Hot concept, sexily executed. The models are supposed to be Factory Video studio workmen building a porn set. Director Parker asks them to do spontaneous sex scenes-therefore, the occasional shaky camera, offscreen noise, and lack of music only add to the realism (although the men are a bit clean for workmen, and happen to be beautifully lit). Parker pretends to find two painters playing with each other, and persuades them to continue-which doesn't explain why they were already being shot. And nicely shot, too. The models' rosy flesh looks delectable against golden raw wood, chalk-white plaster, and half-painted walls. And videographer Morris, as always, really knows how to capture the weight and volume of hard cocks, wet or dry, choking mouths or splitting asses, go-go-going or coming, coming, coming. The sight of Marc Sterling against a blue wall, backing his white ass onto Rusty Samuels' erection clear down to Samuels' red bush, is a vision in patriotic color. Finally, on the completed, pretty set, Parker and Morris shoot a juicy and rather nasty scene of burly Handler blowing, rimming, fucking, and then trading kisses with blond god Holt.