This past week, I accepted an invitation to hang out on the set of an erotic video shoot, in order to do research for a story. There would be no actual sex, I was told, but I’d be in for a treat.
The video was shot, acted, and produced -- albeit as a home movie, in low-budget fashion -- by four of Miami’s most kickass Amazon Women. The girls, some of whom stood seven feet in heels and weighed in at 380 pounds, cater to a man’s desire to feel small. They hold private fetish sessions and come together to make movies for the Internet.
Most of the time, their clients want a few main things: to be thrown around, sat on, trampled, and carried like a baby.
At one point, I was scribbling away in my notebook, with my mouth hanging open, as the 380-pound Amazon Amanda sat on a computery guy in his twenties. Her giant booty completely engulfed the tiny fellow and, judging by the moaning and groaning, he quite liked it.
I was making the note “Mommy issues?” on my pad, when a wise-guy, who liked to be stepped on, suggested I try it out. Then he announced, “It’s the reporter’s turn.”
I figured I should know what all the fuss is about, so I laid down on the couch. At first, Amanda held herself up with only half her weight on me. “You gonna be okay?” she asked. I gave her a thumbs up from beneath the buns. I couldn’t breath very well, seeing as my lungs were crushed, but I suspect asphyxiation is part of the turn on. It was excited in the way that being at the bottom of a doggie pile was as a kid. But not really erotic. For me, anyway.
Afterwards, as one of the guys was leaving, I asked him what he thought about the shoot. He looked at me with a serious expression and said, “Better than sex.”
