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en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thundercrack%21
If you're at all familiar with underground cinema, than you've probably heard tales about this flick for years. But actually seeing the damned thing is a different matter entirely. Crass, sick and hilarious, this no-budget b&w feature is filled with the essence of pure, undiluted cinematic derangement. Like the earliest works of John Waters, it revels in taboo-shattering shocks and an undying love for Hollywood kitsch. Gloriously overwritten by George Kuchar, and directed by the late Curt McDowell (who was one of Kuchar's first students), it's a torrent of comically-lit cliches, heated to the point of lurid parody. The time: A dark and stormy night. The setting: An old, secluded mansion -- the home of the terrifically obscene Mrs. Gert Hammond (Marion Eaton), who staggers about the place with heavy, mismatched eyebrows and a vomit-caked wig. And as the night progresses, more and more visitors arrive at her doorstep, stranded by the inclement weather. One guy has a fear of ladies' girdles, another is the Christian wife of a country western singer, a few more were in a car wreck, and George Kuchar himself shows up (and steals the show) while transporting circus animals. The characters then proceed to fight, fuck and spout pages and pages of dialogue, while Marion plays voyeur through secret peepholes -- watching the males play with vacuum-powered penis enlargers as she masturbates with a huge cucumber. A smorgasbord of 42nd Street goodies are left out for the guests' disposal (the predictable array of blow-up dolls, jellies, dildos, et cetera), and they're certainly tested out thoroughly. Everyone has dark, nasty secrets. Everyone has weaknesses which are eventually exposed. And all the men have hairy asses (which we get in WAY-too-loving close-up). Of course, the best is yet to come, when the viewer is introduced to Marion's dead hubbie, who she had pickled in jars after he was killed by locusts; and her son, who's kept locked in the basement with Elephantitis of the balls. Plus, since the filmmakers have every other sexual combo on display, why not toss in a horny gorilla with a taste for young men, and Kuchar's indescribably demented story of having sex with an ape?!... With a running time of over two hours, the film may sound like a task, but it never slows down and NEVER shuts up, not even for the sex scenes. Never one to waste film stock, Kuchar has the characters rambling incessantly, even in the middle of a blow job. This is a full-blown, near-perfect parody which cobbles together a cast of Irwin Allenesque characters, and then steeps them in hardcore sex and disturbing imagery, until it becomes a twisted, OLD DARK HOUSE-style soap opera. The performers are all appropriately hyperactive, with Kuchar bringing power (and flying spittle) to every word. But the flick's true joy lies in George's gift for scriptwriting. The movie's packed with long, lush monologues, wall-to-wall revelations, plus dialogue so dense (and often drowned out by the score) that it's impossible to ingest in only one sitting. But is it erotic, you wonder? Not to the unimaginative mainstream viewer, but I certainly found something cruelly, crudely seductive in its fondness for fetish and secret pleasures. Without question, THUNDERCRACK! is one of the great underground sleaze epics, and a touchstone for all independent filmmakers to come!
- Steven Puchalski
Is it possible for a film to be too bizarre, too outrageous - even for cult audiences? That was certainly the case with this one, which was played briefly at midnights and drove people from the theaters in bewildered repulsion. But, then, it was ahead of its time. I had heard about it for twenty years before finally seeing it, and it was definitely worth the wait. You have never...and I mean never...seen anything remotely like Thundercrack.
This black-and-white underground film really defies conventional description, but let me try...It's mainly about Mrs. Gert Hammond (Marion Eaton), an alcoholic widow who lives in a large house on the prairie. She spends much of the film's opening scenes talking about her dead husband, Charlie. During a thunderstorm, several wayward travelers seek shelter for the night. There's a woman who bathes (and pleasures) the besotted Mrs. Hammond and speaks incessantly of religion; there's a gay hustler trying to go straight and the man who picked him up (who just lost his wife in a dreadful accident involving a flaming girdle); and there's a pair of young women whose car exploded after they picked up a man with two crates of stolen bananas.
The group spends the night speaking in ridiculous, hilariously melodramatic style about their various bizarre obsessions and having brief (but definitely hardcore) sex scenes in every conceivable permutation. Straight, gay, solo, and even with a gorilla. Yes, a gorilla. Let's move on...
During the course of the film, we learn that Gert's husband was torn apart by a swarm of locusts, and that his remaining body parts are pickled in the wine cellar. Gert also has a son, who was a sex-fiend and had a room full of toys to enhance his solo fun. Gert watches through a peephole as her guests enjoy themselves in the toy-room while pleasuring herself with a large cucumber. We then learn that the boy went to the tropics for exotic accoutrements, where he contracted elephantiasis of the testicles. Gert keeps the freaky mutant in a locked room for his own protection.
The fun really starts when a circus worker named Bing (George Kuchar) shows up. Bing tried to run his truckful of animals off the road because he didn't want them tortured by crippled children at an upcoming fair. The animals (who are roaming free outside the house) include a gorilla named Medusa, who happens to have an insatiable lust for sex with men. The houseguests spend the rest of the film trying to stay safe from the animals while indulging their personal obsessions and keeping Gert away from her trusty meat-cleaver. The hitch-hiker gets the hustler to submit to being his butt-toy in exchange for his crate of bananas so the young man and his new-found girlfriend can get away. Things really get silly when Gert puts Bing in a wedding dress and marries him to the gorilla.
It's really pointless trying to summarize any more of this hallucinatory plotline, so let me just say that if you're looking for something funny, weird, and absolutely extreme, this is the movie for you. It flows a lot like a dream - one character will say or do something completely insane and the others will accept it as if it was perfectly normal. One is reminded of Bunuel's Phantom of Liberty as envisioned by John Waters. The grainy black-and-white photography and odd lighting add to the dreamlike effect, as does the film's extreme length. Luminous Video offers a 2-hour version, while Video Search of Miami reportedly has a 2-1/2 hour cut. It's never boring, though, and your jaw will be hanging open in amazement through most of it. George Kuchar's script is brilliantly surreal, and Curt McDowell directs with style belying the low budget. This is a movie that really deserves renewed life on video, and (now that it can find its intended audience) should become a cult classic.- The Amazing World of Cult Movies
Take a cliched Horror-story beginning, a remote Gothic mansion, an insane hostess, a group of strangers (four men, three women and a gorilla) and you pretty much begin to see that this is not meant to be a serious film, but rather a parody of several other (older and better) ones. Social and sexual confusion & misunderstanding guarantees that this odd cast of characters will come together and entertain & amuse for 120 minutes.
Is it possible for a film to be too bizarre, too outrageous - even for cult audiences? That was certainly the case with this one, which was played briefly at midnights and drove people from the theaters in bewildered repulsion. But, then, it was ahead of its time. I had heard about it for twenty years before finally seeing it, and it was definitely worth the wait. You have never...and I mean never...seen anything remotely like Thundercrack.
This black-and-white underground film really defies conventional description, but let me try...It's mainly about Mrs. Gert Hammond (Marion Eaton), an alcoholic widow who lives in a large house on the prairie. She spends much of the film's opening scenes talking about her dead husband, Charlie. During a thunderstorm, several wayward travelers seek shelter for the night. There's a woman who bathes (and pleasures) the besotted Mrs. Hammond and speaks incessantly of religion; there's a gay hustler trying to go straight and the man who picked him up (who just lost his wife in a dreadful accident involving a flaming girdle); and there's a pair of young women whose car exploded after they picked up a man with two crates of stolen bananas.
The group spends the night speaking in ridiculous, hilariously melodramatic style about their various bizarre obsessions and having brief (but definitely hardcore) sex scenes in every conceivable permutation. Straight, gay, solo, and even with a gorilla. Yes, a gorilla. Let's move on...
During the course of the film, we learn that Gert's husband was torn apart by a swarm of locusts, and that his remaining body parts are pickled in the wine cellar. Gert also has a son, who was a sex-fiend and had a room full of toys to enhance his solo fun. Gert watches through a peephole as her guests enjoy themselves in the toy-room while pleasuring herself with a large cucumber. We then learn that the boy went to the tropics for exotic accoutrements, where he contracted elephantiasis of the testicles. Gert keeps the freaky mutant in a locked room for his own protection.
The fun really starts when a circus worker named Bing (George Kuchar) shows up. Bing tried to run his truckful of animals off the road because he didn't want them tortured by crippled children at an upcoming fair. The animals (who are roaming free outside the house) include a gorilla named Medusa, who happens to have an insatiable lust for sex with men. The houseguests spend the rest of the film trying to stay safe from the animals while indulging their personal obsessions and keeping Gert away from her trusty meat-cleaver. The hitch-hiker gets the hustler to submit to being his butt-toy in exchange for his crate of bananas so the young man and his new-found girlfriend can get away. Things really get silly when Gert puts Bing in a wedding dress and marries him to the gorilla.
It's really pointless trying to summarize any more of this hallucinatory plotline, so let me just say that if you're looking for something funny, weird, and absolutely extreme, this is the movie for you. It flows a lot like a dream - one character will say or do something completely insane and the others will accept it as if it was perfectly normal. One is reminded of Bunuel's Phantom of Liberty as envisioned by John Waters. The grainy black-and-white photography and odd lighting add to the dreamlike effect, as does the film's extreme length. Luminous Video offers a 2-hour version, while Video Search of Miami reportedly has a 2-1/2 hour cut. It's never boring, though, and your jaw will be hanging open in amazement through most of it. George Kuchar's script is brilliantly surreal, and Curt McDowell directs with style belying the low budget. This is a movie that really deserves renewed life on video, and (now that it can find its intended audience) should become a cult classic.- www.myduckisdead.org/2014/03/thundercrack-1975-curt-mcdowell.html
A group of weird
strangers, seeking shelter from a raging thunderstorm, end up in a mansion named
Prairie Blossom in Curt McDowell's underground cult classic. Mansion's hostess,
Mrs. Gert Hammond (Marion Eaton), is a lonely alcoholic widower, whose husband
died under bizarre circumstances, and her son apparently "doesn't exist"
anymore. Shocking secrets and lustful copulations are abound, as the mysterious
strangers start getting acquainted with each other in the dark corridors of
Prairie Blossom!
Even after decades of digging through the scum infesting the B-movie sewers, it's possible to run into a completely flabbergasting film every once in a while. THUNDERCRACK! (1975) is one of those films. Made by notorious underground artists Curt McDowell and George Cuchar, THUNDERCRACK! is what late-night cult movie theaters were truly invented for. THUNDERCRACK! is a strange amalgam of absurd comedic elements and hardcore porn, and probably the most walked out film in existence—at least according to legends. Here's a rough estimate of the ingredients this sizzling gumbo is made of:
Of course, when viewing a cult film such as this, it inevitably raises the question 'Who needs to see this?' Possibly nobody, but I'm certainly glad that it's possible to make a film like this without getting shot. Perhaps films like THUNDERCRACK! are the ultimate test by which the lenience of a given society is weighed. Basically, THUNDERCRACK! is completely vulgar and tasteless trash, but even trash has a purpose in shaking prudish, conservative values.
Defending the film gets even more interesting when one considers the fact that director Curt McDowell's sister Melinda McDowell acts in the film, performing hardcore sex acts on-screen as her brother is directing her from behind the camera. Mind-boggling, to say the least.
Even after decades of digging through the scum infesting the B-movie sewers, it's possible to run into a completely flabbergasting film every once in a while. THUNDERCRACK! (1975) is one of those films. Made by notorious underground artists Curt McDowell and George Cuchar, THUNDERCRACK! is what late-night cult movie theaters were truly invented for. THUNDERCRACK! is a strange amalgam of absurd comedic elements and hardcore porn, and probably the most walked out film in existence—at least according to legends. Here's a rough estimate of the ingredients this sizzling gumbo is made of:
- A giant load of John Waters' bad taste
- Ed Wood's ludicrous technical incompetence
- Overabundance of Tennessee Williams-esque writing
- Douglas Sirk-style melodrama gone awry
- Black & white haunted mansion horror movies from 1940s
- Grungy '60s & '70s porn reels
Of course, when viewing a cult film such as this, it inevitably raises the question 'Who needs to see this?' Possibly nobody, but I'm certainly glad that it's possible to make a film like this without getting shot. Perhaps films like THUNDERCRACK! are the ultimate test by which the lenience of a given society is weighed. Basically, THUNDERCRACK! is completely vulgar and tasteless trash, but even trash has a purpose in shaking prudish, conservative values.
Defending the film gets even more interesting when one considers the fact that director Curt McDowell's sister Melinda McDowell acts in the film, performing hardcore sex acts on-screen as her brother is directing her from behind the camera. Mind-boggling, to say the least.
It's always a strong
merit for a film when you see a drunken female protagonist digging her wig from
the toilet—on which she had vomited just a second ago—and putting it back on her
head. Also, it's a plus when you see a gorilla giving one of the male
protagonists a handjob. The voyeristic Mrs. Hammond also spies on her sexually
overcharged guests through peep holes and pleasures herself with a cucumber
while they engage in both hetero- and homosexual acts of intercourse and
masturbation—sometimes with the aid of various sexual devices.
But despite all the marvelous vulgarity on display, THUNDERCRACK! feels terribly long. Obviously, as a B-movie, THUNDERCRACK! doesn't really have much substance to it, and the prolonged dialogue and monologue scenes drag on forever—the end result has a sedative effect despite all the sexual perversions on-screen.
But despite all the marvelous vulgarity on display, THUNDERCRACK! feels terribly long. Obviously, as a B-movie, THUNDERCRACK! doesn't really have much substance to it, and the prolonged dialogue and monologue scenes drag on forever—the end result has a sedative effect despite all the sexual perversions on-screen.
The DVD version of
THUNDERCRACK! I have is 122 minutes long! Watching it through without any
interruptions is a daunting endurance test—just like Tinto Brass' CALIGULA
(1979)—and a great way to measure one's tolerance for trash movies.
Unbelievably, the original version runs for staggering 158 minutes, which is
mind-boggling to say the least. Usually, B-movies like this have the common
sense to run for 80-90 minutes, but THUNDERCRACK! is basically the GONE WITH THE
WIND of trash movies. Recommended only for seasoned veterans of super strong
trash. - flatulenceofthegods.blogspot.com/2012/11/thundercrack-1975.html
Imagine Rocky Horror in black and white and as serious perved-out schlock-horror. Now, let's soup up the story a little...
We have a big old mansion on the hill. Some strangers are caught in a thunderstorm as their truck breaks down and they decide to seek shelter. They are shown to a room in which they can change into some dry clothes (this room just happens to contain a wide variety of sexual 'aids'). Maintain an atmosphere of menace.
Soup it up a bit more. One of the characters is love-sick for a sex-crazed gorilla with whom he had an affair back in the days when he used to work in the circus. The owner of the mansion has the remains of her husband pickled in various bottles in the kitchen. Her son contracted a weird condition in the Far East that made his balls so heavy that they crushed things and sent him crazy (so he's behind a locked door and trying to get out).
Into what is becoming an increasingly complicated story that involves cliched situations treated and re-created with incredible vision, add the odd 'porno' scene (why have pretend ones?). The effect of this is equally unsettling. Just as you get into the comfort zone of camp horror, some carefree full frontals make you feel distinctly on edge - all the better to freak you out for the next scary plot development. I should add that a bountiful mix of hetero and gay sex ensures it is not a film for dirty old men unless they are exceedingly liberal, and the sudden shifts between genuinely erotic and scarily weird make you feel involved with the characters rather than observing them from a superior height.
I saw this film for a second time in 2005 and it was apparent that a number of very explicit scenes had previously been deleted. As the graphic sexuality runs simultaneously with double and triple puns explaining the subplots, it makes much more sense with them in and makes the film more cerebral than the average psychotronic experience. The acting by lead character Marion Eaton is also outstanding, almost Shakespearean, and contrasts with the tongue in cheek hamminess of other cast members in a way that makes your jaw drop. One of the most unusual films you'll ever see, I can't imagine anything more weird if John Waters was abducted by aliens and then regurgitated all over someone making a psychotic horror spoof with political and psychological undertones.
If you like cult films this is a jewel. Go and see it with very open-minded friends, or people you know very well!
Thundercrack! is a cult classic for the seriously open minded - www.eyeforfilm.co.uk/review/thundercrack-film-review-by-chris
We all know what I'm doing, but what is Mrs. Gert Hammond doing as she watches me get dressed or undressed? Excellent question! She's inserting a peeled cucumber into her quagmire-esque vagina. Duh, squared!
Eyebrows! Shit! Fuck! Piss! I can't believe forgot to mention that it was Marion Eaton's always deranged eyebrows that diverted my attention from the mustaches on the faces of the fellas in this film. There I was, putting all this effort into setting up my rational obsession with Marion Eaton's eyebrows in Thundercrack!, and I decide to go on this weird tangent about drilled holes, peeled cucumbers, and, of all things, Anne Murray. It was totally unprofessional on my part, and I promise that it will happen again. Imagine if I didn't happen again? I get shudders just thinking about it. On the positive side, my off-kilter digressions are gonna put my kids through college someday.
If I had my druthers, my children, the statuesque Agnieszka (she likes Jem and collects defective scrunchies) and the pugnacious Zbigniew (he likes Sgt. Rock comics and has a rational fear of centipedes), will hopefully get into any number of the fine community colleges that litter the borough of Brooklyn, New York. Why there? Well, they have an excellent Canadian History course (learn all about John A. MacDonald and the cultural significance of Anne Murray's pussy), and, more importantly, that's where Roo (Moira Benson) went. Who the fuck is Roo, and what did she learn at a community college in Brooklyn that was so great? For one thing, she knows how to make an atomic bomb. And secondly, she gives great head. How do you know that? Just ask the cock attached to Bond (Ken Scudder), as I'm sure it will tell you what an oral delight it was to intermittently splosh around inside Roo's pretty mouth.
Opening with a scene that features Mrs. Gert Hammond (Marion Eaton) sitting in her kitchen on a stormy night mocking the weatherman on the radio, the film, directed by Curt McDowell (Loads) and written by George Kuchar (Hold Me While I'm Naked), quickly moves onto the road where we meet Bing (George Kuchar) as he's driving through the aforementioned storm. Ranting about circus life and informing us that "gorillas are different from children because they have more hair," Bing is clearly insane. The next character we meet is Toydy (Rick Johnson), who's hitchhiking in the rain. Eventually picked up by Sash (Melinda McDowell), a chick who got a red butt in Tuscon, and Roo, a tough city girl with sensual lips, Toydy thanks the ladies and gets in the backseat. Distracted by Toydy's cock (Roo insisted that he pull it out), she looses control of the car.
The fate of the threesome is unclear, as we don't see what happened to them. But Bond tells Chandler (Mookie Blodgett) that he saw an explosion. Unimpressed by what Bond saw, Chandler continues to drive. Isn't he gonna stop to see if they're all right? No, I'm afraid not. For you see, the House of Philips Unlimited is where Chandler is going, and no-one, not even a car accident, is going to stop him from reaching his destination. What's going on at the House of Philips Unlimited? Well, his late wife, Sarah Lou Philips, daughter of Leland Philips, the girdle king of central Texas, died because of the girdles they make at the House of Philips Unlimited, and Chandler has made it his mission in life to destroy his former father-in-laws girdle factory.
Seemingly unaffected by the world around him, Chandler continues on with Bond, a guy he picked up at the bus station. Hold one. The bus station?!? That's sounds kinda gay, if you ask me. Oh, believe me, I would never ask you. But you're right, it's gay, all right. Traumatized by the girdle fiasco, Chandler is now only sexually attracted to men, hunky men...with mustaches...who hang out outside bus station bathrooms. Suddenly, their conversation, which has has so far run the gamut from dodo bird tattoos to bongo drums, is interrupted by a not-so wily woman named Willene Cassidy (Maggie Pyle), the wife of a famous country singer.
Somehow convincing him to check on the car accident, Willene tells Chandler and Bond to meet her at the large house at the end of the road. When Mrs. Gert Hammond hears a knock at her door, she can't believe her ears. Realizing that the voice on the windy side of the door is not only a human voice, but a woman's voice, Mrs. Gert Hammond starts to freak out. Obviously not accustomed to having visitors, she asks Mrs. Cassidy to "please forgive the delay," and goes about fixing herself up. However, in her mind, "fixing herself up," entails drawing on eyebrows in a haphazard fashion and vomiting on her wig while wearing a black slip. As strange as it sounds, I happen to know several people who are into the whole "mature ladies who vomit on their wigs while wearing black slips after they fall in the toilet" fetish, so this scene should be right up their alley.
Welcome to Prairie Blossom. I hope your brain is ready to absorb some fucked up shit, because Thundercrack! is about to get weird. Putting her vomit-stained wig back on, after giving a couple of shakes, Mrs. Gert Hammond finally gets around to inviting Willene into her home. The film's first big laugh comes thanks to Gerd's forgetfulness in regard to the history of Prairie Blossom, as the schmaltzy piano music stops and starts when Gerd does.
"How many days and nights has your womanly body been deprived of a wash cloth," asks Mrs. Cassidy before she removes Mrs. Gerd Hammond's slip. Placing her surprisingly taut body into a warm bath, Mrs. Cassidy proceeds to cleanse Mrs. Gerd Hammond's filthy frame in what turn out to be the film's first erotic sequence. Well, at least I thought it was erotic; Mrs. Cassidy goes to town on Mrs. Gerd Hammond's tired, aching vagina with the devotion of a loving mother.
After changing into the shortest kimono humankind has ever seen, Mrs. Gerd Hammond, her pussy refreshed and vibrant like a summer day, welcomes Bond, Toydy, Roo, Sash, and Chandler into her humble abode. There's no sign of Bing, but I'm sure he'll be around soon. While sitting in Mrs. Gerd Hammond's living room, Chandler tells the group what exactly happened to his wife on the day her girdle burst into flames. Just in case you wondering, the animosity that was prevalent between Chandler and Bond on the road continues inside Prairie Blossom, as the two of them are constantly fighting with one another.
Telling them to take off their wet clothes, and "change into apparel hanging before them," Mrs. Gerd Hammond invites them to get dressed in a bedroom at the end of the hall. And so begins the "pealed cucumber dildo voyeurism" sequence, so named because it involves a pealed cucumber dildo and voyeurism. Watching each of her guests get undressed in a room that is littered with pornographic materials through a pair of holes in the wall, Mrs. Gerd Hammond stuffs her box while Chandler uses a masturbation machine, Roos pleasures herself with a conventional dildo, Sash plays with a puppet, and is soon joined by Bond (he's wearing a condom with a chicken head on the end), and Toydy penetrates an inflatable sex doll while penetrating himself with a conventional dildo.
Somewhat flustered after Toydy catches her in the act, Mrs. Gerd Hammond retreats to the kitchen, where she talks with Mrs. Cassidy about her son (it was his room where all the guests got changed/masturbated/had sex). I liked the look on Mrs. Gerd Hammond's face as Mrs. Cassidy inadvertently ate her pealed cucumber dildo, as it reflected the look most people would probably sport if someone started to unwittingly eat your unwashed, veggie-based sex toy. Oh, and in case you were wondering what the status of Mrs. Gerd Hammond's son is, she explains it by saying, "My husband is dead, my son no longer exists." I know, what could she mean by that?
As you would expect, or maybe you wouldn't, it is, after all, Thundercrack!, the characters pair off together: Chandler and Sash have sexual intercourse in the wine cellar, Roo gives Bond vigorous blow job (work that cock, girlfriend! man, her snotty face makes my twig hard), and Toydy toys with Mrs. Gerd Hammond in the kitchen.
Suddenly, an elephant roars. It would seem that a throng of decrepit circus animals are running loose outside, including a gorilla named Medusa (Pamela Primate). It's at this point in the film, which is exhaustively long at 158 minutes (the ideal length for a movie of this type is around 80 minutes), that Thundercrack! starts to display its razor sharp wit. The dialogue that centred around Chandler's vendetta against the House of Philips Unlimited was sort of clever and Mrs. Gerd Hammond's passionate defense of her pickling technique was delightfully stupid.
When Bing finally does show up, things get even more weird. Yeah, I know. You wouldn't think that was physically possible if you were to judge by what has transpired up until this point, but they do; get weirder, that is. Wondering why a bunch of heterosexual women and gay men are hanging around the house belonging to a crazed mature woman with a rocking bod and a set of eyebrows that look like they were applied by an apoplectic dandy fop, Bing is flummoxed and a tad ansty in the pants department (his Kucharian cock longs for ripe gorilla pussy). But don't fret, Chandler fills Bing in on all the juicy details.
As Bing began to tell the tale of how he and Medusa first became intimate (a gorilla handjob underneath the big top), I couldn't believe I was still watching this. Anyway, since Medussa is crazy about bananas, and Toydy had brought along two crates worth (he always travels with fresh fruit), Bond decides to allow Toydy to fuck him in the ass in order to procure a crate. The idea is for Bond and Mrs. Cassidy (they're in love) to distract the gorilla with the bananas so that they may escape his furry clutches. It's a long time to wait for some gay sex, but it's totally worth it. Okay, maybe that's a bit of a stretch (don't worry, Toydy used plenty of lube), but I did appreciate the man-on-man action that came near the end of this bizarre exercise. Oh, and as Mrs. Gerd Hammond would say, "People come and go, but the cucumber must stay." I think I know what you mean, Mrs. Gerd Hammond. I think I know what you mean. - houseofselfindulgence.blogspot.com/2012/09/thundercrack-curt-mcdowell-1975.html
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