Miko seems greedy for something other than the paycheck attached to these spurting cocks. Like the neophyte Annabel Chong, she pins her lust on an idealized form of self-inflicted degradation that, alas, never completely materializes. She has to make do with what her posse can mete out. But it's like riding an untamed mustang and most of the boys seem a bit spooked by her mysteriously voracious expression.

Six cocks revolve around her moist essence in a ritual of cosmic geometry, plugging her whirling antipodes in an ever-expanding d.p. spiral. With these angles set in motion, Miko's chaotic matrix drives the engines of the stars, striving to create the ultimate alchemical reaction of seven as one. In the end, however, she remains a dark lump of material. While her own substance lies unopened, the fruit of her followers is produced three-fold.