Review

Director Roberta Findlay a piece of New York grindhouse history herself turns out some amazing pieces of sleaze with her husband Michael (The Flesh Trilogy, Snuff). She continued the hit parade after his death. Anyone but my Husband is a fabulous example of that beyond-vanilla time of love and lust on celluloid.

CJ Laing plays Nora, a disillusioned young housewife. Hubby R. Bolla is a jackass. The film kicks of with him banging one of his 16 year-old students. It’s hot stuff to be sure, but he’s got to split when mommy comes knocking on the door. The teenage tart doesn’t seem to care as she licks her lolli and swigs booze. Meanwhile, CJ is at home cooking a chicken capon in nothing more than an apron. Hubby comes home only to flop down on the bed, yell at her for bothering him and pass out. What’s a sweet girl to do?

Well, if you’re CJ Laing, you might take the bottle of champagne with you to the bathroom. Nothing does a body good like some of the bubbly poured over pussy hair while fingering the clit. At least it did this body good! Masturbating is almost enough, but that longneck bottle sure looks good to CJ. So she fucks herself deeply with said bottle, perched on the sink! Deliciously depraved, this lass is obviously desperate. Thank you Roberta!

A crackpot psychiatrist tells CJ she must have an affair. Fortunately, her good gal pal Bree Anthony is all for it, looking for some extra curriculars herself. They hit up an art gallery where the talent takes a liking to CJ’s sweet and soft demeanor. Turns out he’s into heavy shit, chaining her up and whipping her silly with a serious bullwhip. Once she’d reached the desired level of terror and panic, he takes her down to make some love. CJ digs the dick, but flees after the fact.

Hubby senses a change in his lovely wife, but is about to leave town ‘on business’. Next on the treasure hunt is poetry-loving Eric Edwards. He spouts off about all his favorite authors before delivering the goods between Miss Laing deliciously sweet white thighs. The action is hot, but Edwards professes his undying love for her afterward with a mouthful of chicken, proposing they tie the knot that afternoon! Again she flees!

Bree and CJ hit up a local fortune teller who is in league with Tony Perez. Mr. Perez has a package at least as big as John Holmes’ and a little more meat on his bones. Bree takes the stud up to a waterbed to try him out while the gypsy takes CJ to the hot tub. This is a hot scene, cutting back and forth between CJ and Bree’s respective activities. Bree can barely fit Tony’s tool in her mouth, but it fits all the way up inside her hungry hoo-hoo. Similarly, the fortune teller fits her entire fist into CJ’s pussy! That is, after she thoroughly eats it out.

On his business trip, Mr. Bolla hangs with a drunken floozy that he keeps calling by his wife’s name. They fully explore the pleasures of oral sex, Bolla spreading those soft butt cheeks to eat clit. After a quick stab at sex, Bolla returns home, only to get a taste of his own medicine.

Is this a message picture? I think so. The message is that filthy smut like this does a body good! Thanks again, Roberta!

 -- Wet Cravin