Review

I wonder whether, if I went about it politely enough, Studio 2000 would play Santa Claus to yours truly by donating a new laptop to make up for one I short circuited while reviewing their boner machine Driven. I confess: I couldn’t keep my hands off myself during this sizzler, and when you get your sticky mittens on this one, you’ll know where I’m coming from. This one’s a veritable four-alarm inferno of molten dude sex, populated with the most all-around droolingly desirable stable of chiseled, hung, stud-fuck jock-hunks and manly biker dudes I’ve juiced off to in ages.

Plot is minimal but the heat is definitely on, the studs are (mostly) smooth and delicious, and their cocks are mouth- and rump-crammingly big and thick. Quite a few of these hunks are exceptionally horse-hung, too, so size queens take note.

I’ll spare you the blow-by-blow because some things deserve to be discovered without spoiler fanfare, but I’ll recount a few of my favorite moments: An aerobically accomplished hanging rim chew that opens the sexcapades; a smoldering six-man pile-up in the motorcycle bay featuring a throat-fucking, ass-plowing gang of smooth farmboys and furry biker hunks wielding some of the most plump and juicy uncut cocks to thrust and throb across my screen; and a hot ass-ramming featuring the fiery duo of deliciously smooth cover boys Tony Mecelli and Jeff Willcox. Babyfaced stud-hunk Tony exquisitely plows sexy side-burned greaser Jeff while they’re straddling his hog. (Would that make him a "grease two-er" since he is, after all, a biker and not a car nut? Just checking.)

And then there’s a stunning climax, a versatile ass slam featuring two intensely hot men: corn-fed farmboy-hot D.C. Chandler and Latino dreamboat Rafael Carreras, a heretofore top who here surrenders his precious booty for the first time in a U.S. video. Slurpy ass nibbling and fingering and plenty of cocksucking are also in ample evidence, and I should single out Rafael’s notably proficient deep-gag sucking skills on Chandler’s grand, veiny, gushing tool. They really do grow ’em big on a farm. (Even if D.C. wasn’t technically reared in the cornbelt, why fuck with workable fantasy?) And snaps to Jason Harley, an adorable, steely-eyed, nose-ring’d, Abercrombie-type hunk who makes a jaw-dropping (and jaw-cramming) introduction here. Absolute yum!

Okay, so, no, I didn’t really short out my laptop with drool and spunk but, as anyone who’s ever worn jizz-stained denim underneath an ultra-violet light can attest to, the tell-tale stains make public exposure far too awkward.

Smashing camerawork and stellar production values are out-foxed only by this historically hot line-up of dreamy hung cum-gushing punk hunks.

 -- Beef Stroganoff