|Posted by Brad Amberheart on October 24, 2019 at 9:50 PM||comments (224)|
This is an excerpt from my upcoming collection of ecstatic gay sex stories, The Book of Matthew: Sexually Ecstatic Love Epihanies from One Man-Whore to Another. All of the stories are true, and emerged from me in the form of letters to my man-whore friend Matthew. I'll be publishing the first collection of 10 stories in April 2020! I'm gradually moving my blog over to Wordpress, which is more versatile for my blogging needs, so you might want to watch for more at more posts at https://bradamberheart.wordpress.com" target="_blank">bradamberheart.wordpress.com
I estimated him to be about 55.
It was his 2nd session with me. This time, he’d told me in an email, well ahead of time, that his purpose in coming to me—in addition to the immense sense of exhilaration and excitement he got from completely surrendering control—was to allow his vision to come forth, of his life filled with travel to beautiful places, enjoying delightful sexual encounters with dynamic, exciting men!
“You’re gonna get it,” I told him, as I wrapped my hard cock in an ultra-sensitive non-latex condom, greased up his hole and my shaft with the world’s best lube, and teased him just enough to hear him BEG for it.
“Please fuck me, sir!” the horny fucker begged, gutturally…
“Can you see your beautiful life behind that blindfold?”
He nodded, panting, the upper half of his face well-covered by the same wide strip of red fabric that I had recently I had used on a porn set. I had put blindfolds on two different porn stars, but honesty…I don’t think the fuck-magic of two porn stars even came close to approaching magic we were making here, now, fueled by his vision of a life filled with beautiful places and exciting men.
“You fucking love dirty lovers, don’t you, fucker?”
He nodded again, holding his breath as I took both of his feet in my hands, held them over my head, and pressed my well-lubed throbbing dick-head right up against his asshole.
“You’re not gonna get it till you’re ready,” I said to him, fully cognoscente of the double-entendre I was speaking—not only for his begging asshole, but for his hungry life, which longed for freedom, greater ease of movement, and—alas—wonderful, dynamic, empowering FUCK-fun, just like we were just about to enjoy…right…NOW…
“Breathe with me, Lover,” I said to him, gently, even while holding his feet firmly and letting him feel the throb of my pulsing dick-head, just entering enough to gently stretch out his outer sphincter with each pulse…
Together, we breathed…
“Let’s take 3 more breaths,” I said to him.
His body relaxed—even his legs, suspended in my hands—and for those few seconds, it felt like all time disappeared. No needs or longing remained…just 2 men, alone, in a room…2 men, alone…
“It’s just us two, just you and me, love-buddy…” I said to him, pulling my dick back for a minute and leaning forward to let my pounding heart vibrate against his taint meat…
It’s opening now…
The Earth is opening beneath me,
and I’m falling, falling…
I lean my head back…
My heart opens to the sky,
and I can see the sky
through the ceiling
until I can see the stars…
even in the daytime…
even while my heart pounds
My heart BECOMES the pulse of life
to sustain all life.
I pull him onto me,
feeling how long he’s been waiting, begging…
My body dances inside of him,
while he convulses, writhes,
and laughs cathartically…
We’re skyrocketing now
through the fucking universe
with Everything that ever existed…
I climb up onto the massage table and slide his well-oiled body back toward the wall so that I can really lay into him and fuck him on his back, from above, with his feet almost touching his ears and my two hands gently massaging the back of his scalp and neck, pulling his body tight against my pelvis while we kiss and eat each other’s face like hungry animals, grunting gutturally with the pure thrill and exhilaration of whole body euphoric FUCK-fun…
I pass his right leg in front of me, past my chest, to meet his other leg, and in one smooth movement, I hop down off of the massage table while I pull his body toward me. Now, he’s positioned on his right side, perfectly positioned so that his ass is within inches of my throbbing boner. I take his right shoulder with my right hand and pass my left hand between his legs to get a grip on his left inner thigh, and proceed to fuck the living shit out of him, on his side. The massage table—oil-slick, yet anchored by yoga mats on the floor to make the legs skid-free—becomes the ultimately-HOT surface for me to pull his whole body onto and off of my throbbing dick, giving him the luscious sensation of being FUCKED at a particularly unusual and sensational angle, on his side, weightless, slithering, and completely under the care and control of a dominant, excited TOP…
JUST what he asked for!
I fucked him for two solid hours. Repeatedly, the energy oscillated from wild abandon to complete stillness…
“Dirty Lover” became his magic words, which simultaneously excited the fuck out of him and invoked visions of years of wonderful, kinky lovers to cum :-)
“Your lovers really love your wonderful, naked, beautiful, life-filed body,” I affirmed in innumerable ways. “Your lovers are filthy, wonderful fuckers who get excited by getting naked and hot with you in bed!”
T’was a transformational Magic Fuck scene indeed! And did I mention he never got hard?
Our culture has removed itself very far from what passionate sex really is. This man loved sex! His whole body was alive, passionate, and excited! It’s amazing to even conceive for a minute that most—if not all—men this man had encountered, up until now, would have perceived his sexual expression to be dysfunctional, based on how hard his dick got and how long it stayed hard! What?
This man was a euphoric lover, enthralled with ecstasy! I loved every fucking minute with him, and so did he!
When would the rest of the world catch up with us? Soon! In the meantime, all of his lovers have caught up, because we shifted the reality of sexual enjoyment for him and named the quality of his favorite, soon-to-be-clearly-manifest DIRTY Fuckin’ LOVERS.
Gay-Men, and Hallelujah!
|Posted by Brad Amberheart on June 6, 2019 at 3:00 PM||comments (3)|
How does this PRIMAL BEAST within me fit into the context of the spiritual path? The truth is that each lover is a collaborator in reconnecting with everything that has meaning and truth to us as people living on this beautiful earth.
|Posted by Brad Amberheart on June 5, 2019 at 11:30 AM||comments (0)|
I only had one sexually transmitted infection in my entire life. I contracted anal warts when I first started having sex in my early 20s. I was scared of disease, especially AIDS, and I was coming out in 1998, at a time when gay people literally got screamed-at in the street in Fairbanks Alaska for being gay and lots of names were still being added to AIDS memorials.
This is the story of how my first and only sexually transmitted infection actually became a catalyst for me to hitchhike from Alaska to San Francisco and live my life wide open. Needless to say, my warts were cured and never came back, and since then, every sex partner has become a collaborator in our mutual journey home to who we really are, and the full celebration of our lives. Our JOYOUS FUCKING SEX blesses us with ultimate health and vitality. Gay-MEN, and Hallelujah!
|Posted by Brad Amberheart on June 5, 2019 at 11:15 AM||comments (1)|
In the year 1998, when I was 25 years old, I quit a job that I both loved and hated. My job was a big adventure! I lived in Colorado with a house full of guys who still lived like frat boys, but all held professional jobs. Often, I would go to work on a Monday morning and find a plane ticket on my desk to leave for Siberia that day. I would leave all of my friends and my whole life behind for 2 weeks...even for a month..,to go get on helicopters and fly out to remote gold mining sites to collect water samples and write reports about how gold mining was going to be the best thing that has ever happened to the people in land of Siberia.
One day, in September 1997, when my flight landed in Anchorage and route to the Russian far east, I almost ran out of the airport and disappeared into the mountains. I felt like I wanted to go back home. I Saul mount Dinali every night in my dreams. Sometimes that was the only thing that could keep me calm and help me sleep. And when I saw that great mountain during my layover in Anchorage, I almost bolted. But I got back on the plane, I got out my laptop, and wrote my resignation letter in route over the Bering Strait. It took me six more months to turn in the letter, but on March 20, 1998, I worked my last day at my desk.
This is the story of what happened when I got back to Alaska to meet the great mount Denali face-to-face! The next story I’m uploading after this is about my “coming out” in the last frontier.
|Posted by Brad Amberheart on April 25, 2019 at 10:25 PM||comments (2)|
I was literally inside of him for an hour and half or more. Wild joyous buttfucking got interspersed with complete stillness. At times, there was no movement other than the rise and fall of our synchronized breathing. Once, I guided him to see the ocean, the warm ocean, rising and falling gently, at dawn…
Stillness came so full-on that it was clear and evident to me that a reconfiguration was happening. So great was the sense of joy and happiness and embrace that I recognized how easy it was for the restructuring, the realignment, to take place…and so I welcomed it, out loud: “Alignment. Reconstitution. Re-congnition. Restructuring. Reconfiguration. So it is!”
The effect of my strong, affirmative words in the midst of complete butt-fuck bliss was evident. His movements and growls and moans intensified, even as we settled into deeper and deeper states of simultaneous relaxation and arousal. I gyrated my pelvis round and round, working my tool deep in his ass, adding circular movements, round and round, to let him feel the girth of my dick all the way around the muscles of his ass, gently—yet firmly—stretching him out in every direction.
I wondered when men would learn that great assfucking can’t be measured in inches. The way I was working the full perimeter of his excited hole, he must’ve felt like my girth was at least twice what it actually was. Is circular pelvic motion still a secret? I wondered. Why are all of the motions (in porn) always in and out, like a fucking jack-hammer? I mean, that has some appeal, maybe the first 5, 10, or 100 times I see it…but what about a guy really dancing inside a guy’s ass, feeling every sensation in his whole body while drilling that ass so passionately that he forgets his fucking name? I would love to create some porn while I go to town on a guy’s ass. I bookmarked that thought…
|Posted by Brad Amberheart on April 25, 2019 at 9:45 PM||comments (0)|
Enjoy this spoken-word affirmation I created today,
"THE UNIVERSAL INVOCATION OF LOVE AND SUPPORT"
A client came to me the other day with questions about the merging of eroticism and prayer. This is a radical topic, but what might surprise you is the way I answered him. I wanted to make sure he understood that the foundation of erotic prayer is the same as any other prayer--the HEART. In order for anything to happen in our world, we have to first create a space where we feel safe enough to affirm our own presence in the world, and to know that we are safe, affirmed, loved, and supported. What's more, we have to find a way to live our lives passionately engaged with what we love. That's a LOT! And it all begins with this affirmation, which I use, day and night. I hope you'll let it feed you and bring new light and life to your world. I suggest listening to it while lying down or sitting in a comfortable position where you can fully receive and enjoy its benefits even after the spoken word has concluded. Otherwise, even if you listen to this one in your car, it can still bring wonderful benefits--especially when you begin to speak it out loud yourself.
|Posted by Brad Amberheart on March 14, 2019 at 10:15 AM||comments (0)|
I'm a Tantrica. What that means is that I treat everything in my life as an experiment. Today, I would like you to join me in a brand-new experiment: Listen to this soundtrack from YouTube while you read these words, which I wrote while listening to the same thing you're listening to now.
In Tantra, we say "Everything is an Experiment". That's what my teacher taught me, and what his teacher taught him. Life is about finding new ways to experience things. What was once "routine" becomes a brand-new, life-giving experience. This applies to SEX, as well as walking, talking, and breathing. When, for instance, was the last time you walked through busy city streets while paying exquisite attention to every single breath you take? When was the last time you had dinner in the middle of your living room floor, naked, with your lover--or best friend?
Osho once said, "Routine is death." Try things a different way. If you always wear red, see what it's like to wear black. It might have bland results, but you won't know until you try. For all we know, black could be your new red.
Maybe this music sounds foreign, strange, or even weird? Maybe it delights your heart and inspires you? The secret is in noticing how you're inspired. Even what is uncomfortable and unfamiliar can give us valuable information. Taking time to notice what we don't like gives us valuable insight into what we really DO want! If we're resisting, then what are we resisting exactly? What makes us uncomfortable? After all, this is only a song. We're not stuck with this experience forever. Before we know it--maybe even just precisely at the moment when we start to say, "Hey, I kind-of am starting to like this rhythm and blending of voices"--it's over.
We might feel stuck in our job, or in our relaitonship. But all in all, like a song, this will be the only time you hear it, and then it's gone. Pretty soon you'll realize that your relationship, home, and job all are passing as well, in their own way. None of us will live on Earth in this body forever, right? All in all, it's time to pay attention and wake up to what's happening right now, because for better or for worse, it's passing by like water under the bridge.
We can learn to celebrate everything. Even the grief, sadenss, and anguish are another side of our passion. Yes, even grief, sadness, and anguish are signs that we passionately love someone or something enough to evoke such a strong emotion. Let it move! Let it be! Allow it to exist in a safe space, where your words and actions may bring no harm, but only serve to propel you to the next echelon of your existence. Amen, and Blessed Be.
Learn. Grow. Allow new insights. This is the message of Tantra.
Asheville, North Carolina, USA
14 March 2019
|Posted by Brad Amberheart on February 26, 2019 at 10:05 AM||comments (1)|
Pacific Coast, Oaxaca, Mexico--a memoir of divine ecstasy
"Why do people have sex?"
I was shocked to hear these words come out of my own mouth. Frankly, I was shocked I could still speak...surprised to hear my own voice at all. After all, I had literally let go of everything I considered to be "reality" for indefinite period of time, to be with him, here.
For who-knows-how long, I had been in the water with a man--a straight man, mind you--who proceeded to undulate me, gyrate me, and dance me to the end of love. We were practicing a potent aquatic healing modality known as AguaHara. The technique involves undulations in the water--and sometimes under the water--which are designed to open up the body and free the mind.
On the water we danced, in the water, and alas--under the water. I cannot explain what happened to me. All I know is I forgot my fucking name, and I reached a state in which nothing existed anyore--other than infinite love. Nothing existed, other than love...and yet everyone and everything I had ever known were there with me.
While I was under the water, I saw my Grandmother. She talked to me. I was a little boy again. I could smell the sweet welcoming aroma of her house. We played with flowers again. I could smell her greenhouse. Multiple realities were present at once. On one level of reality, here I am, being pulled through the water by a man I've never seen before. On another level of reality, he's pulling me through the water, and we have ALWAYS been lovers who dwell at the bottom of the sea. And on another level, I'm 5 years old, in my grandmother's greenhouse, smelling the flowers....
'WHO AM I?" I'm talking to God. God is as real as the flowers I smell and the flashing lights of brilliant sun and azure sea-color tones which flash behind my eyelids as my Lover-of-all-Time (the straight guy I just met) takes me on a transcendental journey through the water...
Who AM I? What does it mean to say "I"...
Mind gives up. Mind can no longer stay alive. The Old Me is dying. The New Me is even more Ancient than the "me" I ever knew. Nothing can stop this perfect divine peace from permeating my body. I am ALIVE with every fiber of my being. Every single cell is singing THANK YOU, GOD, FOR GIVING ME THIS LIFE! I LIVE...
And part of me dies there, on that beach...
He pulled me out of the water, up onto the sand. Like a fish out of water, I lay there, panting on the warm sand. Heart pounds and body shudders as tears stream down my face with the realization that I cannot--and will not--ever be the same again. I no longer worry about what I've lost. There is no space in my infinite consciousness for that busy old mind anymore. I'm just here, alive...forever...
"Why do people have sex?" Did I just say that? I hear the words part my salty lips, as I shudder with laughter and tears at the same time. The words catapult throught the air, softly and in slow motion, and land in the heart of my compadre who has just taken me on this journey through the ocean. I see my words touch his heart, and I watch them spread out through his whole body, until he is smiling and laughing all over, just like me...
Why do we have sex? Perhaps even more curious is why I...a man who holds the idenity of "Tantric Sex Coach"...a man whose daily live THRIVES on the celbration of euphoric, fucking FUN SEX could ever even ask such a ridiculous question!
I guess it all comes down to this: When you're in ecstasy, and you can see God, and every breath you take feels like flying and cutting somersaults over the tops of trees, then who cares how we got there? And if we can get there--to that place of ecstatic Oneness with everything--by immersing ourselves in the Water and letting go of all pre-conceptions of who we thought we were, then, well...what's there left to do, other than revel in it?
I've returned here, like a sea turtle to this beach on the coast of Oaxaca, Mexico, to come back home to the place of my Mother. I love SEX. I love MEN. I love ORGASMS. And well...now, my life's experience in each day is teaching me that ORGASM is a STATE OF BEING. I want to LIVE in a state of orgasm! Whether I'm screaming in ecstasy or wailing in the grief of life, I want to KNOW that I'm inseparable from the place I call HOME.
And so here I am, home. Home is never far away. It's in there, somewhere, right at the core of my heart. Some people say that the longest journey a man can take is the journey back home to his heart, and so...that is what I've come here to do, and here I am. Bless-It-Be, and Amen.
|Posted by Brad Amberheart on February 19, 2019 at 8:50 AM||comments (2)|
Santa Maria Tonameca, Oaxaca, Mexico
I was up before the sun.
Nothing could keep me from leaving my bed behind
leaving behind a fitful, restless night
filled with anxiety
of wanting to be more in life
of wanting to finish everything,
so that finally, somehow, at long last,
I could just…
“Let go!” everything within me screams,
as I bolt out the door,
leaving the tossed-about covers of my bed in a heap
grabbing nothing more than a pair of underwear and a sarong…
The streets of the village are as quiet as they get…
but that means a cacophony of birds
dogs running through the streets
people taking off to morning market on mopeds…
I run past them
past the last house
all the way…
My God…I know I’ve done this before…
out my door
past every house
past the very last one
I run faster,
as fast as my 46-year-old feet an carry me…
beating on the sand
faster than I ran from the bigger boys in school…
so fast that maybe all of the weights
of “getting shit done”
will finally be behind me
I don’t know how long I can hold it together you know.
I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold on
to the old way
Yeah, you know…
the OLD way…
of fitful, restless nights,
thinking about how much responsibilities we have…
thinking we can get them done in our sleep,
so maybe we can wake up
and enjoy our lives
You know, I’m always telling people, “Heaven isn’t a place we go when we die. Heaven is right here.”
But tossing and turning till the sun comes up ain’t heaven, now, IS IT?
I have to let go, really.
I have to let go of so many strongholds.
I have no choice.
I brought myself to this task…
of being baptized…
Yes, that’s right, I came to Mexico to be baptized…
not by a priest, mind you…
unless you count ME…
the priest who holds so many people in my arms…
I’m taking a course in an aquatic healing modality called AguaHara, on the Pacific Coast of Oaxaca, Mexico. The course lasts 2 weeks, 5 to 7 hours a day, mostly in a pool for demonstrating and practicing techniques, with special practice sessions in the ocean and lagoons. People from literally all over the world have come to take this course, and I, for one, have waited 9 years.
It’s a modality that frees the body, prompting a complete let-go of inhibitions. I like to say it’s like freeing oneself from the rigid constructs, and entering into a more fluid way of life. I mean…we all need structure, and we all need fluidity, but what I’m talking about is the BALANCE between the two which is—ultimately—Tantra.
Without banks, a river is just a puddle that spreads itself out so thin that it eventually just evaporates and disappears…
Somehow, I’ve finally gotten the clue, after a lifetime of searching, that if I let go just a little more, with focused will and intention, then life will perfectly organize itself.
|Posted by Brad Amberheart on February 17, 2019 at 8:55 AM||comments (1)|
Mexico City, Feb. 16, 2019
What I loved most about him was his fetish for tight binkini briefs...
Or...wait...let me start over...
What I really loved about him was the fact that his bedroom was a mess...there wasn't even any room on his bed for us to fuck
in between piles of...
It's fun to let go of it.
On one hand, there's the fucking exquisite delight of getting tied up...
and on the other hand...
There's the complete loss of all sense of being in control
which happens when you go to a guy's house you've never met
"You could have been KILLED," I could hear my friends saying. "Are you fucking KIDDING ME?"
What I know is that people watch way too much fucking television...
If only they could catch a glimpse into my world...
Everything in me said YES. His pictures, his voice on the phone...and most of all, that filthy fucking guardian angel of mine who never leads me astray. I'm also a big boy with lots of experience who happens to have really good street sense. I sent a WhatsApp message to a friend to let him know I was going on a hot sex date at a guy's house who had a great vibe and looked hot in his underwear, then headed out the door.
The action was hot and heavy.
He couldn't get enough of my crotch...groping, grasping, squeezing my balls through the tight underwear he had begged me to try on...a thong which couldn't possibly hold my trhobbing dick, but nonetheless, all he wanted was to feel me, throbbing, wearhing his ultra-gay tight lycra bikini...
I LOVED his black, beautiful curly hair, his hungry-animal face, his horny fucking eyes that couldn't get enough....
Like ravenous animals, we groped, growled, and nibbled one another' sflesh until we were both in a frenzy...and without a word--in Spanish or in English--we let ourselves surrender into being complete carnal PIGS who just didn't give a fucking damn how crude, vulgar, or down-right insensitive we looked...
We both loved every fucking dick-throbbing minute of it...
Thank you, GOD
for completley unpretentious, overtly crnal, nasty-ass fucking SEX
Gay-MEN, and HALLELUJAH!