13 Months

Yet more heat rises to add to the already sweltering heat and humidity of my September Spanish night, the air so still it is almost frozen in a moment of time, from the pale yellow glow of the Citronella candle (my warrior against the mosquitos) that glows quietly in the hammered aluminium bowl that sits of my very heavily tiled coffee table in my little two bedroom Spanish piso. I’m tempted to put on the fan, a ten euro bargain I found last winter at the local rastro (flea market), but I’m trying to keep the electric bill down. You’d think I’d be used to the heat by now, having arrived here 13 months ago, and yet this time of night… 23:35 by the clock on my laptop, feels the hottest. It’s a strange heat at night, a kind of dampness that seems to cling to one’s skin and permeate every pore, every inch of you. It is relentless, only to be escaped from temporarily by a night time walk along the promenade.

I love evening walks here. Back in London as a cyclist I used to love watching men as they cycled past, their legs powerful, beautiful… How I longed to run my tongue up the inside of their calves, their thighs to that place, to that scent of sweat and cock… Man smells… My nostrils pressed deep against that place between their balls and their ass. Lost in them. Here I watch the men as they wander up and down the promenade to escape the heat, their faces usually with bored expressions, their wives or girlfriends walking just a step ahead pushing smiling children in expensive prams, they have what they want.. Offspring, a grandchild to show off at the next family gathering.. But he… He is still so full of lust and energy, his legs brown and lean and long, his feet.. perfection in his trendy sandals, a far cry from the sad dark sock covered feet of the sandal wearing English man on holiday in Margate or Southend-on-Sea.

So Yes… I have a leg and foot fetish.. But only particular feet you see. The soft, smoothness of Spanish skin is just so beautiful, so sensual… But I’m getting away from the point of my story tonight.. 13 Months in Spain… What is it really like??

Well… it’s a fucking blast at first. To go from a damp, over-priced studio over a car wash in London Bridge where the only source of comfort is the moderately priced bottle of Tempranillo and the marked down Cottage Pie from the Sainsbury’s local and the occasional hand job from Grindr to distract one’s attention from the fact that one is never going to be able to afford one’s own flat but instead has to deal with the dodgy Cypriot landlord who hasn’t renovated or painted the flat since 1975 and insists on telling you his entire family history each and every time you meet.. all for the modest price of just £870 per month (cockroaches,mould and temperamental electrics included in the cost!) to a paradise of swimming pools, sunshine, palm trees, big Spanish cocks and very willing assholes, bars with glory holes, cheap booze, cheap fags, cheap rent (in comparison – 350 euros a month for a two bed flat) and a much more relaxed and less draconian way of life.

However, the downside of arriving in Spain to start a new life in July is that one must then go through the first winter in Spain. And oh boy is that different! I never realised I’d need a scarf! Yep it gets cold! And without heating a Spanish flat can get pretty chilly.

The promenade clears of people and you find yourself along, having your coffee in the morning in your jumper and shorts waiting for the sun’s rays to warm up the street.

It’s pretty lonely at times, and despite the Facebook posts wishing you well and the word of encouragement from people, it’s hard. I felt like an alien for the longest time. And I started learning Spanish years ago so when I arrived here I could at least have basic conversations. But yes it is tough going at times.

But then the Spring arrived and the people started to come again. At first the older Norwegians doing their tours past my building as the pebbled street leads up to the church square that sits high above Altea and looks down upon the vast expanse of blue that is the Med. And then the fiestas, the endless church bells ringing and the fireworks and the playing of horns and singing and chanting (only some of which I understand). I must say at first I found the fiestas a pain in the ass as I just couldn’t sleep through the noise but now I love the passion and intensity of the celebration. These guys sure know how to party. However I haven’t really slept properly in about 4 months I must say!

And the Summer.. The heat. The sex… I’ve never sweated so much in my life.. I’m mostly top these days and I do love fucking but my god 38 degrees almost killed me! Especially as I take ages to cum, great for the bottom but not so great for me, we are talking rivers of sweat and near cardiac arrest! I was bottom for years before and at times I am jealous of you guys! Being a top in this heat is hard work, fun, but hard work! It reminds me of the one session of hot Bikram yoga I did once while living in Hampstead.. I’m looking forward to fucking in 20 degrees!!

So where are we…? I must admit this is one of those slightly drunken blogs.. Sometimes it’s interesting just to write after a few glasses of wine and see what comes out. So what is the moral of this story.. Well… Yes living in Spain is fun, it’s is incredibly challenging. I had 3 days of plumbers a few weeks ago (and not in a good way) none of whom spoke any english and I am proud to say I have now learnt that ‘grifo’ means ‘tap’ but my toilet still leaks!!!

Perhaps in a way this is my admission that I am a real person. Amongst all the perfectly photoshopped torsos on that glowing Grindr grid some of us are just regular human beings. I don’t spend every second of every hour at the gym, in fact due to 4 years working as a life model in London and a now quite dodgy knee I rarely go to the gym favouring instead a quick swim in the sea most evenings. I drink alcohol, I make mistakes, I forget people’s names (one of my worst habits), I forget to buy cat food and have to dash to the supermarket to buy some for my rather pissed off and impatient Bengal Oscar. He always forgives me though and I hope you will too.. You see I think we should embrace our imperfections and indeed the imperfections of life in general. So if you’re planning on moving to Spain and changing your life just remember that plumbing breaks here too! But your ‘Grifo’ can always be fixed and back to perfect working order… 😉


How to have Better, Cleaner Sex…


So I would describe myself as mostly active these days. In the past I was passive for many years and I think that the experience of being in both roles has given me a unique perspective on gay sex. Gay penetrative sex is completely different from Straight sex in that we really have to educate ourselves and learn how to have better sex through the experiences we have. Over the years and especially in my days working as an escort I picked up many tips and learned through mistakes.

As a bottom I was very conscious about being clean during sex. The knowledge that I was clean meant that I could relax more, enjoy sex more and I knew that my partner would enjoy sex more. I saw it as being a responsible bottom. Learning how to douche properly and quickly meant that I could prepare within just a few minutes and focus more on my partner.

I guess I transitioned to being mostly top after the breakup of my last longterm relationship about 4 years ago. As a top I try my best to be sensitive, caring and sensual, everything that I expected from my active partners in the past. And I assume that my passive partners would prepare properly for sex in order to avoid any messy and uncomfortable situations. However I have found that this is not the case. On occasions I have been fingering a guy during foreplay, I feel something, and I diplomatically suggest that he have a quick ‘shower’, he showers but doesn’t douche and 10 mins later it is a mess! Maybe I should be more straight forward and say ‘You need to douche’ but I just assume that guys would know to do this. But I guess if a guy has not had a lot of experience of getting fucked then perhaps he just doesn’t realise that he has to clean himself properly beforehand.

So I thought about writing a step by step guide to douching quickly and properly, I even considered making a video to demonstrate how I go about this. But thankfully a few guys on YouTube already have! So I wanted to share them with you. The first video is in German but there are subtitles available which you can turn on in the video settings at the bottom, the second uses an attachment connected to the shower but you can just as easily unscrew the shower head and use the pipe, just remember you want to water pressure to be low and Luke warm or cold and you don’t need to insert the hose into your ass, just hold it against the hole and the pressure of the water push it inside, hold the water for a moment then sit on the toilet and let it flow out. One tip I discovered is that once you have douched a few times, put some lube on your fingers and ass and insert your finger to have a feel around and check that everything is clean, it only takes a second and will make you feel more relaxed knowing that everything is clean and good to go.

Your active partner will be grateful, the sex you have will be better and there won’t be any unexpected messy surprises! I hope this blog has been useful and you all have better, cleaner more passionate and sensual sex. Aaron x

The Other Side of the Bed.

I’ve been in two relationships with my “boyfriend”. I put the word ‘boyfriend’ in inverted commas because I have discovered over recent months just how destructive, restrictive and damaging such labels can be. So why two relationships? Well, I’ll tell you.

The first relationship began when we met one warm evening last September. We immediately found that we had an amazing connection and understanding that far transcended mere attraction. He is handsome, intelligent, sensitive, caring, kind, passionate, sensual and most importantly he gets me.

My experiences of previous relationships had left a bitter taste in my mouth, a defensiveness and need for self protection against any further pain. I fell in love with this man but was filled with fear and paranoia. Despite our beautiful connection my fears grew to a level that was so great that I almost lost him. You see deep down, despite my having rebelled against everything I was taught about love and relationships as a child, I realised that I had been conditioned to think in a certain way. I had been conditioned to believe in monogamy and that any other concept was a threat and something to be avoided at all costs.

Despite our amazing connections there were flaws. A growing unrest between us and my inability to see the truth, to see him as a person, an individual with desires, fears, issues, with his own thoughts and his own life. My inability to see this man as the person he actually was was down to the fact that once again, as in every relationship I had ever been in, I had projected this huge fantasy of the perfect relationship onto this man, and when he did not live up to this perfect image I was left heartbroken and disillusioned. Worse still I had ignored my own flaws, pretending they did not exist, pretending that I had not made mistakes, not wanting to accept responsibility for my own actions. How can we possibly expect perfection from our lover when we ourselves are imperfect? It was a tangled mess. It was time for me to face my fears once and for all and to overcome them.

I could go into great detail regarding our infidelities but that’s not the point of my story.
We came to a cross roads about two months ago, we had a choice to communicate and to try to create a new, stronger, more honest relationship or to crash and burn. Thankfully, together, we avoided the latter. We started to talk honestly about who we are and what we really wanted. And so our second relationship began…

In the past I would have run scared from this kind of situation, but not his time. Ultimately I did not want to lose such a special person. I realised that this gave us an amazing and powerful opportunity to reconnect in a very different way. So we talked and talked and talked and talked. With every conversation we got to know each other better. We talked about everything and I discovered this person I thought I knew so well was a far richer and more beautiful tapestry than I could have ever imagined. To really and truly respect and admire another person and to allow them to be themselves is one of the most rewarding things one can do in life, not just for the other person, but for yourself. We have allowed each other the freedom and space to express ourselves sexually without fear of judgement or criticism and to free ourselves of the guilt which really never did belong to us in the first place. We are men after all so why deny ourselves pleasure?

He has become so much more than a ‘boyfriend’. He is my best friend, my confidant, my support, my rock and the person with whom I can talk to about anything. We have freed ourselves from the constraints of expectations and the restrictions of acceptability and found a new open, honest and enriching environment in which we can both flourish. The removal of labels has allowed us to see each other as human beings.

My parents have been married for more than 50 years now and yet I do not believe they have ever had the kind of open and honest conversations that we have had in the past eight weeks. We support each other, we love each other and we work together to strengthen the foundations of our new relationship.

Facing my fears of infidelity, abandonment, deceit and working with reality has freed me from the prison I had created in my mind through negative thinking and I am grateful. Sex is sex but that connection you have with someone you love is far greater and given love, care, effort, patience and above all understanding it can and will grow and become more beautiful each and every day. My rose tinted spectacles have been binned for good and now I only ever wear sunglasses.


It’s been some time since I have written a blog, so I thought why not tell you a little bit about the weekend I have just shared with my wonderful boyfriend P who inspires me more than he knows.

I hope you enjoy it…
(Sending Love and Light from Spain.)

His hand melted into mine as we walked along the beach. The blue of the Mediterranean intensified by the cloudless Spanish skies above and the heat of the January Sun warming our skin. He needed to feel the sun on his skin and the sand under his feet, to escape the cold and ice of the English winter. I had not seen him since his last trip in December and his touch made my body ache to be inside him, to feel his smooth warmth sliding down over me until I was lost deep inside of him, lost inside that place of pleasure. To be separated by 1000 miles made our desire for each other grow and burn inside of us, desperate for sweet release.

Despite the many lovers who had come before, never had I felt such natural desire, such intense passion, such love. Each time our bodies came together, moving, sliding, writhing in perfect rhythm it was more beautiful and profound than the last. Time seemed to stand still, the moments of pleasure seeming to slow the spin of the earth, my aching cock buried deep inside him, his body pressed against mine and our mouths locked together, our wet tongues rolling around each other until we reached that point of no return and our bodies erupted with desire.

I now truly understand what it is to Make Love. The connection both physical and emotional burns like the brightest flame. It is beautiful, sensual, empowering. Sex becomes more than just a simple act of lust, more than a necessity, it transforms into a many layered expression of a multitude of emotions. Happiness, pleasure, love, desire, compassion, empathy, sensuality, intimacy all swirling around inside of us and around us. It is energy in it’s purest form.

That evening lying sprawled naked on a sea of soft warm blankets and cushions, candles and incense glowing around us, we drank and talked and laughed, our hands exploring each others naked bodies. I warmed up some lube and gently stroked his hole, easing a finger inside to gently stroke his prostate. He groaned with pleasure and excitement as I slipped a second finger inside. My cock stiffened and longed to be enveloped inside his silky tunnel. P laid back, his handsome face smiling and his beautiful green eyes gazing deep into mine as I knelt between his legs, my cock standing up between us glistening with lube, his ass inviting me inside. I eased myself into him and he moaned with pleasure, impaled upon my shaft, my hands holding onto his shoulders pulling him further down onto me. We rocked together by candle light and my heart felt like it would explode. I wanted to give him more, to fill his body with more love than he had ever known…

I slowly withdrew my cock, not wanting to cum yet, and replaced it with two fingers, then lubing up the rest of my hand I began to gently work open his aching, hungry hole. He took a deep sniff of poppers and easily sucked me into him. Moving slowly and carefully inside him, finding my way around inside his beautiful ass, I made my hand into a fist and rolled my knuckles around against the walls of his hole. He groaned with desire grinding his ass against my fist. After another deep sniff of poppers my fingers found there way further inside, moving slowly, carefully deeper into the tunnel and through his second opening until half my forearm was engulfed inside of him.

Overcome with pleasure, love and the intense feelings he pumped his cock and sprayed his juice all over his belly. I loved seeing my beautiful boy convulsing with such a powerful orgasm and, withdrawing slowly from inside him, I took my cock in my slippery hand and pumped my load over his adding to the hot juice of our love making. My body shaking with desire and relief I looked into his eyes and my whole body glowed with love for my beautiful boy.

I miss you baby. Te Quiero Mucho x

My Photography

Hi Guys, I’m sorry for the very long silence on my blog. I’m afraid I wasn’t feeling very creative over the Christmas period! However I would like to wish you all a very Happy New Year for 2016 and I thought I’d show you some photos I’ve taken over the past few days. I hope you enjoy them. Sending Love and Light, Aaron. x



imageHave you ever lived somewhere that just seems to fill you with light? A place where the very streets seems to ripple under your feet and the energy feels calm and peaceful and just right.. Well, I found a new home just a few days ago.. I found a beautiful two bedroom flat in an old building in Altea’s old town (or perhaps it found me) and so after a month of stress and hotel hopping I now feel very much at ease and more relaxed. I wanted to let you all know out there in Cyber space as you may have been wondering why there were no new blog entries for some time. Now all is well..

I realised even more clearly through this process of flat hunting in a foreign country that positive energy can work wonders in our daily lives. We make choices every day to surround ourselves with either positive or negative energy and we feel and see the results of those choices manifest into either positive or negative outcomes. Recently I’ve been having conversations about sex and exploration. How does a couple explore sex in a safe, fun and nondestructive way? It really challenged my own beliefs about sex and relationships. I realised that I had had many negative experiences in the past which to this day had been influencing my ideas and my perceptions. I believe that by choosing to only allow positive energy into our lives, this energy can then permeate through into every aspect of our lives and can then manifest itself into positive outcomes and experiences.

Take group sex for example. I’m sure many of us have had negative experiences of this I know I certainly have. I was once invited to an 8 man sex party in North London. I remember the atmosphere was pretty dark to begin with, one guy clearly so high on crystal meth he had no idea where he was or what was being done to him. There was no real care or compassion but a feeling of every man for himself, only really concerned with his own pleasure at any cost. The atmosphere was not friendly and relaxed but instead was negative. I left shortly after arriving without really so much as a goodbye from anyone there. It did not feel satisfying or good in any way.

Simply put, there was no connection. For me, theses days, I need there to be a connection in order to really enjoy sex. I find it far more pleasurable and fulfilling when I respect the other person. Sensuality is just as important as Spunk! I would rather not have sex at all than to have what we often refer to as ‘Bad Sex’, what I now realise is sex without positivity, without care, without compassion and respect. Sex without connection is simply using someone else’s body to masturbate and for me leaves me feeling cold, empty and dissatisfied..

So. For any young guys out there reading this, or indeed anyone who has chosen to explore sex, my advice would be to make a conscious choice to have only positive experiences. Choose to surround yourself by people who will look after you, who will protect you and with whom you can have safe, sensual, horny and most of all satisfying sex with. If a situation feels bad then it is not the right situation for you it’s that simple. Sex can be wonderful, fun and leave you feeling great if you make the right choices!

There is often a preconceived notion that Fetish, BDSM, Bondage, Role Play, Fisting are all slightly negative and dark, how can there be positive energy in these circumstances? I believe that sexual experiences, no matter how extreme, can be shared with guys who will care for you and protect you in a friendly and nourishing atmosphere. Even a sex act that explores pain to some degree can be performed with care and love. Positive energy manifests itself in the desire to give our partner pleasure, to make them feel safe and secure, to give them a positive experience and to allow their minds to become free and to explore in a safe and protective enviroment.

So no matter what kind of sex you enjoy, surround yourself with positivity and it will be a million times better!

Sending Love and Light from my new home in Spain, Aaron. 😉 x


Where does personal responsibility end and human compassion begin? Let’s say you meet a guy on Grindr or Scruff. You invite him back to yours. You give him some spliff, G, MDMA, a giant line of K. Perhaps you smoke some Crystal Meth. You have experience of taking these drugs, you’ve done it many times, he hasn’t, it’s perhaps only his first or second experience. He gets ill, he freaks out, he’s paranoid, he scared, not knowing how to cope with the feelings he is experiencing. You’re pissed off because instead of having the mindblowing fuck you were expecting, instead here you are babysitting this stranger who can’t handle their drugs. So what do you do? Do you help him, comfort him, tell him you’ll look after him and tell him everything will be ok? Do you look after him? Or perhaps you kick him out, maybe if he’s lucky you call him a cab, and you go back on Grindr determined not to waste to buzz and the night. And on you go to the next and the next and the next, not even remembering his name. But I assure you, he will never forget yours..

I was one of the lucky ones. My first proper experience of drugs was with my ex-husband. It was before we moved to London. Shortly after we met he had invited me to go on holiday with him and several mates to Ibiza for a few weeks. I was just 21 and very green, having had hardly any experience. He held my hand the whole time, literally. We went to clubs, he would give me a pill, carefully explaining exactly what the effects would be, he would hold me close to him while we danced, the drug gradually working it’s way through my body. He made sure I drank enough water, whispered loving and kind words in my ear the whole time, protected me, made me feel like I was the only one in that club. After the party had ended he would call a cab, take me home, never took his eyes off me. You see he wanted to share that wonderful experience of the drugs, the music, the atmosphere with me. But most importantly he wanted me to be safe and to have a positive experience. It was wonderful. I was lucky.

These days, many years later, I very rarely partake in anything other that red wine or the odd gin and tonic. Fifteen years of living in London does tend to wear one out a bit! But for many years I took drugs recreationally. After many experiences, many trips to Ibiza, many nights of clubbing, I built up a bit of a resistance to the effects. I found I could predict the effects and so could carefully measure how much I took, always in control of the effects. And often I would end up looking after someone who either hadn’t taken anything before, perhaps at a party where another guy had carelessly given that person a huge line of K (thinking it was coke) or had measured out too much G, or someone who simply wasn’t used to taking that particular drug and was having a bad reaction. And always, I remembered the care my ex husband had shown me, and I tried to look after that person with care, compassion and patience, knowing that they were scared, confused or worse still completely unaware of what they were doing or the harm they were potentially putting themselves into.

You see, it’s all very well being a ‘Top’ at a sex party. You focus on keeping it together, staying hard, wanting to fuck all night long, wanting to satisfy those greedy bottoms and make them happy. But for the passive guys, they often are taken advantage of. They are fed tons of drugs until they are in an almost unconcious state, and they are fucked and used, often by many guys, often these days without condoms as it’s hard to keep ‘hard’ when taking drugs, sniffing poppers and trying to get that condom on. The next day, if they’re aware of it, they may rush to the local STD clinic for an emergency treatment of PEP, if not they will worry themselves sick until the next HIV test and Sexual Health checkup not knowing what has been transferred into their bodies. Often not even being able to remember what has occurred that night or how many guys have fucked them. In worst cases they may be traumatised, unable to have another sexual experience for many months or in some cases many years, terrified that the same thing may happen again.

This sounds like a lecture I know. But all I’m trying to say is look after each other. If he’s a bit too pissed or out of it either get him home safe or just look after him, not because it’s your responsibility, but because it is the decent thing to do. Wouldn’t you like the same to be done for you? I know I would..

Sending Love and Light. Buenas Noches. Aaron. X


I wrote a blog the other day about apps and how they can often lead to poor communication and about lack of good old fashioned face to face conversation these days which I believe to be the best form without question.

I wanted to continue this discussion as I very recently had an incident of miscommunication using Whatsapp. Let me preface this by saying that I think modern technology can be a wonderful thing and a very useful tool. I recently met someone very special who lives in England. I live in Spain. So communication would be a tricky and expensive thing where it not for apps such as Whatsapp which I tend to favour. I prefer Facetime for talking as it seems to work better with my ipad, however Whatsapp is great for sending the odd quick message to let your loved one know you are thinking about them, what you are doing, to send a picture of a short video clip (usually of my willy!) or just to simply wish each other Goodnight with a kiss or two.

So the other night we had an audio chat via Facetime. All was well. We chatted for half an hour or so about our day, what was happening, how we were both feeling and so on. We were both calm and enjoying the sound of each other’s voices safe in the knowledge that all was well in the world. Having ended the Facetime conversation, we then continued our chat via text message on Whatsapp. A few misunderstandings later, it descended into an anxious, worried mess! Both of us had misunderstood what the other had written, reading into the simple lines of text far more than was intended, insecurities took hold and before we knew it we were in a stalemate position. It was horrible. Everything had gone so well with our ‘real’ Facetime chat, but now it was chaos and confusion!

So the next day, after a goodnight’s sleep, we talked about it properly, using Facetime audio chat, and we decided to limit our Whatsapp useage to simply voice messages in the morning and a quick Goodnight message at night. During the day, after he was finished work, we would talk properly using Facetime. And you know what, it worked! No more confusion, misunderstanding or second guessing. We simply talk and listen. No drama, no paranoia, no second guessing what the other means, just conversation. You see when you are separated by 1000 and not even in the same time zone it can challenging to say the least. You can’t just drive down the road to see each other, give each other a hug and say ‘Everything’s going to be ok’. You have to do these things with words, comfort each other and support each other with only the sound of your voice.

So it got me to thinking about all the many exchanges I have had using gay apps over the past few years since they first came into use. I use gay apps all the time to communicate with men and tell them about what I do. Some exchanges are great, friendly, positive. Whilst others are vile. People say nasty things, criticism, misinterpret words. I have been yelled at with text and called a thousand names under the sun. And I often think to myself, would these guys say these things to my face? Or is it just that we can hide behind these apps, just a faceless torso or in many cases no photo at all, just a tiny dark square with insults appearing from nowhere! Ultimately it is hurtful and upsetting.

Young gay men have probably only ever known the smart phone and recently the app as a means of communication. This is how their world works. They have not had the benefit of growing up in a world where one picked up the telephone or met someone in a pub to sit and have that nerve wracking but exciting and flirtatious first chat. How many miscommunications and misunderstandings take place through Grindr each and every second of every day?

I wonder how much damage is done to young minds in this way? I hope that doesn’t sound condescending. I just remember being 16,17,18 years old and how I took on board so much of what was said to me. It was hurtful and stayed with me for years. We already live in a world of insecurity, body image issues, pressure from both within and without the gay community and of top of all of that we have to deal with the potential minefield that is trying to communicate with each other via apps where one cannot tell the mood of the other person, cannot hear their voice, intonation, inflection. It is a stripped down means of communication that is just so open to abuse and misunderstandings that can escalate into arguments, nasty comments or worse still psychological damage in some cases. Just look at cases where teenagers have commited suicide due to online bullying. It’s sad, very sad that our world has come to this. And many of these issues could be avoided by simply talking to one another like people instead of robots.

So. I suggest we talk more. If not face to face, at least voice to voice. It’s so much better. From now on I shall be using Whatsapp sparingly and I shall look forward to receiving that proper good old fashioned voice call. I choose to fill my virtual world with words of support, encouragement and above all Love….

Sending Love and Light from Spain. Aaron x

Life as a Sex Worker…


Sitting over my coffee, in one of my usual places, it occurred to me that those of you with 9-5 jobs on your way to work, perhaps in your car listening to morning radio or thinking about the lunchtime meeting, wondering what to get for supper this evening or when the dry cleaning needs to be picked up, have no idea of what this world, the world of those who work in the oldest profession in the world, the sex workers, the dream weavers who bring to life the fantasies of those who pay for their services, is really like. Well, for three and a half years, I was one of them. I was an escort.

Contrary to popular belief, I was not hooked on drugs, working for a pimp or agency who would take 40% of my earnings, abused as a child, battered, living in a hovel in Earl’s Court, clubbing every single night. In fact at the time my time was spent looking after the little two bedroom house my husband and I shared, gardening, cooking, designing websites, playing the cello, taking photographs, organising dinner parties and bar-b-ques for the neighbours, visiting art galleries, going to the theatre and listening to Maxwell Hutchinson, famous London historian, on BBC Radio London. My ex husband is a great reader and a huge science fiction fan so we would spend hours every saturday in either Foyles or Borders in London’s Soho, him searching for the next Dan Simmons novel and I in either the Computer, Language or Art section or pouring over the latest copy of Practical Photography. Apart from the fact that I sold sex, my life was pretty normal. We’d sit in front of the tele at night watching Heros or Doctor Who, or some drama on BBC, talk about work, get ironing done for the morning and have a bottle of wine with the neighbours.

I worked as an independant escort, usually advertising through Gaydar as that was the most popular website at that time, before the arrival of Grindr, Hornet, Scruff to name but a few. I was not hugely successful I must say, the most clients I would see in any one week being 3 or 4. But it fitted easily into my life and my husband was a very understanding man realising that the ‘work me’ and the ‘real me’ where two very different characters.

At that time I kept a diary and after each meeting with a client, on the central line travelling home, I would write a quick description of what took place, no names or identifying details of course, but merely a description of the scenario, the sex, how I felt at the time and anything else I wanted to note down to be later fleshed out into a story. I had planned to write a book, not the usual glossy wank material that so many people had written before me, but an honest account, warts and all, to give readers an insight into what that world is really like, from the perspective of the escort themselves. Perhaps one day I shall share some of those details with you, but not in this blog.

You see, I wanted to answer the question I have been asked so many times in the past.. Why? Why did you do that ‘job’? If life was so ‘normal’ why the need to work in such a seemingly dark and subversive world? Hummmm…..

So I’m gonna pose that question to myself in this blog and see what answers come to me.

Number one, I wanted to write about sex work. I had been photographing escorts for a gay magazine for some months before and their stories fascinated me. I would ask them questions like, ‘How much money do you make per hour?’, ‘Do you enjoy it?’, ‘Don’t you feel bad afterwards?’, ‘Have you ever been beaten up, attacked, raped?’ and most importantly.. ‘What are the clients really like?’. And you know what they told me? ‘You gotta eat the steak to know what it tastes like?’.
So I guess in the interest of getting to the truth of this world I had become so fascinated with, I decided to try for myself.

I had posed for gay porno mags when I was in my early twenties, I loved sex, had had many threesomes and experiences with my husband who was older, more experienced and into the clubbing scene, had even been in a low budget (very low budget!) porn film and so after much discussion at home I decided that the only way I could really write about this world was to experience it for myself. So I began..

The idea of being able to earn £120 per hour and £500 for an overnight was very appealing! It was a way of being able to have more time to devote to my home life, to my design work, to study, and it meant that I got to be in control of my own life rather than having to answer to a boss who dictated my every action. It was a way to be free and to explore myself. My sexuality.

Was it easy to start? Well no is the simple answer. For in this business there can no training, no trial period, no support network, because only you really know and understand what it is like to be in those situations. You have to wing it! You learn on the job and believe me it is one steep learning curve! You make mistakes, you get frustrated, you adjust how you do things and each and every experience brings new insights, new ways of doing things. It is an education that’s for sure!

It taught me a lot about sex, about business, about psychology, and it created a character who I could use to explore the darker more sensual side of myself. Certainly for me there is an element of exhibitionism in sex work, and indeed in the work that I do now. It is an artform, a performance, probably the closest I will get to acting. It allows you to explore many hidden aspects of oneself for an hour at a time and to be paid handsomly to do so.

Many of the skills I learned as a sex worker I now use in my role as a masseur. Pleasure is an art. But more importantly it teaches you empathy, understanding, compassion. You see fundamentally those who pay for sex do so in order to not be judged. I believe the gay community, certainly in London for example, have in many cases lost the ability to look after and support one another. Everything now is so categorized. Bears, Twinks, Jocks, Leather, Rubber, BDSM, Chems, Gym, Older 4 Younger. We have lost the art of communication. Conversations no longer begin with ‘Hi my name is..’ but rather ‘Into?’. Many men are simply concerned with their own pleasure. It’s too easy these days to be cruel to one another, to simply tap that ‘Block’ button on our iphone screen if we the other person does not offer us exactly what we want, does not fit the perfect image that we think we want to obtain. Rather than get to know each other we crave instant gratification with no repercussion. Personal responsibility has been ditched in favour of what often just using another’s body to masturbate. It is a sad reality of this modern world that we live in. Sex without intimacy or connection.

And this is why I believe that for many people the gay scene can be an intimidating and unfriendly place, especially if you do not have the perfect six pack, the perfect face, the perfect 10″ cock, the perfect gym membership, the perfect clothes, the perfect swanky flat, the perfect cocktail of drugs at hand. The search for sex often leads to the escort pages of magazines and the ability to pay for an be in control of one’s pleasure and satisfaction. I myself have hired a sex worker so I too know what it’s like to simply want to explore my pleasure without judgement. To cut through all the bullshit and to be able to have the kind of sexual experience that I want to have and to feel good about myself. Yes folks, I have been there too.

So, how do I conclude this blog entry. I guess what I’m trying to get across is that ultimately we are all just human beings, all trying to get through life the best way we can, so lets try to get rid of the judgement, of the second guessing and preconceptions. Just live and let live. And the next time you see the handsome face and chisled body of an escort staring back at you from a flashing little screen or the pages at the back of a magazine just remember he is someone’s son, someone’s boyfriend, someone’s husband. There is a real person with a real life behind that glossy image, the big dick, the wicked smile. Treat him well, and I hope that you will be treated well yourself. For sex work can be a very positive thing if both parties respect and look after each other.

It’s as simple as that…

Sending Love and Light from Spain. Aaron x


When I was a kid growing up in a little fishing village in Northern Ireland in the 1980’s and early to mid 1990’s, this word is what we would have referred to as ‘faith’. I’m sure most of you with a religious background or who hold religious beliefs in adulthood understand the concept of faith. One must simple ‘believe’ that things will be ok, that a sickness will be cured, that a problem will be solved, that money will be provided, that a business will be successful, that an ‘answer’ will be given. Nowadays I call it ‘hope’, for it has been many years since I have set foot in a church, let alone knelt to say my prayers at night, and so I have to describe this concept in a different way, in a way that allows it to fit into my modern adult life in a way that seems acceptable.

I may well be getting myself into deep water here so I shan’t delve any further into the religious discussion, but instead I’ll simply tell you what I do in my own life and perhaps some of you may have done the very same thing.

You see, I do believe in positivity, in belief, in hope. Each morning I say to myself ‘I am safe in the universe and all life loves and supports me..’. This is one of Louise Hay’s beautiful, simple, yet powerful affirmations, one of my favourites which I have written in my wallet, on a tiny crumpled piece of paper, stuffed inside the outer sleeve so that each day when I pay for my morning coffee I see it and I say it to myself. And you know I think it has power because I believe in it, because I choose it to be true for me.

Everyday I hope that that day will be good to me. I hope that people will be nice and treat me kindly and with respect. I hope that I will do my job to the best of my ability and that I will be able to connect with more and more people. I hope that friends and family and loved ones will be safe and well and happy. I hope that the sun will shine and the moon will rise high in the sky and that I will sleep well, safe in the knowledge that another wonderful new day will arrive tomorrow.

This may sound silly. But it helps. That positivity helps to create more and more positivity in my life. There may only be subtle changes. For example I played to Euro Millions lottery for the first time in Spain last week and despite how much I ‘hoped’ I would win the jackpot, my numbers did not come up. But I did have two wonderful clients today for which I am very grateful.

Louise Hay talks about an ‘Attitude of Gratitude’. She says that the universe loves gratitude so whatever you have, no matter how much or how little, we should be grateful. If we are looking for a new flat as I am currently we should bless our current home with love and gratitude, for if we hate where we are now then more than likely we will hate the new home we move to. So, I try to apply this principal. I do my best, no matter what the problems and frustrations, to be grateful for where I am. I focus on what I want for the future and I ‘hope’ or perhaps it’s better to say I ‘believe’ that things will improve.

What I have found in recent years is that the more I focus on good things, the more good things I see in the world around me. Granted, this morning for example, when I was writing my blog on Depression, I seemed to be able to focus on was the negative things, because that’s what I was needed to write about, wanting to try to explain what it is like to be affected by that. But, I wanted to write something more ‘hopeful’, more ‘positive’ tonight. Because it is only through focusing on the positive things that we are able to have more positivity in our lives. So I hope this helps. Like I said before in previous blogs we all have control over our thoughts. We can choose to be positive or negative in any given situation.

So why not choose to hope for the best possible outcome….

Sending Love and Light from Spain. Aaron x