Read Girlvert: A Porno Memoir for Free Online

an overall eeriness, an aura of badness. Tyler and I got naked for our Polaroids, which was the ritual of every porn director thus far. For me, a frontal, back, and bent-over shot.
    Tyler had to be hard for his photo. To his (and my) horror, he couldn’t get it up. He jiggled, wiggled, and jacked, but his dick just hung limp, lifeless. I think Victor’s bad energy got to Tyler’s dick and poisoned it. We went into the bathroom for a couple of minutes. Tyler kissed me, felt up my boobs and ass, trying to make the connection. I sucked it for a minute. Nothing was bringing blood into that shaft. It might have been all the coke we did right before our arrival. I don’t know. His dick just refused to work.
    “Well, look, if you can’t even take this picture, I can’t use you in any of my scenes. Sorry, man.” Victor shrugged it off, smirking at Tyler’s failure. Then he added, “I need my guys to be solid. One hundred percent. No exceptions.”
    Victor could definitely use me in a movie though. How about Thursday? Sure, a DP, and I do interracial, right? Of course! I wanted to prove to the world that I wasn’t a racist. I’d never even kissed a black guy before porno, but I loved to fuck them on film. Amorously, I have always been into tall, pale, blue-eyed artists. I was afraid I’d end up becoming a racist if I never fucked a black man. I wasn’t a bigot, but I also didn’t fully understand how people became bigots. Members of my own family are shameless racists, and I was willing to do anything to dissociate myself from them. I thought about doing black guys the first day I walked into World Modeling. I wanted the opportunity to deconstruct myself and society with no emotional strings attached. Porno gave me that.
    When we left Victor’s place, we felt awful. Tyler was humiliated, and I felt guilty for succeeding alone in what we came to do together. Tyler started yelling at me.
    “Why didn’t you help me out? You could have paid more attention to me! Act like you love me once in a while? I thought we were only going to work together, with each other. Why didn’t you insist that I be in the scene? You didn’t stick up for me at all! Don’t you fucking love me? Do you?” Tyler’s hands were punching the passenger seat. He lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke against the windshield as he became more and more upset. One thing that I cannot stand—that always escalated arguments behind the wheel—was smoking in the car.
    “I’m sorry, Tyler! I’m so sorry! I do love you, more than anyone.” I thought he wanted me to do a scene for Victor. Victor, his hero. And we had worked with other people, so far we both had. “You got that blowjob scene for Cinderella without me,” I reminded him. “And I’m sorry, but I was shy in front of Victor. It’s not fair that he put me on the spot like that. I just couldn’t think straight. I’m still fucked up!” We flew down the 101 toward Hollywood, screaming. Then Tyler conceded.
    “You’re right. We have worked with other people. I’m sorry. I’ll go back and prove myself to him another time. Maybe Colby can get us all to hang out together and we can show him how crazy we are off camera. I can show him how good I can fuck with you and Colby.” Tyler was staring straight ahead, fantasizing about the great big orgy we would all have with Victor, how he would show this guy what a great fucker he was.
    “Yeah, sure. Sounds good,” I lied. No way did I want to hang out with Victor. He made both of us feel like shit. I solved the quandary by saying, “Hey, Tyler. Call Ernesto. Make sure he’s on his way home.”
    I was supposed to be at Victor’s eight o’clock Wednesday morning to do a cover shoot—or so I was told, anyway—for the video he was putting me in. Terrified that I would oversleep and make this guy angry, I stayed up all night on Tuesday. I never stopped doing coke. I arrived shaky, but not late. We weren’t doing the scene until Thursday, so I