Read Online The Hardest (Working) Man in Showbiz by Ron Jeremy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ron Jeremy
Tags: General, Social Science, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Biography, Performing Arts, Film & Video, Autobiography, Pornography, Motion Picture Actors and Actresses, Entertainment & Performing Arts - General, Pornographic films, Erotic films
Ads: Link
you about ready here?”
“Almost,” I muttered.
It took him a minute to realize what was happening. “What the hell? Are you out of your mind?”
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I know what I’m doing.”
He stifled a laugh. “Y’know, Samantha is more than happy to fuck you. You didn’t need to save it for the fluffer.”
Christie, a consummate professional, could feel that I was coming dangerously close to cumming and promptly jumped off of me. I stood up, shoved the PA out of the way, and bolted toward the door.
I tumbled down the stairs, screaming at the top of my lungs, my massive boner waving in the air like a pendulum.
“Roll! Roll! Roll! Roll the cameras! Roll the cameras!!”
I saw my first porno film in 1969, when I was just sixteen years old.
Actually, I’m not sure if it counted. The only reason it could’ve been called porn at all was because it had the word pornography in the title. It was called Pornography in Denmark , a documentary about the first country to legalize adult films. By today’s standards, it wasn’t even scandalous enough to shock the typical PBS viewer. But when my dad announced that he was taking me to the American premiere at the Mayfair Theater in Fresh Meadows, Queens, I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep for a week. All I could think was, “I’m going to see a movie about boobies. Boobies, boobies, boobies. What god did I please?”
As it turned out, boobies in Denmark were hard to come by, even in a documentary about boobies. There were plenty of ancient-looking sexologists talking about boobies. But when it came to actually showing us boobies, they were apparently in short supply.
Things slightly improved during the summer of 1972, when Deep Throat opened in New York. I was nineteen at the time, and less interested in seeing other people have sex than doing it myself. But with all the media hullabaloo surrounding the film, I was at least curious enough to check it out. I went with a date to the Mayfair, which probably wasn’t the best of ideas. This was no Pornography in Denmark . Deep Throat featured lots of explicit hard-core sex with very little left to the imagination, which isn’t exactly the sort of thing you want to watch with a prudish date. Luckily, the rest of the movie was pretty goofy, so we made the most of an awkward situation by mocking the terrible acting and sloppy production values.
Though I wasn’t very impressed with Deep Throat as a porno, I wasn’t so jaded that I couldn’t appreciate Linda Lovelace’s fellatio skills. Her technique was, if nothing else, unique. She didn’t take the entire shaft in one gulp. She’d break a blow job down into stages. She’d take a penis into her throat almost to the point where it hit her epiglottis, and then she’d pause for a moment before sucking the rest of it down. It was as if she was deciding just how much she’d need to expand her throat to fit the rest of it inside. She’d make a cute little grunting noise—an “unngh” sound—and then boom, the penis would be gone, right down to the balls.
Harry Reems, Lovelace’s costar, wasn’t exactly small in the cock department. How she got all of him inside without his dick popping out the back of her head was a miracle. I was just in awe. It wasn’t until years later that I learned a trick that Little Oral Annie used to do. Before a blow-job scene, she would cover her gums with butter or margarine. Apparently the lubrication made it easier for a cock to slide naturally inside and keep right on going.
A few years later, I saw the sequel, Deep Throat 2 , in the Catskills. There was a drive-in movie down on Route 42 that showed adult movies exclusively, so I went with some of my teaching friends from Crystal Run. It was horrible. There wasn’t any actual sex in it. It barely passed for soft core. My friends and I were outraged and left halfway through. I found out later that Arrow, the company that produced the original Deep
“Almost,” I muttered.
It took him a minute to realize what was happening. “What the hell? Are you out of your mind?”
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I know what I’m doing.”
He stifled a laugh. “Y’know, Samantha is more than happy to fuck you. You didn’t need to save it for the fluffer.”
Christie, a consummate professional, could feel that I was coming dangerously close to cumming and promptly jumped off of me. I stood up, shoved the PA out of the way, and bolted toward the door.
I tumbled down the stairs, screaming at the top of my lungs, my massive boner waving in the air like a pendulum.
“Roll! Roll! Roll! Roll the cameras! Roll the cameras!!”
I saw my first porno film in 1969, when I was just sixteen years old.
Actually, I’m not sure if it counted. The only reason it could’ve been called porn at all was because it had the word pornography in the title. It was called Pornography in Denmark , a documentary about the first country to legalize adult films. By today’s standards, it wasn’t even scandalous enough to shock the typical PBS viewer. But when my dad announced that he was taking me to the American premiere at the Mayfair Theater in Fresh Meadows, Queens, I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep for a week. All I could think was, “I’m going to see a movie about boobies. Boobies, boobies, boobies. What god did I please?”
As it turned out, boobies in Denmark were hard to come by, even in a documentary about boobies. There were plenty of ancient-looking sexologists talking about boobies. But when it came to actually showing us boobies, they were apparently in short supply.
Things slightly improved during the summer of 1972, when Deep Throat opened in New York. I was nineteen at the time, and less interested in seeing other people have sex than doing it myself. But with all the media hullabaloo surrounding the film, I was at least curious enough to check it out. I went with a date to the Mayfair, which probably wasn’t the best of ideas. This was no Pornography in Denmark . Deep Throat featured lots of explicit hard-core sex with very little left to the imagination, which isn’t exactly the sort of thing you want to watch with a prudish date. Luckily, the rest of the movie was pretty goofy, so we made the most of an awkward situation by mocking the terrible acting and sloppy production values.
Though I wasn’t very impressed with Deep Throat as a porno, I wasn’t so jaded that I couldn’t appreciate Linda Lovelace’s fellatio skills. Her technique was, if nothing else, unique. She didn’t take the entire shaft in one gulp. She’d break a blow job down into stages. She’d take a penis into her throat almost to the point where it hit her epiglottis, and then she’d pause for a moment before sucking the rest of it down. It was as if she was deciding just how much she’d need to expand her throat to fit the rest of it inside. She’d make a cute little grunting noise—an “unngh” sound—and then boom, the penis would be gone, right down to the balls.
Harry Reems, Lovelace’s costar, wasn’t exactly small in the cock department. How she got all of him inside without his dick popping out the back of her head was a miracle. I was just in awe. It wasn’t until years later that I learned a trick that Little Oral Annie used to do. Before a blow-job scene, she would cover her gums with butter or margarine. Apparently the lubrication made it easier for a cock to slide naturally inside and keep right on going.
A few years later, I saw the sequel, Deep Throat 2 , in the Catskills. There was a drive-in movie down on Route 42 that showed adult movies exclusively, so I went with some of my teaching friends from Crystal Run. It was horrible. There wasn’t any actual sex in it. It barely passed for soft core. My friends and I were outraged and left halfway through. I found out later that Arrow, the company that produced the original Deep
Similar Books
