Ronald Ruger falls in love

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A simple man visits a complicated place – the Exxotica porn convention. (Warning: NSFW.)

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Ronald Ruger | November 11, 2011

Ronald Ruger at the Exxxotica porn convention

Photo by Clay Nelson

We arrived in a stolen car, but never saw the road. I've got forty bucks and a little Beam. My buddy Clay is paying for the motel so I should be fit for a wild night. I'm living in the year 2011, in New Jersey of all places. I came here to see some women, and to discover the future of porn.

As I stepped out of my automobile, I knew I was in the right time and place. The wall read “Exxxotica,” a modern trade show for pornographic films and it's stars. I saw girls, everywhere, scantily clad ladies of the night sucking on large phallic lollipops. Their eyes said, “Take me” or “Buy something,” maybe both. Either way, this is where the porn stars congregate into one big sweaty hall of commerce, and they are willing to talk to me!
I took the opportunity to make photographs with as many of them as I could tap on the shoulder with my eager fingers. Most were happy to oblige, but some wanted money in return. One of them demanded TEN DOLLARS! Ten dollars would get me a carton of Lucky Strikes and a hand job where I'm from, but it's 2011, and things have surely taken a turn towards my moleskin wallet.
And then I saw her. Large and exotic, a symbol of strength and sexuality, her posterior could smother ten sizable men, all of whom would die smiling until their last gloriously asphyxiated gurgling breath. A true gift of nature, and the future of energy-charged foods. She flipped through her photographic portfolio with me, and I became ensnared in her every dirty word, paralyzed by her ravenous gaze. I wished I could live buried deep within her folds. My heart told me I had found what I came for, but I wasn't gonna let some grade school butterflies have me miss out on the rest of the action. Promising to return to her before my departure, I went off to see what else would become of the pornographic art form in this distant future, but her name, 'Superstar XXX' wouldn't leave my mind.
Unfortunately, this incredible autoerotic contraption wasn't in the budget. I wandered further, taking in more sights.
Three dimensional hardcore. Fascinating.
I secretly wanted to ride that bull penis, but thought better of it and went to gawk at some ladies instead. If my math is correct, these women were just a tad too young for me to date back in my day, but in 2011, they are wild cougars on the other side of the agenda.
After I casually walked on to the set of six “live video computer cameras” (or something or other), which were broadcasting live to thousands of personal computers, I found myself surrounded by aftermarket cars and consumer grade tanks with televisions in them. I felt the sudden urge to talk very loudly and make gestures with my fists.
I take a moment to mellow out, and my mind returns to Superstar XXX. I wonder what her life is like, and dare to ponder how I could fit into it. I consider how crazy I’d sound if I asked her to leave this big slice of heaven behind and come home with me.
Nobody is “PROTECTING STRIPPERS RIGHTS”, and there are even strippers that are being kept in cages! These lawyers must have just given up on what must have seemed like an impossible task.
All of this contemplating is hurting my noggin, so I buck up and try to see some more. There’s still lots of girls to meet! Cue the montage.
This is where the action is at. It’s usually ten dollars for five minutes in this private showroom, but this kind gentleman treated me to an inside look in the booth with their top gal. He says that regulations are tight on strip joints and public nudity these days, but he's got it covered, providing the only “anything goes” private booth at any convention in the country.
I wanted to interview this subject, but his master wouldn't let him talk to me.
And finally, a familiar face!
So I’ve had enough, it was great while it lasted, but I need to get back home and take care of a certain pressing matter, which is starting to show in my pant leg. I excitedly run back to Superstar XXX, and ask if she'd like to join me. After some moments of tender consideration, we come to realize that to part ways is our only reasonable option. I can't blame her, and I want to stay, but how could I ever keep up with all of this? At what lengths does one have to go to fulfill a such a simple task? I'd need to invest thousands of dollars in electronics that I don’t know how to use, and that's before I even get my hands on the little plastic records with the films on them. I'd much rather go buy some magazines from the friendly man at the bus stop. I leave her with my lei necklace, and watch her roll off into the future.
Photos by “Clay Nelson” and “Ronald Ruger”. Taken on November 4th, 2011 at the Exxxotica Expo in Edison, NJ.

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