Review

Remember the first two? How long we’ve waited. Mind you, we had to wait forty-five years before Return to Oz, so we mustn’t complain.

Just like it’s prequels, there’s no real story here. Just a bunch of hot guys (easy on the blondes this time) fucking poolside. And that’s it. Woo hoo. No complaints so far. New faces compliment the old ones, who are doing this for the "hey, I’m still alive!" recognition, I guess. And it works.

Two friends lose their Frisbee over next-door’s wall. They scale the fence and indulge in a bit of pool horseplay before getting totally nude and fucking on their neighbors bright red picnic table. To make matters worse, they even steal his garden hose for use as a makeshift enema pipe. What is the world coming to? And they forget the Frisbee.

There’s a naked gardener (don’t ask) who invites his pals (Foster and Collins) over to generally abuse the homeowners hospitality (whom - plot thickens - used to have orgies all the time and won’t be back for a few weeks) by fucking poolside too. I remember the days when people put chlorine in their pools, now it’s Spanish Fly. Naked Gardener gets fucked royally by them both, and sorry to prolong racial stereotypes - you’ve got to feel sorry for him when Collin’s huge Black Mamba enters the Promised Land!

It would appear that the mysterious tenant doesn’t give a monkeys ass about how crap his staff are, if the four poolboys are anything to go by. Mind you, if I had Matthew Rush in my team I’d spend all my time fucking and sucking too. Sure beats raking up dead leaves. Still, Naked Gardener is impressed.

No one can let a pool go to waste, so N.G. invites even more friends over, including the gorgeous Dragon. He and four close pals spend the remainder of the afternoon doing what gay men do best. Fucking. What, you thought they just sat around and did each other’s hair? Hello?

Unexpectedly, the homeowner arrives early, catching our Famous Five red-handed, red-faced and red-cheeked. Low and behold, the homeowner turns out to be Jim Bentley - star of the original Splash Shots and numerous eighties flicks. Instead of being royally pissed, he whips out old faithful and informs the assembled buttmunchers, "If anyone’s gonna start an orgy round here, it’s gonna be me." Off come the clothes and you’ve got to admit that he still looks great, but no amount of work can ever save "old man hands" so wear gloves next time (do a fisting flick - that way you’ll have an excuse!) because those liverspots made me shudder.

 -- Froufrou A. Gogo