Rawhide tells the time honored tale of a young man in tight jeans who ends up getting gang banged by three nasty ranch hands in an old barn. There is no real plot, no dialogue, and no background music.

In a nutshell, skinny little Chris Burns is minding his business when he is attacked by three older men (Sky Dawson, Todd Marshall and Ray Medina). Within a matter of seconds, he is set upon, bound, has his clothes ripped from him, and subjected to a multitude of sexually stimulating abuse. Now that might not sound like much, but trust me when I tell you, it works!

Dawson, Marshall and Medina manhandle Burns every which way but loose, from using a belt to tan his hide, to shoving a dildo up his ass so quick that you fear it might get lost. And that is just the foreplay. When it comes to the actual sex, it seems that this nasty threesome might have been saving it all up for Burns as they all take turns at his bubble butt screwing him silly. Burns, on the other hand, looks like he's in so much pain, that depending on your point of view, you'll either be turned on by the whole thing, or, on the other hand, possibly uncomfortable with what appears to be a rape. It all comes down to where the viewer draws the line -- if you can accept that this is all just fiction, then you'll probably be so busy wanking that you will have no time for moral dilemmas.

Once the evil threesome have had their way, they leave Burns discarded in the barn until he is discovered by J.W. King. King, who made his start in the adult business as a Playgirl model, was another of the greats of the 80's with his swimmer's build, jet black hair and slim mustache, he was everything that was right with early 80's porn.

When King discovers the abused little ranch hand, he decides that it is time to try some for himself, so once again, Burns is made to submit to another alpha male until he is covered in another gallon of cum -- but hey, what's this? After all of this nastiness ends, Burns wakes up in bed, with King! Oh golly, it is all just a dream! What can I say, even porn makers were obsessed with that Bobby Ewing shower scene / dream sequence / Dallas plot twist!

As an added bonus, some copies of Rawhide include a blazing short before the film that features J.W. King and blond haired, well muscled bottom boy, Mike Kelly (aka Eric Stryker) as a couple of horny, jock strap wearing guys who get it on in a locker room. This short, but highly charged, bit shows why King was such a hot property back in the day. The guy fucked his conquests with such grace and style, it was almost like he was dancing. In fact, Kelly's reaction to being plowed by the dark haired hunk, is one of seemingly unadulterated bliss. It is definitely a great scene and one worth seeking out!

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Not all older porn is great porn. Indeed take a look at this one (or maybe don't?), Fade Out from 1984 and starring Christopher Allen, Michael Christopher, and Jon King.

Let's cut to the chase: Fade Out is a weak porn film. It has the germ of an idea that, if handled with some care, could have made it clever. However, from the looks of things, this piece of shit was slapped together in an afternoon, edited with a chainsaw, and shipped out the next day. What's even more perturbing about this endeavor is that the sex scenes seem mechanical and lifeless, and, with the exception of one performer, the men involved appear to be half asleep.

The plot of Fade Out begins by featuring a rather husky, fey, male fortune teller swathed in a garish ensemble that looks like one of the tunics Bea Arthur used to wear on The Golden Girls. Coming to this low rent Nosferatu is blond pretty boy, Christopher Allen who does not say much – in fact he does not say anything – he just sits and stares dumbly as the sequined sage reads his tarot cards.

Apparently, the gimmick is that each card represents a sexual situation. For instance, the first card revealed is “The Hermit”, and when the card is turned up, we fade into a cheap set flooded with smoke and stage lighting until we see a guy wander out from behind an obviously fake tree. Admittedly, my hopes were raised when I saw that fabulous little guttersnipe of 80's gay porn, David Ashfield appear in a shredded t-shirt and a well worn pair of jeans. For those of you who don't know, Ashfield was the go-to-guy back in the 80's, appearing in dozens of titles, and apparently the stunt dick for at least several bigger names who, for whatever reasons, could not get it up when needed. Ashfield, may not have been the best looking, or the best built porn-star of that era, but usually he got it up and got the job done and always seemed to be enjoying himself. Sadly, in Fade Out, he does nothing more than lay back, stroke his cock and shoot his load, all the while looking like he's miles away. And then, when he has to deliver a cryptic line of dialogue, he mumbles it. What a waste of talent.

Once we've finished up, Allen finds himself back with the fortune teller who now draws “The Lovers” and faster than you can say, “abracadabra” we are back on that same poorly lit sound stage with Allen who discovers a plain bed with a white rabbit flopping around on it (no, really, it's one of those albino rabbits with pink eyes), and then through the magic of a really bad edit, the rabbit vanishes and is replaced by a couple who begin to sex each other up. Luckily, one of the these guys is another staple of 80s' porn, super bottom, Jon King. King was this dark haired little guy who always seemed to be on the receiving end of someone's cock back in the day, and he always seemed to relish the fact that he was being pummeled – and in Fade Out, he does not disappoint. As King's partner begins fucking him, the little bastard goes into overdrive growling, groaning and convulsing in spasms of pleasure that reach an incredible climax once he shoots his load. Seriously, King is a damn pleasure to watch as he is being pile-driven by his pal, and frankly, he's the only guy in this movie who might actually be enjoying himself (either that, or he was a damn good actor).

When that scene ends, guess what happens? Yup, back to Dorothy Zbornak, and more cards, and more lame sex scenes – rinse, lather, repeat. And so it goes.

Michael Christopher, that dull-eyed blond Adonis appears as The Magician in one scene, and yes, there was no doubt about it, he had one hell of a body; a huge cock, and nipples just made to be tweaked. Unfortunately, he had all of the charisma of a wet sponge. Remember that big dumb jock you lusted over in high school or college? Well Christopher is probably what a real indication of having sex with him might have been like: emotionless, and as dull as dishwater. Sorry, but a big dick and a hot body possessed by someone with no personality equals a boner killer. Suffice to say, Christopher's scene goes on for the longest amount of time – and it's pretty painful to watch as the blond automaton's only real power might be as a sleep aide.

There are several other sex scenes in Fade Out, and they are as listless as the others. Sometimes, a bad movie (even a porn movie) can be so awful that it's good – Fade Out is not one of these films, it is just plain dreadful on every level. And, if you manage to make it to the end of the film, you get to watch the fortune teller fuck Christopher Allen – and if that image does not cause you to go running for the remote control, you are surely made of strong stuff.

That Fade Out goes on for only about an hour, but feels much longer is a testament to it's power as a lousy movie. Avoid this one like the plague.

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One of the earlier, direct to video skin flicks, 1984's Like a Horse, is really nothing more than four unrelated sex scenes all (barely) strung together using the gimmick of having pretty-boy Steve Henson claim that these are all chapters from a book he's been reading.

If Henson's delivery of his lines is any indication, then the book, Like a Horse, must have been written on a third grade reading level. No doubt about it, Henson is adorable to look at, but he can't deliver a line to save his life. Eagle eyed viewers will no doubt note that the brief introductions to each section of this movie are edited to the nth degree. I suspect that Henson had a very difficult time remembering such bits of difficult dialogue like, “Hi, my name is Steve Henson...”

Be that as it may, Like a Horse delivers the goods where it counts: the sex is energetic and arousing.

The first vignette, The Champions, features three randy lads, engaged in some sweaty tag-team wrestling. Brad Walsh, Randy Page and Mark Rebel are actually pretty good grappler's and really seem to be working up an honest sweat as they take turns trying to pin each other. Of course, it does not take long for the boys to start tearing at each other's clothing, and once that occurs, we go from tag team wrestling, to tag team fucking. Although Rebel appears to be the bigger of the three, he ends up both pinned and then banged by the mop topped duo of Page and Walsh. For those with a wrestling fetish, this one's for you!

Next up is Like a Horse's best scene: The Savage is a hot little fantasy that features one of the greatest little sex machines of his time, Shawn McIvan (aka Brian Hawks). McIvan with his crop of curly blond hair, crooked smile, sinewy body, bubble butt and impressive cock always delivered, and this time he's at the top of his game. While sitting in an office courtyard, our hero spots a handsome businessman, Mike Ramsey, and faster than you can say, Blue Lagoon, the duo is swept away to some kind of faux jungle set. Watch for Ramsey in a loin cloth as he walks a tiger on a leash (yes, it's apparently a real tiger!) and then spots the now naked McIvan coming his way. The tiger suddenly disappears and next thing you know, Ramsey is offering McIvan an apple, and like Adam and Steve, the boys share some forbidden fruit, their lips meeting after they mutually devour the apple. Immediately McIvan begins some serious worship at the altar of Ramsey's tight, muscular body. As a matter of fact, McIvan seem to want to devour his object of desire as much as he wanted to eat that apple, and who could blame him, as Ramsey is one tall, cool glass of man-flesh.

As McIvan goes from Ramsey's biceps, to his nipples and then to his cock, it's clear that he is enjoying himself. This seems about as real as it gets. And when Ramsey slips his formidable appendage into McIvan's tight butt, it's almost too hot for words. McIvan's face contorts into a mask of pain, and he screams out, and this causes Ramsey to grab his conquest by the hair, pull him back, and fuck him even harder. Take my word for it: this is just one perfect sex scene. It does not get much better than this, kids.

It would stand to reason that after the blistering sex served up in scene two, Like a Horse might have a hard time topping itself. Unfortunately that is the case with the third section, The Alley. Yup, this is the weakest link. Brad Walsh and Eric Ruff bottom for Joe Craig and Mark Rebel, and while the principals are all nice to look at, the scene seems to be lacking the spark of the first two vignettes and ultimately banging some guy on the top of a trash can seems perfunctory at best. This is the scene you can fast forward through.

But wait, there's more! The final section of Like a Horse finds our less than stellar narrator, riding a horse through the dessert (though it might be more like Topanga Canyon actually) until he comes upon a rather large tent. Once inside, Henson discovers a booty of a different sort in that the interior of the tent is filled with all type of golden artifacts including a magic lamp! Henson, no doubt a scholar of such things as magic lamps, makes a wish and rubs the lamp and is suddenly in the company of three horny playmates: Shawn McIvan, Justin Scott, and Matt Ramsey (not to be confused with Mike, this is the infamous, now days, straight porn star, Peter North).

Within a matter of seconds of finding his conjured up pals, Henson is embraced, kissed, sucked and pretty much worshiped by the three other men. Here is where we see Steve Henson in his element. His face is one of pure bliss as his cock is being sucked by McIvan, his nipples being tweaked by Ramsey, and his ass being fingered by Scott. In fact, he seems to be trembling from all of the sensual stimulation he is receiving at the hands of the others. Thank goodness he has no real lines here other than, “Fuck me” or “Oh yeah." As long as he does not talk, Henson is a real pleasure to experience.

Soon the men pair off, with Henson getting pummeled by McIvan while Ramsey bottoms for Scott. This is a rather interesting moment as Ramsey/North has said on numerous occasions that trick camera work was used in his gay porn films, and that he did not get fucked. All I can say is that I do not believe that CGI was being used in gay porn videos circa 1984. That's him getting banged all right (similarly like when he bottomed for Rick Donovan in The Bigger the Better, but that's another story, for another day, I suppose).

Be that as it may, the little orgy that is the climax of Like a Horse while erotically charged (thanks to mostly Henson and McIvan), seems a bit abbreviated, and ends kind of abruptly. Still though, watching McIvan throw a nasty fuck into Henson is satisfying as is the money shot where our hero is laying flat jerking himself off while the three other guys stand above him, showering him with their seed.

When the party ends, Steve jumps back on his horse and rides off into the moonlit night, but not before he gives his audience a wave and big smile. One can only imagine what further adventures awaited him.

Far from perfect, but well worth viewing, Like a Horse pretty much foreshadowed the future of gay porn: shot on the cheap, not much of a narrative and made up of unrelated scenes strung together, it works best if it is viewed for what it is, a great little offering that mostly works to keep the viewer aroused and excited. For the best results, watch the first part for a warm up, and wait for part two to set your guns blazing. Then when you are ready for more, watch the finale.

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For those of us of a certain age, the name Jack Wrangler conjures up the image of the perfect sexual fantasy; a strapping man with a mop of dirty blond hair, a winning smile, an endearing personality, the perfect body, a huge cock and a seemingly insatiable sexual appetite. He was, for many of us, the first real icon of swinging seventies gay liberation. When the news of his death at the age of 63 was reported, a lot of older gay men felt as if they had lost a member of the family, or at least, discovered that their first crush was now forever departed.

Born John Stillman in Beverly Hills, California, Wrangler was the product of a Hollywood upbringing. His father, Robert, was a film director and television producer, his mother, Ruth, a former Broadway dancer. Early in life, the acting bug bit and when Wrangler was still a child, he regularly appeared on a religious television program, Faith of Our Fathers. Later on he attended Northwestern where he studied theatre.

In spite of his talent and good looks, Wrangler was finding it difficult to break in to legitimate show biz, so in the very early seventies he started appearing at seedy gay clubs around New York City doing strip numbers. It was during his tenure as a dancer that he was discovered by a producer and started appearing in gay pornography.

Jack created his stage name when he saw a label on a shirt that read “Wrangler” and almost instantly, a porn star was born. Due to his all-American good looks, his sexual prowess, and the fact that he could actually deliver lines without sounding like he was reading off of cue-cards, Wrangler was a hit.

Inasmuch as Wrangler was a product of his time, he attributed the fact that he was doing gay porn because it was both “culturally subversive” as well as “politically liberating.” Furthermore, Wrangler claimed that the films were his own way of coming to grips with his own sexuality. After completing almost forty gay porn films, Wrangler crossed over into straight porn in 1978, and had stated in interviews that he had lost his virginity to a woman on screen. During all of this, Wrangler managed to appear in several off-Broadway productions, write a fitness column for a gay magazine, and lend his name to a string of sex toys and products.

Sometime in the mid 70's Wrangler met singer, Margaret Whiting (some twenty years his senior), and the two immediately hit it off. Allegedly, when Wrangler told Whiting that he was gay, she replied, “Only around the edges, dear”. Whiting and Wrangler married in the early 80's and shortly thereafter he began writing and producing musical productions (most of which starred or featured his wife). In 1984 Wrangler wrote his autobiography, The Jack Wrangler Story -Or- What's a Nice Boy Like You Doing.

Wrangler never denied his porn past, nor did he renounce his sexuality. He said in interviews that he loved his wife, but still enjoyed sex with men. In 2008 he was subject of a documentary, Wrangler, Anatomy of an Icon. The film played Sundance and introduced Jack Wrangler to a an entire new generation of fans. Wrangler died on April 7th of 2009 in New York City. A life long smoker, he passed away from complications caused by emphysema. He was still married to Margaret Whiting.

For those just catching up with the legend of Mr. Wrangler, I'd like to humbly suggest the following films from his oeuvre for your consideration:

A Night at the Adonis: From 1977 comes a sex drenched adventure that takes place in a gorgeous old theatre in downtown Manhattan where we follow Jack, who plays Donald, a salesman who works in a clothing store by day, and cruises the elaborate grind house for sex at night. This is a must see not only for Wrangler's easy-going and comical performance, but for those interested in what sexual freedom was really like in a more unfettered time and place.

Killing Me Softly: 1979's darkly disturbing love story finds Wrangler playing an actor who falls in love with a sociopath. This is the film with the infamous Brooklyn Bridge fuck scene: two guys going at it, in broad daylight on the pathway of the bridge in clear sight of passing cars and bikers! Not only are we treated to murder, mayhem and a double suicide, but Killing Me Softly also features some fascinating scenes of early gay pride parades in Manhattan. Wrangler shines in this one as an optimist who eventually comes to realize that he must make the ultimate sacrifice for love.

Navy Blue: 1981's romantic comedy finds our boy on shore leave lusting after a ship mate. Before the star crossed lovers hook up we get to see a blowjob in a helicopter, sex with Santa, and a fantasy sequence that plays out like an ad for Sassoon Jeans circa 1978. Be that as it may when Jack and his object of desire (the wolf-like hunk of burning love, George Payne) finally do hook up, it is well worth the wait. Fucking and sucking to the strains of Bolero, the boys set the screen on fire.

Kansas City Trucking Company: Though he is only featured briefly in this 1976 homage to blue collar masculinity, Wrangler makes the most of his brief screen time as the horny manager of a loading dock. His scenes with hairy brute Richard Locke and angel faced Stephen Boyd are abbreviated but highly erotic.

Gemini: A film from 1980 is sex drenched, but thin on plot. Basically, Wrangler plays a guy with a split personality. On the one hand he loves his partner and enjoys having vanilla sex with him, on the other hand he loves donning a leather jacket and hooking up for some back alley rough stuff. Wrangler is all about the sex in this one, and he does not disappoint. My favorite scene is the fireside fuck played out to the strains of Pink Floyd's Have a Cigar.

Boots and Saddles: It's 1979, and a crazy Nazi (that little fuck machine, Scorpio) is screwing and killing gay men on the Lower East Side. Wrangler plays a guy whose latest trick discovers that he might have contracted syphilis from him (shades of Brian DePalma's Dressed to Kill). Nonetheless, when the chips are down and the trick finds himself in the lair of the neo-Nazi, Wrangler comes to his rescue like an urban cowboy, kicking ass and taking names. Both Wrangler and Scorpio turn in some outstanding sex scenes in this peculiar little epic. Pay special attention to the wild fuck Wrangler throws in to Roy Garrett early on.

Jack and Jill: 1984 marked Wrangler's first foray into straight porn, but don't let that put you off from seeing this one if you can find it. This is a brilliant comedy that just happens to have a lot of straight sex in it. I mention it here, because it actually manages to show Wrangler's acting abilities. He is downright hysterical in this film, and his leading lady (Samantha Fox) is his perfect foil. In spite of everything, Jack and Jill is actually a sweet movie with some great acting and some decent heterosexual sex scenes. Oh and yes, Jack delivers in that department as well.

View all Jack Wrangler titles available online now at the CRUISING for SEX Theatre here.

by Addison DeWitt

Casey, released in 1973, is a sunny, silly, sexy romp of a porn film that pretty much made Cal Culver one of the first superstars of adult entertainment. Prior to appearing in this movie, Culver had been a model as well as a stage actor who worked with the likes of Ingrid Bergman. He had also appeared in the sex comedy/thriller film, Ginger. Realizing that there was fast money to be made, Culver hitched his wagon to director Donald Crane's porn film, and a star was born. Culver's character in the film is named Casey Donovan, and that would become his nom de porn.

Casey begins with the titular hero jerking off in bed. Actually he seems to be multitasking as he is watching television, reading the paper, and checking his watch while his right hand is busy wanking. Once he's had his morning orgasm, Casey heads for the bathroom where he pops a handful of vitamins, washes them down with a shot of Southern Comfort and fires up a joint; all the while singing a bastardized version of “Rose's Turn” from the musical Gypsy. If all of this sounds rather foolish, well, that's the point and it sets the tone for most of the film.

If things aren't wacky enough, once Casey finishes his joint he is visited by his fairy godmother (Wanda Uptight – also played by Culver) who dispenses bitchy bits of wisdom as well as granting wishes. So what is it that our golden boy desires most? “Someone to really like me”, is what he says to his fairy godmother. That sounds honest enough, in fact it's kind of endearing. And frankly, Culver plays his horny hero with such charm that it seems to fit.

After his wish is granted, Casey is paid a visit by a jack booted thug (the unfortunately named, Sparrow Guano) who is shot only from the waist down. The mystery guest immediately makes himself comfortable in Casey's living room, undoes his pants and is treated to a quick blowjob by his host. The sucking is fast and furious and once this is done, Casey turns to the camera, his face slathered in jizz, smiles devilishly and says rather sheepishly, “Protein”. If this were a sit-com, the laugh track would be cued up and ready to go.

Next we find Casey in his kitchen looking out the window with a pair of binoculars where he spies the new delivery man for the local market. Realizing that he is lucky as well as oversexed, he calls the market, makes an order and waits for delivery.

Once the delivery man arrives (a rough trade, long haired hunk played by Angelo Ware) Casey almost looks like one of those cartoon wolves with their eyes popping out of their heads when they spot a sexy girl. Immediately, he begins babbling and when the delivery guy asks, “Where do you want it?” (meaning the groceries), Casey replies, “In the kitchen, on the steps, in the Pentagon...” and after a bit of tomfoolery, the boys go at it on the floor amidst a sea of potatoes which have fallen out of a bag.

When Donovan and Ware start rocking, it's very exciting. The men seem genuinely attracted to each other and though they are acting urgently, they still kiss and manage to make the viewer believe that this is the real thing. At one point, as they are engaged in an athletic 69 session, you hear Ware proclaim briefly and loudly , “Oh man, that feels so good!” It looks good too! The sex scene goes on for at least ten minutes as the guys explore each other's bodies and suck at each other's cocks like a couple of love sick puppies until finally, they face each other locked in a kiss while they jerk off to orgasm.

Once things end with the delivery guy, Casey is left to clean up the kitchen floor and suddenly the thug returns and throws our hero over a kitchen counter and starts to fuck him. Casey can't seem to believe his carnal luck and starts asking him a lot of questions, when he finally asks “If I was unfuckable, would you still like me?” the mystery man stops, pulls out and says, “You talk too much” and walks away leaving Casey dejected and confused.

After the days adventures, Casey's fairy godmother returns and he says to her, “No one digs anyone." Ah hah, it seems that our hero is seeking something more than a roll in the hay when his godmother says to him, “Mentally you are still 12 years old." This makes Casey rethink his wish, and he now says that he wants to find something deeper in a relationship, “I want to look in someones face and have them like what they see."

Once more his wish is granted, however the fairy godmother adds, “Everyone will want you, everyone will know you, everyone will like you."

Silliness ensues as Casey runs outside scampering through a suburban neighborhood while car's drive by and people shout “Outtasite, man!” (for those of you unfamiliar with swinging 70's vernacular, outtasite was akin to referring to someone or something as “hot”).

As Casey continues his jaunt he spies a downright gorgeous young man with jet-black hair sketching in a pad. The hippie/artist (Nat Grey) wastes no time after catching Casey's eye and begins following the charmed one.

Soon the guys are chasing each other through the woods until finally they stop for a kiss and to get to know each other. And this is where Casey really shows its age: when asked his name, the hippie jots something down on his sketch pad that reads, “I'm Stephen, and I've taken a vow of silence until the war is over”. Casey replies by writing that he manufactures protest buttons, “Make love, not war!”

Make love, they do -- a slow, sensual erotic dance happens next, alfresco, as the boys get inmate with each other. Of note is how absolutely beautiful Culver and Grey are. They seem to resemble two angels with demonic sexual appetites. Watch as they embrace and then suck each other off, and while the camera does go for closeups of their impressive cocks, it also shows us their faces which seem to be alive with honest emotions. When Grey has his orgasm, his gorgeous smile is almost enough to melt the most jaded viewer's heart, he's that perfect. Of course, this movie being what it is, has to throw in another gag: done lovemaking, the boys run in slow motion to each other while Casey says in voice over, “We looked like a goddamn deodorant ad.”

Happy at last, Casey and Stephen move in together and time passes. Eventually though Casey seems to be getting a bit bored with the adoration his lover bestows upon him, and one day he proposes that they add someone else to the mix. Ever eager to please, Stephen agrees and soon the delivery man is back.

Next up we discover the rough-trade delivery guy splayed out on Casey's living room floor watching a baseball game while Casey and Stephen spend time caressing his body and making goo-goo eyes at each other. Finally, the delivery guy seems turned on and a hot three way occurs with the men engaged in a daisy chain suck fest which eventually morphs into Casey getting his ass fucked by both his lover and the guest. Make no doubt about it, Culver was one of the best bottoms out there, and when he is getting fucked his face reveals that of a man at his most satisfied state of being.

Once the guys finish up and everyone shoots their sticky loads, the jack booted guy shows up again. This time, however, we see all of him. It is revealed that he is a black man with an Afro the size of Texas that crowns his head. Considering his look, I was half expecting him to spout off something about the Black Panthers, but instead he turns out to be the voice of reason explaining to Casey that he still does not really know what love is all about, and that he must trust himself, and love himself first.

With that, the man instructs our hero down to the floor, closes his eyes and tells him to gently ask for what he really wants. Expecting to be ravaged by the three other men in the room, Casey says, “Fuck me, suck me, touch me.” As Casey pleads, the men gather up their belongings and exit, leaving Casey to whimper, “Touch me, touch me,” over and over until he finally realizes that once more, he is alone.

Solo once again, Casey's fairy godmother reappears and tells him that he's blown it, and he's back to zero again. Suddenly this happy little skin flick gets all morose with our hero lying on his bed and flipping through Stephen's drawing pad. Just before the end credits begin, Casey looks into the camera and says, “From zero to infinity and back to zero.”

It is odd that this film ends the way it does, and yet, it sort of makes sense. Like most films made in the 70's (porn or mainstream) Casey seems to suffer from a sort of mixed message. On the one hand it's a celebration of sexual liberation, while on the other it reinforces the old adage that without true love, we are nothing at all. Be that as it may, I highly recommend seeking this one out, and not just for the great sex scenes, but to witness how a little story telling and sense of humor can turn a skin flick into something with a bit more substance.

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