“Come on, fucking come,” I mentally whispered. It would be my cue to join them.
I was playing a hooker today. Bobby and Monica were playing a curious couple who hired me. There’s something oddly self-referential about playing a hooker in a porno—I was getting paid to portray a woman who got paid to have sex. And also, of course, to have sex. It’s like a Russian dolls of sex workers.
As Monica’s body twitched, I walked in front of the camera and cupped my hand over her mouth. I gave her one last chance to gasp for air before clamping down on her face, and rubbed her clit hard as Bobby stuck his dick in her. No matter how aggressively she turned and twisted, I wouldn’t let her go, and I wouldn’t stop rubbing. She continued orgasming for another ten seconds, her muffled screams occasionally escaping through the cracks in my fingers, until I let her free to breathe. As she came down from the intensity, I kissed my way up from her knee to her toes, which curled when Bobby hit a good spot with his cock.
Bobby’s cock is great for porn. Big, straight, all one color. It was shiny from the juice coming out of Monica’s pussy, making it look as if Monica was giving birth to it. I dived down to suck the slime off, and as I put it back inside her pussy, I spit on my finger and slid it slowly into her asshole. She yelled for more and I stuck another one in. I watched Bobby’s dick go in and out of her pussy as I slid my fingers in and out of her ass. I could feel the camera over my shoulder, catching a close-up of the mesmerizing motion.
We made her come again, and I pushed Bobby out of the frame as I climbed on top of Monica to kiss her, then farther up her body until my pussy was on her face. She quickly took my cue to eat me out until I came, collapsing onto my back. Aware of the camera closing in on my face, I eye-fucked Bobby’s cock and licked my lips. It wasn’t hard to portray—I needed dick. I enjoy getting my pussy eaten as much as the next girl, but when there’s a cock in the picture, it feels kind of like going to a steak house and ordering the fish.
Like cock-hungry animals, Monica and I took turns riding Bobby’s dick for the following three positions. Finally, as Monica pushed her ass back on Bobby, I got down and licked Bobby’s ass. The Euro boys like that. Bobby moaned, and I could tell he was close to cumming. I kept licking, until he finally reached around and pulled me away from his ass by my hair. He grabbed Monica by the head as well, and placed us both on our knees in front of him and came on our faces, and in our mouths. With the cum still dripping off my face, Bobby dragged me up by my arm and bent me over the sofa in the back, and fucked me until I reached another orgasm. I dropped to my knees and crawled to Monica. I spit the remaining cum from my mouth to her pussy. Using my knee to push my hand, my fingers stuffed the cum into her. I fucked her like that until she crossed her eyes and lost it one last time. We made out as our hearts slowed down from racing, and the director yelled “Cut!”
Once in a great while, it happens: the Perfect Scene. It’s when everyone, both performers and crew, are all completely synced in energy. Every position, every transition flows organically. The performers lose themselves sexually, yet are fully aware of the camera at all times; the penetration is always on display. The lighting is impeccable, no weird shadows or flares. Animalistic, fluids everywhere, sweat, spit, squirt; the energy is at 100 percent the entire thirty-five minutes, with no cuts. Perhaps a crazy position is invented; standing reverse scissors against a spiral staircase.
You recognize it’s happening about halfway through, and once the guy releases a healthy pop shot and the scene is finished, the whole team acknowledges it. The excitement in the room is unmistakable, and everyone’s voices are at least a pitch higher than before the shoot started.
“Holy shit, great fucking scene!” the director will exclaim.
“I actually got a boner!” jaded cameraman number two will joke.
“That was one of my top ten scenes ever,” I’ll declare.
It feels something like just having done a first line of coke together, and everyone wants to talk at once and pat each other on the back for their respective role in the production. It’s a high, and every scene we shoot, it’s that feeling we are chasing.
A porn set is kind of like Vegas: What happens there, stays there. I always try to make as genuine a connection as possible. From the moment I walk on to the set, everything is dedicated to making the scene better. I get there on time. I laugh at all the jokes. I find something about my partner for the day that I like, whether it be sense of humor, muscular arm, musky scent, whatever. I pay attention to what they like, and try to exaggerate that. When we start having sex, I think about the cameras around us, capturing our sex for countless men to watch and jerk off.
At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, almost every time I shoot a sex scene, I fall a little bit in love. It’s the only way I can describe it. Not necessarily with my partner, but just in general. With the situation. In love with being watched. In love with being on display. In love with being the center of attention, for those precious thirty-five minutes. Many people say they disconnect themselves when they have porno sex; I’m the opposite. I’m more present than ever. I try to take in everything and let it turn me on more. Rather than numb myself, I take advantage of the situation and take in as much as I can. A producer set this up for me—to have sex with one of the top talents in the world, in front of a camera, giving me this opportunity to turn the world on; why would I remove myself? Why would I try to mentally put myself anywhere but here? I look into my partners’ eyes, and try to portray how much I want them. I tell them how much I like the way they fuck me. I show them how desperate I am for them to feel the same.
Then the guy shoots his load, or the girl will cum on my fingers one last time, the camera cuts, we take a shower, collect our checks, and it’s on with the rest of the day.
My very first scene, I took a bus from New York’s Port Authority station to Gina Lynn’s house in an Amish town in Pennsylvania, and worked for a measly five hundred dollars. When I got on that bus, I had a plan. I would do porn for two years, get it out of my system, save money, and open up a yoga studio.
Fast-forward close to six years, and I’m still in the business. I can’t imagine leaving right now. I’m still on my “high,” and I don’t want to come down. Porn has shaped me, is shaping me, into a woman I had always hoped I would be. I’ve become more confident, more empowered, more sure of myself than I’ve ever been. It’s a job, but I’m happy to do it every day. There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. I wish I could freeze time and live in this moment forever. I know the clock is ticking. I know soon I’ll be too old for this business, and it will be my time to move on to something else.
Legendary pornstar Julia Ann, who’s been in the business longer than I’ve probably been fucking, once told me a story I’ll never forget.
“I was watching an interview of myself from ten years ago. It was in the behind-the-scenes footage.”
“Hmm.”
“I turned to my costar, Janine, and told her, ‘If I’m still doing porn at thirty, I’m a fuckin’ loser!’ We laughed.”
Julia Ann is forty-four now. She’s found success in other ventures. She’s celebrated as a makeup artist and runs her own animal rescue business. She probably has more than enough to retire on.
But she hasn’t left porn.
In this way, I feel close to her.
2
Hooking
I’ve hooked twice. Well, technically three times—but twice was with the same guy.
So I don’t know if it counts.
The first time, I went with Laila. Fresh out of a long, drain-circler of a relationship, it was as if she had all of a sudden stormed into the escorting business with some