An American in Paris
An American in Paris
I’m writing this blog from Paris, or, more specifically, from a suburb just Southeast of Paris. I’m halfway through my trip and it’s time for me to book scenes for upcoming shoots in L.A. I will be spending a few evenings drafting budgets and writing scripts so that when I get back home, everything will be ready to go.
I refer to myself as an “accidental Francophile” because I sort of fell into circumstances that led to my allegiance to this country and culture. In high school I’d wanted to learn Spanish, because it seemed more practical, but French was the only language course that fit into my schedule. After my first year, I showed a real aptitude for the language and skipped a level the following year. I continued to study French in college, and then either by virtue of knowing the language or some unseen forces I found myself (romantically and otherwise) in relationships with French people visiting the United States. As a performer/director I’ve had the pleasure of shooting and working with some outstanding French talent: Liza Del Sierra, Melissa Lauren, Ian Scott, Greg Centauro, Lou Charmelle, and Manuel Ferrara. I am looking forward to the opportunity to work with Katsuni very soon, as she is on my short list of performers with whom I would like to shoot. There is a very matter-of-fact approach to sex and to shooting sex that I’ve observed while shooting French performers—an aspect I’ve seen reflected in the culture itself. I’ve always said that what I love most about French culture is that it manages to be both incredibly cynical and hopelessly romantic at the same time. It’s a culture that bluntly acknowledges that transgressions are part of human nature and to be expected (Mais bien sur!) while looking deeply into your eyes.
I’ve had the pleasure of shooting Liza Del Sierra three times: once for Manuel Ferrara’s Phat Bottom Girls series, and then for Red Light District and Sweetheart Video. Liza is beautiful with and without makeup—Manuel has compared her to Marion Cotillard, a description that is not far off at all—and as a performer she is intense and amazing. Her body seems designed for sex. Her rump is round and bouncy, made to grab, squeeze and fuck; her breasts are full and ripe. She has an inviting mouth and her eyes are big, bright and searching. I stared into them while fucking her ass POV with a strap-on. It was incredibly gratifying. Add to this her throaty voice, which is sexy, especially when she laughs. I think she should do books on tape. If she read Proust’s “Remebrance Of Things Past” out loud to me, I think I could actually finish it. She’s a very vocal performer—though not in a way that I find distracting. Her cries during sex are earnest declarations of passion and pleas: Vas-y putain!
I shot Liza with Michael Stefano and then with James Deen and London Keyes in a 3-way. She was so extraordinary that I decided to put her with Sinn Sage for Sweetheart, to see how she would do in a girl/girl only situation. If you read my last blog post, then you know that I think Sinn Sage is the greatest thing since Xanax and drive-thru Starbucks. Watching her with Liza was unbelievable. There are a lot of situations where Sinn is called upon to “carry” a scene—when her partner has lukewarm energy, is nervous and/or inexperienced. Liza proved to be a welcome respite, meeting Sinn each step of the way throughout the scene with hot wet kisses, jaw-dropping ass play and passionate oral sex. I’m always happy when the scene is finished but the girls want to keep going, and these two were seriously sex-drunk.
I would love to fuck Liza myself one of these days. Maybe the next time she comes to L.A. I had partial sex with her in the intro to the scene with James Deen and London Keyes, and it was awesome. I want to eat flan off of her stomach while drinking espresso. I’m totally serious.
Speaking of flan, I’m obsessed with it. I wake up every morning and have a moment of anxiety where I think “what if, for some reason, I can’t have flan today? What am I going to do?” There are these boulangeries called Paul—they’re like a chain—all over Paris, and that’s where I often procure my flan. You can find them in the train stations, too.
This concludes my blog post. I need more coffee...and flan.
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