By M. Allen Nathan
In HUSTLER Magazine – May 2010

IT’S A TOUGH INTERVIEW. The guest is squirming, but the show’s buxom cohosts press on, probing relentlessly. The windup. The pitch…and there it is. The question on everyone’s mind, now hanging in midair, waiting for a response: “What’s the biggest thing that’s ever been up your ass?” Welcome to Night Calls, a long-running adult talk show with a definite “this was shocking in 1982” vibe. Produced by Sirius XM 99 and Playboy Radio, the program is currently hosted by Christy Canyon and Nicki Hunter. In their hot seat tonight: international porn star Katsuni. My assignment is to spend some time in the company of this exotic French-Vietnamese beauty. Katsuni had recently traveled to Los Angeles from her home in Paris to shoot some fresh, steamy content for mega-studio Digital Playground, as well as to promote her new, personally designed line of lingerie for the American market.

After several moments of reflection, Katsuni comes through. “I would have to say Mandingo,” she replies demurely, referring to the porn actor who packs a Thanksgiving parade float in his pants. “He is…like my arm.” Christy and Nicki nod sympathetically. You can tell by their expressions that they too had done their share of field research in pursuing love down the Hershey Highway. But being savvy entertainers, they also know this is no time to lose focus. What’s called for is the right follow-up question. “What’s the best cock you’ve ever had in the industry?” Nicki asks. “That’s a very difficult question,” Katsuni answers diplomatically. “But I’d have to say [veteran French performer] Manuel Ferrara.”

Christy and Nicki seem a bit disappointed that American cock came in second. Who knows, maybe they still order Freedom Fries. Although the two cohosts want to talk about ass cracks and titties, their stunning guest insists on raising the level of elocution. Katsuni answers every question politely, of course, but she does it almost shyly, speaking in general terms about “liking many things” and “expressing myself openly.”

Talking dirty isn’t this lady’s thing. But wow, do her actions speak louder than her words. Katsuni’s cinematic work is, in a word, filthy. She’s as bad a bad girl as a XXX fan could want. The star of movies like Anal Worship and Cumfucius is up for anything when the director says “Action!” Threeways, double penetration, bondage and relentlessly rough, pounding sex—often bordering on felonious assault—are all hallmarks of Katsuni’s repertoire. It all seems incongruous. The well-spoken, reserved woman talking about “feelings and emotion” is also one of the biggest cock-hungry sluts in the adult industry.

So after her radio interview we sit down and try to get to the bottom of…well, why so many things end up in Katsuni’s alluring bottom. “When it comes to sex, I have no limits,” Katsuni explains in her glorious, breathy French accent. (Guys could masturbate to this chick reading from a phone book.) “For me to have sex is a great way to be free. My brain is always working except for when I have sex. Then my brain is off. I just want to feel. When I make love, I always do it like it’s for the first time or the last time.” My romantic poetry teacher in college wasn’t half as eloquent. Katsuni started out in the porn business as a classic libertine (think female Marquis de Sade) who is devoid of any restraints and who doesn’t concern herself with society’s accepted morals. “I considered the world a playground,” she recalls. “It was like I was in front of a buffet and couldn’t stop eating. I didn’t want to think about the future. I only wanted to feel pleasure.”

Sometimes girls just want to have fun, which Katsuni most certainly did, appearing in 300 adult films. But then one day, much to the dismay of her patron saint—the ol’ Marquis de Horny—this drippingly hot vessel of pleasure had an epiphany. She was getting older. “I loved doing porn,” Katsuni continues, “but before long I knew I would be 30 years old. When you do porn, you don’t have to be responsible; you just want gratification. I realized it was time for me to use my brain.” Luckily, in Katsuni’s case, fucking her brains out proved to be only an expression. She launched an extremely successful personal Web site, ClubKatsuni.com, then began producing and directing for her own adult video company, Katsuni LLC. She did a series of highly successful live dance performances, first in France and Italy, then the U.S.

She also created her own lingerie line, hosted a sex advice cable show in Paris and shot documentaries about the adult industry for French television. Oh, and one more thing: Katsuni fell in love. For the past three years she’s been in an exclusive relationship with a French TV director, Franck Gregory. (No misprint. Leave it to the French to throw in an extra c.) Anyway, Katsuni and Franck with the superfluous consonant are crazy about each other, and both work hard to cope with the stressful complications of their various jobs—his involving long hours and travel, hers getting ass-fucked constantly. “I know it’s not natural to be with another man when you’re in love, but I love what I do,” Katsuni tells me the next day as I accompany her, Franck and several of their friends on a sightseeing tour of Santa Monica, California. “Franck didn’t make me choose between him and my job. But I knew if I loved this man, I had to start thinking for two.”

In other words it was time to feather the nest. Katsuni and Franck moved into a place together in Paris, settling down to simple domestic bliss. “We don’t go to clubs,” she says. “I go to enough clubs for my work. We like to relax at small neighborhood restaurants, either with friends or just the two of us. We don’t like the famous international tourist places.” Domestic goddess, international porn star and successful businesswoman. The lady’s come a long way from the shy, innocent Parisian teen who first started watching porn out of curiosity and insecurity. “It’s funny,” Katsuni confesses. “I never wanted to be a porn star. Porn was a secret, a fantasy, an experiment. The girls in porn seemed so powerful to me back then. They could satisfy two or three men, and I was worried I couldn’t satisfy one.” Who’s got the power now?

ONE OF THE BIGGEST NAMES IN PORN SURPRISES OUR WRITER WITH HER EPIC LOVE STORY, ARTISTIC TALENT AND WIT.

by M. Allen Nathan
from HUSTLER MAGAZINE – March 2010

You can tell when showbiz couples are in love for real. Bogart and Bacall. Hepburn and Tracy. Brad and Angelina. Grey’s Anatomy star Katherine Heigl and her ego. The genuine affection oozes from the screen in every one of these examples, and audiences lap it up.

Why? Nobody knows. But since the art of storytelling began, everybody loves a love story. And that’s what this tender tale is about: the XXX love story of Sunny Leone and Daniel Weber—two attractive young people who have eyes only for each other and fuck on camera for money.

But Sunny Leone wasn’t always the outgoing, super-sultry woman of countless men’s tent-pitching dreams. As impossible as it seems, the same person who now markets the Sunny Leone Exciter Vibrator used to be shy. Sunny’s parents were born in India, where pornography is illegal to this day. When the couple migrated to this country, they brought their homeland’s traditional values with them. Keeping an extremely watchful eye on their young daughter, they enrolled her in a strict Catholic school. “My parents were really conservative when I was growing up,” Sunny reminisced over lunch with Daniel and me. “They were always sheltering me. I think that’s why I’m so extroverted now.” Sunny’s rebellion was slow in coming. She was studying nursing when a classmate— a part-time exotic dancer—introduced her to a modeling agent. He, in turn, introduced Sunny to a photographer for Penthouse, who offered her a nude-modeling job.

“I was a nervous wreck,” Sunny recalled with a laugh. “I loved the idea of being in the entertainment business, but I was 18 years old. Up until this point I had never even seen an adult magazine.”

Despite being scared, Sunny followed her instincts and began baring it all for the camera. In 2001 she graced Penthouse and HUSTLER. Things happened quickly after that: tons of magazine modeling, then a transition into film, first with women only and later boy/girl scenes exclusively with her fiancé at the time, Matt Erikson.

But things weren’t meant to work out happily ever after with Erikson. “We were having all these [offscreen] threesomes,” Sunny recalled. “It destroyed the dynamic of the relationship.” The couple parted company.

Tired of pursuing true romance, Sunny decided to chart a new course. She was a porn star for chrissakes. Performers in the biz often have as many sexual partners as a respectable Tetris score. Up until this point, Sunny had been with only one onscreen guy. It was time to go crazy, she reckoned. Time to live a fast-paced, self-indulgent, hedonistic lifestyle.

But, alas, this is a love story, and the young lady’s plans for an extended sex party on- and off-camera with multiple male partners wasn’t meant to be. Sunny had hardly dipped a toe (not to mention a few other more alluring body parts) into serious promiscuity when she met Spyderz guitarist Daniel Weber at a party one night. (The band was formed by Tera Patrick’s husband, Evan Seinfeld, a respected musician who has performed with Biohazard and Damnocracy, among others.) Porn and rock ’n’ roll. As Prince Charmings often are in these fables, Daniel was instantly smitten. However, Sunny still wanted to “go crazy,” or so she thought. Over the next few weeks she turned down the guitarist’s repeated requests for a date.

Eventually Sunny changed her mind and agreed to go out for dinner. “We barely ate,” Sunny remembered. “We talked for like five hours.” The chemistry was undeniable, and the two have basically been together ever since. Although Daniel still plays music, it’s not his number- one priority.

“Sunny is my girlfriend, my partner in life,” Daniel explained. “I don’t look at myself as a performer. I just want to be with her. I’m really more into the business. I thrive on production.” With Daniel as her ultimate guitar hero, Sunny is the happiest she’s ever been. The lovebirds work and play hard together almost 24/7. Surfing is their latest offscreen passion, and when they’re not riding a wave or fornicating for fun and profit, they blissfully chill out with their two dogs in a stylish, restored Hollywood high-rise, which is also the perfect environment for Sunny to paint. That’s right: to paint. This wanton pleasure machine is not only a virtuoso with a bone daddy at full salute, but she’s also pretty good with a brush and colors.

Standing proudly next to a painting that looked as good to my eye as anything Jackson Pollock ever attempted, Sunny confided, “I like to paint abstract art and work in weird gel mediums. I don’t have a lot of self-confidence in my art yet, but one day, who knows? A show might be interesting.”

Sunny Leone: the story of a beautiful, timid girl who was able to find true love, overcome her shyness and vanquish the porn industry. “Who knows?” is right. With soul mate Daniel Weber’s support, the art world just might be her next conquest.

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You may purchase the hard copy of the March 2010 Issue of HUSTLER Magazine (with free shipping) at HustlerMagazine.com. Comes with full length DVD and free shipping!

You may purchase a digital copy of the March 2010 Issue of HUSTLER Magazine at UnderCoverMags.com.

BY SUN KARMA

I’ve been through the Internet mill before. Back in the day, I set up Web sites to help pay for my college tuition. I had a Webmaster in the ethnic-niche market, but we had major cre­ative differences: Let’s just say I didn’t have enough ass, had too many tattoos and couldn’t make a “sex” face. We ended up parting ways.

I had an offline hiatus, all the while modeling for photo-shoots and archiving the pictures for four years. (I’m not stupid.) When I finally decided to get back into the Internet business, I was determined to simply be myself. I’d have complete control over the new site as Webmistress and creative director.

However, things have changed since the “You build it, and they will come” generation. Sure, I’ll never be as popular as Danni’s Hard Drive or HUSTLER.com, but I figured I’d give it a shot again. I’d build a brand for myself by appearing in HUSTLER Magazine as its roving reporter and by dancing at various strip clubs.

PHOTOS COURTESY EVILFX AND SUNKARMA.NET

Of course, this had previously met with all kinds of turmoil. For instance, my day job. I work in infor­mation technology. One company fired me for appearing in HUSTLER. Thanks! I’m thousands richer due to the settled lawsuit.

Anyway, I often “work” at work, writing on my breaks. I just can’t help it. When your mind runs a million miles a minute, and you have all sorts of creative ideas like I do, you have to get them out somehow. So Microsoft Word is normally always an outlet for me. As a result, I’ve had to attach mirrors to my PC to see creepers sneaking up on me as I’m typing an erotic story or whatever.

Another problem is those coworkers who Google me. It doesn’t take long for people to put 4 and 3 together and get 14. Often I’m the subject of water cooler gossip. Or even worse, I appear in those computer nerd screensavers or wallpapers. I even get e-mails saying, “Hey, don’t you have a site?” One colleague reported me to my boss for having “porn con­tent” on what had been my main Web site (SunKarma.net). This site does not have any nude photos of me. Fortunately, my boss not only didn’t particularly care, but he also thought the whole thing was amusing.

Another especially hei­nous-looking butch boss couldn’t stand me because of it. She would often creep around, hovering behind me, thinking I wasn’t aware of her presence. She was trying to catch me doing something “inappropriate.” Eventually she got tired and just reported me to my boss for dressing too “cute.” (I was just wearing jeans and sweaters, for God’s sake!) I guess she had nothing else to do. Well, you mullet-wearing,fat, ugly dyke, I’m bisexual, so don’t take the term as a putdown. Get something else to do besides picking on me. Maybe if you stopped being so damned jealous, you could find hot girlfriends like the ones I have.

Family too is a source of concern. I’ve often had exes threaten to tell my family what I do. Well, keep your stiff dick in your pants, boys; they already know. It’s not a problem because I’m a grown woman. However, when you have Protestant ministers in your family, it does get a bit touchy. Recently, my cousin—a newly ordained female minister!—found me on MySpace and called to say how much the family “loves me” regardless. Perhaps thinking I was a heathen, she was trying to “save” me.

I’ve been called the HUSTLER bitch often,and I think people mean it as a derogatory term. It doesn’t bother me, however. Getting called a whore is not the worst thing in the world; being called a Republican is.

So it was not without some apprehension that I took up this cause again, to fly the flag of porn wildly and proudly, like Sisyphus fever­ishly pushing the rock up the hill in that ancient Greek myth. The major thing for me was getting my eight years of amassed content and creative ideas out to the world—whether it was ready or not.

This site will be different from my old PurpleKitten.com and MinaRoyale.com Web sites, as it is mostly fetish and will have everything from comics, Webcam shows and live chat to photos and POV work. There will be strap-ons, les­bian action, latex, corsetry, cosplay (costume play), Zentai (full-body stocking), bondage, girlfriend links and just about anything else I want. It will have everything a pay site has and, eventually, video.

Technology has progressed since I started in 1999. Billing companies have come and gone, while the tried and true remain. Hacking and pass­word sharing have become more difficult. I have an awesome set of photographers, including EvilFx as a point-of-view cameraman.

Any good porn starlet has to get in the mood to perform. So do I. Besides a shot of tequila, I usually like to have my own personal fluffer—who also happens to be my photographer. It’s great when you have a sex object who is more of a pervert than you are. I shoot at least two solo sets a day, and it’s almost like guaranteed sex because both of us get so worked up that we are ripping each other’s clothes off by the end of the shoot anyway.

The only hard parts about operating a site are the marketing, the legal aspects (the federal government’s rigorous age-verification requirements, etc.) and the site’s promotion. However, I think I can effectively function as the pink-clad riding hood babe out in the Internet porn woods and hold my own against the big horny porn wolf without needing too much of Grandma’s supervision.

I’m hoping to finally get it right this time around. Now I’m launching TheInternetBitch.com. I’ve built it; you will dome.Well, hopefully. Even if you don’t, it will be one amusing, proverbial dildo ride!
 

An interview with Alexa Jordan about her role in the Hustler dvd Barely legal Christmas. And talk about things like “What do you like about girls?”. Yum.

AN OFF-THE-CUFF, ON-THE-RECORD PEEK AT PORN’S NEW MILLION-DOLLAR BABY. 

HILLARY SCOTT—who has starred in Sex-Z Pictures’ Corruption, HUSTLER Video’s Britney Rears 3: Britney Gets Shafted! and a truckload of other hard-core flicks—is a massively popular fuck princess.

The doll currently possesses the coveted AVN Female Performer of the Year award, but she gained even more renown when Sex-Z reportedly signed her to the industry’s first $1-million exclusive contract. So what is porn’s new millionaire like when she’s off duty? Scheduling time with the much-in-demand damsel is no easy task, especially when the request is made by a stinky, coked-out reporter.

The idea was to tag along with Hillary all day and chronicle my findings, good or bad. She is, however, a consummate good sport, and when we finally lock down our rendezvous on a Sunday afternoon, she’s not put off by my presence or the overcast sky.

Hillary, who hails from Chicago, is waiting outside her apartment building on Reseda Boulevard, a main drag in L.A.’s
San Fernando Valley, where most adultindustry companies are headquartered. Still suffering the consequences of my late-night party antics, I pull up a little behind schedule in my truck.

Apparently, my dour expression doesn’t dampen Hillary’s enthusias mat having a companion for her inauspicious chores. “The focal point of the day is scoring a bag of weed,” the casually dressed vixen informs me as I suck on a Marlboro. “But my guy won’t be around for an hour or so, so I think a quick trip to the supermarket will eat some time until then. Plus, there’s nothing worse than being wasted without food around, right?”

“I guess so,” I shoot back as we drive off. “But with my habits, eating isn’t really part of the endeavor.”

“You’re doing the wrong drugs, Fayner,” my sexy passenger snaps. “I can’t imagine any drug that doesn’t lean towards the eating of Honey Nut Cheerios being an enjoyable ride, but that’s just me.”

I was planning a whole speech about how I refuse to be dissected by a 23-year-old chick paid to be sexually vicious on film. However, after we arrive at our destination, Hillary hops out and bolts toward the supermarket’s shopping carts, commandeering one like it’s some scene out of Jackass.

“Weee! Weee!” she hollers as her cart wobbles into the store. I follow.

Hillary immediately ventures toward the scary depths of the produce section. “I bet your readers want to see me holding a big cucumber!” she howls. “Can we do that first? Please?”

“Listen,” I brusquely inform her, “this is supposed to be about what you do on a day off. I’m just an observer. Pretend I’m not here.”

“Then I’m not deep-throating any green veggies! It’s pointless without an audience!”

“Do it for that young Latino over there refilling the apple bin,” I suggest. “He looks like he needs some enjoyment.”

But Hillary is over it. She steers her crippled cart into a vacant aisle, where she ditches it for a basket. “I’m not stoned right now, and foodshopping is only fun when you’re high and panting over everything you lay your eyes on,” she remarks. “We’re doing the expressshopping thing today, if that’s okay with you.”

And before I can remind her of my role, she coos, “Oh, that’s right. You’re not here.” Enough time wasted, and junk food aplenty, we evacuate the premises to make our way to the porn star’s reefer vendor. “I told him you were tagging along,” Hillary chirps.

“Said you wouldn’t bring your camera with us when we go in. That’s cool, right?”

“C’mon, darling, do you really think I’m not well-versed in the paranoid ways of the drug dealer? I know the drill.”

But as we start heading to our parking spot, Hillary’s urge for cannabis is suddenly sidelined by a coin-operated motorcycle ride meant for children. I’m forced to fork over two quarters, sit back and watch her ride the silly contraption. “Hey,” she screams, “even on my day off I need to ride an animal, right?! Weee! Weee!”

The dealer’s apartment is cluttered with chewed-up remnants of toys belonging to his Rottweiler. Sampson (whose name has been changed for obvious reasons) gets a whiff of me, thinks that because I smell like someone who sleeps with three dogs in my bed that I too am a dog—a female at that. Unless he’s a fag hound. But in either case, he becomes dedicated to feeding me his red rocket. I’m petrified.

“Geez, Fayner, I can’t seem to take you anywhere without some horny dog trying to sexually assault you,” Hillary blurts out as a huge cloud of pot smoke exits her overworked mouth, filling the room. “I can guess by Sampson’s gaze that we have limited time before he overpowers you and fucks your skinny ass!” Turning her attention to the dealer, she pipes, “Okay, give me a blowjobscene’s worth of the best stuff you got.”

“How much is that?” Hillary’s puzzled pusher answers. “Oh, sorry, I forgot you’re not in the business,” the lovely pothead apologizes. “Five hundred or so, I guess.” She pulls a wad of crisp bills out of her purse, then notices me gawking at the cashola from the kitchen area I had escaped to when Sampson tried to hump my face.

“Yeah, I know,” Hillary declares. “It’s a lot of money. I’ve been telling my ass to slow down, you know, take a breather, but it just wants to work. Who am I to complain?”

“Where to now?” I ask as we climb back into my ride. “A quick stop to grab the new High Times magazine,” Hillary replies, “then back to my place so you can watch me straighten up and answer some fan e-mails. Is that okay? I mean…just drive and don’t ask any more questions!”

The newsstand has run out of the current issue of High Times, but before we split, I insist on documenting this failed mission by having Hillary pose with a couple of the most unlikely publications a famous porn star would ever be seen reading. My choice— the one decision I make all day—is In-Fisherman. Hers is Combat Handguns. The hombre manning the stand asks us to buy something or leave. We’re out of there.

Hillary’s apartment is the archetypical adult performer’s abode: stacks of porn DVDs next to piles of work outfits next to shelves of well-used bongs. Hillary grabs one and brings it over to the sofa on which I’m kicking back.

“Your story’s about a day I’m not on the movie set, right?” she asks. “Well, here it is!”

Hillary loads the water pipe with her fresh sack of Mary Jane and pulls a huge hit, exhales a “sickeningly sweet” puff of smoke, then collapses back into the couch. “People think we live this glamorous life as porno stars. Well, glamorous may be the wrong word.”

“How ’bout debauched ?” I offer. “Perfect! But most of us are laid-back homebodies, you know? The whole stay-in-on-
Saturday-night-watching-rented-DVDs thing is alive and well and kickin’ it in Porn Valley!”

“Are you saying the porno stable is just a slew of lame ducks?” I ask.

“Sorta,” Hillary continues. “I mean, sure, I go out and party. We all do to some point, but making movies takes a lot out of me, and just because I fuck on camera doesn’t make me any different from everyone else when the day is done. To live a decadent lifestyle all the time is just flirting with disaster. I mean, just look what’s become of your life!”

“Very funny,” I fire back. Hillary’s young daughter lives elsewhere, and the MILF appears to be flying solo, minus an offscreen partner and active social life. As the contract girl earns her daily bread sucking and fucking onscreen, she might not want to bring her work home with her.

To liven things up, I remind Hillary, “Hey, don’t you have some cleaning or something to do?” By design, porno whores rely on someone else to do the dirty work for them: a boyfriend, manager, some loser trying to get in their pants. But Hillary, I’ve come to gather, is not the typical adult-industry slut. She doesn’t mind doing menial chores, even smiles when I demand she actually sweep the kitchen floor instead of just pretending. Any other XXX babe would have kicked me out at that point.

Not Hillary Scott, however. One would expect different from the best-paid hottie in the biz. When I discover her kitchen sink is without the expected pile of dirty dishes—just two pots!—I brashly take a cereal bowl from the cabinet and spit on it, thus giving her something to do as I shoot some photos. Hillary pushes me aside and washes the bowl with the same enthusiasm she has for her onscreen hijinks.

This spunk is also evident in Hillary’s allegiance to her fans. The next hour consists of me glued to the sofa while the gorgeous filly answers e-mails from admirers around the world. Well, that and periodically passing her the bong so she can remain good and stoned.

Before long it’s dark outside, and I sense from her constant yawning that Hillary has become a bit tired. It appears the hours spent loitering in supermarket isles and smoking weed have zapped the Valley Girl’s superwhore powers. Hillary crawls to the sofa and closes her eyes, silent and pure, transforming the familiar XXX Energizer Fuck Bunny into a soft, delicate, wholesome young woman free of sin. If I hadn’t whacked off so many times to Hillary’s videos, I could easily believe that what I’m seeing is an angel sent from heaven.

At this moment, I decide to leave. I don’t bother waking Sleeping Beauty up to say goodbye ’cause I know she’s had a rough day off doing pretty much nothing exceptional. No blowjobs were handed out, no flashlights up her ass. Shit, she never even flashed me her chirpy breasts!

But like I said before, even the sluts who flaunt the limits of their sexual dexterity need a break once in a while. It’s not always exciting, not always dramatic being a porn queen. Still, there’s something to be said about a typical girl doing typical things with her typical life when she just happens to screw while the cameras are rolling.

Scott Fayner’s only joy comes from drugs and his dog, Rhiannon. Born and raised in Massachusetts (the state that gave us the Puritans), the onetime HUSTLER staffer has come to despise the porn business. So it makes perfect sense that he just finished a movie script—a love story—about the very industry he can’t seem to escape. Fayner’s zany musings about the skin trade can be seen erratically at LukeFord.com.