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from www.vegasseven.com – Surely I’ve wandered into a Fellini film.

That would explain why I’m meeting a porn star at a restaurant on Norman Rockwell Lane. Or how, in a booth across from the porn star—who once cheerily accommodated 620 men in one day—I gaze down at an entrée of spread-open tacos.

“Let’s talk while we eat,” says the blond Las Vegan with 36-D assets. “I’m hungry!”

After helping all those gentlemen launch their rockets, dare we say that Houston (yes, that’s her porn handle), we have liftoff?

***

Admission: I don’t know where to begin.

Deep breath here: Granddaughter of Disney artist Clair Weeks, who co-animated Snow White, Houston performed a record-obliterating gang bang. Served jail time for DUI. Dated a high-school fan. Fell into crystal-meth addiction. Underwent extensive cosmetic surgery. Auctioned her excess, excised labia for $50,000. Measured Howard Stern’s penis. Hooked up with Kid Rock and Snoop Dogg. Raised a daughter. Returned to porn at age 43.

Beat cancer.

Consult her confessional and entertaining new book, Houston: Pretty Enough, The Story of the Gang Bang Queen, co-authored by Charles Lupula (self-published, $39), for more on that. Mind its disclaimer: “This is not a how-to book. If you choose to do some of the things I did, I am not responsible for whatever the consequences might be.”

In the flesh, Houston—a.k.a. Kim Halsey, born to a single mom in Long Beach, Calif., in 1969—is a bubbly cross between Barbie and Jessica Rabbit. With Angelina Jolie lips and Dolly Parton breasts, she stands out in a crowd like a sex doll at Toys “R” Us. Yet when she speaks, at least in this public place—her conversation riddled with raucous giggles—traditionally raw industry lingo comes out as “penis” and “vagina.” Porn’s buzzword comes out as “F.”

“Right now, sitting with you today, I’m in a really good place,” says the ex-stripper sex bomb—make that nuclear device—at Leticia’s Mexican Cocina. “Look, they gave him a hat!” she says, briefly diverted by the waitresses singing “Happy Birthday” to an older gentleman, placing a sombrero on his head. “Happy Birthday!” she yells over.

Chewing over her past while nibbling on her tacos, Houston seems to harbor few regrets—excepting drug addiction and a DUI conviction—about her life journey. One that, in a career that commenced in 1995, earned her fame as a “Gonzo” performer specializing in “triple penetrations.”

“Gonzo” would certainly describe The World’s Biggest Gangbang 3: The Houston 620. On Feb. 6, 1999, Houston purportedly had sex with 620 men of all shapes, sizes, ages and nationalities (with a few male porn stars tossed in). Exceeding the horizontal exertions of Annabel Chong (251), Jasmin St. Claire (300) and Spontaneous Xtasy (521, and yes, that’s her name), Houston was enshrined in the Guinness World Records. (Some observers—no surprise—dispute the numbers at these sex-taculars.)

“It was an event, this machine that was created. It was about me becoming the biggest star in the world—period. I am the gang-bang queen, and I’m going to hold onto that title. I earned it!”

Vividly. Beyond sheer outrageousness, what’s striking about The Houston 620 (I admit watching the video purely for reporting purposes) is her unflagging cheerfulness, at least on camera. Stretched out on a circular, rotating red couch, clad only in high heels that are frequently airborne before a winding line of nude, masturbating suitors (all tested for communicable diseases), she never loses her smile.

“OK, next!” an announcer yells as an especially enthusiastic fornicator rises to the job. “Ride ’em cowboy!” she exclaims. “Whew! And the crowd goes wild!” Meanwhile, roaming host Ron Jeremy interviews gang-bangers (some shy, some euphoric), sticks a mic in Houston’s face mid-coitus—“Just ridin’ the wave”! she declares—then later finishes her off to climax The Event.

“Modesty” doesn’t describe this scene, but does reflect Houston’s refusal to hog credit. “Thank God for the fluffer girls,” she says of the ladies whose ministrations kept her dates performance-ready. “Even John Holmes’ ex-wife was there. Without them I wouldn’t have been able to do my job. In and out, I didn’t have to touch it, look at it, they were ready to go.”

(In her book, Houston admits that during a break, she iced down her “battered vagina” and was “fighting back tears.” Afterward, however, she celebrated by scarfing down mozzarella sticks with Jeremy at T.G.I. Friday’s.) All this was red meat to a certain celebrity who also had no problem exposing himself to Houston’s charms. “I measured them all,” says Houston, a frequent guest on Howard Stern’s show, about one visit with his radio gang. “Such a big guy and a little tiny penis. It’s weird. But he made me [famous], practically. A great guy, really cool. I’d work with that.”

Through Stern’s show, Houston met “Brad,” a Staten Island, N.Y., high-schooler who invited her to his prom (to enormous publicity), then relocated to California to be with her. They parted amicably but didn’t reconnect that way when she requested quotes for her book. “He said, ‘Kim, I’m trying for the fire department in New York, and I don’t want this to F-things up for me.’ I said, ‘Our story would F-things up when you called Howard to ask me to the prom? Well, F-you.’”

Drugs, booze and partying—to excess and beyond—are consistent themes throughout Pretty Enough, the crash coming during a 45-day stay in a California jail for DUI. “I’ll never drink and drive again,” Houston says somberly. “It was cold and lonely and you feel like you’re never going to get out of there. They were hard-core girls, sticking their stomachs with needles, sneaking them in their vaginas, doing heroin. I was scared.”

Porn-worn, Houston, with her daughter in tow, moved to Las Vegas in 2004, even obtaining her Realtor’s license during the housing boom.

“I could sell you a house right now,” she says. Yet a gut punch was on the way: Houston was diagnosed with cancer—stage-three melanoma—in 2008.

“By the time I went on Howard Stern to announce I had cancer, I wasn’t sure what my percentage of survival was, but I knew it didn’t look good,” says Houston, who endured surgery and chemotherapy. “My lifestyle, the drugs and partying and drinking and smoking and staying up all night and dancing, I was killing myself. In a sense I gave myself cancer, starving my body of the nutrients it needs. But I’m cancer-free now and just living my life.”

Even so, the experience didn’t leave her eager to reach senior status. “I don’t know if I will be alive, I hope not,” she says. “I don’t want to grow old and be unhealthy and miserable. I want to die feeling good and looking beautiful.”

Accepting the ripple effects of her life, she acknowledges the roughest has been on her now college-age daughter, and partially why she retired and relocated. “She’s a great kid, she loves me and supports me, but we have had our difficult moments with kids being cruel,” Houston says. “Everything from ‘Your mom is Houston, how awesome!’ to ‘Your mom’s a whore.’”

Flashing an ironic smile, Houston recalls what followed her daughter’s first sexual experience with her high-school sweetheart. “She called me, and he called his parents and we were all on a conference call,” she says. “They told us together, and I started crying, ‘Oh my God, my baby!’ I didn’t want his parents to think I was letting them have sex all day long.”

Today, besides nurturing a singing career—several of her singles are on iTunes and SoundCloud.com, and she’s performed at the House of Blues—Houston has reclaimed the porn limelight, filming new scenes for adult site Brazzers.com. Titled Sex Games, it stars Houston as a bored trophy wife who casts a lusty eye toward her hubby’s employee (she quickly casts more than an eye on him).

“It’s awesome to do what I do best. I think I’m an empowerment for women, like with my labiaplasty,” she says of her genital nip-and-tuck for “close-up work” in 1999, after which Dennis Hof, owner of the Moonlite Bunny Ranch, snatched up the trimmings. Encased in Lucite, they’re on display at the brothel. “That was a new frontier. Women didn’t know that existed until I brought that out.”

***

Walking toward our cars after dinner, Houston is chatting happily. About how, strangely, she doesn’t recall ever assuming the pile-driver position on camera. About scheduling a nude photo shoot. About having an enema before on-screen anal intercourse.

We hug goodnight.

Houston, we have splashdown.

from www.vegasseven.com – Surely I’ve wandered into a Fellini film.

That would explain why I’m meeting a porn star at a restaurant on Norman Rockwell Lane. Or how, in a booth across from the porn star—who once cheerily accommodated 620 men in one day—I gaze down at an entrée of spread-open tacos.

“Let’s talk while we eat,” says the blond Las Vegan with 36-D assets. “I’m hungry!”

After helping all those gentlemen launch their rockets, dare we say that Houston (yes, that’s her porn handle), we have liftoff?

***

Admission: I don’t know where to begin.

Deep breath here: Granddaughter of Disney artist Clair Weeks, who co-animated Snow White, Houston performed a record-obliterating gang bang. Served jail time for DUI. Dated a high-school fan. Fell into crystal-meth addiction. Underwent extensive cosmetic surgery. Auctioned her excess, excised labia for $50,000. Measured Howard Stern’s penis. Hooked up with Kid Rock and Snoop Dogg. Raised a daughter. Returned to porn at age 43.

Beat cancer.

Consult her confessional and entertaining new book, Houston: Pretty Enough, The Story of the Gang Bang Queen, co-authored by Charles Lupula (self-published, $39), for more on that. Mind its disclaimer: “This is not a how-to book. If you choose to do some of the things I did, I am not responsible for whatever the consequences might be.”

In the flesh, Houston—a.k.a. Kim Halsey, born to a single mom in Long Beach, Calif., in 1969—is a bubbly cross between Barbie and Jessica Rabbit. With Angelina Jolie lips and Dolly Parton breasts, she stands out in a crowd like a sex doll at Toys “R” Us. Yet when she speaks, at least in this public place—her conversation riddled with raucous giggles—traditionally raw industry lingo comes out as “penis” and “vagina.” Porn’s buzzword comes out as “F.”

“Right now, sitting with you today, I’m in a really good place,” says the ex-stripper sex bomb—make that nuclear device—at Leticia’s Mexican Cocina.

“Look, they gave him a hat!” she says, briefly diverted by the waitresses singing “Happy Birthday” to an older gentleman, placing a sombrero on his head. “Happy Birthday!” she yells over.

Chewing over her past while nibbling on her tacos, Houston seems to harbor few regrets—excepting drug addiction and a DUI conviction—about her life journey. One that, in a career that commenced in 1995, earned her fame as a “Gonzo” performer specializing in “triple penetrations.”

“Gonzo” would certainly describe The World’s Biggest Gangbang 3: The Houston 620. On Feb. 6, 1999, Houston purportedly had sex with 620 men of all shapes, sizes, ages and nationalities (with a few male porn stars tossed in). Exceeding the horizontal exertions of Annabel Chong (251), Jasmin St. Claire (300) and Spontaneous Xtasy (521, and yes, that’s her name), Houston was enshrined in the Guinness World Records. (Some observers—no surprise—dispute the numbers at these sex-taculars.)

“It was an event, this machine that was created. It was about me becoming the biggest star in the world—period. I am the gang-bang queen, and I’m going to hold onto that title. I earned it!”

Vividly. Beyond sheer outrageousness, what’s striking about The Houston 620 (I admit watching the video purely for reporting purposes) is her unflagging cheerfulness, at least on camera. Stretched out on a circular, rotating red couch, clad only in high heels that are frequently airborne before a winding line of nude, masturbating suitors (all tested for communicable diseases), she never loses her smile.

“OK, next!” an announcer yells as an especially enthusiastic fornicator rises to the job. “Ride ’em cowboy!” she exclaims. “Whew! And the crowd goes wild!” Meanwhile, roaming host Ron Jeremy interviews gang-bangers (some shy, some euphoric), sticks a mic in Houston’s face mid-coitus—“Just ridin’ the wave”! she declares—then later finishes her off to climax The Event.

“Modesty” doesn’t describe this scene, but does reflect Houston’s refusal to hog credit. “Thank God for the fluffer girls,” she says of the ladies whose ministrations kept her dates performance-ready. “Even John Holmes’ ex-wife was there. Without them I wouldn’t have been able to do my job. In and out, I didn’t have to touch it, look at it, they were ready to go.”

(In her book, Houston admits that during a break, she iced down her “battered vagina” and was “fighting back tears.”

Afterward, however, she celebrated by scarfing down mozzarella sticks with Jeremy at T.G.I. Friday’s.) All this was red meat to a certain celebrity who also had no problem exposing himself to Houston’s charms.

“I measured them all,” says Houston, a frequent guest on Howard Stern’s show, about one visit with his radio gang. “Such a big guy and a little tiny penis. It’s weird. But he made me [famous], practically. A great guy, really cool. I’d work with that.”

Through Stern’s show, Houston met “Brad,” a Staten Island, N.Y., high-schooler who invited her to his prom (to enormous publicity), then relocated to California to be with her. They parted amicably but didn’t reconnect that way when she requested quotes for her book. “He said, ‘Kim, I’m trying for the fire department in New York, and I don’t want this to F-things up for me.’ I said, ‘Our story would F-things up when you called Howard to ask me to the prom? Well, F-you.’”

Drugs, booze and partying—to excess and beyond—are consistent themes throughout Pretty Enough, the crash coming during a 45-day stay in a California jail for DUI. “I’ll never drink and drive again,” Houston says somberly. “It was cold and lonely and you feel like you’re never going to get out of there. They were hard-core girls, sticking their stomachs with needles, sneaking them in their vaginas, doing heroin. I was scared.”

Porn-worn, Houston, with her daughter in tow, moved to Las Vegas in 2004, even obtaining her Realtor’s license during the housing boom.

“I could sell you a house right now,” she says. Yet a gut punch was on the way: Houston was diagnosed with cancer—stage-three melanoma—in 2008.

“By the time I went on Howard Stern to announce I had cancer, I wasn’t sure what my percentage of survival was, but I knew it didn’t look good,” says Houston, who endured surgery and chemotherapy.

“My lifestyle, the drugs and partying and drinking and smoking and staying up all night and dancing, I was killing myself. In a sense I gave myself cancer, starving my body of the nutrients it needs. But I’m cancer-free now and just living my life.”

Even so, the experience didn’t leave her eager to reach senior status. “I don’t know if I will be alive, I hope not,” she says.

“I don’t want to grow old and be unhealthy and miserable. I want to die feeling good and looking beautiful.”

Accepting the ripple effects of her life, she acknowledges the roughest has been on her now college-age daughter, and partially why she retired and relocated. “She’s a great kid, she loves me and supports me, but we have had our difficult moments with kids being cruel,” Houston says. “Everything from ‘Your mom is Houston, how awesome!’ to ‘Your mom’s a whore.’”

Flashing an ironic smile, Houston recalls what followed her daughter’s first sexual experience with her high-school sweetheart. “She called me, and he called his parents and we were all on a conference call,” she says. “They told us together, and I started crying, ‘Oh my God, my baby!’ I didn’t want his parents to think I was letting them have sex all day long.”

Today, besides nurturing a singing career—several of her singles are on iTunes and SoundCloud.com, and she’s performed at the House of Blues—Houston has reclaimed the porn limelight, filming new scenes for adult site Brazzers.com. Titled Sex Games, it stars Houston as a bored trophy wife who casts a lusty eye toward her hubby’s employee (she quickly casts more than an eye on him).

“It’s awesome to do what I do best. I think I’m an empowerment for women, like with my labiaplasty,” she says of her genital nip-and-tuck for “close-up work” in 1999, after which Dennis Hof, owner of the Moonlite Bunny Ranch, snatched up the trimmings. Encased in Lucite, they’re on display at the brothel. “That was a new frontier. Women didn’t know that existed until I brought that out.”

***

Walking toward our cars after dinner, Houston is chatting happily. About how, strangely, she doesn’t recall ever assuming the pile-driver position on camera. About scheduling a nude photo shoot. About having an enema before on-screen anal intercourse.

We hug goodnight.

Houston, we have splashdown.