This is an excerpt from Chapter 1 of my upcoming book, Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy (click for more info).

Chapter 1 – Six Showers Away From A Hug

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“Will you come to my bukkake?” asked Hailey.

My mind raced in search of a reasonable excuse to say no. I’d much rather stay home and read, or watch a movie, or yank out my fingernails with pliers, than drive way out to The Valley to watch a live porn shoot. I live on the west side of Los Angeles, near the beach and, under normal circumstances, would never have reason to get on the 405 north. In a perfect world I would drive to, but never past, the beautiful J. Paul Getty Museum. And I would never, ever, set foot in the godformotherfuckingsaken San Fernando Valley.

“The Valley”, as it’s commonly known, is a giant suburb full of crappy strip malls, used car lots, meth labs and porn. At least that’s how I see it. Many would argue that this is not the case. That The Valley, generally speaking, is a pretty nice area, full of commerce, family neighborhoods and spacious parks. They might also argue that the Westside of LA is overcrowded, overrated and overpriced. I would argue that those people are idiots and deserve to live in The Valley.

Before I could answer, Hailey started whining, “Pleaaaaaase? Pretty Please? I’m so nervous. I need you there for support.” Support? What kind of support? Does one need support at a bukkake? Does one need support to perform any kind of sexual acts? I suppose if you have trouble getting turned on you might require support. But what am I gonna do, administer the lube? Maybe when I’m around, chicks don’t need lube. Maybe I’m so sexy that my mere presence is an aphrodisiac, causing women to produce copious amounts of wetness when they catch a whiff of my pheromones. That could work out really well for me, financially speaking. I would get paid by directors to show up on porn sets, by couples for stale marriage beds, by Catholic priests at Sunday school. I guess I’d never realized the powerful sexiness I possess. I am the Dalai Lama of physical love. My essence must cause spontaneous arousal when I enter a building.

I am rudely awakened from my musings by her whiny voice and, apparently, I’m wrong. She doesn’t need me to get her in the mood. She tells me she needs moral support.

Uh, if one is doing porn they don’t need moral support. They need morals. And their pimp, aka manager, probably doesn’t have any to spare. In fact, that particular person is probably sporting a sizable deficit in the morality department. That person, by the way, is me.

I doubted that she required any kind of support. Hailey, like all girls in the industry, required attention. Low self esteem was rampant amongst adult actresses and attention was a temporary panacea. The only time they felt good about themselves was on set, surrounded by false adulation, or when a particular guy that they liked was focused on them. It didn’t matter if that guy was a father figure, a boyfriend, or someone in a position of authority, and it definitely didn’t matter if he was giving her positive attention. He could be serenading her, fucking her, or screaming at her in a fit of rage. It just mattered that he was aware she existed. Across the board, girls who do porn suffer from a complete lack of self worth and need to be acknowledged, even if in the most unhealthy ways.

Booking a scene that was massive in scale, compared to most, didn’t sufficiently appease Hailey’s need for validation. She required me to come along and pay attention to her as well. I suppose it also made her feel like a real movie star, to have her representation on set. And, in as much as I hated the idea of spending my evening watching her shoot, I acquiesced. Simply put, I had no other choice. For all intents and purposes, Hailey was a star, at least in my agency. She was the number one model, the primary earner, the poontang that paid the bills. For this reason, I swallowed my disdain for the valley and answered, “Of course. It’ll be fun.”

Because nothing screams fun like a Tuesday night bukkake.

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For more info click on: Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy.

All content is Copyright © 2008/2009 by Frank Prather.
No reprints in part or in whole without express, written permission from the author.