Wicked Pictures is known for its contract beauties and storyline features, but even they couldn't resist jumping on the interracial bandwagon (still going strong 4 years after this film) with this forgettable movie. Top femme talent, in terms of arousal potential rather than marquee value, saves the day.
Covergirl Dana DeArmond takes top honors with her usual uninhibited performance. She takes in Prince Flash Brown's lengthy dick, both in endless deep throat action and effortless anal sex, as if it were no big deal, and the fans have a treat.
Unfortunately, her segment like all the others plays as simply a corny dirty joke, with director Jonathan Morgan under the delusion that various awards means anything he throws up on the screen constitutes comedy. There's no humor here, despite the heroic efforts of motor-mouth Raquel Devine, who in a coffee klatch with two friends talks dirty non-stop. They recall anecdotes about their own sexual escapades and those of neighbors, illustrated in vignette flashbacks. All concern Black men, culminating in some group sex encounters.
Of these my favorite was Sienna West paying off two uppity contractors who refuse to finish her remodeling job unless she parts with mucho additional dinero. Sienna wisely substitutes sex for cash and handles the cocks of Jon Jon and Prince Yahshua with great skill. Prince's quite antiquated vaudeville routine of cross- talk with the willing but unable to speak properly Jon Jon is amateurish attempt at humor that I found merely embarrassing, though it might have worked had director Morgan played the racial stereotyping card a bit more boldly. Even his irreverence is apparently subject to self-censorship, whereas a Jake Steed in charge would have pushed it, heedless of p.c. criticism.
Covergirl Dana DeArmond takes top honors with her usual uninhibited performance. She takes in Prince Flash Brown's lengthy dick, both in endless deep throat action and effortless anal sex, as if it were no big deal, and the fans have a treat.
Unfortunately, her segment like all the others plays as simply a corny dirty joke, with director Jonathan Morgan under the delusion that various awards means anything he throws up on the screen constitutes comedy. There's no humor here, despite the heroic efforts of motor-mouth Raquel Devine, who in a coffee klatch with two friends talks dirty non-stop. They recall anecdotes about their own sexual escapades and those of neighbors, illustrated in vignette flashbacks. All concern Black men, culminating in some group sex encounters.
Of these my favorite was Sienna West paying off two uppity contractors who refuse to finish her remodeling job unless she parts with mucho additional dinero. Sienna wisely substitutes sex for cash and handles the cocks of Jon Jon and Prince Yahshua with great skill. Prince's quite antiquated vaudeville routine of cross- talk with the willing but unable to speak properly Jon Jon is amateurish attempt at humor that I found merely embarrassing, though it might have worked had director Morgan played the racial stereotyping card a bit more boldly. Even his irreverence is apparently subject to self-censorship, whereas a Jake Steed in charge would have pushed it, heedless of p.c. criticism.