Review

It’s a little known fact that I’m the English equivalent of red-neck poor white trash. Yes, we exist. The English aren’t all Hugh Grants or chirpy “cor blimey, guvnor” cockneys.

Commonly, ma’ kinfolk English hillbilly brethren take our vacations in Spain, filling quaint little Mediterranean streets with the roar of the Soccer Hooligan “You wot? You-wot-you-wot-you-wot?” before buying overpriced cuddly donkeys and collapsing into Sangria induced pools of union jack colored vomit. We used to have an Empire, you know.

Needless to say, I never got to live out any of my Spanish Fantasies. My memories are always soured by the flight home as fifteen bright red overweight factory girls drunkenly sobbed into each others arms, “Miguel. I love that man. I love him,” before landing back in the UK and making an appointment with the nearest abortion clinic.

But I digress. The fabulous Ikarus Entertainment have gathered six gorgeous guys to perform for us. We start with the obligatory Travel Channel tourist shots before the credits roll and you’ll recognize some of the faces - especially Dvorak who appears at the start of each Ikarus production in the safe sex message, muttering “no sex without condom” in broken English. He’s joined by five other lovelies: smooth, tanned, buffed and foreskinned.

Get past the bad “Y Viva Espania!” music that’s too jolly for it’s own good and settle down to see lovely Costa Blanca (known in lower class English parlance as “Costa Packet”) and it’s fabulous fauna and flora. Like you care. You just want the filth. Luckily the castanet-driven folk music subsides as our story begins with a confusing voice-over. The Narrator tells us that he and “six other guys from Prague” received strange invitations to come to the villa. Turns out ‘”Jerry missed the plane”. D’oh! And seven became six. Don’t worry, it all makes sense if you see the companion piece: Images of Ikarus.

Naturally over-excited (well, if all you’ve ever seen are Eastern European tractor factories you’d get a little hyper over a swimming pool, too) they splash about before pairing off and getting a little better acquainted. Something in the water? Each pair french-kiss then sucks each other’s hot cocks before one group split, each joining another pairing. Maybe they didn’t like each other’s cabbage-scented cologne.

Cerny swallows Dvorak and uncomfortable looking Cross’s meat, whilst Kramer is taken care of by Halik who works his cock as blonde Svarc chews his nipples. Svarc is definitely talented as he sucks both cocks at once, as Cross proves “anything you can do…” with Dvorak and Cerny, who’s way too excited and takes Cross there and then. They form a sexy spitroast as Dvorak keeps his mouth busy with his uncut baloney pony. The two tops trade places and Cerny reveals a very impressive try of being able to lick his own nipples. Both cover Cross’s back with an impressive amount of dick-spew. Across the pool Kramer (who is still gorgeous - even with that hairdo) fucks Halik as Svarc jerks off over them.

Dvorak (the narrator) takes a trip down to the rocky beach to watch the sunrise, followed by Svarc and Kramer. I’m guessing it’s not as mild as it looks because they have goosebumps and Kramers’ hair seems to be blown about by force ten gales. The three share a rock bound encounter as the trio kiss, suck, and fuck. Dvorak taking Svarc up him as Kramer sucks his cock in a very hot sequence. The three jerk off as the sun rises, illuminating their great bodies. Fabulous way to start a day. And I’m totally in love with Dvorak and Kramer, both of whom shoot loads. Just get past the annoying music. Who the fuck actually likes Panpipes?

That night Kramer, Svarc, Cross and Halik play strip poker. Don’t ask me how but it suddenly dissolves to Kramer forcing a huge dildo up a groaning Halik’s starfish. High stakes, this poker games seems to have. Halik’s hole dilated, the pair decide to both ride a double-ended dildo in a great noisy, sweaty sequence.

We suddenly go back to the strip poker table, only to dissolve to another fantasy sequence as naked Svarc does push-ups whilst leather jock-strapped Cross walks around him brandishing a cat o’ nine tails. Hmmm, and they all looked so vanilla. Svarc receives a few light slaps before he’s face fucked by his older Master.

Back to the card table before again entering Perv-o-vision with Halik fingering Kramer’s lubed ass, jerking him off over the sofa until his sex-pee trickles it’s way down the vinyl. Then Cross is handcuffed and nipple clamped as Svarc dribbles hot wax all over him. I wondered how Cross got those unfortunate scars. Now I know. And they all seemed like such quiet chaps.

That night Halik awakens a sleeping Dvorak with a kiss and the two share an amazing scene where they merrily demonstrate their cocksucking skills. Dvorak then bottoms for his partner before they flip and Halik spreads his legs wide to take Dvorak’s Polish sausage. Dvorak finally shoots all over his six-pack as Halik covers his chest with Prague spunk.

Turns out Cerny is a bit of a light-fingered shit, helping himself to the other’s money. Halik and Cross track him down and punish him by taking him to a secluded spot, tying him up and stripping him. Now, a couple of points. First - if anyone stole off of me they wouldn’t have a bone unbroken after I’d got my hands on them, and secondly - if I stole money I’d be on the first plane out of town ready to start a new life before anyone realized it was missing. See you in Rio! Anyway - Cerny (tying not to laugh) gets punished by having water thrown over him before Halik sucks his dick (some punishment - I’ve learned my lesson, Your Honor!) and spitroasted in a great al fresco scene, Cross working that hole whilst Cerny chokes on Halik’s fat uncut wang.

You might want to stop watching this right there and then because you don’t want to see the last minute. You really don’t. A poolside party where Svarc dances badly (it’s either St. Vitus dance kicking in or he’s being possessed by un-rhythmic demons) to Teletubbies style mambo music, leading the others in a display of movement usually performed only by fat straight drunken white men in the Superbowl crowd. My toes curled so much I couldn’t walk for three days and it sucked so much I’m deducting a full point from what would have been a four-star wonder. Jesus, I’m a harsh cow, but some crimes must go punished to teach everyone a lesson. Oh, and the location manager was Jack Daniels. Guess they’d knocked back a few bottles before they came up with the idea for the ending.