Ahead of its time and still potently vile six years later, this review can only scratch the cum-drenched surface. "John Thompson" means one thing to the initiated: the next next-level in fetishistic gangbang/sport-fucking. A free-for-all orgy in an abandoned warehouse turns into the battle of bodily fluids.

Thompson targets and nails his audience (raincoaters) by consistently reducing his stable of proxy bimbos to prison-grade meatloaf. However, there's not a passive chick (or a dry face) in the house. Those steely glares of determination in obtaining the next load of nut nectar seem sincere. After the first scene, a hysterical, almost nihilistic depravity begins to permeate.

Pre-nom the second sprawl for Best Sex Scene in a Foreign-Shot Production.