A porn producer I know (r) has an anecdote that, since I didn’t confirm the allegations with the other parties involved, I am forced to relate alegebraically:
“So we start shooting at (x)’s house and she says, ‘Am I doing anal today?’ and we said ‘No,'” he said.
“Don’t you book scenes with an understanding of which holes you will be filling?” I asked, as America’s Beloved Porn Journalist.
“Yes. And (x) knew that. So (y) walks in and starts fucking her, and then he starts fucking her in the ass!“
“What did you do? Did you use a crowbar to get him out of there?”
“I wasn’t in the room.”
“OK.”
“But wait, there’s more. Then he pulls out and shoves his dick in (z)’s mouth, and (z) was there to do a non-sex scene!”
“OK.”
“At the end of the day, (x) gives me a bill for $1300 for an anal scene and (z) wants a hundred extra for the blowjob.”
“They bill you? Do they have a little QuickBooks setup there?”
This reminds me of the rogue windshield cleaners in New York City that America’s Mayor cracked down on; they would wash windshields without asking motorists at a traffic light, then they would spit all over the windshields if the drivers didn’t pay.
The difference, of course, is – and this is in the Bible, I think – : you can’t unfuck your ass.
So if (r) equals Ron Royster, are you surprised?
(This photo of Alisha Tyler’s ass from Rico Strong’s Back Shots has nothing to do with the incident, but I love the picture.)
Previously: “Now I’ve seen everything”; Ron Royster: Escape from the Valley of the Dutch!
See also: Eroticist Films
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