Kids Have It Way Too Easy When It Comes to Porn
In seventh grade, my friend Brian found his dad’s porn stash.
It was in the underwear drawer, a classic hiding spot for suburban fathers to keep their dog-eared fantasies. We breathlessly flipped through his dad’s three or four issues ofPlayboy—not knowing exactly what to “do” with the porn we had unearthed, we just looked at it, marveled and had to rearrange ourselves on account of our tiny boners. Then we heard a car door slam. Brian’s dad had come home early from work.
My friend hustled up the stairs to his parents’ bedroom, with me right behind carrying the precious contraband magazine we’d been poring over. (I remember Jenny McCarthy was on the cover.) As I bounded up the steps, I felt something seize my ankle—Brian’s dog had been spooked by our sudden frantic movements and lunged at what his stupid dog mind thought was a new intruder. As I fell back down the stairs, I frisbee’d the magazine to Brian, who avoided the fluttering pages and caught it by the spine. He placed the stash back in its proper place and stacked the underwear on top, just moments before his dad walked in. “What are you guys up to?” he asked.
“Nothing!” was the only appropriate reply.
I was in a mall bookstore’s magazine section, trying to be casual. This meant picking up an issue of Spin and flipping through it absentmindedly to give anyone watching the impression I was just another music-obsessed kid. In reality, my eyes were scanning the rack in front of me in search of a rare phenomenon. While most “adult” magazines were wrapped in cellophane—and are therefore impossible to secretly unwrap—every now and then some brave soul “stuck it to the Man” by ripping one open. That’s what I was after.
This Guy Shot a Porno on the Westboro Baptist Church’s Lawn
A week ago, Get Shot! was a relatively unknown punk band in Sacramento, but two days ago they released “Westboro Fingerbang,” a video of their bassist, Laura, masturbating on the front lawn of Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas. Since then, they’ve received over a thousand new facebook likes and literally become famous over night. I got in touch with the band’s lead singer, J.P. Hunter, to talk about why he made the movie and what’s next for Get Shot!
Why did you decide to shoot porn on the Westboro Baptist Church’s lawn?
J.P. Hunter: Everything in the book has been done to Westboro, but no one has actually filmed porn in front of their church. They’re used to going to other people’s sacred territory: gay soldiers funerals, other churches, Bon Jovi concerts, you name it. We’re trying to put a stance out that says, “Don’t be scared, you can fuck with these people.”
How did you make the video?
We tour. We went to Kansas City, Topeka, and Denver, and we planned the little Westboro stunt. We were supposed to have a porn star and some other chick do it, but the porn star’s agent called and said it violated her contract with her company, so she couldn’t do it, and the other girl didn’t want to get arrested. We didn’t want to leave Topeka empty handed, and our bass player Laura wanted to leave sticky fingered.
Stoya on HIV Transmission in Pornography
Last year, when the AIDS Healthcare Federation (AHF) poked their heads into pornography and started the initial push for Measure B, a rarely enforced law that requires condoms to be used in pornography produced in Los Angeles County, high-minded reformers like AHF president Michael Weinstein seemed to have an obvious misunderstanding of how porn works. Like Marie Antoinette’s debunked “Let them eat cake” quip, Weinstein’s “Make them wear condoms” solution to the potential spread of STIs in the business was misguided at best. Weinstein—who I like to imagine wearing an intricate ball gown and a towering wig—doesn’t understand the comparative rigor that professionally produced sex scenes entail. The risk of sexually transmitted infections can’t be neatly solved by a few pieces of latex, in pornography or out of it.
Last week’s news that an adult performer named Cameron Bay tested positive for HIV has brought concern over porn practices back to mainstream attention, but you know what no one is talking about? The heterosexual end of the adult industry has not had a single case of performer-to-performer HIV transmission since 2004. In the few cases since 2004 where an adult performer has tested positive for HIV, porn performers’ self-imposed screening process overseen by the Free Speech Coalition, a nonprofit trade organization, has worked. While incredibly frequent testing has not prevented the rare occasion when a performer has acquired HIV offset, it has successfully prevented them from continuing to perform in sex scenes for long enough to pass HIV on to other performers.
Stoya on How Porn Stars Avoid Getting Pregnant
A few months ago someone asked me how porn chicks avoid getting pregnant. I rolled my eyes and thought,Duh, the same ways all chicks avoid getting pregnant. My sarcastic response wasn’t worth the energy it would have taken to type into Twitter and send. A week or so later someone asked the same question at a Q&A panel during an adult convention called Exxxotica. Over the next couple of months, more people asked the same thing via Twitter and Tumblr. One of my co-workers, Kayden Kross, brought up the fact that she’d been receiving questions about birth control as well. Neither of us remembered pregnancy on porn sets being a subject of public curiosity in previous years. Maybe all the public discussion of Measure B (the condoms-in-porn law) sparked the interest. So, without the sarcasm, let’s talk about birth control.
I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure that you can’t get pregnant if you’re completely abstinent. There’s that whole Virgin Mary thing, but if I start factoring in acts of God, the topic gets too wacky to wrap my head around. I’m also pretty sure you can’t get pregnant if you stick to masturbation, are a woman who only has sex with women, or have sex in ways that completely avoid any vaginal contact with semen. However, if you are engaging in penis-in-vagina penetrative sex or moving hands back and forth between penises and vaginas, pregnancy is a risk that needs to be managed. This handy chart provided by the US Government can fill you in on the various types of available birth control.
Why I Love Watching Ron Jeremy Fuck
To witness Ron Jeremy have intercourse is to witness a grizzly bear eat a flamingo, or an orphan try to break into a vending machine. He is a manifestation of the grotesque male id, jamming fingers and genitals into every orifice at every opportunity, doing all of these things simultaneously, not making sense, not following some plan, just a man bludgeoning the human body with his sexual impulses. It is like watching a chimpanzee try to open the package of an Xbox controller.
You don’t masturbate to Ron Jeremy having sex, because using a Ron Jeremy scene to masturbate is like using a volcano to barbecue—it’s probably healthier to stand back and watch it have its way with the innocent. For Candy Stripers 2, a 1985 film about a hospital with ridiculous saxophone solos, and doctors pretending to look at pieces of paper, Jeremy won the AVN award for Best Supporting Actor. During an early scene, he’s sitting at a desk in his office while one of his nurses gives him a shoulder massage. They kiss and then he pulls away and scowls, as if he is disgusted with himself for being incapable of literally inhaling another human being. His breathing sounds like an 18-wheeler accelerating from a dead stop.
Women have always been the focus in pornography, with their exaggerated screams and contorted faces, because the male viewers who live vicariously through porn, eternally narcissistic and insecure, protective of their fragile egos, need the women to be Totally Loving That Cock. But Jeremy is central to his scenes. He is not, like most anonymous porn cocks, coolly detached or numb to the act; he is a strange loser, a figure we can relate to as he grunts and celebrates that he is having sex at all. There is no macho dehumanization; he calls women’s breasts “boobies” and their butts “tushies.” He says this to their faces, to the camera. He calls them “hunny” and puts a towel on the ground to protect their knees if they are going to give him a blowjob outdoors. He has a real, honest fascination with the female body. His eyes glaze over, bewildered, lustful, grateful that he is alive and this woman is alive and that he is allowed to touch her parts.
How to Quit Porn and Not Entirely Ruin Your Life
Hi, I’m Brian. Welcome to Tubesteak, a regular column where I talk about penises mostly and what I do with mine and what you should do with yours. There will also be some discussion of cocks, cocksuckers, cuckolds, and maybe, just maybe, a clitoris or two. But, honestly, mostly just dicks.
There I was, lying in bed ass-naked at 1 AM on a Tuesday night with my eyes closed pulling on my limp dick like a bird trying to get a worm out of the frozen ground. This is what jerking off had become for me: fiddling around with a mushy penis like I was searching for a prize at the bottom of a bowl of ramen. I never should have given up porn.
In a valiant effort to prove that my cock wasn’t indebted to images of manufactured sexual abandon, I had decided to give up pornography altogether to show that I could still beat off like a 15-year-old who just discovered what happens on Cinemax after midnight. But I couldn’t. It had been a week and I hadn’t gotten wood of any kind but the morning variety since.
Before going any further, I should mention that I probably have a more complicated relationship to porn than most people. I wish I could say it’s because I’m hot and hung enough to star in it, but I am neither. Like most horny uglies with small dicks and big opinions, I took to writing about porn, covering the industry and its gossip on Fleshbot for about four years. Watching people fuck had lost its magic for me—it was workand I was “doing research” nearly every day.
It’s not that I became desensitized to it. Oh no, I was still slapping my salami as often as possible, but I had only done it in the company of visual stimulation for as long as I could remember. In high school I had underwear catalogs (and, yes, Cinemax), and then, after getting a job in a bookstore, I purloined stroke mags that were supposed to be mailed back to the distributor. In college I graduated to VHS tapes before DVDs took over. Then, when the internet hit, I had every type of porn known to man just sitting there in my room, waiting for me to masturbate to it. The straw that broke the camel’s penis, however, was when keeping up with it became my professional obligation. My member was more dependent on seeing poles going into holes than I ever imagined.
Skinema delves into the dirty secrets of the dirty movie industry. Watch the premiere episode here.