By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
Yep, it's the-best-of-both-worlds week, where your favorite "urban"-music stars swing eps on camera. Actually, Snoop just smokes blunts and throws signs, but his acclaimed entrée into porn still distinguishes itself from the "Doggystyle" competition I found browsingnamely, a vid shot from the pet's perspective and another more, um, literal interpretation. The cynics among us might point out that we haven't heard from the Dogg in a minute, and that he may be trying to capitalize on his fading fame. They're correct. Still, as a porn producer Snoop comes correct, hiring fine actresses, renting out a decent crib, and of course, contributing to the soundtrack alongside homeslices tha Eastsidaz, whose sterile mid-'90s G-funk sucks less than the endless, aggressively cheerful Casio loops often heard in porn.
Mark Anthony (not the singer) gets his weirdly bulbous dong sucked by Obsession in Doggystyle's first scene. She finishes up, in an amazing feat of editing, just as the wack track that's playing does. In a perfect world, Brandy would make a similar video with the real Marc Anthonya remix of "The Boy Is Mine," say, where she trades sloppy fours with Monica. As much as I'd love to see someone free Brandy's breasts from their constricting garments, gently tug off her soaked white panties, and ask her what she meant by "I Wanna Be Down," watching the elegant Obsession only gets better with increased familiarity. And it doesn't hurt when she's reclined on the gently sloping path of an elaborate fountain, clear water splashing about her sides, with Mark slowly but firmly working in and out of her from above. Actually, it might hurt, but you'd have to ask her.
All that said, let's not forget Snoop's sage words: "The pussy got a namebut it might change." Indeed. Even in a bad scene, the thin, dark-skinned beauty India (mentioned in last week's column) will have you yanking at your belt buckle faster than you can say, "Her forbidding manner and runway looks force me to partially undress and masturbate," and this is a great scene, in which India manipulates Charlie (she of huge, telescoping tits), a lawn chair, a pink dildo, and a Twizzler (use your imagination . . . no, wait, just buy the video). And finally, if you're a fan of pot smoke getting blown onto women's asses, Doggystyle is definitely for you!
But if it's smoke getting blown out of women's mouths onto flesh blunts that gets you going, Hip Hop & Porn Stars should turn the trick. To fulfill the "hip-hop" end of the equation, narrator and star Wesley Pipes interviews seminal West Coast OGs Compton's Most Wanted (including, most notably, former member MC Eight) in the studio while actresses impressively bounce their budonkadonk, Miami-bass-style. In other words, we get to hear when everyone's new album is dropping in the form of long stoner monologues. Miraculously, the crushing makes up for this. After a neat scene where Gucci, sitting on the roof of a Camaro, spreads her legs to oncoming traffic, Pipes, a buddy, and two women end up fucking every which way in a nicely furnished bedroom. Pipes, who for obvious reasons we'll call Biggie, and his buddy, who we'll call Smalls, get the smoke treatment from their thick honeys. Smalls can't keep it up, however, and Biggie mostly takes over, doing the one falling out of her white halter top from behind, lying on his back, and talking dirty ("What's your name again?"), while the other, buck naked, tongues Halter Top's ass. Lucky for Buck Naked, Halter Top saves her "pussy fart" (shown in an outtake) for when Biggie's eating her out.
I get the impression R. Kelly might find that hot, having viewed his tape, which we'll call Feeling on Your Underage Booty. There are a couple other vids allegedly showing Kelly giving and getting oral out there, but they're short and boring. This nearly 27-minute video opens ominously in an empty, dark, wood-paneled space with a loan consolidation ad playing in the background. R., in baggy red sweatpants and a white T-shirt, enters the frame, sits, and rubs his ass against a black pillow placed on the bench, presumably to see if it'll shift too much later. Satisfied with the setup, he seats the girl, conspicuously hands her a few crumpled bills, drops his pants, and lifts his shirt . . . a few moments later, we see her dancing naked to the Backstreet Boys while Kelly moans like a wounded soldier. Sheesh, he could've just changed the station.