Red Light District

Rating: TWO & A HALF "A Roost Of Cocks, A Flight Of Swallows, And A Pride Of" BUSTED NUTS

"FIVE SCENES FIFTY LOADS," claims the cover. This is too close to reality for my tastes. Not that I'm surrounded by sword-swallowing porn sluts, but the ratio is like every time I go out. Change of locale to reduce the sausage quotient, and the quality of chick goes way down. Try to travel in circles with finer females, and the competition steps up like Mona Lisa's on the auction block. Go to yoga, aerobics, or Lilith fair, and you're just gay, so give up already.

HARMONY ROSE JOINING TWO MORE MEN IN HOLY FAGIMONY

But I try to enjoy this movie for the wantonness of the wenches when presented with a plentiful fountain of coconut juice. And I succeed, since they suck seed. Enthusiastic head is the best way to get eye contact out of me. My fullest attention is paid when the little G is between teeth. Little -- sure, I admit -- but this flick has such a varied cast of cock in it, I feel average, and yet not gay from having seen so many male members. I try to pretend it's my own, to identify with the protagonist prick.

This cum-bubble is burst by the double vag that does anything but double HARMONY ROSE's pleasure. She does double oral, too, since the Rimmer twins (my term for these two Red Light regulars -- when I see them, I know what's coming, and it ain't nothing from my body) love being joined at the dick in flick after flick.

The prong parade soldiers on, feeding the thirsty hoes like they're hatchlings in the nest. One papa bird is unnaturally bent downward to facilitate the task, owned by a shmuck who never bothered to read the penis pump recall notice he got in the mail.

This movie is for the cock-starved. Put the disk in a laptop computer, with the screen facing away from you, toward one of those beer goggle barflies that're
left over at closing time. Wear the paper bag on your own head, and hope that she takes a hint and isn't around come morning. -- JIMMY THE G

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