Released: Oct 01st, 1998
Running Time: 84
Director: James Avalon
Company: Cal Vista Video
Distribution Companies: Metro Distributors
Cast: T.T. Boy, Peris Bleu, Dolly Golden, Reka, Julian (II), Sana Fey, Stacy Valentine, Reyna (I), Stephanie Swift, Julian (I), Melisia Italia, Mark Davis, Michael J. Cox
Critical Rating: AAAA
A great couples tape. The female population will tear their clothes off to be examined by Dr. Julian. Male patrons got it even better: so many nurses, so little time.
Thank God the nurse fetish will never die. And the producing entities are savvy enough to pour the above-mentioned female cast into tight Red Cross uniforms that barely cover their asses, the viewer is in for solid heart palpitations.
Mark Davis doesn't know how he got to the hospital. No one will tell him his symptoms. He has surreal b/w flashbacks of himself petting a fish that fell out of a tree. T.T. Boy is in the bed next to him. His only dialogue is "What do you mean?" Straight out of absurdist play, which this is. Sana Fey enters the room with a tray of eyeballs. With her black armband and other leather accessories she brings a little Nazi fetish to Boy's cubicle. Michael J. Cox, another loony patient, wanders in muttering something, and the two are fully served. The scene concludes with some old school tit fucking, and who better to do it with than Miss Fey, with her deep-crevassed San Juan Mountains.
Julian, the tongue pierced doctor, stethoscope in hand, probes one of the nurses in fine style. Our protagonist, Mark Davis, is treated very well, even though no one will tell him why he's hospitalized. You know the routine: Nurse needs a sample (not urine, silly), so Davis is jerked off by the glorious, bursting-at-the-seams Stacy Valentine. After he cums in her mouth, she spits his load into a beaker. Later he ass-fucks the big, ripe Dolly Golden, after soaping her up and shaving her.
In the final scene, Stacy V. escorts an agitated Davis into a room where she and Stephanie Swift can work him over. Nothing in contemporary porn is finer than watching the Swift-girl get fucked. With her tiny body and micro mouth that can barely accommodate a toothpick, she is a sight for sore eyes when pried open. She's also the loudest screamer in the biz and every decibel sincere. Blue ribbons should be handed out for top-of-the-line direction, camera work, editing, lights, and costumes -- it's all there. This is well-made, narrative porn.