“It’s all lube to me.” - Sanders
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August 19th, 2009
More on The Squirting Debate
August 18th, 2009
Missy Monroe: On Squirting
MISSY MONROE: THE VITALS (courtesy of the Internet Adult Film Database)
AKA Missy Monique, Missy Marie
BORN August 22, 1984, Las Vegas, NV
STAR SIGN Leo
YEARS ACTIVE 2003-2009 (Started around 19 years old)
HAIR Blond
MEASUREMENTS 34DD-27-37
HEIGHT 5′5″
WEIGHT 134 lbs (varies according to water weight gain)
TATS “Missy” on right asscheek; strawberry plant on left ankle; pink bird on left shoulder blade (late 2004)
NON-EAR PIERCINGS None
DATES WITH SAM BENJAMIN I’m glad you asked. There were two occasions that stand out in my mind, and the first one occurred about one week after the day I met her on the set of Jim Powers’ “White Trash Whore” and videotaped her talking about squirting: the power of female ejaculate. She gave me her phone number and said for me to call her and I called her happily but the thing was she was living at Slain Wayne’s house at the time, a famous editor in the adult film industry, so when I called her she said she wasn’t sure she was allowed to have guests, and what should she do? I said hmm sounds like Slain’s in love with you (it happened from time to time), let me talk to Slain and I’ll call you back. I was friends with Slain in those days and even had his number on my little grey metallic cell phone, a simple model that certainly would be laughed at today. So I called him up and he said Hey man! It’s been so long! And I said hey, hey. And we talked about Cal Arts for a while because he had gone there and I was going there now. And he said guess what, I’m working on my indie movie! He was always working on some indie movie. I said that’s great. He was definitely a talented editor. Crazy, all over the place. But what I’d really like to do I said is visit Missy. Would that be okay with you? There was like this silent power struggle going on between us, in between the friendship part. And he said of course why shouldn’t it be? And I pounced all over that. I said, terrific. Be right over. So I drove into the boring depths of the Van Nuysian Valley and found their little cardboard house and nothing really happened with Missy Monroe and me.
The second time we hung out it was a lot worse. She called me up - out of the blue! - and said, hey hon, do you want to come over? I have a new house and do you want to come over? I said that sounds terrific and followed a horrible path of winding expressway at least one hour until I came into her expensive gated apartment complex and when I got there I saw she had a cable box disconnected and a DVD player disconnected and a TV disconnected and there were swirling wires all over the place. And she made a face like a little girl and said Can you help me? And I was not bad with wires at the time and in fact enjoyed a challenge, so I got behind her very big TV and got in there and got to work connecting everything. Wire here wire there. Wire filched into the back of a tubeTv, no flatscreens in late ‘04, that was for sure, plugs crapping into the wall. And finally it was all connected and all we had to do was program her remote control and set up her speakers. She drank a beer watching me do it, she was lounging on a couch in her sweats looking cute and stuff and smoking a bong.
We had a working TV over here. So I came over to the couch for my reward. But there was no kiss or anything like it. I got a little huffy, but she passed me a beer and that was okay. We went out on the balcony and watched the traffic for a while. I was then invited into her bedroom to check out her porn collection. She had every tape she’d ever been in. She gave me one tape which I still have, from Red Light District. I believe it’s called Cum Dumpsters. It’s signed across the front, it says “Love you babe. Missy Monroe”. We drank some more beers and sat on her couch watching this DVD of Reggae on the River. Michael Franti of Spearhead was tearing it up. We watched for at least an hour and a half. We smoked some pot too. Then Missy said, well, I guess I’m gonna go to bed. And I said, do you have anything else to watch? Because I didn’t want to make the drive back just yet. I had been driving around fucked up a little too much lately and it was starting to scare me. She gave me this look like what are you talking about? I said I’m a little drunk. She said you had one beer. I said so you’re just going to put me out? She said I’m going to bed! And I was like go to bed then! Can I just sit on your fucking couch for an hour to sober up? and she was like how the fuck could you be drunk, I don’t get it, and no, I can’t let you stay out here and I said FUCK YOU and she shouted FUCK YOU BACK and I pointed my finger at her and I said Fuck you Missy, silent and soft and mean. All I remember was her hard eyes black and staring at me.
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August 17th, 2009
Alex Sanders: On Civilian Girls
This one’s a winner, folks.
A paid meat stick from the mid-90’s, Alex Sanders is still hanging around - or, he was when I shot this, in late 2004 or early 2005, a period in which I was pretending I was going to be making the definitive groundbreaking documentary about the Porn Biz. Never finished that movie, or even got close; but I do have about a hundred hours of tape in the back of my closet here, which is good for you, and great for YouTube.
I remember being in Santa Cruz, winter 2000. A cold and lonely night during the February rains. My 40-year-old hippie roommate is smoking bowl after bowl from his wooden pipe and pressuring me - exhorting me - to have some. He is playing some Very Nice Music, and lord, I am tempted. But no: I have research to do. I throw on some heavy brown boots and exit the house, tramping across Water Street to Hoots, Yogurt, and Video, where, after about a half-hour’s thoughtful perusal, I will rent (and subsequently tape, for my home collection), a Misty Rain movie (nobody ever talks about Misty Rain anymore! Man, she was amazing, the pride of 96-97 Natural girls). Sanders was in the flick. Long-haired as ever.
Famous actors must get this all the time; you know - the reaction from normals on the street: Dude! I feel like I know you! But I did feel like I knew Sanders, when I met him and videotaped him, for the clip you see above. I’d seen the guy fuck. I’d seen him get naked and fuck Misty Rain. Outside the rain was pouring down, and I was in Santa Cruz - and then it wasn’t, and I was older, I was in graduate school, and I had a class that evening but it was morning I was on a set in some tweaker shack listening to a pontificiation on civilian girls and how they don’t suck dick right.
I feel like I know you!
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August 16th, 2009
Sexy 80’s Vamp, Abortionist-Style
Lazy Sundays are now officially sponsored by the genius of Everything is Terrible.
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August 15th, 2009
Christina Cicchelli: Interview with a Dominatrix
During my performance at Sex Worker Literati, I noticed a beautiful woman in the audience giving me serious telepathic support. She was nodding, smiling, and laughing at all the crucial moments. Not only did it seems like she wanted me to succeed, it was like she heard the message of my monologue. She understood it.
Afterward, when I went up to her to thank her, I realized why my tale might appeal to her more than the average bear: she was a sex-worker too. Sorta “former,” but more like current, with porno experience on both coasts who mostly made her living as a dominatrix, fetish consultant, sex writer, and all-out cool person. Here’s the story of Christina Cicchelli, aka Simone Valentino.
Christina, I’m interested in interviewing you specifically because you have experience in both the porn world and the dom world. Which came first? I’m assuming the dom stuff - is that right? How did you make the transition to porno? And what was that like?
Honestly, neither of the porn or pro-dom work came first. When I decided to take a leap into the adult industry, I started out as a stripper in Connecticut, which lasted two nights only. I was no good at the poles and the bouncers didn’t approve of my lap dance behavior (mostly grinding my ass into the laps of paying customers… they have to get their money’s worth, right?) So, that was very brief. I tried sending my photos to Fetish websites, all to no avail. Then, I started to get attention from New Jersey pornographers (the shadiest of the bunch, from my observation). I performed an “audition” which was the worst time of my life. To make a long story short, I did everything that a girl shouldn’t do when trying to break into the industry. But, once I dropped out of school and moved to New York City, I took up stripping again, failed at it again, and it was then that I saw an ad in the newspaper for Mistresses at a NYC dungeon. I set up an appointment and spent my first training session watching this beautiful red-haired dom work her large dildo into the ass of a flustered, highly excited British businessman. And I knew I found the job of my dreams. So, to me, my career as a professional dom started there. Later, I answered an inquiry on Craig’s List from a man who was seeking new talent. We talked and he told me that because of my race and my look, I would never be the next Jenna Jameson, which was never my intention. I told him that maybe this is why I should be in porn, because there is no one else like me. We spoke and, through him, I worked at another dungeon (now defunct) and met Joe Gallant, who would eventually film my first porn scene. Unlike my first attempt, when I was finally settled in New York, I was fortunate to have met very positive people who could have taken advantage of my naivety, but didn’t. Everyone enjoyed being in the business, and I couldn’t have asked for a better experience. It was almost like joining a family… who loved whippings and enema art (A reference to Gallant’s artwork).
You’re an NYC woman and a successful professional dom. We had a quick-ass conversation about your trip to Los Angeles where you did a little porn. You never stayed and I can only assume it was not exactly to your liking down there — tell me an LA story from that trip.
Ha! LA was fun, let me kid you not, but most of my enjoyment sprung from the misadventures I had gotten into when I wasn’t trying to land a gig. I also knew that if I wanted to stay in the business, I had to visit the Motherland some time or another. I was still radiating from performing my first anal threesome (and my first porn scene ever!) with Aaralyn Barra and Jeremy Stone. Aaralyn was flying out to LA that morning and asked if I wanted to join her. Of course, I jumped at the chance, but Joe wanted to use me for a scene with Michelle Aston in his apocalyptic porno Avenue X, so I naturally stayed behind (How could one resist?) He and his merry crew of perverts had to travel West to film more scenes, and I was under the impression that I would be performing in these scenes. Lack of communication proved me wrong, so I had flown out with very little money and no work lined up. So, of course, when we arrived I was very stressed because I had to snag a scene and make some cash so I could return home. However, the first week was amazing. Highlights included tripping on shrooms with my girlfriend whilst Joe filmed his group sex scene in the Mojave Desert, sharing sushi with Eon McKai and heading to Dupont’s for two meals a day with Joe, Mariano, Keith, and whomever else decided to join us. Again, a real family affair. But, they had to leave, and I wanted to stay for curiosity’s (and money’s) sake. Joe’s words to me before they departed: “Don’t become a cunt rag.” Crass, I know, but I understood it well. After a week in LA, it felt like no one seemed, well, authentic. Every girl outdid the other in massive tits and bleached hair. Every other guy looked like Sean Michaels (seriously). As a voyeur, it was an incredible landscape and culture to observe. But, as a sex worker, it was soulless. I finally snagged a scene with Dino Bravo, who took me under his wing while I remained in LA. That was fun. But, once I had to make the trips through the windowless buildings of Silicone Valley, take off my clothes, pose for Polaroids, and list my dos and donts like spouting off a grocery list, it all seemed so numbing I had to get back home. At least, in NYC, they wine and dine you a bit. I was glad too.
With Brian Surewood
A lot of the doms I know will not do full-on penetration and stuff, but apparently from what I see from your film work, you will. Was there an intermediary stage with your sex work … i.e., is it part of what you did in your “private practice” to fuck a client every so often? What are your boundaries?
Actually, I kept my dom life and my porn life as separate as I could, which meant that while I would lovingly fuck on film I wouldn’t do so as a dominatrix. You see, during this time, I worked at a fetish dungeon. I respected the rules and didn’t want to get the place busted, so my reputation was kept squeaky clean. Besides, it takes a very intense scene for me to lose so much control that I want to have sex, and that’s only happened once out of my fetish career. I did share a couple of intimate moments with a client, but he was so much fun! Crazy, but fun. And it took me a while to let my defenses down and truly get into the scene that he wanted, which had nothing to do with domination in its traditional sense. For clients who truly loved the BDSM and wanted to worship me as Domme (as they should), there was a sense of power in keeping my distance and prolonging the mystery as much as I could. Which was why it was difficult, at one point, for me to balance being a dominatrix with my porn career. I didn’t want my clients to think that what they see on the television screen was what they would get. Those are two very different worlds. And, they didn’t pay me to be Simone Valentino. They paid me to be Mistress Simone. This was when it was very important to me to strengthen my boundaries. Sex was never on the table. It was never expected, and if I even so much as kissed them on the cheek, then they should be thankful for such a privilege. I could fuck them in the ass if I wanted, but they wouldn’t receive handjobs or blowjobs. If I wanted to get topless, then I could, but that rarely happened during the first sessions I shared with a new client. Quite simply, they submitted to me and my terms. And, if they didn’t like it, then they knew where to go.
The thing that I respect about doms, coming from the basically mindless world of hardcore pornography, is that there’s there seems to be this mental aspect to domination. Tell me all about it. Who are you to them? Why do they want to come to you in particular? Would I like to be dominated, do you think?
Is there not a mental aspect to pornography? Shouldn’t there be? To me, that’s the disheartening aspect of the porn world, and, perhaps, why I enjoyed being a dominatrix so much. In porn, it’s always about sex. Always. Sure, there’s foreplay, there’s toys. But, at the end of the day, it’s about penetration, money shot, and that’s it. After a while, I got bored of the porn scene, and there were only a handful of moments in my brief career in which I shared a moment with an actor and was not only excited by his good looks and temperament, but by his maturity and his intelligence. I don’t know about you, but that’s pretty rare in that industry. Not to say that every Tom, Dick, and Harry that walks through the door of a dungeon is an intellectual. In fact, sometimes - as it is in any part of the adult industry - you’ll have to dominate someone who is boring, straightforward, perverse in an uninteresting way. I remember when Francis and I had spoken about moments when we would just hurry up, do the scene, and get them out of there. We wouldn’t even want to put effort into it. For me, these types of sessions occur when a client wants to come in and has nothing to offer but money and a shortchanged fantasy, all so he could jerk off and hopefully see your tits. But, when I meet a client who is open-minded and is ready to surrender his comforts and power to me, then I become a goddess. I become ethereal. I feed his fetish and help him build a world that, for one hour or more (depending on how much he paid), he is no longer an employee, a doctor, a mailman, a father, etc. He, too, becomes something else altogether. Some clients who enjoyed spending time with me were cross-dressers and those who sought intense role play sessions. They may have noted my femininity, sophistication, and creativity as traits that they felt comfortable with. Of course, every client seeks something special in a Mistress. I can only assume they discovered something special in me. My guess, Sam, is that you might like to be surrendered if the dom romances you a bit. One moment, she’s whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and the next moment you’re kissing her shiny new shoes while she pours hot candle wax on your back. That’s my estimation, anyway.
When we were having our after-show pep talk, we were all dissing on sex work, sort of planning to quit it, and sort of planning to keep on reaping the rewards of it. Tell me the absolute BEST part of sex work and why you would never want to forsake it.
After being a sex worker, on and off, for about five years and actually acquiring a full-time job with, but mostly without, benefits, there are two reasons why I love the former over the latter. For one, sex work is never boring. I have mentioned before that when a certain client or performer occupies your time, it feels more like a job than a fantasy. But, when I became an independent dominatrix and phone sex operator, it was easier to promote myself and, thus, receive the type of clients that worked best with my style. Most of these clients were cross-dressers, men who liked to be dominated by their mothers or teachers, foot fetishists, etc. My hours spent with these gentlemen were very fulfilling. My independence and flexible schedule was such a treat. Never had I felt more like an individual than when I’m involved in sex work. Can you get that type of freedom when you’re someone’s employee? Of course not. Not when you dropped out of school and have to lie to each new employer you meet (According to them, I’m an Honors Graduate with an English Degree, which still hasn’t gotten me far). Another reason why I love being a sex worker is because I can really use my creativity to help people and expand upon my own skills. I’ve dabbled in almost every type of sex work you can think of, from porno to prostitution and back again. I’ve learned so much about human sexuality and I received so many amazing opportunities to speak about my experiences in forums that I would have never known about. And I do love talking about sex… which gets me in trouble almost every time I’m working a normal job. To your average Joe Schmo, I’m a misanthropic, quiet, sometimes uncomfortably crude ticket girl. But, to my clients, I am their mother, their caretaker, their girlfriend, their Goddess. My words and actions mean more to them than it ever would have to other “civilians”. Who couldn’t love a lifestyle like that?
You put on your site that you’re a Fetish Consultant — what is it? Do you help couples? Screenwriters hoping to write about the dom life?
As a Fetish Consultant, I assist both individuals and couples with their fantasy - no matter how outrageous or minute it may be - and give them an opportunity to use it in the bedroom and in their sex lives. I give my clients advice, assignments, and sometimes point them to or accompany them to events where they can let their freak flag fly high. Assignments can vary from writing erotic stories to learning how to use dirty talk, which slowly allows your fetish to exist in the bedroom. One great example is a cross dresser whom I’d help for a couple of weeks. Together we pinpointed his feminine style, accessorized clothes and make-up, practiced everything from gestures to feminine walks, and even went out to a bar as girlfriends. After writing my first article on furry love (which you can check out on my website or blog), someone had approached me with tips on how to initiate her furry fetish and share it with her partner. So, simply put, I teach you how to become a better pervert, with or without your lover :). I can teach you how to play in the bedroom, which prolongs and enhances the sexual experience altogether. And, yes, screenwriters can come to me to breathe some realism into their own sordid tales, although I haven’t attracted anyone with that specific request just yet.
Why do you think you were drawn to sex work in general? Are you more outgoing than most? Lots of secret hidden traumas from the childhood? Or do you just like FREAKS n WEIRDOS deeply. . .
Personally, I’ve had my share of weird encounters with grownups, both as a young girl and now, but I wouldn’t define any of it as traumatic. I’d always been curious about sex, and, even at a young age, I would read works from Betty Dodson, Susie Bright, and Pat Califia to gain a liberating perspective on the matter. By the time I was in college, I felt so much pressure to maintain my grades and be successful that I, for once, just wanted to lose control and do something fun. And I loved sex. Why not go into sex work? And, what a beautiful choice. Never had I been so inspired to be a writer, an artist, and a feminist than when I performed onstage, in a fetish dungeon, or in front of a camera. And honestly, I do like the weirdos… mainly because I’m one of them.
BIO
Christina Cicchelli is a “Sexventurer” of sorts; she’s spent over five years as a sex worker and has experience in a myriad of industries, including phone sex and professional domination. As a Mistress, she has worked in several NYC Dungeons and also visited devoted clients on an independent basis. As a phone sex operator, she maintained a large amount of callers who sought her guidance, creativity, and experience in fetish and role-play.
Christina is best known for her career as a porn actress. Under the non de plume, Simone Valentino, she’s performed in a handful of films. She received an AVN nomination for “Best Actress” for her role in Afrodite Superstar and also won “Best New Starlet” at the Feminist Porn Awards in 2008 for her role in Audacia Ray’s The Bi Apple.
Christina is now monthly columnist for $pread Magazine and writes about all things fetish in own blog, A Fantastic Nightmare. She is also a Fetish Consultant for individuals and couples who are seeking some kinky inspiration.
August 14th, 2009
B-Pumps in Da Bump
Handsome young Brian Pumper, only 20 years old. I met him in the summer of 2002 when his body-fat percentage was .02 and he was climbing up the ladder of black male performers with a curious vengenance. Above him? Lexington Steele and Mr. Marcus, certainly. Arguably Wesley Pipes, with whom he did perform - because Wes was more fun to watch. Funnier. Though Pumper was funny himself. Mandingo dwarfed Brian peniswise, and B’s youthful contemporary, Justin Slayer, looked more like Usher, and may have been even more narcissistic. Yet Brian Pumper had his own way, his own charisma, his own freestyle fuckpatterns.
The young man from Long Island (Babylon, NY? I don’t remember. If he is indeed from the same hometown as Danny Green, incoming NBA rookie and one of this author’s all-time favorite Tarheels, then we got a lot to talk about) did not drive. He was instead toted around in a car or sometimes Limosuine, courtesy of super-agent Derrick King, one of the only black agents in the business around the turn-of-the-decade. King’s go-to limosuine driver was an elderly Alzheimerish Jew named Jerry, who can be heard during the first few moments of this videotape, his groanings and gruntings- I’d like it too. Hey Briiiii-an. I’d like it too. If it were my job.
Brian’s way was not super-stud games: he was a lover-boy, instead. How many times did I witness him sidling up to female talent - women he’d either just fucked, was in the process of fucking, or would eventually, and mumble-whisper under his breath, “I’m diggin’ you.” It was enough to make you laugh and love him. For Brian, jes bonin’ would never do: he wanted and needed a heart connection. He sniffed at women’s shoes, wore their panties on his head. Maybe it was to get a laugh and maybe it was a ruse for attention. Whatever. He was persistent. I saw him take away girlfriends from scenes. Mostly impressionable 18-year old white girls.
I remember him running around with a girl named Jennifer. She was from Long Island as well - maybe that was their connection - and wore deflated frecklish breasts. She was a strippa back home and seemed to tolerate Brian’s fits of whimsy with Italian-style good-humor. I filmed her getting fucked by four dudes outside on a lawnchair in warm October. Have almost no recollection of the actual occurences but have watched it on video several times. Pumper was not one of the four.
I remember an actress named Elizabeth. She couldn’t have done more than sixteen scenes in her career - one of those three-week girls. She wasn’t good-looking enough to have an extensive career; but since she was 18 and sinewy, she got work. Derrick King was her agent, no idea how he discovered her. Pumper was with her for a while, romantically - this little maladapted young woman with little tits and dried cum on her forehead and glasses - and I wonder exactly what they talked about when they were out for dinner. Munching burgers thoughtfully. Watching a Valley sun go down.
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August 2nd, 2009
Freaks of the Industry.
This is a random journal entry I found scrawled in the back of one of my notebooks, from the summer of 2004. I present it to you, unedited.
There’s just something charged & unique & horrid about driving deep into the heart of the belly of the beast - Chatsworth - and opening up a tinted black door that gives way to a flush of ice-cold air-conditioning, another world. I was going to retrieve some money from Multimedia, and of course, no money there. “Ashley didn’t talk to Jeff, so, I didn’t know you were going to get paid by us, I thought you were sort of with her” - and I felt like a kid, ready to cry, but that’s not what’s notable, what’s notable is the feeling inside the studio, a feeling that belongs to the office, not me - Jim Powers’ office, that abuts Johnny Thrust’s, where he’s grinning and goofy and talking smack about Iron Brandon, Jim Powers’ office, that contains a Gia, a PG - a porn girl, with glasses, remarkably sexy, glorious in her whorishness, and Jim says, “Sam! When are you going to draw me a Babysitter comic?” He’s roaring, and I’m stammering, and sad due to my lack of money, and I don’t fit in, but times have changed, and I’m glad not to fit in now - “Isn’t Gia cute?” says Jim, pouncing on her and squeezing her tits through the white tank top she wears, which shows off her dark tea-colored bra peeking through like a secret exposed, or blood, and to her this is the normalest thing in the world, this 41-year-0ld ex-punk director climbing on top of her and semi-humping her jeaned crotch, and she’s calm. “Yeah,” I admit, and not grudgingly at all, because she’s gorgeous, in a unique way, even when Jim goes back in the back and gets me a video that has a picture of Gia on it with a pig nose and the words “S-i-i-u-e-e!” emblazoned across her face.
Gia encourages me to draw the comic. Jim informs me that Carnal Comics has dibs on Girlvert. Jim gives me two DVDs to go along with the video. One’s “Filthy Things,” the other’s “The Babysitter.” I express my concerns that it’ll take too long to do a comic version of one of these pornos. Deep in my heart I know I’ll never do it. Gia makes me want to get a blowjob from Gia. I clutch the free porn to my chest, wave goodbye shyly to Jim & Gia, who begin talking to one another again before I leave that leather-couched room, that room that’s wallpapered with all the videos that Jim’s directed - all 500 or so, that room that’s been host to a score of freefucks and slob blowjobs - “Please Talk Quietly! AUDITION IN PROGRESS!” - It’s an energy - a vibe - a smell - an information - a negotiation - a feeling - a cast - a set of roles and behaviors - that I remember, but I haven’t felt it for a long time, and it took me by surprise on this Wednesday morning - between ten and eleven - in Chatsworth USA.
Jim and Gia
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July 29th, 2009
Genevieve DeKay: Goth Porn Girl
The onslaught of the video vault continues.
Genevieve DeKay was one of about thirty girls I shot doing interracial semi-pro porn in Long Beach in fall of 2001 - summer of 2002. Amongst her contemporaries are forgotten luminaries like Cherie (a Jewish girl who was kinda thick, had hebrew tatted onto her back, and appeared in Ice-T’s porn movie, in the hot muggy summer ‘02), Buffy Sinclair, Cindy Pink (aka Felecia), Alana Evans (where is she now?), “Honey” (I saw her again in late 2004 at an all-female bukkake; never mind), Bree Brooks (a tall Scandinavian who once starred in Thom Zupko’s Ass Clowns 3), Venus (former Penthouse Pet with an adorable bi-racial toddler and a Baby Daddy who stalked her - well - she was stalkable), and a few actresses who probably never even got names, they were so temporary. DK - Derrick King - supplied many of the actresses, though in the case of Genevieve, I got her from Reb’s Pretty Girl, International, home of Reb Sawitz, one and only.
Genevieve is notable mostly because she represented the beginning of a trend: the Suicide Girl, or the alt-porn star. I don’t know what became of Genevieve in the end - she was very nice - and whether she did in fact become a Suicide Girl - I suppose a simple internet search would tell me, but I just don’t have the patience - but she was about as close to the stereotype as you could get without having an eyebrow piercing.
I really have no stance on the whole SG/Eon McKai/Alt-porn trend - I like to mention it every so often, because I’m interested in fashion and trends as they pertain to porn - whatever people like to masturbate to, I’ll happily salute. I for one didn’t find Genevieve’s style overwhelmingly attractive - maybe that’s why I was able to conduct this interview with her with a minimum of sleaze. It really made things easier when I would shoot actresses for whom I had no desire, in fact. I would ruin everything by panting all over their aroma like a sick dog. But I was very horny throughout my career as a young pornographer. It was hard not to desire these young girls with near perfect bodies and the willingness to expose them. Really, things got simpler when I shot gay porn (04-05). I was so much more of an ethical person about the workplace. Perhaps I should be castrated. It would solve so many problems. Went to a Bob Dylan/Willie Nelson/ John Mellencamp concert last night at a minor-league ballpark and just walked around the track endlessly, glooming over girls and their bodies. My jaw hanging open. Things would be so much more simple in a world where I had no testicles. I can’t wait to get old.
Oh, and here’s a minor point of trivia in the case of Genevieve: she said during this interview that this was her first video shoot, and later I found out that she was lying. I have no idea why she fibbed - was she attempting to get a better paycheck? I paid her what I paid everybody else, $800. I never paid anybody more or less if this was their first time on camera or first anal or first interracial or anything. Why did she feel the need to lie to me? It’s such an unimportant question but I pose it anyway. The stakes are low, in blogville - I can pose anything I want.
Will I ever find out? Will Genevieve herself eventually find this post or perhaps more likely, the video of her interview on YouTube - and contact me to clear up this little mystery? The power of the internet: reuniting me with a pre-Suicide Girls goth porn actress ten years after the fact, to explain why she lied. You have to love it.
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July 28th, 2009
Wesley Pipes: Penitentiary
And here I present the final entry in my crowdpleasing Wesley Pipes marathon. Oh, I might have another clip or two knocking around somewhere, and you might see it before I am done, but tomorrow I will move on to a different porno subject, if only for the freeform fun of it.
But I’m curious to see what kind of response the ol’ Pipes brings from porno fans. Does he have his own base, who rabidly follow his every porno move? I would imagine that he does - in my mind, it would make perfect sense that Wesley has some hard-core devoteés. But you can never really tell with porn. That’s the beauty of porn and the curse of porn: it’s such an anonymous venture. Kids all across the land have pictures of Kobe Bryant up on their bedroom walls (mildly homoerotic, wouldn’t you say? Little suburban white kid having this picture of a half-naked black man with a perfect body, sweating and victorious, with the look of a hired killer in his eyes, perched above his four-poster suburban bed, probably keeping that poster up there from the age of 10 to 13 until he gets sick of the poster and tries marijuana for the first time and then crumples Kobe and puts up a framed Lynyrd Skynyrd black light number in its place?) No kid, teenager, or grown man in the entire universe has a Wesley Pipes poster up in his room. They simply don’t exist. And in any case, porn owns a different kind of fan action, is what I’m saying - though the athletic and charismatic principle is the same, and if Kobe doesn’t know Wesley’s body of work, then I think he should be introduced to it.
Really: who does Kobe watch, when he watches porn? You know that Kobe watches porn, cuz he’s sure as shit not fucking around behind his wife’s back again, if only for the simple reason that he doesn’t want to part with another six point five million dollar rock, which is what he bribed her with the last time around, Colorado Springs style. He’s not hammering random room service pussy anymore, we assume that - but a man’s a man, and Kobe’s as much of a man as the rest of us (except he’s part reptilian and his blood temperature is a chilly 6 degrees celcius). He has a laptop all his own; and he has some sort of privacy, I assume: my man’s watching porn.
Now, would Kobe watch an Eon McKai movie? I hate to be dismissive, but I don’t fucking think so. Maybe he’d watch a Brandon Iron venture, or a Khan Tusion piece of work, but I sorely doubt it and would in fact first wager on Tyler Hansborough making the NBA all-rookie team next year. Nope, Kobe’s more likely watching the kind of porn that I used to proudly produce: black-on-white, interracial slambangs starring men with whom he can identify and sympathize. Kobe’s watching Lexington Steele, Justin Slayer (does he still exist?), Brian Pumper, and Mr. Marcus. And he would have been watching Wesley Pipes - had Wesley Pipes not been doing two and a half year recently for carrying a pistol.
Isn’t that ironic? Pipes goes to jail - for a ridiculously long stretch - for carrying a firearm, in violation of his parole (initial sentence explicated by Pipes in the above video), while K. Bryant is free to roam the streets of Los Angeles despite doing vaginal damage to one Colorado Springs debutante. He dogged her worse’n’ he did Dwight Howard; and yet because of his superior lawyer, he’s absolutely free.
But then there was Michael Vick, who basically was in jail for the exact same amount of time as Wesley and in the precise same time period. (Though I think Vick served in Atlanta - am I wrong? - while Pipes was in California). No amount of good lawyering could save Vick from the rabid claws and teeth of the ASPCA, who wanted him behind bars for dogfighting. Um. Kay. Vick does two years for dogfighting, Pipes does two years for carrying a firearm, and Bryant gets off scott-free. I don’t hold judgements for any of this behavior - more, I just wonder whether Vick and Bryant - the best in their fields - even know about Pipes, who was the best in his field too, particularly around the time that I was shooting these interviews, which was summer 2002. In fact, he was nominated for AVN’s “Performer of the Year” that January 2003 - but Lexington Steele won it for the third time in a row and no one was suprised.
Ricky Henderson and Jim Rice were inducted to the baseball Hall of Fame yesterday. Did either of them tune in to YouTube to catch the latest installment of the Wesley Pipes anthology? Of course they didn’t - they were too busy reliving 1,026 stolen bases and 81 lead-off home runs (both major league records, set by Henderson, a jheri-curled madman who reminds everyone of Terrell Owens, just with more jheris.) They were too busy sniffing about the years 1977-1979, when Rice became the only player in major league history to notch more than 35 home runs and 200 hits in the same season three consecutive times. Did they watch out for their neglected brothers-in-porn? Did they mention them even ONCE in their acceptance speeches? No. Of course they didn’t. Because the connection is tangential at best, and I’m just breaking balls here.
In fact, what the hell am I talking about? I’m blathering on here. But I’m allowed to - I’ve done my job for the blog today, and that’s supplying you with indisputably valuable content. Wesley Pipes. Goddamn, I love having access to my video vault. It makes the job of blogging hardly a job at all.
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