Hey Ladies!

Let's be straight about this: I like penises. I like mine, and I like seeing 'em put to use in porn. They are big dumb motors for movement in the unsubtle world of skin flicks: erection, action, and cumshot completion. In literary terms, that's a dramatic arc. This fact did not stop a lucky recipient of my most recent porn giveaway from whining about dick—the homoeroticism he perceived in beating off to another man's pleasure. (He also called ass-to-mouth "nasty"—I was tempted to rinse his mouth out with soap for that one!) Meanwhile, few find fault with the staged homoeroticism of girl-on-girl. As for me, I'm not only a cunning linguist, but a fan of cunnilingus!

That's an old joke, I know, but little did I realize that No Man's Land Pt. 5: Dream Lovers (Video Team) was an old movie. The box claims 2002 as its "production date," but that must be when the DVD was manufactured—from the furry bushes, hoop earrings, oversized glasses, and huge, permed hair, I'm guessing these ladies actually went muff diving sometime in the early '80s. (Potential kitschy supplement to your next party in Williamsburg?) Per plotted-porn formula, things immediately kick off with a sex scene. Rusty—not a dog, but in fact a rather tall and pretty doctor—stands by a mirror, smoothing over her bright blue power suit. "Wife" Carolyn—arf, arf—lies half naked on the bed, and manages to distract Rusty from her important appointment. In a common, crowd-pleasing girl-girl move, the two begin making out, all sugar-and-spice lips and darting pink tongues and rosy red cheeks. Trading her power suit for a bikini tan line, Rusty runs her elegant fingers through Carolyn's glistening, vinegar-and-musk lips, turns over, gets gently brought to a turn-down-the-volume-so-my-neighbors-don't-know-I'm-a-porn-reviewer orgasm, and straps on a "novelty store"-bought power suit, this one oversized and fleshy.

On time for her appointment, miraculously, Rusty makes the pitch to a funder of her experimental therapy. The doc's medical team has devised a way of inducing REM "by means of ultrasonic waves" for the purposes of "dream enhancement" ("It will be as accessible as video arcades!"). Before the first volunteer shows up (and before we can fall asleep), the good doctor puts on a pair of headphones to test the product on herself. She spends the next few scenes rubbing her nips through her blouse as she has visions of every puffy-haired, elaborate-lingerie-clad woman around her—from a mannish, naturally full-chested co-worker to the mannish-voiced, German-accented backer to her own wife—taking a pussy lickin' and strap-on reaming. The reverie comes to an end, however, when Rusty encounters a woman so beautiful and skilled at using a double-headed dildo that real women pale in comparison. Upon waking, she discovers this superwoman of her dreams is the volunteer, standing by her side! And then they make out!

The ending of White Panty Chronicles 8 (Digital Playground) was, for me, not so happy. On the back of the package I somehow missed, among all the tighty-whitie-clad gals, a lone, half-erect p-e-n-i-s. After the first, ladies-only scene, men crashed my party. It hardly matters though: Besides my general lack of interest in white panties (the frilly ones featured here, anyhow), I found the flashy editing style almost literally nauseating. The extensive pre- and mid-sex interview footage is grainy, ultra-close-up-laden videotape of the original recording being projected onto a home theater screen, the edges of which appear every time the jackass cameraman violently swoops to the side. I suffered through British slut Goldie's estimation of the Beatles ("all right"), followed by descriptions of her previous career manufacturing hearing aids ("For deaf people?" the interviewer trenchantly inquires) and last fetish gig (stepping on a man with "polio"—"His legs didn't work!"). She and strawberry blond Rayveness (loves Jo Dee Messina and Mariah Carey, plus, apparently, stupid names) take turns with a rubber dildo planted on a chaise lounge by a sunlit pool, the whole affair ruined by more obnoxious, orgasm-timed ultra-close-ups. Of their faces.

Like No Man's Land Pt. 5, Virtual Sex with Janine (Digital Playground) connects sex with technology. Janine, long-highlighted-haired porn star and Penthouse Pet, half-heartedly responds to commands the DVD viewer selects from the screen. For instance: If you want to see Janine take it in the bum, you click on "anal." Same goes for brief recitations of her sexual history, striptease ("Should I take off my bra? I think so"), sex in one of four positions, titty fuggin’, finger fuggin’, oral, and orgasm—and in most scenarios you get to choose whether she talks naughty or nice. This virtually turned me on. For example, if you choose to give her oral, she lays back against a blank-black background, spreads, rubs herself, and claims that "your tongue feels so good!" (What does she know? I had just burned it on some soup!)

Weirder still—and why I include her vid in this ladies-only column—is that when you option for her to give oral, a very long, pale-flesh dildo pops into the screen, and as Janine performs even more lamely than she must in a traditional sex scene, the boobies belonging to whoever's strapped to the dildo themselves pop into view! Furthermore, if you choose to cum, this same dildo generously squirts a sticky white substance all over Janine's privates (or chin)! Besides looking completely retarded, this "virtual" control is in fact a relinquishing of control to an anonymous, fancily outfitted woman. Is there a difference between having virtual control and relinquishing it? I'm not sure, and thinking about it makes my heads hurt. That women may avail themselves of eternally erect, cum-on-command sausages—just as feminism has opened up opportunities for them to bring home the bacon—can't be a bad thing. Still, the virtues of virtual reality cannot compare with suspension of disbelief. Straight up.


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