Archaeologists Joey Silvera and Tyffany Million uncover an ancient tomb, breaking a seal and unwittingly release a curse that sounds more like a blessing in disguise: insatiable sexual frenzy. Having violated the sacred temple, it is up to Silvera and Million to attempt to undo the curse before they and those around them are driven mad with visions of unbridled sexual depravity.

A masturbation dream-team, comprised of Jill Kelly, Sindee Coxx and Heather Lee, pay a nocturnal visit to Silvera. Materializing behind him in his room as he slumbers fitfully, they begin with a languid self-fingering exploratory tease which leads into an acrobatic Escher-like Sapphic bash. Kelly literally bends over backwards to receive a golden dildo in her hungry twat from the sinewy Coxx as she herself plows Lee's pussy with a huge rubber cock in a nominations-worthy girl/girl/girl drooler.

Director Stuart Canterbury expertly weaves a clear "history" of the temple, brining in ultra-closeups of its former denizens, all shamelessly performing their pagan shenanigans. A spectacular cast aptly lends hands, mouths, and genitalia to this effort. Bridgette Monroe and Kyle Stone portray the horny and ultimately doomed royal couple who initially bring the curse upon themselves with their inability to remain chaste. Award-winner Kaitlyn Ashley receives the holy dick on the sacred altar from high priest Tony Martino, as his stony pillar slips through her glistening temple gates.

Kimberly Kyle is a masked temptress who dances her Salome-of-the-seven-veils dance, and receives the Ben-Hur chariot race of anal in a reverse-cowgirl, compliments of seduced devotee Tom Chapman. She massages her gushing, pink clit and labia in such a frenzy she nearly ignites; as the dry ice smoke wafts around her delicious ass, she slurps Chapman's cum from her fingertips as if it were nectar of the gods. Million squeezes some mom-juice from her swollen nipples as Silvera tongue bathes her regal sphincter at the altar before he sinks his shrink-wrapped pork roll into her tasty loins.

Chalk up extra points for concise direction, editing and an exotic, middle-Eastern-flavored soundtrack that practically dares your pelvis not to swivel and churn with a dark pagan abandon. The Temple of Poon is an excellent artifact, indeed.