Guest Blogger: IAFD

First a word about the Internet Adult Film Database – IAFD.COM

We’re the leading online adult movie database. Covering information on over 80,000 straight and gay movies and 70,000 performers. We have links to over 63,000 reviews and a price search engine to help you figure out where to get stuff.

We’ve been steadily adding links to galleries featuring your favorite performers. We’re got links to over 1,000 galleries now; so we made some tweaks.

First off, under the UPDATES menu, there’s a new item for “galleries”
which will give you a list of the newest galleries we added over the prior 14 days.

We also changed the performer’s page a bit; we moved the galleries out of the biography block, and instead put them in a collapsible list under the headshot. We feel this is a better use of space than before.

For those of you surfing without scripts enabled, you can always use the performer’s gallery page (i.e. Andie Valentino’s gallery page.)

Thanks for all your support. (If you like the galleries, maybe you’ll sign up for one of the sites?)

…and now on to my Rog story.

They say “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.” That pretty much sums up my philosophy towards Rog.

It wasn’t always this way. We used to be friends. Compadres. Really tight. Not shake-each-others-dicks-after-we-peed tight, but tight.

It was 1985. The world was laughing, telling each other “You look mahvelous!” and complaining how they “hate when that happens! (I know what you mean…)”

Rog and I were the cocks of the walk. We were the stars of West Beverly High. West Beverly, Oregon. It’d be another few years before Rog packed up the truck and moved to Beverly (Hills, that is).

But there we were, Rog was a senior and I was a junior, and we were the kings of the debate team. No, not the debate team… sure, we’re nerds, but come on! We were the kings of cross country racing.

Every morning at 6 AM, Rog would job over to my house (I lived two doors down — where people were laughing and drinking and having a party; little did I know Rog would later be having his own party.. two doors down.) and we’d jog a 5K. (Back then we called it “three miles”, but you kids with your metric system know it best as a 5K.)

The day dawned bright and clear. Just like every other day in Oregon, where the cars that run on hemp don’t pollute; they just give you the slightest of contact highs as they pass you on the street. We were running down one of our favorite paths – the one that ran behind the girls school – when we came across a scene of sapphic poetry. Two of the hottest girls in town, Kaitlyn and Neve, were doing some heavy petting in the field along since our trail. Rog and I stopped for just a moment. We were afraid the girls might see us. They didn’t. They kissed for a little while and then left. It was hard to run after that, but we tucked our erections into our waistbands and journeyed on.

Since Rog is on vacation, I know he’ll never read this… which is lucky for you dear reader, because it’s time for me to dish some dirt.

Flash forward 10 years. I’m living in New York City, having been adopted by a rich black gentleman (Neil Bennington) with a sassy housekeeper (Mrs. Jenkins) and my manservent, Smiley. I’ve been lucky with the ladies and was shacking up with a then ink-free Joanna Angel.

I was out when Rog showed up, so Joanna answered the door. Rog introduced himself and told JA that he’d give her $50 if he could see one of her tits. She obliged; he offered another $50 for the other one; and JA pocketed the $100. When Rog found out I wasn’t home, he left.

I got back and Joanna told me Rog stopped by. I was very excited — “did he drop off the $100 he owed me?” She seemed unhappy. She left. She came back a few hours later with a tattoo of an Indian on her left thigh and a tattoo of Santa on her right thigh. I asked her what that was all about, and she said she had it done so I’d stop complaining that there was nothing good to eat between Thanksgiving and Christmas. (Thank you, I’ll be here all week. Take care of your servers, since they take care of you.)

Rog came back and this time I was home. We hung out, shot the shit, caught up on old times and he asked me if I remembered those two girls from high school; I said sure — one of them went on to be on some TV show or something and the other went into porno.

I said I thought I saw Kaitlyn on that Fox show “Down the Shore” but wasn’t sure. Rog said he never the saw the show, but heard she was great in it.

Rog decided to stick around New York and one day we decided to do some flea marketing.

We were looking at little knickknacks at a garage sale when Rog stumbled upon the neatest little pot looking thing. It was brass and tarnished, but he thought it might look good in Mr. Bennington’s apartment. He said it seemed rare.
It was fine, so I agreed; and we paid five bucks for it and went on our way.

Later that night, Rog decides he wants to dust off this old thing, so he got an old rag and started to clean the lamp. He polished until


A huge creature appears in their living room! We screamed like a couple of cheerleaders.

“Do not be frightened!” The creature says. “I am the genie of the lamp. You have freed me from over one thousand years of imprisonment by an evil sorceress. I will grant the two of you a total of three wishes as thanks!”

This came as quite a shock, but we handled it gracefully. I fainted and Rog pissed his pants.

Afterwards, Rog asked the genie, “Do we have to give all three wishes now?”

“No,” the genie replies. “You have three days in which to ask for your wishes.” and with that, the genie vanished.

So we went to bed — me dreaming of Neve and Kaitlyn an Rog dreaming of a wish. The next day, we decided that we’d each get one wish, and we’d pick the third one together. First, we wanted to be rich; so that was our joint wish. When we woke up the next day, it turns out I had won the Powerball with $100 million amd Rog discovered that he was a distant cousin of the Sultan of Brunei. The Sultan had just died, and left Jim $500 million.

Wa-fucking-hoo! I told Mr. Bennington that Rog and I would be leaving, and I didn’t know if we were coming back. I asked for Smiley to be released from his servitude. I repaid his gambling debts to Bennington and he was released. He came with Rog and I as we searched for a place to call our own.

We found one, and later on that same day for my wish, I asked for beauty.
When we awoke the next morning (in our fabulous new co-op; in the same building as Regis Philbin and Howard Stern!!) we were both stunning. Rog was a full 6 inches taller, looked twenty-five again, but was more beautiful than he had ever been at that or any age. I lost all my blemishes AND 50 pounds. I looked like a cross between my old self and a model.

Finally, it was Rog’s turn. Around midnight on the third day, I asked Rog what he was going to wish. But Rog had ALWAYS been finicky. He didn’t like it when girls would make quacking noises when sucking his cock. Quacking noises! Who couldn’t like that?!?!?

“Hurry and think of something before its too late!” I yelled. Rog decided he needed time to think, so he went off to the veranda to ponder this important decision.

Just at that moment, I heard a loud banging at the door. ‘Who is it?’ I say. (We game Smiley the night off.) In a southern accent, the voice from the other side says “Open up boy! We gone kill you!!” I looked through the peephole and saw men in white hoods on hobby horses, burning crosses at the ready. Co-op board approval, indeed!

“Rig! Rog! Come quick! The KKK is outside our door!”

Rog runs over.

“What in the world are THEY doing in the Upper East Side!?! I thought this place was liberal! ”

The banging on the door gets louder; and the KKK starts running into the door and streessing out the hinges.

“Rog! Wish they would go away! USE YOUR LAST WITH TO MAKE THEM GO AWAY!!”

‘I can’t’ he replies, as he slumps to the floor, and the Klansmen begin knocking down the door.

‘WHY NOT!!!!??!!?’

Rog paused and replied, “Because I ALREADY wished that we could be hung like black men.”

I called the building super and the homeowners association and they were able to get rid of Klansmen for us, but I threw Rog out into the street.
I never wanted to see him again.

A few years later, I get an e-mail from Rog. He’s bored with his wealth and he wants to cash in on this new internet fad. So, he starts writing porn movie reviews and I post the articles for him. He’s made quite a name for himself now… but I still wait… wait for the time when he’ll do something else to get me in trouble… like making me blog at 1:30 in the morning. See what you get? Blame Rog.

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