by Howie Gordon
If John Seeman was a leprechaun, then Daemian Lee must have been a satyr, one of those half-man, half-goat creatures of Greek legend. His long curly hair no doubt hid the short horns and pointed ears, but I was pretty sure that if you took off his shoes, you’d see the hooves. His beard was a well-trimmed goatee and his lechery was a matter of public record.
“I can help you with that,” was what Daemian told me when I spoke of the arousal problems I’d been having with screen lust. And he did! In fact, what we ended up doing together was creating an acting class where adult film performers could come and work on whatever they wanted in order to improve their skills.
The initial class of “the Sex Actor’s Film Academy” had a total enrollment of four students and one faculty member. I was there to have a safe place to practice having sex in front of the camera. Sharon Kane got recruited to do some scene study and improvisation. Keith joined us because he was a good friend of Daemian. They had already worked together on a number of projects. Tess completed our ensemble. She was Daemian’s biggest fan, all-round assistant, and live-in lover. That was our student body. There were no fees. We were all there on full scholarships.
Daemian, of course, was the teacher. In the back of his mind, he had already arranged financing to direct a small-scale feature film of his own. In addition to helping us with our stated needs, Daemian would use the class to further develop his screenplay and to line up the potential talent for casting what would later become the movie, Babylove and Beau.
Our first class met in Daemian and Tess’s little apartment. Our next three classes also met in their apartment. We only had four classes and then we went right into the production of Babylove and Beau.
During the first class, Daemian placed me on a stool and had me face the video camera. I was naked. My assignment was to masturbate to orgasm.
Y’know, I’ve often thought during my career that a movie made about what we were really going through offscreen while making some of these porno movies would be far more interesting and entertaining than stuff we were doing onscreen. Backstage in Pornoland was an endlessly fascinating place peopled by extraordinary characters in all kinds of bizarre situations. This particular “rehearsal” in Daemian and Tess’s apartment would certainly make for a fine scene in any such production.
My assignment was to face the camera and masturbate to orgasm. In real life, the door got closed and locked whenever I masturbated. I never ever wanted to get “caught” masturbating, and I never did. But this wasn’t real life. This was Pornoland. It was a humiliating and embarrassing situation to put myself into, but I was working on my “hitting” and I cranked up the nerve to try.
My classmates were supportive. I had confessed my fears to the entire student body and had asked for their help in using this class to grow stronger as a sexual performer. Daemian had Sharon Kane sit herself underneath the camera lens and face me. She was naked too. She was also masturbating herself. She was generously offering me that view as a stimulation for me to achieve my goal. I went at the task with a determination.
Can you hear the theme song from Rocky playing? I’m runnin’ through the streets of Philadelphia. I’m doin’ a left-right-left on a side of beef.
“I’m workin’ here! I’m workin’ here!” Would Dustin Hoffman do anything less?
After pumping and sweating and admiring the intimate views of Sharon Kane, my penis gushed forth the precious liquid triumph. I slumped and sighed as my classmates applauded.
Babylove and Beau was the story of a sailor on shore leave in San Francisco.
As Beau, I had four sex scenes to play in the movie. The first one was a three-way with two women playing hookers. One of them was a pornstar-like flashy blonde and the other looked like the young woman you sat next to during a History lecture at college. Nice smile, no heat. Naturally, I was all eager to have sex with the flashy blonde. I thought that the heat would come from her. Dead wrong.
When the cameras started rolling, the blonde was a total disappointment. She was listless and matter-of-fact. Ho-hum, another cock to suck. She appeared bored by it all and blasé just did not do it for me. I think she wanted a paycheck and I think she wanted to do as little as possible in order to get it. Had it been just the two of us, that scene could have been in a whole lot of trouble. As it was, the college girl came through like a champ.
Her name was Roberta. She was actually Sharon Kane’s roommate. She was friendly, eager, willing, and wanting. It was a very nice combination for me. She filled all the gaps of desire opened by the blonde’s apparent indifference.
Between the two of them, I got it done. I was hard when I was supposed to be hard and I was able to orgasm when the director called for the sacred come shot.
Line drive—base hit! Thank you, Roberta!
My remaining three sex scenes were all with Sharon Kane. I had known Sharon since the orgy scene in Candy Goes to Hollywood. She was a big-boned woman in her early twenties with long flowing blonde hair that reached her backside. She looked real. She was warm and friendly with an easy, out-going way and had an innate sense of comedy. She was talented, sincere, and down-to-earth good people. I had gotten to know her better than any other woman I had yet to work with. We had some chemistry going, Sharon and me. I liked Sharon a lot. Beau loved her.
In our first sex scene together, I was fucking her from behind, doggy style, when she suddenly threw her head back and caught me right in the mouth. Boom! I bit my tongue and drew blood. We had to stop filming. When the bleeding finally stopped and we tried to get the sex started up again, my penis was gone. The panic returned. Shit. Daemian didn’t waste any time. He had me simulate an orgasm and then I was pulled out of the scene for a stunt cock. Classmate Keith was going to stand in for me.
I got very nervous and crazy when my erection disappeared. Daemian sent me off of the set. Told me I should go out and jog a mile before coming back. It was a strange direction to receive and what was probably even stranger was that I did it.
When I returned, Keith had done the deed and we moved on.
In our second sex scene, we did something a little bit different. We went for the female come shot. Most female orgasms portrayed in the movies were acted. They were not real. It was, no doubt, as difficult for a woman to come on camera as it was for a man. Mostly, directors simply did not want to wait around for something that they couldn’t really “see” anyway. A lot of time and money was saved by just having the women “act” their orgasms.
To Daemian and Sharon’s credit, we thought that a real female orgasm might play better than a simulation and that became the focus of our second sex scene. In essence, Beau gave Babylove a blow job.
We shot a certain amount of the hardcore oral sex footage and then the camera crew went into stand-by to await the orgasm. I continued to mouth Sharon until she got close and then she cued the camera to roll. We were able to film her having an orgasm.
Somehow, the world remained remarkably unimpressed by this bit of revolutionary cinema.
We shot our last sex scene on a deserted beach near Half Moon Bay. It was a glorious day. We had to pass through a field of ripe artichokes to get to the beach and we all got to pick some to take home for dinner. The film was nearing completion and feelings were running high.
We had shot a lot of montage footage of Babylove and Beau rolling around in Golden Gate Park, walking hand-in-hand the streets of San Francisco, and today, they’d make love on a golden California beach.
Babylove and Beau had been on a weeklong ride of falling in love and the sands of time were running out on the romance. Soon, the bubble would pop and Howie and Sharon would have to cope with the return to their normal lives. This lovemaking scene pretty much reflected the climax of the movie, both on screen and off. The scene felt like it was half work and half reward. It was easy sex that day, warm and playful with a double barrel of emotion.
The role of Beau had lasted longer than any I had previously played. Acting 101 — it was hard letting go. I liked be
ing the star and I liked being Beau. An actor worked very hard to become somebody else and then, POOF! It was all over. There was nothing to do but go home and start over. I wrote in my diary:
Hey, Beau, whatta ya know?
Everything has got to go!
Hey, Beau, whatta ya know?
Everything is gone!
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You know what I liked best about that Chapter?” Carly asked me.
“No, what?” I said.
“The artichokes. With porn stars, you know it’s all so sucky-fucky this and that. It’s all so crude. The idea that they go home and eat artichokes for dinner, now, that’s just perfect!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
John Lennon
The phone rang on May 5, 2009. It was my mother-in-law calling on my birthday. I thought I’d be done with this book by then, but I wasn’t even close. Maybe I’ll be done by May 5 of next year.
In addition to wishing me a “Happy Birthday,” Mom was calling to let us know that she had just had a terminal tiff with her assisted living helper who was now being sent packing. Oops.
Mom was in her golden years. She had survived the death of her spouse some four or five years earlier and continued to live on in her own home. She was still sharp as a tack, but now she needed some help physically to keep it all afloat. This last live-in, assisted-living helper had lasted eleven months before this rather sudden and abrupt conclusion.
For a variety of reasons, Mom could not be left alone, and the family decided to send me to Southern California to help her until another caregiver could be hired and placed into service.
When I first married Carly, I thought that the last thing on earth I needed was yet another mother and father. The ones I already had seemed to be just plenty. Well, the long years since have revealed otherwise. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I was extremely blessed and lucky in the in-law department and I was more than fine with having the opportunity to be of some service to Carly’s mom.
Our brief time together that followed was a treasure. I was able to help with her eye-drop medications, driving to appointments, food preparation, and just generally being a companion and running the house. The one significant thing I wasn’t asked to provide was personal care for her in grooming and dressing, but Carly’s older sister came around often enough to make that work too. Mostly what I provided was the security and peace of mind that came with not being left alone in a big house.
My visit lasted around ten days. Eventually, new assisted-living workers were interviewed and hired and Carly and I chatted in our e mails about my return:
I wrote:
Your mom’s taking her nap now. I’m just phumfing around the computer. Thought I’d tell you that I love you.
Ted Clumsily
Carly wrote:
Dear Ted,
Obviously I have not opened my computer for several days.
I just got your love note and I’m wrapping it around my metaphorical shoulders to hold me ‘til you get home, when I will be wrapping me around your actual everything until you rinse me off.
I love you more than moon syrup on cloud waffles.
Mini Haha
I wrote:
Good Shabbos, Ms. HaHa!
I have my boarding pass. I am looking to renew my membership in your general everything come the morrow.
Things here appear stable. May they continue on that path.
Love,
Shminny Attsairris, the Puerto Rican catcher
Carly wrote:
Shminny!
I am breathless in wait 4 U.
Please continue from these ideas toward eventual realization.
You have a boarding pass.
Behind the picture of Dad in the computer room, I left an unopened bottle of cherry flavored Maalox.
If you’re checking yr. bag, please bring it home. If not, they likely won’t let you through security, so leave it there and I’ll plan on some indigestion on my next trip to SD.
You, my beloved, are the Meow of the Cat and also its Pajamas.
I adoreth thy general everything.
Hunque Hunque Burninlove
And she picked me up at the airport. As we were heading home, my beloved swore to me after my return from helping to take care of her mother that she would never again get on my case about anything.
I asked, “Would you put that in writing?”
“Don’t push it,” she replied.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“So, Marty, you saying you might want to agent this thing after all?”
“Well, that depends. Can you stop writing about your erectile dysfunction?”
“Y’know, when I first dropped out of the business back in 1982, I sat down and wrote 1,000 pages. It was the complete encyclopedia of my career.”
“Yeah, I know,” he interrupted, “and there’s probably about two guys on the whole fucking planet who might like to read something like that, neither of whom, I guarantee you, that you’d want to spend any time with.”
“You’re killin’ me, Marty.”
“Yeah, well, I’m tryin’. You know, sometimes you write like you’re still getting paid by the word. We’re not after volume here. All is way too much. It gets boring. I’ve had it with all your dick troubles. Enough is enough. Pick and choose. It’s time to distill from all that information. Pare and carve. Get it all down to the best of the best and then we’ll see what we’ve got. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Yeah? Really? You said, ‘Okay?’”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Well, okay then.”
Chapter Thirty
After Babylove and Beau, I was hitting six for twelve in career orgasms.
Those were not exactly Hall of Fame stats.
My fears and agonies about cinematic sex were all real enough, but there was no way I could escape a certain appreciation for the ridiculousness of my dilemmas. I mean, how many people walking down Main St., U.S.A., were having my kind of troubles at the office?
That year, the next volume of my diary was titled, What to Do Until Mental Health Comes. It began with: The Porno Actor’s Prayer.
At this point, pornography continued to be my way of running off to join the circus. The regular nine-to-five just wasn’t gonna work for me. And even though I was married, I was nowhere close to being able to make any kind of a commitment that included monogamy. It seemed like I was where I was supposed to be.
My next job came in a loop arranged for me by John Seeman. It was a straight sex scene and I worked in a three-way with a woman named Mandy and a guy named Gene.
I liked Mandy right off the bat. She was a plain, right-nice, down-home Texas girl, about the same age as me. During the preliminaries of makeup and such, she talked a lot about her new boyfriend, Michael Morrison. I talked about my wife. Mandy was real and the touching was easy.
Our partner Gene, on the other hand, was a frenetic young, macho type with a big dick. I didn’t have much use for him, but peaceful coexistence was not impossible. If you think that politics makes for strange bedfellows, try working in porn for a while.
When the sex got underway, Gene fucked her first. I kind of just held her while she absorbed his pounding. Gene was being a real man about it. I stroked Mandy’s hair and nuzzled her about the neck in trying to defer some of the harshness of his lust. Eventually, Gene squirted his squirt and I took his place. We made a slower, softer love and I made a new friend. Coming was no problem. I was seven for thirteen.
Couple days later, there was another phone call from John Seeman and another loop.
This was another threesome, this time with Liza and Flip. It turned out to be a remarkable experience.
From the moment we first touched Liza, she got very LOUD. I mean, VERY LOUD. And the moaning and groaning was extraordinary. This was the intersection of “Hot and Funny.”
We were s
hooting in a residential apartment building. The director and the film crew immediately began shushing her so as not to get the neighbors all bent out of shape. Good luck with that! It was hard to tell if Liza couldn’t or wouldn’t turn it off. It seemed like some kind of unconscious oral eruption that just came alive with the sex. Wow! I had never met a woman like that before. Liza could get all the dogs in the neighborhood howling for blocks around. Not only could she have brought Lazarus back from the dead but she would have brought him back with a boner.
In most sex scenes, getting the actors and actresses to amplify their real arousal noises was like pulling teeth. Even at orgasm, people were often too shy to let the animal beast get out very far. The director would call for “more” from the “acting” and what was offered up was all too often an embarrassment and an insult to the entire human race. If you’ve seen even one porno movie, the odds are you know exactly what I’m talking about.
I don’t know whether Liza was really turned on and this was just her way, or if she was acting. But either way, she offered up an incredible bit of erotic-comedic genius. Looking back, I wished I’d had the brains to do more work with her. Hers was a remarkable talent!
Flip came within the first two minutes. Liza barely had her motors warmed. I took his place. They had me trying to cover her mouth with my hands while we had sex, but it didn’t do much good. She was the wolf woman, lit up. Liza the Moaner! Liza the Moaner was bellowing. She made just about the best sex noises I ever heard and she was making them for everybody! She didn’t care who was listening. I doubt that any man within earshot could have possibly avoided getting hard. It was funny and it was hot. I stayed in the saddle as long as I could, but I too seemed to have been swept away by an early orgasm. No matter, Flip was up again and ready to go another round. Ride ‘em, fuckin’ Liza!
