January 2005 Cover
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By
Giacomo Tramontagna
Truck Stop Muscle
Rating: 2 Stars
Pacific Sun Entertainment. Produced and directed by Phil St. John. Videography by Biff, Jeffey, and Phil St. John. Edited by Karl Ernest. Music by The DB Club. Starring Cole Parker, Brad Buff, Trent Cougar, Damien, Ivan Andros, Kid Cock, Jeff Brooks, Mark Cirriano, Jason Davis,
and Marco Paris.
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Cole Parker, a round-faced, curly-haired urchin who knows what he wants, likes to hang around truck-stop men's rooms watching road-sore truckers roll in for relief. At his favorite tearoom, he's customized his own glory hole. Except for a jerkoff sequence allotted to Brad Buff,
Parker is in every scene. The sexually versatile young model makes a respectable porn debut in
Truck Stop Muscle, but his performance hints at more potential than director Phil St. John knows how to exploit.
In the opening sequence, Parker briefly sucks and gets fucked through his personal glory hole by hulking, hirsute Damien. But when bad-boy Kid Cock appears with submissive Ivan Andros in tow, Damien joins them in a rough, nasty three-way. Forgotten, Parker watches
from the safety of a stall. The risibly named Brad Buff's fantasy solo, in which he writhes around with rose petals stuck to his back, is mercifully followed by real-world glory hole contact between Buff and Parker. This interlude is nipped in the bud when the boys are abusively busted
by Trent Cougar, a scuzzoid cop who spouts endearments like "Motherfuckin' queers!" Finally, the men's room fills with horny truckers who kick down a wall to pull Parker into a seven-man orgy that never quite comes to a boil.
In a supplementary featurette, St. John congratulates himself for shooting more videotape than the average porn director. "The more footage you shoot," he explains, "...the more of those little golden moments you're gonna have." That's theoretically true, but
golden moments are in short supply in Truck Stop
Muscle. If St. John shot so much extra footage, why does the final edit retain shots where the action seems nil? Why are you able to see performers glancing past the camera-- hoping, maybe, for guidance?
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