My parents had tossed me out after the found out I had given some pot to my little sister. Actually, it had been more than that – I was a bad influence for a lot of reasons – but that was the last straw. I dropped out of school and tried waitressing, but it was pretty obvious from the start that I didn't have the memory or the temperament. I got fired and couldn't find any other work. There wasn't much out there for a high school drop out with no skills.
I went on government assistance – it seemed like everyone in my part of the country was on the dole – but there was so little money and sitting on my ass at home was just so boring. I figured out that if I hung out at bars I could get boys to buy me alcohol – but that was dicey as I wasn't 21 yet. When I didn't get thrown out, too often the boys wanted me to go home with them or to a local motel, and often I went.
One time I fell asleep in a motel room after having a lot to drink in the afternoon followed by some fairly athletic sex. When I woke up, the man I had been with was gone but he had left a $50 bill on the nightstand. I discovered a new profession that day – and a lucrative one. I worked the lot at the local truck stop and the truckers were a steady source of income, but it was a small town and the cops got to know me quick. It was only a matter of time before I got busted.
"Get out of town or go to jail." The judge delivered the message to me in his private chambers. As quick as I could wipe my chin and button my blouse I was out of there. I packed my bags and set off to the nearest big city where I hopefully wouldn't be so obvious in my chosen profession.
Bigger city and I found hooking was easier, but soon enough I was in legal trouble again This time I did 30 days in the county and when I got out, I could add a record to my lack of a high school diploma or job skills. I seriously thought about killing myself that day. It was a new low for me.
That was when I got a proposition from a guy who met me right outside the jail while I was waiting for a bus back to the city. "Did I want to make a movie?" I think he asked any decent looking girl who was walking out of the jail the question and most looked at him like he was scum but didn't dare slap him as no one wanted to go straight back to jail on an assault charge. I told him I was listening if he was buying a drink – and we were quickly in a back booth at a local bar.
Back then, the video tape recorder was a new thing and the internet wouldn't arrive for a quarter century or so. Adult video was a booming industry, and was constantly looking for new faces, and people were making real money doing porn. There were a few big producers, but most of the work was done by small studios and even guys working out of their garage with a camera. It was impossible not to know it was out there as Deep Throat had finally made its way to theatres in the Midwest. Porn stuff was everywhere – even in a nowhere town like the one I was living in.
This guy at least had a studio and a real cast – which kind of guaranteed I would at least get paid and probably wouldn't find myself k**napped and ****d. It wasn't a big operation so it probably wasn't going to lead to fame and fortune, but my landlord had given me an eviction notice and it was enough to find a new place to live. He said it would at least $1000 – maybe more – and we made arrangements to meet the next day.
I met the producer and his "money man" at an office in an old warehouse on the bad side of town. They handed me $50 and told me to get naked. I did. That was as much screen test as they needed, and they gave me the pitch. I'd be in two scenes and I'd be expected to "perform" with both men and a woman. The movie would probably be seen by thousands of people and if it took off or got big or famous, my share of the windfall would be exactly zero.
"You probably ain't going to be a star honey, but in a few years, this flick will be lost to history and no one will ever remember it. You can marry some guy or go get a job and no one will be the wiser. Now you going to stay or go?"
I was broke and had nowhere to go. It seemed like it might be a way out. I was offered $1300 – a fortune at a time when minimum wage was less than $3 an hour. It was a "take it or leave it thing" and I took it. I figured I might regret it but didn't see any other options. I really had no choice but to say yes.
Once I agreed to do it, I actually felt better and didn't second guess myself. I'd actually been good in the drama classes in school and got parts in a few high school plays before I'd gotten mixed up with boys and drugs. It was this or back to hooking, and if I was going to be sucking cock I might as well make good money for doing it.
So I reported for work that day and they sat me down in a chair and had a make-up girl go at it. She did everything from cut my hair and whiten my teeth to shaving my legs, puss and asshole. I got some pretty lace underwear to wear which she told me I got to keep. I met a few of the crew members and for the most part they weren't creeps. It felt pretty good. Then I sat down with the director who gave me info on my part of the movie.
I was going to play a groupie in the video and my "motivation" was that I was trying to get back stage to meet my idols. Just a hand full of lines to remember and the rest was "improvised." The cast had been checked for STD's he said. (Which I didn't believe as no one had even asked me about my own health. But we didn't have things like AIDS yet – so I figured a shot of penicillin might be needed. It had happened before.). The whole thing would take maybe 4 hours if everything went right, and if I had a good attitude, he'd throw $100 on top just to make it worth my while.
In the first scene, I was to have sex with a security guy so he'd let me back stage. He controlled the door and he was going to tell me to throw him a fuck or he wouldn't let me in. The security guy had seen his share of groupies and he was going to be hard to please so I was going to have to spread some serious ass or I wouldn't be going backstage. That was the while set up and there really wasn't much scripted dialogue.
When I arrived on the set, I was a little put off by how hokey the whole thing was. Totally low rent – no money spent on anything. The security guard was just a big guy in a yellow windbreaker that said "Security" printed on the back and the door I was trying to get rough literally said "Backstage" painted on it. The costume I was given wasn't much better. It was a mini-skirt and paisley blouse, funky rose colored glasses and these huge high heels. I looked cute in it – but it was so over the top. I said something to the wardrobe guy about it and he reminded me I wouldn't be wearing them for long.
I remember I wasn't scared or particularly embarrassed about what was coming. Pretty much everything I knew I had to do I had done for money though never with the camera on. I was committed to the idea that I was going to make this work and I psyched myself up to do a good job on that scene.
I played my part as good or better than I think they would have hoped. I was eager to get in, bummed that the security guy was being such a downer, and ready to do what it took to get behind that door. I got huffy. I got flirty. I got on my knees and begged. I played my role solid and I could feel that I was better than the stage I was on. It gave me confidence and I really played on it.
My "co-star" in the scene was also actually a pretty good actor and he was hung like a horse to boot. He berated me. He belittled. He acted like he wasn't interested while he forced that horse cock down my throat until my eyes watered.
They stopped the action periodically to adjust the camera as we changed positions. Even during the cuts he didn't break character. He called me a whore, gutter trash and worse. He was doing everything possible to treat me like garbage and unworthy and so finally I felt a need to fight back.
After a particularly shitty line where he basically told me I wasn't worthy of swallowing his spunk, I spit out his cock told him it was a shame that his big dick was attached to a bigger dick, which got a big laugh from the crew. The producer stopped the filming until the laughter calmed down, told me it was a great line and we went back to filming.
He acted angry after I delivered that line. He might actually have really been pissed – I don't know – but his actions got rougher and there was slapping and spitting and all kinds of abuse after that. They had given me a lot of lube before the scene, and also a lot of drugs, so I was more than ready for whatever Mr. Security Man decided to do next. He went to town just slamming it into me - but I really didn't care. After all, if you read the script you knew I wasn't there to see him; I was there to see rock stars.