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Rated X: How Porn Liberated Me from Hollywood

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Maitland Ward got her start in acting as a teenager when she was cast in The Bold and the Beautiful, but it wasn’t until she joined the later seasons of the sitcom Boy Meets World that she got her first taste of fame. As the loveable, sexy (but not too sexy) co-ed Rachel McGuire, Ward soon found herself being typecast as the good girl next door and was repeatedly denied darker, more intriguing roles. So she made a career change—one that required her to turn away from the Disney universe—and eventually established herself as one of the most-respected actresses in the porn industry today. I got my period the summer I was twelve, quite by surprise and in the middle of the night. I’m not sure why I was surprised. I was an appropriate age, and Alison and I constantly talked about it. She said she already had it, but she never produced any evidence, except for one wrapped tampon at the bottom of her clear-pink jelly purse. I guess the end of childhood just surprised me. I thought I’d have one more Christmas or Halloween. I sat there shaking on the toilet, lit only by an ocean breeze–scented seashell plugged into the wall, staring at the spots of blood on the toilet paper. I know that some boys kept her from realizing who she was, from pursuing her own dreams. Then she became a wife and a mother. Jesus watched over me through my childhood—not from some place of peace on a cloud but from a miniature gold-plated frame that my grandmother one day propped up on my dresser. Like, poof, all of a sudden there was a blond, blue-eyed Jesus right next to my David Hasselhoff lunch box and they were at odds. She said that this picture would bring me comfort. In fact, much like her father did for her, it kept me up at night.

Rated X | Maitland Ward | 9781982195892 | NetGalley Rated X | Maitland Ward | 9781982195892 | NetGalley

I was acutely aware that if I could remain around the age of seven for the rest of my life, I would make my family proud. Seven, I thought, would be an age where when you danced around the living room in a Cinderella dress, they’d applaud you, but the glass slippers wouldn’t yet pose any real threat. It’s an odd thing to realize no one wants you to grow up when you’re actively doing that. My grandmother was always worried about everything, but mostly about God punishing her for doing something wrong. And when she was worried, she cleaned. She was in constant zigzag motion trying to avoid a lightning strike. It all stemmed from her father who took her out of school in the eighth grade. She said he didn’t like the teacher, and she said it like that was a valid reason. “He was a man of God’s word,” she would say as she washed each dish by hand in her sink. “And he brought us up right to obey.” And she never had a good night’s sleep because of it. We didn’t do anything more than talk about sex or masturbation until we were thirteen and had already been inserting tampons for some months. We were in my grandmother’s guest room when something happened. She was sleeping over, and we wanted to feel what a real French kiss was like. We had bought some good panties at the mall, and we finally discovered what they did. They were scratchy, they rode up your butt, and we spent so much money on them we couldn’t go to a movie. But I liked the way she kissed me and how tingly I felt when her body was pressed to mine. I spent a lot of time alone. I didn’t have any siblings or first cousins or much family at all around, but I was loved—so much so that I felt guilty whenever I played away from home too long. Family consisted of my mom and dad and my grandmother on my father’s side, whose love of gardening and her obsession with the Rapture always had her at odds with the natural elements. “They say Jesus is coming this year,” she’d say. “I wonder if my grapefruits will have come in.” So much casual planning for the end of the world made me feel at home in a controlled state of chaos. She proceeded to explain how she did it, which involved wide, circular hip movements and some Nivea pump lotion. I just watched as the water whirlpooled around her as she demonstrated motions that looked less erotic and more like something that would earn fish at Sea World. “Next week,” she said, “I may try inserting a tampon.”I had gone to that wedding. It was the kind of wedding I wanted, with pink flowers and Disney ice sculptures, and where the bride wears a dress with tiers like cake layers. They even brought her there in a carriage that sort of looked like Cinderella’s, if Cinderella rode in more of an SUV-type pumpkin arrangement. Everyone thought she was an angel. The ideal daughter. My dad wasn’t weird enough to do a purity dance, but wouldn’t he still want to see his daughter honest in white when she danced with him? I didn’t have a real orgasm until I was fourteen and had a mouth full of metal and neon rubber bands. It was entirely by accident on my Strawberry Shortcake canopy bed. An empowering, sex-positive, behind-the-scenes look at both Hollywood and the porn industry in this celebrity memoir unlike any other. Perfect for fans of Pleasure Activism and How to Make Love Like a Porn Star.

Maitland Ward says Boy Meets World producers ‘asked’ her ‘to

I wasn’t supposed to want this, I was sure of that. This wasn’t David Hasselhoff or some Love in the Afternoon soap opera hunk. This was just some kid I knew. I was supposed to wait for some dazzling moment where the birds were singing, and violin music was playing, and a man in a tuxedo would give me my happily ever after. But Daniel was a boy, and I was a girl who didn’t quite feel like a girl anymore. And I wanted to feel like a real woman, if only for a few stolen moments on the grass.

What is Maitland Ward's net worth?

An insider’s account of the rampant misconduct within the Trump administration, including the tumult surrounding the insurrection of Jan. 6, 2021.

Rated X: How Porn Liberated Me from Hollywood - AbeBooks

They knew what we were up to,” Daniel said, pacing his room, as I just lay there with my nice hair and no follow-through. To her credit, my mom didn’t act weird or anything, and she gave me all the information I needed for hygiene and personal care.

Is Maitland Ward married?

If I let you do it one time, really fast, do you promise not to say anything to anyone ever?” I had asked him on the phone a few nights prior. The line was silent for a moment, and then he said, “How fast?” I rolled my eyes and flipped onto my stomach on my bed. “Like regular speed but before I change my mind.” The whole thing left me with the feeling that being a woman would be an injury I’d always have to nurse.

Rated X eBook by Maitland Ward | Official Publisher Page Rated X eBook by Maitland Ward | Official Publisher Page

The memoir of a former TV star who found freedom, success, and herself in the pornography industry. Between both of them, my grandma and my mother, sex became a game of outrunning the enemy—namely, boys. I knew what to look for and how to escape. But what left me awake and guilty and praying to a little gold-rimmed photo of Jesus every night were the hormones that were raging inside me.

I don’t really have any fancy panties,” I said, thinking she meant those satin ones from Victoria’s Secret I’d seen in the catalogs. They looked smooth and decadent and like they did something I didn’t know about yet. They looked like the kind of panties the girls on As the World Turns wore. I reached a deal with Jesus that night: he would keep my sin a secret from everyone, and I’d keep our PR game strong. Don’t give it up to any man who won’t commit to paying your bills,” my grandmother once said after giving me the talk about the cows and the mooching pervert who drank all that free milk from the fast titties. She thought this was encouragement for me to uphold my virtue; it turns out it was a solid business model for OnlyFans. Hey, part of the deal was tits,” he said to me, motioning for me to take off my shirt. I lifted it away and then nodded permission for him to take off the bra. I felt myself shaking as he watched me sitting there, tits out and bare to him. He had only squeezed them under my shirt before, and he had never stared. His eyeballs were glued to them now. “Those are some nice ones,” he said. After I determined he had enough to remember them by, I made him turn out the lights.

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