minute.

The G Men: a fable by Billy Watson.

G Men
When I was in junior high, I had a Social Studies teacher who was a total hippy. He’d play records on one of those small turntables you’d get from the A/V department at the school’s library, 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.

Could this be a true story, dressed up as fiction?

This blog’s original air date: February 19, 2006.

Once upon a time, there lived a man named Billy Watson. He lived in the land of Smallville, and he was pretty much your average guy, except for the way in which he earned his money. You see, Billy was in the adult entertainment business. Well, some called it that. Some also called it porn, or smut — or yet another reason why society is in the shitter.

Billy Watson was just on the cusp of middle age, and this made him kinda sad. He felt he was losing any sort of excitement about life, and that each day was just churning into the next. But excitement was just around the corner, and he didn’t even know it.

One morning, his phone rang. Very Early. Anyone Billy knew – and wanted to talk to – knew he doesn’t like getting up early in the morning to chat — about anything.

“This is Detective Dicksucker. From the Smallville Police Department. Are you Billy Watson?”

Poor Billy was still in Dreamy-Dream Land. He was having a great dream that morning…a dream about making love to a beautiful woman.

Billy’s a fan of beautiful women. He’s not a fan of cops.

Detective Dicksucker didn’t even give him a chance to reply. “Did you send an Overnight Package to Little Brother?”

Indeed, Billy had just sent Little Brother a package just the previous day.

Billy was still in wake-up mode, so he slowly asked again, “Who is this?” and after Detective Dicksucker repeated his name, Billy asked him to spell it.

The detective shouted, “I’m Dicksucker! It’s spelled like it sounds!”

Billy asked for a call back number, and Detective Dick Sucker barked the same question — Did you send an Overnight Package to Little Brother? — so Billy asked again for a call back number, and The Detective, in a very angry tone, gave a “cell number”.

Billy hung up right away.

Then Billy does what he does every morning when he first wakes up – he went pee pee. While he was whizzing away, he cleared his head, then left the bathroom to call Little Brother and find out which one of the dummies Little Brother worked with was playing the silly joke on both of them.

But when Billy called Little Brother, Little Bro was already on the phone…with Smallville’s finest. And Detective Dicksucker was grilling him, too; and just like Billy Watson, Little Bro wasn’t answering a thing. Our fine Detective had quite an attitude problem, and both Billy and Little Bro wondered is this how police are supposed to talk to people on the phone?

You know what else was weird? Detective Dicksucker also knew Little Bro’s home home address — even though it was nowhere on the Overnight Package — which triggered Billy to think maybe this isn’t a joke someone is playing on us…

Shall we flash forward to the white van pulling up in front of Little Brother’s office, in the very heart of Smallville? Or the 3 guys in black suits who got out, holding the Overnight Package?

Or shall we flash back to all the obscenity cases in Smallville that had to do with sending adult materials through various forms of delivery services, mostly the Postal Service?

Oh, flash backs and flash forwards! Such interesting devices used in fiction which can sometimes be very effective!

Wait. Our fable gets better. When Billy Watson makes dirty movies in La La Land, a place where it’s perfectly legal to make dirty movies, and the movies he makes there are perfectly legal, and when he gets a lot of dirty movies made, Billy sends an Overnight Package to Little Bro. Little Bro gives the package to a fine fellow named Creepy Q, and Mister Q processes the dirty movies and turns it all into little files that websites can use so all the pervy bastards in all the land can beat their meat like monkies at the zoo.

This, of course, makes the world a better place.

So now let’s flash forward to Billy’s now-fogless brain processing what Little Bro just said, then hanging up and logging on to Overnight Package’s website, and tracking the Overnight Package, and seeing that, indeed, it’s being held at the “Distribution Center”.

That means no one was playing a dirty trick on Billy Watson and Little Bro and Creepy Q.

And that’s when Billy Watson called The Producer.

And that’s when The Producer called The Lawyer.

And that’s when Detective Dicksucker called Billy Watson back, wanting to know why Billy hung up on him.

And that’s when Billy Watson’s make-up artist walked in to his studio in LaLa Land, with his female talent for this day’s dirty movie.

And that’s when Billy asked – again – for a name spelling on “Dicksucker” and a call back number, which he got.

Billy hung up. Poor Billy’s head was spinning, and he didn’t know what to do, so he walked the talent and make-up artist to the make-up room and pretended that everything was mighty fine in the land where they make dirty movies.

After a minute that seemed like an hour, Billy called The Producer back. The Producer still couldn’t locate The Lawyer.

Billy hung up and called Little Brother to verify if what was happening was indeed happening – which Little Brother verified.

Poor Billy. Poor Little Brother. Poor Creepy Q.

Billy walked around the studio in La La Land, freaking out. So he called Little Bro back and they made a plan…a plan which included how to handle things when the cops show. And sure enough, that’s when a white van without a license plate pulled up and three dudes in nice suits stepped out, and one of them was holding the Overnight Package.

Billy’s phone rang. He was still on the phone with Little Brother, going over what to do when someone’s arrested and placed in handcuffs and read their rights, and sure enough, it’s Detective Dicksucker! The Good Detective wants to know why Billy’s not returning his calls.

So what’s Billy do?

Put him on hold.

Little Brother wanted to know what was about to happen. See, Little Bro’s a good person. A very good person who’s never been in trouble once, except when he went pee-pee in public and got a ticket for doing so. Other than that, he’s never dealt with cops before. So this type of game isn’t one he knows too well.

Poor Billy doesn’t know it much better…it’s just that he’s had more time on this planet than Little Brother…so he knew a bit more. Just a bit, though. And Billy was almost afraid to verbalize what he’s about to say to Little Brother at this very moment in time: Bro…if they arrest you, just tell them your name and that you want to talk to your lawyer. That’s it. Don’t tell them a fucking thing. Not a thing. Don’t answer a question. Don’t get upset. And we’ll get The Lawyer over there and everything will be just fine.

Little Brother asked Billy Watson to stay on the phone with him; Billy agreed, of course.

In a last-ditch attempt to call The Lawyer, Billy picked up the studio phone in La La Land. Little Brother’s in one ear, the lawyer’s office is in the other. The office lady who worked for The Lawyer answered the phone and said, “He’s in court. I’m sorry.”

The Lawyer had an Assistant – and The Assistant was on another line. Which meant no one could talk to Billy Watson.

Billy said, “It’s 911 time, and I need to talk to The Assistant!”

So what does Office Lady do?

Put Billy on hold.

One very long minute later Office Lady came back, and Billy pleaded, “Can you please get up and walk into the office? Because we have A Situation here.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t leave my station.”

So what can Billy do but leave a message? Then Billy hung up with Office Lady and talked Little Brother through The Situation. Billy said to just walk out there and introduce yourself. Tell them that’s your package, and just be honest. That’s all we can do. “We’re not breaking the law, that’s for sure. I mean nothing we’re doing here is illegal…at least nothing to my knowledge. I’ll hang up and call Detective Dicksucker and talk to him as you walk out there. I’ll tell him the whole deal.”

So that’s what Billy did.

And that’s what Little Brother did.

Funny, but when Little Brother got to the other office, the package was already opened. Another employee opened the package because Detective Dicksucker said it was “OK for someone else besides Little Brother to open the package” — even though it was addressed to Little Brother.

That doesn’t sound right to me!

And Detective Dicksucker turned out to be part of Smallville’s “Homeland Security”, and the package turned out to be “one of 18,000” randomly searched that day, and when Billy Watson wouldn’t play nice with Detective Dicksucker, and when Little Brother wouldn’t…well, that’s when “protocol” was initiated.

How does our fable end?

Turned out our Detective found the whole thing kinda funny. He apologized and said he didn’t want to spell his name cause, well, he deals with terrorists and drug dealers and he doesn’t like his name being spelled out over the phone. He also told Billy Watson people talk way too much over the phone, and that Billy did exactly what Detective Dicksucker would have done, too. He thanked Billy Watson over the phone, shook Little Brother’s hand, and wished them both good luck.

All three sharply dressed G-Men got into their white van and sped off down the street.

The End?

Former Child Actress Now A Porn Star — it’s Aryanna Star.

Former Child Actress Aryanna Star sex movies
A site called Media Take Out — “the most visited urban website in the world” — has reported that porn star Aryanna Star was, at one time, a child actress who appeared on an 80’s TV show called A Different World.

I’d link back to them, but their reporting is so fucking terrible they don’t deserve it; in fact, anyone who had a hand in writing this entry deserves a sock in the nose…but I would never hit a person. It’s against my good nature.

Why do they deserve to get smacked around? The same reason any erroneous reporter deserves to be smacked around — cause they’re erroneous. There’s nothing more sacred than The Truth. There’s nothing more powerful than The Written Word. And there’s nothing worse than a journalist who doesn’t know the facts.

Well, I can think of some stuff that’s worse — the leak in the Gulf of Mexico right now that BP is responsible for; Fox News; a poorly-made latte; women forced to wear berkas and denied basic civil liberties; Iron Man 2; the holocaust; as well as the latest Jack White project, “Dead Weather”.

Media Take Out’s big fuck up? Their description of Aryanna’s Cumbang scene: “the men were all wearing CONFEDERATE FLAG T-SHIRTS . . . and they spit on her and called her THE N WORD while they did their business with her.”

Fucking dopes! Not once is the “N WORD” dropped in Cumbang — in any scene — including Aryanna’s.

Fucking morons! Not once is a girl spit on in Cumbang — in any scene — including Aryanna’s.

Cumbang is simply a revenge site. Think of it as a sanction for African-American women who want to even the score. Why? Well, it’s very simple: all the women on this site have black boyfriends who have cheated on them with a snowbunny.

Or Snow Bunny.

Just depends on how you want to write it out.

If I was a black woman, I’d place Snow Bunny on the list I just gave for Everything Bad in The World — right after Jack White’s new band.

Can you think of a better place to get revenge on your cheatin’ ass niggah boyfriend than with a buncha dirty, red-neck crackers in a warehouse somewhere outside of Hemet, CA?

I think not.

OK Ok ok — fine. Here’s the link to Media Take Out’s entry I’m referring to. I’ll go ahead and give it out just so you can read some of the General Publics’ reaction to this whole deal.

Some of the comments made my morning.

The best reaction, however, is the e-mail my producer just received: hey people, i read this post late and i am very concerned. the site that show this young lady in action is ghettogagers.com which is owned by D&E media, LLC which is headquartered in east orange, nj. as I type this I have e-mailed and written letters to the following: oprah winfrey, Michael baisden, al sharpton and the national action network, 100 blacks in law enforcement, the NJ attorney-general, the us attorney-general, the NJ governors office, all the NJ state senators(one of which lives in the same town this company is headquartered), all the NJ assembly people who represent this district, both us senators from NJ, all the us congress people from this area, the FBI, the IRS, the department of justice, as well as the mayor of the city of east orange. if all of you do the same as me, this company and the trash they produce will be eliminated and they will be no more. although most of their work is protected by the first amendment, they are going well beyond what protects them in the constitution. black women don’t deserve this treatment, for that much, people don’t deserve this treatment

At least this dude got his facts straight about the dirty web sites Ms. Starr has appeared on — if she appeared on Ghetto Gaggers at all.

I’ve shot Aryanna a whole buncha times — twice for Gloryhole-Initiations, once for Cumbang, and once for the world’s greatest interracial website — Blacks on Blondes.

We took a trip to some infamous gloryholes around the SoCal area. Here’s some free Aryanna Star Gloryhole pictures and movies. In fact, she had such a good time, Aryanna came back for seconds.

You already know about her Cumbang appearance — here’s some free Aryanna Star Cumbang pictures and movies.

Finally, Aryanna played a farmer raising chickens with her hubby (played by Byron Long). They try and secure a loan from the bank, and the lending officer, Brooklyn Jade, visits their chicken farm — only to deny them the loan. (You know what happens next). Here’s some free Aryanna Starr pictures and movies from her Blacks on Blondes scene.

Oh, and before you start hating on me, and talkin’ shit about how I had them play chicken farmers cause black people loved fried chicken, just know that there’s a dude who lives close to a studio I use who really raises chickens, and they were loud that day, and to save our editor a ton of post-production work, we just went with the chicken thang.

Here’s my last word on this for today: there are freaky gals who love to get their freak on. They love it. Some of them love it so much they star in dirty movies. They love having sex for the world to see, and they hate sitting at a desk (probably like you’re doing right now) for 40 hours a week pushing papers around. They love working a few hours a week and making wages in excess of the 40-hour-a-week wage earner. They love the attention they get off set. They’re not coerced to make dirty movies. They’re not on drugs. They’re simply doing a job they love to do.

The only thing that really fucks up most porno people is the society who condemns them for what they do; the same ones who just dropped a nut all over the place watching — and loving — the freaky behavior they put down the first chance they get. These are the ones who are married and haven’t banged their wives since the closing night of the Salt Lake City Olympic Games — mainly cause the only people they have sex with on any sort of regular basis are hookers or mistresses…or themselves.

I refer to them as conservative Republicans.

Former Child Actress Aryanna Star sex movies

Super Fun e-Mails: The Sweet Treat Found in a Bimbo Princesses’ Treasurebox.

Tommie Ryden interracial cuckold movies
White Stick Dick writes:

Billy: Very attractive whiteboi 35 who makes 80k per yr and has a tiny thin whiteboi clit. Would love to serve as a whiteboi bitch in a cb6000 and eat black MAN’s sweet cum out of a bimbo princesses treasurebox. I think I would be perfect as an attractive whiteboi I am a perfect example of submission to black inches. The whitebois should be slapped and pushed around more by the bulls and barbies so please hire me for cuckold sessions!
———————————-

What timing! I’m actually looking for new cuckolds! You’re probably not very serious though, as most of the e-mails I receive are pretty much the same: dudes want to get onto the site, and when it’s really offered up — they balk. Or “think about it”…

Not too much of a surprise, though. Same thing happens when dudes wanna get into the porno game. But that’s another blog.

Let’s digress!

The first time I heard the term “cuckold” was years before I started making dirty movies. You’re never gonna believe how I learned about cuckolds, either. I was in an undergrad English Lit class. This would have been the spring of ’87. I was approaching my sixth year as an undergrad. It was a Chaucer class. The Canterbury Tales. The Miller’s Tale.

Here’s a lesson on cuckolds, of which I’ll toss out some stuff I remember from my undergrad days, as well as some paraphrasing from the Wiki article on cuckolds: a cuckold is basically a dude who knows his wife is cheating on him…and he’s A-OK with it.

There ya go.

That’s it.

All this interracial sex stuff and making fun of hubby’s small wee-wee and male chastity belts (the cb6000 — the Cadillac of chastity belts) and eating a creampie after the dude nuts in your wife’s pussy is all made up by fetishists after the fact. Just to make it nastier, I suppose.

As if watching your loved one get banged out isn’t nasty enough.

Anyways, if you wanna be a cuckold, hit me up. I need some. You can’t hide your face or wear a mask. If you’re a knucklehead don’t bug me. If you’re a pervy creep that’s a good thing, but you gotta be on your best behavior before the camera starts rolling and after I turn it off. You will be paid. You gotta get yourself to Los Angeles. You gotta be over 18. You gotta have two forms of ID, one of which must be issued by the government (driver’s license, passport, state or military ID work great).

Um…that is all.

Interview with a Porn Star (#75) — Amy Brooke

Amy Brooke interview
I Shoot Porn: So, out of about 500 (give or take) scenes over at Blacks on Blondes, you’re rated #1 by the members. Aren’t you special?

Amy Brooke: I feel special. I remember the scene, you know what I mean? I was excited cause I got to work with Shane Diesel, cause I never had before. It was a challenge for me. Maybe not. I mean I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t done that much IR, but I like the fact that Shane and Rico Strong are on my level as far as freakishness goes. And the whole scene felt good…not that it felt good sexually, but that we were putting on a great show. I didn’t really have to “think” — it just happened. I hate having to carry a scene by myself. I also like being surprised when I’m working, and Shane surprised me for sure. I wasn’t choreographed.

ISP: Hey! I spelled “choreographed” correctly — the first time!

AB: Nice!

ISP: So you’re talking about Shane Diesel’s enormous “pre-cum” cum shot?

AB: Yea, it definitely surprised me, which turns me on even more. How about when I squirted in his mouth, and then he spit it back in mine?

ISP: That was hot. Have you been a freak your whole life?

AB: I was always down to do everything, and very open sexually, but I never started doing freaky stuff til I was, like….16.

ISP: Tell me a freaky story from your teen years.

AB: When I just starting having sex one of my boyfriends loved watching me fuck his friends. He’d bring like 3 friends over, so with him included that would be 4. His three friends would fill me up with cum, and he’d take sloppy fourths. Crazy, huh? Isn’t that weird?

ISP: Actually, no. There’s whole sites built around that fetish. But it is weird that he was a teen into that sort of depraved, perverted shit.

AB: You know what’s funny, these gang bangs didn’t go down at a house, or a “normal” settings. We’d sneak out at like 2 am and go to a park and they’d pull a train on me in the baseball bleachers. Isn’t that weird? It’s a true story! Is that considered freaky?

ISP: That’s a freak show.

AB: I think I’ve taken more dudes’ virginity that any other girl I know.

ISP: Do you have any idea how many dudes you’ve banged off camera?

AB: More than 100 for sure. But I don’t know at all. I used to keep a list. When I was 16, my list was up to about 90.

Gia Paloma, Make-up artist: Did you have your list sectioned off, like a BJ section and a sex section…or if they went down on you?

AB: I didn’t have a “Down On You” part, but I had a BJ section. I don’t like getting eaten out. I rather get fingered.

ISP: If I wandered into your apartment and looked into your fridge right now, what would I find?

AB: Jenny Craig. Hummus and pita bread. And lots of energy drinks.

ISP: So how crazy is it that we went to the same high school…and the same middle school? I am class of ’82, and you’re class of 2005!

AB: I wasn’t even born in ’82! That’s just insane, though! Our high school is deranged! Did you know that? We weren’t even allowed to ride in the same bus with the football players cause we’d blow them, so they made the cheerleaders take a separate bus to games! Oh yea, and I fucked a dude in the ass who went to our school, too! For Joe over at AMA! We’re just freaks! Don’t you think??

ISP: Super freaks! You were a cheerleader?

AB: Cheer just freshman year, then I did Pom my last three years. I like dancing better than doing stunts. Plus, I am afraid of heights, and in cheer they always wanted me to go to the top of pyramid cause I’m so tiny.

ISP: Do you hang out with anyone in the biz?

AB: I do! Sindee Jennings, Sadie West, and McKenzee Miles. Sindee’s my best friend. Ashli Orion, too. And Claire Dames. Those are like my main chicks.

ISP: Talk about a Freak Squad! I mean that only as the highest compliment, too.

AB: That’s good. I like my dirty girls.

ISP: Does dick size really matter?

AB: Um…(thinking)….it depends. I’ve had really big dicks that also happened to be the worst sex in my life.

ISP: What’s on your iPod?

AB: Um…a lot of Bon Jovi.

ISP: SHUT UP. That’s borderline criminal behavior.

AB: Oh yea. And my ring tone is Bon Jovi.

ISP: What Bon Jovi song is your ring tone?

AB: It’s a classic! (She grabs her phone and plays it for me — “It’s My Life”). I also have a lot of country…Allan Jackson, Tim McGraw, Toby Keith, Willie Nelson. Um…I have my workout songs, MIA, Brittney Spears, Lady Gaga, Madonna. Then, like…I have everything.

Gia Paloma, Make-up artist: What’s your guilty pleasure? Like, when you’re in your car and you’re listening to something that’s kinda embarrassing to be listening to? Mine’s Lady Gaga or Jay-Z’s “New York New York”…I dunno what that song is even called.

AB: Justin Bieber. He’s so hot. I totally want to bang him. Is that against the law?

ISP: Isn’t he like 12 or something? So, yea…it’s against the law. Anyways, who do you love to work for?

AB: Evil Angel. And you, of course. And Immoral Productions, which is always a fun day. I love working for Porno Dan.

ISP: What can’t I book you for?

AB: Nothing. There’s nothing I won’t do.

ISP: If Beastie Porn was legal, could I book you to bang a Doberman?

AB: Definitely.

ISP: 50 man bukakke?

AB: Well, I’ve done 20, but yea…50 would work. They tried to book me for a 50 man anal cream pie, but my agent said no. Oh! I won’t do a vag cream pie.

ISP: Why won’t let a dude blast in your cunt?

AB: I’m not on birth control, which I know is crazy. But you know what? The only time I’ve ever been pregnant is when I’m on birth control. Plus I’m a crazy bitch on birth control. I don’t even know who I am on that shit.

ISP: Describe your worst day on a set.

AB: Features. I’m a gonzo chick. I mean sometimes features are fun. I hate showing up on a feature set and I don’t know it’s a feature set. I also hate showing up at 8 am and sitting around until 6 pm when I start work. If I’m booked for a feature, I wanna know ahead of time. And the diva girls drive me crazy. I just can’t do it. Well, I can do it, but it’s not easy. I mean really — who do you think you are? Maybe that’s rude, but whatever.

ISP: Gotta boyfriend right now?

AB: I don’t date. I barely have time for myself, let alone another human being. Plus, I get bored easily…and I don’t like to be controlled. Maybe I haven’t met the right person. I have seven fuck buddies that I rotate though.

ISP: Any way I can get in that rotation?

AB: Of course. You just gotta call me more.

Amy Brooke interview