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 maric贸n (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 馃槈

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 picture of a naked Man. I knew it then. My heart beat ferociously as my Penis grew into one 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 maric贸n would enjoy sucking another Man’s smelly Pinga, and a maric贸n 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 maric贸n. 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 maric贸n.

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 maric贸n, then, I confess myself the greatest maric贸n of them all!

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

If coming to the Fountain of Power to feed of His Magnificence while praising His Name with willing and grateful mouth makes me a maric贸n, 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 maric贸n, then I step forth to be relentlessly fucked and bred like the unapologetically horny, nasty and dirty Cock-loving maric贸n 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.”

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.

鈥淔ill Him to the brim with Cock.鈥 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.”

Sodomy and Love

Sodomy as a Loving, Bonding Sacrament between Men

February the 14th. Amidst the commercial, cheesy and sugary, but often pleasant, funny and enjoyable expressions of love and friendship, I conclude we only display before others what Society deems acceptable. It is behind closed doors where we dare to voice our deepest, most intimate selves.

Freedom found, at last, in the confines of a room; a mirrored space where we face our bodies, both their beauty and their imperfections, both our confidence and our fear; our untamed fantasies, our hidden desires and, perhaps, most importantly, our need to commune with others and indulge our sexual selves.

For our sexuality is not a mere addition to our personality; it is the foundational framework of the personality that defines every other aspect of it.

As we abandon ourselves to our primeval Lust, by the grace and trust of our relationship with the Other, we naturally close our eyes as we drift within. In the space between all, we become vulnerable, yet one with the Universe, we come before our naked and sacred soul.

We come before ourselves…

…and our Humanity.

It is beautiful beyond words.

Men celebrating their Masculinity at the most intimate level. Love between Men truly is an act of manhood, an act of fraternity. If this is so, then Sodomy has got to be the ultimate bonding sacrament between Men, between Brothers.

Along the spectrum of all stereotypes and identities, the Brother who would receive the Sodomic Sacrament spreads His legs just like the blossoming orchid opens herself before the Sun’s first light, and begs the Man before Him, His Priest, to fill Him, to sate Him, to Honor the Spiritual Covenant. The Priest, the Deliverer, is bound to oblige, for, driven by a similar Lust, His desire, and nature, is to express and reinforce His Masculinity over His receptive Brother by imparting what He desires before all.

It might seem as Masculinity is about taking, but I believe it is the other way around:

Masculinity is, primarily, about giving.

And that is what We Men do during Sodomy: We deliver Power, Pleasure, Energy; We inject our very Lifeforce by wielding and thrusting our Glorious Penises deep into each other! We offer Ourselves in loving and submissive Worship as a Chalice for the Glory of the Divine Masculine, Who We adore and seek to please and to commune with.

Behold the mystery of the Sodomic Sacrament:

At a higher level of awareness and consciousness, the Man You penetrate truly is YOU. Likewise, the Man Who penetrates You, is YOU as well, because The Source truly is ONE and undivided.

…thus You BOTH are GOD.

You are both SPARKS of the DIVINE MASCULINE.

It is in this realization that we begin to understand Sodomy can be embraced as a Ritual, as a Sacrament between Men by which Energy can be exchanged between them. Even at its most animal, at its lewdest, Sodomy, when consensual and respectful of each other’s Spiritual Selves, too is an act of love, for it is the enactment, expression and satisfaction of desires that too originate within the Source, for the Source encompasses and sustains everything that is.

While the word sodomy conjures gruesome mental images of raining fire, of pillars of salt, of eternal damnation, of filth and perversion, we know beauty and ugliness are in the eye of the beholder. The quest to establish universal scales and codes of “Truth” and “Beauty” is doomed to fail from its very beginning, for the only major Truth there is, is the hermetic principle that everything is part of the Source and the Source is in everything.

As Children of the Source, ever do we seek to express, explore and celebrate ourselves!

Hermeticism teaches that everything expresses along a spectrum of polar opposites, which are not exactly two distinct features, but grades of a single quality. Cold and heat, for instance, are but degrees of the energy parameter we call heat. Sodomic desire manifests along a spectrum of receptiveness-assertiveness, thus there is power in the recognition and acceptance of the direction we tend to lean to. Still, one of patriarchy’s greatest flaws is the idea that the male/assertive pole is superior to the female/receptive one. However, since BOTH are part of the WHOLE, and BOTH polarities exist within each of us, we know this to be a terrible mistake that has brought much suffering to BOTH men and women. In sexual expression, our roles are not necessarily fixed, for human sexuality is fluid. As a versatile that leans towards sweet, slutty submission, it never ceases to amaze how much I can enjoy penetrating another Man as I whisper in His ears:

You are mine now.

Those of Us who love uninhibited, unbridled anal sex are Sodomic Revelers who take great pride and delight in the lascivious indulgence of the Flesh. We defeat the poisons of guilt and shame and merrily offer ourselves to the satisfaction of our primal, animal desire to copulate not for reproduction, but for the pleasure we draw from Sodomy itself.

There is hardly a more masculine act.

The uninitiated looks at the picture above and grimaces in disgust and disapproval.

The Sodomic Cock Worshiper, in turn, grins, nods and approves. Where others see ugliness, abomination and sin, He sees the beauty, harmony and benediction of two brave and honest Men celebrating Masculinity and getting from each other exactly what they crave, what they need.

The Matrix hates Sodomy, as well as all other acts of Homosexual Male Love, because it brings us Men together, and that is detrimental to the agenda of separation, manipulation and control.

Listen not to those who are too eager to prescribe how you should, or must live your life. Listen instead to the voice that invites you to hold your buddy in your arms and admire the miracle that He is.

For Men, there can be no romance without sex.

Partake of Sacred Sodomy with unbridled Lust and gratitude. Tell your partner how beautiful He is, how much you love to fuck Him, how much you love to be fucked by Him, how much you love His Cock.

Never take your sexual partner for granted.

Honor Him. Respect Him. Worship the God in Him.

God is not an external entity from which you are separated, disconnected.

He is literally sitting within you, for you are a part of Him.

From my October 2017 essay called The God Who Loves You:

“He knows you better than anyone because He is You. He is not there spying on You to make a list of all Your “sins” and “good deeds” to punish You or reward You in an extraterrestrial heaven or hell.

Behold THIS World, the Paradise created for the celebration of life, of pleasure, the world Patriarchy has raped and laid to waste, the world they are destroying with our complicity.

Every act of rebelliousness, like Sodomy, is a way to say “Fuck You” to their institutions and lies.

Cock knows you better because He is the MALE and the HOMOSEXUAL SEX DRIVE in YOU.

He knows when You need tender love-making鈥

鈥nd He knows when You need to be pinned against a surface and literally have the shit fucked out of You.

He understands Your Needs; He celebrates them and wants to satisfy them.

Between consenting Men, they are all acts of love.”

The Triumph of the God Cock

May 2019 be the year you defeat Shame

Ever-beautiful Donny Wright proudly displaying his Cock for all who worship Him!

Last Saturday, December 30th, 2018, I went to the Bathhouse to celebrate the end of the year by worshiping Cock, my God. A receptive homosexual by nature, I longed for the Lord to bless my hole and inject a blast of sheer, empowering virility into me. Other Men, knowingly or unknowingly, had also gathered for the last Cock Rites of the year. Men were so hungry for the God Cock that night… their hunger was astonishing to witness, amusing even. My Dick surprisingly ended up deep up the ass of three other Men, rather than the other way around.

They wanted Cock so bad, I had to oblige!

In Sacred Sodomy, I will always prefer to bottom; it is what comes more naturally to me. However, nobody needs to explain to me how fucking good it feels to subdue a fellow Man with your Penis for I know it from first-hand experience. From time to time, I do love a fellow slut begging for more of my Dick as I dominate Him sexually and verbally.

The third Man I played with, a chap from Colombia, was a Pig, just like myself, but sluttier! Pigs make an instant connection. You can tell a fellow Pig by something in their eyes, their lewd demeanor, their scent, their enthusiastic vocalizing, their fiery hunger, their lack of shame and their love for kinks. Pigs happily allow for the animal to take charge and are more concerned with sharing and indulging their primal lust than passing judgment on people and their looks.

Two pigs together go wild, like weasels in heat.

Oh, my fellow Pig of a Brother, if only you could read this note… Thank you for the best sex I had in the entire year!!!

Now to the reason why I am sharing this anecdote. My Brother and I had been fucking, rimming, fingering etc. in a rather public, common space within the bathhouse. At the beginning I was quite conscious and uncomfortable about people watching us, but I eventually got so aroused I did not pay mind to anything or anyone other than my Lover. When we took a break, people who had either heard us (I had been quite verbal), or seen us, looked at me funny…

Was it disgust? Was it admiration? Was it envy? Was it bewilderment? Was it arousal? Was it curiosity? Was it disapproval? I did not care to find out, but they would not stop staring at me. As I walked with my semi-erect Penis (I hadn’t come yet and we would fuck some more later), my aura was tingling with satisfaction, pride, joy and radiant, sexual energy.

I do not necessarily endorse any of the play my Brother and I partook of, except for one: the defeat of shame.

Society has conditioned you to hate yourself because you masturbate, because you love men, because you are not “man enough,” because your Cock is average or small in size, because your body does not match a canon, because you speak funny, because you have fetishes and other “perversions,” because you fuck men, or because you love to be fucked by them, because you are wicked, sinful, dirty. You have been taught to hate yourself even within our various marginalized subcultures, because you are different, because you disagree in political issues, because you like sex too much or too little, because you only bottom or because you only top, because you are a bear or because you are twink, because you are effeminate, because you like BDSM, because you are solosexual, because you are bisexual, because you sometimes like to bareback, because you will not settle with just one partner or because you prefer just one sexual partner, because you are not dashingly funny, because you do not look a certain way, because you are rough around the edges, etc.

Because you won’t conform to somebody’s standards.

The last three years I have been working on the internalized shame of my sexuality. I have so many Men, so many Brothers, to thank for their aiding me, directly or indirectly, in finding myself. Brothers who held and embraced me in their arms. Brothers who knelt before me and worshiped my Penis. Brothers who taught me the art of male touch. Brothers who spread my legs and mercilessly shoved their Cocks into my hungry asshole. Brothers that showed me there are many other Pigs like myself who absolutely love me for what I am. Brothers who listened to me when I needed it the most. Brothers that gave me a hand when I needed it the most. Brothers who created wonderful erotic art. Brothers who created lewd pornography and music. Brothers who inspired my creation of lascivious audio files. Brothers who revealed to me masturbation as a sacred right and practice. Brothers who taught me being a slut is a gift. Brothers who taught me of Male and Cock Worship and welcomed me into their community…

Brothers that taught me Cock is God, and God is Cock.

I still have a long way to go down my unique, individual path. Nevertheless, my Brother, may 2019 be the year you too defeat shame.

Beyond fear, beyond false morals, when Love, Honesty, Respect and Acceptance of Ourselves and The Other are held in the highest regard, Lust too is revealed as an aspect of the Divine. Wield the Celebration of Cock Lust and its boundless Pleasure as a Flame to consume the shame that has kept you from being Yourself.

“Allow yourself to be yourself.” Thank you, Matthew Mason!

Dare to be Yourself!

To a Cock-blessed 2019!

Hail the God Cock!