It started during a conversation with Kim Airs, who has become a helpful Virgil on my tour. I asked her what I have asked others, why there was so much sexual conversation when America was supposed to be a Puritan place rediscovering its religiously restricted carnal outlook.
It’s not just the conversation, she said; it’s the doing. As my own correspondents indicated, many people were not just watching porn and buying vibrators by the millions. They wanted action.
“One word sums it up,” she said. “Internet.”
“Yes, yes. I know,” I said a little impatiently. Everyone from the folks at Phil Harvey’s place to the women in Missouri have said the Internet has replaced school and family and church as sources of information about sex. I rolled my eyes.
I have a prejudice against the Internet. I am sick of hearing how “the Internet has changed everything.” I know it’s true, but I hate hearing about it from smug know-it-alls in chino pants, the BlackBerrys hanging from their belts turning them into wan gunslingers. I have long thought the rise of the Internet was a self-fulfilling prophecy driven by stock options. To my mind, the Internet as we know it was created by hippies who failed to make utopia in Haight-Ashbury or back-to-the-land communes and thought they could finally carve it out of virtual worlds made possible by digital technology, worlds conveniently free of all the human nature—sex, drugs, self-interest, money, emotions—that mucked up the Haight and the entire hippie-anarchist enterprise. But just as they did before, they turned into prophets for profit, cashing in on promises of a technological nirvana of free information, democracy, and liberty for all.
What nobody seems to be saying out loud is that the Internet has created a new tyranny of technology. What? You don’t have a cable router hooked to a 2-gig RAM Vista machine with an Nvidia graphics card and 120-meg hard drive? You read a newspaper? On paper? Oh, man! Refuse to buy an airline ticket online? Pay more. No need to read Huckleberry Finn. Kids should learn “computer skills.”
Of course it has changed the world, but for every truth that gets out that would not have otherwise been heard, there seems to be a hundred lies. Worse, it has made the world an oyster for Islamic Nazis, hucksters, identity thieves, Lonelygirl 15, and political bloggers who produce nothing original but demand—and receive—obeisance from a political class terrified of what the “blogosphere” might say. The Internet is a black hole into which time is poured.
But I knew Kim was correct. Of course she was correct. The free flow of information on the Internet, not to mention all the porn floating around on it, has probably done more to change sex since the appearance of Playboy. Personally I wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. Exploding myths was good, I guessed, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about the rest. So I asked Kim what she thought.
“Okay, where do I start? The sex act. The sharing of personal information, photos, the anonymity, IMing,” by which Kim meant instant messaging. “You can see movies, pictures of naked people, everybody does that now.”
By “everybody,” Kim meant people who are not pros and not making a living having sex, people who take pictures or videos of themselves and broadcast them to the world. Kim knows because she used to run her own homemade porn film festival to which people from many walks of life submitted videos of themselves in flagrante in a declaration of independence from big-time porn. Nobody got paid, nobody expected a career in the skin trade. It was just the idea that everybody can be a porn star now, she said, thanks to tiny digital video cameras and computers, and the very freedom to do it has led many to take up the challenge.
“The accessibility of sex has changed immensely. I think we are taking action because it is so much easier now. You can go on Craig’s List and get laid in half an hour. We are having more sex in all its forms, and that choice is supported a bit more. I mean, go to AdultFriendFinder and you can find anything.”
I wasn’t sure whether or not to be disturbed or buoyed by the idea that my every sexual desire could be satisfied by going online. On one hand, maybe it could be freeing. On the other, I still worried about the question I asked Candida Royalle and Susan Montani back in North Carolina. “What happens if nothing’s taboo?”
So I went to the website of AdultFriendFinder, based in Silicon Valley, the most popular commercial adult dating site (in a realm in which dating means “sex”) on the Internet. An estimated twenty-four million people from all over the world have registered their profiles with the site and every day tens of thousands join them, sending tiny signal flares into the Web sky. Other members who like what they see can flag the profile, effectively sending their own signal flare in return.
Filling out a profile of myself proved tricky. Since I wanted to attract some responses, I had to make it sound interesting. But I also wanted to be honest and so I could not promise anybody an actual meeting for sex. Besides, I’m more the “meet cute” type. But eventually, I wrote:
I’m a writer interested in communicating with people who have a variety of sexual interests. Absolutely sincere.
This was completely true, if deliberately vague. In the space for describing who I was seeking, I typed:
I’m looking for those who wish to share experiences honestly.
Which was also true, though the sharing I had in mind may not have been the sharing a responder might have in mind.
A week later, my first e-mail arrived from AdultFriendFinder, a compilation of all those who had seen my profile and wanted to meet, at least virtually. The first one read: “Young, affectionate couple committed to each other and our relationship. Looking to expand our sexual experiences, fulfill fantasies as well as meet like-minded people and make new friendships.” They included a picture of themselves sitting on a couch.
They were pretty tame compared with others that followed. “I have always been that ‘good girl next door,’” a woman, who said she was thirty-three, and who sent a picture of her thong underwear–clad butt thrust into the air, wrote. “Now it is time for me to be as bad as I wanna be…no more ‘good girl.’” In the same batch, another woman, who claimed to be twenty-one, was shown shoving a dildo into her rectum.
Who are these people inhabiting the Web? Who is the woman standing naked in high heels against the kitchen counter, an open box of Wheaties in the background? Who is the man, hands on his hips posing like Superman at the beach, his pale ass gleaming in the sun? Who is the woman sitting spread-eagled in her Barcalounger with the vacuum cleaner plugged into the wall socket, standing ready to clean the living room, which, by the looks of it, could use some work?
In some photos there are needlepoint cushions depicting quaint farmhouses plumped on the couch, and family photos sitting on the piano, or prescription bottles on the bedside table, but the people are always naked or nearly naked and reaching out to the wide Web world.
“I hope you remember me but if you don’t, my name is Kitty and I am a 50+ mother of a college student. My first contri [contribution] appeared on April 4th and you all left such wonderful comments. So I decided to submit again. This time I will show you what I like to do right before bedtime.” And there is Kitty, reading, or pretending to read, a book, first with a nightie on and then with it off, and then kneeling with her ass to the camera, her breasts dangling.
“Hi Folks…! We are a mature couple living in the Ft. Lauderdale, Florida area. We really hope you guys enjoy our Las Vegas contri. Positive comments are app [appreciated].” And there she is, Mrs. South Florida Sunshine, lying on a hotel room bed, her breasts flopped over her red top, staring out the window over the roof of a Ross discount store, toward the Circus Circus in the background.
They are twenty and sixty and thirty-five. Often they are pregnant. “Preg-O Wife!”
“I had my boyfriend take these pictures,” one writes on Voyeur web.com, explaining her series of shots. “I am very shy and can’t believe I am actually doing this. Hopefully people will like these.”
“This is my hot 26 year old wife,” says a newly married man. “She l
ooks hot no matter what she has or doesn’t have on, but there is something about a wet t-shirt clinging to her gorgeous breasts. If there is enough positive responses we will post more with the wet clothes all off. Please enjoy, I know I did when I took the pictures and enjoyed even more when I got to put the camera down.”
“Hi guys, me again,” writes a mature woman with short blond hair posing topless, in panty hose. “You gave me so many hot, flattering comments last time I decided to try again. I thought I was too old for this and had lost my sex appeal when I hit fifty, but here I am eight years later showing my tits for you guys, and hoping you will jack off while you look at me. That is so hot…! I’ve never been gang-banged but I always wanted to try it. I’m married and have two kids, both of whom are grown up and have kids of their own, so that makes me a granny! Oh my goodness…! Thanks so much.”
Like other commercial websites that post amateur submissions, this one has a section that, for a fee, includes X-rated images and videos of some of these same people having sex. Democracy has come to the Internet, but not in the way its most ardent promoters advertised. Just as happened with the introduction of Polaroid film, which required no developing from an outside provider, from the Internet’s earliest days, people realized they could be as raunchy as they ever imagined being without creating a scandal, because on the Internet, you can be anonymous if you choose.
Of course, sometimes word gets out, as happened in Snyder, Oklahoma, when the police chief’s wife was discovered posing nude in front of an American flag on a website. He eventually quit after citizens demanded a police chief who shared their moral values. “People in this country do what she does on a daily basis,” he told the Associated Press. He was right about that.
In fact, the commercial websites are just a part of the new exhibitionism. Influenced by porn, seeking to validate their own sexual allure, and hungry for experimentation, many thousands of people have declared themselves freelance erotic icons whose only payoff is their own sexual satisfaction. They populate photo-sharing sites like Flickr or private group sites hosted by Yahoo!. They give themselves names like “Slutmom.”
“Very sexy pics, very sexy woman, thanks for sharing. We are an early 40ish married committed couple. We have also posted our pics, and we share unblocked pics and vids with other couples? Interested?”
“Just what we both love! U got us both so hot & horny! Great tits and with a perfect pussy! We’re also in 50s, married, discreet, looking for good friends. Let’s trade pix, talk, then? Love, Sue & Bob.”
The porn world has realized that amateur eroticism, less packaged and seemingly more sincere, holds an appeal that the old-style skin flicks do not. Your neighbors could be doing it right now! Sexy Mrs. Dannemeyer down the street might actually be as hot as you imagined! This is the basis for Girls Gone Wild, those videos sold on late-night TV and the Internet, the ones featuring coeds lifting their shirts and dropping their skirts after three Long Island Iced Teas. It has made so much money for the creator, Joe Francis, he is starting a chain of Hooters-like restaurants. A whole new genre of “reality” porn, inspired by the initiative taken by Internet exhibitionists and by TV shows like American Idol where Americans routinely subject themselves to what used to be considered shame but now guarantees you a spot on a talk show if you are abused enough, has flooded the adult industry, so much so that sales of traditional, professionally produced porn movies have slumped dramatically, down over 30 percent in 2006.
Bang Bus is the most successful. Dirty Sanchez roams the streets looking for girls and couples willing to fuck in a van for cash (the performers actually apply in advance and sign contracts and releases before being “discovered” on the street). On the Bang Bus website, Dirty Sanchez provides accounts, blog-style, of each encounter.
German girls are hot. This girls body was smoking. Her ass was sweet and her tits where luscious. From the moment I saw that girl I new she was the one. We picked her up in front of a art museum of all places. I love artsie girls. They give the best head. In my experience they’re really wild in the sack too. All this shit was running through my mind as I tried to figure out what to say to this girl…She was all up on Blumkin five minutes into it. I started talking to Al-B and I turned around and the two of them were making out. Shout out to Blumkin, that nigga moves fast. Shout out to Hialeah. Shot out to my mom. O.K., enough shot outs. Anyway, Back to the hot German chick…
The irregular spelling, capitalization, grammar, and all-around oafishness is deliberate, an attempt to infuse the scene with a gonzo air. Yo! Yo! We’re one of you, dudes.
The Bang Bus movie and its sequels like Bang Boat have been such huge hits that the porn world has been trying to find another series like it. The website Mike’s Apartment features downloadable movies and photos of girls who show up at Mike’s place looking to stay a few days for free, but of course, nothing is free anymore. In the movies and website of Shane’s World, college frat boys sometimes have sex with female porn stars who show up at their parties.
Companies are harnessing this enthusiasm to package new reality formats.
Think You’re Good in Bed? PROVE IT! The Ultimate Sex Championship Begins NOW! Submit Your Amateur Sex Video Today! Hot amateur couples screw for cash! You Could Win $100,000 tomorrow! Cash In On Your Wife’s Perfect Tits! Cash In On Your Husband’s Giant Cock! Compete Against Other Hot Couples for Mega-Booty! Fuck! Suck! Win $100,000 Bucks!
Phil Harvey’s Adam and Eve staged The Search for Adam and Eve à la American Idol, except the winner got a porn contract.
My friends from the Las Vegas XBIZ convention, Zach and Anna, had launched their own company, ZAMediaInc.com. They consider themselves entrepreneurs, and Zach especially, who majored in economics, can recite any number of statistics and excerpts from business models to explain why their company is taking off. They are pleasant, good looking, and smart. But as part of their new business, they began producing their own reality porn production called FuckOrGetFucked.com and advertised it like this:
Not just any slut deserves your load, right? That’s how we feel here at Fuck Or Get Fucked…We make REAL bitches compete for the meat and the hardest-fucking slut gets the wad! These are regular girls, totally amateur and eager to please. These chicks either fuck or get fucked; We eliminate the sloppy sluts and give the money shot to the one that’s worked the cock best. We shoot in Hi-Def and all of our photo sets are Hi-Res, plus we offer multiple video formats for your PC, iPod, PSP & more. Check out some of our latest hoes and then sign up for instant access to see all of the Fuck Or Get Fucked girls in action!
Moffit Timlake has made a small fortune off the desire of everyday folks to show the world they can be erotic players. “These people could literally be your neighbors in the trailer park, and they’re hot!” he tells me as we sit in his office. Moffit and his brother, Farrell, run Homegrown Video, the biggest brand name of their company, Xplor Media. Sixty to eighty individuals and couples every month send homemade DVDs of themselves naked and having sex in hopes of making the cut and being included in one of Homegrown’s series like Handjobs Across America, Horny over 40, and Housewives Unleashed, available for online viewing or sale in DVD format.
These people aren’t your average washouts, with blank eyes and ravaged bodies. Moffit is constantly amazed at how many middle-class, attractive, healthy people want to see themselves in action. As the years go by, the exhibitionists only get better looking, especially the women. Moffit isn’t sure exactly why this is, or even why so many couples want the rest of us to see them coupling, but it’s a fact and God bless ’em, Moffit tells me, using some of the same language as Kathy Brummitt at the Sinclair Institute, because these folks are showing the rest of us the way toward better sex and communication.
Just as the Sinclair Institute and its competitors try to “give permission,” seeing everyday people giving blow jobs, acting out fantasies on the patio, and having sex in public tells the rest of us that all the things we have thought about doing,
but never would do, might be doable after all. Some contributors are probably classic exhibitionists, Moffit says, but these days, who is to say who is an exhibitionist? Aren’t we all exhibitionists now? Even famous people are naughty, so why shouldn’t we have fun, too? “I think it is the whole Pam Anderson tape, the Paris Hilton tape, [former Miss America and onetime nude model] Vanessa Williams, Lindsey, and Britney doing beaver shots,” he says of famous paparazzi photos of the pantyless celebrities. Besides, Paris hangs out with Jenna Jameson these days, which goes to show you, he says, that “people just don’t care anymore. Porn is not that big a deal and I think that is a good thing.”
Moffit thinks many people feel that enshrining their sex into media somehow makes it more real. And if people watch them having sex, all the better, because knowing one’s hotness is appreciated helps you stand out in a mass anonymous crowd. “We have a woman—she and her husband have become regular contributors—who goes into their local video store to make sure her video is stocked and announces to people ‘Hey, that’s my video,’” Moffit says. “She’s really proud.”
Of all the unlikely routes into the American sex industry I have found, the Timlake brothers’ path seems the most unlikely. Both Moffit and Farrell look exactly the way you might imagine they would look if you read their biographies. They both have tousled, dark hair, and a thrown-together preppy style that manages to exude old money without obviously trying. Moffit is an avid golfer, and even in his office he looks as if he just stepped outside a locker room after eighteen holes. Their own names—Moffit? Farrell?—betray their preporn life growing up in a well-to-do family in Connecticut. Both went to boarding school. Farrell, the eldest, attended the Kent School, a redbrick and stone-and-clapboard campus located along the banks of the Housatonic River in northwestern Connecticut. Like Phil Harvey, Moffit studied at Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire. Both moved to California for college, Farrell to Pomona-Pitzer, a small liberal arts school east of Los Angeles, and Moffit to Stanford.
America Unzipped Page 17
