Porn Again with Buddy Beaverhausen

A little Budapest budda-bing/budda-boom from sleazy Slavs and horny Hungarians, the Falcon International video, Hungarian Hunks, was gifted me by a thoughtful and concerned friend. It being quite a while since I last watched a porn film, I settled in to have some homoerotic, homo-alone fun, eschewing the poppers and Boy Butter that otherwise might have made this a more interactive diversion.

No, I was focused, as is my wont, on theme, plot, direction, cinematography and what can only loosely be called "performances."

First, let me say that my subway commute to and from Bay Ridge is bountiful with Eastern European-immigrant construction workers (mostly Polish and Russian in this case). Lots of very tall, very strapping, very masculine-looking men of varying ages. Why, the air of the subway cars in which I travel is oft thick with the scent of pure testosterone! And Old Spice mixed with stale cigarette smoke.

Yesterday, I tried to discreetly keep my eyes off one middle-aged fellow, well over six-feet-tall, wearing the biggest construction shoes I've ever seen in my life. Talk about your kinky boots! I mean, we all know what they say about men and shoe size, and I do regard that as a rule of thumb! (Or a rule of toe, whichever term seems most apropos in this case.)

I was therefore emboldened and quite ready for Hungarian Hunks, indiscriminately mixing Czechs, Hungarians, Latvians, Belarusians, Slovakians and who have you by way of Eastern Europe, into one large, steamy goulash of my mind; a beef stroganoff for my id. I licked my lips, slipped in the disc and fingered the "play" command.

Can you believe this film has English subtitles (as it's spoken in Czech -- or is it Slovak)?! However, as it's not Cries and Whispers, the dialogue is inconsequential, so one needn't bother to ever actually have to read anything during the film's running time, thank God. There are plenty of hot cries and whispers that really need no translation (love being the universal tongue). And speaking of tongue, there's plenty of that, too, once heavy petting on the white pleather couch turns into a threesome where head is given freely, not to mention hand jobs and hot beef injections up the wazoo. By the look of things in Hungarian Hunks, it's obvious your parents were quite correct in warning you that one thing leads to another. Perhaps that is the moral of this 2-hour saga of sex. (Editing could definitely have been tighter. And you can say that about the sphincters presented as well.)

There's also a bedroom scene where two other hot-looking guys go to it. The electronic film score, however, lends a rather sterile, impersonal touch that sounds more suited for an afternoon tv talk show than over the preceding proceedings. By the time the two gardeners join in with the two housemates and their five army buddies home from Iraq (the film was shot in 2007 and obviously skirts any political commentary on the subject), Buddy B felt boringly bogged down in a "been there, done that" sense of deadening deja vu.

But, boy on boy, I got to tell you! Erotic? This stuff looks messy, like a lot of hard work, and not completely designed for comfort. As for whoever owns the couch, I understand pleather is thankfully easy to clean.  So, I'll go back to fantasizing on the subway, thank you, or wait for the next Falcon International video that is "FILMED ON LOCATION IN EASTERN EUROPE," as the video case's artwork proudly announces.

Budapest budda-boom/budda-bing indeed! Now, where's that Boy Butter?