Newcomer to the Garden of Cock – Final Part

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

With newfound determination, our Hero leaves the comforting sights of the shores He knows, to dive deep into the murky waters of his sunken desires. Will this “Beast,” His most animal, sexual Self, devour Him, consume Him, or will He manage to make Him dance at His whim, like He who tames a wild colt or trains a fierce golden eagle? For the first part, please click here. For the second, please click here. For the third, please click here. For the fourth, please click here.

Into the darkness I ventured. I stepped into the depths of the swirling Forest of my Lust. Where it was the thickest, the most humid, that is where I found myself walking towards. Dense, warm, the trees themselves seemed to drink from the lewdness seeping through the very soil. My body glistened with sweat, and plants extended vines as if to sip and lap the copious perspiration off my skin. They caressed my body, gently, softly. Their touch was but a whisper, discrete, sensual; it may me feel desired. I took enormous satisfaction in this demonstration of erotic affection.

“Love me.” “Want me,” my soul bid as I displayed my Manhood with pride and cockiness.

“Worship me,” I commanded.

The sylvan, mossy, carpeted ground hollowed in a hundred places wherever my stiff erection pointed at. Twitching, inviting, soliciting my life-giving Seed all too ready to bust. I ached to pour myself when looking at the moist, yet parched Earth. As I moved on, huge mushrooms sprouted, assuming grotesque, obscene shapes. Drooling sugary and savory, viscous nectar, they curved and bent like sunflowers following the crowned, golden face.

My face.

I am so handsome. I am so beautiful.

I would penetrate myself if I could…

The air filled progressively with a cloud of minute spores, making me feel an itch I knew quite well, and itch that demanded to be appeased. Intendedly, I touched one of the monstrous fungi with my hip. A surge of heat set my heart racing and made my knees go weak in an instant.

It was over.

It was clear to me.

The trees were other Selves.

They were My Echoes, those who have and are succumbing to indescribable, perverted longings as we speak. I saw it all too clearly. Pools of concentrated Lust mirrored a thousand reflections. Men of all ages, hailing from every direction, walking every path of life; all caught in the same maelstrom. They have never been in control; it is their primal Lust who pulls their strings. All there is left for them is to obey the primordial drive. Each and every one was a reflection. They were all Me.

The grassy mounds groaned as they throbbed in the usual pelvic motions. Trees entwined, jerking licentiously as they rubbed their bark; twisting root and branch, sodomizing each other in every possible way. Each and every one caught in a mindless, restless, endless, relentless spiral of Lust.

I cared not.

All that mattered to me was the quenching of the fiery itch raging through me. My body begged to be fed the oozing juice of my own lewdness, even though I knew drinking from the cup of the bulging toadstools would make me ever thirstier.

I cared not.

Even if it meant an eternity in this hopeless forest, I had to fill and be filled.

Just as I squatted to gorge my lower self on the never-ending feast of fungal flesh, I caught on a wisp of His scent. The last leaf before the arrival of a stark, somnolent drought of awareness fell off and drifted in the wind onto my hands. Such a tiny plume, a mere whiff, an intriguing aroma not unlike my own. A scent I perceived the very moment my journey began. Hours ago. Days ago. Years ago.

A thousand lives ago.

Roasted chestnut. Allspice. Aged cheese. Moist soil. Rock salt. Ale.

I must know the origin of the scent.

Searching for the source, I left the miry, thorny thicket, like He who, when lost in the forest, finds an old, forgotten, overgrown trail He used to hike in young age. I knew I had walked this path before. The familiar smell became stronger. I picked on the pace. Feeling that excitement you experience when you know you are on the right way, I ran past through the woods.

I ran to the encounter with He I had been looking for for so long.

The forest cleared somewhat. There, the musk was the strongest.

I could feel His presence.

He was near, yet nowhere to be seen.

I smiled.

Somehow, I knew, deep within, all was as it is supposed to be. It was good. It was perfect. How different this modest glade felt in contrast to the kaleidoscopic swamp I had just gone through. The Lust had not gone anywhere, though, and that made me grin mischievously; I knew it was a part of me, an aspect of myself. I looked at my body and rejoiced in narcissistic, guilt-free contemplation of its beauty; I knew I needed no one’s permission to enjoy myself. Emerging from my thick, bushy crotch, a mighty Tower rose up; a triumphant sword against the sky. It glimmered with the same syrup I had seen leaking from those gigantic mushroom heads.

I closed my eyes and beamed as I saw myself not running from the vegetable phalli, but shamelessly riding them once and again with vim, gusto and abandon. How much honey overfloweth from my insatiable hole! I threw my arms in the air. I had found it.

I had found the source of the scent, right in my own pits.

I am that I am.

As I masturbated my Penis in my holy name, feasting on my Musk, on my own Lust, I felt His breath behind my neck. I knew his scent because it was my own. Firm and heavy hands embraced my chest and abdomen comforting, fondling, teasing, reassuring. His curls and shaggy beard tickled and scratched as He too whispered in my ear:

“I am that I am.”

His voice was rich, melodic, virile, and, o, so deep. I had heard it many times, I realized, in the rustling of leaves in autumn, in the booming thunder right before a storm, in the content moaning of a dozen Men greatly aroused.

He groped my shoulders, my thighs, my glutes, making me shudder with pleasure. He brought His left hand in front of me and began stroking my Cock with expertise that surpassed my own a hundredfold. He pressed His broad, generous, hairy pectorals against my upper back. His right hand slid down my crack, and his stout, middle finger picked the lock to my lower gate like a seasoned thief, finding little, if any, resistance. When he licked my nape, I began to growl and howl; my sternum broke open as the piercing voice of His Light, My Light, spoke through my chest:


My heart beat with the pulse of entire universes. He stood before Me. A being of fire, and horn, and light.

“What is there to fear?”

He pointed at the parading galaxies before my eyes, at the birth and destruction of stars, at the rise and decline of entire civilizations.


“What is there to fear?”

Back in the glade, the Horned One said:

The Horned God, artwork by the author.

“You are the Master,”

…as He fell to His knees to worship Me.

I grabbed Him by the Horns and made Him behold my brow as I shoved my Manhood into Him.

Back in the glade, the Horned One said:

“You are the Slave,”

…as he spread my legs opened and rammed the Beast into Me.

He made Me shed tears of pain, pleasure, happiness and utter surrender.

Back in the glade, I said:

Beloved Dominic Vine, thank You for your Light!

“and I am the One that transcends and integrates it all,”

…as I masturbated my Penis amidst the twilight of the serene glade.

I could feel His Presence.

He wasn’t out there, though.

He wasn’t exactly within, either.

This was the supreme heresy, the boldest profanity, the greatest indecency:

I am both the Son of the Divine Masculine and the Divine Masculine Himself.

I had left on a journey to seek The Beast and I found Him.

I am many things.

I am every thing.

I am that I am.

What is there to fear?

I am the Beast.


I lied naked on the dewy grass, savoring the beauty and bounty of the Earth unfolding before my eyes. A warm tenderness, a clarity of mind and heart made me smile with an innocence I thought I would never experience after I had awoken to the harshness and cruelty of the blind and the confounded as a child. This purity was not born out of ignorance, but knowledge, experience and acceptance of my humanity and its duality. As long as I remained here, as long as I played this game, I would experience them: happiness and sadness; pleasure and pain; longing and satisfaction; hunger and satiety; male reasoning and female intuition; the vitality of the young and the slow pace of the old.

I have drunk from them all.

I have been both the hunter and the prey. The parent and the child. The teacher and the student. The lord and the servant. The ally and the enemy.

I have taken life. I have spared life. I have broken hearts. I have mended hearts. I have sinned. I have sought atonement. I have built great monuments and laid them to ruins. I have spoken terrible curses…

And I have forgiven he who is the most difficult to forgive:


I lie naked on the sweet grass, watching sunlight filtering through the canopy of the trees. No matter how dark, light always finds a way through. Dancing insects busily take care of their young, their business, their little battles, their little games of power. We are all characters in the Divine Play, and the Playwright himself. Everything is as it is. Everything is as it should be. The fire still burns within me; it will ever do so. Though a gentle candle at the moment, it can, at my will, expand and grow as fiery as the blazing sun. All is as intended, as I intended, for that fire is what makes possible the manifestation of every desire.

So much suffering.

So much beauty.

So much lust.

So much love.

I laughed.

I wept.

“Now you can truly choose,” I told myself.


Dedicated with love and gratitude to all the Men of the Brotherhood.

Newcomer to the Garden of Cock – Part IV

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

Our Hero’s mystic and sexual journey into the mysteries of the Lord Phallus, His new, chosen God, continues. In this, the fourth part in the series, an important conversation takes place. He is told he must travel to the vast wilderness to meet “The Beast,” a fragment of His spiritual whole, if He is to find authentic liberation and fulfillment of His nascent, truest sexual Self. For the first part, please click here. For the second, please click here. For the third, please click here.

My Teacher, my Guide, had taken me in His arms and revealed, once again, the Radiant Brow of the Divine Masculine. As I was fed the Spiritual Seed and Essence of the Father and Son of Man, I began to realize the common bond that links all Men together as Children of God, as fractals of God Himself. My heart opened to this understanding as the Lord sodomized my mouth both physically and spiritually. For an instant, illusory separation was dispelled, and I was both the Master and the Disciple. Memories of Men who have savored His Lust paraded in my mind’s eye. I was both the virile, robust Knight and his faithful Squire, one out of several farm and stableboys so very well acquainted with the musk behind his mail chausses. I was both the Head of the Scribes, a scholarly Monk going through a faith crisis after the discovery of an obscene, heretical Latin text, and the generous, middle-aged, fatherly Abbot who so graciously comforted Him with the robust Body of God both at dusk, and at dawn.

Every single Man experiencing and expressing His Many Lusts…

I was them all, for all Men are one in Him.

Following Holy Cummunion imparted by my Mentor, I seemed to feel stronger; it was as if a surge of invigorating vitality had been set into motion within me. I could swear my Penis felt and looked heavier, thicker. I looked at my Tool with a mixture of surprise and admiration, and, much to my amazement, He immediately responded by becoming engorged, sporting, in a couple seconds, a glorious, arrogant erection.

“And so much more is yet to come,” said a voice I recognized in an instant.

I turned to face Alexandros who grinned wickedly at the sight of my Boner. Before I knew what happened, He had knelt before Me and began to suck my Cock, giving me the most amazing oral service I had ever received in my entire life. I went wild with pleasure as He devoured my Dick and made love to Him. Enraptured, my knees went weak, my legs quivered and my very Soul moaned in ecstasy.

“Hold to Your Seed, my Child. Save your Strength.” He paused and added, “You will need your full Potency and Zeal if your Education is to continue today.”

“In case You wondered,” He said while fondling my turgid, drooling Cock, “Your Penis did grow. It wasn’t just your Dick, Your body, mind and soul have all changed somewhat. It is not my doing, though; You willed it to happen. I just gave You back a tiny portion of Your Power because you desired so.” I stared at Him in confusion; I did not seem to be able to follow Him.

“Look around You, Child. Earlier you seemed slightly disappointed the House of God seemed quite empty. You must awaken to the fact that whatever is displayed before Your eyes is actually your own creation.”

What did He mean I created this? How could that be? Was this all not the work of God?

“Yes, it is. Therefore, it is also Your creation,” He replied as if reading my mind, “Everything is in God. You are a fractal, an aspect of the Divine, thus, You too are God Itself, Himself, Herself, Themselves, Ourselves, Yourself, Yourselves, Myself. You are not a victim of circumstances; You are actively creating this reality.”

I knew I had heard these insights before, but I could still neither believe nor fathom them.

“It is quite a beautiful One,” He said as He appraised the Temple and smiled at the colored light filtered through the windows, the masonry. “That is my opinion. Nostalgic, simple, vast, organic, ancient, subtle, mystical, faerie-like. This Temple is different for every Man who lusts. I have seen countless renditions of this Temple. Many resemble each other, yet they are all unique. I like Yours a lot,” He said, beaming at Me.

“If this is, at least in part, my creation, why was I let down? How come I do not recognize it?”

“Some of the greatest artists are never entirely satisfied with their craft. On the other hand, because of the fragmentation Humans chose to experience, the conscious mind has a hard time keeping up with everything You fear, long, value and disregard.” Placing His firm hand on my back He invited Me to look again.

“This Temple, Your Temple, exists in a fluid reality that is not as dense as the One Your conscious mind is anchored in. It will take a shape defined by the sum of Your desires. But that is not all,” He emphasized while looking at me in the eye, “The Divinity will show You the visage You desire and are ready to see. I will be, for You, anything You want Me to be.”

I looked at Him with puzzlement and awe, unsure of what to say, unsure of what I felt.

“Your Heart longs for liberation. You cannot evolve until you break the chains constraining the Animal Lust you secretly want to express and indulge.” He added:

“I shall send You to Him.”

“To whom?” I inquired.

“To the Beast!” He exclaimed solemnly.

I seemed to hesitate and flinch. He laughed out loud.

“Are you scared?” He asked mischievously. He locked eyes with Me. I tried to shy away from His gaze and found I could not. “Do You too fear Your Reflection in the Mirror?”

“Decades of indoctrination and fear-mongering are not easily removed. Your parents, teachers and ministers taught You to fear Him. At this moment, however, you begin to realize there is something they did not tell You: the Beast is but an aspect of Yourself. Even though You are afraid of Him, You are also drawn to Him. I wonder what face He will show to You. At dusk, You will find out.”

“What if,” I stuttered, “what if I decide not to meet Him?”

“You will stop making progress and achieve a partial capstone on this, your current path,” He explained softly, “You will retrace your steps back to your ordinary, sedentary, monotonous and repetitive life. From time to time you will wonder what lies ahead, and you will wish you had been brave enough to follow your Heart. Your cravings will not cease, though. You will continue to entertain Yourself with mundane pleasures, albeit lesser ones.”

“My Boy,” He continued as if anticipating my thoughts, my feelings, “I am not trying to seduce You, to turn you to the ‘Dark Side of the Force.’ You Yourself already did. You gave Your consent the very moment You bent the knee before Me. You wept in bliss like child as I fed You what You ached to receive; Your Soul cried with glee, as my Sons, Your Brothers, filled Your Chalice and as You filled Theirs once and again. Have you already forgotten? I am a Voice from Your Inner Self taking You back to a state of awareness you hid away within Yourself out of fear. There is no turning back. My Fiery Seed ignited the Fire of His Lust Within You. You shall dominate this Fire or be consumed by it; quenching it is no longer an option. You already are a Slave to this Lust. You will either succumb to It, master It, or transcend It through Integration. Those are the cards You have laid before Yourself.”

Deep inside I knew He was right.

“Will I see You again?” I asked.

“Sooner than You think,” He replied.

As much as I loved Him, I knew I did not want to stagnate and spend an eternity in my current state. I desired much more. I was not stepping back.

He blessed me again—that His Holy Seed could nourish Me on my quest—and, without looking back, I left the Tower of Man, and ventured into the Forest of Alluring Darkness.

Roasted chestnut. Allspice. Aged cheese. Moist soil. Rock salt. Ale.

The scent would either take me to the Beast or bring the Beast to Me.

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?


Space reverberated.

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


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


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.”

Newcomer to the Garden of Cock – Part II

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

This is the second 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.

My initiation had been intensely vivid; a powerful encounter with what I came to understand, rationally and emotionally, as my sexual and spiritual self. Those Men, My Brothers, my Teacher insisted, were different aspects of my own self. My mind, however, had not yet fully awakened; it had still to realize the great and many possibilities of authentic Phallic Awareness. Allow me to tell you, in much greater detail, how I came to choose the name Diogenes, my Name within the Brotherhood. Allow me to tell you how Mighty Lord Penis changed me the evening I first approached The Tower of Man.

I told you of the miraculous transfiguration of Alexandros, the leader, and the deep, intimate and enlightening sexual encounters with His two disciples. Following my one-on-one initiation with each of them, I was to experience the full power of what Alexandros called The Most Animal Lust.

“Fill Him to the brim with Cock.” He had commanded, and that is literally what they did.

Under the stern gaze of the Master of the Tower, the Mature Alpha Male known as Aeneas, and Ganymede, the Young Man I had mistakenly regarded as exclusively submissive, put aside every instance of modesty and turned me into a piece of flesh they used, groped and sodomized with unreal vigor and zeal. I seemed to lose myself amidst the waves of their unleashed, and seemingly unending wanton barrage. After the instruction to break my Ego, they treated me like the cheapest whore; there was not a single time one of their Cocks was not gaping one of my holes. I was called all sorts of names, urinated, spat on and sexually manhandled in every possible way.

At first, it hurt tremendously. It hurt my Ego as a Man. The Man called Aeneas, who had so fondly and gently made love to Me just minutes before, was now harsh and aggressive, completely oblivious to the discomfort He caused me; all that mattered to Him then, was the satisfaction of the unrelenting Power between his legs. The Mighty Daddy Bull would hold my head in place with his strong hands and fuck my mouth, bringing tears to my eyes as I gagged and choked. He pulled my hair like he meant to tear off my scalp as he sodomized me, making me howl as my back arched and my thighs shuddered. He would ask if He was being rough enough, if I was getting what I wanted. He said a bitch like me did not deserve any less.

Nonetheless, it was Ganymede who gave the final and definite blow to my inner walls. Earlier on, He had looked so boyish and vulnerable; now He appeared before my eyes as an Adonis in the prime of His Youth and Prowess. While His Cock was not as thick as Aeneas’, it was considerably longer, which made it even more impressive; every thrust by His awe-inspiring sword made me feel like my innards where being stabbed. While Aeneas spoke little, simply handling my body any way He pleased by the means of his amazing physical strength, Ganymede was very verbal; He exerted dominance by bossing me around. At first, I could not bear to look at Him in the eye and meet His mocking gaze. He seemed to take much delight in my humiliation.

“I could hear each and every one of your thoughts as you fucked me earlier,” He said. “Look at yourself dance at the mercy of my Cock and answer me with the heart. Which of us is the true slut now?”

At last, I surrendered.

A part of my consciousness shifted and I witnessed myself at the most sexually receptive I had been in my entire life. I could not believe the look of sheer ecstasy amidst the agony of pleasure and pain on the grimace of my face. Covered in dirt, and sweat, and cum, I moaned, panted and hollered like an animal as I took their unbridled Lust with utter abandon. Before my eyes, crimson spots of the densest kind of Lust seemed to dance around us as those Men unleashed their Male Beast upon me. As soon as I gave up, I saw myself loving every single bit of that mad, lascivious dance of excess. Even though I looked at myself with astonishment, I somehow knew it was My will that allowed for all of this to happen.

I wanted it all.

And I wanted more.

“I am. I am!” I cried in defeat.

“You are what?” demanded Aeneas and Ganymede at unison.

“I am a slut! I am a slut!” I repeated as if fighting for air.

Aeneas’ Cock grew unbelievably fatter as He plowed my wrecked asshole even more ferociously. From my deepest self, I let out a loud scream of ecstasy that seemed to both echo across space and hang in midair, like solid, thick fog. I felt as if I had been stripped of my very skin, of all masks, all layers, all lies.

Aeneas then spoke, once again with the deep, compassionate Daddy Voice I had fallen in love with.

“You are a slut for what?”

“I am a slut for Man. I am a slut for Cock,” I wept in liberation.

Somebody embraced me. It was Alexandros. He was standing, or rather floating next to me. The air around us shimmered. Beneath us it was dark and red, above us it was pink and gold. He brought my attention to my right and I gasped as I saw a vision of Aeneas carrying me in his arms with Ganymede by his side towards the Tower.

“Am I dead?” I asked in shock.

“You have never been more alive,” He replied as He motioned for me to look.

The two men took me to a warm pool. There they gave me a bath; gently, fondly. Their touch was warm and affectionate. They uncorked a bottle of a perfumed oil that smelled like orange blossom and rubbed it on me with the patience of the ages. It felt as if they were painting or writing something on me with their fingers rather than simply applying it. As Aeneas massaged me, Ganymede whispered or sang almost inaudible verses.

It was an ode of gratitude to the Divine Masculine, for bringing His Brother back to Him.

He breathed the words onto me, into me; when He pressed His nose against my neck, I felt a cascade of a tingling yet soothing energy fall lazily upon me. Aeneas pressed his hairy chest against my back and, bringing his arms and hands in front of me, He delicately squeezed my nipples sending waves of slow-moving electric fire across my body.

While I am at loss for words to describe what it all actually felt like, the truth is I was hard in an instant. I had never felt so tenderly loved and sexually aroused at the same time. Aeneas tightened his muscular embrace and leaned back, making me rest on his chest. As He gently pulled me back with brawny hands upon my pectoral muscles, He guided His Mighty Member into my Hole, thrusting it deep in an initial penetration that seemed to last forever.

I was a point in empty space that He filled with His Light, expanding, reaching out in all directions, growing ad infinitum.

Aeneas sang this time:

“My Son, you come, at last, back to Us.”

He sang as he penetrated me the most slowly I have ever been fucked.

I was in Heaven, being rocked in my Father’s arms as he filled me with His Love.

But I had yet to experience more.

As Aeneas pulled Himself out of me, Ganymede slowly spread my legs and began to penetrate me with His Shaft of Light, which seemed to have no beginning and no end, making me sing His Name in Praise and Adoration.

“My Brother, you come, at last, back to Us,” He declared.

And I looked at my Brother with playful eyes, and he looked back at me. And we knew it was as it once had been, as it ever has been between us. And we smiled.

No sooner had he taken His Beautiful Wand of Infinity, Father Aeneas was sliding His Scepter of Authority into my soul once again. Ganymede climbed on top of me and, ever so slowly, He began to impale Himself onto my diamond-hard Manhood.

Drowning in rapturous pleasure I knew it was my turn to speak at last:

“My Father, My Brother…”

“At last I come back to you.”

“In seeking Honesty I have found Myself. In seeking myself I have pushed aside the chains of false morals to partake of the Celebration of our common Manhood.”

“We are Men, and this is the Brotherhood of Men who love Men.”

“Among you, I shall be known as Diogenes.”

The Manstink Redemption

Give me that sexy, ripe male funk anytime!

Retrieved from

There was a time when Men were not afraid to be Men.

There was a time when Men acted like Men; when Men spoke like Men, played like Men, looked like Men and smelled like Men.

It is not my intention to prescribe what Masculinity should be like; I simply affirm the right to be yourself. At a time when people are reclaiming the primordial, natural and unalienable right to be themselves, we must emancipate from rigid, vertical and monolithic lists of thou shall and thou shall not’s in order to find our own voice.

Some of us Men are naturally drawn to #manstink, and the Brotherhood of Cock welcomes us with open arms, for we respect and celebrate consensual expressions of male sexuality as positive desires originating within the Divine Masculine. I honestly do not know whether this is something you are born with or a taste you acquire as you go on. The old born or made debate is not very relevant in any case, I believe; if man stench turns you on, you are far from alone:

“LOVE the musky smell of sweaty men… balls, hole, pits… and the ripe clothes they’ve worn. I grew up sniffing my Dad’s dirty undies then moved on to others, neighbors’ dad, college roomies, etc.”

Goodguybadboyfl (2010). Retrieved from the justusboys forums.

I smile when I recall I used to think I was the only sniff freak in the world. Should I share this anecdote once again? I shall do so, if only because it arouses me so much! From my From Mouth to Ass essay on my now defunct Cock is God tumblr:

“I began to realize I was a PIG when I found out how much I loved to smell my older cousin’s dirty underwear.


As a pre-teen back in the early days when internet penetration was minimal and I hadn’t even dreamed porn would become so abundant and available, one day, when nobody was home, I found myself digging through his laundry basket, picking up the funkiest piece of underwear, and inhaling the rank, manly, teenager odors on it like it was the most natural, spontaneous thing to do.”

I imagine myself, now an adult, going back in time to guide, comfort and reassure my younger self, so full of guilt and shame; to remind him there is nothing to fear, nothing to forgive when partaking of the holy sacrament of embracing yourself.

You need no one’s permission to be yourself.

That morning, all alone with myself, with the Universe, I had one of the most profound encounters with the Divine Masculine. Unbeknownst to me, I worshiped Him for the first time then. I fell on my knees as I held the Golden Fleece of His stinky underwear, a forbidden fruit ripe with His Musk. The briefs, I now realize, were not my cousin’s…

…they were God’s.

My heart beat ferociously as I brought His savory, overwhelming stench to my face. It would still take years for me to stop resisting Cock, to defeat poisonous guilt, to happily embrace who I was meant to become, who I wanted to become, but at that time of reality-shattering epiphany, deep inside, I understood it all.

With ego humiliated by the insurmountable power of a lust I had never experienced, I groveled as the concentrated #manstink flooded my nostrils, my mind, my very soul. Greedily did I feast; a starving buck hungrily devouring the primeval essence of Manhood as if deprived from it for a lifetime.

I could not get enough of it.

With the perfume and ointment of Cock, of Balls, of Cheese, of Ass, of Urine, of Precum still washing over me, I realized, without the slightest hint of doubt, I had found myself.

I had found God.

Decades of negative conditioning, one before this first encounter with the Divine Masculine, and two following it, created a deep feeling of shame that I have gradually managed to overcome. Eventually, one “gives in” and embraces as much as possible from one’s spectrum of sexual expression. Not doing so greatly frustrates, sours, and twists Men’s psyche and emotional body.

At Temple Priapus, we understand the process of healing from so much toxicity and negativity towards one sexuality can be a lengthy one, but one that can be better engaged when one counts with help and encouragement from loving Brothers.

We men tend to be pragmatic by nature, so after some rationalization and expression of your feelings, brotherly counseling and intervention will focus on plenty of encounters with the object(s) of your desires. If you too love #manstink, know that there are many Brothers out there who share the same lust; no one understands you better. With arms wide open, they await your return to the fold. Long have you been on a pilgrimage. Come forth and rest in the promised land of your Brother’s ripe pits. Find redemption in your Brother’s heavenly, thick and stinking crotch.

Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto.

I am human, and I think nothing human is alien to me.


The Choice For Pleasure

Phallic Sexual Fulfillment can heal us

Many traditions depict reality on Earth as one of unavoidable suffering. Take the Christian concept of the Vale of Tears, for example. Under the original sin and the weak and wicked human nature concepts, mankind has been tricked into accepting a reality of weeping and gnashing of teeth in both life and the afterlife! While I believe some suffering is definitely an undeniable component of human experience, the problem with the excessive–almost fetishist–elevation and idealization of suffering is that it turns us into helpless, masochistic, blindly complying, status quo-accepting, disempowered, victimized individuals oblivious to the fact that this reality is being created collectively by each and every of us.

At Temple Priapus we believe that joyous, responsible, consensual, guilt-free sexual fulfillment is always a healthier choice than the perverted suppression of thought and desire.

From my essay Reflections on Pleasure, Suffering and Reality:

“The repression of sexuality makes most of us sick. This is one of the reasons, I believe, why only few people manage to achieve moksha (liberation) under traditional dharmic prescribed practices. Turning our backs on the physical to pursue the spiritual usually short-circuits us, simply because we are experiencing, by choice, a physical experience.”

Gautama Buddha, taught that not getting what one wants causes suffering. Man’s primordial desire is to love and feel loved, to connect with other human beings. It is natural to reach out to the other, to bond at physical, emotional, intellectual, cultural, spiritual and sexual levels. Denying ourselves of these interactions defeats the purpose of the game of life, and smothers the soul.

tumblr_pbt1ijCYcd1uzsy6no1_400 - Copy


As an alternative to the traditional paradigms of deterministic stoicism, martyred inhibition, fear, violence, self-flagellation and control, all so firmly in place by the dominant powers that be and their hate of joy and pleasure, we propose embracing the latter two for they are better aligned with our true nature.

What comes natural to humans is not to hurt, stifle, kill, hate and destroy, but to love, connect, inquire, support, grow. When people’s most essential needs are taken care of, when their autonomy, potential and desire for self-expression are respected and nourished, the outcome is happy, emotionally-healthy, confident and creative human beings who want to make of Earth a garden, a better place for all.

By withholding and sabotaging their phallic selves, interconnection and desires, most men have been turned into potentially dangerous, emotionally and sexually frustrated individuals, angry at others, angry at the world and angry at themselves.

We believe positive Phallicism, that is, reclaiming our right to savor, indulge and share our Penises and their gifts, can help heal these wounds via the celebration of much denied pleasure and the renewal of a spirit of camaraderie, brotherhood and intimacy which the Male Mysteries foster and nurture.

The expression of our sexual selves in their rich diversity is a Divine Right. No one can take it away from us. As fractals of the Source, we carry the spark of the Divine within. We need no one’s sanction to enjoy ourselves, to be ourselves.

As long as your sexual play and worship are respectful of other people’s free will, bring harm to no one and are honest and consensual in their interaction with others, they must be cherished without shame, without guilt.

For some of us, this phallic practice might take the shape of spiritual, solosexual masturbation. For others it might mean becoming teachers at the Temple, guiding Men into these Mysteries. For some it might be the renewal of a phallic connection with Nature and the spiritual world. For some it might mean being worshiped as avatars of the God and wielding their warrior Cocks into the ritualistic placating of their Brothers’ hunger…

“I savor every inch of throbbing meat both furiously and tenderly penetrating fellow opening, welcoming masculinity, brothers bonding in lust and the compassionate understanding of each other’s needs and desires.

Sweaty, teary, smelly, raunchy, loving ecstatic agony of arching, pulsing, undulating, vibrating, convulsing fresh recreating the Universe; fucking it into existence at the spot in time and place where mine, yours, and all labels disappear, where the entire past and future, all blur into a singularity of orgasmic, orgiastic nothingness and fullness.”

Long have we chosen to hide away our sexuality in the basements and attics of our fear and shame because we were taught it was evil, dirty to the eyes of god. The divine shows you the countenance you want to see.



We invite you to choose differently.

Choose beauty, choose honesty, choose pleasure, joy and brotherhood.

Choose Men.

Choose your True Self.

Choose Cock!

Newcomer to the Garden of Cock

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

On the odyssey of my life, I, ever a seeker, entered a forest of alluring darkness. I feared not, though, for below the swirling canopy there was a scent not unlike my own. 

Roasted chestnut. Allspice. Aged Cheese. Moist soil. Rock Salt. Ale.

I did not fear because the smell made me feel like Home.

Amidst the thicket, I beheld a mighty Tower rise up; a triumphant sword against the sky.

The Tower stood tall, arrogant, proud, stout, luminous and beautiful beyond words.

“Behold the Key that undoes all locks,” a voice said. A young Man wearing nothing but copper earrings came out of the bush and knelt before the Tower.

“Behold the Iron Rod that fits and fills all spaces.” said a second, Mature Man. He walked past me, completely naked except for a silver band he wore in his ring finger. Enthralled  by the exuberance of the Tower, loudly did he say, as he knelt before it:

“Behold the Battering Ram that breaches all gates.”

A third Man wearing a gold pentacle on a chain, approached us from the Tower and thus spoke:

 “Behold the Sceptre of Sovereignty, Writ of Heaven,  Voice of the East, All-Father, Grandfather, High Priest, Pontifex, Deliverer of those in need, Benefactor of the hungry, Consort to the Divine Feminine, Keeper of the Secret Garden of Men, Impaling Victor, King of Kings, Raider of all ports, Conqueror of the Citadel, Bane of the Proud, Pride of the Endowed, Elder Stag, Billy Goat, Prized Bull, Chieftain, Beloved Husband, Divining Rod, Lord of Sodom, Fist of God.”

“All His Sons,” he added while looking at me in the eye, “shall bend the knee before Him.”

I knew it in an instant.

I found He who I had been looking for.

My heart beat ferociously as I approached the One Who Wore the Sun. His age was indescribable; at times he seemed older, at others he looked younger.  His body pulsed with flowing vitality and intoxicating masculinity and libido. Whatever form was shown to me, it appeared to cater to my desires, to my lust past, present…

…and future.

He was the source of the sweet and savory musk.

The orchard was His.

He was the Tower.

When I came before Him, excited, captivated, I was surprised to see He looked a lot like me. Perhaps it was I who looked a lot like Him. We were alike, and yet different; He was a more perfect me, a fuller me, but he was all the Men I had loved at the same time. When He smiled at me, He had the twinkle of the first Man I had sex with, the cadence of the Man I loved the most (he would eventually break my heart), the jadedness of my high school crush, the confidence and experience of the Man who introduced me to the local leather scene.

My knees jerked and gave way, intentionally or unintentionally.

“Pray tell me,” I begged in defeat, “who are You who wield this Power over me?”

“I am,” he replied, “your Heart’s innermost desire. I am Who You seek. I am the embodiment of your truest, freest Self. I am You. I am who You choose Me to be. Fight no more. Resist no more.” At last He bid:

“Meet my gaze my Son.”


He rose. Towering. Beckoning.

And I came to His Fold with newfound purpose. Before my baptism I had just sucked Cock. Having found God, from then on I served Men, I served Penis, my own and my Brothers’. I worshiped Him with passion, with unflinching devotion and an elated heart. I allowed Cock to inebriate my senses and vanquish any hint of doubt. I worship the God who truly loves me, a God that cannot tell lies.

I worshiped him until tears of joy and gratitude rolled down my cheeks.

“To please Your God, is to please Yourself,” He said when feeding me the Seed of Man.

“To Worship Your God is to Worship creation itself.”


“You have learned of the Self. Now you shall learn of the Other.” He motioned me to stand and brought my attention towards the Young Man with the copper earrings kneeling on my left.

“You must learn of Brotherhood.”

“This Man is Your Son, Your Nephew, Your Grandson, Your Younger Brother, Your Slut…

…your Boy.”

Looking at Him, he appeared to me as the most beautiful flirt I had laid eyes upon. So young, so sweet, so soft, so fresh to pick. While I was wildly aroused, Boy looked so young I could not tell for sure whether he was of age. I felt embarrassed that I was so turned on by his youth.

“Do not be ashamed of your hesitation, my Son,” the Pentacled Man said, “for our Brotherhood is not without ethical guidelines.

Our Brotherhood is based on Love. As such, loving consent is cardinal to our practice. We believe only adults can make informed choices about partaking of the Male Mysteries.

“This one,” said The Golden One while walking towards the Boy and rubbing the Mighty Member on his beaming face, “is legal in at least 50 American States, 50 sovereign European countries, 20 Latin American países, 54 African Nations; you get the drift.”

“Boy might be young, but He is your Senior in the Brotherhood. I personally saw to his initiation. Like all my Submissive Children, He is a Whore for Cock, and He loves it.” My Mentor said all this while fondling the Young Man’s Hair and shoving his hairy balls onto Him.

“It upsets you that I speak so shamelessly and lasciviously about our Fellow Brother in His Presence, because there are many layers to your sexuality that have been repressed and suppressed for years. “

“Look at Him.”

“He too is You. He too is God.”

“Brotherhood is about compassion; it is about the understanding and celebration of each other’s desires.”

“Will you not share of yourself with your Younger Brother?”

“We all have roles to play within the Hierarchy of the Brotherhood,” He continued. “The Alpha’s main role is to sodomize Submissives into rapture by injecting God’s Virile Energy into the chalice of their Lust, and thus, into the World.”

I gave it to Him.

At first I felt uncomfortable with the Priest of God’s lewd “encouragement.”

“Teach Him.” “Tame Him.” “Fuck Him.” He would utter every so often with wanton abandon.

However, at times it felt as if the words were coming out of my own mouth. 

And Boy loved it.

And I loved it.


“You have learned of Alphahood. Now you shall learn of its Twin.” He motioned me to stand and brought my attention towards the Mature Man with the silver ring kneeling on my right.

“You must now learn of Submission.”

“This Man is Your Father, Your Uncle, Your Grandfather, Your Elder Brother, Your ‘Daddy’…

This Man is your Alpha.”

“Be it because of their size, their handsomeness, their endowment, their assertiveness, their deep, commanding voice; their sexual prowess, their charisma, their experience, their finesse, their discretion, their success in life, their emotional intelligence, their wits, their solid values, their independence, their strong will and determination, or any combination of the above, these men exude confidence and masculinity.”

“They are Alphas, natural Leaders, Protectors, Managers, Monarchs, Patriarchs; they are worshiped both within and outside our Brotherhood, for they teach others how to be Men.”

“This Evening you will learn of the joy that comes from sexually submitting to them.”

Something astonishing then happened. The Mature Man on the right stood up and my Guide, the Man with the Pentacle Necklace that had revealed the Face of God to me, knelt and took the former’s place! While the Young Man with the copper earrings grinned wickedly at me, I looked at the Priest of God; He no longer looked otherworldly and his form did not seem to change and shift like earlier before.

The Mature Man came to me. He was actually shorter than I was, but bulkier and in much better shape. His hair was lined with silver and his chest was full of fur all the way down to a magnificent low-hanger.

I could not take my eyes away from It.

“Unlike our High Priest, I am not too good with words. You fucked my Boy here real good… made me horny as hell to watch you two. Are you ready to take the same treatment?”

“What?” I blurted. It was not that I did not like to get fucked, I mean, technically I was still versatile. However I shuddered at the thought of this Bull sodomizing and doing to me the same nasty things I did to the Boy while He and The Priest watched us. Furthermore, I had not been fucked in quite a while, I feared I would not be able to take the Bull’s Big Cock!

Rather than jumping at my ass like I did with Boy, Mature Man acted like time did not matter. He slid his hands around my waist and, grabbing my back, he pulled me towards him. When my chest touched his, I felt a jolt in my nips that made them become unbelievably hard. In vain, my eyes tried to shy away.

“Look at me,” He commanded.

Without question I nervously obeyed.

He kind of looked like me. Or perhaps it was I who looked like Him.

With strong and steady hand, He gently pulled my head and kissed me like no one had kissed me before. He kissed me deep, he kissed me slow. He kissed me passionately, affectionately. It felt so good it almost hurt. He put his arms around me and holding me in a warm embrace, He said:

“I love You, My Son.”

I was moved to tears yet again. He held me tighter.

“That is alright,” He added while caressing my head. Then He whispered:

“Get on your all fours.”

I did what I was told.


Entry was not easy.

“Fight Him not,” admonished the Priest of God from the back. “Resist Him not.”

Mature Man gave me all the time I needed.

I eventually gave completely in.

The Alpha conquered me the way He had kissed me. Slowly did the Warrior subdue and invade my city. Deeply did He thrust, reaching alleys and cellars whose existence I was not yet aware of. When I was completely at His Mercy, the Priest’s Voice resounded again:

“Tonight you are to be destroyed and forged anew. It is written:

‘Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.'”

“Aeneas, Ganymede,” said the Hierophant, “show the initiate the Might and Radiance of our God. Have your way with Him. Do not hold back. Leave no crevice, no corner, no chamber unfulfilled. Shatter any remaining barrier. Silence his Ego.”

“Fill Him to the brim with Cock.”

“Yes, Alexandros,” the Alpha and the Boy replied in unison.

I dived into a whirlpool, a maelstrom of sheer, unbridled homosexual lust. Old and young took turns at sodomizing not just my anus and mouth, but my ears, my heart, my mind. They flooded my soul with poetry, liturgy and obscenity…

…and I could not have enough of it.

“You hereby, in Body, Soul and Mind, belong to Him,” said the High Priest.

“You now belong to Cock.”


From that day on, my name is Diogenes, shibuishi-wearing mystic, philosopher, onanist, libertine and proud acolyte of the God Cock.

Free, at last, from the shackles of my conditioning, guilt, and shame, I am finally able to truly choose who I want to be.

I choose Myself.

I choose Man.

I choose Cock!


Dedicated with love and gratitude to all the Men of the Brotherhood.