“Babysitters Take on Big Dicks 3,” Now with Patented Accumulation Technology

Babysitters Taking on Big Dicks 3

BSStudio: Zero Tolerance
Director: Mike Quasar
Released: 2016
Starring: Kimmy Granger, Elsa Jean, Harley Jade, Marley Matthews, Johnny Castle, Mark Wood, Danny Mountain, Brad Knight

It’s been such a long time since I’ve watched an entire porn movie, front to back (the way you’re supposed to wipe), that for a moment before watching “Babysitters Taking on Big Dicks 3” I felt guilty: I don’t know any of these women. I haven’t met them on sets. I haven’t followed their tweets. I haven’t loaned them my lighter.

I used to watch movies knowing the kind of car the star drove, what kind of dispensary her boyfriend worked for, how she left lipstick on her coffee cup, how different she looked in and out of makeup. I’d have a personal connection. But I’ve been away for a little while. Now I feel voyeuristic. As America is well aware, I like to inspire porn, not watch it.

So I just took a gig as a contributing editor at Penthouse, and I need to figure out the porn world again. It’s a good group of people over there. But it’s really not porn the way I understand it. Penthouse is no longer the decadent pissfest it was several years ago. Now it’s classy. (-ish.) But I can see that sort of nudity in the ESL classes I teach (I grade on a curve). So I thought I’d grab the very first porn DVD I found stacked in the mailroom here at Gram Ponante Towers, Helipad, Greek Orthodox Church, Salmon Hatchery, and Decommissioned Battleship and, understanding the movie was directed by veteran Mike Quasar, use it to once again understand the entire pornoverse through this little, puckering keyhole. Wish me luck.


Before the feature begins, however, DVD viewers are treated to an ad for My Perfect Stroke, a Fleshlight-style device that you put your dick into in the absence of a lady. It is for sale from ZeroToleranceToys.com. Unlike adult video, adult toys can’t be pirated as easily (unless one is making an homage to ripping off Fleshlight, I guess). A woman I think I recognize (is it Kendra Lust?) sits in her lingerie on a nice clean couch and intones the following:

“My Perfect Stroke uses patented accumulation technology that delivers mind-blowing orgasms,” she says, inserting a vibrator into the disembodied pink vulv, squeezing the plastic enclosure like a burpable lunch container mated with a Tresemme shampoo bottle and a bong, and causing the vibrator to get sucked in. “The Perfect Stroke creates a unique sensation that sucks and strokes with the most lifelike feeling possible. Experience the ecstasy of being stroked by my completely realistic mouth, pussy, and ass.”


I’m sorry, Lady, but I can see both your mouth and your pussy right now, and they are attached to the very fetching rest of you. The only way this cheap jacktube could be realistic is if—God forbid—you stepped on a landmine and bits of you were scattered across the roadside.

“My Perfect Stroke delivers never-before-felt full-body orgasms,” she concludes, sticking her fingers in and out of both herself and My Perfect Stroke, moaning and talking dirty independent of the current location of her digits. It is as if My Perfect Stroke has a direct haptic/spiritual connection to her own pussy.

I watched it happen, folks. I can vouch for it. I am Oscar the Vouch.

Then there was an instructional video with copywriting by some guys not senior enough to stand under the tent at Home Depot.

“Boy,” I said. “If the short was this good, imagine how the movie’s gonna be! It’ll be like Pixar with Women Fucking with Their Shoes On All the Time.”

Patented Accumulation Technology. In my day we called that a wad of Kleenex. And frankly, “My Perfect Stroke” sounds like some self-help book from Kirk Douglas about the lessons we learn when we no longer have feeling on the left side of our body.

Then the movie begins.


Elsa Jean checks twice to make sure no one is around, then strips to sunbathe by the pool. Mark Wood arrives almost immediately. But he does that thing where he stands there for a minute and wonders what to do.

“Oh my God, Mr. Wood!” she says, cupping her breasts. “Why are you home?”


“What are you doing?” he says. “My meeting got cancelled so I thought I’d come home early. Where’s my son at?”

Jean explains that the boy’s Mom picked him up and they’re at the park. She just thought she’d lay out, topless, so she wouldn’t get tanlines.

One of my pet peeves is “babysitter” porn in which no offspring is ever mentioned or even hinted at. Some pornographers think that it is enough to have a woman in a ponytail as the universal signifier of babysitter. I’m sorry but that’s Racist.


What Quasar and company do here, very quickly and effectively, is establish Jean as a babysitter and Wood as a dad concerned about his offspring. He’s also an adulterer. This movie is fraught and substantive.

They fuck on a gray couch.

What isn’t explained: Why was no one concerned whether or not the tot and his mother would return home on such a nice day, considering they already had a pretty yard with a goddamn pool? Why did Mom even take the kid to the park? Was she slumming? Why did Mom not dismiss Ms. Jean when she took over childcare duties, allowing her to get on with her day? Did she pay Jean the money she would have made had she stayed the full time? Wouldn’t the wife smell sex all over the couch?


Marley Matthews talks with her boyfriend on the phone while absently masturbating through her clothes. Where is the child she’s minding? Perhaps napping. It isn’t explained. But what’s important is that we believe that this is what Matthews does whilst talking on the phone. Unfortunately we can’t quite figure out why she’s wearing what she’s wearing but still shod in sneakers (which are on the bed).


Dad Johnny Castle has also had a business meeting get cancelled, he tells his buddy on the phone, and returns home. He clomps heavily down the uncarpeted floors to find Jade deep into her juicy parts. She somehow hasn’t heard him. I don’t believe it for a goddamn second.

“I was just having a little fun while I put the kids away,” she says when he discovers her. She tosses her phone without hanging up, so we imagine the ensuing sex scene is all a slap in the face to her boyfriend on the other end of the line.

“I should be a little upset but I’m actually kind of turned on,” Castle says.


So we know where it’s going from here (well, we knew where it was going when we got up this morning) but what is always fun for me is the beats the performers need to hit between Part A and Part Come on Her Face:

“You have a boyfriend, right?” he says. “How—”

“Only for three months,” she says, stepping on his line.

Now a bad performer would have repeated himself, but Castle takes a moment and finds something else to say.

“Really?” he says, after a moment of quiet reflection.

Then they fuck on the bed.

What isn’t explained: Why didn’t Castle check on his kids first? I’m pretty sure they’re dead.


Danny Mountain is a concerned dad. He feels that covergirl/babysitter Kimmy Granger has been dropping the ball in her duties.

“I thought I was doing such a good job,” she says. “It’s not like he died or anything.”

“Obviously it’s very important that he doesn’t die,” Mountain says. “But I was hoping you’d read to him.”

“I showed him my Instagram.” (Mike Quasar is a not-heralded-enough genius of porno dialogue.)

Mountain threatens to fire her.

“How will I pay for my 12 outfit changes at Coachella?” she says.


She asks him what she has to do to keep the job, at which point Mountain turns to the camera and says, “Well…”

This was my favorite scene not only because Mountain and Granger are so silly and good, but because there are no loose ends. There is no lingering question about where the kid is—Mountain has just met with Granger to fire her and then things go horribly awry.

Speaking of awry, I was going out with someone last year and she and I, on one of our first dates, attended a wedding. As the shuttle got closer and closer to the location, I realized I’d been to this house several times before for porn shoots.

Mountain fucks Granger on the same couch my date and I sat on last August. If you watch the video closely, you can see a little of my DNA.


The woman and I broke up in February. I wish her the best. She was nice. But once I asked about her mother and she said, “Her name is Carole. With an E, like in ‘A Christmas Carol.'” And I said, “‘A Christmas Carol’ doesn’t have an E in it, anywhere,” and she was like, “Oh yes it does.”

I can’t have that kind of energy in my life.



Harley Jade assures a vacationing Mom over the phone that the kids are just fine. She’s kind of tumbling out of her loungewear, though, and that wouldn’t be a problem if she hadn’t made reference to the emergency numbers on the fridge. Why does this matter? Because in the overlong Phone Conversation with No One, Jade assures the mom that the kids know where the emergency numbers are, too. Well, if the kids can read, what are you doing flouncing around with your boobs hanging out in the middle of the day?

As soon as she gets off the phone, her boyfriend, Brad Knight, shows up. We see that it’s the same house as in the Johnny Castle/Marley Matthews scene. We feel bad for Johnny Castle that he didn’t get to sample this babysitter, too.


While it is clear that Jade is in love with Brad Knight, it’s just a little less effective of a scene because her being a babysitter is now incidental—it’s not the dad coming home to catch her or anything remotely transgressive. There’s only the vague worry that the literate children will wake up.


I really enjoy Jade’s facial expressions in this scene.

I’m pleased that I haven’t been gone so long that everything seems different. I’ve met Mountain, Castle, and Wood before (it just occurred to me that all the noms de porn of the guys in this movie suggest the adult version of “Excalibur”), and the remainder of the cast doesn’t make me say “Holy shit—I don’t know anything anymore.” Porn pubes aren’t cut any differently. No one looks any whiter or skinnier or more or less tattooed. Everyone still says the same stuff when jizzing or getting jizzed on…

Perhaps the only thing that has changed is me.

Previously on Porn Valley Observed: Cheyenne Hunter—The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Biker MILF
See Also: Zero Tolerance

About Gram the Man 4399 Articles
Gram Ponante is America's Beloved Porn Journalist

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