from www.adultcybermart.com – There was a time when all of us were a lot younger. [You can quote me on that.]

I was getting more sex than any man had a right to, and during that stretch of incredible fortune there was the night Nina Hartley came to my bed chambers.

Perhaps I should explain.

While all the AVN award shows are a cumulative blur at this point- Savannah receiving her Best New Starlet award and telling everyone in the business to kiss her ass; Buck Adams and Jerry Butler on the stage completely annihilated; the Mitchell Brothers-Jim and Artie- colliding into one another like spinning tops. There was also the first real controversy generated in AVN’s history by the fact that the Best New starlet award was a tie vote between Victoria Paris and Tori Wells. Nobody liked that one at all.

Before someone came up with the bright notion that professional comics were funnier than me, I used to co-host the awards. A fact I wasn’t too crazy about, either. Being up on a stage for 3 ½ hours before the toughest crowd in the world is nobody’s idea of a great Saturday night.

Because the hotel rooms were smart-looking and nice, I’m thinking L’affaire Hartley had to have occurred during AVN’s first year at Ballys. So we’re talking about an incident that happened at least 20 years ago.

By contrast, the rooms at the old Tropicana where the awards used to hold sway, were a Holiday Inn petri dish of bacterial hazards. As I said, the rooms at Bally’s were a step up, but the one drawback was the fact that I had to share mine with John Paone on this occasion. Paone was the former editor of AVN who was freelancing for us during that winter show in Vegas.

There was some major on-stage flirting going on that night between Nina Hartley and yours truly. Whatever was in the air, there was preliminary verbal foreplay and mutually provocative ass pinching on the convention floor preceding it. It got to the point, at one juncture during the awards show, where Hartley stood before a microphone and declared publicly that she was going to do me later. But if you’ve dealt with porn stars, you know such declarations of intent, like promises to advertise, are not to be taken seriously.

Except Hartley was pretty doggone serious, I guess, judging by the fact that she showed up at my room around 2 in the morning to make good on her vow. As if there were no other considerations to be made, she promptly got naked as John Paone, four feet from us, snored in the adjoining bed. Nothing was going to wake him up including an attempted tryst with one of the world’s most famous porn stars.

[I told Paone the next morning what had happened. He didn’t believe a word of the story.]

For her part, Hartley didn’t seem to mind that there was a potential audience in the room.

True story. I saw, stroked, touched and massaged the naked ass of Nina Hartley. If that butt were a satellite dish, Hartley would have been the first in her neighborhood with the NFL premium package.

I could tell you this was the greatest sexual experience any one man ever had, but I would be lying. Instead, I suffered performance anxiety. Dynamite going off in my ass wouldn’t have altered the fact as I, to this day, blame it all on Paone’s disruptive slumber.

I’ll be the first to admit I’d be the worst third party in a threeway much less perform while havingsomeone watching me. So there’s little else of the Hartley story to relate other than the usual coulda, shoulda, wouldas that inevitably enter the conversation when a story like this is revisited. Yet, dare I say, no condom would have been involved in this exhibition even had it gone the full ten rounds.

Having been among the fortunate few who never got so much as an ass pimple from all the sexual activity he engaged in, condoms have never been a consideration on my Rite Aid shopping list. Which, in a round about way, means I endorse the porn industry’s argument against the use of them, since condoms are counterintuitive to the free speech process, hence the argument.

I also realize that the AIDS Healthcare Foundation is ready to drag the whole issue before the US Supreme Court, if needs be, because you just know they’re going to lose eventually on the state level after their latest defeat in the Appellate Court. But it’s their money.

As we saw in a story today reported on ABC News, Christian Mann, general manager of Evil Angel reminds one and all that “if the market would accept condom-positive movies, that’s what we would all be making.”

And though we’ve heard this other advisory a million times uttered out of a million mouths, Mann reminds an ABC reporter, yet again, that if condom regulation goes into affect, the adult industry would be driven underground. I’ve never quite understood where this underground is, because Google spy satellites can pretty much pinpoint where you take a shit; and trust me, if California mandates condoms, other states will mandate condoms.

Where my Nina Hartley story becomes somewhat relevant or irrelevant is the fact that she was also interviewed for the ABC story. In fact, anytime I see Hartley’s name in print, I’m painfully reminded of my failure to perform at Bally’s.

Except, today Nina haunts me in other ways. No one will argue with her on the fact that condoms are uncomfortable, which she states to ABC.

“It’s not the job of adult entertainers to be educating people about safe sex practices,” Hartley further preaches.

Yup, no one was using a chalk, blackboard, and pie charts in that room at Bally’s, as I recall. Hartley in the ABC piece makes a point that the adult industry offers “pure entertainment” and wraps it up by saying, “We don’t ask other entertainers in our culture to slip in the vegetables of education.” [Actual quote.]

Huh? Where in the deuce did that inexplicable idea originate from? In the context of Jimmy Hats this makes no sense whatsoever. Did some demented green grocer offer counsel or did a wino temporarily inhabit the body of Nina and do the talking for her? Silly idea. Of course not.

Then, again, there was a time when we were all a lot younger, and though youth can be frequently stupid, sometimes we made a lot more sense. Even when we were trying to take our pants off at 2 in the morning for the pure entertainment of it.