Porn Valley- I left my ratty New York apartment recently for an extraordinary trip to Los Angeles. I went as the winner of a contest at BeTheMask.com. The prize? I got to fuck, not one, but two porn chicks — Brittney Skye and Felix Vicious.
My pathetic attempt at studliness is a story for another day. That trip I also got to hang with a stud of the first magnitude. One of the biggest dudes in porn history. The Hedgehog himself, Ron Jeremy. I was invited to cover a shoot for Ron’s spoof of sex-crazed seaman “Barnacle Bill the Sailor.” The series will debut online http://www.barnaclebillthesailor.com , with plans for later distribution on DVD and via video-on-demand in hotel rooms.
Today’s scenes called for Ron to ravish “fair young maidens” in their homes. The set was in the San Fernando Valley, the capital of the porn world. It was my first time in Porn Valley.
Ron arrived after a taping of his reality series on the WB network, “The Surreal Life.” (I couldn’t help but think how surreal my life was at this moment, standing near this legend.) When Ron walked in, everyone froze. Even people who knew him for years were affected by his star quality. Ron’s a former teacher from Queens who’s as down-to-earth as they come, but when he steps into a room, it’s like a power surge. Porn is filled with younger, better-looking guys, but they don’t have a sperm-cell’s worth of Ron’s charisma. The man’s inspiring. Sure, he’s been blessed with gargantuan equipment and an ability to hold back his load and fuck for days like the Energizer Bunny. But it still takes great tenacity to stay on top of the industry for so long. What Howard Stern is to radio, Ron is to porn.
Ron’s first scene was with Vicki Vogue, one of the nicest girls in the business. I’d been corresponding with Vicki since seeing a profile on her a few weeks earlier in Adult Video News. Vicki’s a real bisexual, not one of those “gay for pay” chicks who drain the life out of so many girl/girl videos. Nothing turns me on more than a hot woman — and Vicki, with soft blonde hair, honeydew tits, and long dancer’s legs, is scorching hot — who’s into other women. She’s also heavily into S&M. Not exactly my cup of tea, though if anyone could expand my horizons, it’s Vicki. A babe like Vicki, with her innocent, little-girl face going cum-crazy in leather bondage gear. Who couldn’t get off on that?
Perhaps I’d gotten a bit carried away with my fantasies about Vicki when I emailed her about my upcoming trip: “During my free time in the evenings, I’m hoping that a gorgeous starlet will show me L.A.’s ‘wilder side’ (i.e., parties, nightclubs, etc.).”
She’d written me back a sweet note: “Hi, thank you for considering me to be your tour guide. Unfortunately I am on my way out of the biz.” No!!! The thought of Vicki dropping off the porn radar screen was depressing. But she plans to start a group for victims of hate crimes. I think that’s awesome. And let’s face it. The world needs crusaders for good causes a lot more than it needs another porn star. Fortunately, Vicki won’t exactly be abandoning her fans. She’ll still be dancing at strip clubs around the country.
Ironically, my career path’s almost the reverse of hers. I ran an organization that lobbied for tougher laws against violent criminals. Now here I am exploring the netherworld of porn.
When I got to meet Vicki on the Barnacle Bill set, I was like a tongue-tied kid with a crush. She asked if anyone could help carry her bag from her car. My hand shot up and I practically jumped up and down and blurted out, “Pick me. Pick me.” Just walking with her to the car gave me wood. Most people don’t associate “classy” with porn stars. A few years ago I would have had trouble too. But Vicki is definitely one of those girls in the business who blow you away with how unstereotypical they are. If you haven’t barfed already at my gushing over Vicki, get ready to run to the toilet. I dream about loving girls like her. Not just making love. But caressing her on some island, waking up with her in my arms. I can’t help it. Certain girls inspire this tender shit in me. Others, I just want to fuck raw until they scream for mercy.
Filming started with Ron outside wearing his Barnacle Bill costume — a black pea coat and white sailor cap. Opening lines came straight from the limerick.
“Who’s that knocking on my door?” Vicki asked.
“Open the door you fucking whore,” Ron demanded. Vicki walked over in a silky pink outfit and black stilettos, her hair in pigtails.
“Fair young maiden, sit!” Ron said. “Look at that beautiful face. Someone should be kissing it. Do you have a thing for men in uniform?” “Oh, I do,” Vicki said. “Goodie,” Ron chuckled.
“Barnacle Bill loves tits,” he said. “Do you love mine?” Vicki asked. Ron yanked her dress off and sniffed it. “Umm. Smells like a fair young maiden.” Ron tossed the dress aside. It landed on the head of an ecstatic Ernie Flores, porn photographer par excellence.
Ron feasted on Vicki’s breasts while his huge hairy hand applied clit-friction through her thong.
Vicki opened his coat and pulled out one of the most celebrated shlongs in history. She expertly camped things up with a “Wow, what a cock you have” look — eyes wide, hands thrown back in disbelief.
She munched on that monstrosity, falling back on the bed with Ron for some Sixty-Nine. I was watching from the other bed, taking notes. Even though she was fighting a cold, Vicki still sizzled. Every time she moaned, it was if my hand had a will of its own. It took all my strength to rip my fingers from my fly. (“Damnit, Joe! You’re a working journalist,” I’d remind myself.)
Ron would tongue-kiss Vicki between takes while he wanked himself to keep at full-throttle. It showed a tender side of the Hedgehog, one not often seen on film.
But now it was back to the hard stuff, with Ron pounding away at Vicki’s pussy as if he was drilling down to China. Vicki was oohing and aahing like a motherfucker. Nothing against Ron, but I just wanted to elbow him aside and dive-bomb into Vicki. Ain’t gonna happen, Boy. Though everyone might have been stunned into a state of paralysis by the sheer audacity of my act, maybe I’d get five heavenly seconds before they regained their wits, yanked me off Vicki (Talk about coitus interruptus!) and drop-kicked my scrawny ass into the Pacific.
After the scene, Ron swigged a soda and threw me the bottle to keep it cold on the AC. I was glad to be of service to the Hedgehog, even in such a trivial way. But I was a little freaked, too, thinking about all the traces of bodily fluids that must have passed from Ron’s fingers to that bottle. I immediately doused my hands in a jar of anti-bacterial glop. (While we’re on the topic of bodily fluids, I wonder if hotels routinely wash the bedspreads along with the sheets. Hang around enough porn sets, and you realize it’s the spreads that are getting drenched in jism and pussy juice, not the sheets.)
Lani Lei, a cute little Hawaiian chick, was supposed to be Barnacle Bill’s next wench. I’d had breakfast with her and the crew at Denny’s that morning. Lani couldn’t make it back for the afternoon taping. But I did get to watch her earlier in a blistering lesbo session with Israeli stunner Nicole Moore, wife of the show’s co-producer, Steve Banan, another legendary figure in porn’s evolution.
Nicole is insatiable, as she clearly demonstrated in her scene with Ron. When he took out Barnacle Bill “Junior” from under his pea coat, Nicole pounced on it. Next Ron stuck two of his massive fingers in her luv hole and tongued her clit like a lizard. She was moaning so uncontrollably, the veins in her neck were popping.
Steve’s got to be one of the luckiest men on earth. To say that he and Nicole have an open relationship is an understatement. While Nicole was bouncing up and down on Ron’s jackhammer, Steve joked, “Don’t hurt her, Ronnie. I’ve got to fuck her tonight… And tomorrow.” Everyone cracked up.
As the cumshot approached, Ron told Nicole to start his trademark “cum countdown” — modified, of course, to fit the scenario (“Ten, Barnacle Bill. Nine, Barnacle Bill….”). At zero he exploded all over her tummy.
The next night I’d be back on the other side of the continent in my shithole apartment once again. But at least when I got home I had plenty of detailed images of hot sex in my head. So I broke out the Vaseline and made believe I was the Hedgehog deflowering “fair young maidens” Nicole Moore (Sorry, Steve!) and Vicki Vogue. As I shot my load, I said, “Here’s to you, Ron Jeremy. Thanks for the wankable memories.”