HIV Found In 22 Adult Film “Actors” Since 2004

Actors….Oh, I don’t think these people are acting.  They are very much screwing away.  This ain’t Showtime after dark.  Or HBO’s late night adult boner jams.  Or the original peddler of soft core almost porn, Cinemax (AKA…oh, you know it).  This is the real deal.  Penis in vagina.  Not the hip thrusting into lady’s thighs where the viewer is to assume that actual penetration is going on.  How laughable are those scenes?  Some man gyrating fourteen inches away and two inches off target, while the ’actress’ throws her head about in ’grand mal’ fashion.  Hell, I assume she’s acting, otherwise they found the perfect actors for this.  The leg-humper and having-their-leg-humped fetish type.  “YEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!   AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”  Meanwhile horny pre-teens and inexperienced teens across the nation are getting some fucked up misinformation.  Just imagine the mishaps caused from this type of porn.  Little Timmy finally getting his big break, and jamming his little member a few inches above Cindy’s knee cap….  Oh, poor Timmy.  Hell, poor Cindy.

Back on topic.  As reported by the New York Times today, twenty-two porn stars, have come down with the dreaded HIV.  Can you imagine their shock?  “How could this happen???”

Anyways, what jumped out of this article for me, was an example of this woman who tested positive for the disease, yet still performed in two more films, sans protection.  What is interesting, and maybe not at all surprising, is that the two men that she made romantic love too, did not catch the virus.

And here is now my question.  This may sound like a fake question, but how do you get HIV?  I don’t understand.  I remember VERY CLEARLY back in grade school, junior high, and high school, that if our penis were to ever see a vagina without a condom on it, then HIV was going to be sucked up like juice through a straw, and months later, we would turn white, lose 80 pounds, then waste away in some fucked up E.T. tent.  Believe me, I was terrified of that disease.

Which is actually kind of funny looking back on now…

I remember the first time I had unprotected sex…

I was 20 years old and with my first adult girlfriend.  At the time I was in my second year at UCSB, living with friends from high school in our ski lodge-esque duplex yards from the crashing surf.  (Well, it crashed upon occassion).  And what a night that would be.  Sitting in bed, giggling like little kids as “woooooooooooo booooooooommmm” as winter waves would thud across the bluffs below.  Us, starting to surge with adrenaline for the morning surf.

My girlfriend at the time was a few years older than me.  She was in her final year at a college further down south and we spent our ten month romance darting up and down the 101 for our physical trysts.  I do recall one such encounter on the steps of her sorority house.  WTF???  Young love….or lust.

Anyways, the sans protection came one evening early on in our relationship.  My three roommates, EB, JG, and AB were out, or out of town for the evening.  They actually were probably just at a friend’s or girlfriend’s to give me my privacy.  They were nearly as excited as I was for me to be boning down on a sexy and attractive lady.  We were a team.  Mi weiner es su weiner. Or so it goes.

The fire was roaring.  Or should I say the Dura-log was melting in the fireplace.  The six time hand-me-down sofa bed that somehow had escpaed a public torching on Del Playa was folded out.  Blankets were strategically laid upon it.  An extra one laid dead center, to pad the bar from digging into our backs.  An informercial was providing us 80’s tunes on CD.  Pay such and such a price and go back…what four years?…and re-live the 80’s.

I had had sex only once before.  I was a late bloomer.  Fortunately I got it in, so to speak in my teen years, but barely.  That was a one night drunken debauchery.  This time was with a girlfriend.  A bit more experienced.  Much more of a connection.  Much more in control.

We set down our wine glasses.

The tv sings…

“Take on me…. Take.. Me.. On…”

Fire dances in my lady’s eyes.

No condoms to be found.  She has the pill form of protection.


Her legs are long and flowing.  I do my best not to resemble Matthew Broderick in Biloxi Blues.

It’s effortless.  It’s over in no time.

“Ooooweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”  (The lyric, not my finish).

Incredible.  It was incredible.  On my back smiling like Arnold in Twins after he completes the similar deed.

Oh…but the next day.

Visions of Elliott next to me wasting away as well.  The men in the NASA looking suits.

I kiss the stranger that is my girlfriend goodbye and I grab EB and say we need to go for a surf.

Dead man walking.

Appropriate and its how I am feeling.  I just did it.  I had unprotected sex.

Now my girlfriend had only been with like three people, tops.  However I was and am good at math, and by using the Sex-Ed AIDS math, her 3 partners, computed into something like three thousand, two hundred and forty-three dicks, eight hundred well beaten vaginas, and a conservative…I’d say, three or four heroin needles.

I was a dead man.  EB and I walked quietly to Devereaux Point.  I silently paddled my 6′3″ Merrick out into the tiny surf.  I just lay there.  Riding waves was the furthest thing from my mind.  EB said a few words of encouragement.  “Dude, you’re fine.”

I just lay there bobbing.

Well, long story short, is that I ended up asking my girlfriend to get tested.  Oh yeah.  Nothing spells romance, or disollution of a relationship quite like asking that after a loving, romantic encounter.  She actually nearly broke up with me over that.  Not for asking, but in how I asked.  I basically gave off the vibe that I was treating her like a diseased pigeon.  Believe it or not women don’t entirely appreciate that.

Well, of course I didn’t have HIV, nor did she.  Nor did we last all that much longer.  And of course I have come a long way with fears over this dreaded disease.  To be honest, at this point I could use at least a bit of fear, since I pretty much now have none.  I erroneously figure that if the women I get careless with are as sweet and pretty, and as aromatic as a strawberry Scratch and Sniff, that there is nothing really to worry about other than pregnancy.  I know its not the best modus operandi, but its gotten me thus far….and most of you.  I’d enterain that we probably feel pretty similar on the issue.

But back to the article.  So this ‘actress’ get the disease, has porn sex with two male actors, and they don’t test positive.  Ok.  This isn’t shocking to me, but again it really begs the question, ‘how the fuck do you get this disease?”  I would imagine that having sex with a girl with AIDS without a condom was probably a sure fire way to catch it.  If you can’t get it that way, then what the hell???  Were we being given a load of shit, back in the day?  Is it actually really hard for a guy to catch it through heterosexual sex?  I don’t know.  Needles and rear-entry sure seem like high probability behaviors.  And poor women…being the recipient, well it makes sense that they would be at real risk for regular vaginal sex.  But what about us male hypochondriacs?  What about us, huh?  Us, who can make plants wilt or bloom with our glowing finger.  Whose heart you can see beating and glowing through our opaque chest cavity.  Us who were facing imminent death when his little soldiers were released unabated in the promise land.  In a land full of luscious trees, the greenest of grass, the babbling of an unspoiled brook.  INNNHAAALLLEEE  you smell the sweet strawberry, don’t you?

So I don’t know the truth.  I know enough now to not be paranoid.  I don’t see myself running out and signing up for porn however, but if I were to lay down in another luscious garden sans a latex barrier of numbness, then I’m sure I wont need a best friend or a one foot set of waves to help me out of a self-induced mental crisis.

I’ve at least come that far.


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