By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
By Raillan Brooks
"Men are pigs"the kicky little motto of MSR Videosis treated like a divine utterance in White Trash, a rollicking roll in the mud in which the guys not only bring home the bacon, but service it too. No, there's no actual bestiality involved, just a lot of oinky goings- on between some "straight" male relatives, and honey, it makes real barnyard action look like the Bloomsbury Circle.
The trailer starts rockin' when Earlene (Rowdy Carson)the big-haired wife of lazy-assed Luther (Trent Cougar)announces that she's off to fulfill her exalted dream of winning a karaoke contest. For Luther and his trashy nephew Jeremiah (Bret Wolfe), this is their big break too. Jeremiah promptly gets to work chugging Uncle Fucka's dick without any sense of what may be natural or right, as Brideshead Revisited reruns blare in the background. (Kiddingthey're watching Springer.) Luther slaps and humiliates the kid all through the sloppy blowjob, but Jeremiah's rewarded when Unca-Dunca comes all over his face and spits out his beer on top of it for effect. (I was amazed that he'd waste a sip.)
And does that satisfy the spunky little piglet? No, he's clearly determined to go through the entire family tree with lips open and legs akimbo. Jeremiah proceeds to devour his cousin Amos (Rod Barry) in the back of a truck, intercut with loving close-ups of a real pig marching around. But inspiringly enough, Amos knows where to draw the line, declaring, "We're not kissing cousins. We're fucking cousins!" (Excuse me, but how sweet is that!) Things get darker later on, when Luther and Amos gang up on a local yokel for stealing their prize porker (no, not Earlene). What they do to him is both horrible and intriguingsex rarely gets this low, which is high praise indeed. Anyhoo, I'd be a real pig not to recommend White Trash. Some of the scenes go on too long, but so do some of the dicks, and it all beats staying home and making love to your leftover beef jerky.
Swim Team, Water Jocks
Pacific Sun Entertainment
Fly 'n Solo
But the sickest new trend in porno involves people fucking folks who aren't related to them at all! That might explain why they need so much outside stimulation, actually. In Spell (All Worlds Video)a frenetic plowfest for the psychic hot line generationcharacters take their body parts on mystical journeys, making sure to bring along titillating props for the ride. In this illusory epic, randy Jay Ross finds himself writhing in insatiable ardor as if a tarot card were spinning around inside his canyon-like butt. Soon enough, practically everyone's having the same reaction, and mere sex isn't good enough for themthey're sucking bananas, chowing down on dildos, licking silk flowers, and even thumbing butts while wearing white, Michael Jackson-type gloves! Ross goes so far as to let ben-wa balls be slid into his asscome near me with those and I'll string you up with them, honeyand then tops that by becoming the center of a dancefloor three-way that turns thump-thump into hump-hump. Turns out it's all the result of a spell (or is it?) placed by a drag queen named Donatellayes, another drag queen named Donatellathough it can always be reversed when it all becomes too much. It all becomes too much. Still, my man-pussy became so hypnotized by this movie that I was almost maybe willing to think about trying those ben-wa balls. For a second.
If you'd rather be in a poolof cum, that isthan under any kind of spell, Swim Team, Water Jocks Part 2 (Pacific Sun Entertainment) might be a splashy enough jaunt for the Greg Loose-anus crowd. The liquidy opus starts with a half-dressed Italian team getting ready in the locker room while exchanging witty nuggets of subtitled dialogue like "We should do something this weekend." They get to work on that soon enough; after a couple of perfunctory breast strokes in the pool, they start stroking their dicks on dry land, and end up sucking and fucking in random assortments that leave them all massively jizz-drenched. It's très delightful, but I have a tiny problem with the fact that all the guys look so much alike (dark hair, wiry bodies, elongated weenies) that they seem to be beginning a master race of swimmers. What's more, the action often looks too staged, as if the director were on the sidelines barking, "Let me see those tongues touch!" And a lot of it is awfully vanilla, with even the ski-mask-and-dildo climax (long story) coming off a little too polite. But you still might want to take a tumble into Swim Team's deep end, even if it's a bit on the shallow side. This is one team that definitely wants your member to be a member.
Usually more of a team player, Thomas Bjorn tries every possible self-stimulatory practice short of licking flowers in Fly 'n Solo (Puppy Productions), and it's a wonder he's not blind yet. A lean, slope-shouldered hottie with cute little tufts of hair on his chest, Bjorn is all by himself as he sits on a dildo, j/o's in the shower, stretches out on the beach, and fingers his ass while you pray his ring doesn't get sucked up there. You have to applaud his onanistic gestures, which are the ultimate in safe sex and make perfect social sense after all. (Men are pigs, remember?) But things become a bit wearisome when he starts to talklonely, I guessthereby reminding us why actual human interaction can be so enriching. Describing his morning regimen ("I've gotten up and had my coffee. Now I'm gonna shave") as he goes about his mundane business, Bjorn suddenly makes you long for another character, preferably one who'd say, "Shush!" Still, he's endlessly game, a real doll, and not trash at all. I like him anyway.