Ryan Mclane
Love Blossoms Scene 3
Daddy Did The Babysitter Scene 3
Shes The One Scene 2
Busty Invaders From Mars Scene 1
edating Exposed Scene 4
Ryan McLane came into this world on September 24, 1982, standing six-foot-one and turning heads ever since. He skipped the whole basketball scholarship thing at Butler because the bill would’ve crushed his family. After one family trip to LA he never left; volleyball replaced hoops and the rest is a blur of beaches and bodies. He jumped into the industry at twenty-seven, famous now for that six-pack sharp enough to cut glass. Lost his virginity in a brothel. “Don’t recommend it,” he says with a shrug. Straight up. First day on set he found himself in a Hollywood loft filled with forty-nine other dudes all beating off, waiting their turn to finish on some starlet’s face. “You sure as hell don’t want to go last,” he laughs. The wildest moment wasn’t sexual, though. It was loving a girl once—really loving her—the kind of feeling that makes you stupid. He says he’d have done anything, gone anywhere, just to keep her smiling. Now he looks back on that innocence like it was the craziest ride of his life. His biggest fear? Living forever. Drop him on a desert island and he wants a boat, medical supplies, a string of gorgeous women, and a stocked fridge—sounds like paradise, not punishment. He’ll quote The Fountainhead all day; Ayn Rand’s the gospel for an unapologetic objectivist. Favorite flick switched from Jerry Maguire to La La Land overnight; something about the soundtrack, the city, the struggle hit home. Top three obsessions: family phone calls, sketching designs, and grinding in the gym until the sweat blinds him. Mom and Dad know exactly what their boy does for a living and they’re good with it. No arrests, no skeletons—just one reckless tweet calling Vin Scully overrated and the whole town lost its mind.
Ryan McLane came into this world on September 24, 1982, standing six-foot-one and turning heads ever since. He skipped the whole basketball scholarship thing at Butler because the bill would’ve crushed his family. After one family trip to LA he never left; volleyball replaced hoops and the rest is a blur of beaches and bodies. He jumped into the industry at twenty-seven, famous now for that six-pack sharp enough to cut glass. Lost his virginity in a brothel. “Don’t recommend it,” he says with a shrug. Straight up. First day on set he found himself in a Hollywood loft filled with forty-nine other dudes all beating off, waiting their turn to finish on some starlet’s face. “You sure as hell don’t want to go last,” he laughs. The wildest moment wasn’t sexual, though. It was loving a girl once—really loving her—the kind of feeling that makes you stupid. He says he’d have done anything, gone anywhere, just to keep her smiling. Now he looks back on that innocence like it was the craziest ride of his life. His biggest fear? Living forever. Drop him on a desert island and he wants a boat, medical supplies, a string of gorgeous women, and a stocked fridge—sounds like paradise, not punishment. He’ll quote The Fountainhead all day; Ayn Rand’s the gospel for an unapologetic objectivist. Favorite flick switched from Jerry Maguire to La La Land overnight; something about the soundtrack, the city, the struggle hit home. Top three obsessions: family phone calls, sketching designs, and grinding in the gym until the sweat blinds him. Mom and Dad know exactly what their boy does for a living and they’re good with it. No arrests, no skeletons—just one reckless tweet calling Vin Scully overrated and the whole town lost its mind.