Tantra

erent meaning, 

Sorry if I've been a little quite recently, but I've been rather busy learning to become a tantric masseur.

So what is tantra and why was I drawn to it? To quote from the tantra4gaymen website

 

Tantra is the ultimate fusion of your sexual energy and your spirituality. These create states of bliss and ecstasy and in Buddhist and Hindu traditions are a path to your enlightenment.  Tantra delinates a multitude of esoteric beliefs and practices within hinduism and buddhism which have a long standing tradition reaching back to at least the 8th century. In its original meaning, Tantra is a mystical pathway, an accumulation of practices that have in common extensive use of ritual and of psycho-experiential techniques such as yoga, visualisation, and meditation.

In its modern form, Tantra has a slightly different meaning, referring to both new age and modern western interpretations of traditional Tantra, brought forward by pioneers of the so-called Neo-tantra since the 1970s. These teachings consider sex as a sacred act which is capable of elevating its participants to a higher spiritual plane. They all show how sexual energy can be transformed into ecstatic experiences. To reach this aim, they offer a wide range of techniques, containing elements originating from fields such as bodywork, breath work, yoga, and meditation.

For years religions have taught us that sex is shameful, that we should be ashamed of our naked bodies, and, even for those of us who no longer practice any religion, these feelings of shame can be deep seated and so entrenched that we find it hard to simply relax and enjoy one of life’s greatest pleasures. This is harder still for gay men, who have probably had ingrained in them from an early age the fact that sex between two men is wrong and sinful. We often react by indulging in a series of casual encounters, hurried and furtive, and ultimately unsatisfactory. Indeed, in my work as an escort, I have come across any number of men who, once they have ejaculated, can’t get away quick enough, their shame suddenly taking over from their transient pleasure. They leave vowing that they will never have sex with a man again, but they are back a week or so later and the pattern is repeated. 

Jason, the lead tantra teacher of tantra4gaymen is passionate in his quest to help men understand that they are ok as they are, that they deserve love,  deserve to be sexual and spiritual beings without repression. I too would like to carry on this work. Even in my escort work, I have always tried to provide a space where my clients can relax and enjoy the sexual experience or play out some of their fantasies without judgement or recrimination. 

A couple of weeks ago I spent a couple of days filming some instructional clips for Jason’s website, which will be live on the site some time at the beginning of December. These are not cold “how to” clips, but sensual and sensuous in their own right. We hope that you will be turned on as well as informed, and that you will be inspired to try out some of these techniques yourself. I hope it doesn’t sound too new age when I say it was two days spent in a warm and loving environment, models and crew feeling entirely comfortable with one another, and I think that we may have created something rather special.

I have also been working with Seb Cox, a big loveable bear of a man, who has a slightly different approach (tantra is not an exact science after all), but he too seeks to give men the opportunity to reclaim and reawaken the spiritual dimension of their sexuality. In all his workshops, what Seb reinforces continually is that we have magic in our fingertips, how touch can transform us. He has a wonderful ability to create a safe space where men can just relax, where judgement is set aside, where one can be at peace with one’s fellow men, a space where nothing is expected of you other than to enjoy the experience. I have experienced firsthand the joy of seeing a group of rather timid and tensely nervous men  transformed into a group that is open, relaxed and loving. 

In a world where everything has become rushed, including sex (such iPhone apps as Grindr surely emphasise the need for the quick fix), don’t we owe it to ourselves to take a little time out of our week to allow ourselves to feel really good? 

Here are some useful links 

www.sensualself.co.uk
https://www.tantra4gaymen.co.uk/massage-therapies 

http://www.tantricmassagelondon.info/sebcox.html

http://www.meetup.com/tantra4gaymen/

http://www.meetup.com/BIG-LINGAM-TANTRA-LONDON/

Only Connect

A few nights ago, one of my regular clients booked me for an overnight. Usually we see each other for an hour once or twice a week. Very little of the time is spent talking, so consequently I knew very little about his private life. An overnight gave us the chance to get to know one another rather better, and I learned a good deal more about him. Of course I am not going to divulge any of the details he gave me of his private life, but what surprised me was how unbelievably complicated it is; to my mind unnecessarily so. It got me thinking about why or how people allow their lives to become so muddled.

The muddle my client found himself in started almost 30 years ago, it would seem. I have no doubt, that when the situation started, my client, still a young man, got drawn in by the thrill of concealment, lying to hide his tracks, and enjoying the subterfuge. Anyone who has ever had an affair will know that there is something intensely exciting about those first weeks or months of an illicit union, but that novelty soon wears off and pretty soon you are lying not only to protect yourself but to avoid hurting those you love, and eventually you are left with a muddle that satisfies absolutely nobody. The longer it goes on, the more difficult it is to extricate yourself from the situation, but there are times when the truth comes out and, what seems like an impossible situation is resolved to everyone’s satisfaction. We second guess people’s reactions, and find that actually we underestimated them. Having one’s worst fears realised is not as bad as we thought it was going to be. I sincerely hope that my client manages to sort out his present predicament, as it seems likely that the truth will have to come out one way or another.

I was reminded that muddle, or rather a dislike of it, is a pervading theme of the novels of E.M. Forster, whom I studied years ago when doing my degree. In almost every one of his novels, the characters become embroiled in muddle and mess, until the strands are unravelled and some sort of harmony is achieved. The wonderfully satisfactory and harmonious conclusion to Howard’s End only comes about after a series of cover ups and muddles. The plot involves three families from completely different backgrounds (class is also a pervading theme of Forster’s novels), who become inextricably linked. At the beginning the Wilcoxes hide from the Schlegel sisters a letter from the dying Mrs Wilcox leaving the house Howard’s End to Margaret Schlegel. However after a series of misunderstandings, muddles and messes, Margaret does indeed end up living in the house. The motto of the book is Only Connect.

Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer.

How wise. If we can only connect the disparate elements of our lives, then our lives will be the simpler. I once thought it necessary to keep separate the various strands of my own life, but now see that they are all connected. Experience in one area often heightens our experience in another.

Most muddles stem from the fact that we are hiding something from someone. The bigger the muddle, the more we are hiding from different people. I don’t like muddle. I like my life to be simple. Consequently I prefer not to hide things. I am totally open about who I am and what I do. If people don’t like it, then that is their problem, not mine. I remember this being my attitude very early on. Once at a party, someone sidled up to me and said, with a knowing look, “I know you. I’ve seen your photo.” The statement had a definite ring of “I’ve found you out.” My response caught him off guard though. “Oh right. Would you like to know my rates? I think I have an opening later this evening, if you’d like to make a booking.” Blushing like mad, he slithered away muttering something unintelligible. No doubt this guy was hoping his approach would cover me in confusion, but he could not hurt me. It has taken me some time to appreciate this, but by owning what I do and who I am, I keep my life simple and avoid as much as possible muddle and mess. Only connect seems a very good motto to me.

Gods and Monsters

A short piece this week about last Saturday’s Wig Party 2011, in aid of the National Aids Trust. The Wig Party started over 15 years ago as a private house party, and has just got bigger and bigger, which this year necessitated the move from the glamorous Café De Paris to the new, and equally glamorous One Mayfair. Believe it or not, this was actually my first Wig Party, and I didn’t finally make a decision to go until a couple of days beforehand, thereby throwing myself into a mild panic about getting a costume together. Fortunately one of my best friends is the amazingly gifted and creative sculptor, Steve Yeates, and he came up with a brilliant idea for my costume. I’d already considered going as the Minotaur, but Steve had me hooked from the moment he suggested I go as a golden Minotaur. The body was easy enough – a few tiny bits of leather and copious amounts of gold body paint – but the headdress was going to be more of a problem, or so I thought. I hadn’t counted on Steve’s incredible creativity. He tried to explain what he had in mind, something involving a BMX helmet, some copper piping and bubble wrap. No, I wasn’t convinced either, but I tried to look appreciative, whilst inwardly fearing the worst. I should have had more faith. With the addition of a metal cut out bull’s nose, with a ring through it and a blonde wig cascading hair down the back, the headdress looked amazing.

With Steve as Hades

Steve had elected to go as Hades, and had fashioned himself a headdress of hair made from cling film, with lights inside, which lit up, giving the impression that his hair was on fire. His outfit was completed with a small stuffed dog puppy, with two heads. I suppose it wasn’t surprising that we turned a few heads as we walked from the car to the venue. Mercifully, considering I was practically naked, it was a very warm night.

Winner of the Individual prize

Once inside, we were greeted by a smorgasbord of colour and inventiveness. Almost everyone, it appeared, had gone to a great deal of trouble to deck themselves out in costumes of eye popping fabulousness. The catwalk parade went on for hours, as we all vied for the prize of best group and best individual. I didn’t make it to the final 12, though many said I should have done. No matter, the deserved winner of the individual prize went to a guy who put on a wonderfully entertaining show as a mermaid.

All in all a great, fun night. Roll on the next one.

With gorgeous Nicolle as Medusa

Cheeky

 

Even I Can Be Surprised (old journal entry from my site)

This is an entry from my journal on my website, written before I started my blog, but I thought it was of sufficient interest to post it again here. Hope you enjoy.
  
Today I saw a young man, attractive in a preppy sort of way, who told me he wanted me to take control - something I'm pretty used to doing. He arrived at my flat and wanted to take a shower immediately. Emerging from the shower, he had a nice, trim little body and a whopping cock, that hardened as soon as I took the towel off him. Standing naked in front of me he told me that he had never been fucked before, but he wanted to go "all the way" for the first time. Now you might think that I'd love to take someone's cherry, but I'd far rather someone with a bit of experience normally. Still, there was obviously some deep interior life to this normal preppy looking boy. I could tell by the way he gasped at my touch, and at the way he caressed my muscles as he undressed me. I ordered him to get on his knees and suck my cock, which he did quite readily, though with little obvious experience, and I had to guide him a little. Maybe he was having trouble with my PA. Eventually I turned him round and told him to bend over, while I rimmed his cute little butt. He was squirming with delight and I must say I found his hole much more welcoming than anyone would expect for a virgin. Once I thought he was ready, I lubed him up, told him to put his hands on the sofa, rolled on a condom and started to enter him. He had absolutely no difficulty taking my cock till the whole thing was deep inside him, and he was obviously loving every minute of it. We moved into the bedroom and I fucked him again, this time on his back. He pulled his legs ever closer to his chest so that he could get more and more of my cock inside him. his own cock getting harder by the second. I pulled out and started fingering him - one, two three and then four fingers. It's a long time since I've come across someone who opened up so easily. We tried the anal balls, but when I tried fucking him with 2 of the balls inside him, it was possibly overkill. He decided he needed a toilet brake - well, for a first timer he'd done pretty well, I had to admit.

He came back to the bedroom and lay down again. Deciding that fucking might be out of the question, I started to wank that lovely cock of his and inserted a finger into his butt, locating his prostate and massaging it until he came, loads of the stuff spurting out all over the two of us.

Afterwards he lay there trying to get back to reality. "That was really intense," he breathed. I asked him if it was really the first time he had been fucked. "Well, I've tried fucking myself, but that's the first time anyone else has." "You're an extremely talented boy then," I said.

He went for another shower and while he dressed I told him I thought he had great possibilities - restraints, blindfold etc, and that I had no doubt that soon he would be being fisted. "You took four fingers," I said. A look of total surprise on his face, he looked at my hands. "You have really big hands." "Quite." He just gave me a little smile and handed me my fee. I do love my job sometimes.

What's in a word?

A couple of days ago, I was in the gym, not that there is anything unusual about that, of course. Like most gyms, mine has a bank of TV screens just above the cardio machines, showing various different channels, so you can have something to take your mind off the boring drudge of doing cardio. My eye was drawn to a debate on BBC News about the government’s new plan to allow full legal marriage for same sex couples, a move fully supported, incidentally, by our Prime Minister David Cameron. (Not normally a fan of Dave, I have to admit that occasionally he does get something right.) I couldn’t actually hear the debate, as I was listening to my own music, so was following by just reading the subtitles. A plump, ever so wholesome middle aged woman was saying that it was wrong to use the word marriage for same sex unions as the dictionary clearly stated that marriage described the union between a man and a woman. Further investigation proved that not to be quite true, but, for the moment, let’s assume that what this woman is saying is correct, and that marriage can only refer to that between two people of the opposite sex. Smiling sweetly, she then went on to say that she had nothing against people of the same sex wishing to legitimise their union, but that they already had their own word for that, which is civil partnership. Leaving aside for the moment the question of semantics, it was none the less obvious to me that she viewed marriage as somehow having more validity than civil partnerships, her inference being therefore that heterosexual relationships have more validity than homosexual ones. Clearly then this is a case where the word we use does actually matter. As a single man, I used to think that the whole gay marriage/civil partnership debate had very little relevance to me, but now I see that it has very great relevance for us all. Suddenly the word marriage puts us on a level footing with our straight bothers and sisters. Words can be very powerful.

When I got home, I decided to look up the true meaning of the word marriage.  The OED of 1898 defines it thus

1. a. The condition of being a husband or wife; the relation between married persons; spousehood, wedlock.

Notice that even in 1898 there is no prescription that the marriage pairing is only husband and wife.

In the latest edition of the OED, the definition has changed slightly.

1.      a. The condition of being a husband or wife; the relation between persons married to each other; matrimony.
The term is now sometimes used with reference to long-term relationships between partners of the same sex.

The same edition also contains a definition of a gay marriage.
gay marriage n. a relationship or bond between partners of the same sex which is likened to that between a married man and woman; (in later use chiefly) a formal marriage bond contracted between two people of the same sex, often conferring legal rights; (also) the action of entering into such a relationship; the condition of marriage between partners of the same sex.

Quite aside from being wrong in her definition of marriage, this woman seemed intent on denying us the same rights that she, and all heterosexuals take for granted.

Words are important. How important they are was brought home to me by a piece of news that was brought to my attention, courtesy of Pink News. Jamie Rodemeyer was a 14 year old boy, studying at Williamsville North high School in Buffalo, New York. He was gay, and to all intents and purposes was managing to deal with the bullying and taunts he suffered at his school. He even made an “It Gets Better” video for youtube. Sadly for Jamie, things didn’t get better. The bullying got worse, and finally, unable to take it any longer, he took his own life. How can we hope to stop this bullying when politicians and church leaders constantly indulge in out and out homophobia themselves? The woman on BBC News was indulging her own homophobia, albeit subtly, when she wrongly defined the word marriage as being between a man and a woman. A recent report indicates that over 50% of the British public opposes gay marriage, indicating that society still, at best, tolerates rather than accepts us. I have no doubt that many of those polled are not religious, but religious bigotry somehow seeps down and into society, and colours the way people think whether they go to church or not, and it affects the way our children think and behave.

So, I ask again, what’s in a word? Rather a lot, I would say. Let us hope that, despite the findings of this recent government report, David Cameron can win the debate on same sex marriage, and the law will be changed during the lifespan of this parliament, as he would like.

Love and Acceptance

I spent last weekend with my best friend, actually my twin sister, at his hometown of Caen in Normandy. Quite aside from the warm welcome I received, from the difficulty I had remembering my French, which I hadn’t spoken in 30years, from the vast quantities of food consumed (we’ve both come back fat as pigs), what struck me most was the love, acceptance and openness shown by all those I met.

With my "twin sister" Billy

Billy did not have an easy childhood or adolescence. Thrown out of the family home at the age of 15, when he came out to his alcoholic father, who died last year, he fled to Paris, New York, Brighton and London, doing whatever he could to survive, eventually turning to drugs and alcohol himself. However, even at the height of his addiction, he had a keen instinct for survival, which led him to check himself into the Priory, taking the first steps on the road to a recovery, which continues to this day. He has been clean 9 years, though this does not stop him going out and enjoying himself at parties where those around him are drinking or taking drugs. His problem has never become anyone else’s. A few years back he was diagnosed HIV positive, which he dealt with with equal courage and fortitude. With all these problems he has also managed to own and run successful businesses. He is a remarkable person.

I tell you this because Billy is very open about the details of his life. Everyone we met in France, from his relations to his school friends knows everything about him, but it has made no difference to them. It was wonderful to see how he was welcomed with total love and acceptance by all the people we visited, and there were an awful lot of them. (I was getting quite lost as to who was who by the end of Saturday). Inevitably I suppose, I began to compare his life to mine. I had a fairly trouble free childhood, though my adolescence was harder as I tried desperately to be the person my mother wanted me to be, rather than the person I am. I knew I was gay, but I hid it from myself as well as everyone else for such a long time, that when I finally accepted I was gay, it was something of an epiphany. I came out to all my friends down here in London, then to my brother, and finally to my mother. She reacted as only she could. She still loved me of course, but that was despite the fact that I was gay, which was just another cross for her to bear. She would of course keep it to herself, as there was so much shame attached to having a gay son. To this day she has never told the rest of the family, not even her own brothers, to whom she claimed to be so close. So much for openness and acceptance. Is it any wonder my visits to my hometown became more and more infrequent. Unlike Billy, I never really felt I fitted in with anyone at school, so I have no contact with any of my childhood friends, many of whom have moved away from the area anyway. It was only when I moved to London and went to Drama College that I felt I fitted in anywhere.  

The main reason for us going to France at the weekend was to attend the 40^th birthday party of one of Billy’s friends, whom I had met, with his charming wife and lovely young daughter when they were here in London for New Year. The guests (at least 60 of them) ranged in age from young children to grandparents . Apart from Billy and me, there was one gay couple there. Everyone else was straight, though we fitted in so wel it really was of no consequence who was straight and who was gay. A few spoke English. Most didn’t, though I still managed to hold quite a few conversations with people. The party started at 8pm with punch and nibbles, but tables had been set for a sit down meal, which Christophe, our host had prepared himself. He had always been adamant that on his birthday he would cook for his friends. In the event, we didn’t sit down to eat till 10pm and dessert didn’t arrive till 2am! The courses were interspersed with dancing and even a flash mob, with which I joined in, having been taught the routine the previous evening. Billy’s sister had written new lyrics to a well known French song, detailing events in Christophe’s life, which she performed with her husband and another couple of close friends, and so on and so forth. Billy acquainted people with what I do for a living, explaining the difference between us. “I’m a slut and he’s a whore, because he gets paid and I give it away free”. Not really true these days. Billy’s more of a nun, which seems a terrible waste to me. But I digress. Nobody made judgements. I was welcomed with acceptance and open arms. I suppose what I am saying is that it was a joy to be accepted for who I am, rather than despite who I am, which is usually the case when I go to my hometown. When we left the party, exhausted, at 3am, it was still in full swing, children still playing, people still sitting round chatting or dancing. I had more fun than I’ve had in a gay club in London in a very long time.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the world could be like that? If we could all be accepted for who we are? Too often, like most minorities, we are tolerated rather than accepted, if we are tolerated at all. Why do so many people find it hard to accept other people’s differences? Difference is what makes the world go round. It should be celebrated, as indeed it was on Saturday night.

Are Open Relationships Ever Completely Honest?

I’m asking the question as an outsider, you understand. As it clearly states on any of the dating sites of which I’m a member, I am happily single and not looking for a boyfriend. However that does not mean I want to sleep with someone else’s.

In my professional life, I do of course see a high proportion of men already in relationships, often married (many to women), but in these instances I don’t ask questions. They pay for my time. It is purely a business arrangement. How they square it with their consciences, or if indeed they do, is not my concern, though they will often confide in me details of their unhappy home lives. I might show concern, I might even offer advice, but there is still the understanding that this relationship is a business one, and, in many respects, no different from that between a therapist and his client (after all I am in some ways a therapist). There is an honesty about it that you rarely find in other kinds of relationships.

In my private life I also try to keep things uncomplicated, preferring to meet only other single guys. Unfortunately, and too often, these “single” guys turn out not to be single at all. I really do get annoyed with those that don’t tell you about the boyfriend until after you’ve had sex. “Oh, it’s ok,” they will say, “We’re in an open relationship. My boyfriend won’t mind.” Does it never occur to them that I might? Now don’t get me wrong, as I stated before I am not looking for a boyfriend, but if the sex with someone is good, it is usually because we have made some sort of connection. Is it so wrong that I should want to carry that connection on – occasionally meeting for coffee and a chat, or a trip to the cinema? But no, that sort of thing is reserved for the boyfriend. Each couple makes their own rules of course, and I have always been of the opinion that there is no blueprint for a good relationship. What works for one couple won’t necessarily work for another, and I applaud any relationship that can stand the test of time. But when they make their rules about sex outside a relationship, they are made with scant regard for anyone else involved, and the minute they have sex with someone outside their relationship, that person is involved. From an outsider’s point of view, it can all seem a little smug and self satisfied. They have a significant other in their lives, with whom they can go on holiday, go to the cinema, go out etc, and they can shag around with whomsoever they like, without any sense of guilt.

I sometimes wonder, though, whether these open relationships are as honest as they would like to think, or indeed as honest as the relationships I have with my clients. Let me give you an example. Recently I broke my own rule and agreed to meet up with a young man (I’ll call him John, not his real name), who approached me on Scruff. I already knew from the messages we had exchanged that he was articulate and intelligent, and he told me straight away that he was in an open relationship. We agreed to meet, and I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t expect us to have sex, and of course once we met, his charms were difficult to resist. Ok, I’m human. I break my own rules occasionally. John quickly revealed himself to be a very special young man indeed. There was a shy diffidence about him that was utterly disarming, but he was very definite and actually very grown up about what he wanted, and he had a talent for sex surprising in one so young. He is in a relationship with a man twice his age. Though they have only been boyfriends for 4 months, he told me that from the outset they had agreed to an open relationship, because his boyfriend was a total bottom and because he enjoyed being a bottom too. This was a condition of their relationship from day one and the boyfriend had agreed to it. All very honest and adult, you might think, though, as things developed, it would seem that the details had not been fully thought through. After our first meeting, I mentioned to him that I had recently made a list of London attractions that I had never visited, and that I was planning to visit one a week. He showed a lot of interest, so I asked him if he would like to accompany me on my next visit, and he jumped at the chance.

However, the next time we met, he told me that this second visit had caused problems with his boyfriend. Though happy to accept that John might be having sex with another man, he was not happy that he should be befriending that man or spending time with him; and I had to admit that he had a point. What actually was going on between me and John? We weren’t just having sex. There was evidently more to it. Where does one draw the line though? I love lying in bed and talking after sex, but does that break the rules for someone in an open relationship? Should they literally just fuck and go? Eventually John had to stop seeing me. His boyfriend was growing ever more insecure, which I find totally understandable. In his shoes, I would probably have felt the same. It probably didn’t help that John had been absolutely honest about whom he was seeing. I wasn’t just some anonymous guy, but someone he could look up on the internet and find out quite a lot about. He is not to know that I have no interest in breaking up other people’s relationships. So I understand absolutely why John had to stop seeing me. On the other hand, he brought a little sunshine into my life each time I saw him and it was sad that it had to end, so I do feel a little let down.

On the surface, it may seem as if open relationships are more honest, and I do feel it is better to be totally up front about what you are doing, rather than fucking around behind your partner’s back. But even with that apparent honesty and openness, there are often things one partner might keep from another. That said, I admit to knowing at least one totally open couple who have stood the test of time. They have been together since the 1970s I believe. Very early on in their relationship, they decided not to have sex with one another anymore, and only have sex with others. Their one rule was that if they decided to see someone a second time, then that person had to be introduced to the partner. You might say then that what they have is more of a friendship, but you only have to see them together to see the enormous love and respect they have for one another, and to know that absolutely nothing would ever separate them, their lives are so completely intertwined. I have known them now myself for over 20 years, and, though I see them rarely since they moved to France, I remember them both with enormous affection. Their home was always a home full of love, a love which they extended to all their friends and visitors. I slept with them both individually and on different occasions, whilst the other was in the next door room fast asleep, but fully aware of what his partner was doing, and with not a whiff of jealousy or awkwardness over the breakfast table. They are both extraordinary people

Such understanding and lack of insecurity within a relationship is, in my opinion, rare though, so, from now on, I intend to stick to my rule. Single men only. If John were single, I would no doubt still be enjoying his company, both in and out of bed, not boyfriends but fuck buddies in the true sense of that word; good friends who also enjoy sex with one another, but as he is not single, he is not free to enjoy that sort of relationship. Let all the guys already in relationships fuck around with each other if they like, but in future they can leave me out of it.