Review

Holy four-alarm inferno! If Fire Island Cruising 3 doesn’t light a fire in your crotch, you’ve probably already fainted from the heat. Michael Lucas has concocted another gushingly good sex opus, part frisky and animalistic fuck-a-thon, part sweet and sticky romance.

We open on a Fire Island beach. Two gorgeous, smooth, sculpted lovers (Marco and Rick) frolic naked, their thick, heavy dongers flopping all about in the sea breeze. They abscond to a fabulous beach house and engage in a throat-cramming sixty-nine, massaging each other’s large, uncut cocks with their tonsils. They kiss rather passionately, too, a clear indication that these guys are on fucking fire for each other. And they’re versatile, too, so we get to see ’em slide it to each other hard and deep. Firm ass cheeks are spread, puckering pink rosebuds are tongue-slathered, sphincters are stretched apart and moans and groans of sheer ecstasy blend with airy music and the subtle sounds of surf outside.

Combined with the smooth, circling camera shots, director Lucas shows a flair for accentuating the romantic motif without getting the least bit syrupy (no gushing harp music or dwelling close-ups of flickering candles, thank heavens). We already know he’s a wily sex fiend, and he doesn’t hold back with the naughty, sweaty stuff, either.

Next, we eavesdrop on Michael Lucas, holding court at the breakfast table with a few housemates. They’re discussing the differences between “sex” and “love” and debating the applicability of monogamy in individual relationships. Well, if what we just saw between Marco and Rick qualifies as “love”, the ensuing depravity is most definitely feverish "sex."

Enter Christophe and Carlos, their tan bodies hard and silky smooth. Except for their ass cracks, that is, which are appropriately fuzzy. At the count of sixty-nine, each hunk has a cramming throat full of the other’s big throbbing dick. Then Christophe plunges his thick hooded tool into Carlos’ greedy hole. Soon, Christophe reaches for a hilted dildo, and as he’s squeezing the rubber dick into Carlos’ already crowded mangina, I couldn’t help noticing how much Carlos resembles singer Robbie Williams - in the eyes, at least. Needless to say, things get wet and sticky, and Carlos receives a pearly facial, which shooter Christophe slurps back up. Afterwards, they engage in a brief water sports spritz out back in the patio shower.

Next, lovers Marco and Rick try their first orgy experience (well, technically it’s a four-way; in my book, only a more-way begins to qualify as an accredited "orgy"). The other two hotties are buff Afro-hunk Chaz (credited at the film's end as Nigel Joseph) who dips his large chocolate wick deep into Rick’s ass, and tight, tan Latino sexpot Diego - who opens his flexing o-ring for Marco’s thick prick. Diego sports a taint piercing, and when his 8-pack abs are flexed, the rock-hard musculature squeezing his veins against the underside of his tight skin provides a freakish image of a contoured road map.

(Note to Diego: methinks a few percentage points of body fat couldn’t possibly make you any less sexy. Eat a Twinkie once in a while - and I’m not talking about a prissy bitch boy.)

Anyways, the four-way pumps on, with Chaz plowing Rick next to Marco drilling Diego. Both bottoms get a thick white load of cream slammed out of them, which is duly smeared up and fed back to them. Afterwards, we’re out on the pool deck for a round of beer-bottle enemas and frothy, ass-spouted Heineken showers.

All this orgiastic heat and Darth Lucas hasn’t even unzipped yet. He’s up next, in a mild-to-wild session that begins as Michael’s boyfriend (Trent) deep-gags on Lucas’ rigid tower of uncut beef. Lucas forcibly dominates over the slurping boy toy, pushing Trent’s sucking head down onto his foreskin’d bone but, to give credit where credit is due, Trent needs no further coercion when it comes to greedily devouring Lucas’ luscious apparatus. Trent also heartily eats out Michael’s pink man pussy, which swells and puckers like something out of Alien or Naked Lunch. Michael self-fingers his own hole, then makes Trent sniff it and lick it clean. His appetite whetted, Trent proceeds to shrimp Lucas’ toes. Then docks his tongue with Lucas’ tight foreskin. Yum.

Then Michael grabs a certain familiar handled dildo and plunges Trent’s heinie with it, loosening his bottom enough so that his pried orifice can better accommodate the imminent intrusion of Lucas’ lunging shaft. While exquisitely plowing Trent’s beautiful bubble butt, Lucas rowdily smacks his cheeks in the standard “fuck me/spank me like a whore” ritual. Keep your eyes peeled for a deliciously salty climax, as Trent treats himself to a tasty slurp of Michael’s freshly gushed spunk, licked right off his hard abs. This is after the indelible image of Trent trying to catch Michael’s arcing spurt in his open mouth. For sloppy seconds, Trent has a smear of his own creamy effusion.

We swish-pan over to the patio door and - yowzers! - there’s a throbbing line-up of the six stacked Adonises we’ve already met, each one of ’em beating their substantial meat at the sight of Trent and Michael’s gooey climax. Alas, despite the group photo on the box of these guys sucking each other en masse on the pool deck, there’s no such scene in this movie. Perhaps this sequence will surface in Fire Island Cruising 4. (Note to viewer: Stay tuned, as there’s a tantalizing preview of Part 4 after the show.)

Cut to another brief water sports break involving Michael’s leaking dick and Trent’s drenched face. There’s some more plot exposition next, as lovers Marco and Rick break up over their different take on monogamy. Cut to a pond-side pick-up, as meditating Marco is approached by tattoo’d and nipple-pierced Tom International. In no time at all, Marco is fucking Tom’s face, there’s some mild shrimping and then they chew on each other’s clenching bungholes. They take turns fucking each other, too, and after a cum-bursting finale, Marco says he’s falling in love. Cue sunset and gentle sounds of surf as they walk hand in hand into bliss.

So, like, yeah, this one’s a total keeper, stylishly filmed, crisply edited, flaming with combustible sex between sizzling muscle hunks and erupting with hot rivers of thick man cream. (Note to Michael Lucas: Nice rebound from some of the shadier aspects of Fire Island Cruising 2. Now pardon me whilst I go whack off. Again.) Blazing Boners! The only way these stud-fucks could possibly be any fierier is if they spurted hot sauce. (Ouch.)

 -- Beef Stroganoff