I had been working in adult movies for a little over a month, and my first two films were finally about to be released. Hollywood Hookers 3 was coming out on video Tuesday, September 29, while the world premiere of Getting It On was happening Saturday, September 26, 1987, at eight o'clock at the Pussycat Theater.

I must confess that it feels like a lifetime since I made those films. Since the cameras stopped rolling on my second picture, I'd been working pretty much nonstop. One movie turned into another, which turned into yet another. Most mornings, I'd wake up, check my calendar, and head to whatever set Jim had booked me on that day.

I'd known there was an adult film business. I'd watched enough porn to know some of its biggest stars. What I hadn't expected was how quickly I'd become part of it. A little over a month earlier, nobody in the industry had any idea I existed. Now I was working almost every day, producers were requesting me by name, and my first movies hadn't even come out yet.

Over the next few weeks, I worked with some of the biggest starlets in the business. I did two scenes with Samantha Strong and several with Erica Boyer and worked more than once with Heather Wayne, Kelsey Lynn, and Debbie. I even lost my black-girl cherry to Angel Cash before doing an electric scene with her and Raven.

The one woman who continued to evade me was Tracey Adams. We worked on several of the same movies and spent plenty of time together on set, but somehow we never had a sex scene. At first, I figured it was just a coincidence. Eventually, I asked Jim South when he was going to book us together.

“Never,” he said.

“Why?” I asked.

Jim looked at me like I should've already known, as he said, “You're on her do-not-fuck list.”

That was the first time I'd heard there was such a thing. More importantly, I wanted to know what the fuck I'd done to get on it.

Jim laughed as he said, “Nothing. She thinks you’re cute. Charming, even.”

I had a confused look on my face as I asked, “Then what’s the problem?”

He glanced down at me, chuckled, and said, “You’re too well-endowed. Unless you figure out how to shave a few inches off that thing, it’s never going to happen.”

I stared at him and loudly asked, “So I’m being rejected because my dick is too big?”

“You’re not being rejected,” he said sternly. “Don’t focus on her; focus on the girls who want to work with you.”

I remained on Tracey’s do-not-fuck list for the next two years. The funny thing was, during that time, we became really good friends. We worked on plenty of the same movies, hung out between scenes, and constantly joked about the fact that she was apparently willing to do everything with me except the one thing we were both getting paid to do.

Then, in October 1989, she finally changed her mind.

Naturally, no one wanted to waste such a momentous occasion. A producer decided our first scene together deserved an entire movie built around it.

The title? Tracey Loves Tommy. Subtlety wasn't exactly our industry's strongest quality.

Neither were performers’ egos. So far, with the exception of Peter North, everyone I'd worked with had been pretty chill. People got along. Nobody seemed particularly impressed with themselves, and most of the time, making a movie felt like a bunch of friends screwing around while somebody happened to have a camera pointed at them. Not to sound cliché, but we were like one big dysfunctional family.

I was beginning to think that was simply how the adult-film business worked.

Then I showed up on the set of Bruce Seven’s newest video, Taija’s Fantasies, for 4-Play Video.

That was the day I met Ron Jeremy.

When I arrived at the house in Burbank, Taija was already sitting in the makeup chair. She smiled when she saw me, but before I could say hello, Ron's voice came booming from the next room. I could hear him scream, “No. Absolutely fucking not.”

Taija looked at me through the mirror and started laughing.

“What's so funny?” I asked inquisitively. 

“You'll see,” she said, while trying to contain her laughter.

A few seconds later, Ron stormed into the room with the director following closely behind him. The moment he saw me, he pointed in my direction and shouted, “There. That's exactly what I'm talking about.”

I looked behind me, half expecting someone else to be standing there.

“Me?” I asked with a bewildered look on my face.

“Yes, you,” he screamed.

I had absolutely no idea what I'd done. Ron then turned back to Bruce and screamed, “I’m not doing a scene with him.”

“Why the fuck not?” he asked.

Ron looked at me, then back at him.

“You know why,” Ron said as he got into the director's face.

Taija was practically biting her lip to keep from laughing.

“Actually, Ron, I don't,” Bruce replied.

“Bullshit,” Ron screamed. "You put the two of us in the same scene, and who's everybody going to be looking at?”

“Taija, hopefully,” Bruce yelled.

That finally made her lose it.

Ron wasn't laughing as he said in a demanding tone, “I'm serious. It's either him or me.”

The room suddenly got quiet.

I'd been working in the business for barely a month, and Ron Jeremy had been doing it for years. As far as I was concerned, there wasn't even a decision to make. I grabbed my jacket.

“It's cool,” I said. “I'll go.”

“Nobody's going anywhere,” the director replied.

Ron crossed his arms and screamed, “Then make a choice.”

That was the moment I realized the situation had nothing to do with whether Ron liked me. We'd barely spoken. He simply didn't want to share the screen with someone who might make his dick look less impressive.

Bruce stared at Ron for a few seconds, probably hoping he'd change his mind.

Ron didn't.

“It's him or me,” he repeated.

The director sighed as he said, “Fine. It's Tommy.”

I honestly thought he was joking.

Apparently, so did Ron.

“What?” Ron yelled.

“You gave me an ultimatum," Bruce calmly said. “I'm choosing Tommy.”

Ron looked at me like I'd somehow engineered the entire situation. I hadn't said a fucking word.

“You're replacing me with a kid who's been doing this for a hot second?” Ron screamed.

“I'm replacing you because you're refusing to do the scene,” Bruce yelled. “I’m replacing you because you’re acting like a bitch.”

Ron shook his head, grabbed his things, and stormed toward the door. Before leaving, he turned around, looked directly at me, and yelled, “This isn't over.”

I remember thinking, “What the fuck did I do?”

The answer was nothing. I'd shown up for work. Apparently, that was enough.

Once Ron left, Bruce had another problem. The scene had been built around three performers, and now we were missing one. He disappeared to make some calls while Taija and I sat around waiting to find out whether we were still shooting.

That’s not the whole truth. We didn’t really spend the whole time waiting. The majority of it was spent making out.

Taija and I had been flirting with each other since the night we met after Hollywood Hookers 3. She'd made it pretty obvious that she wanted to work with me, and I wasn't exactly trying to discourage her. Somehow, despite appearing in several of the same movies, nobody had gotten around to putting us together.

Taija was twenty-six and about five-foot-five. Earlier in her career, she'd been a fuller-figured brunette, but by 1987 she'd entirely changed her look. She'd lost weight, toned up, and dyed her hair blonde. She was slim, with a fantastic body, an expressive face, and a mischievous smile that usually meant she was either about to say something filthy or ask me another question. And Jesus Christ, could she kiss.

Over the years, I kissed thousands of women, so naturally, I eventually developed a top ten. Debbie was number one. Nobody ever knocked her out of that spot. Amber Lynn was second, followed by Taija Rae, Samantha Strong, Nina Hartley, Erica Boyer, Kelsey Lynn, Angel Kelly, Shanna McCullough, and Gail Force.

Before anyone starts writing me an angry letter, the list constantly changed. Women moved up. Women moved down. Occasionally, somebody came along and knocked another woman completely off the list. Debbie never moved, though. She remained number one, and Taija spent most of her career somewhere near the top.

Taija kissed like she meant it. There was none of that mechanical porn kissing where two people mashed their faces together because the director wanted something for the camera. She'd grab the back of my neck, pull me toward her, and completely lose herself in it.

Eventually, she pulled away and smiled as she said, “You know I've been trying to work with you since the night we met.”

“You have?” I asked.

“Why do you think I kept asking you all those questions?” she asked in between kisses.

“I thought you were nosy,” I said while chuckling.

“I am nosy,” she replied before kissing me again. “I also wanted to fuck you.”

“You could've just said that,” I said.

“Where's the fun in that?” she said before pulling me in for another kiss.

As the kisses got more passionate, the hornier we got. Somehow my face got between her legs as I pleasured her moist vagina with my tongue. I’m sure we would have gone further if we didn’t hear a familiar voice say, “You should wait until the cameras start rolling.”

I looked up and saw Peter North looking at us and laughing. I couldn't fucking believe it. Peter and I hadn't exactly gotten off to a great start on Hollywood Hookers 3. He'd spent most of my scene with Heather trying to get inside my head, then watched Amber make things considerably worse by comparing the two of us afterward. I figured if there was one guy in the business less interested than Ron in sharing a scene with me, it was Peter.

Peter looked at Taija, then at me, and said in a sarcastic manner, “You again?”

“Yep,” I replied as Taija and I stood up.

He shook his head as he asked, “What happened to Ron?”

Taija answered before I could by saying, “He discovered Tommy has a huge penis.”

Peter started laughing as he said, “Seriously?”

“He gave Bruce an ultimatum,” I said. “Him or me.”

“And they picked you?” Peter said, laughing.

“Obviously,” I replied.

Peter stared at me for a moment, and then another smile crossed his face as he said, “Jesus Christ. Ronnie’s going to be a diva about this whole situation.”

That surprised me. Peter had been territorial the first time we'd met, but whatever problem he had with me wasn't enough to make him walk away from a paycheck. If anything, Ron's tantrum seemed to amuse him. Peter tossed his bag onto a chair as he yelled, “Bruce, I’m here. Where's my fucking script?”

Watching Peter get ready, I realized something had changed since Hollywood Hookers 3. A month earlier, I'd been the eighteen-year-old replacement brought in because somebody else couldn't work. Now an established performer was called in because somebody refused to work with me. I still wasn't sure whether that meant I was moving up in the business or just pissing off some of the established stars. Either way, Peter North had just replaced Ron Jeremy, and Taija Rae was finally going to do her scene with me.

When I told Jamie Gillis what happened, he started laughing his ass off and immediately began roasting Ron. Here’s the thing: back then, everybody loved the Hedgehog, including Jamie. He promised me he’d talk to Ron and try to smooth things over.

That was what I liked best about Mr. Gillis. No matter what problem I brought to him, he always seemed to know how to solve it. I was still figuring out how the business worked, while Jamie had been around long enough to know everybody, understand their bullshit, and usually find a way to make it disappear.

He was also a huge fucking pervert.

I’m not saying anything about Jamie that he wouldn’t have happily said about himself.

Shortly after we met, he invited me over to the house he and Amber Lynn rented in the Hollywood Hills. He told me he was going to teach me the basics of acting. Considering how terrible I was, I figured I could use all the help I could get.

When I arrived, Amber answered the door buck naked.

That probably should’ve been my first indication that there wasn't going to be much acting involved. She grabbed me and quickly pulled me toward the bedroom. When we got there, I found Jamie chained to the wall with a ball gag in his mouth and a chastity belt covering his privates.

She then picked up a whip that was lying on the bed, along with an array of dildos and vibrators, and cracked it in my direction.

“Clothes off,” she demanded.

I didn't need to be told twice. Considering what she was holding, arguing seemed like a good way to find out exactly how much getting hit with a whip hurt. Within seconds, my clothes were on the floor.

Amber got down on her knees and started stroking my cock. Then she glanced over at Jamie, still chained to the wall and unable to do anything but watch.

“He makes your penis look like a pebble,” she said.

Jamie responded with something unintelligible through the ball gag.

Amber laughed before putting my penis into her mouth.

Apparently, humiliating Jamie was part of the evening's entertainment.

As her tongue played with my dick, I looked Jamie directly in the eyes. I couldn’t tell whether he was begging to be set free or getting turned on watching his girlfriend go down on me. Knowing Jamie, there was a pretty good chance it was both.

Amber’s oral skills were kind of amazing. She seemed to know exactly which spots drove me crazy, and with every lick and kiss, I could feel myself getting closer to cumming. Apparently, she could tell too, because she suddenly stopped. She had no intention of letting me finish that quickly. Instead, she stood up and ordered me to return the favour.

Before I could accommodate her wishes, she held her right arm alongside my penis and looked over at Jamie with a giant smile as she said, “He’s bigger than my arm, and you’re about the size of my pinky.”

Jamie responded through the ball gag, but I couldn’t understand a fucking word he was saying.

When I got between Amber’s legs, she pushed my face between them. As I went down on her, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jamie’s dick and wondering why the hell she kept pretending it was small. I’d shared scenes with the man. I knew for a fact that he was above average.

I wasn’t naïve. I knew exactly what was happening. Jamie and Amber were playing some kind of humiliation game, and apparently, I had been invited over to serve as the measuring stick.

What I didn’t understand was why they needed me to be part of it. Even more confusing was why I was enjoying myself so fucking much.

When my tongue made her cum, her legs clamped around my head like a vise. For a few seconds, I wasn't sure if she was having an orgasm or trying to kill me with her thighs.

When she finally released me, I came up for air.

Amber looked over at Jamie and gloated by saying, “Tommy knows how to eat pussy. You only know how to snack on it.”

That apparently crossed a line.

Jamie immediately started struggling against the restraints, pulling at the chains like he was determined to rip them straight out of the wall. I couldn't tell whether he was genuinely pissed off or whether his behavior was simply the next act in the kinky game the two of them were playing.

Amber, on the other hand, looked absolutely delighted.

She then rolled onto her back, and I climbed on top of her. As we started having sex, she pressed her face against my neck and inhaled deeply.

“He still has that fresh teenage scent,” she said, looking over at Jamie. “You’re starting to smell like an old man, Grandpa.”

Jamie immediately started fighting against the restraints again.

By this point, I was beginning to realize that Amber knew exactly which buttons to push. And Jamie apparently enjoyed having every single one of them pushed.

I started pounding her pussy at a rapid pace, but Amber immediately told me to slow down. She wanted to drag the moment out, making sure Jamie had plenty of time to watch us together.

Apparently, the encounter wasn't just about Amber and me having sex. The entire point was making Jamie watch, and every time she thought I was getting carried away, she reminded me exactly who the performance was really for.

While I was fucking her at the pace of a snail, Amber kept taunting Jamie, telling him it felt like she had four dicks inside her instead of his puny one. I could tell Amber was having the time of her life, and, in his own twisted way, Jamie was too.

I wasn't.

I felt less like a participant and more like a pawn in their game. They were clearly getting exactly what they wanted out of it, while I was basically a living prop. And that was starting to piss me off.

If they were going to drag me into this, I didn't want to spend the entire night following their instructions. I wanted to actually participate.

So I decided to change the rules and take charge.

I immediately pulled away from Amber, climbed off the bed, and stared at her. For the first time that night, she looked genuinely confused.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“You don’t deserve me.”

“Get back over here,” she demanded.

“Beg for it,” I ordered.

Her expression changed instantly. “I’m Amber fucking Lynn,” she snapped. “I don’t beg men. Men beg me.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. Amber had spent the entire night controlling the game, and now I’d taken the control away from her. Judging by the muffled noises coming from Jamie across the room, he was enjoying the change in management.

Eventually, she flinched and started begging. I didn’t give her what she wanted. She begged some more,...