John West has either lost his short-term memory or his hubris far exceeds his talent. It becomes insufferable to hear the performers repeat, ad nauseum, "directed by John West for Anarchy Films" after each friggin' pop shot! Great Zombie Jesus, even Cecil B. DeMille didn't evoke so much self-priase for his overblown nonsense.

Fortunately for West (and his target audience - the closet misogynist) these blowjobs are uniformly watchable. With all the teary-eyed nose pinching, this sort of aggressive windpipe jamming is an acquired taste? One we're not likely to develop, but that guy skulking around your barely-legal section is a likely candidate.

Sindy and Kinzey regurgitate copious amounts of drool; especially when sucking the big one upside down. We preferred more quiescent moments spent with Marquetta and Ruby, both of whom project lovely smiles and would be better served in more upscale productions. Speaking of - check out that "production designer" credit. Can we get paid for tacking up sheets on the wall, too?

Some of the videography is overexposed. One scene is entirely out of focus. (It arrives late in the lineup, so most viewers will already be too busy mopping up their spent loads to care.)

Retailing: Filler for the oral/youth-oriented aisles.