How Do Porn Stars Die?

What a porn star’s death reveals about how we grapple with our memories

Bakliterati 🌈
Human Parts
Published in
6 min readSep 14, 2023

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Image by Koolshooters from Pexels

He was in dad porn. It was a common fetish among my gay friends who grew up with their dads sweating it out in Arab lands. He was hairy, borderline-bear. Sometimes I found him in the DILF category, sometimes he showed up in Bear selections. It always confused me.

I think it was when I was 19 when I first stumbled on his earlier productions. He hailed from Bulgaria, as was the case with all the other caramel-skinned, fine male specimens of American Pornlandia. There was a brute air about him, palpably primal. It almost seemed like he really wanted it. He wanted the banging and moaning and the wet, slippery mess of it all. He wasn’t performing, he was simply fucking. And I liked it.

When I was 12, I used to watch straight porn. Partially because I never had gay friends then who would randomly message me on Facebook sharing the latest gay porn site they stumbled upon online. Partially because I tried fixing myself, wanking the gay away over the sight of pixelated naked girls. Just like the other day, when my friend and I gushed upon a fast-loading, low-data consumption porn site which we can conveniently stream videos even with an embarrassing 3G connection. I often visit it in between office breaks.

In straight porn, the guys are obviously into it. Their faces are convoluted with want, grimacing in visceral pleasure. I’m not sure anymore if I even noticed how the girls looked like, except for how the beige of their skin would spill all over the screen, hiding the primal image of a man at the peak of worldly euphoria. I hate female porn stars. They get too much airtime.

The first video I saw of him was downloaded through a handy modem I bought from saving up on my monthly college allowance. The modem had a decent connection at daytime, but after midnight it spikes a bit, good enough to get me hooked on downloading Sean Cody clips every other day. It was seminal — I mean that exact moment when I saw him on the thumbnail — with his scruff, the roughness about him, the unmistakable effervescent air of wanton sex rising from his Bulgarian skin. I had to click play: and in the subsequent occasions, the download button, so I get to pleasure myself on demand, with the images…

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Bakliterati 🌈
Human Parts

I write stories about how growing up gay colors our experience of the world. I run Bakliterati, a blog where we share LGBTQIA stories that help heal & empower.