Review

The Bombardier
Hot military homos join the mile-high club in this plot-heavy aviator-themed slam-fest. Before the flick begins, a note from director Jett Blakk: "To fully appreciate the storyline of The Bombardier, it is recommended you view the film without fast-forwarding." Duh!

Still, with an intricate plot that hinges on past-life regression, closeted WWII aviators and a little-known third atomic bomb dubbed "Sissy Boy", you’ll be glad you didn’t skip past all the superfluous baloney and shuttle directly to the good stuff. Because, hey, plot matters.

So, like, anyways, French-Canadian “Ted” (Breck Stewart) is in therapy because he keeps having these awful nightmares of atomic bombs. With the help of his shrink, he’s transported back to a past life, when he was a bombardier on a secret mission to drop the little-known third nuke on Japan in 1945. You must also realize Ted’s madly in love with his “straight” co-pilot “Anthony” (the devilicious, scruffilicious Jason Ridge), but he couldn’t possibly ever express his affection. Or could he?

As modern-day Ted researches declassified government documents in a library, two hot+horny man fucks (Nick Capra and Paul Johnson) eye each other through the bookstacks. Soon they’re groping the ample bulges in each other’s denims and eventually they pleasure each other right there in the aisle, first with mutual deep cock-sucking and then with a thrusty slam dance (Nick as power top, Paul as moaning bottom).

“Ted” is hypnotized back to 1945, where he wakes up in a whorehouse waiting room which, oddly enough, looks just like the modern-day shrink’s office. Two uniformed soldiers enter (Brett Collins, Andrew Addams), both flamingly “straight” (*cough*) but both apparently horny enough to agree to service each other whilst waiting for the resident poon tang. They’re supposed to be hetero, but these guys take to oral and anal buggery as instinctively as would a convict in the stir.

“Ted” and “Anthony” are spending quality time together chatting and bonding in a parked jeep when, suddenly, two mechanics (scruffy stud Parker Williams and baby-smooth jock hunk Braeden Casey) enter the motor pool. Captain Parker orders subordinate hottie Braeden to his knees for some dutiful knob shining, then the ranking officer chows down on the private’s privates, chews his pink hole and then plows it deep while in the jeep. Don’t miss the sight of Braeden pumping out - and lapping up - a thick creamwad.

Finally we get to the fateful bombing run, where fawning “Ted” and confused “Anthony” consummate their mid-flight love and lust for each other by choking on each other’s veiny throttles and then by plowing each other while straddled over the “Sissy Boy” A-bomb, eventually splattering its fuselage with their spewed spunk.

To be fair, the cockpit get-up is surprisingly spiffy, as are the costumes throughout, and I definitely got a good-natured kick out of the gloriously cheesy vintage newsreel footage of WWII bombers in flight. But the flimsy bomb bay interior is a joke, and a poorly timed one at that, seeing as it’s the backdrop for the rousing climax and all. Amateurish lighting and videography are a spotty nuisance, too.

But, OMFG, these muscled militaristic dreamboats are to die for! And to fly for, as in flight of a soaring erection sure to hit the sky. In a flick populated with such fine thoroughbred hunks, I must gush superlatively over scruffy faced, fuck-me eye’d Jason Ridge, who’s the tastiest, juiciest and absolute dreamiest steed here! [Cue excited horse’s neighing.]

 -- Beef Stroganoff

Ryker's Money Shot
From the press notes: "Superhung superstar Ken Ryker knows what you guys want to see. Now you can see him as never before in Ryker's Money Shot. Packed with great skin on skin action, get this movie, get the shot, and get your $$$'s worth."