Review

MAMA MIA!
Teeming with eleven gorgeous Italian muscle-studs, each with luscious uncut meat and all shooting gushing rivers of steamy man-juice that spew as thick and plentiful as lava, the hot-hot-hot Italian Style will have you panting "That’s Italian!" over and over again!

Filmed in Italy, this sun-kissed fuck-fest boasts a fetching production design, sumptuous photography, wistful music and, most importantly, a droolingly delicious cast of lean, muscular native hunks who, inspired by the varied Italian scenery, engage in their favorite pastimes: sucking and fucking and throbbing and gushing.

Director Lucas Kazan ditches the restraints of an actual plot and, with the influence of executive producer Kristen Bjorn (this is their first collaboration), delivers a sizzling sexual smorgasbord of stunning Adonises who get it on in four locations: the glorious Italian countryside; in a private garden by a pool; in the bustling city and even in a real 17th-century Italian villa.

The first vignette, "The Palace," opens as lovely Victor Racek is docking his tongue with scruffy beau Daniele Barbareschi’s stretched foreskin. They quickly proceed to give each other a stiff breakfast. This is interspliced with a lush dream sequence in which houseboy Victor is ordered by Master Pietro Cattani to whip out his impressive piece (their idle Italian banter is conveniently subtitled). Victor dutifully complies and feeds the master his enormous cock, who deep-throats it like a champ. Victor eventually squirts a thick load while the master slides his lordly lips along the pulsating shaft (the master gets a tongue splashing of Victor’s creamy load, too, which he seems to savor completely).

But the master is not yet appeased: he orders houseboy to fuck him. While Victor pounds obediently into the master’s hole, we keep cutting back to the real world, where Victor is being pounded by Daniele. The scene climaxes with a jetting stream of spurted cream, including Victor’s own three (yes, three) ample come shots, each of which will leave you gasping for air. The elegant setting of the 17th century villa adds a lot of class to this sequence, though Pietro should learn how to be less obvious about glancing off-camera.

Next we move to "The Pool," and find three thong’d hotties playing grab-ass while a fourth gawks from the trees. The lovely pastoral music plays wistfully while longhaired lovely Roberto Ruggiero, blonde Michelangelo Risi (he must be northern Italian) and hunky Tony Colombo taste each other’s impressive wangs among the Corinthian columns. (Or are they Ionic columns? I never can tell.) Anyway, as topless wanderer Flavio Rossini lurks from the brush, fondling himself (he soon joins in), the boys’ bodies glisten in the bright Italian sun as they shove their plump, veiny flesh columns into each other’s moist orifices. The sucking begets fucking, and the scene culminates in another creamy climax that will have you reaching for the already-sticky rewind button, particularly to catch a replay of Flavio’s and Tony’s downright juicy double squirt.

In "The Country," three beauties on a field trip discover it’s just not a picnic without bread, wine and cock. Sprawled out in the hay, Raul Veneziani whacks off while Daniele Della Valle and Marco Ramazzotti get busy on each other. Clipped and ripped Marco fucks Daniele properly. He’s clearly wearing a condom, but since Marco’s cock is so long, we’re treated to a few eye-popping overhead shots of the illusion that he’s fucking Daniele bare (in the age of safer sex, this is as good as it gets - at least until they perfect transparent latex). Tasty Marco gets to blow two thick loads during this segment.

In "The City," an idle stroll along the piazza leads to an indoor sixty-nine between returning stud Flavio and Glauco (like Madonna, he uses only a single name). Glauco bends Flavio over and rims his (distractingly) none-too-prettily-groomed arse while stroking his own rather meaty uncut meat. They take turns fucking each other, which leads up to a spectacularly sticky finale that leaves Glauco literally drenched in a river of rich, creamy man-goo. And with all of Flavio’s persistent grunting ("Si, si, si!") this sequence has the added and unexpected bonus of serving as a rudimentary linguistics lesson.

Production values are top-notch, though truth be told, I got so caught up in the rapture of the scenery during the first three sequences that I felt a tinge of disappointment the filmmakers couldn’t concoct a more stylish interior for the finale. But here's the verdict: