Insatiable: Porn — a Love Story

Grove Press

New York

Copyright © 2014 by Asa Akira

Jacket design and artwork (c) David Choe Author photograph by Van Style

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Scanning, uploading, and electronic distribution of this book or the facilitation of such without the permission of the publisher is prohibited. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. Any member of educational institutions wishing to photocopy part or all of the work for classroom use, or anthology, should send inquiries to Grove/Atlantic, Inc., 154 West 14th Street, New York, NY 10011 or
[email protected]
.

Published simultaneously in Canada

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN: 978-0-8021-2259-9

eBook ISBN: 978-0-8021-9259-2

Grove Press

an imprint of Grove/Atlantic, Inc.

154 West 14th Street

New York, NY 10011

Distributed by Publishers Group West

www.groveatlantic.com

To my parents. But please don’t read it.

Contents

Author’s Note

1 The Perfect Scene

2 Hooking

Letter to Mom

Haiku

3 Penis Envy

4 Nutcracker Suite

5 Liar Liar

Haiku

6 Crime and Punishment

7 Art of the Blowbang

8 Girls

Haiku

9 Florida

Shit Pornstars Say

10 No Sex in the Champagne Room

Haiku

11 Glory

12 Rule of Twos

Haiku

13 Giving Thanks

Haiku

14 Craigslist

14½ Dee

Diary

15 The Other End of the Stick

A Breakup Letter

Haiku

16 Food Porn

17 Nerves

Letter to My Future Child

18 ONE

Acknowledgments

Author’s Note

I started this book hoping to shed a different light on the industry I love so much. Not to say every day is sunshine and flowers, but I don’t feel a healthy, honest voice of someone currently looking from the inside out has been heard.

While writing, the book morphed into something more. I’ve always questioned why I am the way I am. I had a normal upbringing. My parents are loving, kind, and present. I have no mental disorders. Why am I so sexual? Why do I insist on publicizing my most intimate moments?

I can’t say that I’ve found an answer—but writing this book has oddly brought me to peace with myself. At the end of the day, I do feel my sexual cravings as a woman are normal, and should be accepted as such by society. It’s bullshit that a man who fucks a thousand women is considered a badass, while a woman doing the same thing is shunned. I’m not ashamed that I’ve worked at an S&M dungeon, stripped, escorted, or that I currently have sex for money every day. On the contrary, I’m proud of myself for having the guts to indulge in my desires.

The world has seen every fold of my most private body parts, and yet, I feel this book is my most exposing venture yet. I hope you enjoy.

P.S. Some (but not all) of the names I use in the book have been changed.

1
The Perfect Scene

“Rolling and . . . action.”

Bobby was going down on Monica. I stood behind the camera, watching. Narrowing his eyes at me, Bobby buried his face in Monica’s pussy as he took his cock out to stroke. It was growing harder by the second, and my pussy grew wetter in unison, as if the two were synced. I watched Monica arch her back every time Bobby sucked on her clit and brought her closer to orgasm.

“Come on, fucking come,” I mentally whispered. It would be my cue to join them.

I was playing a hooker today. Bobby and Monica were playing a curious couple who hired me. There’s something oddly self-referential about playing a hooker in a porno—I was getting paid to portray a woman who got paid to have sex. And also, of course, to have sex. It’s like a Russian dolls of sex workers.

As Monica’s body twitched, I walked in front of the camera and cupped my hand over her mouth. I gave her one last chance to gasp for air before clamping down on her face, and rubbed her clit hard as Bobby stuck his dick in her. No matter how aggressively she turned and twisted, I wouldn’t let her go, and I wouldn’t stop rubbing. She continued orgasming for another ten seconds, her muffled screams occasionally escaping through the cracks in my fingers, until I let her free to breathe. As she came down from the intensity, I kissed my way up from her knee to her toes, which curled when Bobby hit a good spot with his cock.

Bobby’s cock is great for porn. Big, straight, all one color. It was shiny from the juice coming out of Monica’s pussy, making it look as if Monica was giving birth to it. I dived down to suck the slime off, and as I put it back inside her pussy, I spit on my finger and slid it slowly into her asshole. She yelled for more and I stuck another one in. I watched Bobby’s dick go in and out of her pussy as I slid my fingers in and out of her ass. I could feel the camera over my shoulder, catching a close-up of the mesmerizing motion.

We made her come again, and I pushed Bobby out of the frame as I climbed on top of Monica to kiss her, then farther up her body until my pussy was on her face. She quickly took my cue to eat me out until I came, collapsing onto my back. Aware of the camera closing in on my face, I eye-fucked Bobby’s cock and licked my lips. It wasn’t hard to portray—I needed dick. I enjoy getting my pussy eaten as much as the next girl, but when there’s a cock in the picture, it feels kind of like going to a steak house and ordering the fish.

Like cock-hungry animals, Monica and I took turns riding Bobby’s dick for the following three positions. Finally, as Monica pushed her ass back on Bobby, I got down and licked Bobby’s ass. The Euro boys like that. Bobby moaned, and I could tell he was close to cumming. I kept licking, until he finally reached around and pulled me away from his ass by my hair. He grabbed Monica by the head as well, and placed us both on our knees in front of him and came on our faces, and in our mouths. With the cum still dripping off my face, Bobby dragged me up by my arm and bent me over the sofa in the back, and fucked me until I reached another orgasm. I dropped to my knees and crawled to Monica. I spit the remaining cum from my mouth to her pussy. Using my knee to push my hand, my fingers stuffed the cum into her. I fucked her like that until she crossed her eyes and lost it one last time. We made out as our hearts slowed down from racing, and the director yelled “Cut!”

Once in a great while, it happens: the Perfect Scene. It’s when everyone, both performers and crew, are all completely synced in energy. Every position, every transition flows organically. The performers lose themselves sexually, yet are fully aware of the camera at all times; the penetration is always on display. The lighting is impeccable, no weird shadows or flares. Animalistic, fluids everywhere, sweat, spit, squirt; the energy is at 100 percent the entire thirty-five minutes, with no cuts. Perhaps a crazy position is invented; standing reverse scissors against a spiral staircase.

You recognize it’s happening about halfway through, and once the guy releases a healthy pop shot and the scene is finished, the whole team acknowledges it. The excitement in the room is unmistakable, and everyone’s voices are at least a pitch higher than before the shoot started.

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