The Hardest (Working) Man in Showbiz

by Ron Jeremy

  My friends have accused me of having narcolepsy. While I’ll admit to occasionally falling asleep in public places, I don’t think a medical condition is to blame. If anything, it has more to do with my hectic schedule. I’m constantly on the move, whether it’s shooting porn or hustling for mainstream work or flying across the country for another stand-up gig. If I slowed down long enough to get a proper six hours of sleep a night, I might not suffer from spontaneous napping. But as it stands, I have to make do with catching a few minutes of sleep wherever I can, whether it’s in an airport terminal or on the set of a porn movie or, most disturbing to anybody who happens to be with me, while driving a car and stopped at a red light.

  The last thing you want to do is throw me into a comfortable chair in a dark room. It’s like slipping me sleeping pills. I’ll be unconscious before the title credit hits the screen.

  I don’t know how long I was asleep before I felt a finger jabbing into my stomach. I jerked awake and saw a red-faced man glaring down at me.

  It was Paul’s agent from UTA (United Talent Agency). “You know, you’re not making your friend look very good,” he whispered angrily. “Paul’s trying to show his movie to some major celebrities, and you’re snoring through it and disturbing everybody.”

  Was I really snoring? I felt horrible. “I’m so sorry,” I said, running a hand across my swollen eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

  He walked back to his seat and within seconds I was asleep again. And this time I wasn’t just snoring. My uvula was making guttural noises that sounded like a phlegmy wind tunnel. It was almost louder than the movie.

  The agent ran back over and shook me until I stopped. “Maybe you should just leave,” he growled at me. “If you can’t stay awake for two goddamn hours, it might be better for everybody if you found someplace else to take a nap.”

  Not the best way to begin a professional relationship.*

  Luckily, Paul never held it against me. I suppose that he realized I had too much to offer Boogie Nights to be put off by a little inappropriate snoring.

  On most of my consulting gigs, I would show up for a day or two on the set and give the director a few notes. But for Boogie Nights, Paul and I got together often, discussing the adult industry and hammering out details. Paul didn’t just want a casual tutoring in porn, he wanted to know everything. He came to several of my sets, watching my every move like an eager student. He interviewed the actresses, chatted with the crew, talked to anybody who had even the smallest job on a porn shoot. I brought him to porn parties, introduced him to retired producers, and got him into the Hot D’Or Awards Show in Cannes, France. I took him and Mike De Luca, the head of New Line Entertainment, to an AVN awards ceremony. I even did some location scounting (the Gourmet studios were used in a few scenes) and I dug through dusty old warehouses, in search of reels of classic films (Paul didn’t want videos or DVDs).

  Paul wasn’t the only one getting a behind-the-scenes education in porn aesthetics. Everyone in the cast was asked to attend at least one porno set. Mark Wahlberg went, as did William H. Macy and Philip Seymour Hoffman. Only Burt Reynolds managed to skip the field trips. As I believe he told Paul, “I know how these films are made. I don’t need to see it.”

  During the Boogie Nights shoot, we were told not to discuss porn with Burt. The only acceptable topics were football or baseball. Burt loved anything athletic, and he could supposedly rattle off statistics or scores like an encyclopedia of sports minutiae. I don’t know how he kept so many numbers in his head. I tried to be friendly and make conversation, but I wasn’t the sports enthusiast he was. I could’ve told him how many pop shots there were in The Opening of Misty Beethoven but not who won the 1964 World Series. Somehow, I don’t think he would’ve appreciated the similarities.

  The female stars of Boogie Nights, Julianne Moore and Heather Graham, were a little more elusive when it came to visiting my sets. Not that they found it offensive or didn’t want to be around porn actors, but their schedules were less predictable than those of the boys. I didn’t get the call that Julianne Moore had a free afternoon until the last minute, and I had to scramble to find a porn shoot for her to watch. I was working on a new movie called Three Foxes and a Dweeb. It was a Revenge of the Nerds for the porn crowd; dorks with glasses having sex with women so far out of their league you couldn’t help but cheer for them. Though we hadn’t planned to film anything on the day Julianne was available, I begged my actors to come in on their day off for a quick scene.

  We rented a hotel room in the Valley, and Julianne arrived just as we were getting started. I’ve got to hand it to Julianne, she was a consummate professional, because the shoot was hardly the most comfortable environment. It was a small room with a king-size bed, so there was barely enough space for the crew to move around unencumbered. Julianne was stuck in very close quarters with the other actors, and she probably got a better look at the sex than she really wanted.

  What’s more, Eric Monti, my lead performer, was not what you’d call the most handsome guy. He was cast specifically for that reason. This was a movie about dweebs, and he fit the bill perfectly: he wasn’t somebody you’d necessarily want to see naked.

  To make matters worse, we were shooting an anal scene, with all the lubes and oils necessary to make everything run smoothly, which made for a rather messy and less-than-visually-pleasing show. Plus, Eric sweats a lot. Paul actually told The Globe (or somebody did) that he worried about losing Julianne after the experience.

  But Julianne, trooper that she was, took it all in stride. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had taken one look at my ragtag group of porn misfits and gone screaming for the hills. But she was nothing but cheerful and courteous, smiling at everybody and trying to stay out of the crew’s way. She thanked me at the end as if I had just given her an early Christmas present. I don’t think for a minute that she enjoyed any of it. I can only imagine that after she left, she took a Karen Silkwood shower, with guys in hazmat suits scrubbing her down with sponges. But she never complained, never made any of us feel like a carny sideshow attraction. She just sat and silently watched the scene and then got the hell out of there.

  Heather Graham had an interesting experience. Actually, it was interesting for both of us. I was starring in a John T. Bone movie called Sodomy Sodo-you, and Paul asked if he could bring Heather by to check it out. I said it would be fine, as I assumed that I would be doing only dialogue during their visit. But then I looked at my schedule for the day and realized, “Aw shit, I’m booked to do a scene!”

  Please take a moment to review my five laws for celebrities visiting a porn set. Take a good, close look at law #1. Ring any bells? Nobody watches me have sex! I had broken my most cardinal law, and it was too late to call Paul back and cancel. Besides, Boogie Nights would be going into production soon, and Paul was eager for Heather to sit in on at least one porno shoot before it was too late. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t get out of it.

  Heather Graham was going to see me naked, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.

  The day’s shoot was taking place at a mountain ranch in the Simi Valley, right down the block from Charles Manson’s old farm on Santa Susanna Pass. It was a beautiful setting for a porn film, with rolling hills and picturesque views. But when Paul and Heather drove up, I knew there was going to be trouble.

  Heather was wearing skates.

  In Boogie Nights, she would be playing Roller Girl, a young porn starlet who never took off her roller skates. Heather was not the most skilled skater, so Paul had instructed her to practice at every opportunity. They both apparently decided that a porn set would be an excellent place for her to work on her balance. But what they didn’t count on was the hilly and uneven terrain of the Simi Valley. The entire ranch was on a slant, which hardly made for the most forgiving skating rink. Paul had at least thought to give Heather some knee pads, but it still seemed like a tragedy waiting to happen.

  But I had other things to worry ab
out. I wasn’t just doing a sex scene today; I was doing an anal scene. Well, if I was going to break my own law, I might as well go all the way and give Heather something she wouldn’t soon forget.

  My partner was a porn vet named Cortnee, and this was far from her first anal scene. I was thankful for at least that much. It would’ve been far worse if I’d been breaking in a new actress. A first-time anal is not pleasant for anyone. Tensions are high, and neither person enjoys the experience very much. But even so, I’m something of an anal sex aficionado—an analinguist, if you will—and I pride myself on putting even the most inexperienced woman at ease.

  Hey, you know what? This seems like a perfect excuse for yet another edition of…

  * * *

  SEX Advice from DR. RON JEREMY

  Part 2:

  ANAL SEX

  The most common mistake made by women during anal sex is sucking in the muscles of their sphincter because they’re afraid that it’s going to hurt. But the thing is, that makes it only more painful. You have to push out like you’re taking a crap. When you suck in, it tightens your muscles, and a guy’s cock has to push through it, stretching the anal walls. But by pushing out, you’re loosening those muscles and making entry less difficult.

  When I tell this to girls, they never believe me. “If I push out, I’m going to take a shit on you.” Well, possibly. But not if you’re in the right position.

  Doggy-style is the best position for inexperienced anal. A girl should be on her stomach, facing forward, with both of her elbows on the floor and her ass up in the air. This way it’s less likely that she’ll make a mess. I’ve seen some really stupid performers who never follow this rule. A girl will come in and say she just had a big Mexican dinner and she’s a little nervous, and then she’ll have anal sex on top of a guy. It’s like she’s sitting on a toilet, so of course she’ll end up making a mess all over his goddamn balls. If a girl’s concerned that she might be a little loose down there, or maybe she had a heavy dinner the night before, I’ll say no problem, we’ll just do doggy. Her chest and elbows are on the ground, with her ass at the highest point in the air, and she never has a problem.

  Now, before you get started, it’s important to do a little foreplay. Have some normal sex before you move on to anal. Make sure that your partner is totally relaxed and aroused. Use a vibrator on her pussy or play with her clitoris. When she’s ready for some anal play, use plenty of lubrication. Slather her asshole with K-Y jelly or Vaseline or Astroglide. I’ve even used Albolene (makeup remover) on occasion when nothing else was available.

  When her sphincter is nice and moist, put one finger inside. Remember, she should be in the doggy position, elbows on the ground and ass in the air. Then put in two fingers. Two fingers is the width of most penises anyway, so you’re already halfway there. It’s important that your nails are very neat and trim. You don’t want to be ripping anything in there. And don’t just ram a finger inside. Gently rub around the outside of her asshole, lubricating the edges. When you do insert your fingers, do it slowly. Put just the tip of your finger inside, then a little more, and then a little more. Ideally, she should also be masturbating during this to further relax the muscles.

  If you spread her cheeks, you’ll notice that there’s a little gape forming. A gape, for those of you who don’t know, is when the anus is stretched open and a little black hole is visible. For some girls, this may be no larger than a pencil eraser. For others, their assholes could rival the Grand Canyon. We make a lot of jokes about the gape in porno, especially in the titles. There was Planet of the Gapes and The Gapes of Wrath. If the gape is wide, you know you’re in great shape. That’s what you want to see.

  After a few minutes of this, you should be ready to begin. Stand up, spread her ass cheeks, and aim your cock toward her sphincter. It couldn’t hurt to have something in her pussy while you’re doing it. I’ve known some porno actresses who say they prefer double penetration to just straight anal. They need to have their pussy stimulated while there’s a guy in their ass. If you don’t have a second cock to work with, a vibrator will usually do the trick, or she could always masturbate.

  And here’s the most important point: let her back her ass into you. A lot of guys think it’s their responsibility to initiate the penetration, but that’s just not true. You should remain almost completely stationary and let her slide her ass onto your cock. It’s the psychological aspect of anal sex. It’s more mental than physical. If she’s the one in control and doing most of the work, it won’t feel so much like an invasion.

  Don’t think that girls don’t like nasty talk. When I’m having anal sex with a girl, I’ve found that a little dirty talk will go a long way. I’ll say something like “I’m in your ass right now. That is so nasty. This is sodomy. This is the bad place. I’m on the Hershey Highway. This is filthy and disgusting. I am ass-fucking you.” Sometimes they love that. It adds to the experience, and makes it seem more like a fun romp than a proctology exam. If they don’t like dirty talk, then just shut up and screw. Whatever the case, if their head’s not in it, their body won’t be either.

  So, to review, here are the six simple steps to achieving successful and pleasurable anal sex:

  1. Elbows to the ground, ass up (the girl, not you)

  2. Lubricate liberally

  3. Insert one finger, then two

  4. The sphincter pushes out rather than sucks in

  5. Let her push back onto you

  6. Keep stimulating her pussy and clitoris

  If none of these tricks work, then you’re outta luck. Give it up. You’re not getting any anal. It happens. Not everybody is built for anal, and we all have very different physiologies. If you’re lucky enough to find a girl whose ass has the elasticity of a rubber band, don’t let her go…

  * * *

  Where was I?

  Ah yes. I’m having anal sex in a movie called Sodomy Sodo-you. Heather Graham is watching while wearing roller skates. Paul was helping to hold her up, and even John T. Bone, the director, ran over to help her keep her balance a few times. As for me, I was too busy doing Cortnee in the keister to notice. Cort was a good sport, actually. She didn’t mind performing in front of Paul and Heather, and she even commented on how young and attractive they both looked. When we finished the sex, Heather asked us a few questions about the scene and then left with Paul.

  I saw Heather at a few SAG award shows, and while the entire cast of Boogie Nights was very warm and happy to see me (especially William Macy, a great guy), Heather would seem a little…well, standoffish. Not as friendly as she used to be.

  Maybe law #1 is just silly. Maybe it’s all in my head, and actors don’t really care if they see me having sex on a porn set. I guess I’ll never know for sure….

  I brought the well-known actress Fairuza Balk to the Boogie Nights premiere in Los Angeles.* After so many months of preparation, it was exciting finally to see the finished product. It was an epic, just as Paul had promised, lasting nearly three hours and never losing its momentum. I can’t say that I (or most of the porn industry) could identify with any of the characters. I’d never been addicted to drugs, never robbed a crime kingpin at gunpoint, never coerced underage kids into having sex. The characters were all based around the John Holmes crowd, but that was where the similarities between Boogie Nights and most of the porn industry ended. But even so, it was a major Hollywood movie! People all over the country would soon be watching it and talking about it, and I had played a small role in making it happen.

  Well, not a role role. I didn’t ever actually appear in the film. Paul had promised me at least a small walk-on part, but somehow it never happened. At first, he cast me as an audience member in a movie theater or nightclub, but he had to cut the scene for length. And then he put me in a prison scene toward the end, when Robert Ridgely’s Colonel character is brutalized by a black inmate. First he made me a security guard, then a warden, and then a prisoner. I’m the Colonel’s cell mate, and I was supposed to
interrupt him from being attacked by another inmate. Paul had me ad-lib some dialogue, but none of it really worked. The scene didn’t make a lot of sense. Why would I be talking so much? When you’re in prison, you make a point of not speaking. But Paul wanted me to say a few lines to spice things up.

  “Is there even any film in the camera?” I asked him.

  “What?” Paul said, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “This has happened to me before. Are you just throwing me a bone and pretending to shoot this scene?”

  “Ronnie, I’d never do that to you. Why are you being so paranoid?”

  I honestly didn’t know. I was just jaded, I suppose. I’d been cut out of films before. The editors told me that my prison scene lasted until the final cut, so I appreciated Paul for the effort.

  As I sat with Fairuza and watched the movie, I saw a lot of my friends in the porn business on-screen. Nina Hartley had a pretty big speaking role. Jane Hamilton, who had given the cast a backstage tour of her porn set, had a great part as a judge in Julianne Moore’s child-custody case. Two big-boobed girls named Summer Cummings and Skye Blue had a lot of screen time in a Jacuzzi scene. Even Little Cinderella had a terrific bit as a party guest who overdoses on laced cocaine. Every one of the porn stars whom I had recommended to Paul was used in the movie somewhere.