Category Archives: my life

A New Girlfriend?

Kali Roses on a Dogfart set with Jax Slayher and Rico Strong

I live in Porn Valley, and my place is in one of those large apartment communities. We have a common area. It’s the place we can hang out, barbecue and just chill. Socially distanced, too, which for me is a good thing.

Last Sunday, a New Girl showed up to our little party and introduced herself. Then she turned at looked at me. “What do you do for a living?”

For most people, it’s not a loaded question. Unlike most people, I have an usual occupation. It’s the kind of job either someone loves — or loathes. Like being a cop. Or a lawyer.

What’s some of the questions a person asks when they’re making a new friend? Name? Age? Occupation?

Something along those lines.

We can start off relationships (of any kind) with a lie — or the truth. When it comes to my occupation, depending on who asked, I used to lie. Now, I tell The Truth.

Here’s my reply — every single time now: I make dirty movies.

It’s a risky proposition. Either I’m The Champ or The Creep. This time I’m the champ. “Oh my god no way! You really do?!”

“Yes, he really does,” my neighbor The Fashion Photog replies. “Don’t you like the way Billy says it, too? Kinda cute huh? I make dirty movies.”

The Fashion Photog is broke. I’m not. Sometimes I think he’s kinda…aggravated with me?

Later, when the chair next to her opens up, New Girl eyes me, taps on the chair and kinda tilts her head to say, come sit by me.

Which I do. Of course. She’s cute. She’s age appropriate. And listening to her up til this point in the evening?

She’s interesting.

Turns out she’s a Dogfart fan, too. Doesn’t take too long before she tells me that. A huge Dogfart fan. Loves the way the models’  skin tones contrast. Loves BBC. Loves DP’s and double vag. “Especially double vag!” Loves gang bangs and blow bangs. Oh yea — “I love watching girls eating pussy, too! OK OK! Lemme guess! Dogfart from Dawg like they’re cool dudes and fart cause they butt fuck the girls all the time?!”

I say something like, “Well, for 17 years, I made those movies, and if you want me to go into the history of the name Dogfart…sure, I can do that too,” but all time time I’m thinking — maybe she’s The One! 

Not like “the one The One”, but more like maybe I’ve got a shot at a civilian girlfriend! Someone who’s cool with what I do. Someone who won’t ask me to quit a month into the relationship. Someone who won’t bust my balls after I get home from a long day at work.

And as I’m fantasizing about all this, she mentions my other  fan. “My husband loves your work, too! He’s a huge fan! You have to meet him! Oh my gosh sometimes we’ll make fun of one another when we jump on our tablet and go through the browser’s history to see what we’ve been pervin’ out on over at X Vids or XNXX! He’s the best!”

Billy’s Wild Days, Part I


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

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

It seems like yesterday.

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

Here’s a typical day:

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

11am — Aimee Tyler interracial gangbang in the kitchen.

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

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

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

11pm catch Curb Your Enthusiasm!

Monday thru Thursday, then break for the weekend.

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

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

Shit like that.

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

But shit we had a lot of fun.

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

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

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

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

There’s Something About Jayma.

Jayma Reed Ried Reid Kymber Troy interracial sex

I log into the members’ area at Blacks on Blondes, usually on Mondays (cause that’s when it updates). I log in so I can see how the members rate my work.

Their favorite scene features Annette Schwartz, the German Wonder.

Their second-favorite scene features Annette Schwartz, the German Wonder.

The bronze medal winner usually varies, but it’s usually Bree Olson, Sasha Gray, or Dana DeArmond.

There’s probably 300+ scenes at Blacks on Blondes –60 (or so) DVD’s worth — and when we’re talking Annette, or Bree, or Sasha, or Dana, we’re talking the cream of the porno crop.

But I didn’t really have to tell you that.

Maybe that’s why they get paid the big bucks?

Anyway, sometimes when I log in to see what the members are thinking, I poke around the site…sorta like a stroll down memory lane. It’s fun, too, cause there’s some many memories for me packed into that site.

Like Jayma.

Hanging with Jayma at the Chateau Marmont.

Swimming with Jayma in Hawaii.

Watching Chico Wang direct Jayma in a “love making scene” with The Minion.

Jayma getting railed in a museum by a crew of ill-behaved Negros.

Jayma Jayma Jayma!

The next thing I know I’m beating it.

To her scene at Blacks on Blondes, of course…the one I just mentioned. Max Black is a rap star, and he’s with his posse at a museum, and Jayma’s a student, and she’s studying Egyptology, and Max and his crew is clowning, and making all sorts of noise, and Jayma asks them to be quiet, and the next thing you know there’s all sorts of debauchery and tom foolery going down.

And I’m beating off like a monkey in the zoo.

This is big news for me. Very big news. Cause I’ve never jerked to a movie I’ve directed. And I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve jerked to porn since I started making porn.

And my load?



I’m pretty sure I moaned like a bitch; I should have rubbed my nipples as I was cumming like a bitch, too.

In other words, No Way Am I Gay.

Then, something really weird: during the clean-up process, I couldn’t find the load. I went and got baby wipes from the bathroom, and I searched high and low for the mess…but nothing.

Maybe I lost it in the area rug?

Maybe it’s like one of those massive poops you think you just dropped in the toilet…but it turns out to be a mouse turd?

Maybe I was Ben Stiller, searching for the load that was stuck to the side of my head? So I ran into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

But nothing.

After 10 fruitless minutes of searching for The Massive Load That Wasn’t, it was time for nite nite.

The Massive Load That Wasn’t wore me out.

And in the morning, The Massive Load That Wasn’t remained a mystery to me…until I discovered my DVD player — the one I keep next to my desk –was glazed in a yellowy-white frosting that was beginning to curl at its hardened edges. The same DVD player in which I practice my yoga with my beloved yogi, Karen Voight. It’s a good 3 feet away, and when I tell you it was covered in my old, foul splooge…well, it was.

The Massive Load That Wasn’t really was.

Oh, joy!

A little Windex and piece of paper towel meant clean-up was a snap.

Jayma Reed Ried Reid Kymber Troy interracial sex

Waiting on the Pop Shot.

Kinzy Jo

When I was a jock, I waited on hitting the right position.

When I was a student, I waited for the end of the semester.

When I worked security at concert venues, I waited for gate crashers.

When I was sold cars, I waited on “The Ups”.

When I was a bar room bouncer, I waited on the fake ID’s. And the fistfights.

When I sold stocks and bonds, I waited for the Social Security Number.

When I taught, I waited for The Excuses & The Lies.

When I labored on construction sites, I waited for the injuries…and the end of each and every day.

When I was unemployed, I waited for the state’s check in my mailbox.

Now, I wait for The Pop Shot.

Usually — but not always — in my flannel PJ’s.

My New Gal? (Part 5).

Jayma Reed

We left Bungalow 3 and walked the property a bit.

We held hands.

We got to know each other.

We kissed some more.

We snooped around, hoping for a celebrity encounter of some sort. (I was the one really hoping for a good celeb sighting).

We took pictures. (I took pictures).

We went back to our room.

I can’t being to tell you how soft and comfortable the beds are at the Chateau Marmont. Or the linens. Or her skin. We made out and talked and then made out some more. We laughed and discovered things about each other. We watched TV. We ordered room service. We made out and I touched her skin and it was soft and I started to take her clothes off. We made out like middle school kids after the dance.

“I wish I wasn’t broken,” she said.

She was still hurting, and I knew that. Her tonsils were swollen to the point she couldn’t really eat anything from room service.

“I wish I wasn’t broken,” she said, again.

“You’re not all that broken,” I said.

She stopped me when I tried to take off her panties and she said it again: “I wish I wasn’t broken.”

What’s that mean, exactly?

Well, for starters, it wasn’t just her throat that was broken, and after a minute or so of some oral pleasure, she was all done – because her throat hurt so badly. And it didn’t take very long for her to tell me that, in addition to her tonsils, her V-Jay Jay was broken, too.

V-Jay Jay is her word for vagina.

Ba-gina is my word for it.

Either word works just fine for me.

“Turn off the lights,” she said. “I have something special for you. Just lay back and close your eyes.”

“Now that’s what I’m taking about!”

In an instant the room was dark, and I was naked and my dick was hard enough to open a beer bottle. And I laid back on that wonderful bed after the lights went off and I closed my eyes. She got on top. She rubbed around a bit and then she slipped it in…to her open hand.

After she licked it.

And it took a few strokes before I realized that, while this tight wet thing kinda felt good on my weiner, it wasn’t her V-Jay Jay. Or her Ba-gina. Because it was broken.

She rode me a bit, and she moaned a bit, and she grinded a bit, and finally I asked, “um, what are you doing?”

“Almost sex.”

“Almost sex?”

“Almost sex.”

I looked up at her. I said it again. She confirmed. She continued to ride. Then I asked, “are you using Almost Sex as a proper noun? Like, did you name this thing you’re doing “Almost Sex”, or are we just almost having sex?”

She said, “I call it that. Almost Sex. It’s got a name. I do it to all the Mormon boys back home. They love it.”

I laid my head back in my pillow. It was the softest pillow I’ve ever rented for a night. She kept giving me Almost Sex while I looked up at the ceiling. It was dark, but not too dark to see her, or her swollen throat, or my dick going in and out of her hand as she rode me. It wasn’t too dark to see the ceiling either, and it was a very expensive ceiling. To my right was the $28 dish of spaghetti she didn’t eat, on the nightstand, next to the tiny piece of $12 flourless chocolate cake she didn’t eat, either. The powdered sugar on that cake looked like very expensive powdered sugar. Probably the most expensive powdered sugar in the whole wide world.

Then, I closed my eyes.

I did my best to enjoy Almost Sex.

I closed my eyes to Almost Sex and prayed for her to slip it into her V-Jay Jay.

Super Minion

My New Gal? (Part 4).

Bungalow 3

I’ve been weirdly obsessed with the Chateau Marmont since John Belushi drew his last breath there, in Bungalow 3, in March of 1982.

I was a senior in high school, and I was a Belushi fan, like most 17 year old boys then. I was nuts for his work on SNL, and in Animal House, and even though Neighbors was a bit uneven, I still liked it. (Maybe I should watch it again…the last time I saw it was in the theater, and I’m thinking its humor wasn’t targeted at the same audience as, say, Animal House).

I even forgave Belushi for The Blues Brothers…but I’ll never forgive Aykroyd, Belushi’s little brother, or John Goodman for Blues Brothers 2000.

In 1982 I was almost an adult, driving my dad’s El Camino and listening and listening to one of the bad FM stations then. I remember driving down Tatum, near Shea, which is a big intersection in the neighborhood I grew up in. I think I had just left McDonald’s (which is still there) cause my friend Ellen L. would hook us up with free cheesburgers. That’s when the radio said John Belushi was just found dead at his bungalow in Hollywood and I was immediately bummed out – as well as curious.

What’s a bungalow? And why in the world is he dead?

Knowing where you were and what you were doing when someone who mattered to you died – long after it all went down – is an interesting thing. Remember where you were when either Kennedy was whacked? (I wasn’t born yet for number 1, and way too young for number 2). How about when Hinckley tried to take out Ronny Reagan? Maybe you remember what was happening when Cobain stuck the gun in his mouth (on my way home from teaching school), or maybe, even, um, when Tu Pac or Biggie got whacked (…when did that happen again?)

Anyway, I wanted to see Jayma after our first date, and I did. It was the next day, as a matter of fact, and it was a totally non-porno, non-sexual event. Well, kinda, anyway. I picked her up at The Porno Hotel in Porno Valley, and we just hung out. We went to a used book store (I scored a first edition of Crumb’s Fritz The Cat and a review copy of Harry Crews’s Florida Frenzy!!!), ran a few errands, got to know each other better, and (somehow) ended up at Chico Wang’s to watch him direct The Minion and Haley Scott; Chico was shooting his Minion scenes and now calling them “romantic”…today The Minion is terribly concerned as Miss Scott’s had a foot injury. The Minion picked her up at the hospital, took her home, and brought her into the room in a wheel chair.

From there, they made beautiful music as Chico rolled tape.

Afterward, I was kinda bummed, cause Jayma had to go home, and I had to go home, but I really wanted to see her again.

How about you come when I’m out in LA working, and we stay in a really nice hotel? We can just hang out. I won’t expect sex, and I’ll be a gentleman, and we can just get to know each other better…

She agreed, of course, cause here I am, telling you about The Chateau and John Belushi and myself and Jayma Reed. We were pretty much holed up at the Chateau for three days. She still wasn’t feeling well; her tonsils were ridiculously swollen and instead of looking like tonsils they more resemled a small fruit – like a tangerine, maybe. I really can’t say I was holed up, cause I would leave during the day to make dirty movies…but she didn’t leave at all, even when I told her Parker Posey was roaming around with her little white doggie – or there might be some fun celebrity sightings down by the pool.

I don’t think she ever left the room, and that was fine by me.

We learned some things about each other during those three days, and she asked I watch what I say here. At first, I wasn’t sure I could keep such a promise, but I have, so far. But I’ll tell you this: I made her come with me to Bungalow 3, and we talked about Belushi, and she told me she’s spoken to dead people in her past, and that’s fine by me, too.

We stood at the door of Bungalow 3.

We kissed.

I took a picture of the door they wheeled John Belushi’s dead body from almost 25 years ago.

We stood there a bit more.

Then we kissed, again.

We stood there a bit more.

“Do something,” I said.

She looked at me. “What do you want me to do?”

“I dunno. Something that would make his ghost smile.”

Bungalow 3

My New Gal? (Part 3).


We lost the car. Or, I lost the car. We had walked all the way back from the beach, up and down 2nd street in Santa Monica, and we couldn’t find the parking structure where our car was parked, mainly because all the parking structures looked the fucking same. We walked and walked and walked and walked, and no car, and all the while J. Sinn kept complaining, “My dick is really, really hard!”

I wonder if that’s cause Jacky Joy was riding around on his back, rubbing her pussy all over him. She was tired of walking, so she hopped on J., and I’m sure this was causing his woody. Either that or the fact that, for the last hour or so, we had just watched Jacky and Jayma wrestle around in the surf, making out the whole time.

And the more J. Sinn kept complaining about his stiff weiner, the more Jayma giggled. The more they both giggled. But I think I’ve mentioned this already.

For awhile, I really thought the car was stolen, but we finally found it. Which is where things got interesting. Actually, things got interesting on the 405, just a bit south of Sunset. That’s about the time she decided to take J Sinn up on his offer to make her squirt. She thought she wasn’t able to squirt; J. Sinn told her otherwise.

But I should back up.

J. Sinn learned how to make girls squirt from Dr. Phil Good, who learned how to make girls squirt from the master of making girls squirt – Axel Braun.

Axel Braun. He’s a funny guy. I read one of his dirty screenplays, once. It made me laugh. Why in the world would anyone write a screenplay for a dirty movie? I wonder if he story boards his dirty movies, too. Funny.

Anway, J. Sinn kept asking, over and over, if Jayma would allow him to make her squirt. And she was into it, and I was into watching it, so the next thing you know, Jayma’s jumping in the back, and Jacky’s jumping up front with me, and instantly Jayma’s shorts and panties are around her knees, and Jacky’s up front, and taken control of the radio, and my beloved Indie 103 is off, and something godawful is on, and it’s sure as shit definately on in the back seat, cause J. Sinn’s arm is moving a mile a minute, which is almost as fast as I’m driving down the 405, and in between lane changes and dodging other cars, I’m doing the best I can to enjoy the show.

And what a show!

Jayma’s head was buried somewhere under J. Sinn, and I think he was trying to fuck her, too; but she’s totally into teasing guys, and that’s exactly what she did. J would go back and forth – between trying to fuck her and make her squirt with his fingers; and I was going back and forth – between watching out for exit ramps and other cars; and Jack Joy was going back and forth – between one shitty radio station after another.

In the end, Jayma squirted. Everywhere. I’m glad the car was a rental, cause the back seat looked like someone dumped over a 5 gallon jug of water.

We piled out of the car, and I walked my date up to her room, and kissed her goodnight, and we made plans for the following day.

All in all, it was a good first date.

My New Gal? (Part 2).

Jayma Reed

She called me the next day, after the Brandon Iron fiasco. I won’t go into our conversation here, cause sometimes things need to be personal, even on an internet porno blog…but she was scheduled for a shoot in a few hours, at Nicky Milo’s studio right down the hall. She was shooting a lesbo thing with Jacky Joy, her porno pal, and we agreed to go out afterward; I’d take them both out to dinner.

Nicky did his thing, and I did my thing, and at the end of the day, we were together and heading out to Santa Monica. That’s about the time J. Sinn showed up. J. Sinn is male talent, and he also works at Shane’s World as a production manager. He’s kinda out of a place to stay right now, so he crashes at the studio, in our Green Room. J’s a cool cat, and to top it off, his big sister is Bella Donna.

I love Bella Donna.

It’s funny, cause back at Dogfart’s secret mansion on the top of the hill, Bella seemed to be around a lot. She’s the one who introduced me to Boo D. Licious. She’s the one who introduced me to Nacho Vidal. I watched Bella piss all over Austin O’Reilly, once. Or maybe Austin pee-pee’d all over Bella. She’s also the one who shot the most extreme anal scene I’ve ever witnessed…so extreme, it was never shown publically. She’s the one Diane Sawyer fucked with on 20/20, and Bella held her own.

That’s cause Bella’s bad to the bone.

J. Sinn. Bella Donna’s baby bro. In the porno business. We had booked him for an Eat Some Ass scene, and now he’s in tow, bringing up the rear of our porno gang – and he’s Jacky Joy’s “date”.

No one’s been to Santa Monica – except me – so we’re off, and on the way, somewhere near the 405 and the 10, J. Sinn and my gal discover they’re both Mormons. I could blog and blog and blog about that kooky group of Christians who call themselves The Church of Latter Day Saints, but I’ll save that for later.

And at the dinner table, those two hit it off like champs. A real bond. The Mormon brethren were at it, recollecting their days in Utah, and having a blast. I was too, really, cause she was running her finger up and down my leg under the table, and we held hands walking down the Promenade, and listening to two Porno Mormons comparing notes over dinner is a very interesting conversation – trust me.

Did I mention the whole time Jacky Joy sent text messages to God-knows-Who? I bet that Dirty Pirate Hooker sent 200 messages by the time I paid the bill.

Afterward, the four of us walked the Santa Monica pier; we were hand-in-hand, me and her, and that’s all I really remember. We walked in the sand, too, and the girls ran in the surf, and Jacky lost her phone, and me and J Sinn talked shop, and all-in-all the night was a very good thing.

Here’s the weird part, and I might as well get it over with now: I’ve got this weirdo thing going on with my sexuality right now; specifically, I think it would be kinda hot to have a slutty girlfriend who did naughty things with guys and girls while I watched. Oh sure, it’s normal to wanna watch your gal – or your wife – lez off with another chick…but bringing a dood into the game is weird, and I’ll be the first to admit it. Five years ago, I woulda knocked a dood out if he made a pass at my chick; now, I find it kinda hot.

There’s something wrong with me.

OK – now that I got that off my chest, I might as well talk about losing the car, and looking all over for it, and that’s when J Sinn was flirting heavily with both girls, and he kept saying, over and over, his dick was hard…which made the girls giggle. And Jacky wasn’t paying much attention to him, but I knew my date was, and things were about to get really crazy.

There’s something very wrong with me.

Mandingo and Zoe

My New Gal? (Part 1).

Jayma Reed

It’s tough being in the porno biz and maintaining any sort of “normal” relationship. Let’s face it: it’s tough being alive today and maintaining any sort of “normal” relationship. Add porno into the mix, and you’re doomed. At least that’s been my experience.

It’s a catch-22, really. “Normal” girls – the ones outside my business – will have nothing to do with a porno dude, whether or not he’s in front of (or behind) the camera. Trust me, I know. Even the ones who are really into sex draw the line when you admit you make a living from porn.

And porn girls? They’re so fucking crazy anyone would have to be crazier to date one of them.

So, for what seems like forever, I’ve been single. And before forever, I spent 6 months in a long-distance relationship with G that was nothing more than arguing over the phone whenever I was in LA working; and to complicate this, G had moved away two years earlier, after a nasty break-up.

And in between the time G moved away and we got back together with our long-distance shit, I spent a year living with S. She would scream at me whenever I was in LA working. My fondest memories of with S were the 2 am phone calls, after she had “found” me surfing one of my sites, then wake me up from a sound sleep, weeping:

that’s you fucking that whore Ice LaFox …you can’t fool me!

no Honey Bunny, that’s Jeremy Steele.

that’s you fucking that whore Fiona Cheeks …you can’t fool me!

no my Love, I told you already, I don’t fuck these girls. Fionna jacked me off as part of the scenario. That’s not sex! Anyway, an Aussie guy whose name I can’t remember is banging her, and if it would make you happy I’ll find his model release and show it to you.

that’s you fucking that whore Chloe Dior …you can’t fool me!

no Sweetie Pie, that’s Tyler Durden…please look closely…he’s got a Big Porn Star dick and I’ve got an Average Joe dick.

that’s you fucking that whore Sally Rodeo …you can’t fool me!

no Pookie, that’s Trevor, look closely at his face…does he really look like me?

And honestly, I don’t blame G or S. Not one bit. I wouldn’t have tolerated me, either.

Being single isn’t a bad thing; in fact, most of the time I love it. There’s nights I feel a bit lonely, and it’s those times it would be nice just laying next to someone, talking about whatever there is to talk about. Or just laying there and holding someone. Or, God forbid, doing both! I guess what I’m trying to say is maybe I’m ready to have a girlfriend.

Who knows.

I shot a girl last month who, on the surface, is about as even-keeled as anyone I’ve met in this business. I shot her again a few days later; and then, on my last trip to LA, I shot her one more time. She’s not a typical porno girl: she’s not into getting high; there’s no suitcase pimp following her around; and probably the best part…she’s got an IQ that actually registers in the triple digits.

After sleeping on it for a few days, I put the word in to her agent. I also flirted with her the best I could, and I asked for her number, and I smiled whenever I was around her cause that’s the way she makes me feel…especially when she handed me a little piece of paper with her number scribbled on it.

I used to hate text messages, but I see now there’s a place for them, so our first round of vollies comes in that form – let’s hang out – OK! 🙂 – let’s have dinner – OK!! 🙂 and bladda bladda blah.

Next up: a late-night phone call that lasted almost 90 minutes. I haven’t talked on the phone to any one person that long since 1992.

During our concersation, we planned some time to hang out; and when that time came, I called her to confirm, and she sounded excited. Of course I’m excited. And less than 10 minutes later my phone rings, and it’s her.

Sore throat. Really bad. Hurts something awful. My agent has to take me to Emergency Care. I can’t swallow. It shouldn’t take long…wanna try for later tonight?

I bite my lip and tell her sure thing. Then I remind her how long it takes to get anything done in Emergency Care, and maybe it would be best to reschedule. She agreed.

I’m also a bit curious as to what transpired in the 10 minutes she went from being excited about Hanging Out Time to Emergency Room Time, and I started to think this is what you get for asking a porno girl out on a date…and then I realized my pal Jimmy Hat had just spent the whole day with her. I mean that very day. Shot her for hours.

Of course I call him to see what’s up, and sure enough, she never once mentioned anything to Jimmy about a sore throat. Not a thing. In fact, she left his place with a slice of pizza and a smile on her face. Jimmy ended my call with something like, “dude, what the fuck are you thinking about asking a porno whore out on a date? Why don’t you just pay for a POV or something?”

“I have a feeling this girl is different…I dunno.”

“Dude, you’re on crack. If you need a friend, come have dinner with me.”

So I did. Cause I did.

As I’m leaving to meet up with Jimmy, I get an apologetic text message, with a reassurance she really did want to have dinner…and can we try again?

We set a time for the Wednesday night – around 7.30.

So why not fast forward to Wednesday night, 7.30? Cause at that time I’m over at Chico Wang’s with The Minion, and Chico, and Hung Lo, just talking shop. But I’m not really all there, cause I’m waiting for a phone call from a girl. She’s on set, doing a BJ scene, and trust me, if someone would have told me a year ago I’d be waiting on a girl to finish up blowing a dude before I took her on a date, well…I’d have punched their teeth loose.

Anyways, I’m waiting on my date to finish blowing a dude before I take her out.

Soon it’s 8, and then it’s 8.30, and I’m being patient while The Minion shows me clips from ECW (when it was good) but I’m really not paying much attention cause I’m waiting for a phone call from a girl.

At 9 my phone rings.

Turns out my date is on her way to Brandon Iron’s for another scene. To blow more dudes. I want to ask her about our 7.30 gig, but I don’t; again, I bite my lip and hang up just as Sabu takes out whoever it is he’s wrestling.

The Minion smiles.

I frown.

Then I think fuck this…I’m all done. This is all done. Done before it even got a chance to start.

If it was only that easy.

Back to the studio

Mia Bang

I’ve been lazy with my blog lately, and there’s a couple reasons why.

First and foremost, I’m burned out. I don’t even want to think about porn – let alone attempt to write anything about it. That’s why you’ve seen 2 interviews and a bunch of down days, with no entries at all. Can you imagine that? Getting burned out on taking pics and movies of nekkid chicks…people fuckin’ and suckin’.

I think in the last two months I’ve shot something like 40 scenes. Maybe more. I think I should look at my calendar and see what that number is. In addition to all the work, I’ve had some nutcases in the studio, too. I don’t even want to get into specifics, but shit man…this business is a circus. And it attracts some loonies – that’s for sure.

That’s what’s got me down most, I think.

I left LA last week and came home for a few days, and now I’m back again, to knock off the December contract work I have booked. I shot Mia Bang, today, if that means anything at all to you. I even knocked out a set of pretty girls with her, too…in addition to the b/g/g we shot. All in all a productive day.

Me and Mia go way back. I’ve shot her a bunch of times, and it’s always a good thing when she makes her way to my studio. We got her in the Gloryhole, too. Today she shot one of the sites I can’t really talk about.

So there’s Spring Thomas scenes this week, as well as two sites that haven’t launched yet. I can’t mention anything about them until they’re live. I think I’m gonna get a JOMG scene shot, too…and maybe even another new site I can’t talk about, too.

My pal Noah today asked me who I’m shooting: Savannah Stern, Mia Bang, Michelle Sweet, Chelci Fox, Sophia, Raquel Devine, as well as the usual girls – Spring Thomas and the two I can’t talk about right now.

All these girls and sites I can’t talk about. Silly, huh?

I’ll try and knock out a MILF scene for Blacks On Blondes, too – as well as jumping in the van and hitting the Gloryhole. Oh…did I mention the MILF might bring her whimpy, cuckold hubby to sit in and watch? Yea…it could get nutty. That’s the Raquel Devine job. Michelle Sweet is gonna get it from some well-hung brothas, as well…and both of them are stepping up to the hole.

Should be an interesting week. Let’s see what happens. In the meantime, there’s Mia Bang’s DD fun bags.


Mia Bang