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The guys fuck the hell out of her before one coats her back with cum and the other fills her mouth.JOIN RIGHT NOW and Get Access To a Huge Teen Video Archive!An interesting realization comes with the fact that the acting by cast members fearlessly letting it all hang out is far superior to that of those only going through the motions.One exception being Jennifer Welles, strictly simulating Sapphic splendor with Darby Lloyd Rains two years prior to taking the pornographic plunge in Howard Ziehm's HONEYPIE. She goes straight upstairs, barely acknowledging me, and I hear her crash down onto the bed in the room above me. No secrets here, The guy, you, you say I can stay and finish the film, pours a drink… Yeah, yeah, at almost 19 I’ve been drinking for four years or more already… You, I can feel you next to me, dark, moody, and I think you might be looking at me, but when I peer discreetly out of the corner of my eye, nope, your eyes are staring at the TV screen, not noticing me, now talking. And I push my arse back into the cushion behind me and relax. A buddy leant you it, and then you just wink, all casual, told you to watch it with a girlfriend sometime. And, not meaning to, I chew my bottom lip and pour a swig of cider down.
Pretty permissive as it turned out and Horulu would never look back, putting together a mere handful of fairly ambitious adult projects over the decade that followed.Chief culprit for this hilarity is the unbelievably florid voice-over monologues swamping the half-baked screenplay by Kenneth Schwartz, allegedly adapting a "French novelette" (as per credits) of which not a single trace can be found.Schwartz, best known for producing and co-directing (along with severely testing his patience) Shaun Costello's big budget Fiona ON FIRE and Dracula EXOTICA, had carnal credentials stretching all the way back to bankrolling the idiosyncratic Eduardo Cemano's early '70s fleetingly explicit FONGALULI and THE HEALERS but his writing would have made even Ed Wood blush.It was the night before my nineteenth birthday, and, hell, had I waited long enough. Kids snoring in bed; me, alone watching a film downstairs when the door opens and the guy, hmmm, we’ll call him, hell, we’ll call him ‘you’ and his missus walk in. I’ve got work tomorrow and I should be going but the cider slips down nicely, and you, though not watching get us both another drink, picking up a DVD on the way. Now you aren’t, this I know, the kind of guy to lure your babysitter into watching hardcore porn, because, baby that would be bad, you a married man and all. And you hand me a can, cracking it open as you do so… It’s a bog-standard rom-com, a 90s film I just caught on the TV. And I’m a girl, hell, a woman, aren’t I, and we both smile, laugh, and I take a sip.
Although not a particularly potent filmmaker, in an era dominated by the likes of Gerard Damiano and Chuck Vincent (not to mention the in a class of his own Radley Metzger), he continuously strove to make serious sex films surrounding real or perceived psychological problems, be it the good girl/bad girl dichotomy portrayed by Lesllie Bovee in BLUE ECSTASY IN NEW YORK or Victoria Jackson and John Leslie attempting to avoid the pitfalls of their open marriage in NEVER SLEEP ALONE.