No Means Yes!

Comments (0) By Johnny Maldoro Tuesday, Aug 6 2002

Not! Well, maybe on Opposite Day “no” means “yes.” Then again, people’s weird dominant and submissive tendencies complicate intercourse discourse. Or is it discourse during intercourse? (When it comes to the old in-out, in-out, nothing’s an either/or proposition. Maybe.) As some guy clarifies in Just Say No (Elegant Angel), “stop means stop.” So I will, and start reviewing this week’s movies, half of which feature men who are turned on by no-no’s and the women who turn their no-noses up at them.

Details

Just Say No
Elegant Angel

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Guttermouths 25
JM
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Babysitter 11
Notorious
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Girls Who Say . . . Yes
X-traordinary
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Director Zakk Wylde, not to be confused with Oscar Wilde, writes on the box: “These six little cockteasers want so badly to say YES, but every time that word NO comes out of their dirty little mouths, my dick gets harder and harder.” It’s hard to understand, then, why only two of Just Say No’s six vignettes actually have women using the N-word—Daisy Chains claims, most notably, that her “head” dissents. According to Wylde, Daisy only does girls on camera (this couldn’t be confirmed as of press time), but when she’s told her co-star’s a no-show, so, hey, here’s a guy who’ll fuck you, her body can’t resist. After some gentle caressing, particularly of her sensitive feet, the man’s got her nipple rings between his teeth and her love juice on his chin. “Your penis is so beautiful,” she cries out, lovingly pushing it into her cheeks and down her throat—she’s the most convincingly aroused and realistically “exploited” of the women in this or any of the other flicks. Her apparently unscripted demand for a kiss results in another unique moment: The lunk’s flat, no-means-no refusal. I wonder what happened to Wylde’s dick when he heard that.

I myself popped a trouser-ripper watching Olivia Saint pounce on the meek sap who thought he’d requested maid service, not a dominatrix: “You did not order a cleaning lady, motherfucker. I’m here to tell you to shut the fuck up.” Apparently, “no” also means “I didn’t know I was ordering a dominatrix.” The statuesque blond takes her time flipping the gender roles, reserving touching rights for herself, drooling all over a large doughnut-shaped mirror she tosses over his cock, and working her clit with said cock before slowly easing onto it, reverse cowgirl, and loudly slapping her buns—not (gender) roles or doughnuts—against his thighs. Bravo! Porn’s pushy guys are a dom a dozen.

In Guttermouths 25(JM), hot, punky chubster Drew Lynn calls her mumbly man a “bitch,” but only after announcing, “I’m going to show everybody what a whore I am.” Her back-of-the-box profile, an unlikely “true story,” claims that Drew wouldn’t do the “demeaning” things that JM flicks supposedly require, “yet two weeks later, when the whore needs drug money, she agrees to be ass-fucked in Guttermouths.” Her bum does get pricked—and sniffed by a doggie who wanders into the yard—but I found the brief masturbation interlude and enthusiastic piggy noises she makes sucking off her bitch more memorable. Drew, if you’re willing to pick the seeds out, I’ll smoke you up any time.

We’re told Euro-accented guttermouth Judy Star “looks great getting gang-banged by angry black men,” but she only gets to order one white dude to “fahk” her “poosee,” whatever that means. Holly Halston, who looks like she just got off a rodeo clown gig (with white vinyl boots, ass-exposing skirt and matching panties, and fakies for distracting the animals), professes her love for nose-fucking and the taste of ass, which I find similar to shitty chicken, or, depending on its preparation, poosee.

The young entrepreneurial chicks of Babysitter 11 (Notorious) find themselves thrust into—situations they don’t expect. Torpedo-breasted Demi is folding her employers’ laundry when a kidnapper comes up from behind her and presses a white cloth over her mouth. Flash to her lying on the ground, naked, surrounded by potted plants. Demi’s in the Amazon! Luckily, she happens on a police outpost, where a greasy-haired Kurtz-cum-Pat Bateman figure listens to her story: “My butt hurts. Where’s the U.S. embassy?” What follows is the most egregious editing job I’ve yet witnessed: A shot of the man grunting into Demi from behind as she grips a desk’s edge is repeated at least three times, with longer, more generic shots looped over and over, crowned by most of the scene being played again with left and right reversed. When Demi’s zit suddenly moved across her forehead, I thought I was losing my mind!

Turns out I was just losing my porn-production naïveté. The conceptually ambitious Girls Who Say . . . Yes (X-traordinary) concerns another naïve sex scribbler—Harlan Hackelstein, vaguely reminiscent of Mr. Belvedere—who finds that his book on dating, I’m OK, You’re OK Too, Provided It’s Two a.m. and the Bars Are Closing, grossly misrepresents its subject. “Women are saying yes more and more,” insists interviewee Wyatt, proving it poolside with the badly boob-jobbed Charlene in a typically shit-bland sex scene. Harlan descends into drunken self-pity as he witnesses shocking marital infidelities, casual prostitution, and dates where an elegant dinner is skipped in favor of a deep-throat, which I hear comes out great on a George Foreman Grill.