Jenna J. versus Bella D.!

Porn isn't just wide-eyed newbies, dilated pupils, and gaping assholes. As recent events prove, the industry's actresses, actors, and even execs risk plenty by splashing our collective fantasies on the li'l screen. You've probably read about the HIV scare that's shut down about half of the valley's production for the next two months. Lara Roxx, a starlet three months into her career, appears to have caught the virus from Darren James, who likely picked it up filming in Brazil; dozens they subsequently had sex with are being tested. Production houses stockpile vids to prepare for this eventuality, but although there'll be no shortage of new stroke material on shelves, the women and men who star in it are for all intents and purposes laid off. And if Roxx and James have health insurance, they probably needed to secure it themselves.

Meanwhile, The New York Times reports that S.O.B. A.G. John Ashcroft is directing the Justice Department to prosecute pornographers on obscenity charges, starting with a case against an L.A. company being pursued in Pittsburgh, where tapes supposedly depicting rape and murder were ordered by the government. I'm not exactly in favor of simulated snuff, but I doubt Ashcroft, who appears to have a flagpole rammed up his saggy rear end, will stop with extreme gorn. Enough puritanical dookie juice has already poured from the gaping asshole in his face to convince anyone of that.

But enough with the serious shit. Let's chat about some sexy gapers! Bella Loves Jenna (Club Jenna/Vivid) divides porn's dark side—Belladonna and her jaw-dropping blowjob technique—from its public face: Jenna Jameson, who has started a fund to help her fellow freelance fuckers pay rent for the next 60 days. Jenna's mainstream fame owes in part to the fact that she is everything the average US Weekly reader expects a porn star to be: bottle-blond, fake-titted, charismatic in an uncomplicated, sexually aloof way. Bella has earned her recognition within the industry one breathtaking deep throat at a time; she doesn't so much seem ambitious as uncontrollably horny, and her black bob, weird tattoos, smallish breasts, and gonzo (as opposed to contract) background aren't likely to land her on any Blink-182 album covers. Insert joke in gaping asshole —I mean, insert gaping asshole joke here.


Bella Loves Jenna
Club Jenna/Vivid

Perverted Stories 17

Meat Grinders

Bella Loves Jenna isn't a love story; the two only share one scene. In fact, it's not even really a story. Directors Justin Sterling and Jenna take porn's incoherence-as-heaviness shortcut with Brazil of a killer—i.e., Jenna, who ate her parents when she was four, after being locked in the house with their bodies following their murders, and went on to . . . I forget, kill some people I guess. (A narrator, who appears in staticky black-and-white over a color background, announces all this soberly. There is also a midget, who I'll get to . . . shortly.)

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Anyway, Jenna's being wheeled to her execution, but when she's doused with water to aid the electric chair's current, we flash to her head being shoved under water by Nazis! (Those guys are the worst.) Then she's pushing Bella, lying dead on a gurney, down a basement hallway. Both are wearing fuzzy, fishnet, and smeared-eyeshadow kinderwhore outfits. Mouth-to-mouth and some chest pounding leads to mouth-to-pussy and some, well, pussy pounding. The aggression slowly builds: smoochy-smoochy; slobber-slobber; grab-pinch-slap; Jenna, folded in half with hands gripping black boots, gets tongue-fugged; Bella, on hands and knees, gets four-fingered. Heavy metal plays. The midget rings the bell on his tricycle, and they all switch places.

Later, dressed in a latex nurse's outfit, Jenna rubs one out while a doc with rotted teeth, speculum, and pink ballerina patient in stirrups (with metal holding her mouth open) collects a sample of his own semen in a cup. (Reminds me of that old Rorschach-test joke that ends, "I'm not the pervert, Doctor. You're the one who keeps showing me all of these naughty pictures!") Only in the next scene does Jenna get to collect cum herself, from another dead body she revives on a gurney, this one a pale male whose face she sits on. When she gets facialed, it cuts to her being shoved underwater by Nazis again: "We're going to execute your teddy bear!" one thunders, apparently unaware of how unsubtly he's threatening her innocence.

Bella then wilds out with a dirty welder, sucking him off as he stands behind her by bending forward between her legs, then mounting some huge piece of machinery in platform heels so they can precariously ram up by the ceiling. The midget, wearing a schoolgirl outfit, pole-dances. Two seemingly identical '50s-style schoolgirls (ruffled pink-and-black outfits with sheep on the skirts) later get fucked on a piano by a blood-spattered nurse. With all these students, I suppose there's a lesson. Just don't ask me what it is.

Perverted Stories 17 (JM) predictably skimps on morals. There's four stories: "The Birthday Surprise," which John Ashcroft may be interested to know shows a wife more or less raped by masked men on her birthday, the surprise being one of the guys turns out to be her hubby; "He Beats Alone," about a naked man who hides out in a warehouse jerking off; "The Ugandan Mishap," which racists may be interested to know relates the experience of a professor whose head gets shrunk in Africa (he wears a rubber mask with a small face and lots of hair) and whose dick grows large back home; and "Wormboy," a scene in which a wavy blond blows and rides a man buried, but for his face and worm, beneath soil crawling with bait. Go fishing . . . uh, go figure.

Meat Grinders (JM) advertises "fresh grade gape" and shows a woman endlessly teased while wrapped in clear, zippered plastic, like a comforter might come packaged in. Watching her, I was gaping myself.

Club Jenna/Vivid, 15127 Califa Street, Van Nuys, CA 91411,

JM, 9140 Owensmouth Avenue, Chatsworth, CA 91311,

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