Porn Valley- Nicki Hunter got off a plane early Sunday morning. She hadn’t slept in 36 hours. Hunter had been in Sacramento dancing. Meeting her at the airport was her husband Josh. Hunter figures she’s going to collapse in a physical heap but is informed that newcomer Hailey Scott had flaked Tom Zupko’s shoot for Hustler and could Nicki be so kind as to fill in that afternoon. Which probably makes sense because Hunter has business interests in Xotic Studios where the movie is being shot.

Hunter’s right leg bears bruises and Hunter says it’s from the dancing.

Hunter’s under the impression that maybe this is going to be a d.p. scene and that’s pretty cool by her. Nicki loves d.p.’s, tells me she loves them more than anals and that they feel better than anals. Except this is not going to wind up being a d.p, scene.

Tony T is going to be working along side Josh, but T’s telling me he wouldn’t even think of doing an anal in his personal life, that vag sex is a bigger turn on. By early afternoon, Hunter’s dolled up and ready to go. She’s wearing her blond hair piled up like a Fifties pinup chick along with this blue outfit and boots to match, all of which blast mesmerizing hues on the monitor. Zupko’s watching Hunter getting her ass pre-oiled. Zupko’s now into oil like the late Bruce Seven used to be into oil. And Zupko’s wondering aloud if Hunter might entertain the thought of his cock in her ass. He’s kidding, but I’m thinking he shouldn’t press his luck considering that Hunter might prefer three days of sleep, instead of a cock and two quarts of oil in her butt. Zupko’s explaining the scene, and the question is raised as to whether Zupko shoots anything normal.

Zupko has Josh carve out three glory holes in the backdrop of the set, and a cast extra is painted up to look like a Mime Girl- her face and tits stark white. Like some living masque with a sadistic sense of humor, Mime Girl’s job is to rag on Hunter throughout the scene, calling her names with taunts that have a cast of anal disparagement to them.

“This is looking like an old Gregory Dark movie,” says Zupko thinking out loud. The dimly lit shadows of a twirling fan are thrown against the wall for a noir effect, and Hunter essays a bump and grind such as you might see in the film Sin City. The complimentary noirish smoke is supplied courtesy of Pall Mall. Zupko has members of the crew lighting up and allowing the nicotine to waft into Hunter’s face.

Thuka-boom-thuka-boom-thuka-boom, begins the honky-tonk styled music which consumes the studio.

Kelly Nichols, who’s doing makeup, spots something and informs all the “rocket scientists” that Hunter’s blue boots still have a shoe tag on them. In an attempt to get this matter resolved with five conversations going at once in seven directions, I liken the whole proceedings to a Robert Altman movie. “Yes!” says Nichols, launching the clenched fist and the bowler’s elbow in back swing agreement.

Thuka-boom-thuka-boom-thuka-boom. Hunter starts in again, and, of course, Zupko in his usual manner is ready to put an engagement ring on what he sees on the monitor. Thuka-boom-thuka-boom-thuka-boom. Tony T, like he did the other day, is busting Zupko’s balls over all this thuka-boom shit like why can’t Zupko just shoot a sex scene. Thuka-boom-thuka-boom.

“I’m not being a dick, Zupko,” explains T. “But let’s get the scene done.” Zupko, stating how T is about about the only porn performer he grants such insubordination to, is telling T he’s pushing it close to the line, brother. But T is got this raging hard-on that won’t quit. A thuka-boom-thuka-boom-thuka-boom raging hard on.

T was telling me that he worked for the first time with a bag- it was the day before on a Vivid set. No problems, he said, because the girl he worked with was a sultry knockout.

Thuka-boom-thuka-boom. Hunter’s scissory leg effects are broadcast on the wall in silhouette. Thuka-boom-thuka-boom-thuka-boom. Zupko finally unleashes the hounds of hell. T is all over Hunter like a beggar on a baloney sandwich. He’s braced up against Hunter as though he’s changing the tire of an 18-wheeler, then Tflips his cock in her mouth like he were popping the neck on Miller Genuine Light beer bottles. Hunter emits accompanying sounds similar to bobbing for ping pong balls underwater. This is all going spectacularly, but Tony has to call time out. The mime’s taunts are apparently distracting him.

“The ordering shit is not working for me,” T tells Zupko. Zupko accommodates T’s throbbing balls and shoots the mime in cutaways. With all of the mime logistics worked out, Josh jumps in as he and Tony T systematically fuck the glamour out of Nicki for at least an hour and 15 minutes, Josh telling Nicki this is what you get for leaving me for a week.

T, now, must be doing something that’s pushing Hunter’s buttons because in a move that startles T as well as Zupko, Hunter, with maybe a last gasp of energy, turns the tables and starts giving T the verbal and physical what-for. With T prostrate as a pastrami sandwich, Hunter’s telling T she’s in the I can do whatever I want to stage of this scene. But you know the momentum is going to change. Hunter’s a red-faced raving lunatic, but T then squat fucks Hunter’s ass in a sequence that even amazes Zupko for it’s duration and ferocity, T’s body revereberating like a jack hammer operator’s. T is slumped and exhausted. Hunter, practically convulsive. You can almost hear the imaginary ambulances wailing in the distance.

“I’m so tired…I’m so tired,” she tells Zupko. Josh figures Nicki’s going to sleep for the next three days. She will not be dreaming of dicks in her ass.