Las Vegas Porno-Girl--Hey, that's me....

After much discussion about my next entry with a friend of mine, I have decided that my "porno girl" impersonation (most embarrassing moment of my life) should be the next entry.

It was a warm breezy night in Las Vegas, and unfortunately, unlike the commercials, not everything done in Vegas stays in Vegas...

I had worked as a waiter in a 50's diner that required the employees to have characters (much like the Friends episode where Monica is waitressing and hooks up with the Billionaire/Millionaire-Whatever). Anyway, a close friend, who I had met at the diner was getting married in Vegas, so we all went for the happy occasion.

Another former co-worker and I had driven out there so that we had transportation while in the city of tacky signs and state-fair-hair; we were ready to party like rockstars. After checking into "The Manor" at Circus Circus (which was like The Shining gone 70's circus-I still have nightmares about that place) we were ready to spank the town and make it our bitch.

That night I was sensibly dressed in a pair of jeans, and a tight navy blue v-neck that showed off my chest (the boys). There were four of us in the beginning, and we trekked over to The Silver Dollar Saloon (or something like that) for its famous $5.00 you-call-it, huge-ass, plastic cocktail containers (you know which ones I am talking about). Our poison(s) that night were a horrible combination--One hand holding a long island, the other holding a midori sour (I know okay, but we needed something to wash down the long island). After 3 rounds of double fisting, we were lit.

We had grabbed a quick bite to eat earlier and molested the statues in front of Circus Circus (who doesn't do this when they're wasted in Vegas-those statues get more action than I do). Amazingly, our party had grown, because the Bride and Groom were doing their own thing, so we were up to 8 (I think, it kinda gets fuzzy at points in this story).

We were back at the $5 buck drink saloon for cocktail freshening, when I look across the tables and see a hotty, with a body, with whom I'd like to be naughty. I, of course, have the intense urge to BJ it (Black Jack...Potty Minds), because there's a seat next to Mr. Right Now.

I sit down, give him a quick, "Hey, how's it going man," and get colored up. So, here I am playing blackjack, cocktails in hand, sitting next to a hotty and winning some cash. After about 30 minutes, my friends couldn't leave well enough alone, because they were hungry again and wanted to go to the Westward Ho for the $.99 foot long hot dogs. They were yelling across the casino for me to come with them...I look at the guy, look at the cash, and yell, "I'll meet you there in a minute." I play a couple more hands...

I guess that my time schedule didn't accomodate them, because before I knew it Patricia and Warner run over (a guy who had shown me his tattoo on his bum. I wanted to lick his teeth; he had a perfect smile). Patricia licks my neck, Warner licks my face, and they cash me out. I am then dragged to the Westward Ho to eat a big weanie.

Once there we all have our hot dogs (mind you, it has to be around 3:30-4:00 am), and of course, the cameras were out and flashing. Who can't resist taking a picture of your friends shoving a huge hot dog in their mouth? One of my friends decides it's time for me to entertain them with a piece of my performance art entitled, Porno Girl.

I respectfully decline stating that I did not have the necessary materials. Another of my friends, who had seen the piece before, became the flash, and before I knew it, he had props in hand to give to me. Once again, I say, "No way Jose," because there were a ton of blue-hairs playing slots around "the cafe".

All of them begged, pled, threatened, and finally cajoled me into performing my art. After their assurances that they would provide a curtain of people-dom around me for the private show, I was ready...

Now let me give you the mood and theme of my art... Imagine the ever-present, bleach blonde porno star, with the fake boobs, the white g-string, landing strip, clear platform shoes, and long acrylic nails (because she doesn't do girl on girl--eeeeeeew gross). You know the one I'm talking about, and I am a gay guy who has seen it countless times.

I begin the impersonation with only the finesse and attention to detail that a 'mo can do. I twisted my nips with my imaginary nails pointing out (using the inside of my fingers), while ooo-ing and aaaah-ing. I pushed the boys together and tried to lick them, just like the gals of the xxx medium. My friends were hootin anda hollerin. I gave them more.

For a guy that was standing up, acting like a woman being given the time of her life, I should have won an award. The tears were forming in my friends' eyes from laughing so hard. I let out the squeals that signaled orgasm, and thrashed my head before saying, "No don't shoot it inside of me! Shoot it all over my face."

Enter props....

Behind me on a table was a creamer in those little plastic containers that I had poked with three tines of a fork through the papery-foil top. I then brought it out and held it about a foot and a half away from my face as I said, "OooooooooooooooOOOOoooh Yeah all over my face. Shoot it baby. OOOOOhhh yeah. Ah-Ah-OOOOOoooOOOoo, uh huh, give it to me." Then, I squeezed the creamer (twice-I find it gives more realism) right into my face.

My friends who were laughing went dead silent, as the shock of the happy ending hit them full force. I continued the scene with the only natural ending portrayed in hetero-action-packed-love stories.

I smeared the half and half all over my face with two fingers, and brought as much of it to my lips and tongue, all the while cooing like a baby, saying, "ooooh yeah, baby. Mmmmmmmmmmmm, uuuuuuhh, uh-huh."

After 20 seconds of silence, my friends erupt into thunderous applause, whistles, and general well wishing. I take a bow and look up... into the faces of every senior citizen in the place that could have possibly seen me (they didn't care too much for it...I might add). To this day, I remember seeing their aghast faces, mouths dropped open, and laboured breathing of those on oxygen...

And that my friends is why you should never trust friends to make a people-wall around you when you're all jacked up on Long Islands and doing a piece of performance art that is potentially embarrassing.

All my love (seriously),

Deutschmarc