Frost … for the rest of us

My real name is unimportant. The moniker you probably know me by is Bobby Frost. I am in the adult film industry and the story behind how I became a household name is an interesting one.

You may to choose to believe it or not, no skin off my ass.

I got into the business for the reason most people get into the business; I was down on my luck and I had an enormous hog. It was either porn or becoming a janitor. As I didn’t want to clean up after other people’s messes, I chose to make my own.

In a manner of speaking.

Like thousands of other guys in the porn world I was just trying to get that big break. Early on it seemed every Tom, Dick and Harry was lugging around bigger equipment and bigger attitudes than I was and getting noticed was difficult in a sea of giant dicks. Both in the figurative and literal sense.

Along the way I began dating this girl who was also in the industry. Her stage name was Sire Wood. Her real name, like mine, was unimportant. In fact, I didn’t want to know.

She was a sweet girl and after awhile our relationship became exclusive … off-screen of course. On the set I watched dozens of men plow her.

What initially attracted me to her was that she had a quirky habit I found interesting; she loved tearing perforated things. It was no mere nervous habit. She would buy clothing just to be able to tear off the tag. She was a menace in department stores. If people were perforated I have no doubt she would be in prison for murder.

In a world dominated by implants, I found it endearing.

Getting close to her was difficult though, as it is with anyone in the industry.

On our second date, she told me that she equated men’s expectations of dating a porn actress like buying fingernail clippers. “You can’t see the little nail file under the top of clippers because of the way it’s packaged but you assume it’s there.”

I waited for her to continue.

“Men assume that with us it’s more like a Swiss army knife.”

As I look like a more muscular version of Tom Cruise, I know a little something about what she was talking about.

Deflecting the obvious implications I noted that I’d always said a “pair of clippers,” even though you only ever buy one. I reached my hand out across the table and placed it over hers.

We got along fine after that.

That first night I watched her sleeping and whispered things I’d always wanted somebody, anyone, to know. I fell asleep that night wondering if she could be anyone.

Getting back to the part about watching men plow her … it grew more difficult, but who was I to say anything? She never complained about the women I was with so I just kept quiet on the topic.

Perhaps it was because we both shared the same restriction about what we were willing to do on film. Long before we’d met each other we’d both come to the same conclusion that we wouldn’t engage in anal sex. As warped as it was, we wanted to save something for the person we loved.

Don’t judge me, or her, until you’ve slept a mile in our shoes.

Then one day, as fate would have it, we were scheduled to work together on a low-budget production called The Extraordinarily Big Bang about two nerds who live next door to a hot girl. I mention the word fate because it seemed at the time that there were larger forces at work. Being a big fan of autobiographies I’d read time and again how fate moved to bring the right people into the right situation. I was just sick of looking into the mirror every day and seeing the wrong stuff making all the wrong moves. For once I was going to follow my heart instead of my head.

In the scene, Sire had come over to borrow some sugar and caught me fine-tuning my newest invention- a penis enlarger that utilized state-of-the-art technology. I think you can guess the rest. I had her on all fours across a dilapidated couch and I was delivering a truly fine performance when I made a decision I felt she’d understand.

Perhaps the biggest leap I’d ever taken.

I withdrew myself from the usual haunt and slowly began to enter the forbidden zone.

After a slight hesitation I felt her body respond how I’d hoped it would. It was clear that she loved me back.

Critics later called the scene “ferociously romantic” and it ended with a blizzard of baby-batter the likes of which had not been witnessed since the Ron Jeremy whiteout of ’87.

Needless to say- but I’ll say it anyway to quiet the naysayers- our movie won every major AVN award that year and went on to become the top selling adult film.

Sire and I are now two of the most well-known and highly compensated actors in our field.

Two roads diverged into Miss Wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by.

And that has made all the difference.