Ron Jeremy: "I see it as another decline of Western Civilization"
Bukkake is a concept where the word sounds funnier than the actual deed itself. Taking the definition of group participation to its outermost limits, bukkake is simply the act of guys being guys by milling about a naked woman only to shoot loads of guy-goo on her. While a good shot of cum on the kisser is always a certified crowd pleaser, the question circulating the Club Copabana Boy compound Friday morning was whether Houston was going to play to the masses by doing the Buried Alive Bukkake during the Mexican vacation.
Metro had been hyping the Houston event for several months but stood to get some serious sand kicked in its face. Reasons being, there were all sorts of rumors at play - that Houston had snuck out of the resort in the middle of the night, adamant against doing it; that Houston had been seriously injured in a disco incident the night before that took off her right toenail; that Houston had gotten a series of gruesome skin peels that precluded her being in the sun; that Houston was coked out and in no shape to perform; that Houston was having crying jags and was too emotional to carry on in any bukkake capacity.
The touch and go aspects of the situation played havoc with the afternoon scheduling. The event, tentatively set for noon, kept getting pushed back an hour, pending updates from Houston's bedroom. Bridgett Kerkove, the second woman in the bukkake equation, was ready to go, but the prevalent fear was that, without the advertised headliner, there might be a small revolt among swarms of naked vacationers who came to see Houston take facefuls of spooze from other naked vacationers.
By 3pm Mike McCormick whispers, 'This ought to tell you where it's going. The whole crew is in the pool getting loaded." But, no sooner had McCormick made the statement, word came down that, Houston, we have bukkake.
Yet, by the time Houston ushered in her appearance and the entire resort emptied onto the beach out of morbid curiosity, it was 4:50 pm. The original plan called for Houston, wearing a wetsuit, to make a grand entrance on a jet ski out of the ocean. Houston did have the wetsuit on, but the jet ski idea was scuttled, possibly because of the Love Lee incident earlier in the week. Given her reputation for partying, one might have also expected Houston to show up with a Lucky Strike dangling out of her mouth and a dry martini in her hand. Such was not the case, however.
Once again playing the role of m.c., Ron Jeremy described for the cameras the rules of bukkake engagement. In this instance, both Houston and Kerkove, donning goggles, were to be buried up to their tits in sand, only after fluffers Barret Moore and Kristina St. James worked the male participants into a near-cum froth. Mila was to have been the third fluffer but bowed out, according to McCormick, because her "moral integrity had been compromised". Mila, instead, elected to join the guys and take a crack at shooting her own version of spermatozoa. Although Jeremy warned against cumming with the fluffer, one vacationer, a green shirt wearing guy named Fast Eddie, was poetically red-shirted from the event for dumping a load onto Moore who seemed none too pleased by the surprise.
Besides Eddie's clear cut example of hasty pasty, one hypothetical situation did present itself. Thinking back real quick to the instance earlier in the week when Moore got swamped quite unexpectedly by an errant ocean wave, it wasn't unreasonable to suspect that a similar situation could occur this time around, too. Should some genius have bothered to check with the tidal charts, you ask?
The question of unexpected drownings, however, being on the subtle backburner, the event proceeded. During her pre-bukkake interview, Houston said she didn't know what to expect. Jeremy told her to expect washing sand out of her drawers for the next week. Herschel Savage, on the other hand, announced to several people that he had to pee.
Onlooker Alexander Silk said she thought a bukkake wasn't official unless there were a hundred guys in the mix. "To tell you the truth, bukkakes are my fantasy," sighed Silk who tends to battle for her breathless words like a patient duking it out in an oxygen tent. Silk, who plays a bailiff in the Playboy Channels' currently running, Sex Court, predicted that her last movie in the business would be a bukkake.
Playing with his dick, Tyce Bune urges me to leave a little of my DNA on the Mexican beach. "Spread your wealth around the world," he said. I don't inform Tyce that I'm having trouble just getting my wealth out of the garage. Bune and Savage are joined by Tod Alexander, Brian Surewood and Smally Paulie as the other recognizable male entities in this beachy conclave. The rest are industry onlookers and fans who have brought officially sanctioned tests for the occasion.
"This is kind of trippy," Houston says to Metro's Michael Adams as Herschel Savage comes swinging out of the box as the first guy to whack off. Bune lands one and offers silent challenge to Savage by daring him to go again. After several minutes breather, the Hersche lands a second shot, matched again by Bune who gathers inspiration at the hands of fluffer St. James. The parade of peckers continues. Brian Surewood lands two as does Tod Alexander. Unfortunately a halt is called to the bombing when it's discovered that Houston's close to heat exhaustion. She's scooped out of the sand only to discover that her eyes, too, have borne the brunt of Mila's seepage which somehow got passed the goggles and have inflamed her corneas.
In light of such physical calamity, one can only empathize, but not too greatly, with Smally Paulie who struggles vainly with his microscopic manhood as the late afternoon sun casts its lengthy shadows. A repeat of the Barret Moore blowjob fiasco from a day earlier, seems certainly in the offing. Maybe Paulie should have been fantasizing Brick Majors' ass after all.
