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All models were at least 18 years old at the time of their performance. 18 U.S.C. 2257 Record-Keeping Requirements Compliance Statement.
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S.M.U.T. 11

Released Apr 01st, 1999
Running Time 115
Director Dion Giarrusso
Company Elegant Angel Productions
Cast Justin (I), Torri, Roxanne Hall, Sean Michaels, Shelbee Myne, Marissa Mornet, Raquel DeVine, Tyce Bune, Crystal Knight, Charlie (I), Pat Myne
Critical Rating AAA 1/2
Genre All-Sex

Rating

Synopsis

Recent volumes of this series have ranked as high as the 20s or even the teens on some charts. Stock with confidence, therefore, and display in your new releases, wall-to-wall or Elegant Angel sections

Reviews

It takes a while to get to 'em, but a couple of scenes here really live up this series' name. And in so doing, they lift S.M.U.T. 11 above the more mundane wall-to-wall pack.

The tape's first three couplings -- Charlie-Crystal Knight, Torri/Tyce Buné and Raquel DeVine/Sean Michaels -- all have their moments, but nonetheless don't amount to anything particularly memorable.

One splendid exception, however, is Buné's money shot. He shoots his load with such violent force into Torri's mouth that it causes her to instantly gag, then crack up hysterically before crawling out of frame like a wounded duck. It's a virtual lock to resurface in the next Slop Shots collection.

Even so, it's not until scene four, in which Shelbee Myne and Marissa Mornet square off with Myne's hubby Pat and Justin, that S.M.U.T. 11 finally reaches a sustained boil. Credit in large part Shelbee Myne, who jump-starts her sometimes less-than-impressive performance skills onto a whole new take-charge, trash-talking level as she ingests her significant other in all three holes. And though her performance tends to overshadow Mornet's, the latter briefly steals back the limelight with a massive squirt straight into the camera.

It's a tough act to follow, but the closer lives up to the challenge as Roxanne Hall, Mornet and especially wild woman DeVine -- sporting a sin-sational make over -- pile on in a sizzling tongue, hardware and finger fandango. Repeatedly addressing viewers with seductive little nothings, the three fillies simply reek of shameless wickedness.



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