Porn work is hard work, no pun intended. For a guy he has to maintain an erection through multiple shoots and positions. Get fluffed by girls who aren't in the action. Then fuck the star over and over again and again. Plus he's expected to cum on demand while shooting ropes 6 to 12 inches across the actress. For the girl she has to endure hours of fucking a cock in her pussy. Regular bedroom sex has the cock in there an average of 7 minutes. On set she may be fucked for a couple of hours, under hot lights, in multiple positions. She'll have plenty of lube applied to her pussy as it will become rather dry after a while. Then there's the cock size she gets to take. Long wide penetrating cock pushing deep into her cervix, sometimes painfully deep. All through this she has to maintain like she is actually enjoying this. That's why they call it acting. It isn't real.
I’m proud of what I have done. Tell me if you like it or not. My story… I've danced nude in gentlemen's clubs for the past 20 years, and there's something intoxicating about it—the lights on your skin, dozens of eyes watching every move, the way you can feel their desire from across the room. Some nights I'd be on stage completely naked, legs spread on the pole, and I'd catch myself getting genuinely turned on by the attention, the power of it. The sexual energy in those clubs is thick—you can taste it. A lot of dancers won't admit it, but plenty of us get wet performing, especially during private dances when you're grinding on a stranger's lap and he's hard beneath you. That's why when porn recruiters show up—and they always do—what they're offering makes sense. The money is enticing as hell: $1,000 to $3,000 per scene. But it's not just about the money. It's about the sex itself. Real, intense, often mind-blowing sex with professionals who know what they're doing. Getting fucked hard in every position, sometimes by multiple guys, orgasming on camera, and walking away with a fat check. Compare that to strip club work—dancing for hours in painful heels, teasing men you can't touch, doing lap dances that get you worked up with no release, hustling constantly for tips. The recruiters know their audience. They know nude dancers already love attention and money—definitely true for me. They don't care about age or body type; they want real women, and they know where to find girls who are already comfortable being naked and sexual for strangers. When you do the math, it's almost stupid not to do it. One porn video pays what might take a week of dancing to earn. Do 300 to 400 videos over a couple years? You're looking at over a million dollars, plus you're having incredible sex instead of just simulating it. It gets hard to say no. That's why so many strippers end up doing porn. It's easy to see why we make that choice. The recruiter who got me was smooth as hell. It was a Tuesday night, dead as fuck, maybe five customers in the whole club. I was exhausted, my feet killing me, contemplating calling it early. He sat at the stage during my set, didn't throw money like the other guys—just watched. Really watched. I could feel his eyes on my body, not in that gross way most men look, but appreciative, almost professional. When I came off stage, he bought me a drink and introduced himself. He was good-looking, well-dressed, had business cards. He told me he'd been watching me dance and that I had something special—the way I moved, the way I connected with the audience. Then he laid out the pitch: same nudity I was already doing, but fucking on camera instead of just teasing. Better money, way better. One scene could pay my rent for the month. He made it sound so logical, so simple. "You're already naked for strangers," he said. "Why not get naked and actually enjoy yourself for real money?" I felt this flutter in my stomach that wasn't just about the cash. There was something exciting about the idea itself. Want more?? Some of my first and most memorable shoots??
Well that was quick! I thought about it for two weeks. Kept dancing, kept grinding through shifts, but his card stayed in my wallet. Then I had one of those nightmare weekends—worked Friday and Saturday, barely made $400 total. Rent was due in five days. I was 32, and every morning my body reminded me I couldn't do this forever. My knees ached. My back hurt. I kept thinking about what he'd said, about the money, but also—and I'll be honest—about the sex. I was curious. I'd been getting myself worked up for years with no payoff, going home horny and frustrated after every shift. The idea of actually getting fucked, really fucked, by someone who knew what they were doing, and getting paid for it? That started to sound better and better. On Sunday night, I pulled out his card and called. When he answered, I didn't even hesitate. "I'm in," I said. "When can we shoot?" He laughed, told me he'd set something up for that week. After I hung up, my heart was racing. I was nervous, yeah, but I was also turned on just thinking about it. That first shoot was surreal. The studio was cleaner and more professional than I expected—like a nice house converted into a set. There was a whole crew: camera guys, a director, someone doing lighting. They had me sign a mountain of paperwork. The male performer was gorgeous—tall, muscular, with this confident energy that immediately got me wet. He was nice enough, very professional, asked about boundaries. But there was chemistry there, real attraction. When we started, I was nervous as hell, but once he kissed me and his hands started exploring my body, my brain switched into pure desire mode. He went down on me first, and fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing. His tongue worked my clit while his fingers curved inside me, hitting that perfect spot. I came hard within minutes, my thighs shaking, completely forgetting about the cameras. The crew watching somehow made it hotter—being that exposed, that vulnerable, performing my genuine pleasure for them. When he finally pushed inside me, I was so ready I gasped. He was big, stretching me perfectly, and he fucked me with this intense rhythm that had me moaning for real. We went through multiple positions—missionary with my legs over his shoulders so he could go deep, doggy style where he grabbed my hips and pounded me hard, me riding him while the camera caught everything. I came at least three times, maybe four—I lost count. The director kept saying "that's perfect, keep going," and it just fueled me more. By the end, when he finished on my face and tits, I was genuinely satisfied, flushed and trembling. The weird part was the stopping and starting for different camera angles, the director calling out adjustments, the awareness that this would be online forever for anyone to see. And somehow that knowledge made it even hotter—the permanence of it, the fact that thousands of strangers would watch me getting fucked and coming for real. When we wrapped, they handed me an envelope with fifteen hundred-dollar bills inside. I sat in my car in the parking lot just staring at it. Three hours of work, plus incredible sex, for what usually took me a week of dancing to make. After that first one, the calls kept coming. Different studios, different producers, all connected somehow. They liked working with me—I showed up on time, I was reliable, I didn't cause drama, and I genuinely loved the sex. Within three months, I was doing two or three shoots a week, and each one pushed my boundaries a little further. I started with boy-girl scenes, but quickly moved into threesomes—two guys taking turns fucking me, then both at once, one in my pussy while I sucked the other. My third shoot was with Marcus, and that's when everything changed. He was this gorgeous Black man with the most beautiful dark skin, muscular and confident, and when he stripped down I just stared. He was hung—thick and long, the kind of cock that makes you nervous and excited at the same time. But it was more than that. There was something about the contrast of his dark hands on my pale skin, the way his body looked against mine, the intensity in his eyes when he fucked me. He knew exactly what he was doing, taking his time at first, making me beg for it, and when he finally pushed inside me I felt stretched and filled in a way I'd never experienced. He fucked me for over an hour, making me come over and over, and I was hooked. After that, I started requesting to work with Black performers whenever I could. The studios noticed—they could see the chemistry on camera, the way I responded differently, more intensely. There was something primal about it, the visual contrast, the way they moved, the confidence and skill most of them brought to every scene. I did a scene with three Black guys that became one of my most popular videos. They took turns with me, then all at once—one fucking my pussy, one in my mouth, switching positions, the feeling of being surrounded by these beautiful dark bodies, their hands all over me, their cocks filling me. I came so hard I nearly blacked out. The director said you could see it on my face, the genuine pleasure, the way I couldn't fake that kind of response even if I tried. Marcus became my regular. We did dozens of scenes together over the next year, and every single one was incredible. He had this way of dominating me that made me melt—pulling my hair, talking dirty, fucking me so deep and hard I'd be sore for days after. But he was also attentive, making sure I came multiple times before he did, knowing exactly how to touch me. Off camera, we'd joke around, but the second the director called action, the chemistry was electric. There was one scene where he fucked me in every position imaginable, and I squirted for the first time on camera, completely soaking the sheets. He just grinned and kept going, making me do it again and again until I was trembling and begging him to let me rest. Word got around that I had incredible chemistry with Black performers, and studios started specifically booking me for interracial content. I worked with so many gorgeous Black men—each one different, each one memorable. There was DeShawn, who was massive and knew how to use every inch, making me take him deeper than I thought possible. There was Isaiah, who loved eating pussy and would go down on me for what felt like hours until I was begging him to fuck me. There was a scene with four Black guys where they passed me around like a toy, and I loved every second of it—the feeling of being desired by all of them, the way they'd watch each other fuck me, waiting their turn, stroking themselves while I moaned and came over and over. Directors loved shooting me with Black men because my reactions were so genuine—the way my eyes would roll back, the way I'd grip their arms, the sounds I'd make. It wasn't acting. The contrast of our skin, the intensity, the way they fucked me—it all drove me wild in ways I couldn't hide even if I wanted to. I learned to deepthroat with a Black performer named Darius—he was huge, and at first I could barely take half of him in my mouth, but he was patient, coaching me through it, teaching me to relax my throat. By the end of that shoot, I had him all the way down, my nose pressed against him, tears streaming down my face, and when he came down my throat I felt this rush of accomplishment and pure lust. Then there was the scene where Marcus and another gorgeous Black guy named Tyrell took turns with me for over an hour—one would fuck me while I sucked the other, then they'd switch, over and over, using me exactly how they wanted. I was stretched and sore and completely satisfied, my body marked with their handprints, my pussy swollen from the pounding. The visual of it—my pale skin between their dark bodies, the way they moved me into position, passing me back and forth—it was art and pornography and pure sex all at once. I came so many times I lost count, my whole body shaking, barely able to stand by the end. I learned what I was really into—I loved being dominated, having my hair pulled, being told what to do, the rougher scenes where I'd end up with handprints on my ass and a sore jaw from deepthroating. The Black performers I worked with seemed to understand that instinctively, giving me exactly what I needed. But I also loved the sensual scenes, the slow build, making genuine connection with a partner even with cameras everywhere. The variety was incredible—one day I'd be in lingerie doing something romantic and soft-focus, the next I'd be getting fucked hard by multiple gorgeous Black men, taking turns pounding me while I deepthroated another, my body used exactly how I craved. The studios knew what sold, and my interracial content was always among the most popular. They'd specifically book me for those scenes because my enthusiasm was obvious and real. I kept dancing for a while, but eventually, it didn't make sense. Why work all night for a few hundred when I could do a shoot in the morning, have multiple orgasms with men who knew exactly how to make me scream, and make two grand? The industry has its own rhythm—you learn what sells, what companies pay better, what you're willing to do and what you're not. I discovered my limits and also discovered I had fewer limits than I thought. It's a business. I treated it like one. But it was also the most sexually liberated period of my life, where I got paid extremely well to explore every fantasy and desire I'd ever had. And a huge part of that liberation was discovering my genuine attraction to and preference for Black men—something I might never have fully explored otherwise. Marcus and I still keep in touch. We did over fifty scenes together, and every single one was fire. Looking back now, after hundreds of videos, it's complicated. I made more money than I ever would have otherwise. I met interesting people. But more than that—I had hundreds of incredible sexual experiences. I fucked talented, attractive people who knew exactly what they were doing. I had orgasms on camera that were completely real. I explored parts of my sexuality I never would have discovered otherwise, pushed boundaries I didn't know I had, lived out fantasies most people only dream about. The sexual liberation was real, and it mattered. But there's a weight to it too—knowing that much of my life is out there permanently, that people recognize me, that it affects relationships and how people see me. I don't regret it exactly. It was a choice I made with open eyes, and it solved real problems in my life while giving me experiences that genuinely shaped who I am sexually. But I also understand why it's not for everyone. The money is real. The sex was real. The consequences are real too. All of those things can be true at once. I did what I needed to do at the time, had the time of my life doing it, and I'm still figuring out what it all means. I still enjoy dancing and a shoot or two here there. For different reasons now. I love it. It’s addicting for me. I love the attention! I am currently in Vegas for AVN! So what do you think? Like what I did and do? Hate it? Love to know your thoughts comments questions.
Love it. I knew a couple of girls years ago that did some shoots and I got to see some of them as well as the outtakes. Fun girls and nice stuff. Always nice to see someone getting fucked and enjoying it. Hope you can share some links so we can see. Or PM maybe. Enjoy Vegas and thank you for this!
I loved your description and sex positive attitude! I dislike that there are women feeling abused by porn, but also know women like you exist. It would be fun to know what you're performer name us to look for videos, and watch some of the scenes you described? You can post here, or DM if you want it kept private. You should read Jenna1995 and Rana04's posts, women similar in thought as you? What were some of your limits? Either ones you never wanted to try, or tried and didn't like? Were there any you did like, but then later disliked? Thanks!
I’ve been fortunate over the years to be involved in adult entertainment including gangbangs and one on ones threesomes etc. I still do a few things here and there besides servicing soccer moms and my wife fwb and fb and will provide my cum to select men. Yes a crazy life but no drugs smoking or alcohol in order to have lots of sex. The posts describe the filming experiences in proper detail. It’s not easy to stay hard and shoot on demand and sometimes fucking when the director yells cut to get a different angle. Sometimes you don’t connect with your partner. So many factors. I’m only 6 inches but thick and in good shape although they sometimes look for heavyset. My size made lots of costars comfortable for extended shootings and also anal. Many times for dp I was the guy doing the anal. Even private situations. I do everything part time but thoroughly enjoy the industry and providing what I can to people. I’ve posted that I have a nice reputation for my oral skills which many men brag about but in my situation it gets me lots of referrals and many women
