One school of cinematic thought posits that movies should start off with a bang, and Chatterbox (1977) commences with the softly plush and formidable bosom of sultry-faced blonde Candice Rialson quivering and quaking under the impact of the banging boning being administered by a hunky stud. Soon after these roiling chest ornaments have come into view, the premise of Chatterbox makes itself heard. Through the miracle of modern movie making, Rialson’s pussy (or, as some might say, her "box") is capable of talking and is prone to rattling on uncontrollably (in a word, to "chatter," hence the title). Such an articulate asset can certainly be imagined to expose a bright and pretty girl to a host of adventures and awkward moments, many of them encountered while the girl is naked. Such is the pleasing reality of Chatterbox.