by Asa Akira
Misty: “Mine is Bump & Grind. ’Cause you gotta feel that bump, and that grind, baby.”
Kayden: “They named mine the bookworm. My fans know me as just that, and the pattern resembles a worm.” She’s the perfect fucking package. Blond, skinny, gorgeous, smart, and funny.
Me: “My texture is the Dragon. Because I’m Asian.”
Oh, also, I bought Toni a Mercedes for Christmas this morning. Hope I don’t regret it.
December 22
Back in NYC since yesterday, except I’m in fucking Flushing, Queens, until tomorrow for a dancing gig. Toni’s gonna fly in tomorrow morning and then we’ll head to my parents in Brooklyn for the holidays.
During my first show last night, I danced to the Weekends’ “Wicked Games” and I overheard a drunk wiggerish white boy yelling, “Yo, this is the best song I’ve ever heard!” over and over to his other wiggerish friend. It was hilarious.
Also hilarious, there was a sign in the locker room which read:
“Tops must be taken OFF at the end of the 2nd song when you’re on STAGE.
“Anyone who ‘forgets’ will be sent home and/or suspended.”
I took a picture of it. Maybe I’ll start a coffee table book.
December 25
Toni proposed last night!
We had breakfast with my parents, and I guess they knew the whole time . . . Toni talked to them the night before. He did it by the big tree at Rockefeller Center. My ring is fucking gorgeous. AGHH!!! I’m engaged! My mom cried.
December 27
Saw my cousin’s baby last night.
I want one I want one I want one.
Maybe next year.
Heading back home to L.A. tomorrow.
January 1
We got married by Elvis on the thirtieth. We got back to L.A. and decided “Fuck it, let’s just go to Vegas now.” It was fucking perfect and very True Romance-y. Our Elvis cut his chin shaving and had a spot of blood that I couldn’t stop staring at throughout the whole ceremony. I kept thinking, AIDS. I told Toni after and he said he stared at it the whole time, too.
It’s kind of cool to be able to say, “I got married last year,” even though it was only a few days ago. Ha-ha.
January 3
I turned twenty-eight today. I also realized I’ve been on Facebook for seven years. That’s longer than I’ve done anything.
I think I’m getting the flu. I feel like shit. Or maybe it’s just the thought of getting closer to thirty and not being sure what I will do with the rest of my life when I’m too old to shoot porn.
January 5
Definitely have the flu, had to cancel all my upcoming shoots. I did an interview this morning over the phone, though, where I was asked what my most memorable sexual encounter was.
I thought about it for a second, and realized my most memorable sexual experience is a little gay. Not gay as in two people of the same sex banging, but gay like unicorns and rainbows.
It was last year in Cabo. Toni and I were vacationing at an all-inclusive resort, the kind where you pay one flat fee upon arrival, and everything for the rest of your stay is free—meals, drinks, suite, activities . . . did I mention drinks?
On our first night there, we were walking along the beach holding hands (see what I mean by gay?) when we came across a roasting fire. No other people were in sight. I barely had enough time to process that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have sex on the beach, by a fire no less, before Toni pushed me down and threw himself on top of me. He lifted my dress, pushed my panties to the side, spit on his hand to lubricate his hard cock, and shoved it inside me. I moaned loudly; we were in public, but like I said, there was no one in sight. Besides, I wasn’t going to waste this moment and have silent sex. It feels better when it’s loud, and that’s a fact. He made me cum, and when he felt my pussy throb, it made him even harder.
“Cum in my pussy, I need your cum,” I told him.
I clenched my pussy and worked on building my own orgasm to match his.
As he came, I swear to fucking God I saw a shooting star. And then I came one final time.
That magical moment where I saw a shooting star as the man I love came inside of me was definitely my most memorable sexual experience.
Anyways, I ended up telling them about the time I got gangbanged by seven dudes.
January 10
Finally over the fucking flu. Finally shaved my pussy today. As I showered, I was horrified at the state of my bush; I can’t believe I let Toni fuck me like that. A good measure of love in a relationship is how often she shaves her pussy . . . I’ll never let it happen again.
January 11
Had to mail something out for the first time in my life today. I got to the post office before realizing I had no idea how to send out mail. I stood in line and had the lady behind the counter just figure everything out for me. She looked at me like, “What’s your excuse?”
I hope she didn’t fuck it up on purpose. I know how to gracefully handle eleven dicks at once, but I don’t know how to send out mail.
January 15
Heading to Vegas tonight for AVN. I hate packing. I can’t wait to eat a big fat burger when it’s all done.
January 21
Finally back from Vegas. AVN was successful, I won six awards, including Performer of the Year! Yayy! Celebrated that night with a huge burger from room service. Gonna order pizza tonight, hehe. So excited.
January 27
A little late, but better late than never.
Goals:
1) Quit smoking for real.
2) No more pizza. Only once every two weeks, tops.
3) Write a book.
4) Run faster than the MILFs at boot camp.
15
The Other End of the Stick
I texted Dee.
I’m flaking : (
I’m directing a gangbang movie and the main girl can only do it the same day as the reunion.
Saturday, May 3 was supposed to be the day that only comes but once in a lifetime—the highly anticipated (!) ten-year highschool reunion. It just had to coincide with my directorial debut.
I didn’t think I’d care. I didn’t even graduate from that school. But for certain, out of the three highschools I had attended, it was the only one that would be holding such a ceremony.
Did I even have fond memories of that school? Stealing our moms’ prescription pills to crush, then snort in the bathroom. Inhaling Dust-Off in the hallway before entering class. Calling in to the school secretary as each other’s parents to take a “sick” day. It seemed like all the best memories were of escaping the reality of the place.
I told Dee to make sure to text me any good gossip—who’s gay, who’s rich, who’s broke, who’s fat, who’s on drugs, who’s dead.
Then I realized . . . Me. I’m probably the gossip. Guess who’s in porn.
A week later, when I directed the first scene of my first movie, right away I started to appreciate being a performer. So much went into a single production that I had never realized. As a performer, I got to set, sat in the makeup chair for an hour and a half, gossiped with the crew and talent, shot some photos, had mind-blowing sex, and went home. As a director—the production started not on the day of the actual shoot, but days, if not weeks, earlier. And I didn’t even get laid.
Step one was to book the talent. Most girls in the industry have agents. Some of the guys do, too, but for the most part, they book themselves. There are six major agencies in the business, to go-tos. Generally, to be successful in the business, a girl needs to be signed with one of these agencies. On a typical agency website, a girl will have six to ten photos in various stages of nudity, a list of stats like age, ethnicity, height, and weight, and then another list that lists the sexual acts she offers.
When I first joined the business, I was with an agency called GoldStar Modeling, who at the time was one of the biggest agencies. Running GoldStar was Joel, who was a male performer himself. I remember he
made me cry once.
“I’m not comfortable doing bachelor parties—I told you,” I said for the umpteenth time.
“It’s easy, you just go there, dance for a bunch of drunk guys, get paid, and leave. What’s the big deal? You can do porn, but not that? Come on.” Joel mocked me.
I’ve always been easily flustered when pressured, and started crying. “I don’t want to do it and you can’t make me,” I argued like a child.
Ultimately, I didn’t do the gig, but I was under contract with GoldStar for two years before I was finally free to leave and join the Spiegler Girls.
The thing about porn talent agencies is that they will all get you work. Especially when you are new. Every director looks at every agency website, and new girls are always going to get booked—everyone wants to see a new girl. The key to a good agency is that they will continue to get you work over the course of your career. That’s Spiegler. He’s the best, and everyone knows it.
Once the talent is booked, it’s time to find a location. There are several websites that list shooting locations, but many of the locations are mansions booked directly through the homeowner. I always love seeing houses I’ve shot in, used in mainstream productions—I’ll recognize a house in a TV show that I regularly have anal sex in, or a rapper lip-syncing on a sofa I recently squirted on. The best locations have lots of windows with natural light coming in—that way, the penetration is always well lit and looks beautiful.
After that, it’s the boring stuff like getting insurance for the production, hiring one of the makeup artists requested by the performer, preparing the model releases and necessary paperwork for everyone to fill out on set, sending out call-times, and wardrobe requests. On a Gonzo production, the girl usually wears her own clothing. She brings a suitcase full of lingerie, bikinis, and dresses, and together with the director, a decision on the outfit is made.
I’m always interested to see what a girl’s porno suitcase looks like—how she packs it, whether it’s messy, how much of it is used versus new. I think a girl’s suitcase says a lot about her. Some girls throw everything into the suitcase in a tangled mess, with no order whatsoever, the bottoms of their dirty high heels touching the part of their panties that covers the pussy lips. Some girls put all the bras in one bag, and panties in another. I’ve seen a girl who puts everything on a hanger, including bikinis, and then puts all of it into her suitcase.
Personally, I have a lingerie/bikini-only suitcase, which stays permanently in the trunk of my car. I stuff every lingerie/bikini set in its own individual Ziploc bag, so that I don’t misplace anything. I keep a separate duffel bag for shoes only, which stays in my car permanently as well. Everything else, like dresses, schoolgirl outfits, etc., I pack for each individual shoot.
On the day that was supposed to be my highschool reunion, I shot Alexis. Blond hair and huge tits, a person would never guess she was a New York City native, like me.
“You must stick out so much in the city,” I always tell her. New York isn’t like Los Angeles; people aren’t blond, much less with injected lips, and breast/ass implants. Alexis just laughs at this statement and agrees. I think she secretly likes the flashiness of her look. I think I do, too.
Upon opening her suitcase, I noticed Alexis didn’t really pack in an organized matter—there was no apparent plan—but it wasn’t all tangled up in a giant mess, either. Most of her stuff was new, with the tags still on them. I mentally noted to myself to go lingerie shopping as soon as possible.
We chose for her a tight red dress, with nothing underneath. She would be shooting her first-ever gangbang today, and the setting was a sex club; I figured if I were to ever go to a sex club, I would go sans underwear. So commando it was.
“We’re gonna start downstairs with the gloryhole,” I told Alexis as she sat in the makeup chair. “Suck the cock for like literally one minute, then we’re gonna go into another room, where you’ll blow Danny for literally one minute, then walk down a hallway, have sex with John for another minute, then he’s gonna grab you by your hair and bring you to the gangbang room. It’ll all be one continuous shot, and that’ll be the intro. Once we’re in the gangbang room, we’ll cut, get all the boys together and hard, and gangbang with no cuts unless we have to.”
“I’m so excited!” Alexis exclaimed with her eyes closed as her eyelash glue dried.
“I’m kind of jealous!” I admitted in return. Thinking back to my own first gangbang, I remembered I had stated in several interviews it had been the best day of my life. My boyfriend at the time saw one of them, and consequently broke up with me over it.
“Are you still seeing that guy?” I asked Alexis.
“Who? The last guy? In Queens?” Alexis was a New York native like me.
“Yah, last time I saw you, you were with a guy who’s not in the business.”
“Oh, I’m done with him. I’m just trying to be single and do me for now, you know?”
I did know. Having been through a few relationships over the course of my porn career myself, I was fully aware of how rough it was to maintain one. It’s hard to say which is harder—dating someone within the business, or someone outside of it, a “civilian.” Both have their pros and cons. The perks of dating someone who works in porn are obvious: They understand the difference between work sex and home sex. When you do a hardcore double penetration scene in the afternoon, they understand you might be too sore to have sex that night. And, on those rare occasions you catch chlamydia or gonorrhea . . . there’s no embarrassment when you have to go get medicated together. That’s a tough one, when dating a civilian.
“Ummm, hey. I don’t know how to say this, but . . . I have chlamydia. Meaning you probably do, too. So . . . can you come with me to the doctor tomorrow so we can get our pills?”
It’s an awkward conversation that would most likely never happen in any other situation.
However, dating a porn guy isn’t exactly easy, either. The guys you work with every day, those are his friends. Those are the guys he goes out with on Saturday night, the guys he turns to with all of his problems when you two are fighting. If they’re not his friends, he’s constantly running into them anyway on sets and at the gym. And sometimes, you are even having sex with guys he really fucking hates. For the most part, most of them can keep an objective mind about it—but everyone has bad days.
A civilian doesn’t deal with any of this—he is completely on the outside, oblivious to the details of who you are fucking.
The boys started arriving one by one while we shot a little striptease sequence to go in the beginning of the intro. There were seven of them in total. I requested the night before that they all bring a white wifebeater and blue jeans as their wardrobe. Every one of them wore their sex outfit to set, which made me envious; changing in and out of wardrobe was my least favorite part of porn. If I could roll out of bed, hop in the shower, put on an outfit, and stay in that outfit the whole day—only to take it off during sex—my job would be completely perfect.
Once we shot the intro, we took a break. Everyone smoked their last cigarettes, baby-wiped their balls, and did whatever they needed to get their dicks hard.
What followed was a perfect gangbang scene. Alexis started on her knees, crawling down the line of hard cocks, stopping to give each one some alone time with her mouth. At the end of the line, she climbed on top of Prince, sitting on his dick to ride him. Almost as if on cue, the other guys came swarming around the action, throwing their hands in to touch whatever they could: a tit, her face, her clit, whatever. We only cut once. She stayed airtight for about three-quarters of the scene, meaning she had all three of her holes—her mouth, pussy, and ass—filled. At the end, she took two loads in her pussy, and the rest on her face and mouth.
I was jealous. I went home wondering if directing porn was even right for me. It seemed like the shitty end of the stick—more work, less pay, and I didn’t even get to orgasm at the end of it. While shooting, I found myself resenting the fact I wasn’
t in front of the camera. That should have been me getting double-penetrated while being choked out. That should have been me at the center of attention of all the guys, begging for them to call me a slut.
And I missed my highschool reunion for it.
The next day, I went in to sit with the editor to start on postproduction of the scene. As I put the intro together, and started to see my vision come alive—a girl’s journey through a seedy sex club, performing different sexual acts in different private rooms, until ultimately entering the gangbang room, where seven guys were waiting to fuck the shit out of her—I got turned on, in a way I hadn’t before. I had put all of this together. It was gratifying, seeing Alexis like that, the look of such ecstasy on her face—all in a scenario I had envisioned. It was real now, right in front of my eyes, on the computer screen. Soon people all over the world would be jerking off to the inside of my brain. It was pretty cool.
Needless to say, when I got home from shooting the second scene a few days later, I felt differently. I felt happy, satisfied, and excited for my future as a director. When Dee texted me, asking how my shoot went, I told her it had been worth missing our reunion. And I meant it.
A Breakup Letter
August 9, 2013
I should state right away that this is a breakup letter. For the last six beautiful years, you’ve taken care of me. You’ve watched me grow up, really. When you met me, I was just a young girl who didn’t know much. I’m a woman now. You taught me so much about love, life, sex, and myself.
What I mean is, it’s not you, it’s me.
It just feels lately like . . . I’m outgrowing you. We both knew when we got together, that this wouldn’t last forever. Yet somehow, around year two or three of this magical relationship, I managed to make myself forget that. You made that easy, with your wild and reckless ways. I got wrapped up in the thrill of the relationship, the excitement of it all. You were always so good at exciting me. Remember the time I first took it in the butt for you? I was so nervous! I hadn’t done it much before you, and you were a perfect gentleman about it. You let me do it at my own pace, in my own way.