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My day on a Porn Shoot III: The Unusual Object

Posted by Brett Hamm

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This is part three of Brett Hamm’s experiences on a porn shoot. Click to read about parts one and two.

After a quick smoke-o for the crew and an hour or so of set up, I found myself standing in the kitchen listening to a very earnest discussion on the merits of certain sexual apparatuses. I was struck by the refreshing openness on display, and learned about a certain unique toy to be used in the following scene.

The apparatus in question was a rather complicated double-ended dildo/strap-on hybrid thing that was being much ballyhooed as an ingenious and hitherto unseen design by crew and performers alike. It was a reflection-less black rubber U with a phallic right-angled protrusion from the top, like an elephantine serif.

The idea seemed to be that one side of the U should be inserted into a woman’s vagina, turning the over-sized serif thing into an attached dildo with which the wearer could pleasure their willing partner. The ingenuity of the design, I was informed by Adam, lay in the fact that the inserted U-side would stimulate the G-spot of the woman wearing the thing, while causing the outer side of the U to rub against the wearer’s clitoris, making for a kind of a double-whammy of hedonistic delight. (I recall “sweet Jesus” being a recurring private mental motif at this stage).

The scene was to unfold as such: Kiki would get naked with the thing pre-inserted, lying back on the couch and stroking her pretend black penis. Delilah would “return home” and Kiki would be like “I’ve got something for you”, at which point Delilah would be overcome with desire and begin to fellate her partner’s rubber phallus (which I don’t really get—who wins there?) before eventually laying back for a good old fashioned rogering by Kiki.

Delays were encountered, however, when Kiki found the to-be-inserted U part too large for smooth inserting (“It’s so it stays in,” Bourke offered helpfully). It was quite the sight, let me tell you, to see this young woman squatting nude in the middle of a room trying to ram something into her holiest of holies with all the delicateness and accompanying faces you might make while trying to open a really tight jar. Thankfully, a shit-ton of kiwi-strawberry-flavoured lube and elbow grease overcame the issue and we were underway.

This time, there was no video screen mediation to take me out of the real human, physical reality of what was going on. I stood in the open plan living-room/kitchen of a Better Homes and Gardens-style terrace house, my jaw down to here, while two objectively and seriously gorgeous young women preposterously called Kiki and Delilah engaged in the kind of crazed, double-ended-rubberised-tool-assisted, filthy language, “fucking choke me!”, shrieking-orgasm type of sex only previously witnessed via YouTube-ish windows expanded in the flickering blue light of dark and shameful hours. At one point I caught the stills photographer staring at me with an unashamed grin and I realised that my face had assumed some kind of psychotic rictus—all bulging eyes and bitten lips, eyebrows somewhere on the top of my head.

When the coital fury subsided, my ears were ringing. I turned my phone back on and realised I had to leave—in fact was already late—for a pre-dinner drink with my wife. Shell-shocked, I weakly thanked everyone for allowing me to observe their strange world and made to leave, thoroughly dazed and weak in the knees. Bourke saw me out and asked me what I was planning to write. I told him I didn’t know, that I was going to have to let it sink in a while. He grinned and nodded. “But it was kinda hot right?” he said. I agreed it was something all right.

Minutes later I was at a suburban tram stop surrounded by nice normal people who presumably hadn’t spent their day watching beautiful strangers put parts of themselves inside other beautiful strangers and I had the distinct sensation that they, the nice normal people, somehow sensed what I’d been up to—like I was emitting a neon halo of superheated sex-plasma. All night I could swear people were giving me weird looks. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant.


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