Hi! My name is Ashton Labruce. I am a person who considers SEX as a means of expression: an ART such as music and sculpture. I enjoy exhibitionism and I don’t believe nudity should ever be subject to censorship. Human shape is so beautiful!
I consider myself a guy next door, but I’m very adventurous and open to experimenting new things. I was given the gift of autofellatio. Furthermore, I have trained to do some Hands-Free play, handstands etc.
I find male and female bodies truly fascinating. I know society’s stance about men who think that way, but I fight against such an antique stigma.
I like luxury, glamour, quality and class. I enjoy porn with an actual story. The best stimulation is inside our minds.
Thank you for visiting my website.
My new novel is taking shape for this early 2022!
Click HERE to learn more about my new project: I am writing a novel. I am making a contribution to the world: a novel about the matters that I am so passionate about. I’m reviving the XV century with a fictional character that will lead us through a realistic true: the male prostitution during medieval times.
I don’t approve of censorship. Our lives are so short as to believe that closing our eyes makes “bad things” around us disappear. Let alone the fact that many of the things that we called “bad” are even the perfect nature with which we were all created: our bodies.
It is outrageous and sad at the same time to see how this has become a culture. The culture that creates, promotes, and endorses “morbid” feelings around things.
I can’t so I don’t stand for those beliefs. I have a small contribution to the world; something that makes me feel that my life is worth it. Such small contribution I offer to society is to open your eyes and find beauty in our true nature, both physically and mentally. There is goodness in every person. There is forgiveness. There is love all around us. Some people prefer to find ugliness and imperfection. Whilst they do exist, that isn’t all there is to say about what’s around us.
Travelling and love can set us free 🙂
One of the best things about writing —or about writing beautifully, at least— is that you always get to say the last word. A talented painter painting the portrait of his wife won’t ever be questioned if he’s right. He is just assumed to have done it right. I learnt in my philosophy studies that we, as humans, are like that. The magic of writing is the automatic rightness that you’re granted as such. Who can refute Dostoevski, Tolstoy, or Nabokov? It’s called the writers’ privilege. Hence, writing can be so addictive to the point of reaching compulsive writing.
For those who don’t suffer from it, it is hard to believe, let alone understand, that compulsive writing exists. As its name implies, it is a form of compulsion: the irresistible urge to do something. Compulsive writing is the necessity to write. As all compulsions, it has its origin in an obsession, which is way more complex to understand than the act itself: the thought, the idea in our minds that makes you feel that you have to write. It isn’t easy to escape obsessive compulsive behavior. The feeling of reward one feels after completing the compulsion (that is, writing) is so high that the brain actively looks for it. Think of it as a drug: it is no different than drinking coffee. Coffee addicts can’t think of living without it. They make all sorts of excuses to justify why they have to drink. In the same way, compulsive writers try to find a justification for their compulsive disorder. In both scenarios the truth is that we can dispense with it. We don’t need coffee, and neither do we need to write.
And yet there is this false feeling of achievement in writing. It is addictive because there is always something to write about. No matter how far your novel is. No matter how many novels you publish. There is such a vast number of words that they can be arranged in many more ways than we could ever think of. There they are, wild and free in the dictionary and the thesaurus, waiting for you to group them together and build beautiful compositions with them. There’s always a thought to share, a feeling to express, a story to be told. There is fulfillment in each piece of literature written, indeed, but there are more ideas to be developed than there is time (life) to write them
Some people consider compulsive writing as a sign of loneliness. The need to write seems to be based on the inability to share our thoughts with others in our in-person life. Hence, we find shelter in paper and pens. You write on and on. You write until you’re tired. But why do ideas keep on coming? Others suggest that, rather than loneliness, it is the wish to be somewhere else instead. There is a big truth in it. Writing opens the doors towards a different universe, to reminiscences from the past, or predictions of the future. But the biggest quality of writers is being great listeners. We cannot write about what we don’t know. We can make use of fiction but there will ever be some hidden element of truth in it, built in our minds according to what we are familiar with. Hence, being a writer is being a listener.
That being said, it is also worth mentioning that being a writer is being an artist: what is literature if not a portal through alternate realities and the expression of experiences and feelings that other people (or the writer himself) have lived. In the same way that a painter’s piece expresses his ways, a writer’s piece is a portal to express what hasn’t been said and to say what others couldn’t put into words. Be it the reason it may be: not being able to write, censorship, fear, lack of time. That’s where writers come into play: we are the medium to connect silent people to those eager to listen.
Literature is vast. There are poems, history books, fiction and non-fiction novels, drama, comedy, etc. Compulsive writing that involves the creation of characters allows us to make people talk and behave our way. We can control what happens and we can make things happen the way we want them to. The obsession comes from the incapacity of doing so in the real world. Hence, the parallel world we create is a refuge from the imperfection of the real world. There we can fix boredom, evil, naivety, love, hate, anger, etc. We can make things happen our way. It is like watching a movie, but you can control everything to go the way you want it. But there’s a limit to it. The characters are alive. Yes: they are very much alive. There is only so much you can do with them, because they develop their own personality and their own behavior. Sometimes you wish you could help them from trouble but they can’t see their world as you can. That’s equivalent to being this universe, in which we live, the literary creation of somebody. As such, all the imperfections occur and we see the events take place sometimes against our will.
Writing never ends. However, the false feeling of completing something is always there. There’s a word quota and deadlines simply because it makes it feel like we are progressing. You climb that mountain, only to discover that there is another one to climb… and another after that. Writing allows us to intensify the feelings that in real life are more restrained. Friendship in real life is volatile, for example. Friendship in fiction is everlasting. Love in real life is limited. Love in fiction can beat any obstacle, distance and time. That’s why writing fiction is so addictive: we aim for perfection in an imperfect world.
When we complete literature pieces, regardless of how small, our brain finally rests. We are rewarded by that false feeling of being productive for having written something that wasn’t written before. Hence, we want to write and get rewarded. It is so addictive that it can even prevent us from living our lives outside our fictional worlds. The irony is that in order to create our fictional worlds we need stories, and those stories can’t happen if we don’t go out and live. Hence, our passion for writing should also inspire us to go outside and live. If the brain understood this, we wouldn’t feel anxiety when we are away from writing…
Genes from ancestors
Some people read history without much care about the details written on it. There are persons who can read pages of a history book without being touched. Those who do it that way, forget that the word “history” is not a void concept of “what happened n years ago”. It is a meaningful way to express what our relatives of the past lived. And what our offspring will know about us. It is a deep feeling that we carry on in our genetic material. A magic gift that we were given. Those who don’t feel it, live and die empty. Many try to find comfort in god or an entity they can’t see. Such entity is the contribution of all our ancestors together, to become alive through us once again.
We all have it in our blood but most of us don’t have time to meditate and bring that energy back to our bodies. Crystals, god, prayers, amulets… Nothing can ever bring the magic that acknowledging our true nature can. We are the living entity of something being carried on for so long. We weren’t born 20, 30, or 80 years ago but million of years ago when our first gene chains began to exist.
One day, we will all acknowledge that we are a higher entity than ourselves. A more complex entity than a mere human body alone: a society, a race, that has the contribution of every single person who ever lived on this planet… and one day even further than this planet will it be.
Quick note on penis length
For some years, penis has been an instrument for showing masculinity. Contrary to old Greeks, where it was testicles the ultimate feature of masculinity, a good sized penis has become one of the most valuable features in a man. Such assumption has been debated but it mostly prevails in both men and women: a good-sized penis is a symbol of beauty, masculinity, and even power.
I am a man of duty. I endorse honesty and respect. That’s the reason for which I refuse to label my penis as a 9″ one. 7.5″ it is, and I am proud of it as it is. 7.5″ is more than enough to not fit everywhere. It is a good size and there is no need to write it as something that it isn’t. I could easily get away with it but I refuse to join that cause. Penis is not a symbol of masculinity, power, and beauty. It is simply a beautiful part of the body, as many others.
In porn, a 5″ penis will be called 7″ already. That probably means that people would think of mine as a 5″ one when they read I am 7.5″. So be it. I would like those people to grab a ruler right now and see what 5,6,7,8″ are. That fear of labeling penis length as it is comes from the assumption that the bigger the better. So men become nervous around it and write an extra 1 or 2″ of what they truly have. I don’t like this trend. It is silly. It is senseless. Let’s stop giving penis the magic powers it doesn’t have. By admitting our true size, we can slowly take that back, and be more realistic to what it is.
Passing the Baton
I typed “Self Suck” on the web search the other day. Nice to have found a picture of mine among the results. At the beginning it felt awesome. I thought of how much I would love that my art would survive through the annals of time. But then I realized that nothing in this universe is immortal. We, and everything we do will die hopelessly. How meaningful what you do is doesn’t really matter.
We are fleeting. And so is the beauty of what we do so passionately. But our legacy stays. I’m not the guy on the web search engine anymore. And never will I be, once my website is down in a future that I can’t imagine right now…
I hope, however, to inspire other fellows on this same track of mine. I wish I am helping them to attain happiness, the same way I did with the inspiration I got from others who were on this path before me.
It is relieving to imagine that 100 and 1000 years from now, there will still be other guys enjoying sex as I do, and sharing their talent as I wish to do. I am happy to “pass the baton” to others so that they can rejoice from being alive.
What's immortality, paradise, and perfection
Immortality is a concept that doesn’t pertain to us. This universe was created with a beginning and with an end.
We can’t and we shouldn’t think of “immortality” because it doesn’t belong to this universe we live in. When religion portrays the perfection of life after life through infinity, it is always based on terrenal desires and that doesn’t make sense. Our terrenal wishes can only be fulfilled when our lives are governed by time. Is paradise a place where there’s endless food, sex, and sleep? It can’t be, because those desires of fulfillment are based on the lack of them to be appreciated. Excercise can be either a suffering and a pleasure, for example, in different points of our days and our lives. We enjoy the pleasure of stop suffering their deficit. Hence, that’s not divine. That is how paradise looks like from our humble terrenal point of view. Furthermore, our egoistic desires are only the result of harming others, be it animals, plants, other humans who don’t share our same religion, etc.
The real perfection of a paradise cannot be based on a desire-satisfaction basis. It can’t be governed by time. Take a widow for example. She has found love again but she truly loved her deceased husband. Will she live her after-life with the previous or the new one? The perfection of paradise goes beyond that banality because there is no such thing as “time” anymore.
Let’s be humble and accept the reality as it is: we are simple humans, a small creation of what we call “God”. We are neither the favourite nor the only creation of “Him”. Let’s stop worrying about hell and paradise; we will all get to that “after-life” at some point. Only then will we enjoy the perfection of this universe of which we know so little.
Society, the macro-organism we are part of
In the same way that our bodies are composed of living cells, we are the living cells bringing life to bigger entities that we call “States, countries, and humanity”. There are people who are in charge of leading others, in the same way that neurons do. They are not necessarily the best ones to lead others; they can, in fact, lead others to self destruction, as in the case of suicide.
Modern society makes us feel that individual sentiments are less meaningful than those of bigger social group. While it may be true that a bigger entity is more complex and more valuable than an individual, let’s not forget that analyzing our presence in the world is senseless. Social media and modern society in general makes us feel like our voice is only heard depending on the number of people it reaches. It is true that the impact is measured that way, but what is the real significance of your voice being heard all over the world while you have only one life to live? Only a few people will ever get close to you.
Yes, a macro-organism is more complex and more valuable than a single person from the biological point of view. That’s why a person whose voice is heard and acclaimed worldwide seems to have more value. But that’s only the result of social media and modern society. Regardless, we are and will ever be simple humans being part of bigger entities.
Porn vs art
I am a big fan of art in all its forms. I simply believe that the complexity of our human species is more elevated when measured by the art it can create. That’s why I love sex as a means of expression to make art with it. Sex may be art. Porn involves sex but seldom is it art. There is a clear distinction between the simple sex and artistic sex. Those who are sensible can know what the difference is. My sexual art may not be that of a great artist, but it is through my writing that it becomes the neat sexual art that I am so very proud of.