I admit, I watch too much TV lately. Way too much. But a lot of it fascinates me on a visceral level, along with being on a level a little less visceral (which refers to the gut) and more to the Southerly directions.

Witness: The new reality show, Make Me a Supermodel. I Turned on the station, hoping to see repeats of my Top Chef. Instead I saw eight girls and eight hot guys, most of whom would have been recruited as hookers in my day outside of the Port Authority in New York. These guys will do anything. I refer most specifically to the photo shoot where they were all coupled up. Two of the young studs were asked to get down on a bed in front of the camera - both of them ’straight’, mind you - and they happily complied. In fact, one refereed to how his girlfriend would now think he was gay.

Well, dude. If you can lick your bud’s face, hold him, bump and grind against him…you ain’t got that far to go. And I definitely noticed some bulging going on under those black spandex panties both of you wore. Let’s hear it for reality TV.

- Jack X

That’s directed to you, EC. You sweet bastard.

I guess I’m not immune to this spirit of romance that’s being pushed at us from every direction. Some time ago, I was asked about what men are after. Well, sex, I replied. Which is true. But that’s only half the picture. The truth of it is, is that most of us are equally after love. What makes sex hotter than when his eyes burn into yours? What’s sexier than when, after sex, he stays and you hold each other?

Maybe we’re more animalistic than the average female. Yet I believe our hearts still function and beat to the right drummers, nonetheless. So don’t give up on getting it all, guys. After all, I still have hopes of nailing EC’s fickles heart.

- Jack X

Nothing, and I mean nothing, is more of a turn-off to me than funky music playing in sex scenes. It may work just fine for mainstream films. It can amplify dramatic tension. It can, at best, provide wonderfully ambient background.

Not with porn, though. It just doesn’t belong and it actually removes whatever reality the most staged sex scenes can offer. Let’s face it - most gay porn has, to this day, awful dialogue (ironically, the bigger the producer, the worse the script). Better to keep it as realistic as possible. And most of us don’t have soundtracks blasting when we have sex.

- Jack X

Valentine’s always reminds me of a guy I knew some time ago. No, he wasn’t mine - we worked together and I had in fact played Cupid to him and the woman he’s still with. The point is, every V Day she would give him the same gift: the classic red silk boxers. Either she didn’t have a lot of imagination or he ripped through those things pretty damn fast.

Now, if I had me a hot Valentine, I’d go the same route but with a variation. How about a new jock for your boyfriend, or plaid boxers? Isn’t there a way to put a personal message on the pouch or the ass part? Women are so limited - if they went in that direction they’d be seen as unromantic. We know better.

- Jack X

I’ve got this neighbor who leaves his filthy sneakers outside his front door. He’s a hot fucker, by the way. I admit fully - I look at those sneaks and feel a rush in my balls. We’ve only nodded to each other but, if he needs a cup of sugar, he won’t have to go far to find it.

But, when it comes to porn, I want it naked. All the way. Sure, there’s a potency in just seeing a dude drop his jeans and feed another dude. But what makes me crazy are the socks. Why? Everything else is off and the men in the film are humping like rabbits on drugs. I wanna see the feet. I love it when the toes curls up when they cum.

- Jack X