

Derrick Pierce came out of Springfield, Massachusetts on March 1, 1974. He spent his teenage years running Southern California streets and now squats in Tarzana. Before the porn he was the kid you saw climbing through his girlfriend’s window just to get laid because her parents kept the doors locked. They fucked on the fifty-yard line, on the back of his bike behind some cinderblock wall, anywhere the heat might catch them. He chased the rush on bungee cords and tire rubber, twisting a one-eighty on the asphalt, terrified only of snakes. An old girlfriend pushed him into the game after he burned out on martial arts fantasies. Now he sinks into stories like The 10x Rule, Rich Dad Poor Dad, The Hunt for Red October. On set he lives for missionary and cowgirl, the leverage he gets and the view above him while she works her hips. Half the time strangers clock him in the grocery line. His mother doesn’t flinch. And the cops? He’s lost count.

Derrick Pierce came out of Springfield, Massachusetts on March 1, 1974. He spent his teenage years running Southern California streets and now squats in Tarzana. Before the porn he was the kid you saw climbing through his girlfriend’s window just to get laid because her parents kept the doors locked. They fucked on the fifty-yard line, on the back of his bike behind some cinderblock wall, anywhere the heat might catch them. He chased the rush on bungee cords and tire rubber, twisting a one-eighty on the asphalt, terrified only of snakes. An old girlfriend pushed him into the game after he burned out on martial arts fantasies. Now he sinks into stories like The 10x Rule, Rich Dad Poor Dad, The Hunt for Red October. On set he lives for missionary and cowgirl, the leverage he gets and the view above him while she works her hips. Half the time strangers clock him in the grocery line. His mother doesn’t flinch. And the cops? He’s lost count.