Dick Longg: Sexual Saviour of the Universe

by Mark Leigh

  Dick Longg: Sexual Saviour of the Universe

  Mark Leigh

  “1984 meets Debbie Does Dallas.”

  Dick Longg is one of the most energetic and in-demand adult film stars in Hollywood. A man who has everything. Women, money, fame. His life is complete — and lived only for himself.

  Until one day a woman from the future suddenly materialises in front of him pleading desperately for his help.

  She has travelled back in time 2050.

  A powerful cabal known as the New Victorians have imposed their puritanical values on society. Sexual feelings are repressed and impure thoughts purged before they can be acted upon. It is Dick’s worse nightmare — a future where the only thing stiff is an upper lip.

  A reluctant Dick is forced to travel to this future where he becomes a member of the resistance movement with an invented past and a new identity. His fight, however, is not just with the ruthless government; he has to wage a constant battle against his rampant libido, which would reveal his true self.

  Dick Long: Sexual Saviour of The Universe is a brilliantly funny sci-fi comedy thriller — certain to appeal to fans of comedy, science fiction and adventure stories.

  Mark Leigh

  DICK LONGG

  Sexual Saviour of the Universe

  CHAPTER 1

  Dick S. Longg? Of course, that wasn’t his real name.

  That was Harvey Pupkiss.

  You got someone called Harvey Pupkiss to submit your tax return, take out an impacted wisdom tooth or perform stand-up in a New York comedy club. You didn’t get someone called Harvey Pupkiss to fuck women on camera, which is why Harvey changed his name. The ‘S’ as his middle initial? That followed in the grand tradition of Ulysses S. Grant, Harry S. Truman and Hunter S. Thompson, although in Dick’s case it stood for ‘Schlong’. The usual response on hearing this was, ‘Dick Schlong Longg? That’s a mouthful!’

  And indeed it was.

  As one of the best endowed, most accomplished porn stars in L.A, if not the world, Dick’s sideboard groaned under the weight of his ten Golden Clitorises, eighteen Dildos and the coveted Palme d’Orgasm — not forgetting his lifetime achievement award for oral sex, the ‘Linda’. If there was an industry award or accolade to be won, then Dick had won it. What’s more, he wasn’t ashamed of calling himself a porn star unlike many of his more pretentious colleagues who talked about being in the ‘Adult Entertainment Industry’. To Dick, this was like calling a vibrator an ‘oscillating internal cavity stimulatory device’.

  Success meant he really did have it all. There was the 6,000 sq. ft. duplex apartment overlooking the San Fernando Valley complete with two hot tubs, one very hot tub and one tub the exact same temperature of amniotic fluid. He owned a lemon yellow Ferrari 430 and a midnight black Hummer H2 (with the vanity plate 'Humongous'), plus a stunning beachfront holiday home in Aruba.

  But apart from all the trappings of wealth Dick enjoyed other non-financial benefits; the endless stream of lithe, busty women that came into his life as much as he came into theirs. With his reputation preceding him and his rugged good looks (think ‘Owen Wilson’ but a bit taller and without the broken nose), Dick found picking up women as simple as getting a hard-on. In his line of work beautiful women were easy to meet and generally easy, and they all seemed cast from the same mould. These were women who’d spent more time French polishing their nails than they had in full-time education; who moved their lips while they read TV Guide, and who still insisted on drawing a smiley face or flower as a dot for the letter ‘i’ (or lower case ‘j’). While they made great bed mates they couldn’t make great conversation but that didn’t bother Dick. He was more interested in what went on between the sheets than between their ears. All Dick wanted was instant gratification, not a girlfriend.

  Sure, on the face of it, if this is what you want from life then porn seems like exactly the right business to be in: being paid to be filmed having sex with a wide variety of stunning women. In reality though, the novelty rapidly wears off and the whole thing quickly turns into Just Another Job. Well, maybe that’s overstating it a bit since most jobs don’t involve you being intimate with three different beautiful girls simultaneously, two of them ex-Playmates of the Year and the other a 19-year-old Ukrainian gymnast — but you get the point.

  Dick had been asked about this time after time in interviews; how can he enjoy sex that must be mechanical, almost a reflex act rather than anything undertaken with great consideration, let alone passion? Dick didn’t mind this at all and had gone on record saying that unlike many celebrities, he was totally fulfilled doing what he did best. He had no interest in doing anything more worthy with his life, whether it was helping displaced Somalian refugees, campaigning to stop the deforestation of the Amazon delta or saving the white tufted orang utan. Well, with millions in the bank and an unfeasibly large sex organ, he thought, why would you?

  His penis? It’s fair to say that Dick had become particularly blasé about it. To him, his endowment was, quite literally, a tool of his trade and unlike most of his rivals, he could always be relied upon to perform on cue without any artificial stimulants or aids. If you know anything about the porn industry at all, then you know the most important thing for any male performer is his ability, as they say in the business, to ‘get wood’. Dick could get wood on demand and not just your lowly balsa or ply; we’re talking about the mighty oak or majestic redwood.

  His unique physiology meant he had absolutely no need for Viagra, Cialis, Stonkodextrin, ErectoMore, Whang-Gel, acupuncture, hypnosis, vacuum pumps, rubber bands or even the inflatable penile implants that several of his colleagues were rumoured to rely on. In fact, it was said that Dick’s penis was so dependable you could set your watch by it, although this would of course have been a very odd, and a considerably unhygienic thing to do.

  Dick’s first paid job was in The Bitches of East Dick, a poorly-produced film in which there was an inverse relationship between the size of his fee and the size of his manhood. Dick wasn’t happy, but understood that that sort of exploitation came with the territory. He knew he had to pay his dues on the way to becoming a serious player. Within a few months he was being offered roles in better produced, better financed movies including Laying Private Ryan, Thighs Wide Shut and Schindler’s Fist, and was soon getting both a fee and a small percentage of net.

  The physical demands of the job and a propensity for early burn-out meant the life of a porn star was relatively short, falling somewhere between that of a May fly and a boy band. That’s why, to maximise his future earnings Dick made the move into production; that’s where the money was.

  The first films he wrote, produced and starred in were a series of porno bible exploitation films: Go Down Moses, Resurrection, The Second Coming and the most controversial of all, Mary Does Bethlehem. These caused a real stir in the market and also among the god-fearing folk of America’s mid-west. There were mass burnings of his movies in Des Moines, Wichita, Oshkosh and numerous other silly-sounding places but this, quite literally, just fanned the flames of publicity; it was especially helpful because to enable them to burn his DVDs, angry citizens had to buy them first. A combination of the earnings form this series and the fact that Dick was one of the few performers in the industry whose income didn’t disappear up his nose enabled him to buy up a small distribution business. The rest, as authors who like using clichés say, is history.

  Nowadays Dick made the films he wanted to, working with the cast and crew he liked and trusted. OK, ‘liked’ was too strong a word; ‘tolerated’ was probably better. He hired them for their professional skills and ability to get the job done in time and on budget.
Their personalities and egos? Well, he accepted those as well. Although ‘suffered’ would be far more appropriate.

  Most people in the porn industry acted like they were serious actors. One particular girl Dick had worked with had a laughable sense of self-importance, behaving as if she was the Meryl Streep of the blow job. In reality the only thing she and her famous namesake had in common were that they’d both appeared in films called Sophie’s Choice, although one was about a concentration camp survivor and one was about a gangbang. Most directors also suffered from a similar sense of inappropriate self-worth and Dick was currently working with one of these. Ron DiBargi was a larger than life character that would never tire of telling people how he learned his craft in the film biz while working for Scorsese and Coppola. What Ron failed to tell anyone of course was that he was referring to Sal Scorsese and Mario Coppola who ran an adult movie theatre on 42nd Street in the late 1970s. Ron had been their projectionist.

  This particular day Dick was working with Ron on the set of Thrust ‘Til You Bust, the last of the awesomely successful Phallus In Wonderland trilogy that Dick had created. It was being filmed in a mansion that was as tastelessly decorated as it was cavernous. Dick was just finishing the de-rigueur jacuzzi scene with his co-star Alpine Peaks, having successfully negotiated his way around her every orifice. Three times. (Actually, he wasn’t sure whether technically an ear constituted an orifice but he thought ‘What the hell!’ and went for it anyway). Dick had worked with Alpine many times since she was one of the few porn actresses who could match his sexual stamina as well as having a remarkable vaginal capacity. Despite this, he still managed to bring tears to her eyes at the same time as a smile to her lips. With a final groan and a grunt he delivered the coup de grace — or what the industry euphemistically refers to as the ‘money shot’. Dick certainly shot something over Alpine and although it wasn’t money, he knew he gave his viewers great value.

  ‘OK… and cut!’, Ron yelled, adding, ‘After those close-ups check there’s no hair in the gate!’.

  The crew cracked up. It might have been the oldest gag on the porn film set but it never failed to get a laugh. Partly, Dick thought, to relieve the tension but mainly, he felt, to relieve the boredom.

  ‘All clear!’ came the camera operator’s reply moments after he’d watched the playback.

  ‘Great work people. It’s a wrap’, shouted Ron. ‘Take a break everyone but be back in twenty for the re-shoot of Mojo’s scene. And make sure no one spooks the friggin’ monkey this time!’. Turning to Dick Ron added, ‘Another great performance Dick. Don’t know how you keep it up!’

  Cue more laughter from the crew. Dick found this joke funny the first time but after hearing it for the two hundred and eighty-first time it was wearing as thin as an ultra-lite gossamer condom. And if that wasn’t annoying enough, Ron finished the sentence by making a gun with his fingers and pointing it at Dick, simultaneously winking and making a clicking noise. Dick hated it when anyone did that. Really hated it. After all, it was his own signature greeting. Returning the gesture out of politeness, Dick took his robe from one of the smiling fluffers at the side of the set, whose services he had never, ever required, and strolled to his luxurious trailer parked on the driveway for a well-earned rest. Letting the door close gently behind him Dick grabbed a bottle of chilled Cristal from the table, running his forefinger up its cool, slender neck before slowly filling an elegant champagne flute. After taking a particularly long and satisfying sip of the nectar of the gods (as Dick called it) he felt exceptionally mellow and sank into a very forgiving soft white leather couch.

  The trailer was Dick’s refuge, his sanctuary and, save for the soothing hum of the air conditioner, his Quiet Place. Moments of nothingness like this had to be savoured. Dick had a gruelling schedule that made most Third World training shoe factory workers look like slackers. He had six more scenes to shoot that day including the double penetration climax where, through post-production trickery, he played both himself and his clone (a first in porn films and a sure-fire award winner).

  The day after that he was jetting off to the Florida Keys for two days to shoot Key Large-O, and then up to New Orleans to film Mardi Gras Gang Bang (subtitle: ‘the biggest blow job since Hurricane Katrina’). Then it was back to L.A. to check the final edit of Thrust. Dick thought he had time off after that but he couldn’t be sure, but the day after he had to be in Vegas to make a personal appearance at Sexpo, the sex industry’s annual trade show. Here he hoped to sign a deal with a new Asian film distributor. Apparently Dick was ‘big in Japan’ but then that didn’t surprise him at all.

  Lying here, savouring the soothing effects of the champagne, Dick closed his eyes and thought back to his youth when porn was something found under your dad’s bed rather than a career choice. He’d been big for his age throughout childhood but in those carefree days he’d learned about his endowment the hard way; that as well as being a novelty it could also be a liability. At junior high an embarrassing ‘Show and Tell’ session resulted in his suspension and subsequent transfer. The same thing happened at high school after it was discovered he’d been charging friends of both sexes to see it in order to supplement his allowance. Dick was more appreciated at college. After his first semester he’d bedded twenty-eight different girls and three female teachers including the vice principal. Needless to say, he graduated cum laude.

  Immediately afterwards Dick landed a job in the ‘legitimate’ film industry, in the marketing & publicity department of a large Hollywood studio. One of his tasks was writing the taglines for film posters, the pithy slogans that sell the premise of the movie. Dick had been quite adept at this; his favourite was his work on ‘Colorways’, a gangster thriller set in the world of interior design (‘Today it’s soft furnishings but tomorrow it’s curtains!’). Even though movie marketing wasn’t the most challenging job in the world Dick had been quite content trying to make a career out of it. It was only due to an ex-girlfriend who knew a cameraman who knew a make-up artist who knew a producer who knew a casting agent who knew a director who knew a golden opportunity when he saw it, that he’d got into the whole porn thing. (NB. In case you’re wondering, the term ‘knew’ is used in the biblical sense).

  As Dick continued reminiscing, a woman appeared. Normally this wouldn’t be unusual but on this particular occasion it was, since she materialised right out of thin air accompanied by the sound of static, the sweet, sickly smell of ozone and the more pleasant odour of rose-scented perfume. The severe shock caused Dick to temporarily lose both his voice and his balance and he fell off the couch. He tried to compose himself and say, ‘Who are you and what do you want?’ but all that came forth from his lips was a rather high pitched, garbled, ‘Hoowhayoowan?’.

  The woman however, was far more composed. She looked Dick straight in the eye and introduced herself with a cut glass English accent.

  ‘Mr. Longg, my name is Alice. I’ve come here from the year 2150’.

  CHAPTER 2

  There’s something very disconcerting about a woman materialising right in front of you. It’s even more alarming when the woman who’s doing the materialising tells you that she’s from the future.

  Dick looked her up and down. Alice was in her mid-twenties, attractive with an ample bosom but any hint of sexuality was being inhibited by a starched white blouse buttoned up to her slender, pale neck and a voluminous dark brown-coloured corduroy skirt that concealed any suggestion of the rest of her figure. Her skin looked like fine porcelain giving the impression that if you pushed her over, she’d break. She carried a rather formal-looking suede bag and the overall impression was one of a prim and proper Victorian nanny. For the second time in as many minutes Dick’s mouth made random shapes but failed to form any recognisable words. Alice took advantage of this situation, as she knew it wouldn’t be long before Dick regained the power of speech and/or movement and either called security or seduced her. Either way she would fail in her mission and time was of the esse
nce.

  ‘Mr. Longg’, she continued, by now crouching over him as he remained prone. ‘My sudden appearance here has put us both in very grave danger. I need you to listen to what I have to say. My story will, no doubt, seem very far-fetched but please hear me out’.

  As the mysterious woman spoke, Dick began to regain his composure and his motor skills. He hadn’t been this spooked since that fateful day during filming three years ago when he lost his erection after only fifty minutes although in his defence, he had been suffering from both a bad case of debilitating flu and from being accidentally kneed in the testicles in a previous orgy scene. Slowly getting up up, Dick reached for the bottle of chilled champagne.

  ‘Mr. Longg!’

  ‘Call me Dick’, he responded, unsubtly opening his robe a little.

  ‘I must have your full attention!’, Alice commanded, looking at him sternly. ‘Are you aware of H G Wells?’.

  ‘Of course I have. Everyone knows Harry Wells, the director of “Forest Hump” and “Saturday Night Beaver”.’

  ‘No! The Victorian British author’. Alice could see that this was going to take longer than she had imagined, and longer than she had.

  ‘Ah. That H G Wells’, Dick nodded, faking his knowledge of nineteenth century literary greats. ‘Yes, I am aware of his work’.

  Alice didn’t believe him for one minute and sighed. ‘He wrote “The War of the Worlds”.’

  ‘“The Whore of the Worlds”? I starred in that!’

  Alice ignored him. ‘“The Shape of Things To Come…”’

  ‘I was in that one too!’

  It was all Alice could do to stop herself slapping him. Instead, she grabbed the lapels of his robe and drew him to within a few inches of her face.