Girlvert: A Porno Memoir Page 2

  We would all take ecstasy and sniff lines of cocaine. I loved both of those drugs and was willing to do anything while I was on them. Getting fucked by Tyler and Colby at the same time was very cool—at the time. They both were good-natured, fun guys that everyone liked. They described themselves as erotic beings who knew everything about the makings of great sex. Tyler was beautiful, and Colby wasn’t so bad. He was tall and had white-blonde hair. I couldn’t say he was downright sexy, but he definitely had a look. His style was all about Von Dutch, and Tyler worshiped it. He was a former bass player in a number of local Hollywood bands, and he was obsessed with fucking lots of different women. Colby talked about the girls that he fucked all the time. He told us more than once that his record of girls fucked in one night was eleven.

  What did I know about sexual confidence at twenty years old? Not a lot. I never thought I was hot enough or pretty enough for Tyler. I definitely didn’t feel hip enough to be a chick that Colby would be interested in. They were charming and always bragged about the hot chicks that had all fallen victim to their love. I ate all this shit up. Every word from their lips might as well have come straight from the Kama Sutra itself. When they fucked me at the same time, in my ass and in my pussy, and when I sucked their cocks simultaneously, I felt special. They wanted to do all this crazy stuff with me, and I was the crazy girl that was down for it. I was the sexy little nymph who could turn them on. I felt important.

  Yes, I felt important when Tyler and Colby double-penetrated me. Admitting it seems silly. This is the honest truth, though: I wanted to please them so badly. Validation from them was everything. All Tyler had to do was coax me a little, and I would have one cock in my mouth and get fucked by the other. Some nights there were more random guys that I really didn’t know, but Colby said they were cool. I trusted him, his opinion. Colby was the friend that Tyler looked up to the most. He idolized Colby. The fact that he loved to party with us had deep meaning for Tyler.

  They first introduced the idea of DP as if it were this really trendy new energy drink or video game that I would just love. Never mind the fact that I didn’t play video games or that it was three in the morning. But I was game. If it meant we were still going to party, then I was up for anything.

  “You guys have never done a DP? Oh, shit! You have got to try it. It’s so much fun, and it feels really good! Ora, every girl who has ever done this with me loved it!” Apparently, Colby did them all the time in LA, and back home in Norway. He was smiling so much and was such a trusted friend. I just smiled back and sniffed a line, silently noting every time he mispronounced my name.

  “Well. What? I mean, I don’t know. How does that work? How is it possible? Won’t I just break open? I don’t think you both will fit.” I was puzzled about how much my small frame could actually accommodate. Probably a lot, I figured, since women smaller than me have babies. The ecstasy, coke, and booze made me feel like anything was possible. This was true.

  As soon as we started having this kind of sex, we just wanted to do it all the time. I ended up being pretty decent at taking two cocks at the same time. Each time it happened, the sex got rougher and dirtier. I started shoving my hand completely into my own mouth and down my throat. It had always felt good to do this when I was barfing up my food alone over the toilet, so I just incorporated the gratifying feeling of self-purging into our sex. Tyler, Colby, and the others would take turns putting their hands in, and then their cocks. We did so much coke that we would all get dry mouth. I solved the problem by reaching down my throat, producing enough saliva to rejuvenate even the most drug-parched tongue.

  After I had cheated on him, I began to ask Tyler to grab me and pull my hair. I started to want some pain during our sexual encounters. He smacked me in the face while I blew him. He never hit me hard with his hand, but he would with his cock. I craved the physical infliction because I felt bad about myself for my infidelity. I wanted to show Tyler that he was important to me, so I gave this power over to him.

  Once, I was face down on our bed, in our apartment, while high on ecstasy. All I wanted was for us all to be happy, having a good time. We all began fucking. Tyler was on one side of my ass, Colby on the other. I knew someone was in there, just not who. Tyler and Colby had decent sized penises, about seven inches each. Their dicks seemed identical to me, even though I constantly reassured Tyler that his was bigger and felt better. In my daze, I heard them giggling.

  “What are you laughing at?” I was going to get upset. Were they making a joke out of fucking me?

  “No, Ora. We have both of our dicks in your ass! It’s fucking great!”

  “Yeah, baby, this is amazing!” Both of them looked like pubescent boys who were seeing their first tit all over again. I smiled and giggled into my pillow.

  With all of the recreational sex and experimenting going on in our lives, I guessed Tyler and I were ready and willing to do porn. We both thought, Okay, let’s just try it out once and see how we feel. Tyler liked watching X-rated movies, but he didn’t need to watch them when we lived together. He didn’t even need to masturbate because I was there for him anytime he needed to fuck or get a blowjob.

  Tyler was the first guy to successfully have anal sex with me. I had always wanted it but never could execute it correctly. I first tried when I was seventeen, inspired by my mother’s copy of Henry Miller’s Quiet Days in Clichy, which, among other things, is about Mr. Miller fucking French prostitutes in the ass. I didn’t know it would be so tight, so I told the boy to shove it in. We were young and didn’t know a thing about lube or spit. My asshole was dry when the cock went in. It was so painful I passed out. Until Tyler, each attempt at anal was similar to the first. When I finally found someone who made it feel good, I was in love even more.

  Tyler and I had the same philosophy: a hedonistic approach to life. Just like any young girl does with her first love, I planned to be with Tyler forever. “Whatever,” we said to one another. “It’s just porn. So what? Let’s try anything. Let’s be open-minded and not limit ourselves to what might be out there. We might enjoy it.” This is just a small sampling of the rationale Tyler and I rolled through in order to put our minds at ease for trying porn. We needed to give ourselves the proper ration of bullshit excuses. We weren’t hurting anyone. No one had to know. It’s not a crime. It’s legal. We will do it together, to be safe. If we don’t like it we’ll leave and never come back. It was our secret. We’d look out for each other. I loved Tyler, and he loved me, so why not? It was crazy, but so were we.

  Chapter Two

  Trent and Ashley

  I DROVE us back to World Modeling. This time I was going through that door with Tyler, whom I loved to the point of insanity. More than anything, I wanted to be just like him. Tyler was a true romantic that did not let silly things, like, oh, consequences, stop him from living every moment to its fullest. I had no idea what the physical standards were in porn, but I had seen VHS cover art shelving tapes as a video store clerk years before. The faces and bodies on those boxes looked ugly and crazy. I didn’t have a lot of confidence trying out to be a fashion model, but I knew I was definitely pretty enough for porn. Tyler was a good-looking guy. It felt like a joke between us, cakewalking into a porn casting interview.

  Ty, the agency guy, had us sit down and fill out paperwork. I was feeling much more at ease. My Tyler looked around with a huge smile on his face. The giant posters of the girls and their tits were ridiculous.

  Everyone else in that place took it all very seriously. Ty was not laughing with us, and neither were his coworkers, who remained busily focused on multiple telephones luring scores of faceless women on the other ends of the lines into spreading their legs on film for money. Tyler and I were a couple of Beavis and Butt-Heads, as if we were in a human development class encountering the word “vagina” for the first time. Not one sentence read or marked on those papers went without a “huhhuhhuhuh” from either one of us. My paper read: BLOW JOB_____, ANAL_____, DP_____, SWALLOW_____, G
ANG BANG_____, INTERRACIAL_____, and so on.

  “What is this part? What do I put here next to FACIAL?” I was trying my hardest not to laugh. I knew what it meant. I just wanted someone to explain it to me out loud. It was too funny.

  Ty let out a sigh and explained. “That is a list of what you’re willing to do on camera. The smart thing for a new girl to do is to start out doing solo stills for print work. After you’ve done all the magazines we can get for you, you move up to girl/girl stills and eventually boy/girl. Much later on in your career, you could consider doing anal, if that is something you decide. Oh, and don’t forget to mention if you have training in anything special, like dance or theatre. You know, I’ll tell you, the reason I’ve been kept working steadily in this business both in front of the camera and behind the scenes so long is because…I can act.”

  He was definitely acting. I resented Ty and his advice. Who was he to tell me how to live my new professional sex life? Ty was a little slimy and way out of shape, nothing like my Tyler. It’s so strange that such opposite people can have the same name. I could see that he may have once had a decent face, but he was at least forty pounds overweight, probably more. It worried me to think that there were guys this unattractive doing porno movies.

  As for his take on what I should allow myself to be seen doing on camera, well, no thank you. He couldn’t possibly think that I, Oriana Small, would be doing porn as a career. Maybe I’ll do it once, but not for anything long-term, was my thinking. What the hell was he saying about career longevity? Do people actually plan out that they are going to be fucking in a video for the rest of their lives?

  No way would I be doing this for very long. We hadn’t even done one scene, so it was kind of impossible to think about the long-term. How would I know if I could handle it? Or, much less, like it? How much will I regret it and for how long will it follow me? What if my family found out? Or my friends? My enemies? My teachers? Kids that I’ve babysat? Old neighbors? People I see on the street? How will it change the way they feel about me?

  All I knew at that moment was that I did not want a stretched-out pornography career any more than I wanted a stretched-out twat. I disregarded everything that Ty said I should do. I checked YES for every category. YES ANAL, YES BOY/GIRL, YES DP, YES BLOWJOB, YES SWALLOW, YES FACIAL, YES CREAMPIE.

  That should do it, I thought. That should give me a quick and lucrative stint in the profession. What I did listen to Ty about was the amounts of money I would be paid for each sexual act. Since my supportive and loving boyfriend and I were already engaging in these acts in our spare time, I didn’t bat an eye at doing them on film. If it was already bad enough if anyone found out I was doing porn period, then what difference would it make which deeds I’d be committing while doing it? Who cares? Boy/girl was $800. Anal paid $1,000. DP, $1,200. I thought, If I’m going to ruin my chances at running for political office or teaching school, I might as well make as much money as I can doing it.

  I also wanted to be as hardcore as I could be for personal reasons. For one, it would please Tyler and our friends so much, and pleasing everyone was very, very important to me. I had to keep going the distance sexually for myself, too. I had to soar. I wanted to live fully, extraordinarily, not just eking by with some weekend gang bangs from time to time. I realized I had never pursued much in my life with pure gusto, courage, and passion, and often felt caged, dull, and bored. Now, considering the far reaches sex could be pushed to, I felt free.

  Tyler just smiled and laughed and cheered the whole process on. When it came time to take the naked Polaroids, we went into a side room and stripped down. There was an old couch in the corner and a fat man with a camera waiting by the door. With Tyler there, I felt protected. He was the one who had to get his dick hard for the picture. All I had to do was undress, stick my butt out, smile, and say “cheese.” I got down on my knees and rubbed Tyler’s cock on my cheek and stuck it in my mouth. Tyler gave the camera his megawatt smile. His dick went up and stuck out proudly. Even in those green, dismal Polaroids, we both looked so fresh and innocent. It was awkward but painless.

  Ori became Ashley that day, and Tyler became Trent—our new porno identities.

  Chapter Three

  Dirty Debutante

  OUR first scene was booked within minutes after taking the Polaroids at World Modeling. Bill, the owner of the agency, made a call to Ed Powers. Ed always got the first scenes of anyone new to the business. He even paid for our HIV testing. Tyler and I would be paid fifteen hundred dollars. It was my suggestion that we should just do a DP. No one objected.

  Fifteen hundred dollars! It was the most money I’d ever earned. All of my jobs until then were paid by the hour or in tips. I remember having a five-hundred dollar paycheck once, but I worked day and night at a restaurant for two weeks to get it. Money was never something I could hold on to, either. At eighteen I blew through a twenty-thousand dollar trust that was supposed to be for college. I took out a loan for the education and spent the cash on a car, clothes, and drugs. Then I dropped out of school.

  The money was going to be for both of us. Tyler and I would split it, fifty-fifty. We were a team, an equal partnership, even though he was to be paid nothing for acting/fucking in the scene and the check was really only for me. The girls in porn always make more money than the guys. Approximately three times as much. New guys can barely get their foot in the porno door unless there is a new girl getting in with them. Established male producers, directors, and talent want the girls and gigs all to themselves. Everyone wants the new girl. Tyler and I vowed to stay together in scenes, so that both of us were actively participating in this new venture.

  Ed normally used only himself in the scenes as the male talent. This was going to be something special. His line of movies, Dirty Debutantes, is an amateur video series with the hook being filming first-time-on-camera sex scenes. The video shop where I used to work in Ventura had an adult section that devoted an entire wall to Ed’s Dirty Debutantes. They were yellow boxes with the title and some proletarian photos of girls in need of makeup. These young, corn-fed little girls were pictured having sex with Ed in smaller pictures on the back of the boxes. Though I had shelved porno at the video store, I had never once seen an entire adult film. I’d flipped through Playboy, but I could never look at one for too long—my eyeballs would start burning with fascination and confusing disgust mixed with envy. Envy would bubble inside me like natural carbonation.

  How insane, they must have thought. Here’s this new girl, and she’s pretty and fresh and sweet, and her first scene is going to be a DP? I was thinking, First scene? How about last scene? How am I going to go through with this? I thought about when I lost my virginity at thirteen. It was my choice to have sex with a boy who was fourteen. Afterward, I was so worried that I was going to look different enough that people would treat me like a slut and a whore. I’ve always had a lot of guilt surrounding my open attitude toward sex. And here I was, about to do porn. It was my choice. I wanted to try it. Still, I felt so damn guilty.

  We’d left World Modeling with our porno names Ashley and Trent to protect our true identities. Everyone jokes around with the idea in grade school, like how it has to be your street name and a pet name or middle name. I toyed with the technique, which would have been Rene Sorrento—pretty good, except that I have a cousin named Renee, and I just couldn’t do that to her. I was Ashley Blue, for no deep reason other than that it was different from my own name. Honestly, I thought that using the alias would keep me anonymous. I truly believed that people wouldn’t know it was really me if I changed my name. If anyone asked or accused me of doing a porn, I could just say, “No, look at the name. My name is Oriana Small. That video says Ashley Blue. It’s not me.”

  Deciding to do porn was too scary to think about realistically. I knew that my family could never feel good about my chosen profession. Even if it was only going to be temporary, it would be upsetting. My extended family, everyone except for my mother and father,
was made up of born again Christians. Every Sunday, they went to church and read the Bible. They would be sad and would pray when they found out I got involved with pornography. It would embarrass them.

  However, as gut-wrenching as the idea of my family’s reaction to pornography was, it wasn’t as powerful as the allure. I have never been a good kid. I’ve always liked being bad. I practiced smoking cigarettes in the mirror when I was thirteen and was the first girl to have sex in the eighth grade. I was suspended on my first day of high school for smoking, then again for wearing too short a miniskirt. I knew of better ways to behave, but they were not what I preferred. Breaking the rules was much more exciting. Porn was attractive because I knew it was bad. I didn’t know how I could ever face my aunts, uncles, cousins, and sister afterward, or if my actions would force them to stop loving me. I would be a bigger sinner to them, for sure. None of them would believe that this was the best I could do, or that it would make me happy. These relatives all helped raise me when my own parents failed. I didn’t want to disappoint them. But disappointment was inevitable. It felt like I was choosing porn over family, and my old life was ending.

  Getting the HIV test was scary. It brought in a true element of danger. It was Tyler’s first one, and my second. The year before, I got tested after taking the morning-after pill. I was nineteen and fucking this older, good-looking Armenian lawyer. When we finished I discovered that the condom was broken and lodged somewhere deep inside of me. I was terrified of unwanted pregnancy.