Free The Hardest (Working) Man in Showbiz by Ron Jeremy Page A

uphill battle, especially considering that I was working with a sexual hellcat like Samantha. She wouldn’t just fuck you, she’d rip you to shreds. She had incredible control of her pussy muscles. I didn’t think it was possible for an orifice to have such powerful suction. It was like putting your penis into the circulation pump of a swimming pool, but without the nuisance of spinning blades.
    “Okay, let’s get the pop shot, please,” Jim announced.
    Thank God, I thought. It’s about fucking time.
    The set went eerily quiet as they awaited my orgasm. I pulled out of Samantha, and she jerked me off as I popped into the air. And let me tell you, I came gallons . The sperm came blasting out of me in a torrent, like somebody had replaced my penis with a hose and turned it up full blast.
    Samantha continued to jerk my penis, squeezing out every last drop, then turned to the camera to deliver her final line: “Did you see that juice?” she asked. “Tigresses always get their milk.”
    It was all I could do to keep from laughing. “Tigresses always get their milk?” Who wrote this stuff?
    Jim called for the cameras to cut, and the entire crew burst into applause. I wasn’t sure if they were applauding me or Samantha, but I felt a surge of pride nonetheless.
    “Holy shit, kid,” Samantha said with a wicked grin. “Where’d all that sperm come from?”
    I smiled back at her, and with a completely straight face, I said, “Chicken soup.”
    That’s right, chicken soup. When I was growing up, chicken soup was a medical necessity in our house. My grandmother used to call it “Jewish penicillin.” Whatever is ailing you, chicken soup will take care of it. I ate so much chicken soup during my youth that it was practically coming out of my ears. If chicken soup could cure any number of diseases, well, it was only logical that it could have other benefits, like increased semen production.
    Of course, I didn’t really believe that. I knew it was bullshit. But it was less embarrassing than the truth.
    The real reason that I came so hard was that I held back. When I learned that I had the job, I didn’t have sex for a week. I wanted to make a good first impression, and cumming like Niagara Falls seemed like the best way to do that.
    “Chicken soup?” Jim asked. “Seriously?”
    It was too late to change my story now. “Yeah,” I said. “A bowl of chicken soup two hours before sex. Works every time.”
    Little did I know that I had inadvertently started one of the biggest insider myths in the New York porn world. Word spread quickly around the set, and by the time I returned upstairs to get dressed, two of the actors had already sent out PAs to get chicken soup.
    “Thanks for the tip,” one of them told me.
    Years later, chicken soup would become a common sight on porn sets. I’d show up for a shoot and find cans littering the dressing room. Even Samantha Fox’s boyfriend, porn actor Bobby Astyr, bought into the folklore. Whenever I’d see him, he’d invariably have a few bowls of soup heating nearby.
    “Oh yeah,” he’d explain. “It makes you cum like a volcano. Chicken soup is very good for you.”
    “Well, sure,” I’d say. “But not for sperm !”
    When I left the set, I went straight over to my sister Susie’s apartment; she lived just a few blocks away. I burst inside and screamed, “I did it!”
    “Oh my God,” Susie squealed. “You really went through with it?”
    “I did! It was amazing! I popped and everything!”
    Susie took a step away. “Okay, I probably didn’t need that last bit of information. But thanks for sharing.”
    In just a few weeks, my feature-film debut was out in theaters. It was called Tigresses…and Other Maneaters , and I was one of the first in line to see it. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to being a little disappointed. When they finally got to my scene, it took me a minute to recognize myself. You couldn’t even see my face! I was just a headless torso,