Free Tour     (The Book)


         

Introduction

There has been much talk of the sexual revolution in the nineteen-sixties. With the advent of the birth control pill, rock and roll, the freedom of the automobile, a growing transient society, etc.,etc. the youth of the day developed a much freer attitude toward casual, pre-marital sex than perhaps any generation before them. The guilt and shame that was a integral part of their parent's generation in regard to all matters sexual seemed to evaporate in the mid-sixties and a huge population of baby boomers took to having sex with each other with a gusto. That "revolution" continued into the disco seventies fueled by drugs like marijuana and cocaine, but by the early eighties with the advent of AIDS the whole affair came to a screeching halt. Suddenly, monogamy seemed like a good idea. The bible thumpers had a field day, embracing the deathly disease as something to celebrate - a final proof that their repressed, psychotic fear of sexuality had been vindicated. It seemed for a time as if that might be where the situation would stand. With no cure for AIDS on the horizon, the revolution seemed to be at an end.

Suddenly, almost out of nowhere it seemed, came the real revolution.

Suddenly, a ground swell came up out of the masses. A ground swell of pleasure.

Suddenly, people were having sex again and enjoying it and wanting to share it with other people.

Suddenly, men and women were admitting to the "polymorphous perversity" that Freud had, surprisingly enough, originally predicted.

And, not surprisingly, it was the global electronic communications media that not only allowed it to happen, but accelerated the pace at which it did happen.

Suddenly, with the advent of the internet and satellite tv, a whole new view of what it meant to be a sexual being came on stage. As enough sexual content permeated the media, you began to see people you knew. Given the unexpected opportunity, everyone either started watching and/or creating porn. They saw people like themselves having fun. Getting off. Letting it all hang out.

It swept the land. With a fury. Like a tidal wave.




All the while the mainstream media were pretending that it was still an isolated phenomenon, something relegated to the back alleys and the back rooms of the culture. Regular folk, on the other hand, were tuning into the sex channels on satellite tv and the porn sites on the web en masse.

Not only were people watching more sex, they were experiencing more sex. Not only were people having more sex, they were widening their sexual horizons like never before.

The first and most obvious manifestation of these widened horizons was the explosion of female bi-sexuality. Women were realizing their "polymorphous perversity" with delight. You saw it everywhere. At first, the usual nay-sayers tried to pass it off as some kind of passing fad or trend, trying in their usual way to quash something they either didn't like, didn't understand, or were afraid of. But the cat was out of the bag. Once women tried it, they liked it. What was not to like?




As women started to shed the old taboos, they began to discover other previously unknown or unadmitted aspects of their sexuality. The fact that women could truly enjoy sex, were capable of overwhelming orgasms had been known and accepted for years. Then came the discovery that they were capable of multiple orgasms within one love making session. With these realizations and that of their bi-sexuality, women began to really take possession of their pleasure. One thing led to another.

In previous years, it became obvious to everyone that men like to watch women engaged in sexual activity. Every man had his own stash of porn tapes and/or books. This male trait often became a problem with women. Watching sexual activity, by and large, didn't excite most women. It didn't arouse them. This was a source of major frustration for men who wanted women to share their predilection. Slowly but surely, however, it became clear what was going on. It was a fact that the majority of women were not interested in watching sexual activity. The fact that emerged was that women liked to be watched having sex. It excited them. It aroused them. It made them wet and nasty.

Once this natural polarity of watching and being watched became clear, things really took off.




It was then that millions of average, normal people began to create their own pornography. By early 2003, if you were to call up a search engine like Google and type in "amateur sex", over two million sites would come up. By the middle of 2004 the number was 4.7 million and counting. By 2008, it was over 9,000,000. The revolution was truly off and running. It was not going to be stopped by politicians, bible-thumpers, prudes, schools, law enforcement agencies, or any of it. The people were discovering themselves, and they liked what they found.

There were, of course, certain individuals who were lucky enough to be on the cutting edge of this bonified revolution.

This is the story of a group of friends who stumbled their way into being pioneers of this exploration into the previously unknown territory of human sexuality.

There are seven plots. They are: 1. Comedy 2. Tragedy 3. The Quest 4. Revelation 5. Voyage and Return 6. Overcoming the Monster 7. Rebirth .

---

"How's that for an intro? Not bad, huh? . . . Yeah, I've got the rest of the story all outlined. I'm gonna sit down one of these days pretty quick and start writing it."

Through the large picture windows I can see lightning. Here. There. As the summer storm marches south to north across the valley below. Thunder goes off like explosions. I watch a bolt hit the ground five miles away on the valley floor and all of Clarkdale's lights go out. A truck rolls by on the street twenty feet below, tires hissing on the rain slicked pavement. Thirty miles away, the lights of Sedona are obscured by the low, dark, thick clouds.

His voice from across the room is like tires over gravel. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you tell it to me now, Buzzkill?" He's throwing a dead soldier in the garbage next to the fridge.

"Tell you now? What? The whole story? Dude, it's a long story. We'd be here all night . . . " The open front door lets in the warm, moist air in small gusts.

His voice is like hacking phlegm. "Well, fuck, what's my name? Skip? From El Paso? Where you goin? S'not like you got some little hottie whathaveyou waitin upstairs. C'mon, buzz, bust it out! Give it!"

He comes across the room, and comes in close. He's got his finger in my face. The back of his throat chews on the words as they come out. "I want to know the whole . . . scenario . . ." His hands describe worlds in the air, inches away from my nose. " . . . the whole . . . perspective . . . of what pertains to the . . . hotties . . . "

His eyes lay on me. At this point I can only run out the front door or give in. He's two hundred pounds of insistent Yavapai. Thick black hair spilling out from underneath his straw cowboy hat. Darin Lewis, pure blood, family tree back to the beginning. He's on me. There's no turning him off. And besides, it's one of those summer storms when the rain comes down in sheets and we're going nowhere.

The town's one watt pirate radio station is on and blaring balls out on a Friday night. For some reason we've lit a small fire in the fireplace off to the left. Seems as good a time as any for storytelling. Lightning and thunder explode close by, rattling the windows. "Alright, alright!" I say, settling back into the couch "Get off it, don't get all bockelyeveh," I say, "I'll tell you. But you'd better roll up a fatty and get another hamala. Yeah, fucker, and get me one while you're at it. "

He does all the above. He comes back over to the sofa with the beers and flops down. He rolls the blunt, sparks it, and passes it over. He gives me the look. As he does, I take a hit and look around the living room - the dark slate tile floors, the exposed beams overhead, the black walnut trim around the windows, the brick fireplace, and it takes me back to the beginning

"Okay, Jesus!, take it easy . . . okay, alright, where to start? . . . I guess it'd be when he hired me to remodel this place.

It was the summer of 98, I think, and I was still remodeling these old dumps. I felt like I was finally detoxing from that six years in Hollywood. That had been a fucking roller coaster ride. I told you about all that, right? From the heights to the depths? From living up on Mulholland to living in a one bedroom apartment across the street from the Roxy, to living out of my car? . . . Yeah, that was fucked up.

Anyway, so Lazaro tells me that I should go see this new guy. That he needs some help. Well, of course, that's Rob. He hires me right off, and I start working on his house. We hit it off immediately and it doesn't take long for him to start spilling the beans. Next thing I know he's showing me Anna's site. Girlie's Cam. Her license plate reads "Girlie" . . . Who knew?. . . Then he starts telling me about the joint . . ."

---

On February 6, 1998 Robert Allen Mannino walked into the bright Arizona sun from the dark steel gates of Florence Prison. Five long years had passed since he first entered what they called "the university" for what the State called "fraud, schemes, and artifices". The Feds simply called it "wire fraud". It had only taken him a few months to stop blaming everyone else and realize that it was his own greed and obsession with beating the system that had landed him in the slammer. The next four and a half years were spent waiting, reading, working out, and trying to watch his diet. By the time his term came to an end, he was pretty ripped. It was the only good thing prison was for. He had shaved his head, because he was starting to go bald anyway. He had grown a mustache and goatee to go with the chrome dome. The Mexican cons called him "bellon". As he stood outside the gates waiting for his ride, he knew he looked good. Buff and somewhat intimidating. He liked that. What he didn't like is the fact that he had just wasted the prime years of his twenties inside a prison.

At the time of course, the telemarketing schemes seemed like the easy ride, the golden flow. Money came in bucket loads. He lived the high life. Bought Jaguars. Hired hookers. All it took was a good set of leads, a slick line, a refusal to take no for an answer, and an ability to talk a blue streak to blue hairs and make the lies sound good.

Now, however, that was all over. He never wanted to step inside a jail again. He had vowed to never do anything illegal again. That vow, unfortunately, limited his options. He knew that he was not the nine to five type. He knew that when you looked up "employee" in the dictionary, you would not find his picture. But for now, he wasn't going to worry about it. He was out. And that's all that mattered. It was time to get drunk and laid and not necessarily in that order. His friend, Bill, an MD who lived in north Phoenix pulled up in his 1990 white corvette convertible and Rob threw his small bag in the back boot and slid onto the leather. Bill reached across and they embraced.

"I need a drink", said Rob.

"Check the cooler in the back", said his friend . . .

---

"That's what he tells me. So, he's hanging out in Bill's condo on northern 16th street in Phoenix. After the joint, it was heaven. Had his own bedroom. Fridge was filled with food and beer. Big screen tv with cable. Plush living room. Pool down the way. He could go wherever he wanted. Still had the PO, of course. Meetings, piss tests. The whole deal. Couldn't own a gun. Couldn't vote. Couldn't stop smiling.

A few days in, he starts thinking about dough. Sees this ad where he can buy a turn-key porn site for a few hundred. So, he buys in. First thing he learns is that just because you got a site, doesn't mean anybody knows how to find it. I mean this is '98, for Christ's sake. It was a newborn thing. He starts poking around trying to sort things out. Finds out there this thing called "traffic".

I mean it was easy enough back then to create a site. You thought up a catchy url like XXXTeens, registered the name, found a host, bought some photos of people fucking, threw together some kind of raunchy design, hired another company like CCBill to process the credit card transactions, and opened for business.

But you gotta have "traffic".

Surfers had to get to your site. A few, on their own, might figure out that somewhere in cyberspace there might be a site called XXXTeens, but those few were the exception. You had to figure out how to get surfers to your site.

Hey, are you sure you want to hear everything? I could skip through some of this . . . er . . .

His voice is like Popeye's on steroids. "Dude . . . C'MON! . . . dish it up!" His hands roll in the air. Speed it up!

"Okay . . .

So, anyway, to fill the need for traffic, a whole new type of site sprung up. They were called them TGPs - Thumbnail Gallery Posts. You've been to "The Hun" Yeah, he was one of the first. Guy's multi-millionaire now. The deal is - you make a little one page teaser of your site and submit it to the Hun. If he accepts it and if he puts you high on his list of links, you're guaranteed getting tens of thousands of hits. Like right now. It was crazy. Now, getting hits was one thing, then you needed "click throughs" In other words, once the surfer gets to your little dog and pony show you put on the Hun, then they got to "click through" to your actual site. When they finally reach the holy ground, you got to tease them enough for them to pull out the plastic. To become a member, of course. All done, online, using a credit card. If a surfer buys a membership it's called a "conversion".

So, it goes like this. First you need a "site". Then you have to create or buy "content". To get surfers to your site, you needed "traffic" to "click through". Finally, the "click throughs" have to "convert". Then, and only then, do you go to the bank.

While, he was busy figuring it all out, he still had to bring in some regular money and have a job as per his parole. He becomes a bouncer at a bar in Phoenix called Mahoney's. He meets Anna there. They hook up. They move in together.

In the breaks between the sex, he sees the big picture. He's got two choices. Make your own site with original content, or, manipulate the traffic flowing around the net. Pretty quickly into the development of the online industry, webmasters created "affiliate programs". It was a system that, if you got traffic to a particular website and the traffic that you sent "converted", you were paid part of the membership fee - monthly - as long as the person was a member. Beautiful. You could also get paid just for the traffic itself. Sites would pay per every time someone accessed their site whether they joined or not, because they knew that out of a thousand hits they would get a certain number of sign ups. Well, at least back then. He saw the gold in them hills.

So,he becomes a master of traffic manipulation. He learns all the tricks of the trade. "Pop-ups", "boxing the "surfer" into a "circle-jerk","proxy servers". He learned all the cheats. He had to. To monitor his own traffic. Because eventually he had people from all over the world working under him, pushing traffic around. He would pay these people per click. If there were fake "uniques", he lost money - $100 here - $40 there. It added up. He wouldn't deal with people from certain countries, like Russia, because of all the attempted cheating. He called his program "Cheat Traffic" . . ..

One night we get really ripped and he opens up the computer and starts to showing me how he moved traffic around, submitted to tgps, and promoted various membership sites, I was impressed. Here was this guy, sitting at home, here in Jerome no less, watching porn, and making lots of money off of it, enough to buy and remodel this house. Not only was that all happening, he had this hot girlfriend who was helping him, who loved porn, and who was developing her own webcam site. Here was a lifestyle.

This is where you start tuning in. Remember the un-marriage? . . .

He laughs loud. It kind of sounds like someone ripping a telephone book in half. His eyes squint and his white teeth show in his wide dark face. The storm has finally eased up some.

"Yeah, that was fucked up!"

"Yeah, laugh, go ahead . . . They were so serious. They both took catechism . . . "

He gives me the quizzical, what kind of white thing is that? look.

"It's some kind of Catholic thing . . . I don't know . . . Some kind of school . . . Yeah, so these two were getting baptized into the Catholic faith, so the marriage would be kosher . . .

But as we're hanging out and the wedding's getting closer, things start getting weird. I noticed him starting to get hot about Heather, for Christ's sake."

"Yeah, I saw that too!" he croaks, his eyes glinting with the look of someone just putting the pieces of a puzzle together. His voice grinding out the words "I could see that he was getting to be a BIG fan!"

"They invited all of their families. Rob's were flying in from Detroit. Anna's were coming up from Phoenix. Rob had booked the Catholic Church for the ceremonies and the entire restaurant at the Grande Hotel for the reception. He was dropping some big bucks. You could tell though . . . all along . . . at least I could . . . there was trouble coming."

"Hey, hold on a minute." He gets up from the couch, goes over to the stereo and puts on some Government Mule. He keeps the volume low enough. Walks over and passes the joint . . .

"Anyway, a week before the wedding, we go down to Phoenix for the bachelor party. Rented a limo, collected a handful of his Phoenix buddies, and made the rounds of every tittie bar in town. I think we got kicked out of about four places. It was a wild night that ended up back at Dr. Bill's with blow and whores until the sun came up.

When we got back to Jerome, Anna tells Rob that she's going to have her bachelorette party in Las Vegas. She takes off. Suddenly, it was a day before the wedding. All of the relatives and friends had shown up and were staying at wherever. The restaurant had geared up and ordered all the booze and food. Rob had managed to get into a fight with the owners of the parking lot next to the Church who refused to let him use their lot for guest parking. He was wound pretty tight by that time. Anna wasn't back and had turned off her cell phone .

Finally, the night before the wedding, he comes to the catastrophic realization that Anna she's not going to show up. He calls her cell and leaves a message on her voice mail, telling her not to bother coming back, that he had called off the wedding. Little did he know that she was busy balling some Italian gorilla high on ghb from back east called Mario.

But you got to give it to him. He goes ahead with the party anyway. What a guy. Everyone shows up. All the relatives. Well, you know. You were there. The unwedding party. Brilliant . . .

"I know . . ." He's laughing. "The whole fucking town showed up." He's growling "Just let the word out that it's a taste of free booze, right?"

"Yeah, so Rob was hammered and working on Heather upstairs. Me and Tammy . . . you know we had broken up a week earlier? . . . yeah so we were dancing around each other, not knowing what to do. I don't think anyone knew quite what to say or do. So everybody did a lot of blow and a lot of booze.

Wait a minute, I got the pictures around here someplace . . . yeah, look . . . there you are . . . Hah! Look at us. Tammy looks like she got her finger in a socket. . . Jesus!"




He's laughing again. "Right! . . . Then fucking Anna shows up! Dressed to the nines . . . That flipped the whole trip into the twilight zone . . . I don't want to get married, she's saying, prancing around with them nifty boobies . . I just came for the party . . . Yeaaaah!"

"Check it out . . . here she is . . ."


Rob's sister, Rob, Anna

"The happy uncouple. Wow . . . Missy's got some BALLS on her, Buzz . . ."

"So that's when Anna splits for Vegas and Rob and me go into a period for the next few months that he liked to call 'recovery'. We partied hard. Way hard. We kept working though, I'll say that. I was still pounding nails around town. Rob kept building his empire. That's when he got the office down at the old high school, and started balling Heather. He was even teaching her how to submit to the TGPs and shit.

When we came out of the recovery period, he decided to kick things up a notch. He was making good money doing what he was doing, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to swing a big dick. He wanted to play with the big boys. By this time, he knew some. He finally approached Lensman about giving him a job . . .

"Lensman? What's his gig?" He sounds like the frog in his throat has got frog in his throat.

"He's like the Hun. Got in the scene early. Created a site in the early nineties called "Busty Amateurs". It made him millions. Now, he's got all his sites under Adult.com So, Rob calls him and sells himself. Gives him a pitch about increasing his traffic. Lensman buys it and hires him. Catch is, Rob's got to move up to Sacramento where Lensman's based. He says, fuck it. Lets Heather stay in the house and he goes.

Things got quiet then.

I kept pounding nails. That's when I started The Jerome Times. So months go by . . . right . . . and we're e-mailing and shit and then he sends me this e-mail with a link to a fairly new site - www.fuckingmachines.com. Well . . . . turns out it's all about chicks fucking themselves with machines - motorized dildos. This was new. There were machines called "the intruder, the violator, the hammer, shit like that. What got me was that the chicks were really getting off. Orgasm after orgasm. Impressive orgasms. Big, loud, humping, thumping, screaming orgasms. It was one beautiful site."

I flip open the laptop on the coffee table and boot it up.

"I'll tell you what really got me about it. There was a purity to the experience that struck me. Now, this was the act of pure penetration. The chicks didn't have to be concerned about pleasing a guy, or whether he could fuck them with power and speed and consistency, or whether he would come early, or whether they had to spend the night, or call him the next morning. This was pure penetration. Most of the machines had a remote control so that they could control and vary the speed and or depth of penetration. Finally, they could get fucked they way they wanted to be fucked. As I watched, I saw these chicks realizing their true sexual potential. They came over and over and over. They smiled. They laughed. They sweat. They ejaculated with explosive force. They were satisfied"

He laughed loud and long as we clicked through some of the free content on the site. "Wow, look at her! She's nifty.



"Yeah, you know it. It was fucking hot. It reinforced something that I had always believed - the hottest porn concentrated on the female orgasm.

Meanwhile, Rob's not digging being an employee. He actually had to punch in and out, sit at a desk, and take orders. No bueno. The money was good, but it was a dead end. Shit, you got to realize that he was still seeing five figures a month redirecting traffic, plus the few large that Lensman was breaking off. He just wanted more.

I knew he wasn't happy so I shot him an e-mail telling him he ought to get in touch with the people at Fucking Machines and start talking to them. I saw the future of porn, and it was fucking machines. Next thing you know he's in San Francisco for an interview. Then, boom, he's working at www.cybernetentertainment.com

Course, his job there was to bring an immense amount of traffic to the site. Hundreds to times more hits per day than they ever had before. Sit at a computer. Increase the cash flow. Collect the dough. But you know him. He wanted in the mix. It wasn't long before he was getting in on the shoots.

"Yeah, well, what's the point working at one of these scenarios unless you're tapping into whohaveyou?"




"Check it out, turns out, the new boss is a fan of Girlie's Cam. Go figure. So he asks Rob to ask Anna to come up for a shoot at www.whippedass.com another one of their sites. Sure enough, she shows up and does shoots for fucking machines and whipped ass. When I talked to her later, she said she came a lot with the machines but said she came the hardest during her whippedass shoot with this female dominator named Chanta Rose

"So, where are we now?" He coughs from the joint.

". . . What . . . Oh, let me think . . must have been in November 2002 . . . somewhere in there.




So, anyway, Anna splits and Rob gets in deeper. Sometime in December, they want him to run one of the machines on a shoot that with a chick who squirts . . . "

"Okay, hold on just a minute, Buzz. What's with the squirting? I've heard some shit, but, c'mon . . ." He's over at the fridge getting a couple more beers. His voice is a foghorn "Sounds like an urban legend." He walks over and hands me a Corona. Outside, the clouds are starting to break up. I can see a few stars. The clouds are outlined in silver. Must be a big moon tonight lighting them up from above.

"No, it's the real deal. There are true squirters. Actually, they say they all can squirt. Here check it out!.

He watches Cytherea explode in a huge orgasm and shoot liquid eight feet across the room and splash on the camera lens.

His roar can be heard down the street. "Whoa-ho!!! What the fuck! Dude! That's fucking gnarly!"

"Dude. They've done the research. Scientists have figured it out. They say it's like a prostate fluid . . .

Anyway, when you got a squirter on set everything is geared toward getting good clear shot of the squirt itself. This is paramount. For Rob, this was a first. His assignment was to work the girl with what they called the "fucksall". Yeah . . . It's a sawsall with a big ole dildo attached to it.

The chick's name is Phoenix, and she takes Rob aside and tells him what's up. She says, "When I'm about to come, I'll give you a cue so that you can pull the machine out and I can really cut loose. I'll touch you lightly on the left hand. As soon as I do, pull out and stand back".

Sure enough, after a few minutes of working her with the fucksall, she touches him, he pulls the fucksall out and she explodes.

Later he tells me, 'When I pulled it out, she just about exploded. I mean she came so hard that it squirted over my shoulder and hit the wall in back of me. It was unbelievable. To be honest with you, I was a little disappointed in the whole deal.' That's what he tells me. And I go - 'disappointed? What the fuck? What were you disappointed about?'

He gets this shit eating grin on his face. 'None of it got on me.' Hah!

But here's the deal. The more he talked about it the more I realized that he was stepping into some new territory. As the porn industry kept pushing boundaries, it was, at the same time, discovering things about human sexuality that had heretofore been unknown. It really made me stop and think.

He told me that just before she came, her pussy tightened up hard. Her face and upper body flushed and she got this sudden thin sheen of sweat on her face. It just happened all at once.

I realized that he was involved in some of the most cutting edge research into the nature of the female orgasm. Some of what he was seeing had never been documented before.

This put a new face on things. "

"Fuck, I guess." He says this as he is scrolling through "See Her Squirt.com".

"Yeah, so, come January 03, it's time for the Porn convention in Vegas. Tammy and I are back together again. We had just got back from one of our trips to Mexico. Anna's living in Vegas, and her and Rob are talking. Rob goes up a couple of days early and gets everything set up at the Venetian. His current and recent employers are throwing the opening night party together in the Doge suite on the top floor of the hotel. I booked a room at the hotel a few floors below large enough for myself and Tammy and Anna. Rob's employers had booked rooms for their people. Now Rob is pretty stressed out, because it's his job to make this party work. One thing that he's got to have besides enough free booze to hammer an army is a live sex show. It's mandatory. As the party approaches, he's feeling pretty good. Thinks he's got it all covered.

Anyway, so I'm with Tammy and Anna in our room, and they're taking there time fluffing up, and we end up making a fashionably late appearance.



Now, the plan was that when the party got going, two or three models would put on a show for the crowd using one or two of the portable machines from the website. When I and Tammy and Anna arrived (after checking in to their room) the party was already raging. Free booze fueled the festivities. It was all industry people, networking with each other, swapping stories, and getting hammered. As one hour turned into two, I began to wonder when the entertainment was going to take place. I threaded his way through the shoulder to shoulder drunken crowd to find our buddy. Rob informs me that when the models' boyfriends took a look at the mob, they refused to let their girls perform. Now he's getting wound tight, but after a short talk with Anna and her hot friend Christina, the problem was solved. Christina quickly went into one of the luxurious showers and freshly shaved her pussy. Anna, on the other hand, was ready to go. She stuck a digital camera in my hand, told me that I was now her official photographer, and drug me through the crowd.

The girls went into the larger bathroom with the jacuzzi, pulled out the fucksall, and started the show. The crowd went nuts. Cameras were everywhere. Flashbulbs popped so often it was like someone turned on a strobe. People were yelling and encouraging the girls on. Here, look.




He's laughing his balls off. "Dude! . . . what the fuck! . . . is that the back of your head?! . . . "

---

In the two months that followed Rob went back to San Francisco, continuing to build the membership base of Cybernet Entertainment's various websites. He knew how to bring more and more traffic to the sites by hooking up with the major TGPs on the net - The Hun, Al4A, Ampland, World Sex, and many more.

Anna, who had already started taking on a few clients, decided to try doing a week at the newest legal brothel outside of Vegas, called Sheri's Ranch. Unlike the famous Bunny Ranch which was just a series of double wides surrounded by a chain link fence, Sheri's was truly a resort. They had a salon, massage room, jacuzzis, swimming pool, well appointed suites, a restaurant, excellent security, and strict health rules. They brought in their clients from Vegas on helicopters or in Limos. They were building a golf course and time share condos. Sheri's was the next step up in legal brothels. The girls worked as independent agents, setting their own rates and services. When they arrived at the resort, they were tested for all sexual diseases and then kept in quarantine until the results returned. During their stay, they were not allowed to leave the premises. Needless to say, there was big money to be made.

During this period it was slowly dawning on me that I was in a unique position - socially, historically, creatively. I realized that I was gaining access to a world revolution in human mores. It also came to me that it didn't appear as if anyone was documenting this revolution from the inside - on the cutting edge. I decided to look into the matter.

I began researching the internet for the current state of sexual affairs in the world. My first and foremost tool of research was, naturally, the Internet. One avenue that I pursued was to call up the Yahoo search engine and type in certain key words. I typed in "female orgasm" and came up with over two million sites. I typed in "lesbian" and got 3 million. I typed in "group sex" and got 3.5 million. I typed in "gay sex" and got four million. Finally, I just typed in "sex" and got 137,000,000 websites dedicated to that general category. 137,000,000!

The ground swell was enormous. There were 137,000,00 sites, but how many people were out there surfing them? 200,000,000? 500,000,000? 1,000,000,000?! The implications were staggering. I realized that we were definitely at the beginning of a social upheaval that, perhaps, had never been seen before in human history. An upheaval that concentrated on one of the most basic and primal of human activities. An activity so integral to the human experience that the race would not survive without it. An activity that was one of, if not the most, physically pleasurable that a human could experience. As I researched the subject more deeply, I could not find any group, or individual, or institution that was documenting or chronicling the revolution in any real depth or breadth.

I saw a hole to be filled.

It hit me like a hammer. I would write a book about mine and Rob's adventures on the cutting edge of this revolution. It was a natural. Not only would I write the book. I and Rob would create a website that was an adjunct to the book and would continue to chronicle the revolution after the book was published. The opportunities for and movie and/or tv show were immediately apparent. The beauty of the idea was that we already had someone on the forefront of these developments - Mannino. The added beauty of it was that Rob was dying to create his own membership website and make the kind of money that his current bosses were making - and he had the ability and connections to do it.

The website would be multi-faceted. On one hand, it would be an ongoing document of our adventures in the land of sex - from the behind the scenes look at making porn, to backstage after parties at porn conventions, to their travel to exotic locations, to our relationships, etc., etc. On another level, there would be the actual creation of sexual content in which our focus would be women discovering the intensity, breadth, and depth of their own sexuality. We would interview the willing participants and provide whatever they needed to totally let go of all their inhibitions and experience their sexuality on the deepest and most intense levels - much to the education and pleasure of the website's paying membership. And finally, the site would act as a portal to the rest of the world of sexual activity from mainstream academia to professional porn to the exploding world of amateur porn.

Once I e-mailed Rob about this idea, we were off to the races.

And then came the war on Iraq.

I was astounded by what I saw as blind, ideologically driven bully boy tactics by the Bush neocons. I thought it went against everything that we had been taught to believe in about the country in which we lived. You simply did not throw the first punch. You took the hit and then came back and struck the attacker so hard that they would never think of doing it again. Like Japan. Like Germany. Then, and only then, do you have the moral high ground.

I thought we were perfectly justified going into Afghanistan and should have continued to overturn every rock until we found Bin Laden. On the other hand, to unilaterally attack another country, claiming that you believed (and had no proof) that they had weapons of mass destruction that you thought they might be thinking about using on you in some unknown future date, was the height of madness and paranoia. And then to claim later that not only were you defending national interests, but that you were liberating the people you were attacking, and that god told you to do it, ratcheted up the level of insanity even more. It had been Japan's excuse when they went into China. It had been the Soviet's excuse when they cordoned off eastern Europe. It had been Saddam Hussein's excuse when he went into Kuwait. It was unacceptable and put you in the company of evil.

At the same time, I realized that the war, unexpectedly and paradoxically, provided us an unparalleled opportunity. On one hand was the war. On the other hand was the revolution. Thanatos and Eros. Eros and Thanatos. The constant battle within the human psyche, first laid out by Freud in "Civilization and Its Discontents". As I spelled out my thoughts to Mannino, he grasped it immediately. It was laughably obvious. He immediately came up with the first slogans, taking "make love - not war" to the next level.

Summer 2003



In the spring, Rob's bosses decided that he wasn't bringing in as much traffic as they had hoped for, so they decided to cut his commission and only pay him his salary (which rounded out to $75,000 per year). As much as he had enjoyed working for the company and living in San Francisco, the loss of his commission was not only financially substantial (equalling his salary), but he took the downsizing personally. He felt that it was time to come back home and start on the project.

By early summer he had moved back to town, rented his old offices down at the old High School, started his own paid website, Just Sluts, and hired me on to help him create graphics, build galleries, and edit content. Just Sluts was a basic meat and potatoes membership website as far as the content, but it allowed Rob to put together the structure that we would use later for our project. He had copied the approach of another site called "Movie Pink" which took clips from x-rated videos produced by such companies as Vivid, Wicked, Anabolic, and the like and then directed the surfer to a source from which they could buy the videos. It was a suspect approach, but it was what he had chosen as his first project.

Putting together a membership website was complicated. Not only did you have to acquire or produce a large volume of content to compete with other sites, but the business side of the equation was also daunting. The website had to be made of at least two sections. One was what was called the "tour". When surfers reached your site they were greeted with a front page that warned them that the site contained adult content and not to proceed unless they were over eighteen and wanted to see visuals of people engaged in sexual activity. If they wanted to proceed they clicked on a link that took them to the tour. The tour was both a preview and a tease. Enough material was presented to allow the surfer to get a good idea of what waited inside if he or she wanted to become a member. If, in fact, they did want to join the site, then they had to go to the sign up page. The join page included a form for the prospective member to fill out. It, of course, needed a credit card number. Now, all the financial transactions were done by a third party. This third party, in this case a company called PayCom, processed all the credit card transactions and sent the website owner a check every month.

Once the surfer joined the site, he or she was given a password and allowed into the members area. The members area contained the large volume of content that I mentioned earlier. Rob provided various still photos and movie clips from films such as Ass Stretchers. If you liked what you saw on the site, you could go to the source and buy the entire video.

In order to get surfers to the site, it had to be promoted. There were various ways to achieve this goal. One was to create "galleries" - one page promos that had a small amount of content from the site. These galleries were then submitted to the TGPs such as "The Hun" and "Al4a", World Sex, Snakes World, etc. There were hundreds of TGPs out there. Another way to generate traffic was to buy it from someone. As surfers clicked their way around the web, they could be redirected by various techniques. For instance, once they went to a particular site, viewed it, and then hit the back button to exit, they could then be directed to another target site. Or they could be directed to a loop of many different sites. Once they clicked to exit one, they were directed to another, sometimes ad infinitum. That was called "a circle jerk". The circle jerk was, of course, infinitely irritating, and sites actually started advertising that they were pop-up free sites. Still another method to acquire traffic was one form or another of e-mail spam. There were actually lists that a webmaster could buy into that included tens of millions of e-mail addresses. The return on spam for porn sites was notoriously low. It was not a profitable technique.

Other than the TGPs, the most effective way to get traffic to the site was to have other people do it for you. Untold numbers of people made their living promoting other people's websites. Because of the nature of the web, it was possible to track new sign-ups back to their source and identify who sent them to you. You would then split the membership fee (percentages varied) with the person who sent you the new member. A site like Fucking Machines might have a hundred other freelancers promoting them. Therefore, you had to have what was called a "webmaster program" This was the tracking software and the database that allowed you to see how many new members a webmaster had sent you and to calculate, on a monthly basis, the amount of money you had to send to that person.

The creation of Just Sluts allowed Rob to put together what was basically a template for future sites.

As I began to help him create graphics and galleries and trailers for Just Sluts and other sites that he promoted, I was once again astounded at the number of people involved in the business. During this period I was watching Fox news, and Bill Reilly announced that the porn industry was bigger the big car companies combined. I didn't doubt it. What I found bizarre was that, although it was one of the largest industries in the world, it was still humankind's biggest secret. It was like an elephant in the hall closet. It was a joke.

Another surprising turn of events was that I suddenly found people treating me differently. From old friends to my girlfriend, I could see that people were not pleased with my career change. Up to this point, I imagine that I was considered a pretty upright citizen of the town. I remodeled the old houses and businesses. I was a Captain on the Fire Department and President of its Auxiliary. I was raising my son(who had just graduated from high school). I had been with the same woman for over eight years without ever straying. I was the editor of the Town's online newspaper. I had avoided all scandal, violence, and legal difficulties. However, porn still carried a stigma. It was obvious from peoples' veiled reactions that they thought I had taken a step in the wrong direction. My social standing slipped dramatically with most people who found out what I was doing. I thought to defend myself by telling them that I was getting involved in the business in order to conduct the research for this book, and thus legitimizing my efforts, but then I realized that to do so would dilute the experience. I decided to take the blows as they came.

I began to wonder if my position in town had reached its peak when, on July 4th 2003, I climbed the town flagpole to restring the cable that some vandals had cut so we could fly the American flag on the nation's holiday.



Fall - 2003

It was then that we really got down to business.

Just Sluts was up and running, new members signing up every day. Rob was promoting various other sites from Fucking Machines to Monster Cock Project. We were constantly updating the site, adding feeds from different companies. I had put together a spin-off site which allowed me to explore and learn industry standard software such as Final Cut Pro 4 and Adobe Photoshop 7. After having surfed, who knows, hundreds? thousands? of adult sites, I was looking to bring something new not only to the content side but the graphic side of the business. I could see other people experimenting with different layouts and formats, trying to find the magic elixir of elements that would get the world-weary, jaded surfer excited and curious enough to continue his or her journey deeper into one's pay site.

I know Darin wanted the whole story, but, Christ, it's complicated. So I skipped over some parts . . .

---

"Yeah, so Vegas was fun. Anyway, we come back and work through the spring and summer putting Just Sluts together and getting our chops down. A big part of the biz is going to these conventions and networking. It's a lot of hard work."

"Yeah, right, Buzzard lips! Hot and hard! Show me something."

In September we go a party/convention up on Sunset in LA. The party took over two of the most hottest clubs on the strip - The Rainbow and The Roxy - simultaneously. It was a trip too , because I had lived across the street during the late eighties, so it was a little like old home week.

The kicker for me was a trip we made to the new Hustler store across the street from the bars. A year and a half before this, Rob and Anna had been hired to do an x-rated shoot for this photographer in San Francisco. Just before we left for LA, he got a phone call from the photographer telling him that the pictures were being published in that month's edition of Hustler's magazine "Taboo". For some reason, the whole concept of appearing in the magazine wound him up. "I'm published", was all he could say, over and over. "I'm published". With a certain dazed wonderment in his eyes.

When we finally got to the Hustler store on Friday afternoon, Rob heads right for the magazine rack in the back. I was more amused by the fact that the store was even there. I used to eat at a small affordable Italian restaurant on that very spot called CafeLA. Now it was x-rated LA. A supermarket of sexual shit. Clothes, dildos, books, lotions, bondage gear, vibrators, cock rings, inflatable dolls. The placed was packed. Sex had gone mainstream. It was lit up like a sex Walmart. It was right on Sunset Blvd with huge plate glass windows, exposing itself to the traffic driving by. It was in your face! People strolled leisurely through the aisles, shopping, pushing designer baby buggies. Dude, you got to see it to believe it.

Anyway, I catch up with Rob just as he gets to the back to the magazine racks. I watch him as he scans the hundreds of magazines offering every kind of sex imaginable. Hetero, bi-sexual, homosexual, anal, facials, fisting, bondage, group sex, amateur sex, public sex, romantic sex, rough sex, drunken sex, solitary sex, sex with machines, sex in cars, sex in planes, sex on boats, mature sex, shaved sex, hairy sex, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. . . . . . . ."

The look of joy, pride, satisfaction, anticipation, and child-like excitement when he finally finds the October 2003 edition of Taboo was priceless. A kid looking under the tree on Christmas morning couldn't have been happier. As he reached for the magazine, I was watching a man who had achieved a secret, never to be dreamt possible goal. It was a breakthrough moment. He grabbed three issues and rushed to the cashier who he tried to convince to give him a break on the price because he was in the magazine.

Darin laughs. "I can see him!" Hands in the air. "Trying to work the cashier! Yeah. Givin her the Rob spiel. Massagin her. He's too much!"

"Yeah, I finally put some of that stuff in the website I was building around his adventures. Check it out."

He can't stop laughing as he scrolls through the photos. "Buzz, this is fucked up. Wow, look at her taking it! Missy's all about it."

The party that night turned into a drunken bash that left us staggering around Sunset at three in the morning eating greasy pizza and getting lost in the Bel Age looking for a party that turned out to be a mile away at the Marquis. It all reminded me why I had left LA. The town is a smog filled shithole of crazed ambition junkies looking for a fame fix."

"Easy, big guy," he hands me another beer and growls, "You'll get your blood pressure up."

"Oh, did I say that out loud?"

"Anyway, so its a month later it was Phoenix. One of the bigger players in town, Lightspeedcash, threw a party for its top ten moneymaking webmasters at one of the just unwrapped megamalls in the sprawling north side. They had rented a large hospitality suite at (Pink's?) which was part bar, part video game arcade, and part carnival side show. They fed us, gave us drink tickets and game tickets. It was at this point that I really began to take a look at just who made up this particular branch of the internet porn world. As I strolled through the arcade games with Tammy, I stopped and looked around. THEY THREW THE PARTY AT AN ARCADE. I looked around and it dawned on me. Most of the webmasters were young computer geeks. Most were in their twenties. They had goatees. They wore their baseball caps backwards. They wore baggy shorts that came to mid-calf. Rob, at 38, was the old man of the group. At 57, I was ancient. I remember this kid in LA saying, 'You know, it's alright, somebody your age being in the business. Hah!' After the arcade, the party moved to some suites that the company had rented at the Camelback Inn. Like LA, it turned into a drunken slop fest. The interesting thing I noticed about these drunken brawls was that an amazing amount of business managed to get done. It was like action at a singles bar. People showed up, not really knowing each other, proceeded to get hammered, got all loosey-goosey, started talking to each other, and eventually paired off into a corner where some intimate business went down.

Later that night, Steve, the Lightspeed guy, introduced his top webmasters to the Lightspeed girls. Here look."



Darin looked at me then. I could see that it was finally hitting him that there were guys out there living a life that most guys just dream about. It was dawning on him that it wasn't just a dream - it was a reality.

"Fuck you, Terry. Fuck you." He said it affectionately, of course. Well, at least half affectionately.

It this point, however, I was just an observer. I wasn't really living the life. Tammy and I were together, so there was no fucking around on my part. He didn't know that, of course. He assumed what most guys did that if they were me they'd be diving head first into that pile of blondes.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking about the book. I'm in the middle of researching this fascinating sociological phenomenon. I'm all the way in the middle of the business. All the way on the inside. Being on the inside I began to realize how new this all was. After all, the internet porn industry really just got rolling around the turn of the century. At each convention we attended, a certain core group of people were getting to know each other better and better. I saw it evolving right in front of my eyes. Rob was one of the main catalysts for this growing interaction. Friendly, outgoing, generous, and always ready to push the party envelope just a little farther than the next guy - he was "RAM". People looked to him to start things up and push them to the next level, which he was only too happy to do. He was the "go-to" guy.



If you really want to take a tour of all the conventions check out this site.

"Where the hell was I was I? I'm all wassabama."

"Something about Phoenix and the blondes, Nawaha . . . "

"Oh yeah, so that was over and in November, we were back to LA. This time the affair takes place at the Doubletree Inn in Santa Monica, four blocks from the beach. Lensman was the main host of the event. There were cocktail parties, large business seminars, late night parties at hip Santa Monica clubs like Zanzibar, dinners, and, of course, lots of sex in the suites rented on the upper floors.

Here's Rob streaking the seminar. They'll never invite this group back to the Doubletree.



And here's Lensman


Lensman and friend

So I get in touch with an old friend of mine who still lived in LA and had gone on to become really big as a celebrity photographer in Hollywood. He had a company called Film Magic. He was eager to take us to a new club in town where he was part owner. It turns out to be The Forty Deuce a hip, updated version of the old burlesque clubs. usatoday article on the Forty Deuce Yeah, they did that reality show on cable about them expanding into Vegas. The club was hot, but it wasn't till we got back to the hotel that things went off the hook. Before we went to the club, my friend had taken us to his studio not far from the hotel and smoked us out with the top of the line weed that he called Jack Herrer. He also pulled out some clinically pure ecstasy. Rob bought a gram immediately and started joshing the molly. This ecstasy was in powdered form. The technique is to wet the tip of your finger, dip it in the pile of powder, and lick the finger clean. Which Rob did. Knowing the effects of the drug, and being at the convention without Tammy, I didn't do any. I didn't want to be tempted anymore than I already was. You know X - suddenly you're in love and lust with everyone.

At any rate, Rob had nothing holding him back, so he proceeded to get super high. When we got back to the hotel, the action had moved to the upstairs suites. People were drinking, getting high, milling around from one room to another, carousing, and starting to piss off hotel security. At a certain point in evenings like this things tend to become a blur. The next thing I knew we were in one of the rooms on the sixth floor. Rob had corralled a girl who had a website called Creamy Cherries on our way up in the elevator. Suddenly, Cole, from Lightspeed, was sticking a video camera in my hand while he worked the still camera. Rob and Creamy Cherries proceeded to strip and go at it like crazed monkeys. People walked casually in and out of the bedroom as like they were window shopping for the room with the best entertainment. It dawned on me that this particular convention was just a warm up for the one coming up in Vegas at the beginning of January. As this realization came to me, Rob came on Creamie's 38 dd breasts."

Darin's smoking, he's hacking, he's shaking his head. "Buzz, you're killin me with this shit!"

"Yeah, and it just doesn't stop. Want to take a break?"

"Fuck no. Bring it."

Believe me, I feel your pain. Imagine being in the middle of all this and not being able to take a taste."

"I hear you. Fuck. How do you do it?"

I shrug.

"Fuck me running, Buzz. Okay, okay dish it up! I'm ready! Here." He passes me a roach and another Corona.

Yeaaah . . . . sooo . . . . anyway . . . The next morning at breakfast we run into Lauryn (pronounced Lor-rin' with the accent on the second syllable). She's a 30 year old ex model. Tall, pretty, thick light brown hair, and a body as tight as a Marine's top bedsheet. She was working for Lensman and was supposed to be out at the sign up desk, registering people for the afternoon seminars. Instead, she was downing triple shots of tequila at nine in the morning. She was the kind of physical specimen that attracted attention wherever she went. We were sitting in the main breakfast dining room in a booth with her and some dude named Shooter who had just got back from the Czech Republic where he had been shooting porn with Czech chicks. Czech chicks were the latest craze on the net. After the second triple we talked Loryn into pulling her top down so I could take a photo with Shooter's cell phone. Shooter and Rob sat on either side of her while she flopped out her $5,000 very well done tits. Everyone was smiling. Some older folks across the way were not smiling.

"Nice rack." "Yeah"


On our way out of the restaurant, we ran into a girl who called herself Angel Eyes. She was another looker. Not as statuesque as Loryn, but darker, smokier. She was in a funk, because the previous evening she had her purse ripped off at the Zanzibar. She had lost everything. Money, i.d.s, credit cards, personal effects, the whole shooting match. She couldn't even catch her plane out that day, because she had no i.d. We all sympathized with her plight and coaxed her into coming up to our room with us. She was also in a funk because some guy named Brad Shaw had called her a crack whore on GFY.

GFY is short for Go Fuck Yourself which was, at the time, one of the most popular message posts in the internet porn industry. Angel was pissed at Shaw and wanted to post a worthy response. We had brought our Mac G4 laptop and were hooked up to the hotel's dsl connection and offered to let Angel reply to Shaw's nasty comment. As the girls discussed the appropriate response, they cracked open the wet bar and started downing the small hotel bottles of tequila and vodka like they were free. The next thing we knew they were showing each other their tits as they sat on my bed.


Loryn and Rob

Rob, sensing an opportunity, coaxed Loryn back into his room where they disappeared for a half an hour. While they were gone I listened to Angel tell me about how she was not a crack whore as I surfed the channels on the hotel's cable hookup. When Rob and Loryn came back out they joyfully told us about how, for the first time in her life, Loryn was finally able to practice deep throating a cock. Apparently, when they got back to Rob's room, the conversation careened into sex with a bang and a crash. Loryn told Rob how she had always wanted to learn how to deep throat. Rob, of course, volunteered to let her practice on him. Which she proceeded to do in a half of a dozen different positions. It was all very illuminating when they came out of the bedroom and told us in detail how it went. Angel and Loryn then decided to show each other their pussies, both of which were shaved as smooth and clean as baby bottoms.

They started talking about how much they had in common, and the fact that they had adjoining rooms, and how they were best friends (all of a sudden), and how beautiful the other one was, and how they had so much in common, and how they were going to take a photo of Loryn fondling Angel's breasts and post it on GFY and tell Brad Shaw to blow them, and how they had so much in common, and how they had adjoining rooms. Now, Rob, of course, was having visions at this point and started to encourage the girls to take him back to their adjoining rooms. Rob was having visions because he was a red blooded American boy and because he had been joshing the molly all night and was still higher than next year's prices. Full of hope and desire they headed for the girls' adjoining rooms. As fate would have it, Rob was not able to close that particular deal, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

I slept through most of the rest of that afternoon and through the night while the party raged on around me from floor to floor from room to room. The next morning we had breakfast downstairs, went to the airport and flew home nursing ragged sidewinding chemical hangovers. Vegas was only forty days away."

---

When we got back to Jerome, I starting putting together the sight all about Rob's adventures. I realized that he was building a respectable amount of content all on his own. He had done shoots in San Francisco for fuckingmachines, whipped ass and wired pussy. He and Anna had also done that still shoot for Taboo magazine. All those combined with off the wall, afterhours shoots at various conventions added up to enough material to actually start the site. I dubbed it The Porn Insider!? It would be the first reality/comedy/insider site in the business. It was a no brainer. The whole world wanted to know what went on in this business. I decided to show them.

---

Winter 2004

"You remember that Christmas and New Years."

"Yeaaah! After hours at Rob's on New Years. Holy shit, that was gnarly. Beer, that fucking red bull and vodka, tequila, weed, speed, oxycotin, and whatever else I can't remember. That was one fucking good buzz. The hangover was hell, but then again, what the fuck is New Years for."

"So, three days later, still nursing an aching head, we drove to Vegas. That was the one that Jess and Tim came along for. Tim was all about it. Jess was going, well it's not really my scene and all that. Fortunately, the drive from Jerome to Vegas only took four and a half hours.

You know, I used to hate Vegas. It had nothing for me. I wasn't a big gambler, especially when the odds were so obviously skewed to the house. I wasn't a big Wayne Newton fan. And I never understood the city's attempt in the recent past to advertise Vegas as a wholesome place for a family vacation. That always seemed to me like a dirty old man offering candy to some wide eyed little child. Or like the wolf putting on grandma's nightie. Whatever . . .

But I have to say, when the porn convention comes to Vegas, a person can have some fun."

That got a laugh out of him and he slugged me in the arm. It would leave a bruise.

"We arrived on a Sunday afternoon and checked into the new tower at the Venetian.




We had reserved a two bedroom suite and it was brand, just took the wrapper off, new. Beautiful, luxurious, comfortable.




The rest of the afternoon was a blur with everyone getting checked in, grabbing something to eat, and starting to drink. GFY was hosting a warmup party off-site. They hadn't told anyone where it was taking place, so come around nine o:clock there was a certain amount of chaos outside the front door of the Venetian as people were trying to figure it all out. I stepped out into the series of traffic lanes under the entry canopy and started hunting it down. I found a guy who had bleached his hair in tiger stripes who said he knew where the party was. Between us we commandeered a limo, I grabbed the rest of our party (by this time we had hooked up with Rob who had come the day before) and we were off to the races.




Lensman had rented this huge swingers' club, complete with seven bedrooms, swimming pool, jacuzzi, bar, dance floor, pool table, showers, and various strange sexual contraptions. After taking a tour of the place the mind tended to recoil somewhat. You had to think to yourself that no matter how much bleach they used on the bedding there was no way you were going there. And neither was anyone else. Although it was a party of porn professionals, no one used those bedrooms all night. The place did make for a killer party pad. The booze was free, the music was hot, and eventually the girls loosened up and put on a show. In the end, the star of the show, Kayla, had to call in Rob to give the proceedings a proper climax, which of course he was only too happy to do.





It was a great party. Everyone had a good time. Later I thanked Kayla for sharing.



"Look at you, pornmeister! Hah!"

"Yeah, that's pretty funny. Check out the hand, though. It's not mine."

"Oh, yeah, huh? Still, though . . . "

"Yeah, I know . . ."

"So, the next night it was all about the suite parties. Every company that attended the convention had rented one or more suites in the hotel. Some had rented what were called hospitality suites on the third floor. These were dedicated solely for throwing parties and people in the industry knew how to throw a party. The first hospitality suite we stumbled into that night had arranged for their male guests to receive free blow jobs from some of the girls who really enjoyed sucking dick. One of our favorites happened to be there. Her name was Venus. That's her on the bottom.



Every hospitality suite on the third floor had some kind of party going on. Free booze, free dope, free sex. And in the midst of it all, an amazing amount of business being done. Deals for traffic, models being hired, links being traded, shoots being set up, partnerships being created, cameramen and graphic artists being contracted, travel plans being finalized - Cancun, Budapest, Prague, Costa Rica, Thailand, Montreal, Vancouver, LA, the Caribbean, Hawaii - you name it. From suite to suite, we careened and lurched down the hallways. From one party to the next. It went on all night. Many fell by the wayside, but those who happened to run into some speed, or some x, or drank a lot of red bull and grey goose, or who were just wired on the whole event took the ride into morning and breakfast at the Grande Luxe which was like a European cafe complete with outdoor patio that looked out upon the roaring casino floor which never shut down. From the patio you watched a constant parade of people going to and from the elevators to the upper floors where five parties were ending and six more were starting up. It all went on all week and culminated that weekend at the AVN award show and after parties. The AVN show is, of course, the Oscars of porn. It is the peak of peaks.

Tammy and I and Tim and Jess had to get back to Jerome on Wednesday. Everybody had to get back to work. At this point, I decided to start work on the site that I had wanted to do from the beginning. My original concept had incorporated two different themes. The first was to take our members on an insider's tour of the world of porn. The second was to explore and celebrate the female sexual experience. It was obvious now that those two different ideas should really be two different sites. I had already created the template for the idea of the "tour" with The Porn Insider!?. So, while Rob was still in Vegas, I got to work trying to create the "look" of the second site. The idea was to create something that captured the beauty, excitement, and mystique of the feminine eros. I wanted the look to be both raw and sophisticated. I started experimenting with the look of the site, and we bought the url The Fantasy Site

He's growling now. "Feminine Eros? What are you? The fucking Professor Goodfeel?"

"Hey, I'm telling you. C'mon! There's nothing hotter than a chick in full sexual intoxication. You gotta admit."



"Yeah, well, I guess . . . Damn, look at these hotties!"

"The way I figured it, the potential audience was huge. Guys would dig it. Girls would dig it. Couples could watch it. Seemed like a no brainer to me . . . Where was I?

Oh, yeah . . . Rob stayed for the AVNs. When he got back to Jerome he told me what I missed. On one of the nights leading up to the awards he found himself in one of the hospitality suites talking to a woman from extremehole.com who had breasts as big as basketballs whose name was Reanne. She says if you want to see something really different go across the hall. Little did he know that the party across the hall was being thrown by some folks into bondage. Seems as if there was also a bondage convention going on in Vegas that week that the regulars called BonCon. At any rate, he walks in and sees Tara Emory, a well known shemale from shemalestrokers.com lying on a king sized bed dressed all in black leather. A naked fat chick walks in and starts giving her/him head. Another guy walks in and starts spanking the fat chick really hard - raising welts. Lying next to the shemale is a really good looking chick who is getting spanked by Dan Handsome. Dan turns the good looking chick over onto her back and starts fisting her up to his wrist and starts slapping her thighs. Then a petite, thin, asian woman walks in and sits on the good looking girl's face while she's getting fisted. The asian chick faces the guy, grabs the other chick's ankles, holds her legs way up in the air, spreading them as far apart as she can get them while the guy is fisting away and the girl under her is eating her pussy and says, "This girl's got skills."

"Wait . . . Stop . . . Here, smoke this. You're wearin me out. Let's do a little of this."

He pulls the big bottle of the Orendain Almendrado off the top of the fridge, spins the cap off, and hands it to me. I let the top of the open bottle drift by my nose and let the scent of a warm tropical beach fill my head. So sweet. I take a small sip and swirl it around my mouth like it was the finest wine. It's better than the finest wine. One sip makes you smile. It never fails. I pass the bottle back over to him and take another swig off the Corona.

"When Rob got back from Vegas, we started to fill out our grand plan. We decided to kick off both the Porn Insider and The Fantasy Site by going global. We were planning a trip that would start in Costa Rica, where a friend and potential investor had already been and had all the contacts we would need, and then go to Budapest, where another group was already shooting and waiting for us to arrive. We got our passports. We bought a top of the line Sony video camera. We bought a nice tight portable light package. We were ready.

That was when Mr. Mumbleton stumbled into town with his unhinged tongue and scattered speech. Porn's dark side twittered into the scene in the form of a dizzy blonde. As soon as he's back from Vegas, a group from Phoenix calls. They need a stunt cock for Cum On Her Face. "RAM" responded with his spurting member and three days later was followed home by trouble, with the stage name of Nikki, sucking on a glass pipe. She liked to be tied up. Dominated. Rushing on speed.

Ever since Rob and I had met, he had wanted me to work with him. He was always bugging. I had held off for the obvious reasons. When I got tired enough of pounding nails and realized that there was the potential of writing a book about the porn industry, from deep on the inside, I finally joined in. I had watched him long enough to believe that, above all else, his highest priority in life was making money. He was a businessman. A capitalist. An entrepreneur - down to the depths of his soul. However, I knew that he had two basic weaknesses. The first was that he always tended to indulge in whatever booze or dope the latest chick did. The second was that he tended to binge occasionally and heavily on whatever was handy. Booze, pills, weed, blow, mushrooms, acid, x, speed - it almost didn't matter. Christ, you've seen him."

"Yeah, that guy is a fucking monster. You can't stop him."

"Yeah, well that was great for all the boys in town when he was holding court at the house, but it was hell on business. When he did binge for days at a time, he was useless. Up to this point, these two weaknesses had not seriously affected our efforts, but I had told him more than once that if we were to really succeed, he was going to have to get these appetites under some kind of control.

Did I say that the blonde was a tweaker? Someone who would start off the day by hitting the glass pipe? And then hit it all day and night? And that Rob tended to do what his girl did? Well . . . our entire situation imploded as he started sucking on the pipe. I begged, reasoned, pleaded, cajoled, screamed and then begged and screamed and pleaded and reasoned. And then did it all some more. But, you know. It didn't matter. It never does. When someone goes to the pipe, the pipe is the only thing that matters. You've seen it.

"Yeah, I saw him around town then. All skinny. Sweaty. Babbling. Thinking he had it all together. He caught me one day at PJs. He couldn't focus more than two seconds on anything. Kept saying, it's all happening . . it's all happening . . . it's all happening - like a fucking warped cd."

"Exactly. Anyway, his brain scrambled to the point that he became a mumbling zombie. The usual. When he did get to the office, he would sit in front of the computer and drift mindlessly from site to site, talking incoherently to himself, words spilling from his lips like random picks out of the porn dictionary. It was pathetic. I saw all of our plans circling down the crapper.

Realizing that there was nothing more that I could do, and that to continue supporting the business only enabled him to keep smoking, I quit. At this point, all communication broke down between us. There is no talking to a speed freak. Now I watched from a distance.

Within a few weeks, Rob and the blonde became each other's nightmare and split up. Rob kicked her out of the house in some mad screaming episode where he threw all of her possessions out into the street. But by now he was so strung out, that even getting rid of the girl didn't help. He was truly heading toward the "wall" So, you've seen how it goes. It's at this point that they sacrifice everything for their pipe. They lose their jobs, they lose their families, they lose their friends, they lose all social standing and become anorexic, hollow-eyed, babbling, losers just looking for the next rock or little bag of white powder. Somehow, with some last bit of sense, Rob realized that if he stayed in Jerome, he would become one of those losers. Instead, he managed to work out a deal with Lensman to go over to Budapest and shoot some content with the beautiful eastern European models that were becoming a big attraction in the industry. As I said, there was already a scene set up and waiting for him. A couple of Americans were already there, shooting. One of them was, in fact, Shooter, the guy we had met back at the convention in Santa Monica at the Double Tree Inn. He and his partners had moved their operation from the Czech Republic to Budapest, had rented spaces to live and work, and had models lined up down the block. So, all Rob had to do was get there.

He managed to get tickets and get himself on a plane. When I heard what he had done, I said a little prayer for him. It meant that he was going to quit speed cold turkey. The come down from the kind of speed run that he had been on is just as bad if not worse than the come down off of smack. It's brutal and painful. To combine that come down with a fourteen to sixteen hour flight around the globe is to invite that kind of pain most people have never experienced. I couldn't imagine what kind of shape he was going to be in when he landed, for the first time in his life, in a foreign country, crashing hard from methadrine and being hammered with jet lag. I didn't envy him. But on the other hand it was exactly the kind of make or break experience that he needed.

Months passed . . . . .

Finally, he e-mails me. He was sober. He was apologizing. He sounded clear. He sounded reasonable. He was working. If you call it work. Getting paid a grand a week to make love to some of the most beautiful young chicks on the planet. Traveling around Europe. Filming content for his own projects. Working out. Getting his health back. Loving Budapest. Putting a bid in on a flat. It must have been tough.



Winter 2004/05

Then like a wanderer white with dew, he came home for Christmas. By this time I had moved on to creating straight websites and was trying to establish a stable of new and ongoing clients. It had been going pretty well and was paying the bills, but it lacked the sizzle of the porn world. Rob had come back to arrange his finances so that he could pay off the flat in Budapest and go to the annual convention in Vegas. Tammy and I decided to tag along just for fun.

And fun it was. This year it was all happening at Mandalay Bay.

The second night we were there, Rob was scheduled to do a live sex show with a girl named Jordan. Lensman had rented the same private club that we had gone to last year, on the outskirts of Vegas. As we rode in his private bus to the party, it was obvious that long tall Jordan was having second thoughts about the whole affair talking about how she didn't want to be touched by the crowd and she didn't want that and she didn't want this. It looked like she was backing out.

When we got to the club, the crew was setting up lights in various locations and the liquor starting flowing free. The favored drink of the day was Red Bull and vodka. You could get super hammered but still be lucid enough to drive. Combine that with a nice fatty and you were off and running. It took a while for the place to fill up and the action to get going, but it got going real good. Tammy was hanging out with longer and taller Annie from Montreal who we had met last year at the convention.



It turned out that Jordan did back out but she was replaced by five other girls who didn't. Rob performed like a champ in spite of the crowd and the lights and the cameras and the booze and what have you. He managed to fuck all the chicks as they fucked each other. It was a mob pleaser. You can find it at Hard Core Partying

He kept saying, "Look what I have to put up with."



"Look at em all smilin . . . fucking Rob . . . I hate him, Buzz . . . that's just not right . . . "

"Yeah, I know. You know, Vegas itself is one thing. But Vegas during the porn convention . . . it is THE wet dream. It's Vegas to the nth power. It's Vegas on steroids. Gambling, drugs, booze, luxury, steaming hot women, steaming hot sex - everywhere you turn. That's Jenna Jameson below with Jennifer who runs Wired Pussy. Jenna had just died her hair dark.



"Shit . . . I got an old tape of little missy when she was probably just eighteen. God was she HOT! First time I ever saw a chick drip cum in another chick's mouth . . ."

"Snowballin . . "

"Huh . ."

"That's what they called it then."

"Yeah . . . Rob ever do her?"

"Nah . . . not yet.

So, anyway . . . After Vegas we all come back and the two guys from Hungary come with us."

"Yeah, Martin and what's the other guy?"

"Gabor"

"Yeah," he laughs, "He was a character. Gabby . . . he was cool . . . always giving that Bozmek shtick. 'The states, my dream, I like, Bozmek It's nice It's nice' all with that crazy accent."

"I don't know if you ever got the drift, but Martin was the money man/producer and Gabby was the cameraman. I guess he actually did national news over in Budapest. "

When they split to go back, Rob leaves me this dvd with four twenty minutes scenes. It was stuff that he shot for himself.

"He asked me to chop them up and get them web ready and to pull the fifty stills from each scene like we did on Just Sluts. At the same time I built a new page for the Insider with some of this new stuff. Every chick was hot. Just killer.

"Check it out."

I pulled a couple of clips up on the laptop. He watched the hot brunette pull Rob's cock out of her girlfriend's ass and start sucking on it.

            

He howls like a beast. And then howls again. He's hungry for the same. It makes him ache deep down. He wants some.

"That motherfucker! Look at Missy work!

"Yeah so and then . . . he got back that August, you know - sober, thinking, letting it sink in. You saw what a fucking joke it was. Publicly he was treated like a pariah.

"Pariah?" He's playing the clip over and over and over and over and over . . .

"You know, bad news, outcast. But privately - well, you saw - it was like he was some kind of movie star or celebrity - the town's own Paris Hilton. You know Andrew? The next door neighbor?

"Duh . . "

"So what's he? Twenty-five? Twenty-eight?"

He shrugs.

"Anyway, Ando's mother calls Rob and tells him what a fan she was. She had seen his "work" and she thought he was hot. Andrew's fucking mother!!

He exploded in the motor choking laughter of the outsider who has seen the hypocrisy his whole life and is not surprised but delighted that it is revealed for all to see. Takes his eyes off the screen for a second and looks at me - surprised after all . . .

"His mom??!!"

I just nod. He goes back to watching the clips, talking at the same time.

"You know, I saw that! The chicks wanted him. The guys wanted to be him! But it was all in their heads! They had this idea . . . about who he was . . . but it was still just Rob." His eyes go back to the screen. "What a fucking trip! You white people are crazy."

"Yeah, meanwhile, I'm putting him back on the plane to Budapest so he can get back to 'work'. It was EuroBrides. It was Hard Core Partying. It was the new, revised Just Sluts.

By that time it was starting to get to me. That was when I had just been promoted to Chief of the Fire Department. It was my obligation and responsibility to take care of the town, its citizens, its infrastructure of a town of 15,00 people, its one million visitors a year, and it's four hundred square miles of mountainous terrain and state highways. We had the killer team so I wasn't worried, but I had to keep my thing with Rob on the DL. Sometimes it made my head spin."



Summer 2006

The fall and winter of 05 and 06 went by quietly enough. I was busy getting my feet under me as Chief and Rob was working steady in Europe. I finally proposed to Tammy and we set the wedding date for June 10. Rob came back in March for the bachelor party and wedding. There also happened to be another convention. This time in Tempe. Right around the corner. Naturally, we decided to go. Especially since we had missed the Vegas show in January.

Now, interestingly enough, as fate would have it, at the time Tammy was realizing her love of other girls. And beautiful Katie was realizing her love for Tammy. It was a miraculous thing.



The girls decided they both wanted to go to the convention. Katie had a fascination for the Porn World and wanted to get a closer look at what went on. So we booked a room and headed for the party. Rob was sharing a suite with some friends of his, and he went down a day earlier.

When we arrived in Tempe, we realized that they were having their annual craft fair on Mill Avenue. It was a huge deal. Traffic was closed off to the entire downtown area. It just so happened that the hotel was right in the middle of all of it. There were people everywhere. It was a party within a party. It was good.

Now, here is where it gets weird. How strange is the world? The porn convention had taken over the entire hotel. You couldn't even get in the front door unless your name was on the list. As Tammy, and Katie, and I come walking up to the front door, who do you think is handling that particular security job?

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?!"

"Muma," I answer.

He looks at me as if I had suddenly changed subjects and was waiting for me to clarify.

"Muma, what?" he asks.

I grab him by the shoulders and shake him, laughing, knowing it's going to blow his mind.

"Muma, the Chief of Police of Jerome, is doing security at the fucking Porn Convention!!"

"Fuck you! You're full of shit!"

"I swear to god! I come walking up, and there's Muma. He starts to check the list, but he knows we're already on it. Christ, he called me a Porn King in Town Hall to Butcher months before this. And now, here he is. I was truly speechless. Here we are at a porn convention with the town's chief of police, the fire chief, and porn chief. The mind reels. Had he told any of the town fathers and mothers that he was going to be taking this job? The friends that Rob was sharing a suite with had stumbled onto the elevator the day before, stoned out of their gourds, stinking of bud, and looked up to see a big, muscled up guy with a gun and a Jerome Police Dept. t-shirt. They started babbling about how they liked Jerome and how the Fire Chief was coming down and all. Apparently, he was very friendly and cordial and they felt lucky to get out of the elevator without being busted. But I ask you, could things get much weirder?"

He's laughing like a gravel truck. Ackackack. He has laughed through the entire little story.

"That is FUCKED UP, DUDE!"

"No shit. But it was all cool. We found Rob and headed across the street to Hooters. A company called Just Blow Me had taken over the entire place and everything was FREE."

I pull up another link on the laptop.

"Look, this guy goes to all the conventions. Here's the party at Hooters."



"So, the party got off to a great start. Later that night WebCash and Epoch/Paycom took over the bar downstairs called the Library. They must have dropped a boatload of benjies. Anything you wanted, liquor wise, was free. You want Patrone? Go ahead. Get a triple."

I pull up another link to show him some shots from that party.

"Later that night, Tammy and Katie and I went back to our room. The girls were pretty buzzed, which, of course, was good for me."

"Buzz. Don't even start with this story. You and Tammy and Katie and they like each other?"

I nod.

"Don't tell me you got pictures of that too?"

I shake my head.

"Well, there's this. I think it tells the story in a subtle way."



"Yeah, that's as subtle as a blowtorch, Buzz. But, you know?, I'm a big fan of it. Big fan." He slaps me hard on the back. "Way to be. Way to be."

"The next day, everybody was hanging out by the pool, waiting for the dodgeball game, which, of course, led to more naked chicks. Rob decided that it was time for him to put on a dress. Don't ask. But here's a couple of shots.



"You know, I was thinking, when I first googled the word "sex" a couple of years back, I got 137,000,000 results. Let's check it out now."

So I pull up Google on the laptop and type in "sex".

"Oh my God," he rasps, "859,000,000!"

"Yeah, go figure. Like I said. It's a revolution. Anyway, so the rest of that summer was pretty quiet on my end. Rob on the other hand, gets more and more involved as "content". Content. That's what they like to call the performers. It's an ongoing in joke in the industry as to who is or who ain't content. During the Tempe show he makes connections to companies in Phoenix and LA. Let me see if I can remember the names . . . Oh yeah, there was Blow Job Races . . . and there was Naughty Bookworms and Ass Masterpiece and American Day Dreams and Upperclass Video. I mean the boy put in some hours balling all these different chicks. Check out this clip from Blowjob Races. Watch his face during the interview section when the off camera guy asks her why she got into porn and she says 'I just wanted to try it out. I love sex.' Fucking priceless."



He explodes, laughing. Tears run. He plays it again and again, laughing the whole time.

"Holy shit!" he says, winding down, "Oh, you got to know him to appreciate that look. That is fuckin funny!"

"So then on September fourth, he flew back to Budapest. He produced a series for Lensman called "Junior College Lesbians". Turns out that Playboy bought Lenman's scene to the tune of twenty million, so now Rob's working for Playboy."

"Really?"

"Yeah, that was a few months before Playboy bought out Jenna Jameson."

"So what now, buzzardlips?"

"Well, he's due any time now. Plane came into Phoenix about seven. We'll see what happens. Outside the skies had cleared and a large autumn full moon lit up the valley and the shadowy cliffs thirty miles away. The warm summer night, smelling of roses and sounding of crickets drifted over the porch and into the house. We sat, smoking, drinking, and letting the minutes pass. The few leftover clouds outside the open door and windows were dark, changing shapes outlined in moonlight. The soft warm night enfolded us in its quiet and calm, but it didn't last. In the distance we heard voices and footsteps approaching down the empty street . . .

Rob tromps up the stairs and into the house with Andrew who picked him up from the airport. Andrew is young and tall and lean and lanky with a buzzcut and John Lennon glasses. He's the guy who's Mom is a big fan. Everybody hugs, and yells, and screams, and cracks open more beer, and rolls more joints. Someone cranks up the music and Rob starts yelling over it about his adventures in Budapest,Romania, and the Czech Republic. He pulls out his laptop and starts showing us clips from things like Eurobride Tryouts and Right off the Boat.



Everyone's cracking up. What a lifestyle.

It turns out over the next few days that Rob has finally, really, become convinced that the concept of The Porn Insider is a winner. He has already arranged to continue working during this stay. He has shoots lined up in Phoenix and LA where he will be in front of the camera. The only impediment is his on and off girlfriend, Jennifer. His work has obviously been a problem for her. That's why the relationship has been on and off. He's torn in a big way, because: one, he has strong feelings for her, and two he knows that he is not going to stop what he's doing. I advise him to be honest with her which he finally does. Things are tense for a day or two, but she surprises both of us by telling him that she's going to stay with him - no matter what. We are both astounded because neither of us expected that reaction. I wonder to myself if her decision has come from a point of strength or weakness. I hope for both of them that it's the former. Only time will tell. Right now, she's my new hero.

The conflict between men and women on the issue of monogamy at this time and in this society is still a mess. Men need sexual variety. Women think they should be enough. Therefore, men cheat. Therefore, relationships and marriages fall apart. Women refuse to accept the reality of men's needs. They simply don't want to admit the obvious. Men, of course, share the blame. Most are not willing to give their mate the same freedom they crave. Insecurities on both parts create chaos. Do we ever resolve the issue?

Pardon the digression.

At any rate, we now had all the elements in place to forge ahead. First, Rob wanted to update The Porn Insider into the latest blog format that zillions of people were using. So we downloaded Word Press and got to work. Fortunately, he was working a lot so we had new content coming in two or three times a week. After a few weeks, we slowly started giving out the url: www.theporninsider.com.

At this point, I thought that we were on our way to creating something fresh, exploratory, and profitable. Unfortunately, I was wrong once again. After spending two months building the Insider and bringing it to a point where it was hot, funny, and informative, I told Rob that it was time that he starting dishing out enough cash for me to at least pay my bills. His response was that as people clicked on the various links to the various sites and joined those other programs that we would eventually start to see some cash. Right. On the come. As soon as he decided to make it into a non-paying blog its financially potential basically disappeared. He apparently didn't believe in the site to the point where he was going to spend any real money on it. Once again, I had to disabuse him of the notion that I could afford to spend my time and energy on some imaginary future money. Once again, we stopped working together.

In early September, he flew back to Budapest to finish the remodel on his flat and work with the hot Euro chicks that he loved. (He has a page on You Tube called Budapest1073 if you would like to get a glimpse of his lifestyle over there.) This time, Jennifer actually went with him. He hadn't told her that as soon as they got there he was going to be working on the European version of Bang Bus . Instead, of a beat up Volkswagen van, they would be using a nice BMW convertible. They planned on shooting the scenes in Brno in the Czech Republic. When they got on the plane, Jennifer still had no idea.

At this point, I had recently retired from my position as Fire Chief. I was hoping that my association with Rob would become a solid revenue stream, but, well, you know. Over the last few years I had been working on a book of my own. It was comprised of a series of short stories about the town of Jerome. I had written a story for every decade of the town's history. These stories were based on myths and legends that made up an oral history that had been passed down through the generations. They were stories not approved of or believed in by the "official" historians of the town. They were disreputable, unprovable, questionable. They were also exciting, intriguing, colorful. Sometimes romantic, sometimes comedic, sometimes dark and threatening. Sometimes ghostly.



I called the work, "Jerome Times" and created both an online version and a trade paperback that I began to sell around town and online at Amazon. I preferred the online version because I was able to include color and music in the storytelling. I loved the fact that in the story from 1920 called "Loaded Gun, for instance, I could include a recorded clip of a song by Mamie Smith. It added an element and a feeling to the story that no printed book could ever do. However, I seemed to be in the minority in this. Most people, it seemed at the time, did not like to read books online. They preferred the convenience of a book that they could take to the beach, read in bed, or in the toilet. I had the online version completed for a couple of years before I finally broke down and self-published the print version. What followed were months of promotion and distribution, trying to create publicity and buzz around the book.

So here I am, again, stopped in my tracks as far as this project is concerned. What seemed like an explosive commercial no-brainer has once again died on the vine. Back in the olden days of Southern California psycho-babble, there was a concept that people liked to throw around to explain failure. It was called "the fear of success". Sometimes I wonder if Rob is afflicted by this condition. He always talks about wanting to make a lot of money, but, in truth, he seems to really be content to maintain a certain level of affluence and not challenge himself to take the next risky(?) step. Both The Porn Insider and the Fantasy Site, in combination with this book, could generate huge amounts of money. I know he sees the potential, but is repeatedly reluctant to attempt to bring it all to fruition.

It has always seemed to me that this book's success was always predicated on an arc in the story line that culminated with the coinciding success of the two websites. A rags to riches fable. In the beginning, the story arc was so clear. It was a beautiful flowering into a multi-media, cross marketing, mass demographic empire finally exploding across thousands of movie screens around the world (or at least an x-rated cable series). The web sites, the book, the movie. It was all there just for the taking. However, I am at a point now where I have no idea what will happen, if anything at all.

Perhaps the book is done. It had a great beginning and middle, but no end - no third act. Perhaps it will evolve in some direction that I can't see at this time. I don't know. Stay tuned and, in the mean time, check out The Porn Insider.

It's a riot.

---

Winter 2008-09

What can I say? This project has died a thousand deaths but somehow keeps resurrecting itself.

On December 11 Rob flew back into town without Jennifer. She had returned a month earlier and moved out of his house. Turns out that she couldn't take it anymore. It also turns out that he couldn't take it anymore. In the end, their personality differences were just as distructive to their relationship as his career. Upon arrival, he immediately starting setting up work in Phoenix, LA, and Vegas. The usual routine. This time around, however, a new wrinkle was tossed into the mix.

The Playboy empire had been gobbling up x-rated content for the past few years. They had acquired the entire Jenna Jameson catalogue, for instance, and had started running her videos on their Satellit Television Channel. They also, had bought the entire Adult.com business. Adult.com was, of course, owned by our old buddy, Joe, otherwise known as Lensmen. This acquisition meant that they had also acquired all the content that Rob had produced, starred in, and directed for Joe over in Europe. This meant that "Eurobride Tryouts", "Right off the Boat", "Junior College Lesbians", and other titles were now the property of Playboy. So, starting around Christmas, they started showing some of the material on the Playboy Channel. They began with "Right Off The Boat V". Suddenly, there were close-ups of Rob's cock bigger than life (depending on the size of your flatscreen) flailing around like a spring loaded, out of control, bobble head doll. If TV screens were in 3-D it would have been scary. He, of course, was elated. Not only was he on the Playboy Channel, he additional received both a Star and Director's credit.

It struck me that, if Playboy actually aired all this content over the next few months, Rob's face and cock would become globally recognized phenomenons. He had already experienced being approached by strangers in Europe who recognized him from the internet - fans of "his work". I could only guess what this Playboy exposure would do.

At this point, we were just hanging out with no talk of working together. He knew that he would have to start dishing out the dough for that to happen. He had already started dropping hints about how if this went just right, and that guy came through on this deal, and yada yada yada - we'd be back in business. I'd heard that kind of talk before so I didn't pay any attention to it.

But, then again . . .

Meanwhile, and I love being able to use the phrase, he was getting more ass than a toilet seat. When he first got back in town he was complaining because there were no single hot chicks in town. He bemoaned the fact that the women in Budapest were so sexy and beautiful and stylish and open and erotic and etc. All he had to do if he got really horny over there was to make a phone call to his buddy Karim (another stud in the biz), who had women running in and out of his flat like it was a shoe store, or make another call to one of a thousand beautiful hookers who would come over to his place and service him for $50 to $75.

After a quick trip to LA to work for Naughty America where he ended up having a three way with his pharmacuitical, legal weed connection and his wife during which he experienced his first swinging couple double vaginal, and bringing back the chronic (Grape Ape, Cush, and Trainwreck)the flood gates seemed to open up. Never one to just site back and wait for things to happen, he started cruising local swinger scene on the net and quickly hooked up with a couple in Prescott Valley on the other side of the mountain. He called them at 10 pm one night and was having sex by 12. That included a 35 minute drive. Think about it a minute. He had never met the people. They sent a couple of emails back and forth. He drove over the hill and met them at a bar. They all decided that they got along and went right to the motel, stripped down, and went at it like weasles. He fucks the wife in front of her husband. Then she sucks his cock while the husband fucks her. Then they switch. Then they switch again. Everybody comes. Then they start over. Everbody comes. Then he drives back home and is in bed by 3:30. Think about it.

After that the local scene sprung loose. Jennifer had moved in with a friend of hers and had gotten all settled in. The next thing you know, he's over there fucking her. Then a beautiful black woman (singer/dancer) named Magdelena shows up and spends the night. Then Tank brings over a little bright lively cute 23 year old who has just moved to town, a stripper who calls herself Katy Kat. Within two days Rob is fucking her.

Then he gets a call from Naughty America to go to Vegas for some work during the AVNs. He works with Kacey Villainess. Meanwhile, he's fucking Jennifer on a pretty steady basis. She, of course, knows nothing about the other locals he's doing.

So, anyway, he stopped complaining.

What continued to fascinate me about the industry was the fact that it was exploring the nature of human sexuality, but no one was actually talking about it in those terms. The industry itself was loud, garish, and in your face, defiant in its presentation of explicit sexual activity, but I had yet to run into anyone who was aware of, or, at least, talking about the deeper issues involved. Female sexuality, especially, was evolving, or should I say awakening before our very eyes. An article in the NY Times in January of 2009 reported on the research being done into that very subject. (Click on the photo below to read.)




I found that the research coroborated many of my own personal findings. Underpinning it all was Freud's contention that humans are "polymorphously perverse". Basically, we are omnisexual. Society, however, according to Freud, cannot accept this inate condition and violently represses and vilifies any but the most conservative sexual behavior. And, up until this time, it has been successful in pushing anything but that conservative behavior out into the shadowy fringes. That dominance has now, with the advent of the internet, come to an abrupt end. The revolution is at hand, and as I have said before, the women are leading the way.

The conservative, mainstream line about the women who enter the world of porn as performers is that they are damaged goods. Some massive percent of them have been abused as little girls, the propaganda machine states, because it is obvious on the face of it that well adjusted, intelligent women would never pick such a degrading career. The reality is all together different. The women entering into the industry represent the entire cross section of our culture. There are those that are damaged, but no more than in any other sector of society. I saw more neurotic, screwed-up women in Hollywood in my years there than I ever did in the porn industry. No question.

As far as what you might consider mainstream, middle class women what I've seen is that repression itself is the real damaging factor. As Freud and Jung and, for that matter, the research referred to above, have shown us is that this societal repression actually creates a near schizophrenic condition as the instinctual urges and desires are stuffed down into the subconcious and not only hidden away from the conscious mind, but made to seem evil and dangerous.

But now comes the rebellion. Which becomes a self-reinforcing loop. The more women see other women opening themselves up sexually, the more women open up sexually. One of the most enlightening things they are discovering about their sexuality is that, as I said in the beginning, they like to be watched. It's another form of surrender and penetration. The eye and the camera penetrate and stimulate. It's another form of release, and through release, freedom, self-acceptance, and self-realization. What is happening culturally, mainly because of the internet porn industry, is a profound sexual paradigm shift. It is a monumental awakening. Some of the happiest women I know work in the porn industry.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Rob managed to attend Internext in Vegas in early January. He ran into a player who had started working the web2 sites like My Space and YouTube. The idea was to generate massive amounts of traffic to your pay sites. The player told Rob it was all about "piercing the social networking media". He apparently had been pulling in six figures a month for the last couple of years. When Rob got back to town he was fired up and wanted to duplicate this other fellow's success, so we put together a Youtube site called The Porn Insider



By March he and Jennifer had broken up for good? and he was getting ready to fly back to Budapest on April 12. On April 3rd he went down to the Phoenix Forum . More on that later . . .



As is fairly evident at this point I am only reporting from the sidelines. Sorry about that. My desire is to bring the reader into a deeper and more penetrating understanding and appreciation of all of this, but what can I do? Keep checking in. Maybe things will improve.