Having watched Max grow from an apartment-based freelancer to a cottage business to a mansion-based industry unto itself - not to mention the increase in the scope of his productions, including European locations - this volume sort of comes full circle.
Once again, the action is literally backed up into a claustrophobic corner of a nondescript room, where Max plays out implausible "innocent little girl" scenarios with decidedly legal-aged performers. (The plastic blackout sheets taped to the window add a real touch of class.)
Unlike the old days, where sphincter-ripping anal action was considered pushing the envelope, Max has graduated to new heights of legal sexual peccadilloes: inverted blowjobs, slapping and choking. (Of course, the girls are all "acting" as they gag up fountains of spittle, eyes watering uncontrollably as their mascara flows like blackened tears.)
Unquestionably, this kind of material has an audience. As free speech advocates we're loath to condemn it, but is it arousing? Is it even sexual? Hard to say. What matters is that scenes like the opener with Lena Ramone, or the ass-to-mouth three-way with Catalina and Madison, work on a visceral level which is kind of beyond lust, if you get our drift. What can you say about an ending in which the girls swap mouthfuls of his cum not once, but three times? Talk about backwash.
The later scene with Summerluv - in which she has a speculum jammed up her privates and a pair of surgical forceps clamping her mouth open into a perpetual, rictus-like grimace - is not only beyond sexual, it's simply beyond the pale. We can only wait and wonder, with some trepidation, what Max will think of next.