To Charlie Meier

With Gratitude, Lust and Brotherly Love

I write these humble lines in your honor, Charlie. May the Lord Phallus anoint You with His Light once and yet again, my Brother.

Many teachers will you meet, even if unbeknownst to you or to them, as you make your way through the wondrous odyssey of Life. I pray that you meet many as kind and true as Charlie Meier. We have the power to touch people’s lives. When the Heart is honest and compassionate, our actions will naturally shed and multiply a light that brings us closer.

That is Charlie Meier to me.

A kind Man that is true to His Horny Self.

“Homosexuality is not for cowards,” is one of the tenets of my personal philosophy. I heard and learned it from a fellow maricón (a Spanish slur for a homosexual man, I now embrace) early on at the beginning of the exploration of my sexuality. The debate whether one is born a homo or made a homo is irrelevant; in my opinion, we are BOTH born and made. It is a SPIRITUAL choice. To be a homosexual is to stand in direct defiance to traditional expectations and preconceptions regarding gender identities, roles and sexual orientation. Although, fortunately, times are changing, many people continue to feel threatened by our homosexuality.

Despite the fact many societies are obsessed with sex, many, if not most, expressions of human sexuality are still taboo. This fear originates from centuries of repression and conditioning. If being a homosexual is bad enough, then being a homosexual who eagerly and frequently indulges and endorses his appetite for sexual gratification has got to be the worst under a conservative lens. Behavior that is regarded as openly lewd is frowned upon, even by many people within our queer communities.

Not every gay man is equally sexually driven. Not all crave sex with burning passion. But what if you do? What if you need Cock and/or Male Ass that bad you deem and know yourself a slut? What if you are a chronic masturbator who likes porn and desires to bond with other bators? What if you are a pig who loves to wallow in your own man-stink and engage in pig-play with similar Men every so often? What if you have uncommon kinks and fetishes like feet, leather, watersports and dad/son play? What if you enjoy your sexuality so much you have elevated it to a spiritual practice by which you seek to discover yourself as you worship the Divine Masculine manifested in and through You and your fellow Men?

(You can probably guess I am all of the above 😉

Do you dwell within yet another closet in fear, shame and guilt? Do you shut your sexual self away? Do you attempt to overcome your sexual urges just to try to fit in and please others? Do you clothe it in the garments of false modesty?

Men like Charlie teach us to embrace OUR Sexual Truth in consenting respect of other people’s free will.

I am not saying you should publicly expose yourself as a Cock Slut, just like He does. That defeats our simple message: be true to YOURSELF.

I believe we should all dare to be ourselves in every possible dimension of our lives. How often do we hold back out of shame? How often have we refrained from giving that hug, from trying something we coveted or from doing our best because we feared?

I believe that the expression of our sexuality is fundamental to our mental and emotional health.

We are both spiritual beings and sexual animals BY CHOICE, and at this day and age we are reclaiming the right to manifest realities in which we cherish and honor those choices, realities of mutual respect and brotherly love where we take care of our needs in solidarity instead of preying on each other.

I remember the first time I saw a naked picture of a Man. I knew it then. My heart beat ferociously as my Penis grew into of those incredibly stiff erections that actually hurt. I knew I loved Men, and I feared. I feared because my society hated Men like me.

I remember not so much the first, but the second Man whose Cock I sucked. I remember myself drowning in the intoxicating day-long musk of His thick, mesmerizing, generously endowed uncut Member, proud and stout Son of the stock of the First Peoples. “Suck it,” He bluntly commanded. I knew it then. I knew it as I fell on my knees. I knew it as he guided my head and slowly stuffed my mouth with His Penis. I knew as I did as I was told, and I feared. I feared because only a maricón would enjoy sucking another Man’s smelly Pinga, and a maricón is an inferior man, society had it.

I remember that Cholo very well. He was somewhat effeminate, but at a physical level, he was in every single way archetypically masculine; He was stout and strong as they come, with a Verga to match, all of which my submissive self was helplessly drawn to. He was teaching me, and giving me what I wanted and needed, even if I was not completely ready for His lessons at the time. My first sexual teacher had been incredibly soft, gentle and considerate. I can barely remember Him. This Cholo, however, carried Himself like a dominant God before Me, and, as such, He was the first Man I truly worshiped, even if I hesitated. He was not rough, but He was decidedly stern. He knew I was a naturally submissive Cock slut WAY before I was ready to accept it, and treated me accordingly. Although submission and domination ebb and flow, I feel that when it comes to Homosexual Sex, the more submissive Man must naturally yield to the more assertive One. It’s normal, it’s natural. And there’s tremendous liberation, power and pleasure in embracing that.

I remember…

As it was meant to be, He was the One who claimed my Virginity in the name of the Lord Phallus…

I remember the pain and humiliation I felt as I was first penetrated by a Cock of considerable girth by a Man everybody knew to be a maricón. I feared. I feared because I found myself coming back to Him for yet more Dick. I feared because that had done it. I had officially become like Him. I was now a maricón.

It took many years before I was mature, wise and strong enough to fully understand, appreciate and embrace my sexuality. It would have been impossible without the lessons from Men like that Cholo I still idolize, without people like Charlie telling me it is OK to be a slut.

It is OK to be YOURSELF!

If loving and fetishizing the Male Form with this passion, with this utter feeling of wonderment, delight and loving adoration makes me a maricón, then, I confess myself the greatest maricón of them all!

If indulging my Penis with abundant masturbation while entertaining homoerotic and narcissistic thoughts and desires makes me a maricón, let it be known I have never been more proud of being a maricón!

If coming to the Fountain of Power to feed of His Magnificence while praising His Name with willing and grateful mouth makes me a maricón, then I am guilty! Guilty of my hunger for Him!

If offering my sweaty, odorous and hairy asshole to be opened, impaled, stretched and penetrated by my fellow Man’s aroused Rod of Power makes me a maricón, then I step forth to be relentlessly fucked and bred like the unapologetically horny, nasty and dirty Cock-loving maricón I proudly am!

Shall you need my Cock, my Brother, you can be assured I’ll give it to You, but remember: I only fuck sluts!

Dear Charlie, thank You for Your friendship, my Brother! Thank you for everything you taught and teach Me!

You don the Mantle of Your Lust by shedding shame and false morals. Modesty is a handmaid to fear and external authority. Like You, I choose to be a Man; I choose to embrace myself, and be myself. I am that I am. I love you, Charlie Meier!

Newcomer to the Garden of Cock – Part III

Erotic fiction and metaphors on some of the practices and beliefs of our Brotherhood

This is the third part to the mystic and sexual journey of a Man who has recently opened his Heart to Phallus, and become his devotee. For the first part, please click here. For the second, please click here.

Still drunk with the exhilarating energy my Brothers and I had exchanged during my Initiation, I found myself frolicking around the Garden. Full of a radiant, merry sexual warmth tingling away and into me, I ran and tumbled, kissed flowers, hugged trees and greeted dragonflies. Such was the playful abandon I felt as I savored a freedom years of rearing, schooling, and social conditioning had not completely buried in the cellars of my mind.

A figment of the memory of my Brothers and the Power we partook of was enough to turn the candlelight into a flame. I greedily masturbated my Cock as I chanted their names:

Aeneas! Ganymede!

The very sound, the music in the phonemes, seemed to be loaded with meaning, with intention, with lust, with magic. Saying their names made my hair stand, my heart race with lewdness, and my Meat ooze copious amounts of precum. In my arousal, my childish games momentarily ceased, and I turned my gaze towards the Tower of Man. Rising with majesty and unshaken determination, This was the House of my Newfound God.

With this certainty, I penetrated into His Abode.

When I crossed the threshold, the air, moist and crisp, shimmered softly. The interior was larger than it appeared from the Garden. Vast, tall, empty. Light dripped inside through a large oculus on the top and a thousand openings, some of them covered with irregular patches of stained glass which sprayed joyous color on the concentric granite slabs on the ground. There were no upper stories, no rooms, no furniture, no doors, no tapestries, no regalia, no men having wild sex. Nothing.

Just as I started to feel a pang of slight disappointment, I heard a familiar voice say:

“At last, My Son. At last You come back to Me.”

I turned around to face Alexandros, my Guide, my Teacher, my Mentor. Although He was not showing that original, wonderful and awe-inspiring Visage of God I witness when I first met Him-His appearance was perfectly Human-there was always something unnerving about Him. Perhaps because of His flowing beard and sound health, you could never tell His age. He looked like both Aeneas and Ganymede and, most disturbingly, a lot like Me.

“Welcome, my Son, to the House of the Lord Phallos, Shrine of the Divine Masculine, Fortress of Man, Hearth of the Loin-Fire, Fountain of Power, Bastion of Virility, Secret Garden of Men, Den of Male Lust, Divine Lingam, Tower of Phallic Light, and, my favorite, the Temple of the God Cock.”

Except for the Golden Pentacle and Chain hanging on His Neck, he was completely naked. His Body was a work of art; shaped as if some master sculptor had intended to capture and balance the quintessential qualities of Man. He was young and mature, muscular and supple, angular and rounded, all at the same time. He had just the “right” amount of body hair, which He proudly displayed, though his head was flawlessly bald.

“I am both the Steward and the Master of this House,” He said. “It is My House, The House of Cock; You are His, and He is Yours, hence You are Mine, and I am Yours.”

Jake Deckard, thank You for the inspiration, light and warmth you bring into this world.

He opened His arms in a welcoming gesture, and that sweet and savory manly musk I relished before, filled the air as His Cock grew into a stout, arrogant and solemn Erection.

I fell on my knees before Him. I could feel the Heat pulse and radiate from the turgid, mighty Member at the root, fragrant with the concentrated, intoxicating essence of Manhood. My mouth instinctively opened to welcome Him into my thirsty soul.

“Make no haste,” He commanded. “Close your eyes and delight in my Musk.” I did as I was told, and instruction continued. “Feel the swirling, odorous signature of this Rod of Wonder flood You, wash You, soak You. Feel Him make His Mark on You that You may know Me forever.”

The more I inhaled His manly scent, the more I loved it, the more I loved Him. His musk told countless stories; stories of Men burning with Lust, of Men yielding to the Voice of their Penises. Every Man I had ever loved smelled like Him somewhat.

“Open your eyes,” He bade, “and look at me.”

I narrowed my eyes as I looked upwards.

“Answer Me this,” He said without moving His lips, “what is it that You see?”

Although He was partially hidden against the cascading light, His Towering Presence was, without doubt, a visage of Masculine magnificence that was further heightened by His Voice resounding in my Mind.

“I see the Face of God,” I whispered in bedazzlement.

“Look up to Me then. Gaze at the splendor of Your Master, the Lord Phallus. Observe Me. Contemplate Me. Caress Me with your Sight. Admire Me. Study Me. Explore Me. Map Me. Know Me. Listen to Me. Hearken Me. Lust for Me. Adore Me. Worship Me. Venerate Me. Pay Homage to Me. Submit to Me. Surrender to Me. Yield to Me. Crave Me. Hunger for Me. Thirst for Me. Long for Me. Desire Me. Want Me. Need Me. Bear Me. Suffer Me. Endure Me. Ache for Me. Sigh for Me. Inhale Me. Think Me. Sing Me. Call Me. Pray to Me. Offer Yourself to Me. Open Yourself to Me. Welcome Me. Receive Me. Celebrate Me. Wed me. Love Me…”

“Become Me.”

With all my senses but touch saturated by Him, never before had I felt so vulnerable, so incredibly aroused. Longing for true, utter Communion, this Lust I felt surpassed the physical realm; in humble, tender reverence, I felt my very Soul praising Him, the Divine Masculine, the Universal Principle of All that is Male. With loving adoration, I marveled at His Power over Me, indeed, gladly, eagerly and willingly did I suffer my Lust for Him, a longing that grew as I sailed the ocean of His ineffable, inconceivable entirety.

“Alexandros,” I moaned, “Alexandros…”

He smile was almost child-like.

“Alexandros… Yes. One of my Names.”

He moved closer to me, or drew me towards Him; exactly, I cannot tell. Reality had become fluid, flexible. Reaching out to Me with unhurried leisure, He slid fingers that felt like cold fire towards my nape as He arched his pelvis backwards. His grip was unbelievably gentle yet imperially firm. The moment He touched my spine, the Lust I had been building began to flow upwards, like a boiling spring surfacing from fiery depths. Was He pulling me in midair, or was it my own sexual energy propelling us both?

“Cock.”

Space reverberated.

Floating in the middle of the rotunda, slowly, very slowly, He thrust forward.

“Cock.”

His advance met a groomsman readily, decidedly and completely willing; His in Body, Mind and Soul.

“Cock.”

The Battering Ram found no resistance; the Town’s Gates were wide open, just as the mouths of its expecting citizens who sang psalms to His Name.

“I am Cock.”

The Victor’s entourage seemed to have no end. His Mighty Warriors from past, present and future paraded along main street, where they were greeted as liberators with teary eyes, and given garlands in loving gratitude.

“I am Cock.”

In faithful and dutiful obedience, the Squire removed the helm, gauntlets, vambraces, spaulders, breastplate, mail and cuisses, and was then, in return, dutifully and faithfully rewarded while still kneeling, for His Lord could not wait for the entire plate to be removed.

“I am Cock.”

As Brother Jonathan approached the Altar, His eyes met Father David’s. The Priest avoided His Gaze while He administered the Body of The Anointed One, but when they came face to face, time seemed to momentarily freeze. Brother Jonathan had already received Communion earlier that morning. He would receive It yet a third time before the day ended.

“I am God.”

I opened my eyes to look at Him. The rocking motion of his lower body was mesmerizing, fascinating to watch. His Virility, His Fullness, His Greatness, His Generosity, His Kindness, His Lasciviousness; they were beautiful to behold. In truth, that wantonness, that lustful content and satisfaction, they all showed in His subtle grin. He gives of Himself because He wants to, because He loves to, because He takes tremendous pleasure from doing so. I can feel Him pouring His Phallic Energy into me. He is not merely fucking my mouth, He is Feeding Me, He is making me whole.

“I am God.”

I opened my eyes to look at Him. I confess His mouth, stretched and dilated, devouring My huge, consecrated Tool, is the most beautiful and pleasing sight in my entire Creation. Worship Him, My Son, Worship Me. How much bliss I take from Your Worship. Worship Him, My Brother, Worship Me. Feed Me that I may feed You in return. Worship Him, My Father, Worship Me. For You created Me, and I created You. Worship Him, My Beloved, Worship Me. For the Pleasure You give Me is the Pleasure You take. I Worship You, My God, I Worship Myself. For I am You,

“And I am God.”