The Comeback

California will always be beautiful.
No matter what we do to it.

On first glance not much has changed in the last twenty eight years, the buildings have become more ostentatious, the roads wider, the cars bigger, advertising has become king.
A landscape of billboards selling the next must have, cant live without.

But despite mans need to industrialise and over populate, natures resilience beats loud and clear as the Pacific crashes onto the palm covered sands. Its people deaf to the beat of its drum.
Its only when you scratch away at the aesthetic charm that you discover the underbelly of this City, squirming and slithering beneath.
Only then do you realise the changes, the society that underpins this gorgeous state has become vapid soul less and plastic. So lacking in direction, driven only by the pursuit of vanity.

I wash down a cocktail of Vocadine and Viagra with a vitamin enriched protein shake, as I try to stroke some life into my flaccid cock.

Just as nature absorbs the bad times the human body wears it like a 5 dollar tattoo.
Skin sags, teeth stain, eyes cloud, muscles atrophy, hair falls out and arteries clog.
We have a very definite shelf life.
Mine was at the ripe age of 28, when my agent informed me that people wont pay good money to watch an old man fuck.

In the Porn industry, you have to make your salad days count. The viewing public are fickle and the harsh lights of a studio cruel. Time is not to be wasted.

28, that was the last time I fucked for money, and the last time I was in California, sat at the swimming pool over looking La Jolla Cove from the Pleasure Dome Studio Mansion.

The good old days.
Before live streaming porn, before pay per view, before fisting, before double anal, before 500 strong gangbangs, before bukkake, before testicle tucks, before lipo and augmentation, digital uploads, tube sites, gagging and everything Japanese. Every thing that ruined an honest trade.
Before fantasy became available at the click of a button, every desire and perversion justified and accessible.

28 years ago I was the man.
The Adult Video Industry had awarded me Best Male for 6 consecutive years, I was earning 10 million bucks a year, plus royalties from my 56 films.
The ten inch by six inch piece of flesh that hung between my legs could raise sales of 200,000 copies per release.
I was truly blessed.

Beautiful stars jostled to be the next one to perform with me, knowing that what ever I fucked would turn to solid gold. I had the Midas Cock and what came out of it, thick liquid success.
Casting directors got their dick sucked nearly as often as I did, as upcoming starlets bartered to a get a part in Jack Hammers new film.

Jack Hammer.
That was me and life was good.
I owned property from San Diego to Santa Barbra, half of which I hadn’t set foot in. Private jets and limos were the only transport I knew, I travelled the world and I got paid to fuck.

The makeup girl disturbs my reminiscence , asking me to get on all fours so that she can pluck any stray hairs from my bleached asshole left over from the last wax job. A hairy ball sack is something we didn’t worry about in the good old days.

I didn’t treat my job lightly, I was a craftsman..
Back in the day I was at the top of my game. I was a method actor, each scene needed to be treated uniquely, its not just about screwing.
I would research my co stars frame and abilities and fuck her accordingly. Depending on a woman’s build, certain positions will just look amateur and clumsy.
Sat on my dick, I could make anyone look good.
By the day of shooting I would have the whole shoot choreographed, each scene perfect and edit free.
Diet and physical condition was paramount, my meals were weighed out and nutritionally correct so that my cum was the right colour, consistency and volume.
Sleep and exercise meant that I could raise a hard on at command and hold back the money shot for hours just for the right cinematic moment.

No need for Viagra in the good old days.

The ones I took earlier are now directing my blood flow to the right places.
The makeup girl asks me to lie on my back so that she can apply powder and foundation to my
twitching member.

Jack Hammers House of the Horny series was what really made me a household name.
Being the tireless professional, I wanted to hone my craft to the next level.
I began to direct and star in my own series of 90 minute features, with suspense, romance, action and of course hard core penetration.
Each production, eagerly awaited and capable of selling 200,000 copies within 6 months of release
I played Cops, Doctors, Scientists, Politicians, Gardeners, plumbers and Butlers. All with a 10 inch cock and a highly skilled way making sex look like an art form.

This was where I met my ex wife, Crystal Canyons. Or Lisa as I knew her.
We met on the set of LA Nymphos.
I was a Biochemist searching for a drug to stop the population of LA turning into nymphomaniacs, after a strange meteor storm that made any girl under 25 want to sleep with any random male or female in sight, and she, my trusted lab assistant.

I remember how her emerald eyes sparkled in the sunlight as she looked up at me stretching her lips around the head of my cock. She didn’t have the glassy eyed stare of most of the coked up co stars I’d worked with, there was promise in those eyes.
As she pulled me out of her mouth and I came on her beautiful, natural 38DD tits, I knew I was in love.
It was a memorable scene that won us another award as best Porn couple.

Other people have photos of their romance, on beaches and parties, we have LA Nymphos.

Together we lived the dream, our intimate moments a commodity.

But that was then, the good old days, before everything went to shit.

It was 1991 and the internet was no longer the troublesome toddler we thought it to be and was now a rampaging teenager.
Porn will always dictate any new technologies success, it’s the reason, BetaMax video cassettes were pushed aside for the porn medium of choice, VHS.

My movies steadily lost sales as masturbatory material could be accessed for free.
I soon became obsolete. Pushed aside for the next upgrade.
Porn was no longer about two people fucking, it was about extremes that would change at light speed.
It was about punching and spitting, aggression and exploitation.
The industry was constantly looking for a different way of doing it but with all the values of a shopping cart full of tin cans.
To make ends meet I became a stunt cock, a stand in when these new amateurs couldn’t last a 2 hour shoot.
Digital editing making a 2 hour break and a limp dick look seamless.

In the flick of a wrist I had gone from the golden boy of porn to a faceless piece of meat.

Once the money stopped coming in and the day to day troubles of repayments and unemployment reared its ugly head our relationship fell to pieces.
Crystal and I divorced in 94 and hadn’t spoken for 18 years, until today.

Called out of retirement, our agent offered us a last chance to regain our glory days for one last shoot.
Maybe, this was our comeback, maybe people had grown tired of the new disposable porn and gone back to basics, back to the good old days, finally appreciating tradition over fad.

After the split, Crystal had turned her skills to a live niche market on the site CougarClub.com. Apparently teenage boys have quite a thing for the older lady.
Spending her days behind the sickly glow of a web cam inserting things in herself at the whim of some spotty adolescent with his fathers credit card. But after a while no amount of vaginal surgery or botox could disguise her dwindling years, hence finding herself at the same studio that we first met all those years ago.
In the good old days.

Across the pool Lisa has arrived, with a brief wave in my direction she slips out of her robe and reclines on a sun lounger.
No time for catch up, ever the professional she adopts character.
Lying on her back with her legs apart, lighting technicians hold monitors next to her pussy, reflectors are placed behind her to mask those tell tale creases and wrinkles that surgery hasn’t managed to stretch out.

Her once taut skin is now sun dried and leathery, the combination of the Californian sun and spray tan making her resemble a Mahogany carving. Silicone mounds pointing impossibly upwards where her beautiful breasts once were, her vagina puckered and hairless, reconstructed and moulded into an accessory rather than a physical part of her body.
She had become an effigy, nothing left of the woman I fell in love with.
In the good old days.

As a camera man gives a thumbs up signal, the director calls me over.
The makeup assistant is applying lube to her labia with a brush to give the final illusion of youth and virility.

By now im hard, but have no idea why.
I might as well be pointing with my finger.

With my infamous member leading the way I walk over to the camera crew, and Lisa, now massaging her clit in an attempt to look interested.

‘Ok Jack,’ says the director, young enough to be my son.
‘You know the score, lets see if you’ve still got it in you’.

No script to memorise now, our target audience have the attention span of a two year old.
No how are you, what you been doing, how you keeping.
We perform on Auto pilot, we’ve both been here before

5 minutes of eating her pussy.
10 minutes of blowjob.
5 minutes missionary.
5 minutes doggy.
5 minutes reverse cowgirl.
5 minutes anal.
5 minutes titjob and cum shot.

We begin to do what we were good at as the camera man hovers over us like a shadow.

So maybe this is it, our chance to prove ourselves to a world that has forgotten us. If they even cared that is, who really is trying to prove what to who?

Gripping Lisa’s crinkled ass cheeks and dipping into her for the thousandth time, I close my eyes and I can imagine that I’m 21 again.
I can imagine it’s the good old days.
Still thrusting away I can feel the salty breeze on my lips as the Pacific crashes timelessly on the shore.
Opening my eyes I catch my image in the reflector in front of us.

A 53 year old man pretending he’s not, lamenting the loss of youth by blaming today’s. Ever eager to prove himself relevant.
I glance at the director, he’s holding a clipboard that reads Tyrannosaurus Sex.

Looking back at my reflection, I can feel my self going limp and I think for the first time in 28 years I truly recognise myself.

On first glance not much has changed in the last 28 years, but its only now that I realise why.