The porn star

By Richard Jasper 
3 parts
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Part 1

By the time I was 10 I realized I was different than the other boys…and not just because it was clear to me, even then, that I liked other boys!

It was my dick. Apparently it was huge. Whenever I was in the gym or at camp the other guys would comment on it. The girls would point at me and giggle (God, that was embarrassing!) My teachers, the ones who weren’t oblivious, either frowned or developed a case of very wide eyes when they first became aware of it.

I remember one time I was sitting on the john in the stall in the boy’s bathroom and there were guys on either side standing on the potty trying to look over and others trying to look under the door. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said, standing up and flinging open the stall door, my pants still around my ankles. “Is that what you want to see?”

At eight inches—soft—it was already bigger than (most of) theirs would ever be, bigger than their dads’, bigger (given that most of them would grow up to be straight) that they’d ever see. Of course, even at 10 it was rarely soft. Puberty had kicked in—early, naturally—and I already had pubic hair and I was springing boners at the drop of a hat. Hard it was 10 inches.

After that I got savvy and started charging for it, $5 to look at it, $10 to touch it. Did that make me a perv? I couldn’t tell you. It did keep me stocked in comic books, bubble gum, and video games. My mom never could quite figure out how I managed considering my allowance was pretty skimpy, her being a single mom and all (my dad died when I was 2 years old and she never remarried; I was an only child.)

I got my growth spurt when I was 12 and my dick seemed to want to keep up with me. At 5’10” tall, I was taller than most of my classmates. And with 12 thick inches I was bigger than most porn stars. By that time we had a VCR and before mom got home from work I would sometimes entertain myself with her porn tapes. I ignored the women and concentrated on the guys. John Holmes had a great dick although it looked kinda skinny from my point of view. And, man, he really wasn’t the most attractive guy on the block, was he?

Then one summer I was visiting my Uncle Charlie, mom’s younger brother, and found HIS porn stash. Much more to my liking. Marc Wolf and Carl Hardwick and Dirk Diggler. I was in heaven. I realized a few things that summer:

1. I really loved muscles.

2. I really loved hairy men.

3. I really love hairy men with muscles.

By the time I was 15 I had stopped growing taller, reaching 6’2”—skinny as a rail and hairless as a Chihuahua, 150 pounds dripping wet. On the other hand… My dick had stopped growing, too, but soft it was 11 x 8 and hard it was 15 x 11.

“You’re a fucking monster.” I was in the locker room with Trey Klinker, the high school’s star quarterback, trying not to get hard. Trey was my height but at 18 he was 3 years older and 225 pounds of ripped muscle, a nice hairy chest, an awesome treasure trail running down his rock hard abs, and a sex goatee
mustache. He was god, from my point of view. Of course, next to mine, his dick wasn’t much to speak of, although by that time I’d come to realize that his 9 inches was way above average. “You’re a fucking monster,” he repeated.

I blushed.

“I want to see it hard,” he continued. I let out a sigh. “Well, that’s gonna cost you,” I said. “The going rate…” He interrupted me. “I know what the going rate is,” he replied. “I’ve got something better than that.” And then he flexed his right arm. “20 inches cold,” he pointed out.

sproing

I was instantly, fully, achingly hard. That was payment enough!

As it turned out, Trey was my first boyfriend. Kinda spoiled me, really. Only guy who ever took it all on the first try. And then repaid the compliment. I realized right then I was versatile with a capital V, although right then I didn’t know that was the term that described my preference. Trey also got me started on the weights.

“You know, the sad thing is that you don’t even have to try,” he told me one day. “You like big muscle and most muscle only likes other muscle but almost all of them will make an exception in your case. Huge is huge, whether it’s muscle… or dick!”

But I wanted the muscle, too, and it turned out that I was as good at growing muscle as I was growing a dick. The first year I put on 50 pounds of solid muscle. I was 16 and 200 pounds, about the same size Trey had been at that age. (Of course, after a year at State he was up to 250 and had moved from QB to defensive lineman.) The second year I did the same thing. And the third, too. By the time I graduated from high school, I was up to 300 pounds of solid muscle, with a 60 inch chest, 24 inch biceps, 32 inch quads, and a 32 inch waist. They wanted me at State, man did they want me.

“You’re a monster,” they said and they weren’t talking about my dick. Trey, their star player, weighed as much as I did but he didn’t have 5% bodyfat and he wasn’t benching 900 pounds for reps, not by a long shot. And he was 21, not 18. For me, though, it was California or nothing, specifically Venice Beach but I settled on Cal State Long Beach. Trey, disappointed that I didn’t follow him to State, broke it off with me.

Oh, well. I hadn’t told him but by that time I’d settled on a career choice:

I wanted to be a porn star.

I figured California was the place to be.

Part 2

Once I got to California I took my time exploring the porn scene.

First and foremost I wanted to do well in school. It didn’t take me long to figure out that a joint degree in Marketing and Public Relations would give me the most bang for the buck. Between that and endless hours in the gym, there wasn’t much time left over for a social life.

By the time my sophomore year rolled around I decided it was time to do some shopping around. I started out by watching lots and lots and lots of gay porn (some straight stuff, too) and compiling a list of directors and producers who seemed like they’d be good matches. ChiChi LaRue, Michael Lucas, Paul Morris, Matthew Moore, and a few others. And then I went about meeting them. That was an interesting experience, to say the least. I mean, how do you go about it? Well, there are ways. (And, yes, I’m being coy.) Over the course of a semester I met most of them and all of them, repeat all of them, wanted me. And how not?

By that time I was up to 325 pounds of solid muscle and my fur had started to come in, chest, arms, legs, a spiffy treasure trail, and facial stubble for days. It was clear that I was going to be one furry fuck. Plus every year my face seemed to be that much more masculine. Oh, and: The voice. You know Patrick Warburton, right? The guy who played The Tick. Big guy, very sexy, very deep, very masculine voice. Next to me he sounded like Minnie Mouse.

But I wasn’t ready.

“I want to do it the right way,” I said. “I want to stick around. I don’t want to be a flash in the pan.”

I ended up with Burke Bogarde, who was sort of the second choice for most of the major studios, including Falcon and Colt and All Worlds. “You’re going to be a niche commodity,” Burke explained. “Everyone likes the dick but some people aren’t gonna go for the muscles. And the fur is fucking hot but there are plenty of guys out there who only want smooth, not to mention the women.”

I grinned. “Two things,” I told him. “First, I want to learn what you do before I learn what they do.” And second? “I’m my own niche.”

Which gave him pause for thought. I hate to say it but an awful lot of my fellow entertainers are handsome, hung, and built and about as smart as a box of rocks. I mean, who goes into porn if they have enough brains for a real career? (Well, aside from Rusty Jeffers, that is…) Burke was beginning to realize that I had dick and muscles—and brains—to spare. “The usual route…”

I shook my head. “Look at me, Burke,” I said. I stepped closer to him. I was about 4 inches taller than he was and at least a foot wider. I put one huge hand on his shoulder, the other huge hand on my rapidly swelling meat. Burke was a hot, healthy dude, 200 pounds of ripped muscle, and there he was looking up at a mountain, feeling like a little kid. “How many guys can pull this off?” He licked his lips. “Chris Duffy could, on a good day, way back when,” he muttered. He seemed to be lost in my chest fur, so I had to put my big thick finger under his chin and lifted it up so that he was looking me in the eyes. “In a couple of years I’m going to be so much bigger than I am now you’ll be thinking ‘I knew him when he was just a skinny kid.’ Do you really think ‘the usual route’ is going to work for me?”

Which is how I became Burke’s production assistant, camera man, lighting and sound guy, substitute director, you name it. I did everything except clothes, hair and make-up (I like to think I’m multi-talented but you don’t want me to try to do anything with a pair of scissors; whenever I pick up a pair my fingers invariably try to go into the thumb hole!) And, yeah, I became his boyfriend, too. It wasn’t a quid pro quo, not really, and it would be hard to say who was getting the quid, who was getting the quo. By that time I’d pretty much given up trying to find anyone who could top me (you needed a good 10 inches at least to get past my glutes and start knocking on my back door) and unlike most bottoms (who could barely manage half of me) Burke got to the point (after half a dozen attempts) he could take almost all of it.

Three months after graduating from CSULB my debut video was released. We produced it on a shoestring budget, Colt, Falcon, and All Worlds having turned us down. In it I fucked, sucked, dominated, manhandled, intimidated, wrestled, lifted, compared myself to, and generally enjoyed myself with half a dozen other guys, representing the full gamut of porn types: The blond-haired, blue-eyed, smooth-as-silk baby face twink with the 10 inch dick; the two thirty-something bodybuilders, one white, one black; the stogie-chomping, big-bellied, hairy as hell powerlifting daddy bear; and a couple of average joes, medium height, medium build, late 20s, nice dicks but nothing to write home about.

By that time I weighed I was up to 400 pounds of gigantic, herculean, mind-blowing muscle. With an 80 inch chest, 32 inch biceps, a 40 inch waist, and 40 inch quads, I was so much bigger than all of them that it was, well, frankly ridiculous. Except for the bodybuilders and the daddy bear I was as big as any two of them put together. In the case of the twink, Joey Somebody, I was literally three-times his size.

“Monster” was the name of the video and “Monster” was my porn name. No surprise, right? It wasn’t like “Roger Jones” was going to sell a lot of videos.

Within a month we had sold a million copies and by the end of the year sales had reached 4 million. It was a sensation, to say the least. And to date it’s still the best-selling porno of all times, more than 10 million copies. It made Burke rich. It didn’t make ME rich, which I hadn’t really expected, but I was more than a little peeved when I figured out just how much Burke took in and just how much didn’t dribble down to me.

We broke up.

It was time to move on.

Part 3

So I started my own production company and the rest, as they say, is history. I turn out three or four new videos every year, each one more successful than the last (although the original “Monster” is still the best seller, mostly for the nostalgia value), none of which sells less than a million copies.

Except for me, the casts vary and the scenes are shuffled. I’ve done it with everyone and just about every way you can imagine (no creepy stuff, though!) Just good old, red-blooded American sex.

The only constant is that I keep growing. In six years I have gained another 150 pounds of muscle. Yeah, you read that right, an extra 150 pounds of muscle on top of what was already a Herculean 400-pound physique. At 6’2” tall, I’m quite likely the largest, most muscular man who has ever lived. The stats are mind-boggling:

110 inch chest
55 inch waist
60 inch quads
48 inch biceps
44 inch neck
44 inch calves
38 inch forearms.

The numbers don’t do justice to the physical reality of my hulking presence. I’m the same height as guys like Ryan Kennelly and Derek Poundstone, two of the biggest strongest men in the world, but I outweigh each of them by 200 pounds. And unlike them, I’m ridiculously ripped as well as ridiculously huge. I’m twice the size of your average, 275-pound NFL linebacker. I’m three times the size of an average, 180-pound American male. And then there was those little dudes from Aceh I met when I visited Bali that time. They averaged about 5’6” tall and 110 pounds. I weighed more than the four them put together!

So, yeah, I’m huge, a monster in fact as well as name. And monstrously strong, too. My bud Ryan, the powerlifter, holds the world’s competitive record in the bench press, about 1050 pounds. I’ve never bothered to compete—didn’t seem fair—and I’ve never actually tried to figure out my maximum bench. I’m guessing it’s about 3 times what Ryan benches. Considering I can curl his max weight for reps Ryan figures my guess is probably pretty accurate.

Sometimes I wonder whether I’ll finally stop growing and, if so, the videos will stop selling. Somehow I’m guessing that’s not the case. People don’t seem to get enough of me. Wherever I go, they want me. Men, women, old, young, straight, gay, it doesn’t seem to matter. It’s like I’m the Grand Canyon or Mount Everest, something impossible and unthinkable, but there I am, right in front of them, a living, breathing mountain of muscle. (Getting to them, of course, is a bit of a trick. I’m too big to fly on commercial airlines so it’s private jets or friends with super yachts. For short hauls I have a custom RV and a driver.)

In the meantime, I’m a millionaire many times over, with a custom built home (one that can accommodate my unusual dimensions) in Long Beach. In addition to the videos there are the performances, the guest appearances, the magazine articles (the ones where I’ve been featured, the ones I’ve authored), the Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube accounts. And in the last year it seems I’ve been spilling over into the mainstream media. When teasers for your next porno get 10 million hits on YouTube, the Interwebs sit up and take notice.

Will I be for porn what Arnold was for bodybuilding?

It’s possible.

There have already been articles in the mainstream media about my being “the porn sensation of the 21st century” and the usual puritans tsk-tsking my endowments and “what does it all mean?” and implying “nothing good” was the only answer. I’ve chatted with a couple of documentary filmmakers (you know, people whose work shows up on Nature and NOVA and American Masters) who have said, “You know, I’d really like to put something together…” Thus far I haven’t felt the time was right.

Maybe after Trey and I get married…

Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.

The day after “Monster” came out he sent me a message on Facebook. He flew out to California the next day and we’ve been together ever since. He doesn’t mind the porn (and not remotely interested in doing it) and he’s totally hooked on bodybuilding. These days he’s up to 350 pounds in the off-season and regularly places in the Top 5 at the annual Mr. Olympia contest. He’s consistently the biggest man there but thus far he hasn’t been able to break the tall guy jinx. Maybe next year.

And, yeah, he’s completely and totally open and honest about our relationship. That homophobic old s.o.b. Joe Weider took one look at me when we went to talk about a contract for him and didn’t even blink. “If it sells covers, I’d be meshugeh to object,” he declaimed in that raspy shtetl accent. “And you, my friend, sell covers!”

At the end of the day I’m just a gay boy with two dogs (mastiffs, Diva and Rupa, about 200 pounds each, they like to sit on my lap) and a hot, hunky, huge muscle husband who likes nothing better to have me stuff 15 inches of iron up his ass after spending an afternoon pushing thousands of pounds of weights around. What more could I want?

Check in with me again a year from now and I’ll let you know!


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