Cecilia

I won't beat around the bush, as it's better to make a clean breast of all fleshly matters, so I'm coming clean about my avid appreciation of the splendidly smutty 80s classic, Cecilia. I have long been fervidly fixated with maestro, Franco's monobrowed, micro-budgeted, magisterially befleshed, bountifully bushed, pink-centric 80s output. This revealing expose of premature female emancipation is a gaudy delight of onanistic overkill and penetratingly hole-sum entertainment! Sadly, some more pedantic, pudenda-pounding pundits are often too 'hardon' this greasy-palmed expose of a morally liberated middle-class mademoiselle. I found Franco's scintillatingly skin-sational 'Cecilia' to be enticingly endowed with one of the sweetest openings I have ever seen in any exotic 'lotion picture'!

Happily, Franco's luridly investigatory camera leaves little to the viewer's imagination, as what lofty flights of far-flung cinematic fancy could ever really grope to match the perfectly pulchritudinous presence of the enchanting, sinfully statuesque starlet Muriel Montossé? With his fabulously frothy femme-fest, recidivist flesh-addict, Franco couldn't be any more voluptuously vainglorious! 'Cecilia' remains seamily stimulating and pleasantly degrading at the same time, which is, quite frankly, far more entertainment than a nimble-wristed wretch such as I deserve.