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If you got a big gushy boner from observing the forbidden thrills in the previous six Power Boys installments (or in the ninth, which inexplicably arrived at our doorstep for review way before this one did), you’ll be wallowing in seventh heaven here. The adorable cast is young, hung and mostly smooth - the scruffy exception being the salacious cover model who gives great massage and enthusiastic deep-sucking head. (Incidentally, the tantalizing cover is by far the best box art S.E.V.P. has concocted yet!) Different assortment of twinks, same sordidly delicious hijinx: slurpy gobbles of plump uncut cock; moistened licks of pink puckered hole; condomless thrusts into tight quivering buttocks; white salty jets of boy cream delivered thickly to eager lips and wagging tongues. The use of new-agey music is an added boon to the production value, which is otherwise still plagued by occasionally amateurish camerawork and clunky editing. And I wish studios would pu-leeeeze stop resorting to the tired, overused and otherwise outmoded device of slo-mo "extensions" of cumshots applied to [try to] make medium-grade ejaculations look splashier [they don’t]. In this day and age, with viewers’ sticky fingers poised over our smudgy remote controls, it’s easy enough for us to replay a highlight in slo-mo when we want to, without being bullied into it by an editor with no respect for the real-time rhythms of effusive pearl jam. Speaking of effusive pearl jam, I applaud the ample semen factor in this flick. Despite a phantom cum shot during the first sequence (a versatile bareback shower duo in which only one boy blows a load), the remainder of PB7 is gooey with messy wads of spurt boy cream.