At The Edge of Your Bed: Turn It Up, Turn It Down

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From The Urban Dictionary:

Edge: From the gay scene, involves actions and techniques that get you close to orgasm and hold it "at the edge" for a long time (even hours). At that point, you either have a very intense orgasm, or else you might even choose not to have it at all and just save it for another day. Saying that you're into edging implies that you want to participate in a lengthy, intense sex-play scene.

Well, there ya have it.

Sometimes I worry that sex – especially in “the gay scene” – is getting a bit too elaborate. I won't say that gay porn is inherently detrimental, but it can color your perspective, though I suppose that any form of mass media will do that. Just try getting through the ridiculously schmaltzy Hallmark Channel Christmas movie line-up without wondering if carbon monoxide is really all that bad for you. Just as cage fighting and MMA have become gay porn for straight guys – with lots of jacked-out bodies grappling in body fluid-doused mortal combat – our side of the fence strikes me as a tad unwieldy at times. Too edgy? Too much of an endurance test? WrestleMania, just minus the come-and-go jingoism?

That term “edge” (the noun and the verb) has a double-meaning for me; there's nothing wrong with having iron-clad pelvic floor muscles in order to delay climax, yet the notion of man-on-man contact having to be either Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots or Cirque du Soleil can be daunting and even alienating. I prefer something akin to Li'l Abner by way of Tarzan, so when I'm met with the prospect of an entry in Falcon's Edge sub-franchise called Turn It Up, I hope that I've done enough pelvic contractions this week so that I can keep up with today's bionic standard for Kegel muscles.

We're clearly well-enmeshed in the era of Chinese character tats, bristly biker haircuts, and ripping gel-tapered waists – Falcon's models from the '90s look downright wholesome and preppy by comparison – so let's just go with it. Chris Bines and Brandon Jones, clad in matching underwear, wax each other's poles in a curiously somber gray bedroom. The oral play here is particularly intense, with Bines proving himself ever-the-dynamo, and though he's not the sort I go for, I have to admit that he does look magnificent bent over the bed with Jones's face in his ass. The switch-it-up fucking is the kind of no fuss, grit-your-teeth-and-clutch-the-bedframe variety that Russ Meyer just loved, and it all culminates with the now-de rigueur oral cumshot, Jones taking two loads to the face – Bines's and his own. That's commitment.

It's off to the next gray-shaded boudoir. Jimmy Durano gets the come-hither from naked, supine, and rock-hard Ricky Decker. Durano – very Vlad Tepes-looking with a dragon tattoo to boot – is downright splendid servicing the dusky Decker, who returns the favor with abandon as if he's been denied dick for too long. Decker's quivering with delight by the time Durano turns him over, plugs in, and pounds away (no studio seems to lube its performers to perfection quite like Falcon does) and there's another epic oral blast at the end. Decker takes it like a pro, but I do wish that Durano had returned the gesture, mainly because I pictured him headlining remakes of Gayracula and/or Spermula. I can't help it. I'm a sucker for a Bela Lugosi hairline.

I'll freely admit that I miss the days when gay porn was lensed on cheesy sets in tiny Porn Valley studios converted from grocery stores and whatnot compared to the now-standard “porn house” model – basically, a high-end, cookie-cutter property rented out by producers over the course of a couple weeks. Turn It Up has just that backdrop, and by scene three, all the gray can be enervating. Connor Maguire and Alex Graham bring their stubbly charms together, Maguire's mouth working over Graham from the front and the back. Their undulating reverse cowboy action – Graham is fully erect throughout – segues into some welcome bed-top jackhammering before Graham happily gets his face glazed.

Unspent, multiple maniac Chris Bines is back for more, this time with debonair Lance Luciano. Bines remains the winner and defending champion of Cast Cocksmith. The guy can seriously work a shaft with pep, so much so that he rightfully hogs camera time. He's not shy about spreading wide for Luciano either, who pounds him out but good before dousing him out even better. Do I still have no shortage of nostalgia for the era of dopier, sunnier gay porn? Sure, but there's no denying that Falcon's more commercial-looking fare will have the digital generation gratefully going over the Edge.