By now everyone has been treated, or subjected to (depending on your feelings for) female performers’ inability to go more than a moment, if that, without emitting loud moans, groans and talk designed to let their partner feel that they are masterful and the best in bed, capable of pushing all of their sexual buttons and, above all, providing an orgasm worthy of yelling loud enough to be clearly heard in all corners of Chatsworth.

This offering is much more subtle and still gets the same result. Beginning with Jane Wilde, all of the scenes are shot POV with a basically unseen (from the waist up) Manuel Ferrara, who once again enjoys the perk of being the director and only male. Wilde pretty much speaks softly, seductively at any time her mouth isn’t filled with Ferrara meat. The continuous talk alternates between sensual and dirty and is accentuated with heavy, throaty breathing even while she is riding or getting pummeled in the ass. It is almost like cautious sex wherein the pair tries to keep the noise down almost to a whisper and not awaken anyone nearby.

This is the basic theme, and it works quite well. Gianna Dior, who is the only one not to include anal, is probably the loudest, but she is still not loud at all. The talking itself is just dirty enough to inspire Ferrara, with the result being facials for each gal. 

Think of this being the sexual version of Teddy Roosevelt’s foreign policy of speaking softly and carrying a big stick.