The celebrated cult author and hardcore doyenne known as Ashley Blue leads us down the dark hole of gonzo in this taste from her “porno memoir” Girlvert.
Don’t believe the glamorous illusions. They aren’t as hot as the melted mascara of truth running down the red cheek of a real girl. Don’t cheat me out of that shock and fulfillment. You must give me a piece of you that you don’t want to show to the rest of the world. It’s okay to be afraid at first. Don’t worry. Eventually you will love that you were brave enough to be true.
The following is from my porno memoir. What I’ve written is better than fiction. It’s the reality behind every fantasy about the girl-next-door getting into porn. Maybe we knew each other in a past life, and you had no idea that those pigtails would get pulled onto giant, multicolored cocks. See it with me, POV-style, not from the detached cameraman’s perspective. This is a view from the knees, looking up into a world of sex, cash, love and desperation.
The scene did not take place in the mansion. Brett, the director, led us around the driveway to a garage. The four of us (me and three guys) climbed a narrow staircase to a little attic. The ceiling was sloped, so you couldn’t stand straight up at one end of the room. There was a bathroom and a stained twin mattress in the middle of the floor.
Good thing I didn’t ask things like “Where are we going to do it and for how long?” Brett had already said that one of the lamest things a girl can do is ask questions. It pissed off most directors to have a girl wanting to know when she’d be done. They called it Hooker Mentality. Girls that just went along with everything were the cool girls. I wanted to be cool. I didn’t ask about—or object to—anything.