Yesterday was awesome, but last night I finally got to go to some parties. First was the Village Voice/Babeland party in a suite at the Venetian, and then a house party out in the desert somewhere, that promised to be a "stripper sideshow sex party." There was definitely a sideshow (more about that, and the dude on the left in a bit), but there were no strippers, and from what I could tell, no sex. Well, except for me fluffing this kid in the bathroom so that I could measure his peen with The Final Say. But we sorta got carried away and forgot all about that thing. My goal for the evening was to bang a porn star, and unfortch, that didn't happen. But this dude has an AVN Award nomination for Best Song in a Film (or whatever the formal title is), so I guess that's kinda close enough, for now. He ended up coming back to my hotel room with me, and lots of stuff went down...or up...or in and out. Whatever — let's start at the beginning...
So the Village Voice/Babeland party was thrown in honor of the SaSi, that "smart" vibrator that remembers what you like and what you don't and is being trumpeted as the second cumming. And after receiving a demonstration of the vibe — on my hand, not my vagina — I kind of agree. I don't want to say for sure until I actually give this thing a test drive, but think it might possibly rival my beloved Hitachi Magic Wand. It's really quiet, has a strong, adjustable clit stimulator, vibration options, and is super light-weight. It's costs a whopping $175, but I'm pretty sure I spent more than that on Doritos in the last year, and I think the SaSi would make a much better investment.
The party was really fun. It had pomegranate cocktails that, of course, I ended up wearing more than I did drinking — I can never hold a damn martini glass properly — but oddly, the stains managed to dry clear. Go figure. I was very happy to see Tommy Pistol. I know him from his Burning Angel days in Brooklyn, but he works for a porno company out in L.A. now.
You see those crutches? Apparently he injured himself skydiving.
Okay, so how fucking cute are the sexual chocolates they were serving? They have vibrators and anal beads on them!
I got to meet Dan Savage (my picture of him didn't come out, argh) and Tristan Taormino, Voice columnist and Vivid Alt director, who is seriously one of the smartest, coolest girls I've ever met. On Monday I'll be posting the interview I did with her about anti-porn sentiment that's been annoying my ass lately.
I think my favorite part about being there was when I was talking to an industry dude with tons of facial piercings, and he was proudly showing me pictures of his kids on his iPhone and all the while, hardcore porno (from Tristan's Chemistry 3) was on the screen directly behind him. The dude in the scene was actually at the party, and he was staring at the TV, watching himself and chuckling.
Then we went to the "Stripper Sideshow Sex" house party. The hosts chartered a party bus to take us there. That's Gawker videographer Richard Blakeley, me, and Fleshbot editor Dash Bennett.
People were really super wasted. I think it had something to do with a liquor distiller that this guy Jack invented. It takes cheap booze and makes it better, or stronger or something. That's him in the kangaroo costume.
So, like I said, although there was a stripper pole in the room, no one really stripped. At least not to my knowledge. I dunno if hostess Joanna Angel was supposed to strip, but it was cold out and she kept her coat on the whole time. That's her with Dash and Gawker videographer Nick McGlynn.
There was definitely some "sideshow" stuff. I couldn't watch any of it because it was freaking me the fuck out and I didn't want to puke. The clown dude took a shot of whiskey through a syringe into his nose. The other dude was poking shit through his body, and then Burning Angel director Dough Sakmann hung himself from some hooks pierced through his skin.
They had Doritos there. Score!
But better still, they had this dude — the one I blew for a little bit in the bathroom — who was very easy to convince to come back to my hotel with me.
The cab we took back there was pretty awesome.
And walking into the hotel, we saw real live pimps! I'm not just assuming because of the outfits — I asked them, and they confirmed. The Player's Ball is tonight, so I guess they're in town for that.
Back in the hotel, I decided I could use another drink (I really didn't need it at all), and the dude I brought back with me said he wanted french fries, so we went to the Grand Lux Cafe (which is like the same thing as Cheesecake Factory) in the casino of the Venetian. We didn't even touch what we ordered. We just drunkenly made out hardcore in the booth, and then I put my hand under the napkin on his lap and started jerking him off. Nobody blinked an eye. People weren't even looking at us. When I remembered for a minute that I was in public and came up for air, I looked around and saw that people were too immersed in their own 3 AM dramas played out over extra large servings of fried food. One lady was crying next to a tight-jawed man, who was looking anywhere but at her face. The middle-aged gay couple next to us were arguing over whether to share or get their own meals. And the waiters were just happy that we weren't bothering them with requests.
The dude put his dick back in his pants, we got the check and went back up to my room. (I'm sharing it with Jonno and Dash from Fleshbot.) We have an awesome suite; there are two beds and a sofa bed. Since I was the last one home, I got the sofa bed in the living room area, but that was fine for my purposes. Me and the dude went into the bathroom (I don't have a picture of it, but it's pretty grand) and just went at it. He lifted me onto the marble counter top. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, koala-bear style, and he fucked the shit out of me. He ruled and his dick was nice. I told him that he should maybe consider working in front of the camera instead of behind it.
We stayed in there for a little bit more and he finger banged me. I ended up squirting all over the damn place — which hasn't happened to me in what seems like ages. It was shooting out sideways and shit, getting on both of our legs. I'm always a little afraid for that to happen in front of dudes, 'cause it's such a fucking mess sometimes, but he seemed to be really into it.
Then we went to the sofa bed and I had every intention of falling asleep and not fooling around (the boys were just like 10 or 20 feet away), but he kept kissing me, and he was really too cute to turn down. I ended up blowing him again, and then he came on my tits. What the hay! We're in Vegas!
We passed out, but I think I was only sleeping for like an hour before I felt his boner pressing up on my ass again. I pushed back, and before I knew it, we were spoon-fucking. Seriously, this guy is more of a machine than I am. I woke up in the morning with this:
I was kinda pissed about it. I'm not thirteen, you know. But Jonno put it into perspective for me when he said, "Consider yourself lucky that you fucked someone at the porn convention and all you got was a hickey."
In the morning, me and the dude went down to the convention floor and I was so motherfucking psyched when I saw Dennis Hoff who owns the Moonlight Bunny Ranch, and his girlfriend Brooke, from the HBO reality show Cathouse. They were there looking at a dildo attached to a pogo stick. I asked them to pose for a picture for me and they asked me if I liked girls. I was like, "Eh, I mean, I went to college, so I got that out of my system." Brooke said that she went to college, too, but she only got into girls kinda recently. Dennis told me that she's into brunettes.
Check out Dennis' shirt:
So tonight, Fleshbot is throwing a party with Vivid Alt at Beauty Bar, so we'll be headed to that. I think it involves another party bus. Honestly, I don't know if I'll be able to go back to traveling in regular cars after cruising the town in those. I'm really fucking hoping I get a chance to sleep with a male porn star while I'm here, but I was told by someone that they aren't really into "civilians", aka non-sex workers. Whatevs. A girl can dream!
And speaking of dreams, or rather, nightmares, I'm sitting in the press room at the convention typing this post and looked over and saw this:
Rita Rudner: stop terrorizing me!
[Most images via Random Night Out]