I'd like to borrow the immoral, er, immortal words of R. Kelly and dedicate this column to all my hot girls livin' fiesta and all my hot boys livin' fiesta. With the blackout just past and Labor Day soon upon us, I thought it appropriate to take you, my loyal readers, on vacation. And since the Voice forgot to include Dirty Pornos in their recent redesign, there's plenty of space for us to leisurely indulge in the waterside exploits of this week's Latina starlets. So pull up a lawn chair, grab a fruity cocktail, and hope your laptop battery lasts long enough to get to the part about Tera Patrick's bacne (guaranteed laffs!).

Our sex tour begins with Latin Eye Candy 2 (Silverstone), shot in the U.S., although the colorful parade and beach shots that open the disc could easily have come from south of the border. Elaborately sequined women shake their tail feathers, stand naked under running water, and carry watermelon slices across the sand. (Reminds me of the yearly Maldoro family reunion.) Alas, we abruptly cut to two men with rope-like muscles, one wearing a string-like Speedo, wrestling poolside to the strains of laid-back Latin jazz. (Reminds me of the yearly Maldoro family reunion.)

After a few moments of lunging, grabbing, and pinning, an apparently envious, bikini-clad woman rounds a spiral staircase in the background. The three exchange unmeaningful looks; the guys lick their lips and her pointy tits. Then one of them puts her in a half nelson and forces her to the mat. Only kidding! They have sex with her.

You ladies get another treat in the next scene: a beefy dude with George Michael facial hair and earrings (and leopard-print bikini bottom) exercises in a poolside shower by gripping its walls at the top and lifting himself up and down. He scowls at a roundish dyed-blond who flashes him—can't she see he's busy doing pull-ups in the shower?—but eventually gets down and wedges his George Michael face in her chocha. (The real G.M. should be so lucky.) Then she gives him shower head. I've been waiting for my landlord to replace that thing forever!

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In a bit entitled "Big Boobs," a woman with big boobs waves at a guy sitting in a hot tub, then comes over and licks his balls, which he helpfully thrusts just above the surface. After floating her torpedoes, she gets out and lets her money maker jump. They doggy on the bed and he comes by the corner of her eye, which nearly brought tears to mine. The following scene, which features an exceedingly delicate young'un, is called "Big Meat."

With its references to perverted Latin "pride," the filthy "back streets of Tijuana," and "homemade salsa," the back of South American Pie's (Zero Tolerance) box shows little appreciation for S.A.'s natives and nations. I mean, Tijuana's not even in South America. And yet, one feels transported—somehow. Can you imagine a more idyllic scene than a built man wearing a Speedo (every single guy wears Speedos in these movies, by the way) playing hide-and-seek with a thick, thonged lady while meringue plays? The way he chases her across the grass, then lifts her onto a table and goes for ass-to-mouth just moans child-like innocence.

As does this week's pick scene, which begins with two typically thin, tan-lined young beauties with straight, black hair making out naked on a hotel bed. It is a testament to the greediness of porn directors that we do not see more girl-girl-boy scenes. With South American labor costs being what they are, however, the producers present us with this all-too rare tablow, er, tableau.

After some excited, unintelligible conversation, the girls ring up room service, and a man bearing summery mixed drinks and a big dong soon arrives. He lays back on the bed; one mounts him, while the other rubs his balls and positions her face so that she can alternately take the dong in her mouth and slobber all over her friend's fanny. The p-to-m fades into the ladies sitting on the guy's crotch and face, frenching. The scene, in which all the best positions are thoughtfully shot, culminates in the noisier gal, draped cutely over the other, taking it in the ass with what I can only describe as class.

Island Fever 2 (Digital Playground), sequel to the acclaimed (not by me) classy-couples fantasia film, again presents stone fox Tera Patrick fucking to the sounds of new age muzak on location in Hawaii. Hawaii, like Tijuana, is not located in South America (or Latin America for that matter), and I have no idea what Tera Patrick's ethnic background is. (Seeing her let it all hang out here, I do, however, forgive her recent boob job.) All I do know is that the decent Devon and saline-stacked Stormy are white. Hey—coming up with ingenious headlines that are accurate too isn't easy!

Anyway, director Joone, who is enough of a douche to call himself Joone, fills the screen with breathtaking blah-blah-blah just like last time. Tera, covered in black sand, rubs one out. Tera, surrounded by almost lime-green foliage, gets 'roid-banged by super bore Erik Everhard. Devon, in desert, meanders, masturbates. Stormy squats over dude's face on crusty black lava. Tera sucks dick under cascading waterfall. Storm clouds rush overhead. Close-ups reveal Tera's bacne. I fall asleep. What good are vacations if you can't nap?

Digital Playground, 2115 Devonshire Street #304, Chatsworth, CA, 91311,

Silverstone Entertainment, 9145 Owensmouth Avenue, Chatsworth, CA, 91311,

Zero Tolerance Entertainment, 8944 Mason Avenue, Chatsworth, CA 91311,

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