I drove around town for hours, angry and frustrated at the conundrum my perfect life had become. A year ago my future was paved in the sweet sound of orgasms and adult porn. Now it was overgrown with confusion and indecision. My reaction to Andi had been a purely visceral reaction, as if my flaccid member had recognized the scent of a pure, untarnished woman and demanded its fill. But was it just a onetime thing? Would I feel the same if I saw her again? Would I need to picture Andi every time I wanted a drug free erection? Wouldn’t that basically make Andi my new erectile dysfunction drug of choice? Around eleven, I bit the bullet and dragged my pondering ass home. Thankfully, Donna was pleasantly absent.
Two nights later I found my burning curiosity over my equipment’s erratic recovery a feat that needed testing. Cindy had a shoot that night, so Leah dropped by for a far too familiar social romp. As soon as she sauntered through my door, I knew something was missing. There was no thumping in my chest, not even a twitch in my pants. Thankfully, Leah was not completely oblivious to my problems, and after I helped her reach her own orgasm without the use of my bored dick, she left without so much as a barb or harsh word. Maybe it was the fact that Andi was not familiar to me, she was new, a breath of fresh air. With that thought in mind, I threw on a pair of jeans and a button down shirt, and hit the town.
Provocateur NYC wasn’t your usual club; it was exclusive, it was expensive, and it was hard to get in to. They had their doors locked down tighter than a camel’s ass in a sand storm. However, it was a club that I frequented often. I gave Joey a fist bump as he pulled the door open, and I made my way to the café where I had planned to meet one of my best friends and fellow porn star, Ryder Harder—yes, that is his real name. I had met Ryder at the start of my career when we had both inadvertently answered an ad for a part in an adult film. Apparently nude modeling somehow equated to porn. That didn’t bother either of us who were na?ve twenty-year-old men only happy to get paid to wet our whistles. Little did we know the glamorous life we thought we were stepping into was, for the most part, anything but glamorous. Abuse, disease, and drugs were prolific, and I had no idea how I made it through those early days without contracting something that turned my dick green. Ryder was so appalled by the state of adult film that he started his own company, Kink Harder. It grew quickly into a thriving business that was run with extensive medicals, zero tolerance for abuse and bullshit, and high quality scenes. I had worked exclusively for Ryder since the beginning of Kink Harder. I was one of the lucky ones who had found a clean, well paid career.