Bobbi Starr, the Ultimate Porn Star

I certainly won’t take part in any Porn Idol jury. I let others carry that frustrating quest and suffer the debilitating horde of deadpan teens, junk starlets, and all those who think it only takes fucking in front of a camera and making faces to have our pricks rise up to the sky. I replaced them all with the jewels of the homemade anonymous, tags so sharp they burst those murky tubes open. I even scrapped the too rare Stoya! Freewheeling Kristina Rose? Forgotten! The mobile number of Alexis Texas, gone having a blast in the soft porn business? Erased! I still do sometimes burn a few bills on paying sites, I order private sex-tapes for the adrenaline, but I now have only one thing on my mind, one only love: Bobbi Starr.

Poke!

In search of the perfect tag, thousandth episode

Hardcore specialists don’t affect me much; I discovered Sasha once she had already smoothed down, I gently started appreciating some MMF when Stoya took my hand and said “Oh please! It’s my fantasy”, and more broadly, ass-to-mouth, gaping, mouth-fuck and other primitive gonzo joys leave me skeptical. Sex is about sharing, and I do not get off on girls crying their mascara out under the battering of an army of douche bags pumped up on steroids.

Le Tag Parfait is about to blow its third candle, and beyond porn, we are interested in the alchemy of arousal, in understanding why one video works better than another. One important element started showing through this daily questioning: it’s not the tag that makes the difference, but the way it is wrapped up. So many boring blowjobs for too few sparkles of light, so many rumbling buggeries for a single worthy shot! Sometimes perfection hides behind lousy productions, and a few seconds of illumination can be found in an ocean of pornographic conformism. The search of the perfect tag is an assault course; it is by nature beyond reach and utopian, but I nevertheless found one that in reality doesn’t exist – another mischievous plan fostered by that damn quantum porn.

Is there a fabulous acronym for all the girls and scenes with this fire, this swing in the eye? Unfortunately there is not. So, to make it simple, I chose to keep only one key word: Bobbi Starr.

Game allegory: open Pandora’s box

“When my body on yours, heavy like a dead horse…”

Showing up in the game rather late, at 23, Bobbi instantly got used to performance and submission, which made her drift below some personal radars, but not away from the industry’s attention, who very quickly made a star of her (although she had to wait six years to receive her first AVN award as a performer, a moving moment that made Kristina Rose cry out with joy). Her tags of choice: anal in all its forms, from gaping to DPA, everything that can possibly get in and out of there one day visited her golden ass. She indulges in scenes typical from the porn of the 2000’s, the wealth of the Red Light District studios, or Jules Jordan, as well as in rough gang bangs, “squirt on my gap” tricks, SM, bondage, domination and other more technical things only Evil Angel holds the secret of. There are also a few moments of tenderness in some lesbian porn she did for Girlfriends Films; a little warmth in this cold world.

Spare the rod sublimely and spoil the girl divinely

So we’re swimming in downright hardcore porn, the gonzo the press is pointing at, the porn some reckon as degrading, humiliating or disrespectful; except we are on a sublime level, because Bobbi is the one calling the shots. She has the makings of heroines like Sasha, Kristina, or Belladonna; she’s from the blessed generation banging their ass so hard on the table it squirts into your eye. They are feminists, they are in control; however tight they get screwed, even with the combined power of several generations of All Blacks, they stay put, and the doll is not them but us, poor walking dildos, with our dicks on Viagra, fuck-machines with impotent brains.

To fuck with Bobbi is to wage war: backfire all over the place – put your helmet on your prick, trust me, this is worse than Gettysburg. It’s like fighting a battle you know you’re going to loose. Her body is cut out for combat, NASA is studying her tush, and her limits are unknown. But where others would have taken a tumble into the excitatory void of pure performance – for the pleasure of a couple of clods that only consider porn as an outlet for their sexual frustration – She sits enthroned above it all, with her small natural breasts, her girl-next-door face, and her coming 30s. An age and a career that clearly makes you want to call her up to go and grab a coffee.

Eskimo kisses and fist fucking

Even if she is well known in the business, Bobbi also strikes on the fringe of porn. Working with all the studios without ever being a muse, shooting all the scenes that matter but rarely doing the headlines, it would be easy to call her the Raymond Poulidor of porn (after the French bicycle racer that always ended second), but this would mean forgetting she is the number one in our heart. Now more often behind the camera for Evil Angel than before it, she can also be found on Kink or on her website bobbistarr.com, voted best website of the year at the last AVN, where she excels in a rich and innovative porn (notably with a feminine POV).

Back to tension

At first, I was skeptical, now I can’t live without her. The key lies in her wicked gaze, suitable for all vices. Her ass-to-mouths are genuine sweetmeats, the inside of her rump sparkles more than Versailles’ Hall of Mirrors, her extreme deep-throats are enchanted slides in which I let myself slip, XL calibers pushing into and out of it, coming with a chamber orchestra executing a baroque suite. Dirt, vice, gaze, love, until your frenulum breaks.

Interlude: Bobbi Starr’s interior

Her presence is so intense you can feel through the screen that the guy holding the camera is having a hard-on, from the look-into-my-eyes POV that turns you into stone. Check out that kisser of hers when she puts up with it, when she perverts petites from San Francisco, her smile, her ass, her hair… Our sexual life would be mind-blowing, our shared orgasms would have the power of several NEA-certified nuclear blasts!

She is the embodiment of subtle pixel decadence, quality fapping material for a thousand years, the best lassie by proxy. Harnessed to her strap, she is my crack dose, cosmic sex becomes total; I watch her, I let her do what she wants, and then I beat her hollow during delicious sessions of submission; together we rewrite Sade through our screens. You and your tattoos could come over, if you like – we’d have a pervert threesome, and you’d be our toy-pet. Bobbi would take care of you, I would just be a sucker dildo endowed with a powerful back-and-forth ability. I don’t know how we would end up yet, but I’m sure we’ll find a decent receptacle to the divine semen. We could play with it, if you want. You know, I’m amazed at how imaginative that chick is.

Her ass, my kingdom

Her porn-game is an angel from above, a hot-air balloon that lifts me up over my big bed, over the sixth floor and my stupid “I love wearing boots on my hot wooden floor” neighbor. Oh, yes! We’re all going to get high with you, Bobbi! We’re going to soar over this shit world sinking into self-sufficiency. We will rise so high the journey on our little endorphin cloud will last for centuries, and then we will slowly flutter back down and give each other a nice long cuddle.

I’m getting high on your face, your movies, the twinkle in your eye – I’m going nuts. I drop tiny tender kisses on my dirty screen. I want to spoon-sleep with you baby, after we have awakened the dormant volcanoes, after we have shown that sex is an endless and subtle game, unfettered, pleasure being our flagship. Modern porn owes nothing to the past, it is rewritten every day; you nostalgic bunch with your forgotten porn stars just kiss my butt! Bobbi and I make up a serene and first-rate couple, and we are off, far away, never coming back! We skirt with the perfect tag, we beat about it, we laugh, and we jump right on it.

Happy orgasm and proud fap. Bobbi Starr, I love you.

Originally translated from this post by Ms. Alice

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