Review

You ever had one of those experiences where you watch a porno with a guy who really likes what’s on screen and you hate it but keep watching in the hope that it’ll grow on you, eventually pretending to like it just to get off with the guy? And then you find the sex is so crap you’d have been better off staying at home and sitting on your finger?

You ever had your jaws wired together in an attempt to lose weight then spend all night hunched over a Cuisinart trying to liquidate chocolate cake and barbeque chicken pizza? No? Me neither. Just curious. I like to get to know my readers.

And I’d like to state for the record that I love bears. Bears are yummy. Bears are my friends. But some of the guys here are a tad too scary for me and put me in danger of changing my tastes and only going for Thai Ladyboys from now on. At least you know what you’re getting from those guys.

The first scene, “Bear Garage Fantasy”, is great. Starting with Scott, naked, jerking off on his sofa as he fantasizes Braddock getting hot swallowing Woodhill’s wood hill, doing a great job of getting it wet and sticky. Not to be outdone Woodhill drops to his knees for a taste of Braddock’s beefstick and the two strip, revealing great hairy bodies. Braddock gives up his hairy, beary butt as he receives Woodhill’s Rear Admiral Salute, pumping the life out of poor Braddock. Not that anyone’s complaining. Don’t worry: Woodhill pumps enough liquid protein over Braddock’s face to bring whole armies back from the dead.

The fantasy over, Scott gets a delivery from his partner - Braddock again! Awww. As Gabrielle sung, “dreams can come true!” The goateed guzzlers take turns fucking each other’s faces till bright red, before Braddock gives up his bear honey all the way down Scott’s eager throat. When Scott releases his own love cannon payload Braddock is down there licking the creamy goodness off his boyfriend’s matted hairy chest.

Our next fantasy involves skinhead bears and stars Stack, teamed up here with inked-to-death newcomer Murphy, who went on to scare the holy crap out of me in Suck Club and Blue Collar. We start as the tattooed pierced hairy behemoth jerks off on a sofa, fingering his suedehead browneye. Dear God - he sniffs his fingers afterwards. Delicate bouquet?

He fantasizes about meeting Fred Perry-wearing bovver-boy Stack, and a hot aggressive suck session ensues. Dissolving to the bedroom way too tidy to be a skinhead’s pit (unless he’s only a weekend skinhead) Murphy is on his hands and knees tongue fucking Stack before licking the chain linking his Prince Albert to his mouth. That hole well and truly lip-smackingly dripping with anticipation, Murphy delivers on his promise by pounding his partner’s walls into new shapes, whilst his verbal screams blue murder. The bear lotion eventually spurts the wallpaper a new shade of crème. Big guys, big boots, big fun!

Last up there’s Dirk and Kyle Ross doing a bear/janitor fantasy that made me feel slightly queasy and in desperate need of a valium. I’m not saying Ross is an acquired taste but…there’s no way I can finish this sentence off politely - this guy is big. I’m not prejudiced. Let’s move on and forget my tacky bitchiness. Anorexic cow that I am.

It’s a typical day at the office. Bored and horny Dirk tries it on with the janitor Ross and the two skedaddle to the bathroom where Dirk sucks the janitor’s impressive wang under the cubicle wall. Why? There’s nobody else in the office for goodness sake! Eventually they take my advice and share a cubicle. They head to the freight elevator for a while and get naked - Dirk on his knees getting to grips with that immense member, but not getting any in return. Heading off to a private office in the Factory studio, Dirk’s ring gets a quick lubing up in preparation for the buttfuck he’s about to receive (standing up - you wouldn’t want this guy lying on top of you). He produces two loads of salami sauce that Dirk laps dry.