don't try this at home...

As soon as I got my first digital video camera I was overcome with a terrible desire to make my own porn!
I have a sneaking suspicion that most men in my situation have had the same idea whether they care to admit it or not? Oh sure, it all starts out harmlessly enough; the mandatory beginner clips, camera trained on our girlfriend with one hand whilst giving the directorial ‘more-action’ signal with the other. You try to coax her into saying something interesting, or at least cute but she simply grimaces, stares at the floor and yells ‘take the fucking camera out of my face’. You then progress to making a series of fascinating documentaries about your apartment before committing the ultimate indignity of filming your pet doing something enormously talented.
Deep down though, I really believe most guys want to try making their own blue movie, because let’s face it; we’re filthy animals at the core. The average male will try to find porn within 12 minutes of logging onto the internet for the first time…that’s a known fact…even though my research is predicated entirely on personal experience.
For most men it’s natural to watch it, so why not try and make it?
And I’m not talking about a sly peepshow...luring your unsuspecting girlfriend into the bedroom and secretly taping her undressing or performing a series of ballistically improbable acts on you, oblivious to the camera whirring unseen in the closet. Nor one of those graphically medical, up close and personal clips involving snatch-cam or surround-sound squelching noises.
I mean something artistic; a permanent record, tastefully capturing the bonds of intimacy that exist between a man and his trout.
And for mine, there’s nothing that encompasses this ideal more than a nice, long, slow blowjob. It’s just about the most thoughtful thing a trout can do for her man!
I mentioned this to my girlfriend, who enthusiastically (???) agreed to let me film her in the process of rendering unto Caesar the comfort of her lips. In truth, we both thought it might be a rather exciting experience; one that would enhance our sex life immeasurably (um...not that it needed it).
We chose the classic scenario; I would be seated on a chair and she would assume the position on her knees in front of me. Opting for a side-on camera angle, rather than the trendy point-of-view routine, I set the recording equipment on a tripod, optimized the lighting conditions, grabbed the remote control and took my seat in the director/star’s chair. My girlfriend took up her position on the floor, some preliminary adjustments were made to ensure ‘Mr Wibbly-Wobbly’ was looking his finest and the action began…
Now, I won’t go into details regarding the actual length of the scene; suffice to say that duration was the least of my ultimate worries. Throughout the entire performance, I felt I was managing admirably, whilst my girlfriend expertly ran through her entire repertoire with the sort of uninhibited grace I’d come to expect over the course of our relationship. The finale was predictably spectacular as far as I was concerned; the usual panoply of epileptic spasms and grimaces from me and some dream-like licking of the lips from her.
We could barely contain our mutual excitement at such a great ‘take’.
Hurriedly we raced over to the camera, hooked it up to the PC and downloaded our home-porn-movie…
Now, ever the realist I know in my heart that I’m not a real porn star, but unfortunately, as with most young men I’d been brought up on a steady diet of professional work; you know the stuff I’m talking about…
The girl, suitably sweet-looking with just a hint of naughtiness, suddenly dislocates her jaw like a reticulated python preparing to swallow a giraffe whole and clamps her lips around her partner’s member. And not just any old member either…uh-uh…it’s always the same; a preposterously monumental example of penile super-abundance, seamlessly and somehow impossibly grafted onto the body of a normal male.
This is followed by the obligatory bulging of the eyes, then the cheeks, whereupon the girl commences the act in earnest, a look of fear gradually replaced by one of pure contentment. This is accompanied by an exaggerated, trombone-playing-like flailing of both hands, much lizard-like tongue action and the depositing of several litres of saliva in the crotch region, until the salami-sized appendage is magically removed just in time to erupt all over the happy young lady’s face.
Well, I wasn’t expecting to see anything on that grand a scale, but neither was I prepared for what unfolded on the screen before me.
There was my girlfriend and there was I…in all our glory, re-enacting what I can only describe as the bit in the pre-flight safety demonstration where the hostess shows you how to manually inflate the life-jacket by blowing through the little valve. She was playing the hostess and I was playing the safety-jacket…
OK, maybe I’m being a little harsh on myself?
However…I couldn’t watch more than 20 seconds of this ludicrous pantomime. I suspected the ending, which I’d been looking forward to watching very much, was unlikely to be the ‘naked firewoman fights off high-pressure hose’ scene I had hoped for either?
With a click of the mouse, I consigned our movie to the recycle bin and vowed never to try that sort of thing at home again.
Let this be a warning!!!!
Leave pornography to the professionals.
Or to ‘Honeysmacks’…