Video Industry News Video Company News Technology Industry News Technology Company News Novelty Industry News Novelty Company News Gay Industry News Gay Company News Legal Industry News All Company News
Released: Dec 01st, 1994
Running Time: 140
Director: John Stagliano
Company: Evil Angel
Cast: Tom Byron, Valentino (I), Krysti Lynn, Steven St. Croix, Anna Matte, London Mystery Girls
Critical Rating: AAAA
Krysti Lynn (on the boxcover) may be the wet dream of the tide, but it's leggy Heather St. Clair who offers a full night's worth of nocturnal emissions judging by the liquid ferocity of her three-way anal blazer with Torn Byron and Steven St. Croix.
In a feature evenly situated between high lights and low lights, particularly a squint-heavy hotel room scene featuring Joey Silvera (Walter Pidgeon had better illumination in a Welsh coal mine in How Green Was My Valley), Heather's d.p. ass-pounding ranks at the top of the list, though Stagliano does his best to make this feature a Hallmark love card to Krysti. The tape begins like one of those placid environmental moments with cascading tropical waterfalls. Thus sets the tone for a progressive Krysti experience of peek-a-boo secluded beach/hotel room/sun deck preening, posturing, and masturbating, leading to a conclusive shot-in-the-ass delivered by Krysti's "dance teacher" Valentino, a guy who could double for a cast extra in Scarface. Krysti's dorsal dossier is enough to supply testament to the quality of this matchup. Situated between these can't-help-but-falling-in-love-with-Krysti book ends, are less emotionally interactive interludes with Anna Malle taking on "strippers" Jay Ashley and Alex Sanders in a relatively unaccomplished Las Vegas-situated threeway; and Joey with a quartet of British mystery challengers.
Like "What's My Line," Joey's partners sign in, but the first half of the romp is better left to a glaucoma specialist to describe since it occurs in a dark room. So, for all we know, the two headless females may or may not have been what Washington Irving had in mind with his Halloween tale. A follow-up'er squares things equitably with the viewer by ushering in two more contestants and a fantabulous bird's eye strip/foot/ass show that will bring your right hand and the lower portion of your anatomy in reasonable commuting distance with one another.
That, along with Heather and Krysti's scenes should give butt lovers reasonable opportunity to sleep, nay perchance to cream.