From [email protected] Wed Jun 7 21:15:16 EDT 1995
Article: 63866 of alt.sex.movies
Path: netnews.upenn.edu!news.voicenet.com!news.sprintlink.net!news.primenet.com!ip018.lax.primenet.com!user
From: [email protected] (lamont)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.movies
Subject: For die-hard Vanessa Chase fans: "Snatch Masters #6"
Date: Wed, 07 Jun 1995 17:53:12 -0800
Organization: b. lamont gunther & assoc.
Lines: 69
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NNTP-Posting-Host: ip056.lax.primenet.com
Status: RO
Only die-hard Vanessa Chase fans will probably want to watch "Snatch
Masters #6."
When I saw the box on the shelf the only thing that caught my eye was that
her name and photo were prominently displayed. Everything else about the
box promised disaster. Only Vanessa and another actress whose name I
forgot were listed, meaning this was the kind of compilation video I
usually avoid like the plague. I decided to watch it anyway, her part at
least, because I owe it to her, right?
First surprise: Her's is the first scene. Disappointment sets in,
however, as she sits on the bed in a dreary motel room, the atmosphere
made all the more gloomy by the washed out color of the print, making
small talk with the character presumably holding the camera.
Disappointment slips into the first level of depression as the guy off
camera feels obligated to enhance the quality of his deep voice with
flourishes of a foreign accent. Imagine, if you will, that voice uttering
little jewels like "This is your fantasy, Vanessa, what would you like
your dream lover to do?" Your throat tighens a little more when Vanessa,
in her faint little voice (which I thought she had left in the unfinished
house that served as the location for GBG 14), says, "Suck my toes ...
gently."
At this stage, you grope for anything that offers hope, no matter how
faint. Vanessa plays with her clit and strokes her nipples, which get
partially hard. That's good. But the voice behind the camera continues
to intrude, offering little asides to someone also off camera named Ron.
At first you think Vanessa is going to have sex with the cameraman, a la
Seymore. But you begin to suspect that perhaps Ron is going to enter the
scene. Finally Ron does lumber in from the left, none other than Ron
Jeremy!
Jesus, now you slip to the second level of depression and the future looks
bleak. Actually, Ron is likeable, can be funny, and can act every now and
again. But this is one of those loop-type vignettes, no story, just sex,
and Ron's character and physical qualities do not lift the encounter to
erotic heights. Ron eventually pushes into Vanessa's pussy and proceeds
to fuck her, but the action is unexciting and fails to hold your
attention. About this time you notice that someone has pinned the florid
brown bed spread to the window curtains in a spasm of decorative
brilliance. This creates such a bizarre backdrop that it competes for
your attention with the languid fucking on the bed ... and wins! Can
events sink any lower, you wonder.
Second surprise. Ron rolls off her and kneels on the bed. Vanessa,
perhaps stimulated a little from the fucking, proceeds to deepthroat Ron's
thick 9.5 inches, once all the way briefly, not with the aplomb that Janey
Robbins has shown, but with resolve and ardor that makes for incredibly
hot sucking. She repeatedly spits on his dick before swallowing him,
apparently satisfying some interior motive. This remarkable turn of
events shatters the gloom that was blanketing the scene.
Third surprise. Ron jams his dick in her asshole and fucks her good.
Although the anal action is rather brief, it is hot.
Finally, in her cute voice and manner, lying on her back while he plunges
into her pussy, Vanessa counts down from 30. Tension mounts as she nears
zero: will Ron actually come on the count? You bet he does, right on cue,
except that he unleashes his load with such herculean force that most of
the cum sails over her head out of camera range, probably to splash on the
cameraman's levis. Only a little cum lands on her mouth.
Vanessa's sucking and ass fucking really turned me on, making this scene
worthwhile. But then I really like her.
No way was I going to watch any more of that video. You're on your own if
you decide to push on.
lamont
169 “I can arrange all that.” Such Apaches as had not gone back on the war-path returned to the States with the troops; but there were five months more of the outrages of Geronimo and his kind. Then in the summer of the year another man, more fortunate and better fitted to deal with it all, perhaps,—with the tangle of lies and deceptions, cross purposes and trickery,—succeeded where Crook had failed and had been relieved of a task that was beyond him. Geronimo was captured, and was hurried off to a Florida prison with his band, as far as they well could be from the reservation they had refused to accept. And with them were sent other Indians, who had been the friends and helpers of the government for years, and who had run great risks to help or to obtain peace. But the memory and gratitude of governments is become a proverb. The southwest settled down to enjoy its safety. The troops rested upon the laurels they had won, the superseded general went on with his work in another field far away to the north. The new general, the saviour of the land, was heaped[Pg 305] with honor and praise, and the path of civilization was laid clear. Parliament met on the 10th of January, 1765. The resentment of the Americans had reached the ears of the Ministry and the king, yet both continued determined to proceed. In the interviews which Franklin and the other agents had with the Ministers, Grenville begged them to point to any other tax that would be more agreeable to the colonists than the stamp-duty; but they without any real legal grounds drew the line between levying custom and imposing an inland tax. Grenville paid no attention to these representations. Fifty-five resolutions, prepared by a committee of ways and means, were laid by him on the table of the House of Commons at an early day of the Session, imposing on America nearly the same stamp-duties as were already in practical operation in England. These resolutions being adopted, were embodied in a bill; and when it was introduced to the House, it was received with an apathy which betrayed on all hands the profoundest ignorance of its importance. Burke, who was a spectator of the debates in both Houses, in a speech some years afterwards, stated that he never heard a more languid debate than that in the Commons. Only two or three persons spoke against the measure and that with great composure. There was but one division in the whole progress of the Bill, and the minority did not reach to more than thirty-nine or forty. In the Lords, he said, there was, to the best of his recollection, neither division nor debate! His cheek paled for an instant as the thought obtruded that the man might resist and he have to really shoot him. "Good, the old man's goin' to take the grub out to 'em himself," thought the Deacon with relief. "He'll be easy to manage. No need o' shootin' him." "Them that we shot?" said Shorty carelessly, feeling around for his tobacco to refill his pipe. "Nothin'. I guess we've done enough for 'em already." John Dodd, twenty-seven years old, master, part of the third generation, arranged his chair carefully so that it faced the door of the Commons Room, letting the light from the great window illumine the back of his head. He clasped his hands in his lap in a single, nervous gesture, never noticing that the light gave him a faint saintlike halo about his feathery hair. His companion took another chair, set it at right angles to Dodd's and gave it long and thoughtful consideration, as if the act of sitting down were something new and untried. "Besides," Norma said desperately, "they're only rumors—" "Oh, I've found a way of gitting shut of them rootses—thought of it while I wur working at the trees. I'm going to blast 'em out." During the next ten years the farm went forward by strides. Reuben bought seven more acres of Boarzell in '59, and fourteen in '60. He also bought a horse-rake, and threshed by machinery. He was now a topic in every public-house from Northiam to Rye. His success and the scant trouble he took to conciliate those about him had made him disliked. Unprosperous farmers[Pg 124] spoke windily of "spoiling his liddle game." Ditch and Ginner even suggested to Vennal that they should club together and buy thirty acres or so of the Moor themselves, just to spite him. However, money was too precious to throw away even on such an object, especially as everyone felt sure that Backfield would sooner or later "bust himself" in his dealings with Boarzell. "Let's go home," she said faintly—"it's getting late."