while surfing another forum, someone linked this thread by performer Tyler Knight, it dates back to 2010, I haven't read all 13 pages but his posts in the first two pages are pretty gloomy, porn definitely doesn't look like a business a sane person would like to be involved in
http://chuckpalahniuk.net/forum/1000026/ask-a-pornstar
some excerpts
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Z wrote:
This is probably a girly question. Do you LIKE doing porn?
I don't mean in some holier than thou way, I'm asking if it's like fun for you, or does it turn you on?
Gynecologists have to stare at vaginas all day, but it's not fun for them I wouldn't think! So, is it the same? Is it just a job, or are you like "Hell yes, PORN TIME"?
Excellent question. The business impacted me in several, profound ways that I never could have predicted.
I did enjoy every day at first. I still do sometimes when I get to have fun shooting guns in the desert, or if my costars are cool. There are a couple of girls I really enjoy as people, and the actual sex part can be pretty good. Most times, it's work. There is nothing worse than being cast with someone whom you don't like and having to have sex with them. Looks only go so far. Especially when you are as desensitized to sex as I am. My job is to keep suspension of disbelief, and to hide the man behind the curtain, so to speak.
*Note:The following has been copy and pasted from another thread, because I can't answer the question better than I did the first time.
This business, no matter who you are as on-camera talent will change you. Period. It changes you in ways you would not expect--it creeps up on you in degrees.
When people speak of the emotional well being of persons being exploited (by others or themselves) in porn, they never refer to the boys. That's a shame because as men, we are less equipped to deal with the shit that goes on inside of us than women.
Lookit, I get paid to objectify women--to relegate them to non-human instruments of carnal pleasure--so that others can pay to do so vicariously through me. You can't just turn that shit off . At best, it will desensitize you to sex of any meaning with your significant other, which is what you've no doubt experienced. Non-existent sex with a pornstar. Irony is a bitch.
When I was 12, and discovered the Sears catalog, the models in conservative underwear used to do it for me. De-sensitivity has moved the bar of stimulation to magazines like Playboy, to eventually later down the road, even the most depraved sexual acts don’t even phase me. A three-titted midget juggling flaming chainsaws would get a yawn from me.
Funny enough, now days, I prefer example, watching a cute girl dressed normally riding a bike down the street, and wondering what she looks like naked, and what kind of sexual animal she is behind closed doors. What nurturing does this pretty flower need to get it to bloom sexually in front of my eyes, as we are all unique sexual animals. In short, I like to leave a lot to the imagination. That’s what does it for me, not ass on display. That’s a turn off.
With respect to my girlfriends privacy, I’ll just say that the frequency of sex between us is no where near what she would like. I know this may be hard to comprehend, but a lot of times, I just don’t even want to be touched (at home, or on set when I’m about to work for that matter).
At all.
Personally, after seeing girls throwing their sexuality out there so blatantly for me on set, I tend to gravitate to more “meat and potatoes” sex in my personal life. I would never let my GF do some of the things to/with me that I go through every day on set. I try to keep a shred of normalcy any way I can. The fact that I don’t live in Porn Valley, never socialize with my peers, and I actually have to commute to get to work should tell you a lot. She is my oasis, and my escape from the Fellini-esque sexual world I occupy.
We have been together before I entered into the business. Officially, we are monogamous but I'm not perfect. It's simple. I do my best which 98.9% of the time I'm able to be good but the 1.1% of the time I fail we don't talk about it. Ever. It works.
Sometimes girls will throw themselves at me on sets when we are not even cast to work together. Other times, we've...extended the scene long after the camera has cut and the crew has left or we end up someplace else to continue.
Then there are times when I'm taking a break from a scene and some new googley-eyed girl(s) decides she wants to "fluff" and then I end up fucking more girls than was scheduled. Contract girls from studios that "officially" won't do an interracial sex scene but can't get my cock inside their mouths fast enough in some hotel.
Can't forget the women at conventions when I sign autographs for Playgirl that only a man possessing the highest degree of character could walk away from.
Fucking Christ, you should see some of these civilian women. I'm human.
Vegas during the AVN awards? Forget it. Fuck-a-thons, limos, and God knows where you wake up. I don't put myself in that situation and have not gone in years. They mail my awards to me. This shit changes you. Dealing with it, for me, has been a series of bulwarks and dammage controll.
Scores upon scores of couples that want to pay me and fly me all over the world to fuck the wife/girlfriend while the bf or hubby watches but I've always passed on those. Too weird.
Frankly, I'm not terribly comfortable revealing a lot of this now--I'm fiercely private (funny choice of profession, right?) and the guilt fucks with me.
I wrote a 3,000 word stream-of-consciousness piece in one sitting about one such 18 year old civilian girl with an ancillary (off camera) job in the business everybody, and I mean everybody wanted to fuck. I could live ten lifetimes--as prolific as I am--and never have anything as good. One day on set during down time she snuggled up to me and told me she had never been with a black guy before...
I hinted at this girl in one of my stories; that was the catalysts for some serious self-examination. I've been good since. This was during a dark period of my life (I won't elaborate farther) and the timing could not have been worse.
Part, if not all of the appeal I seem to have over these girls is I am the one person that treats them like a human being--and acknowledges that they like everyone else dreams and fears. There are many good people in porn but plenty others, including(especially) those in positions of power--agents, studio execs, directors--discount talent, male and female, as vapid refuse. Even if that's true, nobody want's to be told that they are less-than. Maslow one-oh-fucking-one.
I got this treatment at first until I put motherfuckers in their places which is why there is a long list of studios and directors on my no-list and 1/2 the industry can't stand me and will never hire me. That, and I write about the losers on my blog. I at least have some tools to deal with the unique issues that come with the job.
I can't wait til my writing takes off and it's vaja-con-Dios, bitches to porn.
I'm not the same man I was when I entered the adult industry eight years ago. God bless my girlfriend for tolerating me. It's not easy.
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Freemena wrote:
Tyler Knight wrote:
nathaniel parker wrote:
I find your claim to have started porn in 2002 highly suspect. I remember seeing porn well before the turn of the century.
I still haven't gotten used to the term "Turn of the century" to mean 21st, not the 20th.
My first day was October 7, 2002. It was the third worst day of my life. Stroking a non responsive penis for an hour in front of maybe 40 strangers is something you don't forget easily.
You didn't have a fluffer? What cheapskates!
Fluffers went away back in the '90s. Ive seen one set with fluffers in the past eight years. Nowadays, you either take a Viagra, or shoot your penis up with an embalming fluid called Caverject.
This is designed for quad, and paraplegics so they can have sexual relations. You inject the needle directly into the side of your penis. It has since fallen into the hands of 20 and 30 something porn stars.
The downsides to Caving are numerous, including when it does not drain or absorb into the body after sex. You have to get your penis lanced with a scalpel to drain excess fluid.
Also, there is an open, bleeding wound at the injection site. Anal sex is commonplace. The obvious risks of STD and HIV transmission are ignored by and large. As long as the sex looks good on camera.
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aushatch0206 wrote:
Can you get rich doing porn? Obviously, you can make a living. But a comfortable living?
God no. Prior to the recession, you could make a great living as an a-list talent. Thanks to the economy, piracy, and torrent if you make a living consider yourself lucky.
Pre '08, a good male talent could earn 10-20k a month. A female talent, upwards of 30k.
The industry is going through a period of attrition and will stabilize eventually but those days are gone, never to return.
Porn-as-career for me is a situation of diminishing returns, financially. I don't see myself doing it this time next year.
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ScubaSteve1729 wrote:
What exactly does a vagina feel like?
Not for me! A friend wants to know.
You are six years old. It's Christmas morning. You run down the stairs and see that big box with the red bow. Your heart races and your little fingers can't tear into the wrapper fast enough. The gift is exactly what you wanted all year long. Better than you even imagined--you can't believe it's actually yours.
Time goes on. Each time you play with the toy, it's never quite the same as the first day, until the moment comes that you want something new.
You're hooked for life. You need to replicate that pulse quickening feel of anticipation. The bliss you felt the first time. Feel the velvet bow untie in your fingers. Rip the wrapper off...
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LeHaHi wrote:
Describe your funniest or most embarrassing story from the job. Like, something gleeful, or someone did something, and everyone, cast and crew, stopped and laughed out loud.
That would have to be the cuckold scene last year. These are scenes where the husband watches as you bang the wife. Often times insults are hurled at the hubby. The humiliation factor is important. The studio this is for shoots me regularly and I get a gig a month from them in their more tame movies. They focus on niche markets including scenes where the male talent is dressed in diapers and a baby bonnet with a huge pacifier in his mouth. The “Mom” then shoves a huge milk bottle up his ass. I always know what the scenario is before I ever step on set but there is always an element of “Surprise motherfucker!” to this studio’s sets.
I am a real estate agent showing million dollar homes to a young couple. The girl is a barely legal blonde Tara Lynn Fox, and the guy playing the hubby is some guy the studio probably got off Craigslist of something. Something is off about him but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I notice he is almost as pretty as the girl. Eh, whatever.
So I am showing the living room to the couple and the hubby has to go out to take a phone call. This is Tara’s cue to put the moves on me and close a little side deal. Cheesy dialogue which consists of me fighting off her advances for about 20 seconds, and she is chugging cock. Hubby comes back into the house and is supposed to be pissed.
Except if I did not know any better, I’d say this guy is getting turned on. He's supposed to be yelling at us. Did this guy read the script?
Tara commands hubby to sit down and watch how a real man fucks her. This is where the script calls for hubby to be conflicted with being offended yet turned on.
I'm thinking, "This guy is an AMAZING actor. Goddamn he is brilliant!"
I call him a “fucking looser” and tell him to fix me a Martini while I fuck his wife, which he does. Tara, now bouncing me cowgirl, tells him to fold my pants. He does so not begrudgingly as planned. He is folding my clothes almost--lovingly? Something ain’t right.
At this point the hubby is commanded to take off his clothes and stroke his dick while he watches the sex. Every guy we hire to play the hubby has a small penis for the humiliation and side-by-side comparison factor. They are getting insulted, humiliated, and degraded. Husbands are always flaccid when the pants come off.
Hubby takes off his pants, and unleashes a veiny purple beast! Rock fucking hard!
Hubby strokes his cock, which dwarfs mine by a ratio of nearly 2:1, and is looking at me!
As if the Universe is fucking with me, Tara gets air time on an up stoke, and my cock pops out of her. She is still straddling me.
Tara says (to me), "Hurry! Stick it back in me!"
Hubby is in motion as the words leave Tara's mouth. I have never seen anyone move so fast. He races across the room, hands outstretched, purple cock and all, reaching for my dick! His speed and agility is almost beautiful.
Abort! Abort!
Tara has me in full mount pinning me to the sofa. The one fucking time seven years of jiu jitsu should help me in real life. It doesn't. I'm too stunned to move. I tell my arms to fling Tara off of me. I command my legs to work. I beg my mouth to speak so that I can tell Hubby to stop. Nothing happens.
I choke.
The next series of events I do not see. I feel them.
First, a course palm makes contact,
GAAAA--
as calloused strong fingers wrap around my shaft
--AAAAAA--
gripping tight.
--AAAAAAA--
Man hand
--AAAAAAA--
guides my cock
--AAAAA--
into Tara’s vagina.
--AAAAAHHHHHHH!
Tara, not stopping for a second, resumes bouncing on my penis.
I say, "STOP!"
I throw Tara off me and stand up on the sofa.
My eyes dart between Greg, the director; Ryan, the production manager; Tara; and the purple, mutant-cocked Hubby.
Silence.
The camera is rolling.
The sensation of Man Hand on my dick won’t fucking go away. My mind is caught in infinite loop so the emergency primal responses kick in. I feel my body moving toward Hubby in rage.
Camera still rolling.
I'm intent on smiting him where he stands. Nobody moves to stop me.
---
I feel the surge of blood with each beat of Hubby’s heart, surging past my prying fingers on his trachea. Each pulse comes later than the one preceding it. Fainter.
Fainter.
My foot anchored on Hubby’s chest for leverage, as I give the throat a triumphant rip.
I close my eyes, smiling in ecstasy as the sensation of warm blood spritzes my face, trickling hot down my cheek--
---
Greg says, "Tyler, are you crying?"
Ryan, making zero attempt to hide his amusement, "Ha-ha-ha-ha! Sorry, nigga. We shot him in a bi sex scene last week and we forgot to tell him this is a straight scene. BWA-ha-ha-ha!"
You fucking assholes! You didn’t forget…you thought it would be funny!
Camera's still capturing the moment. Tara is playing with her pussy. Disinterested in the turn of events.
The hubby says, "Hey, I’m so sorry man. It was an honest mistake. You're a hot piece of ass and they didn’t tell me you were straight. Ha ha, I was gonna suck the pussy juice off of you before I re-inserted you in her pussy."
I say, "Greg? Could you cut the camera please?"
He says, "Sure thing Ty."
"I’m going to take a walk outside. While I am gone I would really appreciate if you have a talk with Hubby, OK?"
Walking around the perimeter of the hill top estate, I contemplate the series of decisions in life that lead me to porn and eventually, this set. When I come back to set Hubby is sitting in a chair looking guilty. Ryan is still trying to suppress a chuckle or two. I finish the scene.
I say, "I trust this will all be edited out?"
Ryan smirks and says, "This never happened Ty."
I say, "Excuse me while I kill myself."
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Septembrist wrote:
When did sex become boring... meaning when did it become a job other then the whole passion filled I love you so much so I want to fuck every orifice in your body just to show how much I care for you?
When I was at the pace of three sex scenes a day, every day, for a year during the mid 2000's. It was a blur. I couldn't tell you when one vagina ended and another began. I'd wrap from one scene at 11am, weave in and out of traffic across Porn Valley to the next, hop in a shower and dive into the next. Pop shot done, I head off to the next scene, up-shifting into he freeway as I chug Viagra with a diet Red Bull chaser.
I'd be working with one girl. I blink, and I'm on my back with another girl on top of me. Never bother'd to ask, let alone remember their names because, what difference does it fucking make? I didn't see beautiful girls. Shit, I didn't even see human beings. It's like the cartoon when the wolf looks at the pig and the pig is morphed into a cooked ham with an apple in its mouth. Well, the girl changed to money piled onto my "fuck you" stack.
There were a few exceptions--girls I'd look at and think , Oh, my God, I'm fucking an angel."
I asked one girl during a break, "What the hell are you doing here?"
She takes a drag of her cigarette, looked at me and exhaled. Her words drifted on the blue smoke, "What are you doing here?"
To have both scene partners focused on the scene--into each other--is a luxury. I won's speak for everyone but my mind was anywhere but the room I was in.
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Z wrote:
Do you feel that you aren't as easily able to make lasting friendships because of your work, or do you find that it's easier to make friends within your profession?
In eight years in porn and nearly a thousand sex scenes, there are four people that I have gained as friends. None of them are other talent. They are directors. I do not socialize within the business. Ever.
The non-porn friends I have just see me as "Eric", the guy they train MMA and spar with or see at the gun range, or belong to the writer's group. Even with friends I don't say much, but they accept me for what I am. Just another guy. Because of my reclusive nature, there have been weeks at at time when I don't leave my house. I stay in bed with my Stoli and Nabokov. They accept this.
The picture in my avatar was the one and only time I went to a premier. The studio, Adam & Eve gave me a subtle ultimatum. It was for "The 8'th Day", the biggest budget film they ever released. The insinuation was I'd never again get another male lead if I didn't do the red carpet. I'm agoraphobic, and was so tanked up on Vodka for that event.
*I copy and pasted this. I was tanked when I wrote it. Probably better than what I could write otherwise.
"Dutch Courage"
So, I just got back from this red carpet thing for The 8th Day aka “the greatest porn feature ever made” according to the critics.
This is only the second time I have ever done this kind of thing, and I have to down a half dozen mojitos ahead of time to do it. The director and the Adam & Eve studio execs make me go because after all, I’m only the male lead in this God damned thing.
At the red carpet, I am standing to the side hoping not to be noticed so that I can slither inside. A six foot tall, ice blonde in a tight white dress that showed what she had for lunch--who had nothing to do with the film at all--walks down the carpet, and those fucking flashbulbs turn night into daylight. She walks right in. Other people that were less beautiful that actually are part of the film get hassled.
Finally, I am spotted slinking in shadows, and some unseen hand shoves me along the red carpet. Thank God I see Kylie Ireland and Amber Rayne, so I sprint over to them.
Flash bulbs do their damnedest to invoke epileptic seizure. They look fucking beautiful and I am wearing a t-shirt and Dickies pants looking like I slept in a field. I smile a phony ass smile for the pictures so long, my God damned face hurts. I am getting yelled at by faces behind the bright lights because I am not standing on the mark.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
I look down and sure enough, there is a blue “X” taped off on the carpet.
When another hot chick slinks onto the carpet, I sneak inside.
Inside,I see the director, Ren, the producers, Kayden Kross and Bree Olsen, and I hide among them at the cool kids section. Random people come up to the table trying to be seen next to the in crowd. Porn paparazzi batter us with more pics. They have to ask who I am, so they know what they took a picture of.
I can't help but think if I wasn’t a star in the movie I would not even be invited here and nobody would even talk to me.
It's fucking high school. The 13'th grade with more money.
At the VIP table, I chug 52,000,000 free vodkas to take the edge off. I watch the lunacy in front of me as the lesser males are trying their damnedest to get a hook up with prime ass for the night. Mini dramas all around me.
After a while I’m feeling vodka nerve-numb, and some more random hands grab me and pull me to a group of girls in the cast for photo-ops. More fake-ass smiles and my inhibitions are gone. I am fucking blinded by the flashes, drunk and disoriented.
On the way back to the VIP table an endless stream of girls whom I do not know (or recognize) come up to me and start chatting meaningless bullshit. I look at the mouths move--holes that I wonder if my penis has been inside--but no sound from them makes it to my ear before it's washed out in the walla. Apparently I fucked them in scenes *shrug*. I have nothing to say and I sure as hell am not clever in my current state, so I grab whatever random hot girls that comes up to me and make out with them. I get zero resistance. Fucking none. Even from those that don't know me don't push away in case they should know me. I’m grabbing ass--I don’t give a fuck. I am chain-macking down on the ho’s. It’s fucking awesome. I am King Dork tonight. This is for all my fellow nerds.
Drink sloshing in my hand, I'm half way back to the table I spot him. Another black guy.
Hell fucking no! This can not stand! I am the only Negro allowed at these functions!
I want to hit him. Kylie Ireland rescues me from doing something stupid like beating up the poor black kid, or worse, taking out my cock and sticking it in some random girl I make out with, and guides me by the hand to the table. I sit down, pissed and with a chubby. I am torn between beating his ass and fucking Kylie. This is very confusing.
A huge screen is showing the movie. The clip is of me chasing white girls around the desert. I have dred locks and I am wearing a duster and goggles to protect my eyes from a sand storm. Kayden is in white panties. That's it. I am slamming a vodka cranberry, I try to make sense of it all.
I get up to take a piss, but I am toasted and I holster the cock before I am done peeing. My pants now have a piss spot. I do not care. I am pissy pantsed.
Small talk, more drinks, it’s past midnight and I get bored of the bullshit and call for a ride home. On the way to the bar’s door I make out with more random girls who seem to have something important to say to me. I’m not big on remembering names or pretending to care about what stranger has to say, so I pull them into my tent I am pitching, intent on stabbing them to death with my woody through my pants. Lots of sycophants telling me how great I am. "Dude, it’s just fucking I wanna say." I don’t.
I think about logging into World of Warcraft and leveling my druid.
I just got home now. I keep my geek cred in full effect because instead of being balls deep in hot ass, I am typing this post on the Internet. Christ I’m a loser. The fucking swirlies have my head and there is a stupid wrist band thingy on me. I try to rip if off with my teeth cuz’ I gotta wake up and fuck some juicy ass Latina girl tomorrow early in the am, but the mother fucker stretches. How do you get these fucking things off anyway?
Oh yeah,to the other black dude at the party. I’m sorry bro, I’m not normally such a dick. I’m insecure and I had to get tanked to keep from bolting out the door, let alone even show up. I’m not very socially evolved. I’m sorry.
—---
Sorry in advance for this post. It probably is a long ass diatribe and it is probably not legible. Actually I lie. I am not sorry. Good night.
—---
afterthought.
I have lipstick all over my face, my pants are still pissy, I did not get anywhere with some X-Rated Hanna Montana looking chick, and my GF won’t fuck me cuz’ my breath is flammable.
I won't be doing this again.
----
The morning of the AVN (porn Oscars)Awards in Vegas, I was at the airport standing in line to board the plane. I said, "fuck this", got out of line and went home. The film won Best Picture that night. The studio was pissed. Nobody else even noticed I wasn't there, not even when my name was called when they read off the nominees for some acting (ha ha) award. I was in my underwear playing World of Warcraft. I got an epic sword for my undead, death knight. That was good.
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jane s. wrote:
Do you think the average person has the emotional or perhaps moral ability to do what you do? Assuming Average Person physically matches up, basically...do you think that anyone could be a porn star, or, like an astronaut, you have to have the right stuff? And what IS that stuff?
Speaking for male talent. Most men (99.999999%) fail to perform their first time out. Me included. You can be a stud at home but in front of a crew with a belligerent girl and money on the line--the pressure is unsettling. There are two types of guys:
Either you have the gift of inhuman focus, sealing off the world around you. A kind of man that can concentrate on the task at hand, get an erection, ass-fuck a surly scorpion in a volcano because there is nothing erotic about filming porn most times.
Or,
You are a sociopath. You just don't give a fuck.
For women, this will require a long ass post. There some girls that actually do it for the sex, and enjoy it. For the rest, I'll reduce the motives to: money, attention, or lateral substitution of another issue for sex.
Eh, that's all just my bullshit guessing for what it's worth. I've got a hard enough time understanding my own motives and what I do, let alone what drives other people.
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http://chuckpalahniuk.net/forum/1000026/ask-a-pornstar
some excerpts
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Z wrote:
This is probably a girly question. Do you LIKE doing porn?
I don't mean in some holier than thou way, I'm asking if it's like fun for you, or does it turn you on?
Gynecologists have to stare at vaginas all day, but it's not fun for them I wouldn't think! So, is it the same? Is it just a job, or are you like "Hell yes, PORN TIME"?
Excellent question. The business impacted me in several, profound ways that I never could have predicted.
I did enjoy every day at first. I still do sometimes when I get to have fun shooting guns in the desert, or if my costars are cool. There are a couple of girls I really enjoy as people, and the actual sex part can be pretty good. Most times, it's work. There is nothing worse than being cast with someone whom you don't like and having to have sex with them. Looks only go so far. Especially when you are as desensitized to sex as I am. My job is to keep suspension of disbelief, and to hide the man behind the curtain, so to speak.
*Note:The following has been copy and pasted from another thread, because I can't answer the question better than I did the first time.
This business, no matter who you are as on-camera talent will change you. Period. It changes you in ways you would not expect--it creeps up on you in degrees.
When people speak of the emotional well being of persons being exploited (by others or themselves) in porn, they never refer to the boys. That's a shame because as men, we are less equipped to deal with the shit that goes on inside of us than women.
Lookit, I get paid to objectify women--to relegate them to non-human instruments of carnal pleasure--so that others can pay to do so vicariously through me. You can't just turn that shit off . At best, it will desensitize you to sex of any meaning with your significant other, which is what you've no doubt experienced. Non-existent sex with a pornstar. Irony is a bitch.
When I was 12, and discovered the Sears catalog, the models in conservative underwear used to do it for me. De-sensitivity has moved the bar of stimulation to magazines like Playboy, to eventually later down the road, even the most depraved sexual acts don’t even phase me. A three-titted midget juggling flaming chainsaws would get a yawn from me.
Funny enough, now days, I prefer example, watching a cute girl dressed normally riding a bike down the street, and wondering what she looks like naked, and what kind of sexual animal she is behind closed doors. What nurturing does this pretty flower need to get it to bloom sexually in front of my eyes, as we are all unique sexual animals. In short, I like to leave a lot to the imagination. That’s what does it for me, not ass on display. That’s a turn off.
With respect to my girlfriends privacy, I’ll just say that the frequency of sex between us is no where near what she would like. I know this may be hard to comprehend, but a lot of times, I just don’t even want to be touched (at home, or on set when I’m about to work for that matter).
At all.
Personally, after seeing girls throwing their sexuality out there so blatantly for me on set, I tend to gravitate to more “meat and potatoes” sex in my personal life. I would never let my GF do some of the things to/with me that I go through every day on set. I try to keep a shred of normalcy any way I can. The fact that I don’t live in Porn Valley, never socialize with my peers, and I actually have to commute to get to work should tell you a lot. She is my oasis, and my escape from the Fellini-esque sexual world I occupy.
We have been together before I entered into the business. Officially, we are monogamous but I'm not perfect. It's simple. I do my best which 98.9% of the time I'm able to be good but the 1.1% of the time I fail we don't talk about it. Ever. It works.
Sometimes girls will throw themselves at me on sets when we are not even cast to work together. Other times, we've...extended the scene long after the camera has cut and the crew has left or we end up someplace else to continue.
Then there are times when I'm taking a break from a scene and some new googley-eyed girl(s) decides she wants to "fluff" and then I end up fucking more girls than was scheduled. Contract girls from studios that "officially" won't do an interracial sex scene but can't get my cock inside their mouths fast enough in some hotel.
Can't forget the women at conventions when I sign autographs for Playgirl that only a man possessing the highest degree of character could walk away from.
Fucking Christ, you should see some of these civilian women. I'm human.
Vegas during the AVN awards? Forget it. Fuck-a-thons, limos, and God knows where you wake up. I don't put myself in that situation and have not gone in years. They mail my awards to me. This shit changes you. Dealing with it, for me, has been a series of bulwarks and dammage controll.
Scores upon scores of couples that want to pay me and fly me all over the world to fuck the wife/girlfriend while the bf or hubby watches but I've always passed on those. Too weird.
Frankly, I'm not terribly comfortable revealing a lot of this now--I'm fiercely private (funny choice of profession, right?) and the guilt fucks with me.
I wrote a 3,000 word stream-of-consciousness piece in one sitting about one such 18 year old civilian girl with an ancillary (off camera) job in the business everybody, and I mean everybody wanted to fuck. I could live ten lifetimes--as prolific as I am--and never have anything as good. One day on set during down time she snuggled up to me and told me she had never been with a black guy before...
I hinted at this girl in one of my stories; that was the catalysts for some serious self-examination. I've been good since. This was during a dark period of my life (I won't elaborate farther) and the timing could not have been worse.
Part, if not all of the appeal I seem to have over these girls is I am the one person that treats them like a human being--and acknowledges that they like everyone else dreams and fears. There are many good people in porn but plenty others, including(especially) those in positions of power--agents, studio execs, directors--discount talent, male and female, as vapid refuse. Even if that's true, nobody want's to be told that they are less-than. Maslow one-oh-fucking-one.
I got this treatment at first until I put motherfuckers in their places which is why there is a long list of studios and directors on my no-list and 1/2 the industry can't stand me and will never hire me. That, and I write about the losers on my blog. I at least have some tools to deal with the unique issues that come with the job.
I can't wait til my writing takes off and it's vaja-con-Dios, bitches to porn.
I'm not the same man I was when I entered the adult industry eight years ago. God bless my girlfriend for tolerating me. It's not easy.
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Freemena wrote:
Tyler Knight wrote:
nathaniel parker wrote:
I find your claim to have started porn in 2002 highly suspect. I remember seeing porn well before the turn of the century.
I still haven't gotten used to the term "Turn of the century" to mean 21st, not the 20th.
My first day was October 7, 2002. It was the third worst day of my life. Stroking a non responsive penis for an hour in front of maybe 40 strangers is something you don't forget easily.
You didn't have a fluffer? What cheapskates!
Fluffers went away back in the '90s. Ive seen one set with fluffers in the past eight years. Nowadays, you either take a Viagra, or shoot your penis up with an embalming fluid called Caverject.
This is designed for quad, and paraplegics so they can have sexual relations. You inject the needle directly into the side of your penis. It has since fallen into the hands of 20 and 30 something porn stars.
The downsides to Caving are numerous, including when it does not drain or absorb into the body after sex. You have to get your penis lanced with a scalpel to drain excess fluid.
Also, there is an open, bleeding wound at the injection site. Anal sex is commonplace. The obvious risks of STD and HIV transmission are ignored by and large. As long as the sex looks good on camera.
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aushatch0206 wrote:
Can you get rich doing porn? Obviously, you can make a living. But a comfortable living?
God no. Prior to the recession, you could make a great living as an a-list talent. Thanks to the economy, piracy, and torrent if you make a living consider yourself lucky.
Pre '08, a good male talent could earn 10-20k a month. A female talent, upwards of 30k.
The industry is going through a period of attrition and will stabilize eventually but those days are gone, never to return.
Porn-as-career for me is a situation of diminishing returns, financially. I don't see myself doing it this time next year.
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ScubaSteve1729 wrote:
What exactly does a vagina feel like?
Not for me! A friend wants to know.
You are six years old. It's Christmas morning. You run down the stairs and see that big box with the red bow. Your heart races and your little fingers can't tear into the wrapper fast enough. The gift is exactly what you wanted all year long. Better than you even imagined--you can't believe it's actually yours.
Time goes on. Each time you play with the toy, it's never quite the same as the first day, until the moment comes that you want something new.
You're hooked for life. You need to replicate that pulse quickening feel of anticipation. The bliss you felt the first time. Feel the velvet bow untie in your fingers. Rip the wrapper off...
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LeHaHi wrote:
Describe your funniest or most embarrassing story from the job. Like, something gleeful, or someone did something, and everyone, cast and crew, stopped and laughed out loud.
That would have to be the cuckold scene last year. These are scenes where the husband watches as you bang the wife. Often times insults are hurled at the hubby. The humiliation factor is important. The studio this is for shoots me regularly and I get a gig a month from them in their more tame movies. They focus on niche markets including scenes where the male talent is dressed in diapers and a baby bonnet with a huge pacifier in his mouth. The “Mom” then shoves a huge milk bottle up his ass. I always know what the scenario is before I ever step on set but there is always an element of “Surprise motherfucker!” to this studio’s sets.
I am a real estate agent showing million dollar homes to a young couple. The girl is a barely legal blonde Tara Lynn Fox, and the guy playing the hubby is some guy the studio probably got off Craigslist of something. Something is off about him but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I notice he is almost as pretty as the girl. Eh, whatever.
So I am showing the living room to the couple and the hubby has to go out to take a phone call. This is Tara’s cue to put the moves on me and close a little side deal. Cheesy dialogue which consists of me fighting off her advances for about 20 seconds, and she is chugging cock. Hubby comes back into the house and is supposed to be pissed.
Except if I did not know any better, I’d say this guy is getting turned on. He's supposed to be yelling at us. Did this guy read the script?
Tara commands hubby to sit down and watch how a real man fucks her. This is where the script calls for hubby to be conflicted with being offended yet turned on.
I'm thinking, "This guy is an AMAZING actor. Goddamn he is brilliant!"
I call him a “fucking looser” and tell him to fix me a Martini while I fuck his wife, which he does. Tara, now bouncing me cowgirl, tells him to fold my pants. He does so not begrudgingly as planned. He is folding my clothes almost--lovingly? Something ain’t right.
At this point the hubby is commanded to take off his clothes and stroke his dick while he watches the sex. Every guy we hire to play the hubby has a small penis for the humiliation and side-by-side comparison factor. They are getting insulted, humiliated, and degraded. Husbands are always flaccid when the pants come off.
Hubby takes off his pants, and unleashes a veiny purple beast! Rock fucking hard!
Hubby strokes his cock, which dwarfs mine by a ratio of nearly 2:1, and is looking at me!
As if the Universe is fucking with me, Tara gets air time on an up stoke, and my cock pops out of her. She is still straddling me.
Tara says (to me), "Hurry! Stick it back in me!"
Hubby is in motion as the words leave Tara's mouth. I have never seen anyone move so fast. He races across the room, hands outstretched, purple cock and all, reaching for my dick! His speed and agility is almost beautiful.
Abort! Abort!
Tara has me in full mount pinning me to the sofa. The one fucking time seven years of jiu jitsu should help me in real life. It doesn't. I'm too stunned to move. I tell my arms to fling Tara off of me. I command my legs to work. I beg my mouth to speak so that I can tell Hubby to stop. Nothing happens.
I choke.
The next series of events I do not see. I feel them.
First, a course palm makes contact,
GAAAA--
as calloused strong fingers wrap around my shaft
--AAAAAA--
gripping tight.
--AAAAAAA--
Man hand
--AAAAAAA--
guides my cock
--AAAAA--
into Tara’s vagina.
--AAAAAHHHHHHH!
Tara, not stopping for a second, resumes bouncing on my penis.
I say, "STOP!"
I throw Tara off me and stand up on the sofa.
My eyes dart between Greg, the director; Ryan, the production manager; Tara; and the purple, mutant-cocked Hubby.
Silence.
The camera is rolling.
The sensation of Man Hand on my dick won’t fucking go away. My mind is caught in infinite loop so the emergency primal responses kick in. I feel my body moving toward Hubby in rage.
Camera still rolling.
I'm intent on smiting him where he stands. Nobody moves to stop me.
---
I feel the surge of blood with each beat of Hubby’s heart, surging past my prying fingers on his trachea. Each pulse comes later than the one preceding it. Fainter.
Fainter.
My foot anchored on Hubby’s chest for leverage, as I give the throat a triumphant rip.
I close my eyes, smiling in ecstasy as the sensation of warm blood spritzes my face, trickling hot down my cheek--
---
Greg says, "Tyler, are you crying?"
Ryan, making zero attempt to hide his amusement, "Ha-ha-ha-ha! Sorry, nigga. We shot him in a bi sex scene last week and we forgot to tell him this is a straight scene. BWA-ha-ha-ha!"
You fucking assholes! You didn’t forget…you thought it would be funny!
Camera's still capturing the moment. Tara is playing with her pussy. Disinterested in the turn of events.
The hubby says, "Hey, I’m so sorry man. It was an honest mistake. You're a hot piece of ass and they didn’t tell me you were straight. Ha ha, I was gonna suck the pussy juice off of you before I re-inserted you in her pussy."
I say, "Greg? Could you cut the camera please?"
He says, "Sure thing Ty."
"I’m going to take a walk outside. While I am gone I would really appreciate if you have a talk with Hubby, OK?"
Walking around the perimeter of the hill top estate, I contemplate the series of decisions in life that lead me to porn and eventually, this set. When I come back to set Hubby is sitting in a chair looking guilty. Ryan is still trying to suppress a chuckle or two. I finish the scene.
I say, "I trust this will all be edited out?"
Ryan smirks and says, "This never happened Ty."
I say, "Excuse me while I kill myself."
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Septembrist wrote:
When did sex become boring... meaning when did it become a job other then the whole passion filled I love you so much so I want to fuck every orifice in your body just to show how much I care for you?
When I was at the pace of three sex scenes a day, every day, for a year during the mid 2000's. It was a blur. I couldn't tell you when one vagina ended and another began. I'd wrap from one scene at 11am, weave in and out of traffic across Porn Valley to the next, hop in a shower and dive into the next. Pop shot done, I head off to the next scene, up-shifting into he freeway as I chug Viagra with a diet Red Bull chaser.
I'd be working with one girl. I blink, and I'm on my back with another girl on top of me. Never bother'd to ask, let alone remember their names because, what difference does it fucking make? I didn't see beautiful girls. Shit, I didn't even see human beings. It's like the cartoon when the wolf looks at the pig and the pig is morphed into a cooked ham with an apple in its mouth. Well, the girl changed to money piled onto my "fuck you" stack.
There were a few exceptions--girls I'd look at and think , Oh, my God, I'm fucking an angel."
I asked one girl during a break, "What the hell are you doing here?"
She takes a drag of her cigarette, looked at me and exhaled. Her words drifted on the blue smoke, "What are you doing here?"
To have both scene partners focused on the scene--into each other--is a luxury. I won's speak for everyone but my mind was anywhere but the room I was in.
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Z wrote:
Do you feel that you aren't as easily able to make lasting friendships because of your work, or do you find that it's easier to make friends within your profession?
In eight years in porn and nearly a thousand sex scenes, there are four people that I have gained as friends. None of them are other talent. They are directors. I do not socialize within the business. Ever.
The non-porn friends I have just see me as "Eric", the guy they train MMA and spar with or see at the gun range, or belong to the writer's group. Even with friends I don't say much, but they accept me for what I am. Just another guy. Because of my reclusive nature, there have been weeks at at time when I don't leave my house. I stay in bed with my Stoli and Nabokov. They accept this.
The picture in my avatar was the one and only time I went to a premier. The studio, Adam & Eve gave me a subtle ultimatum. It was for "The 8'th Day", the biggest budget film they ever released. The insinuation was I'd never again get another male lead if I didn't do the red carpet. I'm agoraphobic, and was so tanked up on Vodka for that event.
*I copy and pasted this. I was tanked when I wrote it. Probably better than what I could write otherwise.
"Dutch Courage"
So, I just got back from this red carpet thing for The 8th Day aka “the greatest porn feature ever made” according to the critics.
This is only the second time I have ever done this kind of thing, and I have to down a half dozen mojitos ahead of time to do it. The director and the Adam & Eve studio execs make me go because after all, I’m only the male lead in this God damned thing.
At the red carpet, I am standing to the side hoping not to be noticed so that I can slither inside. A six foot tall, ice blonde in a tight white dress that showed what she had for lunch--who had nothing to do with the film at all--walks down the carpet, and those fucking flashbulbs turn night into daylight. She walks right in. Other people that were less beautiful that actually are part of the film get hassled.
Finally, I am spotted slinking in shadows, and some unseen hand shoves me along the red carpet. Thank God I see Kylie Ireland and Amber Rayne, so I sprint over to them.
Flash bulbs do their damnedest to invoke epileptic seizure. They look fucking beautiful and I am wearing a t-shirt and Dickies pants looking like I slept in a field. I smile a phony ass smile for the pictures so long, my God damned face hurts. I am getting yelled at by faces behind the bright lights because I am not standing on the mark.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
I look down and sure enough, there is a blue “X” taped off on the carpet.
When another hot chick slinks onto the carpet, I sneak inside.
Inside,I see the director, Ren, the producers, Kayden Kross and Bree Olsen, and I hide among them at the cool kids section. Random people come up to the table trying to be seen next to the in crowd. Porn paparazzi batter us with more pics. They have to ask who I am, so they know what they took a picture of.
I can't help but think if I wasn’t a star in the movie I would not even be invited here and nobody would even talk to me.
It's fucking high school. The 13'th grade with more money.
At the VIP table, I chug 52,000,000 free vodkas to take the edge off. I watch the lunacy in front of me as the lesser males are trying their damnedest to get a hook up with prime ass for the night. Mini dramas all around me.
After a while I’m feeling vodka nerve-numb, and some more random hands grab me and pull me to a group of girls in the cast for photo-ops. More fake-ass smiles and my inhibitions are gone. I am fucking blinded by the flashes, drunk and disoriented.
On the way back to the VIP table an endless stream of girls whom I do not know (or recognize) come up to me and start chatting meaningless bullshit. I look at the mouths move--holes that I wonder if my penis has been inside--but no sound from them makes it to my ear before it's washed out in the walla. Apparently I fucked them in scenes *shrug*. I have nothing to say and I sure as hell am not clever in my current state, so I grab whatever random hot girls that comes up to me and make out with them. I get zero resistance. Fucking none. Even from those that don't know me don't push away in case they should know me. I’m grabbing ass--I don’t give a fuck. I am chain-macking down on the ho’s. It’s fucking awesome. I am King Dork tonight. This is for all my fellow nerds.
Drink sloshing in my hand, I'm half way back to the table I spot him. Another black guy.
Hell fucking no! This can not stand! I am the only Negro allowed at these functions!
I want to hit him. Kylie Ireland rescues me from doing something stupid like beating up the poor black kid, or worse, taking out my cock and sticking it in some random girl I make out with, and guides me by the hand to the table. I sit down, pissed and with a chubby. I am torn between beating his ass and fucking Kylie. This is very confusing.
A huge screen is showing the movie. The clip is of me chasing white girls around the desert. I have dred locks and I am wearing a duster and goggles to protect my eyes from a sand storm. Kayden is in white panties. That's it. I am slamming a vodka cranberry, I try to make sense of it all.
I get up to take a piss, but I am toasted and I holster the cock before I am done peeing. My pants now have a piss spot. I do not care. I am pissy pantsed.
Small talk, more drinks, it’s past midnight and I get bored of the bullshit and call for a ride home. On the way to the bar’s door I make out with more random girls who seem to have something important to say to me. I’m not big on remembering names or pretending to care about what stranger has to say, so I pull them into my tent I am pitching, intent on stabbing them to death with my woody through my pants. Lots of sycophants telling me how great I am. "Dude, it’s just fucking I wanna say." I don’t.
I think about logging into World of Warcraft and leveling my druid.
I just got home now. I keep my geek cred in full effect because instead of being balls deep in hot ass, I am typing this post on the Internet. Christ I’m a loser. The fucking swirlies have my head and there is a stupid wrist band thingy on me. I try to rip if off with my teeth cuz’ I gotta wake up and fuck some juicy ass Latina girl tomorrow early in the am, but the mother fucker stretches. How do you get these fucking things off anyway?
Oh yeah,to the other black dude at the party. I’m sorry bro, I’m not normally such a dick. I’m insecure and I had to get tanked to keep from bolting out the door, let alone even show up. I’m not very socially evolved. I’m sorry.
—---
Sorry in advance for this post. It probably is a long ass diatribe and it is probably not legible. Actually I lie. I am not sorry. Good night.
—---
afterthought.
I have lipstick all over my face, my pants are still pissy, I did not get anywhere with some X-Rated Hanna Montana looking chick, and my GF won’t fuck me cuz’ my breath is flammable.
I won't be doing this again.
----
The morning of the AVN (porn Oscars)Awards in Vegas, I was at the airport standing in line to board the plane. I said, "fuck this", got out of line and went home. The film won Best Picture that night. The studio was pissed. Nobody else even noticed I wasn't there, not even when my name was called when they read off the nominees for some acting (ha ha) award. I was in my underwear playing World of Warcraft. I got an epic sword for my undead, death knight. That was good.
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jane s. wrote:
Do you think the average person has the emotional or perhaps moral ability to do what you do? Assuming Average Person physically matches up, basically...do you think that anyone could be a porn star, or, like an astronaut, you have to have the right stuff? And what IS that stuff?
Speaking for male talent. Most men (99.999999%) fail to perform their first time out. Me included. You can be a stud at home but in front of a crew with a belligerent girl and money on the line--the pressure is unsettling. There are two types of guys:
Either you have the gift of inhuman focus, sealing off the world around you. A kind of man that can concentrate on the task at hand, get an erection, ass-fuck a surly scorpion in a volcano because there is nothing erotic about filming porn most times.
Or,
You are a sociopath. You just don't give a fuck.
For women, this will require a long ass post. There some girls that actually do it for the sex, and enjoy it. For the rest, I'll reduce the motives to: money, attention, or lateral substitution of another issue for sex.
Eh, that's all just my bullshit guessing for what it's worth. I've got a hard enough time understanding my own motives and what I do, let alone what drives other people.
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The phrases this nigga was using >>>>>>>
