Yes, this is an old thread. What's your point?
As it happens, the topic is just as lively, just as life/death now as it ever was. And a lot has happened since the sensational
"news" story about the horrors and dangers of horny faggots baring their perversion on camera for pay. Ohh, the horror.
In California, much of the mainstream porn industry of all orientations is in the area just north and west of Los Angeles in
the famous San Fernando Valley of which Bing Crosby sang in a hit song named after the general area. (It's on YouTube!)
Or perhaps there are geezers out there who have heard of Highway 101, known locally as "The 101," which runs east and
west across the whole area before bending north toward San Francisco and south, past the Marine base at Camp Pendleton
where Bobby Garcia made so many legendary videos of real soldiers getting naked and celebrating the pleasures of relieving
their horniness, and on toward San Diego.
I mention The 101 because it is the scene of a classic early rock 'n' roll song about a man who wore "Black Denim Trousers"
and a leather jacket "with an eagle on the back" when he was riding his motorcycle there. Great song. Vaughn Monroe, 1955.
The Edith Piaf version in French is also pretty damn terrific. Both are on YouTube, or have been.
Anyway, local authoritarians, in order to "protect the public" from easy access to visual titillation, have in their "wisdom" recently
decided condoms will be mandated for all porn. Well, that's one solution. Those who don't like it are free to relocate to friendlier
climes just outside the long bell end of the law, where professionally competent performers may be more difficult to locate than
in an industry town pretty much adjacent to Hollywood itself, which certainly made for convenient extra night work for
cameramen and others when the home video industry was being launched.
I saw a porn performer with a YouTube channel (!) a while ago, chatting gaily on and referencing "the old days" when you had to
rent a video and pop it in, back before the Internet thing. Ha! Maybe not in his lifetime, but definitely in mine, there once were no videotapes.
Hell, once upon a time there were no 8-track audio tapes either. And the most porn a man-fan was likely to get was some
quality time with the underwear section of a gigantic store catalogue (those no longer exist, and neither do some of the stores,
which, like the old-fashioned "five and dime" with sewing patterns and a lunch counter (often racially segregated) have also vanished.
Hard to believe there was a time when a boy had to go through puberty without ever seeing anyone having actual sex on camera,
not in the movies and certainly not even in magazines, where women famously had bodies with a staple in the middle. There were
no bulging Speedos or "budgie huggers" to oogle in secret fascination. (Which is where bodybuilding magazines became a significant
means for connection (see Beefcake, the movie). Once there did get to be "adult" theaters and 8mm peep shows, what you got to
see was the way of a man with a maid, and you had to decide where to direct your attention, which may not have been where the
filmmaker intended to feature.
But yeah, the hub of the US pr0n industry is being challenged-- oddly, just at the time when prophlaxis is becoming available before and after
unprotected sex. That doesn't stop BB movies. The last person I knew who was shooting a fuck flick in that area employed only
existing m/f couples, so they were already exposed to each other and were not going to be exposed to anyone else. So there are
perfectly legit and healthy workarounds that existed even before HIV+ people could reduce their viral load to an undetectable level,
and before rapid testing and the rest of the medical advances for which we can thank Larry Kramer and ACT-UP, among others. (See,
for example, the star-studded recent remake of The Normal Heart (available right here), based on a revival of his original
Broadway play written at the start of the crisis and as important a part of history to know as why pirates had cabin boys, whether
"rum, sodomy, and the lash" was once the Royal Navy norm, and that there have Always been gay soldiers and armored warriors
having gay sex since, oh, at least the love of David and Jonathan in that book they all keep abusing.
Much of the prurient challenge to prevent other people from having a good time is a result of the usual fearmongering from the usual
god-bothering Wholly Babble wallopers trying to impose churchianity and feed the war machine while keeping women and the poors
subservient. But I digress.
What I think is interesting about the supposed BB videos I've seen is that most of them still withdraw to display "the money shot,"
usually delivered by an extensive prolonged handjob and perhaps a time-lapse cut or two so that the movie does not show a major
droop or hiatus between passionate pistoning and far-spewing proof of pleasure being taken in the performance.
As someone noted, porn actors are not paid to have good sex; they are paid to look good having sex. Bobby's real enlisted young
horndogs are amazing to watch, often brilliantly handsome, macho, muscled, boyish, innocent despite their experience (sometimes
over a half dozen years or more of penetrating their love objects, even when they are still in their teens. Unfortunately, while
Bobby sweet talks them into enjoying great orgasms and pays them well enough that they keep coming back (even bringing along
other guys from the barracks), part of what makes his sessions so completely credible is the frequently incompetent camerawork,
the train whistle blowing loudly just outside his low budget setting, which is next to the Base railroad stop that everyone uses for
weekend liberty at "the titty bars" downtown. Add in the annoying longeurs a la Warhol's early anti-verisimilitude approach to
moviemaking, and you can see why John Waters like them so much. Never was art so artfully artless as these documents of the
secret life, needs, and serviceable accommodations of this virile warrior class.
Never a doubt about those men, and when the lights are working and the camera properly aimed and focused, your eyeballs will
occasionally burst into flame from the reflected heat of these male animals discharging their abundant tension at the peak of their
fertility and the moment of maximum explosive power for what often is a very long-awaited draining, as documented in closeup
as they grin cheekily with pride in response to Bobby's praise of their macho and professionalism. Then they may take their cash
and stumble out with a few beers in them, looking to get laid they way the like best-- if they can-- now that the frenzied edge of desperation
has been taken off and their randy prowl bankrolled for the night.
Awol Marines - October 2010 Audition Archives, for example, offers a goodly selection of Bobby's work.https://www.gaytorrent.ru/details.php?id=c6c5ae52576b8fdc721e650ad4175fa3b81f43f0d6e96a5d&hit=1
There may be handjobs, oral, anal, solos, duos, whatever. And am I the only one who ever watches these and thinks, gosh, I hope that
poor, naively macho stud gets some of the action he's after, because the girl would certainly have a good time. Actually, I guess not,
because there are some videos where guys plow gals and mess around with each other, or take time out from a well paying gig doing
gay for pay to make a record of them slamming their girlfriends enthusiastically. As with Dirk Yates, who followed soon after with his own
military strait guys, some of the blowjobs and manual stupration of the membrane get a sensational result that clearly takes the
satisfied youth to a whole new level of carnal bliss.
Another digression. Rambling again. Would be nice if there could be a pleasant conversation about such things, maybe even right here.
Anyway, yeah, there are BB vids, but what shocks me as I said is that for all the fuss about condomless sex, the load is usually airborne.
And even alleged oral enthusiasts m and f, seem generally uninterested in swallowing that lush cream, which cannot be entirely for the
benefit of the camera, but more of what seems to me, anyway, as a pathetic failure at being able to feign actual interest. It's only on
occasion that the man topping gets so carried away as to shoot inside, though some do rather make a feature of showing the result after
the flood has been launched.
And if showing it deposited inside one hole or another is the point (maybe it is not?), why wouldn't a cream-filled rubber make the same point,
and not interrupt the exciting finish for the participants to "hit their mark," as they say in acting? I mean, isn't it closer to actual two-person
sex if the act includes with everything in situ? A condom can provide that. So can quick gulping or some other clear evidence besides the
frantic breathing and twitching of the man cumming, whether or not we ever see a drop of what just put a smile on at least his own face that
is absolutely convincing. Some of these SoCal military-man stimulation sessions pretty clear help the man achieve a previously unknown
level of all-in satisfaction.
It might only be me in search of authenticity. Not sure bareback for the camera necessarily provides that, whatever the risk. Anyone? Bueller?