Manuel Ferrara must have been aiming to imbue the seventh volume of his ingénue series with the sort of extra special je ne sais quoi the number evokes, because a more grade-A smorgasbord of tantalizingly Ripe female confectionary is difficult to fathom. Aside from featuring easily the two hottest It girls in the pornosphere right now—Gianna Dior and Autumn Falls—Ripe 7 fills out the remaining half of its marquee with the somewhat more veteran but no less incendiary Adria Rae and Alex Blake.

Rae kicks off the title with the only anal scene of the bunch, first blowing director/lone dick-slinger Ferrara in POV before he hands off the camera and takes her vaginally in spoon and cowgirl. Moving back into spoon again, Rae’s eyes light up with sheer bliss as he penetrates her ass. She wails as he pounds her at various speeds, always with that trademark Ferrara profusion of stern passion. After he face-fucks her a bit, her eyes wide with glee, Ferrara takes Rae in doggie and mish, finally blasting into her brightly grinning, eagerly agape mouth.

Next up, the criminally unsung Blake, sporting a heart-shaped pubic patch, does a mouthwatering tease in a filled bathtub before we cut right to her and Ferrara making out in a living room. Blake seems unable to stop cumming from beginning to end of the scene, her face a visage of ecstasy as she rides Ferrara cowgirl and they work their way into spoon and sideways mish. “Your cock is so good,” she gasps repeatedly as they grind in several more positions before he unloads heartily across her face.

The incredible Autumn Falls is next, bumping nads with Ferrara on a white couch in a loft, and seeming to succumb completely to the French lady-killer’s charms, even allowing him to finger and tongue her butthole, despite the fact that she has not yet popped her on-screen anal cherry.

More butthole fingering of another virgin to lensed sodomy transpires in the final scene, a blowout with super-stunner Dior that was understandably saved for last, though it only emerges as the gold medalist of this exceptional quartet by the slimmest of hairs. It’s a bit rougher than the other scenes, with some light slapping and choking. One particularly memorable portion is when Dior and Ferrara move off the gold-covered bed (!) and over to a large mirror against which he rails her rabidly from behind as she licks the glass.

All told, a no-nonsense, to-the-point package of killer stroke material the likes of which is far too uncommon to run across in today's XXX heap.