We all think that porn stars lead these wonderful, exotic lives. The reality is that they're just people like the rest of us. They have hopes. They have dreams. And feelings. Emotions. They love. They hate. Some days, they get up, and they don't want to go to work. Others, they really enjoy what they do. Their job just happens to be having sex on camera.
I guess it doesn't take a lot of introspection to understand the draw. I mean, we all like sex, right? But that's not really it. It's the attention. It's the knowledge that somewhere, at any given time, someone is getting off while looking at you. And that's addictive.
For me, I can trace the source of the attraction back pretty much as far as I can remember. I've talked a little about it before, but I kind of faded into the background while I was growing up. It was the same everywhere. At school, I was just the little quiet kid who kept to himself. At home, I was usually alone (Mom was always working and my father...well, he just wasn't in my life). Sure, I got attention from Amy, but even with her, I kind of felt like she was somewhere else. I can admit that now, when I'm far enough removed from the relationship that I can see it clearly. I guess I was just a substitute.
So when Mr. Erickson said I was ready, it was very, very scary for me. It was one thing to put on a little one-on-one show for a stranger with only a webcam for company. It was quite another to do it with a camera crew around.
And then there was the fact that I knew what sort of movies we'd be making. I wasn't stupid. I knew that wasn't going to be with a woman. How did I feel about that? Again -- fear is the first word that comes to mind.
But there was also excitement. I won't deny it. The idea that people wanted to see me, that they thought I was special made me recognize a side of myself that I'd never even knew existed.
Still, though, as I arrived at the small sound stage, I was so nervous; I remember thinking that I might get sick.
I concentrated on my few lines. As with most movies of its ilk, I wouldn't have to say much. My character was a teenaged boy who gets seduced by an older man. Simple. And then there was the sex.
When I came in, Mr. Erickson greeted me, and asked me to sign a bunch of forms. They had to get a copy of my driver's license (I guess to prove my age). Disclaimers and contracts -- there were so many that it took almost thirty minutes to get through them all.
When I was done, they took me to wardrobe. I remember thinking that what they had me wear was so scandalous. Those shorts were so short and that top...it was barely there. The underwear was so tight and skimpy. And when I looked in the mirror, I saw a boy -- no, not really a boy...something else -- who was just aching for it.
And then I met my costar. I don't remember his name; I never saw him again after that day. But I remember he was reassuring; I guess he knew I was nervous. Did he know it would be my first time -- on camera or otherwise -- to be with a man? I don't know. Anyway, he was an older guy - around forty or so -- but he was rugged, handsome, and muscular. I remember that he had just a touch of gray in his hair.
Most people think that the people who work in the porn industry are inherently sleazy. I know I did. But they aren't. The crew were so nice to me; they didn't leer. They didn't give off that oily vibe. Kind of like Mr. Erickson.
And then the time came for my debut.
If I'm honest, I have to say that there wasn't much acting going on. The character was kind of close to who I was then, so my reactions were almost second nature.
When he touched me, I instinctively flinched, but he relaxed me by rubbing my shoulders. When I first touched his hardening penis through his slacks, the shock on my face wasn't acting. It felt so thick, so solid. When I unzipped his fly, the anticipation, the nervousness, the excitement -- all real. When I reached in, and freed it from his underwear, the hesitation wasn't an act.
When I first set eyes on it, with my dainty hand wrapped around its base, I couldn't help but say, "But it's so big..." It came out in a hoarse whisper. I had been prepared for a penis, but that thing...it was my first experience with a real cock.
I never expected it, but my instincts actually took over. I thought that I'd hesitate. I thought that I'd have to force myself to touch it, to caress it, to lick it. But that all happened so naturally. It was like I'd been waiting my entire adult life to finally realize that for all those years with Amy, that I had simply been pretending. Maybe she was as much a substitute for me as I was for her.
I licked. I sucked. I cradled his balls. I was so into it that I forgot people were watching.
I thought that we'd get direction, that someone would say, "Okay, now it's time for the anal sex!" or something. But they just let it go. It all happened so organically that it was easy to forget where I was, what was happening.
The set was built to mimic a living room, and my costar was sitting on the couch, while I knelt in front of him, sucking that enormous cock. I was almost in a daze; I didn't even think about it. I just stood, climbed atop him, and lowered myself onto him. I don't know what came over me; I just took over. It felt so empowering, being in control. I decided how fast we went. I was the one in charge. And I loved every second of it.
He actually came inside of me -- which was a novel sensation -- after only fifteen minutes. As I felt his cock soften, I sort of came out of my daze. There wasn't another sound to be heard. I looked around. No one was moving. They all just stared. I even saw one cameraman whose mouth stood open, gaping like an idiot.
"G-good job," I heard Mr. Erickson stammer.
Looking back, nothing about that first movie was anything resembling professional. Everything just screamed amateur. But I was young, then, and so inexperienced. Some people might say that they took advantage of me.
I wouldn't trade that experience for the world, though.