by John F. Karr
The feature-length Muscle Ridge and its companion anthology of solo scenes, Timberline, are a most handsomely made pair of Colt Studio releases. And while all of the performers in each film have been featured elsewhere extensively—in some instances you might say, exhaustively—they've rarely been granted such a glamorous look, nor had lavished upon them such a crisp, high-definition image with burnished color.
Assuredly abetted by the polished videography and smooth editing of Max Phillips, and atmospheric music by Sergio Montana, director Kristofer Weston takes us to a dense forest, where his men are cradled within massive tree trunks, and bathed in the warm sunlight that filters through the canopy of branches. In the hush of these groves, Weston establishes a languid mood as the men explore their bodies, while his mellow pacing lets us wallow in their beauty. Then he guides them into the heated couplings with the ultimate impact we expect from a sexo.
The casting and pairing of performers for this two-hour feature is uniformly top-notch. Three of the eight men switch partners to make a second appearance, but the first impression that the movie's a merry-go-round of its men is dispelled by the quality and varying nature of the scenes.
Argentine native Adam Champ, now 38 years old and 220 pounds of impressively hard and magnificently furred muscle, tops Trenton Ducati, and returns to top JR Bronson, who subsequently lays lots of lovin' on Dolan Wolfe's nutty brown foreskin before the pair deliver tasty back-and-forth cocksucking and swell fucking, accompanied by lots of sincere-sounding dirty talk. A nifty RC lets us ogle Bronson's burly torso as he twists and flexes atop Wolfe's big dick.
I'm not sure why Ducati's wearing long johns in his first scene, since it appears he's dozing in the hot sun of noon—the shadow of his chair is directly below. But red looks great on him, and he's got it unbuttoned just past his pecker. And that's low down. Anyway, Champ has the sweat-shiny dude undressed in a flash.
Wolfe and Ducati come together for each one's second scene, and avidly devour each other's cocks in an all-oral session. Ducati, who's been beefing it up at the gym and is immaculately groomed, launches the scene with a beaut of a muscle-pump.
What about the mighty fine guys who appear in only one scene? Though both Tate Ryder and Liam Magnuson have recently announced their retirement, neither of their scenes in Muscle Ridge were the ultimate last we'd see from them (these movies were released in the latter part of 2013). Yet these are the scenes where I'd be willing to call it quits.
Magnuson takes top honors for his fab coupling with handsome young Brayden Forrester. The setting for this is plush—they're on a richly padded leather sofa that's plopped down in the middle of a field of dark green vines. Compared to his Muscle Ridge cohorts, Forrester's a relative newcomer; he's the well-built guy who sometimes keeps his glasses on, and looks all the niftier for it. His cocksucking with Magnuson is so passionate I could have lingered on it longer, but you can't argue with the beauty of the fuck into which they launch. Especially when Forrester straddles Magnuson's meat to do some heavy pistoning that has his own cock heartily helicoptering.
If Muscle Ridge had been Tate Ryder's last movie, it would have been a fine valedictory. He looks great, sleek and lithe. The fuck he shares with Tom Wolfe starts slow and serious, with some deep probing action, and stays slow as it gets so punchy it makes both of them cum.
Timberline is a welcome companion to Muscle Ridge. Filmed at the same time and in the same place, it lets three of the movie's stars melt us down further with solo turns. Their scenes are only fifteen minutes long, but are paced well enough, and so smoothly edited (by Marco Gray), that, sufficiently sated, I didn't feel cheated. Getting roped in by the guy's momentary eye is a big plus. Although JR Bronson's date with a dildo could have gone on and on. He's not one of those guys who accept a bonus salary for stuffing a dildo up his butt and perpetrating some clumsy looking roto-rooter action upon themselves. Nope, Bronson's a virtuoso. His dildo of choice is a rather large number, which he entertains to good effect in several positions, ultimately cumming with toy planted firmly in tuchas .
And although I've been a great fan of Trenton Ducati, I've been wondering if I've been sufficiently exposed to his charms. Not without this scene, I'll say, which completely refreshed my Ducati devotion. It's the all-time zenith of the star's beauty. After mesmerizing muscle worship, Ducati nestles himself into the crook of two massive tree trunks, between which his own solid man-trunk of cock hardly seems diminished. He gives us a tactile and sensual session, finger-fucking his hole lasciviously while stroking, and making some beguiling eye contact.
The last solo belongs to Liam Magnuson, shiny in the sun, deliciously sweaty, and altogether fabu. All told, Muscle Ridge and Timberline are suave and sexy, the Cadillac-type ride that's a Colt trademark.