With originality being the second most precious commodity in adult movies - the first, naturally, being authentic heat - this ungainly two-fer combo comes as no great surprise. As a novelty item it succeeds.
Apparently, the home office designed WAMBB to appeal to a pair of unrelated customer fetishes. In reality it could alienate both. Only your cash register will eventually tell the truth.
Obviously, the big boob market is (pun intended) larger than the food fetish fanatics. What might the former think, then, when their precious mammalian protuberances are all but hidden under mounds of whipped cream? (At least the condiments hide a bounty of surgical signatures.)
Victual aficionados may harvest the greater bonanza; though, in fact, the performers' genitals are so often covered in mounds of convectional goop that we wonder what's providing the erotic stimulation. More to the point, when gobs of fudge start leaking out of one girl's ass during an anal insertion, even the Pillsbury Dough Boy might lose the rise in his bread stick.