I did another pre-judging thing. You think I would have learned from last week. But I didn’t–to err is human and all that jacuzzi. I immediately saw the foot pictures and thought to myself, “Self. You don’t think feet are sexy. You will probably not like this one. And then you will have to write a bad review and where will you be? You know you can’t say anything bad about anyone’s porn. It’s the way they have sex after all, and no way is wrong. You will be either a silent, lying porn reviewer or a complete dick.”
So I resigned myself to watching a “foot thing” and finding the positive. Perhaps I am footphobic due to my own skis–I am the equivalent to a men’s size nine. For my european readers, that’s a size 42. And I’m a girl. When I lived in France I had to leave the country to buy shoes. And once you flee to Germany seeking footwear, it’s pretty impossible to see feet as anything other than an annoyance and two pads of flesh on which to stand, let alone as anything that belongs in porn.
What I actually found was far more than sucking on toes.
New-comer J-Bird’s smile is like kittens heaped with scoopfulls of rainbow jimmies and chocolate-covered happiness. Seriously, it’s cherubic sunshine. And just as good was Jiz Lee’s grin of abject glee and complete mischief. I was reminded once again that no matter what they’re doing, I just like seeing two people enjoying each other. Joy is fucking sexy. People having fun also = sexy. And regardless of what they were doing, the sheepish little grin as J-Bird entered with their collar in their mouth was effing adorable. I started getting hard when J-Bird started blushing like crazy. I didn’t really care what was making them moan like that. I like seeing real orgasms. I am used to feature films that need to get an R or under to market, as most people are. Can’t get real pleasure in those.
Once again, Crash Pad delivers on communication. So much so, in fact, that I feel like I’m repeating myself from week to week. Jiz telling J exactly what they want, the “come hither” motion instructional moment, might be my favorite part of this episode. It’s not that I find it hot (though Jiz Lee doing anything naked is always, always hot) but more that I find it a) endearing and b) valuable for people in relationships to see. As my friends come to me for sex advice (and they do in spades when you’re a sex blogger) one of the common themes that crops up across orientations and gender expressions is not knowing how to start up a conversation about what pleases them. As I’m listening to Savage Love, it seems as though it’s said over and over again. What’s the correct way to do that? To tell someone what turns me on? To ask for x,y, or z in bed? My incredulous answer to those who ask is always the same–during sex, of course. And nicely. Very nicely. With a please and specific instructions. Perhaps a diagram. Jiz does exactly that. I can point to this pairing with a smile on my face and shout “See?! I’m not full of shit!” Feedback is best delivered in the moment, even if that moment is a naked sexy time moment. Unless the person fucking you is a mind reader, good luck getting what you want with a wink and an eyebrow wiggle. But what if someone takes it personally? No one ever will, I reply. J-Bird looked like they were having a grand ole time, and you’d be too if you were wrist deep in Jiz Lee. Better that J-Bird accomplishes what they set out to and that both parties have a rocking good time. It goes without saying that Jiz’s “no biting” is my next favorite bit in the whole piece. A firm, playful boundary set in the moment and followed up with kisses on their thigh. And through all this communication many oh’s, and much jubilant laughing. No “moments” killed. See? Communication is the key to the kingdom and I’m not an idiot. Porn is on my side.
That concludes the part of this review where you will be able to take me seriously.
When the pants came off I got a great view of J’s underwear. And I was like, yay! Critters! Damn, where can I find me a pair? And I nearly screamed with glee at Jiz’s adorable boxer briefs. Most delightful unders on the planet. In fact, in season one they were wearing priceless pantaloons as well. And while alone in my apartment, cat in hand to keep him from trying to leap into a pot of boiling water in the kitchen, dog by the collar because he was trying to climb onto my computer chair with me, I shouted “What is this, the cute underwear club?” So I pose the question to you both, co-Presidents of the Society of Amazing Boxers: where the hell do you shop? I think we, as a public, need to know.