Rated X: How Porn Liberated Me from Hollywood

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I wasn’t supposed to want this, I was sure of that. This wasn’t David Hasselhoff or some Love in the Afternoon soap opera hunk. This was just some kid I knew. I was supposed to wait for some dazzling moment where the birds were singing, and violin music was playing, and a man in a tuxedo would give me my happily ever after. But Daniel was a boy, and I was a girl who didn’t quite feel like a girl anymore. And I wanted to feel like a real woman, if only for a few stolen moments on the grass. I know that some boys kept her from realizing who she was, from pursuing her own dreams. Then she became a wife and a mother. I had gone to that wedding. It was the kind of wedding I wanted, with pink flowers and Disney ice sculptures, and where the bride wears a dress with tiers like cake layers. They even brought her there in a carriage that sort of looked like Cinderella’s, if Cinderella rode in more of an SUV-type pumpkin arrangement. Everyone thought she was an angel. The ideal daughter. My dad wasn’t weird enough to do a purity dance, but wouldn’t he still want to see his daughter honest in white when she danced with him? Hey, part of the deal was tits,” he said to me, motioning for me to take off my shirt. I lifted it away and then nodded permission for him to take off the bra. I felt myself shaking as he watched me sitting there, tits out and bare to him. He had only squeezed them under my shirt before, and he had never stared. His eyeballs were glued to them now. “Those are some nice ones,” he said. After I determined he had enough to remember them by, I made him turn out the lights.

Rated X : How Porn Liberated Me from Hollywood - Google Books Rated X : How Porn Liberated Me from Hollywood - Google Books

I’m sorry,” I said, gathering myself, but some snorts escaped even as I bit my lip to stop them. He was now losing concentration and confidence. I knew I had to instill within him some masculinity again. I was acutely aware that if I could remain around the age of seven for the rest of my life, I would make my family proud. Seven, I thought, would be an age where when you danced around the living room in a Cinderella dress, they’d applaud you, but the glass slippers wouldn’t yet pose any real threat. It’s an odd thing to realize no one wants you to grow up when you’re actively doing that. I walked home from school with the same kids in the first grade as I did in the eighth, and I could smell what was cooking for dinner the second my mother greeted me at the door. In the afternoons, my mother and I would watch soap operas, and then I’d play Star Wars with my dogs and cats in a big yard with a little frog pond that was shaded with avocado trees. Our springer spaniel was always Chewie, and I was always Princess Leia. At dusk, I’d sit at the front window and wait for my father’s car to turn into the driveway. Those headlights and that turn and my dad’s footsteps walking up our porch were predictable. Every girl should take for granted that her dad will always come home. She proceeded to explain how she did it, which involved wide, circular hip movements and some Nivea pump lotion. I just watched as the water whirlpooled around her as she demonstrated motions that looked less erotic and more like something that would earn fish at Sea World. “Next week,” she said, “I may try inserting a tampon.”Listen,” I said. “Just so you know, this isn’t something all special and gushy.” I cringed as soon as I said “gushy.”“I mean, I just want to experience something for the first time, so I’ll never have to experience it for the first time again.”

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Talk to him,” my grandmother said, pointing to the frame. “Just tell him whatever you did bad today, and you’ll be forgiven.” I looked away fast from David Hasselhoff. “Unless it’s drugs or premarital sex,” she said. “Then you’ll have to be burned at the stake by the Beast because you’ll never get up in the Rapture.” When I apologized to my picture of Jesus that night, I told him how sorry I was for giving in to my lust, but then I paused and said to Jesus, “But at least no one knows about it but us.”Don’t give it up to any man who won’t commit to paying your bills,” my grandmother once said after giving me the talk about the cows and the mooching pervert who drank all that free milk from the fast titties. She thought this was encouragement for me to uphold my virtue; it turns out it was a solid business model for OnlyFans. I’m unapologetic about sex…but I think it’s me in my truth and everything,” she told Yahoo Life. “When I was young, I was so apologetic for so many years. I will never apologize anymore.” I spent a lot of time alone. I didn’t have any siblings or first cousins or much family at all around, but I was loved—so much so that I felt guilty whenever I played away from home too long. Family consisted of my mom and dad and my grandmother on my father’s side, whose love of gardening and her obsession with the Rapture always had her at odds with the natural elements. “They say Jesus is coming this year,” she’d say. “I wonder if my grapefruits will have come in.” So much casual planning for the end of the world made me feel at home in a controlled state of chaos. They knew what we were up to,” Daniel said, pacing his room, as I just lay there with my nice hair and no follow-through.

Boy Meets World Actress Turned Porn Star Says Hollywood Is

I felt all-around cheated in the first kiss department. The one that I kind-of-maybe-wanted but pushed away, and the one I had that was okay because it wasn’t real left me susceptible to shingles for the rest of my life. His grandmother thought he couldn’t handle such a hostile environment for middle school, so she found a smaller arrangement. I didn’t see him again until ninth grade. Somehow he forgave me for that assault on the schoolyard, and we talked in secret on the phone every night.What if I was your boyfriend?” he asked me once and then attempted to blow bubbles of strawberry Quik from his nose at the lunch table. It didn’t work; he kept choking and half suffocating himself before it sprayed out all over creation. The truth is, I couldn’t think of any worse way to lose your virginity than on your wedding night. I could never admit this to anyone—not my mother, not the church girls, and definitely not my grandmother, although she’d probably just tell me to become a nun as long as I was still a Baptist. Why would I want to worry about bleeding all over my new husband? Or wonder the whole way through the ceremony if my vagina might split open later? And how embarrassing to think that everyone at my reception would know the precise date and time that it all happened. For open-minded readers, an exceptional narrative that champions the discovery of freedom in sexuality. I reached a deal with Jesus that night: he would keep my sin a secret from everyone, and I’d keep our PR game strong. An empowering, sex-positive, behind-the-scenes look at both Hollywood and the porn industry in this celebrity memoir unlike any other. Perfect for fans of Pleasure Activism and How to Make Love Like a Porn Star.

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Actress/model/cosplay personality Ward provides insight into the often taboo subject of pornography film entertainment with this title. While there are many other porn star autobiographies (from Jenna Jamison and Asa Akira among others), there are very few coming from the perspective of mainstream actresses crossing over into this genre. Ward started her acting career in her teens (notably the sitcom Boy Meets World). She details her experiences working in Hollywood, mentioning well-known names and the harsh realities of working in the industry. She speaks about her professional and personal life, weaving tawdry details about her sexual exploits along the way. As she ages, traditional film/television opportunities eventually dry up and her phone stops ringing. Through a natural desire for exhibition and the type of affirmation it provides, she slowly morphs into an award-winning adult film actress. Ward's honesty and reflection on the industry is often mixed with a steady sense of humor, but the details provided are not intended for those easily offended. VERDICT This memoir is an honest account of the transition from Hollywood to adult film actress. The explicit details provided and style of writing may limit its audience. —Gary Medina Library Journal verifyErrors }}{{ message }}{{ /verifyErrors }}{{ An insider’s account of the rampant misconduct within the Trump administration, including the tumult surrounding the insurrection of Jan. 6, 2021. We didn’t do anything more than talk about sex or masturbation until we were thirteen and had already been inserting tampons for some months. We were in my grandmother’s guest room when something happened. She was sleeping over, and we wanted to feel what a real French kiss was like. We had bought some good panties at the mall, and we finally discovered what they did. They were scratchy, they rode up your butt, and we spent so much money on them we couldn’t go to a movie. But I liked the way she kissed me and how tingly I felt when her body was pressed to mine. Between both of them, my grandma and my mother, sex became a game of outrunning the enemy—namely, boys. I knew what to look for and how to escape. But what left me awake and guilty and praying to a little gold-rimmed photo of Jesus every night were the hormones that were raging inside me. In my panties? I was nearly twelve and didn’t know anything about my vagina except that I peed from it and one day soon I’d bleed from it too.