Porn: From The Inside (Part 2)

http://www.andrewgonsalves.com/Porn_From_The_Inside_Part_2.html Porn: From The Inside (Part 2) The Change As I've mentioned before, the Internet porn industry keeps getting harder and harder to keep up with. Matt and I often said that if we could make just as much money shooting the girls fully clothed, we'd do it without hesitation. Unfortunately, the world doesn't work like that. Eventually Matt submitted to the whims of the market and we began to produce hardcore material: people fucking. The decision wasn't a favorite of mine, but it didn't ruin any of the luster. Most of the girls had plans for hardcore work in the industry, and those who didn't would eventually get talked into it for enough money. That's just the way it went. The day we first started filming people fucking was the most memorable for me. Matt had moved into a new house to be more comfortable and live a more relaxed lifestyle, so I now had an office that was my own little haven. I even had a bed to rest on if I could get over the realization of what it was repeatedly used for when I was not around. You could imagine my discomfort as I tried to construct a few lines of code with the sounds of a laboriously fake orgasm raking through my ears. This was a new element of my job that I guess I was just going to have to get used to. On a trip to the kitchen to get a glass of water, having to step around two people on the ground going at it like wind-up toys was also awkward. Lunch had just been delivered and I needed something to wash it down before I dove in. On the return trip, I passed by the writhing mass of 'talent' again. This time I added a witty, work-related quip as they paused to change positions. "Don't get a cramp!" I sat back down at my desk and unwrapped my lunch. I then lifted half of the twelve-inch Subway sandwich to my mouth... and held it there. The phallic significance of the sandwich was starting to seep through to my conscience. I was helpless against such thoughts. With a sigh, I set the sandwich back down upon its wrapper. Hardcore porn had ruined my lunch. I haven't mentioned yet how disillusioned I'd purposefully been about many of the models who came in to work. When a hot girl came in, I'd have the same expectations for her as I did all of them. I secretly wished for each girl to be a smart, well-adjusted college student who had just come upon some hard luck and needed a couple hundred dollars really quickly, or the same type who was also so secure with her sexuality that she wanted to model for fun because it pleased her. Every day I came in to work, I hoped to meet the girl of my dreams. Given the reality of the situation, I was surprised I wasn't made fun of more than I was already. Mirium was one of three models that we shot who all worked at the same hair salon in Lancaster. I only mention that information beyond her name in case you're ever in Lancaster and are looking for any redeeming qualities about that area. I knew she was trouble when Matt told me how she was talking dirty to him during the first half of her photo shoot. Thinking nothing of it, as I wasn't too attracted to her, I went about my work as he returned to the second half of the shoot. I was happily typing away at a project when Mirium busted into my office, completely naked. "I have a special talent, want to see?" Before I tell you what her talent was, I feel like I should tell you about everything that I hoped it would be at the time. The first thing that came to my mind was the idea that she wanted to show off her incredible talent at giving head. When she made a move toward the bed instead of my chair, that fantasy was quickly upgraded to a talent of being able to provide hot, wild sex to any male in need. My eyes were wide and I was ready to pounce on her.. She planted herself on the bed, leaned back, lifted her knees up, grabbed them and spread her legs, revealing her rather large vagina to me. I was on the edge of my seat, leaning forward, ready to dive in. She... had a look on her face. It wasn't the look that I was hoping for. It was more a look of intense concentration. I wasn't sure if I was disappointed yet because I somehow knew that something very special was about to happen. I thought about the possibilities. Perhaps she was going to coax herself to a squirting orgasm without touching. Perhaps she had a ping-pong ball hidden in there, ready to fly in my direction with the right contraction of her muscles. Maybe she just had a really awkward way of seducing men. Nothing I could think of, though, could prepare me for what I was about to... hear. It came in disjointed sequence at first; a little out of tune perhaps. It improved as she went along, though. The sounds she was making with her vagina drew my attention in. I was mesmerized. She was queefing "Mary Had A Little Lamb." If you think about all the kids you cheered in middle school as they performed an armpit symphony or belched the alphabet in a single breath, they had nothing on Mirium. This was divine. I applauded. April Fools A job in the porn industry would not be nearly as enjoyable as this was if not for the awesome relationship between Matt and myself. And what's the fun of such a tight bond between two people if you can't test it out once in a while? I'm not a religious guy, and I certainly don't stand on ceremony, but April 1st is the one holiday I celebrate with devotion. When your life revolves around one thing and one thing only, you pray against anything ever happening to it. Even if you're not religious, you pray. Example: One time, Matt's domain name (the dot com Internet address) had been stolen by some teenager from Turkey. Matt was crushed. Luckily, the kid felt too much guilt to hold out for a ransom, and he released the domain for Matt to re-acquire. Witnessing the worry and stress apparent on Matt's face throughout the whole ordeal concerned me. He really would have been fucked if not for one young boy's remorse. Five years of work almost down the drain. I felt sorry for my dear friend. Not sorry enough, though, to resist pushing that button again for my own sick amusement. On that holy day at the start of April, I set my diabolical scheme in motion. I programmed every page on the site to specifically detect our Internet connection when we access the site. The instructions I placed on the files when it detected our connection would replace the normal page that everyone else saw with the following plain text message: "fuck you matt im tired of being teh ass of all your jokes u and ur web master can go to hell happy fucking 500 models i deleted them all rg" "rg" were the initials of a particular photographer who we frequently made fun of. It was a flawless plan. No business was interrupted and Matt would think that his site got hacked. In time, apparently. It took until about 2pm that day for Matt to notice the surprise. Brian Adams went dead silent in the middle of "Summer of '69" and you could sense it in the air. His weak, shaken voice warbled through the hall. "Umm... Andrew?" The patter of Matt's footsteps clamoring toward my office was exquisite. He busted into the room and I put on my best puzzled face. "What's wrong with the site?" he asked. I gave his question a brief moment of inward contemplation, then swiveled my chair around to face my computer. I loaded the site on my computer and was greeted with my ingenious note. I didn't even have to read it, but I acted as if I were absorbing it word by word. "Woah. That is fucked up." All Matt needed to hear was the worried tone of my voice and he was running back down the hall to his own office. I heard him get on the phone with Tim, our server host. He was asking Tim what happened to the site. He was on the verge of tears. I didn't have the heart to let it continue further. The last thing I wanted to do was to explain to Tim why Matt was chewing his ass out over the phone. I sent Matt a short little instant message. "April Fools." I got him good. However, I wasn't done. As I mentioned before, Matt's girlfriend is a model. I ran her website as well. She was off at a photo shoot while all of this transpired so the fix was on. I ran through the same process with her site, except her message revealed her real name, her address, her cell phone number, and a really bad picture of her. I even threw in her mother's phone number for kicks. The initials this time were those of a photographer with whom she recently had a little argument. Matt was in on it with me this time. Having felt the power of my mighty maleficence, he was anxious to see where this could possibly go. Later on that night, when she got home, her site was the first thing she checked after she walked in the door. Screaming. Hysterical screaming. She ran into Matt's office and demanded that he fix it right away. Matt was quite the actor himself, so he did his best to calm her down before placing a mock phone call to Tim. Pretending to be speaking to his host, he argued for a moment with the imaginary Tim. "How long will it take to fix the site?" ...... "THREE WEEKS?!?!" Screaming. Hysterical screaming. At that point Matt chickened out. He had to dump the blame entirely on me or else he wouldn't get laid that night. I can't say that I blame him. They both vowed revenge on me the following day. Good fucking luck. With all the fun that I had at that job I can't help but feel that it was absolute luck that I was in the right position to be hired. Matt later revealed to me, after I told him the thing about the shoes at the interview, that he simply saw a skinny nerd without a tan and knew that I was exactly what he was looking for. Ahh, but even skinny nerds have their day of glory. The Clientèle For some people, porn is a serious subject. Almost gravely serious. I'm not talking about the nay-sayers who think it's the cause of all the world's problems; I'm talking about the clients. As mentioned, Matt's girlfriend is a model. To be more specific, though, she is a fetish model. If you wish, for a significant fee she will make a customized video to your specifications. Go ahead, think of anything. How about blowing bubbles? No, I'm not talking about clown porn. I'm talking about 3 pieces of Bubblicious gum, chewed up and orally inflated to and past the point of bursting. For thirty minutes. Some guy paid one thousand dollars for a video of that. You're probably wondering if she was naked, tied up or if any other props were involved. No. It was a half hour of just her head and subsequent bubbles that emerged from it. One grand. That is some serious fetish. Not impressed? Ok. Ants. We left a donut on the cement patio in the back yard. Within an hour, it was covered in ants. The video consisted of nothing more than our beloved fetish model angrily stomping on the helpless insects and shouting condescending remarks down at them. Now, I can understand the loose logic that one would use to justify the sexual value of this situation. Obviously the guy is imagining himself as the ant, being insulted, dominated and crushed by a hot girl with huge tits. Still, as tolerant and open minded as I am, I've got to say, "That is not normal." In my many years of browsing the Internet, I have come across many porn sites. Most are all the same, but there have have been a few that I keep in a shoe box in my heart. I've seen snot porn. I've seen an erotic site with pictures of girls with their cars stuck in the mud. I've even seen a site where all the photos were touched up to give girls pointed ears, selling them as elves. The truth is, those sites were created in humor and were not actually open for business. The stuff that I got to witness was paid for with more than two months worth of car payments. Remember the scene in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" where Baron von Rotton punched a cannister of ACME glue? The glue was fittingly cartoon-like in its stretching ability. That kind of glue actually exists. I know this because we had to use it as a prop. The situation was this: Our beautiful busty babe was to be walking to her car, on her way to work. Not far from the door, she would pause, look down, and find herself stuck in a patch of glue. She would then, for five minutes, struggle to free herself from her stretchy restraint. After she managed to do that, she would take another step and find herself attached to the ground once again. This time, it would take fifteen minutes to free herself before getting in her car and driving off. A thousand dollars. In two years of working close to the action of the porn industry, I've personally met close to three hundred models. Some became famous; some made a beeline for the door as soon as it dawned on them exactly what kind of photo shoot their agent sent them to. Out of all of them though, about two of them were what I would consider normal. I suppose that's just right considering the mentality of those who put their hard earned money into the fantasy. To quote Matt and his infinite wisdom, "Porn is funny."