Review

Powerfist
Ever seen that movie Society, about shape-shifting monsters masquerading as the Beverley Hills elite? The dénouement has the hero wrestling with the bad guy, sticking his hand up his jacksie and pulling him inside out. The filmmakers here obviously took videos like this as their inspiration. This is Handball Marathon for the twenty-first century.

The first in a trilogy, Powerfist rejoices in its rectum stretching and other filthy downright ungodliness that the extreme amongst you will be applauding. The lightweights amongst you may want to watch this with a cushion over your eye. This isn’t one for the squeamish. Chris Ward (who shot this before the creation of the less-extreme Raging Stallion) directs his dirty birdies in a story you won't soon forget. Trim your nails, guys, we’re going in!

In a nice San Francisco home (classy wallpaper, classy bedsheets, classy buttplugs) Winston has misplaced a rather large dildo. Wonder where it could be? As if by the sort of magic David Copperfield would balk at, he produces the sixteen inch wonder from inside boyfriend Wright’s ass. Sums up exactly what you’re gonna be seeing in the next seventy minutes really. The lights are on the fritz and the electrician has been called. A quick bit of fisting (OK, ten minutes worth) and the sheets are soaked with elbow grease. Never mind the electrician, call the dry cleaners.

Anyway, along comes Kurtis, the electrician, wandering straight into the bedroom. It’s Frisco; no-one bats an eyelid. Winston hands him a huge strap on dildo to fuck our accommodating homo homeowner. He gets on the cellphone and calls up co-workers Ward and Sylvano to help out.

When they arrive Ward stumbles upon Evrett. The sight of him sweeping leaves inflames the passions - hey, some people are just kinky. After some horseplay we’re introduced to a bizarre spectacle which I feel will be commonplace in all these movies. Ward has created some ingenious sex toys by sticking buttplugs on the end of his powertools. Everett gets to grips with them, especially the hammer drill with the huge black dildo on the end. After exploring Ward’s hole with them, he offers himself to be fisted by our hairy redheaded hunk. The ultrasweet Evrett is punch-fucked on the kitchen table, his dick remaining rock hard throughout as we see our first rectal prolapse - which is given tons of love and affection. (You’re not seriously gonna lick it are you, Ward?)

Meanwhile the yummy tall dark and sexy Sylvano, who looks far too conservative to be doing anything like this, is busy on the stairs with Galen. Sylvano, dressed in flattering black jock gives a two-handed approach to his antics. (The other day I wrote a review wondering if fisting was in danger of becoming the new vanilla. Oh god, was I wrong.) And the gorgeous Sylvano obviously trained with a master. Fun verbal too.

Eventually everyone ends up in the master bedroom, the three electricians and Winston frenziedly fucking, sucking and fisting their way through the roommates. The sight of Sylvano up to his elbow in Evrett will keep me warm on many cold winter nights to come. How about a private show guys? I’ll buy the cosmopolitans!

Powerfist is a great, great fisting video for those who like a change from the usual badly lit leather style. All the guys are well built, hairy and older - and all 100% committed to safe sex! Highly recommended. Can’t wait to see the other two!

 -- Froufrou A. Gogo

Powerhole
Powerhole is the second part of The Powerfist Trilogy trilogy. Remember the first one? It was fabulous! They did things I didn’t think I wanted to see, but thank god I did! I also never realized that a prolapsing arsehole bursts open exactly the same way as the Bajoran wormhole did in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.

If you haven’t seen the first, shame on you, you are crap sex pigs and no friend of mine. If you did, you’ll be aware that the series tells of a San Francisco based electrical firm who spend their days working in the type of holes that aren’t surrounded by plasterboard. (And if you get the DVD there’s a fabulous video effect on the main menu that looks like a sphincter beckoning you inside. You gotta see it!)

We start, as most days probably do in this office, with Scott deepthroating his boss, Kurtis. It’s rather misty, which means either way too much dry ice or all the crew are nervously chain-smoking. Filthy oral, but you’ll be wanting something a little heavier. There’s a fuck that looks way too much like barebacking for comfort (these films are 100% safe) and it took me ages to actually see the condom. (Good lighting trick there guys!) Anyway, our boss is still horny and uses both hands on Scott’s willing hole. So far, so vanilla.

Leave it to Black and Spike (not the GayVN-winning dwarf – this is a filthy fat guy who could bitchslap the most dominant guy into submission) to get naughty. Spike’s apparently a bottom, but to begin with he’s helping Black with an elementary school fist-goes-in-fist-comes-out-dick-goes-in-dick-comes-out fisting fuckathon. It gets heavier; building to Spike using both hands at once and Black thinking all his Christmases have come at once.

Sylvano gets a crack at Spikes bumhole next, as he gets a chance to show off his legendary capacious ass. Sylvano begins by literally punching his way inside. Spike proudly lets the world see his insides and Sylvano nearly loses his arm in the process. This amazing and extreme scene has to be seen to be believed. Nobody at work thought I was telling the truth. The wussies all ran away hissing, "eww, dirty."

Hunky studs Kurtis and Sylvano battle over who’s top dog. Soon Sylvano is on his knees deep-throating his boss like a good and faithful servant. He does a great job, and it always makes me hot to see a top guy finally get bottomed. Kurtis blows his load all over his hunky underling’s muscular back. But isn’t this video supposed to be about fisting?

Before you can say, "can’t wait to see what’s next" the fucking credits roll! What, am I being robbed? Ahh – wait – there’s an epilogue with Spanner being fisted. But this lasts only a few minutes before the piece ends for good. A taste of what’s to come?

I’m hoping Powersurge, the finale, can redress the balance because this is a tad disappointing compared to Powerfist. Still, Powerhole is certainly a decent fisting flick.

 -- Froufrou A. Gogo

Powersurge
Fisting videos. They’re like buses. You wait all day then five come at once. This is the closing part of The Powerfist Trilogy. (It began with Powerfist and continued with Powerhole.) If you are familiar with them, you’ll be drooling into your jockstrap when you hear it’s finally available in the form of a "Special Edit" - in other words more material. If you are unfamiliar, you’ll be happy to note it’s not too late to jump aboard the Good Ship and enjoy the sight of the usual hairy scary guys doing unspeakably un-Christian things to each other’s rectums, in all manner of unspeakably unfeasible ways.

The first two titles dealt with the average working week of the "San Francisco Power Company." Monday to Friday they fucked like bunnies – both their customers and each other! Part three shows us how they spend their weekends, where - you guessed it - they fuck like bunnies, too. Don’t these guys ever take time out to go grocery shopping?

The trilogy started off fabulous then seemed to lose steam. Rather, it seems like a series of sequences (albeit extremely hot raunchy piggiest-of-all-pigsex sequences) tacked together, only tenuously connected to the first two. Who amongst us can forget the Michael Myers-less Halloween III: Season of the Witch? Imagine the same fuss being made in this film, because the tall, dark and pervy Frank Sylvano is nowhere to be seen.

Let’s dive straight in past that terrible rock music score that hardly seems appropriate in the circumstances. (But what sort of music should accompany fisting? Light Operetta?) Open on company foreman Kurtis enjoying a Friday night fist session with sling-bound and bearded Lawrence and sexy Vaccaro. Kurtis is already fisting the groaning-for-glory Lawrence before Vaccaro has a go, causing the sling monkey not only to rosebud spectacularly, but wet himself at the same time. The camera refuses to shy away from it all. I have no idea why (excuse the pun) Lawrence seems so pissed - it’s not every day someone gets his inner-walls scraped by someone of Vaccaro’s caliber! Multiple rosebud close-ups intercut with more punch-fucking and this scene (that definitely isn’t for the squeamish) draws to a close.

Saturday afternoon sees Black (Powerhole) being abused by knife-wielding Mancuso, who looks hot but acts one sandwich short of a picnic a little too well. I’m thinking the camera crew were equipped with stun-guns just in case he lost himself in the part and became a totally unhinged psycho. Lawrence is there, antagonistic too, probably due to the previous night’s unfortunate yellow turn of events. Not that Black isn’t getting off on all of this though, if his massive erection is anything to go by!

Heavy-duty rough-sex and filthy verbal are the order of the day as Black is painfully deepthroated by Lawrence before Black’s hole is lubed up and pounded by Lawrence’s fists. Out comes the Miller Lite and Mancuso spits it over both of them, producing enough to drown the twosome in amber nectar! And all from one bottle. Black has remained granite-hard throughout, and his hole is finished off by the tattooed biker pig (whom no doubt scares the neighborhood children if he ventures out in daytime).

Saturday night finds Anderson and Erickson having a quiet night in. (Well, as quiet a night as possible that is, when your box is being roughly banged apart by a massive double-edged dildo.) I’d like to point out that neither appeared in the two prequels, but the sight of hairy boy-next-door (if you live in West Hollywood that is) Anderson taking ever increasing-in-girth dildos by a roaring open fire will make you forget all about plot holes.

This is a great scene and the young nympho is soon riding older Erickson’s clenched fist for all it’s worth, in a scene that sees the duo pretty quickly drenched in sex-sweat. And when Erickson seems to begin to lose his energy, Anderson eats out his hole and sucks him off, giving us the first cumshot of the movie - fifty minutes into it. But Hell, it’s so worth it! Wish I could have sex like these two. If I was that energetic my last boyfriend might not have dumped me, leaving me to scrape out a meager living by reviewing porn and caring for our fifteen children. Day and night they scream. Oh, why won’t they stop? Sorry, where was I... Oh yes...

Sunday morning is dedicated to God and Tina comedowns, so we skip straight on to Sunday evening, where co-workers Black and Kurtis are entertaining Vaccaro in the sling-room we saw earlier. I’m guessing Vacarro had such a good time he stayed the weekend. Black is in the sling, his Saturday-afternoon-ruptured hole getting a good wham-bamming from Kurtis, who cannot control his orgasm, shooting his load into a condom that he then proceeds to ooze out over Black’s hot crotch. Totally turned on, Black yells “Who’s next?” And it’s Vaccaro, obviously. He can’t wait to get his hand up the puppet-on-a-sling, and looks fucking edible as he does so. He gets totally into the part, getting totally into Black whose sextalk becomes nothing more than bestial grunts. A quick fuck has Black screaming his release, and Vaccaro quickly delivers his own load, grinning like a madman due to the whole experience, or maybe because this time he didn’t get drenched in anyone’s accidental piss. Who can say? Who knows the inner workings of a sex-pig’s mind?

And so, we draw the curtain on Powersurge and The Powerfist Trilogy trilogy. Chris Ward has honed his talents on other projects since, and even though this isn’t top-notch material, time and time again he’s proved that even his poorest offerings are miles above many other directors working in the same field.

The fact that this is very raw is an added bonus though, and it would stand well as an independent title. It’s just a shame that it’s connected itself to the other two, bringing on unfair comparisons that drag an otherwise accomplished fist-flick down a bit. But only Coppola could make Godfather III, if you catch my drift.

 -- Froufrou A. Gogo