Once More into the “Dirt Pipe,” Dear Friends

Celebrating the 10th anniversary of “Dirt Pipe Milkshakes”

“Hi, I’m Anne Cruz,” says Annie Cruz, “and this is ‘Dirt Pipe Milkshakes.'”

That Cruz can’t seem to get through the voiceover introduction to this 2006 film without laughing is one of the reasons I love it so much. Even if the very thought of what a dirt pipe milkshake entails is as repellant to you as it is to me (I mean, by that time porn production assistants had to have spoons and mirrors on hand because some directors required semen to be spooned from the vagina or anus like grapefruit giblets into another performer’s mouth or slurped off a mirror), you can’t help but think — with real affection — that what you are watching and the gleefulness with which it is executed can only be pulled off by professionals who either love what they do or are so high right now.

“Dirt Pipe Milkshakes” goes from real sexy to real unsexy at least five times per scene (for me) but it is a testament to the perviness of director Jake Malone and the willingness of the show-folk in his employ to carry out his whims.

Further, it underlines the fact that all porn isn’t the same and that some performers seek out the edges with zeal, even if those edges aren’t where I live.

And it’s not just “Yeah, I don’t like it.” There’s parts of “Dirt Pipe Milkshakes” that made me want to throw up a little.

It reminds me of something Father Merrin told me:

Something about the air escaping Annie Cruz’s already-jizz-filled anus as she quiffs out four testicles’ worth of sperm — the wet sound you could make with your armpit in third grade — makes me feel like I have crossed over from the sunlit realm of athletic, messy, joyful sex into something “animal and ugly.”

Q. But what, Grams, did you expect from a movie called “Dirt Pipe Milkshakes”?
A. Expectations are a cage, Baby.

It’s not that I don’t think every woman in this movie is powerfully attractive and sexy. Cruz starts the movie, walking across a deep-pile shag carpet in heels, a pin-striped blazer, black fingernail polish, and little else. Those nails waste no time digging into her nethers, after which she licks them clean.

“That’s fine,” I say. “Not my thing, but that’s fine. If Annie Cruz were here masturbating for my whimsy and asked if she should then lick her fingertips clean, I would say, ‘There’s no need. There’s so many other things we could do.'”

She plops herself on the couch and we see the hand of director Jake Malone sneak into the frame to open her blazer. He can’t help himself.

A quick note: Both Malone and Cruz are world-class kinksters. There might be other women who would object to being touched by the director; it is not he who she is being paid to be handled by. But Malone and Cruz are the real deal, and I’m sure that if Malone got the urge to place his Logitech Trackball Mouse up her pussy, Cruz would not object. That’s how much trust there is between such legit pornographers.

Meanwhile, two dicks come out of nowhere. They belong to Andrew Andretti and Brian Surewood. They both bend her this way and that on the couch, Surewood gripping her juicy right hip for leverage. This is what I would do, and I am happy for Surewood. Surewood fucks Cruz in the ass, then Andretti does. She displays her capacious brown asshole for the camera, and this is around the time I start wanting to fast-forward.

I am not speaking for anyone but myself when I say that I will gladly put my penis in a woman’s ass but I would rather not see it, taste it, or smell it. And when I turn 50 (in another 31 years), only then will I let my doctor perform the required prostate exam. No one else is getting anywhere near there.

Q. But Grams, you’re missing out on so much prostate pleasure.
A. Then I will selflessly donate it to UNICEF, OK?

After both Surewood and Andretti come in her ass and she farts the come back out, splattering some on the camera lens, Cruz gathers it into her hand and licks it off.

Let’s forget the fact that watching this actually made me queasy. I can look at 97 percent of porn and not work too hard to think it could possibly be construed as an expression of affection between two or more people who love each other very much. But the administrator in me says that if the come were going to go down her throat anyway, then Andretti and Surewood should have just put it there directly.

Cruz crawls away.

At which I think: There are four more scenes.

The we meet Bailey Blue. She totters into a pool game between Manuel Ferrara and Michael Stefano.

“You don’t put a ball in one of those holes, we’re gonna put some in your ass,” says Stefano.

“Oh, I guess I better get on it,” she says.

Bailey, a blonde, jiggly fleshmass in some kind of mesh sweater dress (I don’t know what it is), misses a few shots at pool and then gets double-teamed by the gentlemen, as are the rules.

Bailey is hot as hell but does something that many performers do that might justify anti-porn activists’ claims that performers actively dissociate during scenes: instead of saying “my” pussy and ass, she refers to those wonderful parts of her body as “that.”

“You have no fucking clue how good that fucking feels,” she says (twice, two minutes apart). “Fuck that ass and that pussy at the same time! You like that ass and that pussy?”

Still, Bailey is more my speed. I am a fan of tall hot messes. I was beginning to think that Annie Cruz was the shock value at the beginning of the movie, and now things would just calm, the fuck, down.

Nope.

After Stefano and Ferrara pile-drive her asshole, Bailey squats over a mirror to plop their seed on it. Then she licks the mirror.

“GROSS,” I say out loud.

Have you ever been coitally involved with someone and one of you does something you think is gross, or less than sexy? Sure you have. The thing is, you never say it out loud. “Dirt Pipe Milkshakes” made me say it out loud.

“That is just gross,” I say out loud again.

Luckily, Bailey had neatly swallowed it all at the end of her scene, so the last image of Bailey finds her looking zesty and naked, with an afterthought of a belt around her midsection that Malone probably thought would obscure a little belly. This surprises me. Of all the things the decisionmakers thought might be unappealing and needed to be obscured, they chose Bailey Blue’s stomach? And they put some early-70’s “Harold And Maude” computer date belt around it?

When Mika Tan shows up for her tease sequence, Malone breathlessly asks her to “show us the stretching of the Asian starfish.”

I ask Mika Tan about Jake Malone.

“Directors shoot what turns them on,” Tan says. “You knew that Jake Malone lived it, and he wasn’t hiding anything. I’m more creeped out by someone’s hiding than by someone like Jake Malone. He’d be the guy who said, ‘You know what would be really great? If you had five dicks in your ass.’ He would say that with his dick in his hand.”

“So he wore his dick on his sleeve?”

“I had a mainstream job interview,” she says. “The guy clearly recognized me. He kept smiling at me. I knew he knew. As a sex worker, I can feel sexual tension; I do well when I feel sexual tension, eye contact. I watch the dilation of the pupils. When people pretend that they’re not aroused, that creeps me out. Jake wouldn’t hide it.”

Tan reclines on a couch that looks the same as the one Annie Cruz spread out on. Then she applies what appears to be the same bottle of lube. Then she grabs for what appear to be the same blue anal beads.

Again as with Cruz’s scene, dicks come out of nowhere for Mika. They belong to Steve Holmes and Jon Dough. Steve Holmes is one of my favorite male porn stars because he always conveys his great gratitude of being there.

“Steve Holmes is such a nice guy,” Tan tells me. “He used to stay with Manuel (Ferrara) when he’d come over, and I’d bring him cookies.”

But we are not thinking of cookies when we watch the scene (unless it involves losing them). Both Dough and Holmes get way up in there, then Malone exhorts her to noisily, squishily expel everything they left inside, which she does. Malone gets up close and we hear everything.

“How come you look 16?” Malone asks.

“Because I’m lucky?” she says.

“How old were you when you started masturbating?” Malone asks. Sinn is new to him and he sounds enthralled. She tells him but I’m paranoid about printing it.

“God, it’s so good to be a whore,” she says at one point.

Sinn is joined by Ferrara and Holmes (we imagine that occasional roommates Holmes and Ferrara are still thinking about Mika’s cookies) who form really interesting patterns with the thin-as-the-shin-of-a-sparrow Sinn.

In the middle of this pornographic interpretation of the Masonic symbol, Sierra Sinn faces us with a cock in her mouth, her legs in a V draped over those of the man fucking her ass from underneath. Meanwhile the legs of the man she’s blowing form an upside down V. It makes you wonder when the Shriners come in.

“Your ass is incredible, Sierra!” Malone breathes. She hoovers semen from a mirror and Malone is beside himself. “Thank you, thank you.”

The final scene, between covergirl Naomi and Michael Stefano, is the tamest of the five, but it’s understandable as the undeniably exotic Naomi was one of Porn Valley’s hottest properties then and her presence on the cover likely ensured more sales. The Israeli/Slovakian mix from L.A. compelled and intrigued a world that had not quite seen that combo of rail-thin limbs, high-def cheekbones, and Kardashian-level ass (probably because the only Kardashian they knew at that point had just defended OJ Simpson). In any other movie, Naomi’s scene with Stefano would have been the raunchiest one. In this movie it serves as a digestif.

It is hard to watch this movie today and not be aware of the changes that have taken place since it was made.

Released in March, 2006, “Dirt Pipe Milkshakes” had been filmed over five days in November and December of 2005. The bottom dropped out of the porn industry in 2008 like many other businesses (of course, around here we say “prolapsed”) and, adult careers being what they are, many performers have moved on. Of the four women in the movie, only Annie Cruz still performs. Manuel Ferrara and Steve Holmes continue to appear in films, but everyone else is gone. Director Jake Malone committed suicide in 2014 by jumping from a bridge in Long Beach. He was 61. Performer Jon Dough hanged himself in 2006. He was 43. In 2007, Brian Surewood — then 44 — was road-racing on Sherman Way in Van Nuys, when his car went out of control. The accident killed a young boy standing by the curb and seriously injured two of the boy’s relatives. Surewood is still in jail. It is a grim counterpoint to the giddy, faux-serious ridiculousness of “Dirt Pipe Milkshakes.”