Satan, as a god, demi-god, personal saviour, or whatever you wish to call him, was invented by the formulators of every religion on the face of the earth for only one purpose - to preside over man's so-called wicked activities and situations here on earth. Consequently, anything resulting in physical or mental gratification was defined as "evil" - thus assuring a lifetime of unwarrented guilt for everyone!
So, if "evil" they have named us, evil we are - and so what! The Satanic Age is upon us! Why not take advantage of it and LIVE!* LOVE AND HATE SATANISM represents kindness to those who deserve it instead of love wasted on ingrates!
You cannot love everyone; it is ridiculous to think you can. If you love everyone and everything you lose your natural powers of selection and wind up being a pretty poor judge of character and quality. If anything is used too freely it loses its true meaning. Therefore, the Satanist believes you should love strongly and completely those who deserve your love, but never turn the other cheek to your enemy!
Love is one of the most intense emotions felt by man; another is hate. Forcing yourself to feel indiscriminate love is very unnatural. If you try to love everyone you only lessen your feelings for those who deserve your love. Repressed hatred can lead to many physical and emotional ailments. By learning to release your hatred towards those who deserve it, you cleanse yourself of these malignant emotions and need not take your pent-up hatred out on your loved ones.
There has never been a great "love" movement in the history of the world that hasn't wound up killing countless numbers of people, we must assume, to prove how much they loved them! Every hypocrite who ever walked the earth has had pockets buldging with love!
Every pharisaical religionist claims to love his enemies, even though when wronged he consoles himself by thinking "God will punish them". Instead of admitting to themselves that they are capable of hating their foes and treating them in the manner they deserve, they say: "There, but for the grace of God, go I," and "pray" for them. Why should we humiliate and lower ourselves by drawing such inaccurate comparisons?
Satanism has been thought of as being synonymous with cruelty and brutality. This is so only because people are afraid to face the truth - and the truth is that human beings are not all benign or all loving. Just because the Satanist admits he is capable of both love and hate, he is considered hateful. On the contrary, because he is able to give vent to his hatred through ritualized expression, he is far more capable of love - the deepest kind of love. By honestly recognizing and admitting to both the hate and the love he feels, there is no confusing one emotion with the other. Without being able to experience one of these emotions, you cannot fully experience the other.
SATANIC SEX MUCH controversy has arisen over the Satanic views on "free love". It is often assumed that sexual activity is the most important factor of the Satanic religion, and that willingness to participate in sex-orgies is a prerequisite for becoming a Satanist. Nothing could be farther from the truth! In fact, opportunists who have no deeper interest in Satanism than merely the sexual aspects are emphatically discouraged.
Satanism does advocate sexual freedom, but only in the true sense of the word. Free love, in the Satanic concept, means exactly that - freedom to either be faithful to one person or to indulge your sexual desires with as many others as you feel is necessary to satisfy your particular needs.
Satanism does not encourage orgiastic activity or extramarital affairs for those to whom they do not come naturally. For many, it would be very unnatural and detrimental to be unfaithful to their chosen mates. To others, it would be frustrating to be bound sexually to just one person. Each person must decide for himself what form of sexual activity best suits his individual needs. Self-deceitfully forcing yourself to be adulterous or to have sex partners when not married just for the sake of proving others (or worse yet, to yourself) that you are emancipated from sexual guilt is just as wrong, by Satanic standards, as leaving any sexual need unfulfilled because of ingrained feelings of guilt.
Many of those who are constantly preoccupied with demonstrating their emancipation from sexual guilt are, in reality, held in even greater sexual bondage than those who simply accept sexual activity as a natural part of life and don't make a big to-do over their sexual freedom. For example, it is an established fact that the nymphomaniac (every man's dream girl and heroine of all lurid novels) is not sexually free, but is actually frigid and roves from man to man because she is too inhibited to ever find complete sexual release.
Another misconception is the idea that ability to engage in group sexual activity is the indicative of sexual freedom. All contemporary free-sex groups have one thing in common - discouragement of fetishistic or deviant activity.
Actually, the most forced examples of non-fetishistic sexual activity thinly disguised as "freedom" have a common format. Each of the participants in an orgy removes all clothing, following the example set forth by one, and mechanically fornicate - also following the leader's example. None of the performers consider that their "emancipated" form of sex might be regarded as regimented and infantile by non-members who fail to equate uniformity with freedom.
The Satanist realizes that if he is to be a sexual connoiseur (and truly free from all sexual guilt) he cannot be stifled by the so-called sexual revolutionists any more than he can by the prudery of his guilt-ridden society. These free-sex clubs miss the whole point of sexual freedom. Unless sexual activity can be expressed on an individual basis (which includes personal fetishes), there is absolutely no purpose in belonging to a sexual freedom organization.
Satanism condones any type of sexual activity which properly satisfies your individual desires - be it heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, or even asexual, if you choose. Satanism also sanctions any fetish or deviation which will enhance your sex-life, so long as it involves no one who does not wish to be involved.
The prevalence of deviant and/or fetishistic behavior in our society would stagger the imagination of the sexually naïve. There are more sexual variants than the unenlightened individual can perceive: transvestism, sadism, masochism, urolagnia, exhibitionism - to name only a few of the more predominant. Everyone has some form of fetish, but because they are unaware of the preponderance of fetishistic activity in our society, they feel they are depraved if they submit to their "unnatural" yearnings.*
Even the asexual has a deviation - his asexuality. It is far more abnormal to have a lack of sexual desire (unless illness or old-age, or another valid reason has caused the wane) than it is to be sexually promiscuous. However, if a Satanist chooses sexual sublimination above overt sexual expression, that is entirely his own affair. In many cases of sexual sublimination (or asexuality), any attempt to emancipate himself sexually would prove devastating to the asexual.
Asexuals are invariably sexually sublimated by their jobs or hobbies. All the energy and driving interest which would normally be devoted to sexual activity is channelled into other pastimes or into their chosen occupations. If a person favors other interests over sexual activity, it is his right, and no one is justified in condemning him for it. However, the person should at least recognize the fact that this is a sexual sublimation.
Because of lack of opportunity for expression, many secret sexual desires never progress beyond the fantasy stage. Lack of release often leads to compulsion and, therefore, a great number of people devise undetectable methods of giving vent to their urges. Just because most fetishistic activity is not outwardly apparent, the sexually unsophisticated should not delude himself into thinking it does not exist. To cite examples of the ingenious techniques used: The male transvestite will indulge in his fetish by wearing feminine undergarments while going about his daily activities; or the masochistic woman might wear a rubber girdle several sizes too small, so she may derive sexual pleasure from her fetishistic discomfort throughout the day, with no one the wiser. These illustrations are far tamer and more prevalent examples than others which could have been given.
Satanism encourages any form of sexual expression you may desire, so long as it hurts no one else. This statement must be qualified, to avoid misinterpretation. By not hurting another, this does not include the unintentional hurt felt by those who might not agree with your views on sex, because of their anxieties regarding sexual morality. Naturally, you should avoid offending others who mean a great deal to you, such as prudish friends and relatives. However, if you earnestly endeavor to escape hurting them, and despite your efforts they accidentally find out, you cannot be held responsible, and therefore should feel no guilt as a result of either your sexual convictions, or their being hurt because of those convictions. If you are in constant fear of offending the prudish by your attitude towards sex, then there is no sense in trying to emancipate yourself from sexual guilt. However, no purpose is served by flaunting your permissiveness.
The other exception to the rule regards dealings with masochists. A masochist derives pleasure from being hurt; so denying the masochist his pleasure-through-pain hurts him just as much as actual physical pain hurts the non-masochist. The story of the truly cruel sadist illustrates this point: The masochist says to the sadist, "beat me." To which the merciless sadist replies, "NO!" If a person wants to be hurt and enjoys suffering, then there is no reason not to indulge him in his wont.
The term "sadist" in popular usage describes one who obtains pleasure from indiscriminate brutality. Actually, though, a true sadist is selective. He carefully chooses from the vast reserve of appropriate victims, and takes great delight in giving those who thrive on misery the fulfillment of their desires. The "well-adjusted" sadist is epicurean in selecting those on whom his energies will be well-spent! If a person is healthy enough to admit he is a masochist and enjoys being enslaved and whipped, the real sadist is glad to oblige!
Aside from the foregoing exceptions, the Satanist would not intentionally hurt others by violating their sexual rights. If you attempt to impose your sexual desires upon others who do not welcome your advances, you are infringing upon their sexual freedom. Therefore, Satanism does not advocate rape, child molesting, sexual defilement of animals, or any other form of sexual activity which entails the participation of those who are unwilling or whose innocence or naïveté would allow them to be intimidated or misguided into doing something against their wishes.
If all parties involved are mature adults who willingly take full responsibility for their actions and voluntarily engage in a given form of sexual expression - even if it is generally considered taboo - then there is no reason for them to repress their sexual inclinations.
If you are aware of all the implications, advantages, and disadvantages, and are certain your actions will hurt no one who does not wish or deserve to be hurt, you have no cause to suppress your sexual preferences.
Just as no two people are exactly the same in their choice of diet or have the same capacity for the consumption of food, sexual tastes and appetites vary from person to person. No person or society has the right to set limitations on the sexual standards or the frequency of sexual activity of another. Proper sexual conduct can only be judged within the context of each individual situation. Therefore, what one person considers sexually correct and moral may be frustrating to another. The reverse is also true; one person may have great sexual prowess, but it is unjust for him to belittle another whose sexual capacity may not equal his own, and inconsiderate for him to impose himself upon the other person, i.e., the man who has a voracious sexual appetite, but whose wife's sexual needs do not match his own. It is unfair for him to expect her to enthusiastically respond to his overtures; but she must display the same degree of thoughtfulness. In the instances when she does not feel great passion, she should either passively, but pleasantly, accept him sexually, or raise no complaint if he chooses to find his needed release elsewhere - including auto-erotic practices.
The ideal relationship is one in which the people are deeply in love with one another and are sexually compatible. However, perfect relationships are relatively uncommon. It is important to point out here that spiritual love and sexual love can, but do not necessarily, go hand in hand. If there is a certain amount of sexual compatibility, often it is limited; and some, but not all, of the sexual desires will be fulfilled.
There is no greater sexual pleasure than that derived from association with someone you deeply love, if you are sexually well-suited. If you are not suited to one another sexually, though, it must be stressed that lack of sexual compatibility does not indicate lack of spiritual love. One can, and often does, exist without the other. As a matter of fact, often one member of a couple will resort to outside sexual activity because he deeply loves his mate, and wishes to avoid hurting or imposing upon his loved one. Deep spiritual love is enriched by sexual love, and it is certainly a necessary ingredient for any satisfactory relationship; but because of differing sexual predilictions, outside sexual activity or masturbation sometimes provides a needed supplement.
Masturbation, considered a sexual taboo by many people, creates a guilt problem not easily dealt with. Much emphasis must be placed on this subject, as it constitutes an extremely important ingredient of many a successful magical working.
Ever since the Judaeo-Christian Bible described the sin of Onan (Gen. 38:7-10), man has considered the seriousness and consequences of the "solitary vice". Even though modern sexologists have explained the sin of Onan as simply coitus interruptus, the damage has been done through centuries of theological misinterpretation.
Aside from actual sex crimes, masturbation is one of the most frowned upon sexual acts. During the last century, innumerable texts were written describing the horrific consequences of masturbation. Practically all physical or mental illnesses were attributed to the evils of masturbation. Pallor of the complexion, shortness of breath, furtive expression, sunken chest, nervousness, pimples and loss of appetite are only a few of the many characteristics supposedly resulting from masturbation; total physical and mental collapse was assured if one did not heed the warnings in those handbooks for young men.
The lurid descriptions in such texts would be almost humorous, were it not for the unhappy fact that even though contemporary sexologists, doctors, writers, etc. have done much to remove the stigma of masturbation, the deep-seated guilts induced by the nonsense in those sexual primers have been only partially erased. A large percentage of people, especially those over forty, cannot emotionally accept the fact that masturbation is natural and healthy, even if they now accept it intellectually; and they, in turn, relate their repugnance, often subconsciously, to their children.
It was thought that one would go insane if, despite numerous admonitions, his auto-erotic practices persisted. This preposterous myth grew from reports of wide-spread masturbation by the inmates of mental institutions. It was assumed that since almost all incurably insane people masturbated, it was their masturbation that had driven them mad. No one ever stopped to consider the lack of sexual partners of the opposite sex and the freedom from inhibition, which is a characteristic of extreme insanity, were the real reasons for the masturbatory practices of the insane.
Many people would rather have their mates seek outside sexual activity than perform auto-erotic acts because of their own guilt feelings, the mate's repugnance towards having them engage in masturbation, or the fear of their mate's repugnance - although in a surprising number of cases, a vicarious thrill is obtained from the knowledge that the mate is having sexual experiences with outsiders - although this is seldom admitted.
If stimulation is provided by envisioning one's mate sexually engaged with others, this should be brought out into the open where both parties may gain from such activities. However, if the prohibition of masturbation is only due to guilt feelings on the part of one or both parties, they should make every attempt to erase those guilts - or utilize them. Many relationships might be saved from destruction if the people involved did not feel guilt about performing the natural act of masturbation.
Masturbation is regarded as evil because it produces pleasure derived from intentionally fondling a "forbidden" area of the body by one's own hand. The guilt feelings accompanying most sexual acts can be assuaged by the religiously-acceptable contention that your sensual delights are necessary to produce off-spring - even though you cautiously watch the calendar for the "safe" days. You cannot, however, placate yourself with this rationale while engaging in masturbatory practices.
No matter what you've been told about the "immaculate conception" - even if blind faith allows you to swallow this absurdity - you know full well if you are to produce a child, there must be sexual contact with a person of the opposite sex! If you feel guilty for committing the "original sin," you certainly will feel even deeper guilt for performing a sex act only for self-gratification, with no intention of creating children.
The Satanist fully realizes why religionists declare masturbation to be sinful. Like all other natural acts people will do it, no matter how severely reprimanded. Causing guilt is an important facet of their malicious scheme to obligate people to atone for "sins" by paying the mortgages on temples of abstinence!
Even if a person is no longer struggling under the burden of religiously-induced guilt (or thinks he isn't), modern man still feels shame if he yields to his masturbatory desires. A man may feel robbed of his masculinity if he satisfies himself auto-erotically rather than engaging in the competitive game of woman chasing. A woman may satisfy herself sexually but yearns for the ego-gratification that comes from the sport of seduction. Neither the quasi Casanova nor bogus vamp feels adequate when "reduced" to masturbation for sexual gratification; both would prefer even an inadequate partner. Satanically speaking, though, it is far better to engage in a perfect fantasy than to cooperate in an unrewarding experience with another person. With masturbation, you are in complete control of the situation.
Many churches with some of the largest congregations have the most hand-clapping, sensual music - also Satanically inspired. After all, the Devil has always had the best tunes.
Church picnics, despite all of Aunt Martha's talk about the Lord's Bountiful Harvest, are nothing more than a good excuse for Sunday gluttony; and everyone knows that lots more than Bible reading goes on in the bushes.
The fund-raising adjunct to many church bazaars is commonly known as a carnival, which used to mean the celebration of the flesh; now a carnival is okay because the money goes to the church so that it can preach against the temptations of the Devil! It will be said that these things are only pagan devices and ceremonies - that the Christians borrowed them. True, but the Pagans revelled in the delights of the flesh, and were condemned by the very same people who celebrate their rituals, but call them by different names.
Priests and ministers are in the front lines of peace demonstrations, and lying on railroad tracks in front of trains carrying war materials, with as much dedication as their brothers of the cloth, from the same seminaries, who are blessing the bullets and bombs and fighting men as chaplains in the armed forces. Someone must be wrong, someplace. Could it be that Satan is the one qualified to act as accuser? Certainly they named him that!
When a puppy reaches maturity it becomes a dog; when ice melts it is called water; when twelve months have been used up, we get a new calendar with the proper chronological name; when "magic" becomes scientific fact we refer to it as medicine, astronomy, etc. When one name is no longer appropriate for a given thing it is only logical to change it to a new one which better fits the subject. Why, then, do we not follow suit in the area of religion? Why continue to call a religion the same name when the tenets of that religion no longer fit the original one? Or, if religion does preach the same things that it always has, but its followers practice nearly none of its teachings, why do they continue to call themselves by the name given to followers of that religion?
If you do not believe in what your religion teaches, why continue to support a belief which is contradictory with your feelings. You would never vote for a person or issue you did not believe in, so why cast your ecclesiastical vote for a religion which is not consistent with your convictions? You have no right to complain about a political situation you have voted for or supported in any way - which includes sitting back and complacently agreeing with neighbors who approve the situation, just because you are too lazy or cowardly to speak your mind. So it is with religious balloting. Even if you cannot be aggressively honest about your opinions because of unfavorable consequences from employers, community leaders, etc., you can, at least, be honest with yourself. In the privacy of your own home and with close friends you must support religion which has YOUR best interests at heart.
"Satanism is based on a very sound philosophy," say the emancipated. "But why call it Satanism? Why not call it something like 'Humanism' or a name that would have the connotation of a witchcraft group, something a little more esoteric - something less blatant." There is more than one reason for this. Humanism is not a religion. It is simply a way of life with no ceremony or dogma. Satanism has both ceremony and dogma. Dogma, as will be explained, is necessary.
Satanism differs greatly from all other so-called white-light, "white" witchcraft or magical groups in the world today. These self-righteous and supercilious religions protest that their members use the powers of magic only for altruistic purposes. Satanists look with disdain upon "white" witchcraft groups because they feel that altruism is sinning on the lay-away plan. It is unnatural not to have desire to gain things for yourself. Satanism represents a form of controlled selfishness. This does not mean that you never do anything for anyone else. If you do something to make someone for whom you care happy, his happiness will give you a sense of gratification.
Satanism advocates practicing a modified form of the Golden Rule. Our interpretation of this rule is: "Do unto others as they do unto you"; because if you "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you," and they, in turn, treat you badly, it goes against human nature to continue to treat them with consideration. You should do unto others as you would have them do unto you, but if your courtesy is not returned, they should be treated with the wrath they deserve.
White witchcraft groups say that if you curse a person, it will return to you three-fold, come home to roost, or in some way boomerang back to the sender. This is yet another indication of the guilt-ridden philosophy which is held by these neo-Pagan, pseudo-Christian groups. White witches want to delve into witchcraft, but cannot divorce themselves from the stigma attached to it. Therefore, they call themselves white magicians, and base seventy-five per cent of their philosophy on the trite and hackneyed tenets of Christianity. Anyone who pretends to be interested in magic or the occult for reasons other that gaining personal power is the worst kind of hypocrite. The Satanist respects Christianity for, at least, being consistent in its guilt-ridden philosophy, but can only feel contempt for the people who attempt to appear emancipated from guilt by joining a witchcraft group, and then practice the same basic philosophy as Christianity.
White magic is supposedly utilized only for good or unselfish purposes, and black magic, we are told, is used only for selfish or "evil" reasons. Satanism draws no such dividing line. Magic is magic, be it used to help or hinder. The Satanist, being the magician, should have the ability to decide what is just, and then apply the powers of magic to attain his goals.
During white magical ceremonies, the practitioners stand within a pentagram to protect themselves from the "evil" forces which they call upon for help. To the Satanist, it seems a bit two-faced to call on these forces for help, while at the same time protecting yourself from the very powers you have asked for assistance. The Satanist realizes that only by putting himself in league with these forces can be fully and unhypocritically utilize the Powers of Darkness to his best advantage.
In a Satanic magical ceremony, the participants do NOT: join hands and dance "ring around the rosy" in a circle; burn candles of various colors for various wishes; call out the names of "Father, Son and Holy Ghost" while supposedly practicing Black Arts; pick a "Saint" for their personal guide in obtaining help for their problems; dunk themselves in smelly oils and hope the money comes in; meditate so they can arrive at a "great spiritual awakening"; recite long incantations with the name of Jesus thrown in for good measure, between every few words, etc., etc., etc., ad nauseam!
BECAUSE - This is NOT the way to practice Satanic magic. If you cannot divorce yourself from hypocritical self-deceit, you will never be successful as a magician, much less a Satanist.
The Satanic religion has not merely lifted the coin - it has flipped it completely over. Therefore, why should it support the very principles to which it is completely opposed by calling itself anything other than a name which is totally in keeping with the reversed doctrines which make up the Satanic philosophy? Satanism is not a white light religion; it is a religion of the flesh, the mundane, the carnal - all of which are ruled by Satan, the personification of the Left Hand Path.
Inevitably, the next question asked is: "Granted, you can't call it humanism because humanism is not a religion; but why even have a religion in the first place if all you do is what comes naturally, anyway? Why not just do it?"
Modern man has come a long way; he has become disenchanted with the nonsensical dogmas of past religions. We are living in an enlightened age. Psychiatry has made great strides in enlightening man about his true personality. We are living in an era of intellectual awareness unlike any the world has ever seen.
This is all very well and good, BUT - there is one flaw in this new state of awareness. It is one thing to accept something intellectually, but to accept the same thing emotionally is an entirely different matter. The one need that psychiatry cannot fill is man's inherent need for emotionalizing through dogma. Man needs ceremony and ritual, fantasy and enchantment. Psychiatry, despite all the good it has done, has robbed man of wonder and fantasy which religion, in the past, has provided.
Satanism, realizing the current needs of man, fills the large grey void between religion and psychiatry. The Satanic philosophy combines the fundamentals of psychology and good, honest emotionalizing, or dogma. It provides man with his much needed fantasy. There is nothing wrong with dogma, providing it is not based on ideas and actions which go completely against human nature.
The quickest way of traveling between two points is in a straight line. If all the guilts that have been built up can be turned into advantages, it eliminates the need for intellectual purging of the psyche in an attempt to cleanse it from these repressions. Satanism is the only religion known to man that accepts man as he is, and promotes the rationale of turning a bad thing into a good thing rather than bending over backwards to eliminate the bad thing.
Therefore, after intellectually evaluating your problems through common sense and drawing on what psychiatry has taught us, if you still cannot emotionally release yourself from unwarranted guilt, and put your theories into action, then you should learn to make your guilt work for you. You should act upon your natural instincts, and then, if you cannot perform without feeling guilty, revel in your guilt. This may sound like a contradiction in terms, but if you will think about it, guilt can often add a fillip to the senses. Adults would do well to take a lesson from children. Children often take great delight in doing something they know they are not supposed to.
Yes, times have changed, but man hasn't. The basics of Satanism have always existed. The only thing that is new is the formal organization of a religion based on the universal traits of man. For centuries, magnificent structures of stone, concrete, mortar, and steel have been devoted to man's abstinence. It is high time that human beings stopped fighting themselves, and devoted their time to building temples designed for man's indulgences.
Even though times have changed, and always will, man remains basically the same. For two thousand years man has done penance for something he never should have had to feel guilty about in the first place. We are tired of denying ourselves the pleasures of life which we deserve. Today, as always, man needs to enjoy himself here and now, instead of waiting for his rewards in heaven. So, why not have a religion based on indulgence? Certainly, it is consistent with the nature of the beast. We are no longer supplicating weaklings trembling before an unmerciful "God" who cares not whether we live or die. We are self-respecting, prideful people - we are Satanists! HELL, THE DEVIL, AND HOW TO SELL YOUR SOUL SATAN has certainly been the best friend the church has ever had, as he has kept it in business all these years. The false doctrine of Hell and the Devil has allowed the Protestant and Catholic Churches to flourish far too long. Without a devil to point their fingers at, religionists of the right hand path would have nothing with which to threaten their followers. "Satan leads you to temptation"; "Satan is the prince of evil"; "Satan is vicious, cruel, brutal," they warn. "If you give in to the temptations of the devil, you will surely suffer eternal damnation and roast in Hell."
The semantic meaning of Satan is the "adversary" or "opposition" or the "accuser". The very word "devil" comes from the Indian devi which means "god". Satan represents opposition to all religions which serve to frustrate and condemn man for his natural instincts. He has been given an evil role simply because he represents the carnal, earthly, and mundane aspects of life.
Satan, the chief devil of the Western World, was originally an angel whose duty was to report human delinquencies to God. It was not until the Fourteenth Century that he began to be depicted as an evil deity who was part man and part animal, with goat-like horns and hooves. Before Christianity gave him the names of Satan, Lucifer, etc., the carnal side of man's nature was governed by the god which was then called Dionysus, or Pan, depicted as a satyr or faun, by the Greeks. Pan was originally the "good guy", and symbolized fertility and fecundity.
Whenever a nation comes under a new form of government, the heroes of the past become villains of the present. So it is with religion. The earliest Christians believed that the Pagan deities were devils, and to employ them was to use "black magic". Miraculous heavenly events they termed "white magic"; this was the sole distinction between the two. The old gods did not die, they fell into Hell and became devils. The bogey, goblin, or bugaboo used to frighten children is derived from the Slavonic "Bog" which means "god", as does Bhaga in Hindu.
Many pleasures revered before the advent of Christianity were condemned by the new religion. It required little changeover to transform the horns and cloven hooves of Pan into a most convincing devil! Pan's attributes could be neatly changed into charged-with-punishment sins, and so the metamorphosis was complete.
The association of the goat with the Devil is found in the Christian Bible, where the holiest day of the year, the Day of Atonement, was celebrated by casting lots for two goats "without blemish", one to be offered to the Lord, and one to Azazel. The goat carrying the sins of the people was driven into the desert and became a "scapegoat". This is the origin of the goat which is still used in lodge ceremonies today as it was also used in Egypt, where once a year it was sacrificed to a God.
The devils of mankind are many, and their origins diversified. The performance of Satanic ritual does not embrace the calling forth of demons; this practice is followed only by those who are in fear of the very forces they conjure.
Supposedly, demons are malevolent spirits with attributes conductive to the deterioration of the people or events that they touch upon. The Greek word demon meant a guardian spirit or source of inspiration, and to be sure, later theologians invented legion upon legion of these harbingers of inspiration - all wicked.
An indication of the cowardice of "magicians" of the right-hand path is the practice of calling upon a particular demon (who would supposedly be a minion of the devil) to do his bidding. The assumption is that the demon, being only a flunky of the devil, is easier to control. Occult lore states that only the most formidably "protected" or insanely foolhardy sorcerer would try to call forth the Devil himself.
The Satanist does not furtively call upon these "lesser" devils, but brazenly invokes those who people that infernal army of long-standing outrage - the Devils themselves!
Theologians have catalogued some of the names of devils in their lists of demons, as might be expected, but the roster which follows contains the names and origins of the Gods and Goddesses called upon, which make up a large part of the occupancy of the Royal Palace of Hell:
THE FOUR CROWN PRINCES OF HELL
SATAN - (Hebrew) adversary, opposite, accuser, Lord of fire, the inferno, the south LUCIFER - (Roman) bringer of light, enlightenment, the air, the morning star, the east BELIAL - (Hebrew) without a master, baseness of the earth, independence, the north LEVIATHAN - (Hebrew) the serpent out of the deeps, the sea, the west
THE INFERNAL NAMES
Abaddon - (Hebrew) the destroyer Adramelech - Samarian devil Ahpuch - Mayan devil Ahriman - Mazdean devil Amon - Egyptian ram-headed god of life and reproduction Apollyon - Greek synonym for Satan, the arch fiend Asmodeus - Hebrew devil of sensuality and luxury, originally "creature of judgement" Astaroth - Phoenician goddess of lasciviousness, equivalent of Babylonian Ishtar Azazel - (Hebrew) taught man to make weapons of war, introduced cosmetics Baalberith - Canaanite Lord of the covenant who was later made a devil Balaam - Hebrew Devil of avarice and greed Baphomet - worshipped by the Templars as symbolic of Satan Bast - Egyptian goddess of pleasure represented by the cat Beelzebub - (Hebrew) Lord of the Flies, taken from symbolism of the scarab Behemoth - Hebrew personification of Satan in the form of an elephant Beherit - Syriac name for Satan Bilé - Celtic god of Hell Chemosh - national god of Moabites, later a devil Cimeries - rides a black horse and rules Africa Coyote - American Indian devil Dagon - Philistine avenging devil of the sea Damballa - Voodoo serpent god Demogorgon - Greek name of the devil, it is said should not be known to mortals Diabolus - (Greek) "flowing downwards" Dracula - Romanian name for devil Emma-O - Japanese ruler of Hell Euronymous - Greek prince of death Fenriz - son of Loki, depicted as a wolf Gorgo - dim. of Demogorgon, Greek name of the devil Haborym - Hebrew synonym for Satan Hecate - Greek goddess of the underworld and witchcraft Ishtar - Babylonian goddess of fertility Kali - (Hindu) daughter of Shiva, high priestess of the Thuggees Lilith - Hebrew female devil, Adam's first wife who taught him the ropes Loki - Teutonic devil Mammon - Aramaic god of wealth and profit Mania - Etruscan goddess of Hell Mantus - Etruscan god of Hell Marduk - god of the city of Babylon Mastema - Hebrew synonym for Satan Melek Taus - Yezidi devil Mephistopheles - (Greek) he who shuns the light, q. v. Faust Metztli - Aztec goddess of the night Mictian - Aztec god of death Midgard - son of Loki, depicted as a serpent Milcom - Ammonite devil Moloch - Phoenician and Canaanite devil Mormo - (Greek) King of the Ghouls, consort of Hecate Naamah - Hebrew female devil of seduction Nergal - Babylonian god of Hades Nihasa - American Indian devil Nija - Polish god of the underworld O-Yama - Japanese name for Satan Pan - Greek god of lust, later relegated to devildom Pluto - Greek god of the underworld Proserpine - Greek queen of the underworld Pwcca - Welsh name for Satan Rimmon - Syrian devil worshipped at Damascus Sabazios - Phrygian origin, identified with Dionysos, snake worship Saitan - Enochian equivalent of Satan Sammael - (Hebrew) "venom of God" Samnu - Central Asian devil Sedit - American Indian devil Sekhmet - Egyptian goddess of vengeance Set - Egyptian devil Shaitan - Arabic name for Satan Shiva - (Hindu) the destroyer Supay - Inca god of the underworld T'an-mo - Chinese counterpart to the devil, covetousness, desire Tchort - Russian name for Satan, "black god" Tezcatlipoca - Aztec god of Hell Thamuz - Sumerian god who later was relegated to devildom Thoth - Egyptian god of magic Tunrida - Scandanavian female devil Typhon - Greek personification of Satan Yaotzin - Aztec god of Hell Yen-lo-Wang - Chinese ruler of Hell The devils of past religions have always, at least in part, had animal characteristics, evidence of man's constant need to deny that he too is an animal, for to do so would serve a mighty blow to his impoverished ego.
The pig was despised by the Jews and the Egyptians. It symbolized the gods Frey, Osiris, Adonis, Persephone, Attis, and Demeter, and was sacrificed to Osiris and the Moon. But, in time, it became degraded into a devil. The Phoenicians worhipped a fly god, Baal, from which comes the devil, Beelzebub. Both Baal and Beelzebub are identical to the dung beetle or scarabaeus of the Egyptians which appeared to resurrect itself, much as the mythical bird, the phoenix, rose from its own ashes. The ancient Jews believed, through their contact with the Persians, that the two great forces in the world were Ahura-Mazda, the god of fire, light, life, and goodness; and Ahriman, the serpent, the god of darkness, destruction, death, and evil. These, and countless other examples, not only depict man's devils as animals, but also show his need to sacrifice the original animal gods and demote them to his devils.
At the time of the Reformation, in the Sixteenth Century, the alchemist, Dr. Johann Faustus, discovered a method of summoning a demon - Mephistopheles - from Hell and making a pact with him. He signed a contract in blood to turn his soul over to Mephistopheles in return for the feeling of youth, and at once became young. When the time came for Faustus to die, he retired to his room and was blown to bits as though his laboratory had exploded. This story is a protest of the times (the Sixteenth Century) against science, chemistry, and magic.
To the Satanist, it is unnecessary to sell your soul to the Devil or make a pact with Satan. This threat was devised by Christianity to terrorize people so they would not stray from the fold. With scolding fingers and trembling voices, they taught their followers that if they gave in to the temptations of Satan, and lived their lives according to their natural predilictions, they would have to pay for their sinful pleasures by giving their souls to Satan and suffering in Hell for all eternity. People were led to believe that a pure soul was a passport to everlasting life.
Pious prophets have taught man to fear Satan. But what of terms like "God fearing"? If God is so merciful, why do people have to fear him? Are we to believe there is nowhere we can turn to escape fear? If you have to fear God, why not be "Satan fearing" and at least have the fun that being God fearing denies you? Without such a wholesale fear religionists would have had nothing with which to wield power over their followers.
The Teutonic Goddess of the Dead and daughter of Loki was named Hel, a Pagan god of torture and punishment. Another "L" was added when the books of the Old Testament were formulated. The prophets who wrote the Bible did not know the word "Hell"; they used the Hebrew Sheol and the Greek Hades, which meant the grave; also the Greek Tartaros, which was the abode of fallen angels, the underworld (inside the earth), and Gehenna, which was a valley near Jerusalem where Moloch reigned and garbage was dumped and burned. It is from this that the Christian Church has evolved the idea of "fire and brimstone" in Hell.
The Protestant Hell and the Catholic Hell are places of eternal punishment; however, the Catholics also believe there is a "Purgatory" where all souls go for a time, and a "Limbo" where unbaptized souls go. The Buddhist Hell is divided into eight sections, the first seven of which can be expiated. The ecclesiastical description of Hell is that of a horrible place of fire and torment; in Dante's Inferno, and in northern climes, it was thought to be an icy cold region, a giant refrigerator.
(Even with all their threats of eternal damnation and soul roasting, Christian missionaries have run across some who were not so quick to swallow their drivel. Pleasure and pain, like beauty, are in the eye of the beholder. So, when missionaries ventured into Alaska and warned the Eskimos of the horrors of Hell and the blazing lake of fire awaiting transgressors, they eagerly asked: "How do we get there?"!)
Most Satanists do not accept Satan as an anthropomorphic being with cloven hooves, a barbed tail, and horns. He merely represents a force in nature - the powers of darkness which have been named just that because no religion has taken these forces out of the darkness. Nor has science been able to apply technical terminology to this force. It is an untapped reservoir that few can make use of because they lack the ability use a tool without having to first break down and label all the parts which make it run. It is this incessant need to analyze which prohibits most people from taking advantage of this many faceted key to the unknown - which the Satanist chooses to call "Satan".
1. In this arid wilderness of steel and stone I raise up my voice that you may hear. To the East and to the West I beckon. To the North and to the South I show a sign proclaiming: Death to the weakling, wealth to the strong! 2. Open your eyes that you may see, Oh men of mildewed minds, and listen to me ye bewildered millions! 3. For I stand forth to challenge the wisdom of the world; to interrogate the "laws" of man and of "God"! 4. I request reason for your golden rule and ask the why and wherefore of your ten commandments. 5. Before none of your printed idols do I bend in acquiescence, and he who saith "thou shalt" to me is my mortal foe! 6. I dip my forefinger in the watery blood of your impotent mad redeemer, and write over his thorn-torn brow: The TRUE prince of evil - the king of slaves! 7. No hoary falsehood shall be a truth to me; no stifling dogma shall encramp my pen! 8. I break away from all conventions that do not lead to my earthly success and happiness. 9. I raise up in stern invasion the standard of the strong! 10. I gaze into the glassy eye of your fearsome Jehovah, and pluck him by the beard; I uplift a broad-axe, and split open his worm-eaten skull! 11. I blast out the ghastly contents of philosophically whited sepulchers and laugh with sardonic wrath!
THE BOOK OF SATAN
II Behold the crucifix; what does it symbolize? Pallid incompetence hanging on a tree. I question all things. As I stand before the festering and varnished facades of your haughtiest moral dogmas, I write thereon in letters of blazing scorn: Lo and behold; all this is fraud! Gather around me, Oh! ye death-defiant, and the earth itself shall be thine, to have and to hold! Too long the dead hand has been permitted to sterilize living thought! Too long right and wrong, good and evil have been inverted by false prophets! No creed must be accepted upon authority of a "divine" nature. Religions must be put to the question. No moral dogma must be taken for granted - no standard of measurement deified. There is nothing inherently sacred about moral codes. Like the wooden idols of long ago, they are the work of human hands, and what man has made, man can destroy! He that is slow to believe anything and everything is of great understanding, for belief in one false principle is the beginning of all unwisdom. The chief duty of every new age is to upraise new men to determine its liberties, to lead it towards material success - to rend the rusty padlocks and chains of dead custom that always prevent healthy expansion. Theories and ideas that may have meant life and hope and freedom for our ancestors may now mean destruction, slavery, and dishonor to us! As environments change, no human ideal standeth sure! Whenever, therefore, a lie has built unto itself a throne, let it be assailed without pity and without regret, for under the domination of an inconvenient falsehood, no one can prosper. Let established sophisms be dethroned, rooted out, burnt and destroyed, for they are a standing menace to all true nobility of thought and action! Whatever alleged "truth" is proven by results to be but an empty fiction, let it be unceremoniously flung into the outer darkness, among the dead gods, dead empires, dead philosophies, and other useless lumber and wreckage! The most dangerous of all enthroned lies is the holy, the sanctified, the privileged lie - the lie everyone believes to be a model truth. It is the fruitful mother of all other popular errors and delusions. It is a hydra-headed tree of unreason with a thousand roots. It is a social cancer! The lie that is known to be a lie is half eradicated, but the lie that even intelligent persons accept as fact - the lie that has been inculcated in a little child at its mother's knee - is more dangerous to contend against than a creeping pestilence! Popular lies have ever been the most potent enemies of personal liberty. There is only one way to deal with them: Cut them out, to the very core, just as cancers. Exterminate them root and branch. Annihilate them, or they will us!
THE BOOK OF SATAN
III "Love one another" it has been said is the supreme law, but what power made it so? Upon what rational authority does the gospel of love rest? Why should I not hate mine enemies - if I "love" them does that not place me at their mercy? Is it natural for enemies to do good unto each other - and WHAT IS GOOD? Can the torn and bloody victim "love" the blood-splashed jaws that rend him limb from limb? Are we not all predatory animals by instinct? If humans ceased wholly from preying upon each other, could they continue to exist? Is not "lust and carnal desire" a more truthful term to describe "love" when applied to the continuance of the race? Is not the "love" of the fawning scriptures simply a euphemism for sexual activity, or was the "great teacher" a glorifier of eunuchs? Love your enemies and do good to them that hate and use you - is this not the despicable philosophy of the spaniel that rolls upon its back when kicked? Hate your enemies with a whole heart, and if a man smite you on one cheek, SMASH him on the other!; smite him hip and thigh, for self-preservation is the highest law! He who turns the other cheek is a cowardly dog! Give blow for blow, scorn for scorn, doom for doom - with compound interest liberally added thereunto! Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, aye four-fold, a hundred-fold! Make yourself a Terror to your adversary, and when he goeth his way, he will possess much additional wisdom to ruminate over. Thus shall you make yourself respected in all the walks of life, and your spirit - your immortal spirit - shall live, not in an intangible paradise, but in the brains and sinews of those whose respect you have gained.
THE BOOK OF SATAN
IV Life is the great indulgence - death, the great abstinence. Therefore, make the most of life - HERE AND NOW! There is no heaven of glory bright, and no hell where sinners roast. Here and now is our day of torment! Here and now is our day of joy! Here and now is our opportunity! Choose ye this day, this hour, for no redeemer liveth! Say unto thine own heart, "I am mine own redeemer." Stop the way of them that would persecute you. Let those who devise thine undoing be hurled back to confusion and infamy. Let them be as chaff before the cyclone and after they have fallen rejoice in thine own salvation. Then all thy bones shall say pridefully, "Who is like unto me? Have I not been too strong for mine adversaries? Have I not delivered MYSELF by mine own brain and body?"
THE BOOK OF SATAN
V Blessed are the strong, for they shall possess the earth - Cursed are the weak, for they shall inherit the yoke! Blessed are the powerful, for they shall be reverenced among men - Cursed are the feeble, for they shall be blotted out! Blessed are the bold, for they shall be masters of the world - Cursed are the righteously humble, for they shall be trodden under cloven hoofs! Blessed are the victorious, for victory is the basis of right - Cursed are the vanquished, for they shall be vassals forever! Blessed are the iron-handed, for the unfit shall flee before them - Cursed are the poor in spirit, for they shall be spat upon! Blessed are the death-defiant, for their days shall be long in the land - Cursed are the gazers toward a richer life beyond the grave, for they shall perish amidst plenty! Blessed are the destroyers of false hope, for they are the true Messiahs - Cursed are the god-adorers, for they shall be shorn sheep! Blessed are the valiant, for they shall obtain great treasure - Cursed are the believers in good and evil, for they are frightened by shadows! Blessed are those that believe in what is best for them, for never shall their minds be terrorized - Cursed are the "lambs of God", for they shall be bled whiter than snow! Blessed is the man who has a sprinkling of enemies, for they shall make him a hero - Cursed is he who doeth good unto others who sneer upon him in return, for he shall be despised! Blessed are the mighty-minded, for they shall ride the whirlwinds - Cursed are they who teach lies for truth and truth for lies, for they are an abomination! Thrice cursed are the weak whose insecurity makes them vile, for they shall serve and suffer! The angel of self-deceit is camped in the souls of the "righteous" - The eternal flame of power through joy dwelleth within the flesh of the Satanist!
(AIR)
THE BOOK OF LUCIFER
THE ENLIGHTENMENT The Roman god, Lucifer, was the bearer of light, the spirit of the air, the personification of enlightenment. In Christian mythology he became synonymous with evil, which was only to have been expected from a religion whose very existence is perpetuated by clouded definitions and bogus values! It is time to set the record straight. False moralisms and occult inaccuracies must be corrected. Entertaining as they might be, most stories and plays about Devil worship must be recognized as the obsolete absurdities they are. It has been said "the truth will make men free". The truth alone has never set anyone free. It is only DOUBT which will bring mental emancipation. Without the wonderful element of doubt, the doorway through which truth passes would be tightly shut, impervious to the most strenuous poundings of a thousand Lucifers. How understandable that Holy Scripture should refer to the Infernal monarch as the "father of lies" - a magnificent example of character inversion. If one is to believe this theological accusation that the Devil represents falsehood, then it surely must be concurred that it was HE, NOT GOD, THAT ESTABLISHED ALL SPIRITUAL RELIGIONS AND WHO WROTE ALL OF THE HOLY BIBLES! When one doubt is followed by another, the bubble, grown large from long accumulated fallacies, threatens to burst. For those who already doubt supposed truths, this book is revelation. Then Lucifer will have risen. Now is the time for doubt! The bubble of falsehood is bursting and its sound is the roar of the world!
- W A N T E D ! - GOD DEAD OR ALIVE IT is a popular misconception that the Satanist does not believe in God. The concept of "God", as interpreted by man, has been so varied throughout the ages, that the Satanist simply accepts the definition which suits him best. Man has always created his gods, rather than his gods creating him. God is, to some, benign - to others, terrifying. To the Satanist "God" - by whatever name he is called, or by no name at all - is seen as the balancing factor in nature, and not as being concerned with suffering. This powerful force which permeates and balances the universe is far too impersonal to care about the happiness or misery of flesh-and-blood creatures on this ball of dirt upon which we live.
Anyone who thinks of Satan as evil should consider all the men, women, children, and animals who have died because it was "God's will". Certainly a person grieving the untimely loss of a loved one whould much rather have their loved one with them than in God's hands! Instead, they are unctuously consoled by their clergyman who says, "It was God's will, my dear"; or "He is in God's hands now, my son." Such phrases have been a convenient way for religionists to condone or excuse the mercilessness of God. But if God is in complete control and as benign as he is supposed to be, why does He allow these things to happen? Too long have religionists been falling back on their bibles and rulebooks to prove or disprove, justify, condemn, or interpret.
The Satanist realizes that man, and the action and reaction of the universe, is responsible for everything, and doesn't mislead himself into thinking that someone cares. No longer will we sit back and accept "fate" without doing anything about it, just because it says so in Chapter such and such, Psalm so and so - and that's that! The Satanist knows that praying does absolutely no good - in fact, it actually lessens the chance of success, for the devoutly religious too often sit back complacently and pray for a situation which, if they were to do something about it on their own, could be accomplished much quicker!
The Satanist shuns terms such as "hope" and "prayer" as they are indicative of apprehension. If we hope and pray for something to come about, we will not act in a positive way which will make it happen. The Satanist, realizing that anything he gets is of his own doing, takes command of the situation instead of praying to God for it to happen. Positive thinking and positive action add up to results.
Just as the Satanist does not pray to God for assistance, he does not pray for forgiveness for his wrong doings. In other religions, when one commits a wrong he either prays to God for forgiveness, or confesses to an intermediary and asks him to pray to God for forgiveness for his sins. The Satanist knows that praying does no good, confessing to another human being, like himself, accomplishes even less - and is, furthermore, degrading.
When a Satanist commits a wrong, he realizes that it is natural to make a mistake - and if he is truly sorry about what he has done, he will learn from it and take care not to do the same thing again. If he is not honestly sorry about what he has done, and knows he will do the same thing over and over, he has no business confessing and asking forgiveness in the first place. But this is exactly what happens. People confess their sins so that they can clear their consciences - and be free to go out and sin again, usually the same sin.
There are many diferent interpretations of God, in the usual sense of the word, as there are types of people. The images run from a belief in a god who is some vague sort of "universal cosmic mind" to an anthropomorphic deity with a long white beard and sandals who keeps track of every action of each individual.
Even within the confines of a given religion, the personal interpretations of God differ greatly. Some religions actually go so far as to label anyone who belongs to a religious sect other than their own a heretic, even though the overall doctrines and impressions of godliness are nearly the same. For example: The Catholics believe that the Protestants are doomed to Hell simply because they do not belong to the Catholic Church. In the same way, many splinter groups of the Christian faith, such as the evangelical or revivalist churches, believe that the Catholics are heathens who worship graven images. (Christ is depicted in the image that is most psychologically akin to the individual worshipping him, and yet the Chrisitans criticize "heathens" for the worship of graven images.) And the Jews have always been given the Devil's name.
Even though the god in all of these religions is basically the same, each regards the way chosen by the others as reprehensible, and to top it all, religionists actually PRAY for one another! They have scorn for the brothers of the right-hand path because their religions carry different labels, and somehow this animosity must be released. What better way than through "prayer"! What a simperingly polite way of saying: "I hate your guts," is the thinly disguised device known as praying for your enemy! Praying for one's own enemy is nothing more than bargain-basement anger, and of a decidedly shoddy and inferior quality!
If there has been so much violent discrepancy as to the proper way in which to worship God, how many different interpretations of God can there be - and who is right?
All devout "white-lighters" are concerned with pleasing God so that they might have the "Pearly Gates" opened for them when they die. Nevertheless, if a man has not lived his life in accordance with the regulations of his faith, he can at the last minute call a clergyman to his deathbed for a final absolution. The priest or minister will then come running on the double, to "make everything right" with God and see to it that his passport to the Heavenly Realm is in order. (The Yezidis, a sect of Devil worshippers, take a different viewpoint. They believe that God is all-powerful, but also all-forgiving, and so accordingly feel that it is the Devil whom they must please, as he is the one who rules their lives while here on earth. They believe so strongly that God will forgive all of their sins once they have been given the last rites, that they feel no need to concern themselves with the opinion God may hold of them while they live.)
With all of the contradictions in the Christian scriptures, many people currently cannot rationally accept Christianity the way it has been practiced in the past. Great numbers of people are beginning to doubt the existence of God, in the established Christian sense of the word. So, they have taken to calling themselves "Christian Atheists". True, the Christian Bible is a mass of contradictions; but what could be more contradictory than the term "Christian Atheist"?
If prominent leaders of the Christian faith are rejecting the past interpretations of God, how then can their followers be expected to adhere to previous religious tradition?
With all the debates about whether or not God is dead, if he isn't he had better have MEDICARE! THE GOD YOU SAVE MAY BE YOURSELF ALL religions of a spiritual nature are inventions of man. He has created an entire system of gods with nothing more than his carnal brain. Just because he has an ego, and cannot accept it, he has to externalize it into some great spiritual device which he calls "God".
God can do all the things man is forbidden to do - such as kill people, perform miracles to gratify his will, control without any apparent responsibility, etc. If man needs such a god and recognizes that god, then he is worshipping an entity that a human being invented. Therefore, HE IS WORSHIPPING BY PROXY THE MAN THAT INVENTED GOD. Is it not more sensible to worship a god that he, himself, has created, in accordance with his own emotional needs - one that best represents the very carnal and physical being that has the idea-power to invent a god in the first place?
If man insists on externalizing his true self in the form of "God", then why fear his true self, in fearing "God", - why praise his true self in praising "God", - why remain externalized from "God" IN ORDER TO ENGAGE IN RITUAL AND RELIGIOUS CEREMONY IN HIS NAME?
Man needs ritual and dogma, but no law states that an externalized god is necessary in order to engage in ritual and ceremony performed in a god's name! Could it be that when he closes the gap between himself and his "God" he sees the demon of pride creeping forth - that very embodiment of Lucifer appearing in his midst? He no longer can view himself in two parts, the carnal and the spiritual, but sees them merge as one, and then to his abysmal horror, discovers that they are only the carnal - AND ALWAYS WERE! Then he either hates himself to death, day by day - or rejoices that he is what he is!
If he hates himself, he searches out new and more complex spiritual paths of "enlightenment" in hopes that he may split himself up again in his quest for stronger and more externalized "gods" to scourge his poor miserable shell. If he accepts himself, but recognizes that ritual and ceremony are the important devices that his invented religions have utilized to sustain his faith in a lie, then it is the SAME FORM OF RITUAL that will sustain his faith in the truth - the primitive pageantry that will give his awareness of his own majestic being added substance.
When all religious faith in lies has waned, it is because man has become closer to himself and farther from "God"; closer to the "Devil." If this is what the devil represents, and a man lives his life in the devil's fane, with the sinews of Satan moving in his flesh, then he either escapes from the cacklings and carpings of the righteous, or stands proudly in his secret places of the earth and manipulates the folly-ridden masses through his own Satanic might, until that day when he may come forth in splendor proclaiming "I AM A SATANIST! BOW DOWN, FOR I AM THE HIGHEST EMBODIMENT OF HUMAN LIFE!" SOME EVIDENCE OF A NEW SATANIC AGE THE seven deadly sins of the Christian Church are: greed, pride, envy, anger, gluttony, lust, and sloth. Satanism advocates indulging in each of these "sins" as they all lead to physical, mental, or emotional gratification.
A Satanist knows there is nothing wrong with being greedy, as it only means that he wants more than he already has. Envy means to look with favor upon the possessions of others, and to be desirous of obtaining similar things for oneself. Envy and greed are the motivating forces of ambition - and without ambition, very little of any importance would be accomplished.
Gluttony is simply eating more than you need to keep yourself alive. When you have overeaten to the point of obesity, another sin - pride - will motivate you to regain an appearance that will renew your self-respect.
Anyone who buys an article of clothing for a purpose other than covering his body and protecting it from the elements is guilty of pride. Satanists often encounter scoffers who maintain that labels are not necessary. It must be pointed out to these destroyers of labels that one or many articles they themselves are wearing are not wearing are not necessary to keep them warm. There is not a person on this earth who is completely devoid of ornamentation. The Satanist points out that any ornamentation of the scoffer's body shows that he, too, is guilty of pride. Regardless of how verbose the cynic may be in his intellectual description of how free he is, he is still wearing the elements of pride.
Being reluctant to get up in the morning is to be guilty of sloth, and if you lie in bed long enough you may find yourself commiting yet another sin - lust. To have the faintest stirring of sexual desire is to be guilty of lust. In order to insure the propagation of humanity, nature made lust the second most powerful instinct, the first being self-preservation. Realizing this, the Christian Church made fornication the "Original Sin". In this way they made sure no one would escape sin. Your very state of being is as a result of sin - the Original sin!
The strongest instinct in every living thing is self-preservation, which brings us to the last of the seven deadly sins - anger. Is it not our instinct for self-preservation that is aroused when someone harms us, when we become angry enough to protect ourselves from further attack? A Satanist practices the motto, "If a man smite thee on one cheek, smash him on the other!" Let no wrong go unredressed. Be as a lion in the path - be dangerous even in defeat!
Since man's natural instincts lead him to sin, all men are sinners; and all sinners go to hell. If everyone goes to hell, then you will meet all your friends there. Heaven must be populated with some rather strange creatures if all they lived for was to go to a place where they can strum harps for eternity.
"Times have changed. Religious leaders no longer preach that all our natural actions are sinful. We no longer think sex is dirty - or that taking pride in ourselves is shameful - or that wanting something someone else has is vicious." Of course not, times have changed! "If you want proof of this, just look at how liberal churches have become. Why, they're practicing all the things that you preach."
Satanists hear these, and similar statements, all the time; and they agree wholeheartedly. BUT, if the world has changed so much, why continue to grasp at the threads of a dying faith? If many religions are denying their own scriptures because they are out of date, and are preaching the philosophies of Satanism, why not call it by its rightful name - Satanism? Certainly it would be far less hypocritical.
In recent years there has been an attempt to humanize the spiritual concept of Christianity. This has manifested itself in the most obvious non-spiritual means. Masses which had been said in Latin are now said in native languages - which only succeeds in making the nonsense easier to understand, and at the same time robs the ceremony of the esoteric nature which is consistent with the tenets of the dogma. It is much simpler to obtain an emotional reaction using words and phrases that cannot be understood than it is with statements which even the simplest mind will question when hearing them in an understandable language.
If priests and ministers were to have used the devices to fill their churches one hundred years ago that they use today, they would have been charged with heresy, called devils, oft-times persecuted, but certainly excommunicated without hesitation.
The religionists wail, "We must keep up with the times," forgetting that, due to limiting factors and deeply engrained laws of white light religions, there can never be sufficient change to meet the needs of man.
Past religions have always represented the spiritual nature of man, with little or no concern for his carnal or mundane needs. They have considered this life but transitory, and the flesh merely a shell; physical pleasure trivial, and pain a worthwhile preparation for the "Kingdom of God". How well the utter hypocrisy comes forth when the "righteous" make a change in their religion to keep up with man's natural change! The only way that Christianity can ever completely serve the needs of man is to become as Satanism is NOW.
It has become necessary for a NEW religion, based on man's natural instincts, to come forth. THEY have named it. It is called Satanism. It is that power condemned that has caused the religious controversy over birth-control measures - a disgruntled admission that sexual activity, for fun, is here to stay.
It is the "Devil" who caused women to show their legs, to titillate men - the same kind of legs, now socially acceptable to gaze upon, which are revealed by young nuns as they walk about in their shortened habits. What a delightful step in the right (or left) direction! Is it possible we will soon see "topless" nuns sensually throwing their bodies about to the "Missa Solemnis Rock"? Satan smiles and says he would like that fine - many nuns are very pretty girls with nice legs.
I was sucking his cock. Wet and slick, it went down to my throat and crept out back like a thick snake. Then somebody knocked at the door behind me and it opened without a pause. I heard giggles and voices, half-embarrassed, half-amused.
"Sorry! It looks like we are at the wrong time!"
"Come in, come in!" I felt he waived his hand above me, while his other hand pressed my head to his crotch tightly. "Wait a minute, I'll finish feeding my bitch."
They took their places in the armchairs, laughing. On the minor changes in the rhythm I understood that he was close to cumming. I took the root of his cock just above his hefty balls in the ring of my fingers and massaged lightly. He burst into my mouth in three portions of thick slippery juice and I swallowed it hastily - he didn't like when I let it leak out.
He was my boss. Three months ago, in June, I graduated from our local college and faced the problem I knew I would meet. What I didn't know was that I would take it so sharp. I was a good student and my specialty seemed to be in demand. I worked when studying. But the owner of the company got in trouble with some tough guys from Siberia and blew up in his expensive "Mercedes" recently. So, I didn't have job, I didn't have references and I didn't have acquaintances to speak for me.
I was optimistic in the beginning - but by the end of the second month I was on the verge of nervous breakdown. I didn't get even a shadow of an employment so far - and I didn't have hope I would have it in future. I was running out of money swiftly and desperately. But the worst, probably, was the feeling that I was a failure.
I have to say, I was almost hopeless when my conversation with my future boss began. He was a solid burly man in his forties, rather stern and detached. He asked usual questions and his face didn't brighten for a moment. Then he asked if I was gay.
I got frozen. The thing was that some years ago I decided for myself that I wouldn't advertise my sexual preferences but if asked directly, I would tell the truth. Anyway, I think I have something in me that makes suppose I am not straight (I wonder if it was a part of my troubles with looking for job).
"Yes," I said.
"I do not mind," he said.
We spoke a little more and then he said:
"You know, for this money I'm going to pay I can take a specialist with years of experience."
I nodded. That was exactly what I heard dozens of times.
"The question is if you can offer me something more than simply good work."
You see, I didn't even understand him at first. Our talking was pretty sexless and even his reaction to my answer was absolutely cool. I looked at him in surprise. And then I for the first time saw this little smile on his lips and he said in a low voice:
"You know, like that," his hand was stroking his bulge through the material of his pants.
Look, I knew it was a usual way for girls to get the job. Almost obligatory if she was young and pretty. But I was a man!
Well, maybe, if he had urged me right then, I would have rejected and gone. But he said:
"Think about it. If you agree, the job is yours. You can come tomorrow at nine."
Back at home I thought it all over. I could start working! Even to imagine it was bliss: to have a job, to be secured, my parents don't ask me any more if I've found something... What's wrong, I thought. If girls can take it, so can I. I am not better than them.
Things started working out when I got the place. I borrowed money to drag myself to the first salary - now I knew I would be able to return it. I tried not to focus on my extra duties and most of time I managed it.
However, I still never got into the situation like that: I was on my knees in front of my boss' armchair and behind me there were two man sitting and observing me with derisive smiles.
I was so embarrassed that I didn't know how I would be able to stand up and turn my face to them. I lingered with the limp cock of my boss licking and cleansing it until he said:
"C'mon, get up," and pulled me up.
My face must have been bright-red when I looked at them. I even couldn't see clearly - but I knew who those two were. Arthur K., my boss' best friend and vice-president of a local bank, and another "new Russian" businessman, Georgy, didn't know his surname, a big muscled guy with thick dark mustaches.
"Do you know my computer manager?" my boss said holding me by my upper arm.
Arthur, a fat cheerful man, looked at me with a kind of benign smile - and Georgy said:
"The faggot? I wondered how he looked like."
The meaning of the words made me sick. So, he talked about me! I have to say, I hoped somehow that he would get bored with our sex and I would have to do only my direct work. But it looked like he took it much more serious.
I tried to free my arm from my boss' grip.
"I have to go," I mumbled. "I have work to do..."
"You didn't finish your work here," my boss said and pushed me back to his table. Three of us watched him walking to the door, looking out and saying to his secretary:
"Tanya, don't put me through to anyone."
Then he locked the door and put the keys to his pocket.
Seeing all these preparations made me feel creepy inside. That is, he hardly locked the door to have a confidential talking with us. But the thing was I couldn't believe it in my heart. I made sex with him - but three people are not one, right?
"Take your clothes off," my boss said.
I didn't move. The situation was tense - and still it was not what I expected. The two watched me in amusement.
"Take off your fucking clothes, you faggot slut!" my boss yelled. He reached his hand and pulled my shirt out of the pants.
I know, what I did next was shitty. I am shitty... But at that moment I didn't yell back at him: "Get your hands off of me!" I was in a kind of stupor - I couldn't move, couldn't say a word. My legs felt so weak that I was ready to crumble on the floor in a heap. I started trembling - vibrating, actually - as if I was going to piss and shit myself.
"Look what you have done," Arthur said to my boss. "You really scared the kid. Let him go."
"He will go when I say," my boss was exasperated. "He is paid for it! Either you take your clothes off..." it was to me, of course.
I managed to stop shaking. Well, I didn't have much choice - and so, I resigned. Well, what I had to do? To scream blue murder? They didn't even touch me. To tell them I don't play and fuck the job? Somehow it seemed stupid to me to start speaking about it - it was a kind of discrepancy, wasn't it? And I was not ready to fuck the job, you see...
So, I stripped. The two gazed at me with interest. My boss was not so interested - he saw it many times before. When I was done, he pushed me naked between the armchairs of his friends.
I made my mind to take it. Why to play virgin of myself? I was through it before. They hardly would damage me - so, I wouldn't be any the worse for it. Arthur took me by my waist in his big soft hands and turned me face to himself.
"Let's see what we have here," he murmured. He had a very pleasant voice, drawling but not husky, intimate even on the phone. He pawed my front. "Two little pretty tits. A scar of appendicitis. A lovely cock, soft. So far. And two smart balls," he cupped them in his palm. "Come closer," he pulled me to himself and shifted himself from the seat of the armchair to its broad elbow-rest. "What can we do with it?"
I was scared, I was cold, I was disgusted with myself. I didn't want him to do anything. But he embraced me with one his arm and put his hot mouth on my nipple.
He licked and sucked my nipples in turn while his other hand was massaging my balls tenderly. You know... he was so big and fat and, how to say, unthreatening. And I felt almost protected in his embrace. And his mouth was wet and warm. So, I got hard-on - as he wanted it.
"Lovely. Very lovely," he said affectionately. Suddenly he moved and lowered himself on his knees. This huge awkward man kneeled in front of me - and he took my erect cock into his mouth.
This way as I stood I was back to Georgy - and soon enough I felt his finger poking into my ass hole.
"He is not tight," Georgy said.
"He likes to be fucked," my boss answered. "He told me. He likes his ass filled with a big cock, the bigger the better."
I bit my lip. You know, this kind of conversation - you can't start arguing with it.
"Have you ever had sex with two?" my boss asked me.
"Yes," I said. He laughed.
"They fucked you in turns, I bet. Made a good ride. Fucked the shit out of you."
"No," I said flatly. "It was at school. I sucked one boy and the other sucked me."
Now Arthur was sucking my dick - and Georgy was getting his fingers into my ass. Two fingers were all right and even three I could take but when I felt he was trying to add the forth I looked around to him.
"Please, don't do it," I asked in a tight voice. "It hurts."
"No, it doesn't," he said casually and at once I felt all his four fingers penetrating me and his hand with the place where they were jointed. I flinched - and flinched again when he pulled it back.
"What are you doing?" Arthur looked around me, too.
"Check how much a whore he is," Georgy answered.
"Please, don't do it," I said again mechanically. By then I already got an idea what he was planning to do - and it scared me greatly.
"Look, you have spoiled everything," Arthur said to Georgy with reproach. The thing was I was not aroused anymore.
"Big deal!" Georgy shrugged.
"Please don't do it," I repeated. I seemed to be half-dumb - I couldn't think of any other words to convince them.
"Shut your mouth," Georgy snarled. "Help me!"
He said it to Arthur but it was my boss who threw me belly-down on the back of the armchair and pressed me tightly. Georgy kicked my legs wide.
"Please don't fist me!" at least I found the words. "I didn't do it before!"
"Look," Arthur sounded concerned. "He says he didn't take it before. Maybe, you won't do it?"
"He is lying," my boss said.
Georgy's merciless hand was working my hole. It already seemed to me more stretched than I ever had. And then he added his thumb and pushed all of it inside.
I felt as if he was tearing me, as if he was sliding apart the bones of my pelvis. The place where the thumb joints was the thickest - and then my hole clenched around his hairy wrist.
He was inside me! I never felt nothing like that. It was unnatural - not so much painful as frightening. He moved his fingers inside me. I almost threw up.
"Hey," Georgy said, "roll up my sleeve."
"You aren't going to push it farther, are you?" Arthur said.
"I don't know," Georgy answered. "It depends how much he can take."
He rocked his hand in my ass. It was so sickening that I swallowed and swallowed trying not to puke. Something was leaking on my legs, not blood, ass juices, I think.
"How does it feel like?" my boss asked with interest.
"Strange," Georgy replied. "Do you want to try?"
The question made me feel panicky almost to the point of fainting. All my insides contracted and my rectum, too.
"Oh, tight," Georgy said amused.
I had to stop myself from tensing, I reminded, or I'll harm myself.
I managed to do it partly by the time Georgy yanked his hand out of me. There were more liquids running on my legs and apparently Georgy's hand was filthy because my boss said:
"Take a paper towel."
Now it was my boss' hand trying into my hole. I think there were some minor splits around my sphincter because it hurt when he was going through it. But, actually, he did it much quicker than Georgy. He ran his fingers inside me for a while, touching me there, and went out, too.
"It's hot," he said. "Do you want, Misha?"
I was sobbing by then; every my breath was a sob.
"No!" he answered abruptly.
"Give him to suck, then," my boss suggested. "He will tighten meanwhile."
He agreed and my boss pushed me on my knees. When Arthur unzipped and pulled out his dick, I comforted a little. It was what I knew - sucking - and Arthur's looked really small, especially in comparison with his big belly.
I sucked it for a minute or two - I didn't deep-throat, actually, I couldn't even take it to my mouth entirely - his belly was on my way. But Arthur didn't mind and soon I felt several soft pushes of his abdomen - and he filled my mouth with his cum.
I was afraid of what would happen now, when I finished with him. It was so soothing to sit at his knees. But my boss got me up.
"You are lucky today," he said. "There is one more ready for you."
I saw Georgy had already taken out his veined massive dick.
"Bend down," he said to me.
After the examination they gave to my hole his cock slid there easily. It was pretty unpleasant when rubbing - but Georgy didn't last long. In about thirty thrusts he got a breath-taking speed and then cummed.
"Good ass," he said wearily, taking it out of me, and slapped me lightly.
"You can get dressed," my boss said in an official tone.
As much as I could I brought myself in order in the lavatory. When I returned to my working place, I didn't know what to do. It hurt to sit but nothing worse they didn't do. What I thought about was what a piece of shit I was. If I allowed this to happen to me, then there is nothing I won't allow to be done.
And what now? I could leave the work, of course, but, look, after all this was over - don't you think it would be ridiculous. I mean, if I had left before it... I thought then, maybe, I could speak to my boss, ask him not to do it any more, no more his friends... Well, I know it sounds idiotic.
Fortunately, I really had a lot of work then. It somehow distracted me from these devastating thoughts.
"Take it easy," Tanya said to me when we had a break. "Whatever happened. He is an asshole. He fired me a year ago - because he decided that a little cunt in mini would match his reception room better. I thought I would go mad, my husband was unemployed then. And in a week he took me back because the silly girl messed his appointments."
But you know what happened next day? Arthur called me and asked if I would like to work for him for twice bigger salary than there. Of course, I agreed. My boss - well, maybe, he minded - but Arthur was his friend and I was not a big deal to break friendship. He even paid me for a month I worked there.
I still work at Arthur's bank. We have sex from time to time - but it is always sex, never sex-serving. And I do not mind. I like him.
The man positioned himself in a chair behind the door where he knew he would be well hidden. The lights had been off upon his arrival, and due to the late hour, he figured the pilot would not likely turn them on upon entering. *Not that it would matter if he does, * the stranger thought to himself, *he doesn't seem to be much of fighter when faced head on,* he laughed.
A beam of light shot across the room for a brief moment, as the door opened and then quickly shut again. Murdock crossed the room, removing his jacket and shirt along the way, and sat down heavily on the bed.
Wasting no time, the figure moved stealthily across the floor and came up behind him unnoticed. Looping his left arm through the pilots, he anchored his hand on the back of his neck, while his right hand instantaneously clamped firmly over his mouth preventing him from calling out. In one swift motion, Murdock was pinned beneath the man, face down on the bed. A knee came down on his upper back forcing his face into the pillow. Not giving him a chance to struggle, one arm was yanked above his head and fastened to the head board by a belted restraint. Keeping his face in the pillow, the stranger followed suit with the pilot's other arm. Then he lay down on top of him.
Murdock thrashed about wildly, but the calloused hand returned to his mouth and the man jerked his head back forcefully to let him know how serious he was. He tried screaming to no avail, as he felt a hand dive between himself and the bed. No words were spoken, as his pants were forcefully yanked down. Murdock froze in shock as he realized what was about to happen. The man paused, lifted his hand to Murdock's face, and gently stroked his cheek. The kindly gesture only served to confuse the pilot.
Murdock could hear the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and the unmistakable feeling of an erection, being stroked across the crack of his ass. His breathing quickened as the fear began to grip him once again. Too many of the larger, and more violent patients in the hospital had made this particular threat to him, to take this lightly. A ball of cloth was suddenly stuffed into his mouth, replacing the hand. Murdock was now being pulled up by the hips, and a pillow was shoved under his stomach for leverage.
Once again the hand delve beneath him, this time to take hold of his shaft. He fondled it for a minute, running his hand along it's length and squeezing the moist tip between his thumb and forefinger, then sliding back down again, repeating the process over and over. The hand pulled away, only to come back from behind, between his thighs. The man slowly rolled Murdock's balls around in his palm, caressing them, and gathering them together to the base of his shaft until it slowly began to stiffen. Murdock then felt the man's tongue caress his anus, coating it with saliva, before sticking his tongue deep inside. Murdock whimpered and almost began to sob for himself, because he found himself wishing the stranger would Fuck him.
As the need grew, he thrust toward the slick powerful muscle tasting him. The tongue withdrew. There was no penetration but Murdock could feel the man begin to thrust against his crack hard. He could hear his assailant's breaths began to come in quick, soft grunts, as he was preparing to take him.
Murdock's body stiffened. The fear was slowly being replaced with need and it frightened him. His entire being screamed out for satisfaction. Then it came, the gentle pressure of the man's cock head poised at his entrance, and a hand firmly spread across his tailbone, to anchor him. Murdock could feel himself opening up for the man ready to swallow him whole. Murdock grunted and sobbed through the cloth, while the tears streamed down his cheeks, ashamed of himself for not having any control over his body. The man grabbed for Murdock's cock once again and jerked it hard, while thrusting deep into his tight ass. Murdock's grunts came from deep inside him, as the man nailed him over and over again with sharp and precise movements.
After a few minutes, an arm wrapped under Murdock's chin and gently raised his head. Murdock was now staring straight ahead with his eye tightly shut, afraid of what was to happen next. The arm moved up a little higher and hovered under his nose. While taking heavy breaths, he managed to catch the scent of a very familiar cologne. His head dropped down to the pillow as he relaxed a bit and allowed the thrusting and pumping to carry him into euphoria.
As the man exploded filling Murdock's ass with his hot juice, Murdock's body began to jerk and his cream spilled out across his bed and pillow. He lay there trying hard to catch his breath through his nose. The man leaned across his back, and while feathering tiny soothing kisses across the back of his sweat soaked neck, he pulled the damp cloth from Murdock's mouth, taking the time to wipe the spittle that trickled out of the corner his mouth, and simultaneously trailed his finger across the pilot's lips.
His voice was sweet and husky as he finally spoke. "How was that Captain?" He asked, gently wiping the tears off of Murdock's cheek and kissing it.
Murdock laughed lightly, while he trembled in his arms. "Colonel, that's the last time, I let you act out one of your fantasies...."
"Really. " Hannibal stated plainly, and began to roll off of him. "Don't forget Captain, you're still tied up."
"You didn't let me finish." He said in a tremulous voice. "That's the last time I let you act out one of your fantasies without warning me first."
Hannibal sat on the corner of the bed smiling as he unfastened the restraints.
Murdock rolled over, still out of breath, staring into Hannibal's mischievous blue eyes.
Hannibal rubbed his hand over Murdock's quivering abdomen and heavily heaving chest. He bent down and delivered a bruising kiss to him, tangling their tongues together in a passionate battle, while grabbing one of his erect nipples and squeezing down hard, smiling as Murdock moaned into his mouth. Hannibal finished the kiss by gently trailing his tongue across Murdock's soft lips, before tucking his cock back into his pants. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, which he was still wearing, and pulled out a cigar. He clenched it in between his teeth, and headed for the window.
Before exiting he turned to look at his victim one more time. "That was your warning Murdock," He said with a smirk. He climbed out the window and grabbed the pane, "see you soon," he smiled. He then winked, closed the window, and left.
Murdock fell asleep right away, with a huge smile on his face....
All I wanted wuz uh nice, safe, monogomous relationship. Of course in high skoo I wuz uh simple guy, uh bit different from da rest o' da peeps where I grew up. I had uh direction an' uh purpose; where most kids wuz interested in going ta parties an' getting fucked-up (and maybe uh peek if deywuz lucky), I wanted ta study an' make somethin' o' myself.
You know da kind. Poor whitey trash tring ta make somethin' o' himself; da kid in da corner wiff da glasses held together by tape, calculator in hand. If dis here wuz an earlier age, he'd be trying ta read da little negroid numbers off da slipstick; maybe in da future it'suh laptop wiff holograms projecting out o' it'ssurface.
Except dat I never wore glasses. My parents told me dat in order ta git along in dis here life ya need ta dress well an' peep pimp-tight, an' who gives uh damn about yo' brains. So I'm just shy o' 6 feet tall an' fairly well built; I even play waterpolo when sufficiently fucked-up enough not ta care. But muh ma fuckin desire wuz ta be uh professional, perhaps uh systems analyst, wiff uh nice wife an' uh couple o' kids. The dog in da front yard an' da Volvo in da garage iz optional, o' course.
When I wuz admitted into Pacific Tech, I wuz elated. All da hard study an' pimp-tight grades allowed me into one o' da toughest schools in da state. Yes, da place had uh 6 ta 1 ratio male ta beotch, but I wuz only dere ta study. As soon as I figured out what I wanted ta do wiff muh ma fuckin life, an' as soon as I graduated ta uh successful job I would jet about finding dat nice biotch who I could marry an' live happily ever afta wiff. My life wuz progressing quite nicely, thank ya, an' on da path I forordained fo' myself.
One o' da first things dat happens at PacTech (as we's all knew da place) wuz "Freshman Camp", uh place where all da students jet ta learn about da honor code an' meet da various fraternities. It'sgenerally uh three day affair which takes place in uh small cove just south o' Avon on Santa Catalina Island.
We all gathered in da middle o' da student houses fo' da bus ride out. The freshman class, about 200 students, brought they gear out an' waited. Looking around I found mo' than uh sufficient supply o' calculators hanging from nerdy guy'sbelts ta satisfy da computational requirement o' any one o' NASA'sspace probes. I wuz glad fo' muh ma fuckin parent'sadvice ta keep care o' myself an' muh ma fuckin apperance; I certainly stood out from da crowd!
The busses arrived, an' da great mass proceeded ta sheeit themselves in. Not in any particular hurry I moved ta da back o' da second bus, an' made myself comfortable. As da bus packed, uh rather fine ass ho picked me out, an' worked her way ta da back ta join me.
She wore uh rather tight leather miniskirt, uh tank top, an' uh negroid leather jacket; da exception ta da rule o' t-shirts an' messed up fro. From dis here vantage I seen uh rather shapely ass an' thighs dressed in negroid fish-net stockings, an' somethin' inside o' me awoke fo' da first tyme.
It wasn't like I hadn't ever seen uh ho 'bfoe. I had dated some in high skoo. It just wuz, well, not in muh ma fuckin plans fo' da future. I be uh goal- directed person; if it'stowards muh ma fuckin goal I be mo' agressive than most an' stubborn as uh mule. If it ain't in da direction I wants ta jet, however, nuttin' can cause it ta capture muh ma fuckin interest.
But somethin' about da way she breathed wuz impressive. Her shape, her long flaming red fro, da smell o' her purfume; I couldn't move, couldn't th'o't. Something mo' primitive wuz trying ta rest da controls o' muh ma fuckin life away from me, an' I wasn't too certain I should give in. When she asked if she could join me, I stammered "uh, sure", an' she giggled as she sat down an' snuggled up next ta me. And muh ma fuckin poor mind fried.
Scotty, beam me up! Circuit overload! Red alert! (And as uh vision o' me rubbing her thighs, or letting muh ma fuckin hand run itself up ta da fro between her legs.) She held muh ma fuckin hand an' asked if I wuz okay. I didn't know. The Volvo wuz sinking fast.
We arrived some thiddy minutes an' three thousand years later at da dock where our boat would be taking da freshman class out ta da island. Gloria, still holding muh ma fuckin hand an' chatting away about her family an' her niggas in high skoo, wuz still snuggled up very close ta me, an' I wuz stiff. Holding hands wuz safe, but somethin' inside o' me wuz telling me dat it wasn't. The boat arrived, we's moved ta dere, an' she sat herself on muh ma fuckin lap, holding on ta me as da boat moved towards it'sdestination.
Actually da boat ride wasn't too bad; muh ma fuckin mind havin' overloaded itself wiff da possibility dat dere may be mo' ta life than computers an' uh cosy marriage in da distant future. I rubbed her back an' told her about da place where I grew up; she held on ta me an' told me about her crib in Texas an' how da waters in da ocean wuz so warm dat she'd jet swimming nude in da moonlight.
Once da boat arrived, we's wuz seperated. The class seperated, wuz processed, placed into they appropriate rooms or tents as da shit warranted, an' sent on our way ta da lectures, meetings, an' group talks which wuz supposed ta dominate our life fo' da next few days. Of course I wuz disappointed; fo' da rest o' da day through lunch an' dinner I hoped ta meet Gloria an' hold her hand, but o' course (my rational part told me) muh ma fuckin purpose at PacTech wuz ta study.
After dinner dere wuz uh "campfire". With two hundred peeps attending it's rather hard ta sit around uh single fire an' be cozy; an' about an hour into dis here listening ta kids jive about they science fair experiments an' how dey wanted ta revolutionize Artificial Intelligence wiff da unique insight dey possessed, I quietly left.
Behind da campsite dere iz uh hill called "Bible Peak." It iz uh hill about two hundred feet up wiff uh cross o' wood at da top. It also possessed one o' da bomb views o' da campsite an' da ocean below. In full moonlight I made da hour trek ta da top o' da hill, where I found uh rock an' sat still, watching da whitey waves crash below.
While contemplating da stars an' muh ma fuckin future I heard uh twig snap behind me. Startled, I turned around. A dark figure worked it'sway up da last 10 feet o' hill an' sat itself beside me, moon at it'sback. Without uh werd, it started stroking muh ma fuckin fro an' face, relaxing me.
Gloria! I wuz happy ta see her ag'in, as I missed her company from da morning bus trip. She stood over me, while stroking muh ma fuckin fro, an' started ta werk herself out o' her tank top.
I grabbed her hand. "Hang on," I said, "maybe we's should jive. I've never done dis here 'bfoe. Can ya just sit here an' jive wiff me uh while?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know. Are ya okay?"
"Uh, jaa. You just take muh ma fuckin breath away. Sorry; I'm just new at dis here. Please forgive me. God yo' fine." I wuz in overload; dere wuz about uh dozen things I wanted ta tell her but dat wuz da bomb I could do.
She sat down next ta me an' held muh ma fuckin hand, an' we's talked some mo'. She had an interest in photography an' I told her how fine da moon an' ocean would be captured on film. I told her about da stars where I wuz from an' how if ya wuz patient ya could make out da Milky Way. She asked me about muh ma fuckin lovers an' I admitted dere had been none; I wuz always interested in fufilling muh ma fuckin dreams, but I had ta admit I wasn't certain what dey wuz anymo'. We laughed, an' when she jet ta kiss me on da cheek, it seemed natural ta kiss her on da lips.
She let her hands glide over muh ma fuckin back an' I held her an' stroked her fro. She shivered when I ran muh ma fuckin fingernails down her back, an' experimentally, I let muh ma fuckin fingers run lower an' lower over her ass as well. I wispered in her ear, asking if she wuz aight, an' she responded by tumbling us both over onto da grass, her on top.
She pinned me down wiff her hands on muh ma fuckin elbows, an' laughed. "I've got ya now. What should I do wiff ya?" "Uh, whatever ya wish; you've got me, afta all." To which, she started ta unbutton muh ma fuckin shirt an' kissing muh ma fuckin chest.
I worked her tank top off an' started rubbing da skin underneath. Her nipples felt hard against muh ma fuckin bare chest, an' she gasped quietly when I ran muh ma fuckin fingers over dem. Perfectly shaped, she held one ta muh ma fuckin mouth an' I started licking it, first gently, then hard, pulling da enire nipple in wiff muh ma fuckin mouth an' pressed around da tip wiff muh ma fuckin toung.
Gloria picked her weight off o' muh ma fuckin hips an' worked her way around ta start taking muh ma fuckin pants off. I rotated towards her on muh ma fuckin side an' started rubbing her thighs. Allowing muh ma fuckin hands ta werk they way up her tight miniskirt, I found her pubic fro wet, though then I had nahh idea why.
After working muh ma fuckin pants off o' me, she licked muh ma fuckin stiff jimmy an' started sucking hard. What fragments o' muh ma fuckin mind dat survived up until then had been blown, wiff da smell o' her long red fro an' her firm ass in muh ma fuckin hands, muh ma fuckin hard jimmy in her mouth an' part ways down her throat.
She asked me then if I wanted ta make love. I said yeea , but I didn't know how. "Don't worry; let me do da rollin'." She unfastened her skirt an' let it drop ta da ground, an' sat herself on me, slowly working me inside. Holding muh ma fuckin wrists ta da ground, she rocked her hips back an' forth until I wuz all da way in, an' rythmically she brought herself up an' down.
I wuz breathless. Gloria smiled at me an' shuddered, getting tighter an' tighter around me wiff each pass. She rocked fo' several minutes, an' then wiff some effort pushed herself upright, brushing her fro upright an' allowing me full view o' her glorious chest. I reached up an' grabbed one, then da other, an' circled her tits wiff da tips o' muh ma fuckin fingers, spiralling from da outside ta da nipples. It seemed forever she rocked on top o' me, both o' us moaning an' not carring who found us dere, until I exploded, an' fo' uh moment her face shined in somethin' mo' than moonlight.
I asked her "Why me?" at some point during our lovemaking, an' she laughed, saying "Your cute, an' I liked da way ya tried ta cover yo' shyness on da boat ride over." After our lovemaking I held her in muh ma fuckin arms an' ran muh ma fuckin fingers down her back. By dis here tyme it mus' gots been midnight; da moon now low over da hills, an' she snuggled close, spoon fashion; dis here tyme fo' warmth.
My hands fell on her stomach, an' I drew circles around her bellybutton an' across da top o' her pubic fro. Turned on by dis here I bit da back o' her neck softly, an' ran muh ma fuckin fingers up an' down from her chest ta her crotch. Her back arched, pressing her ass against muh ma fuckin now stiffened member. Grabbing it, I pushed it forwards an' in, brushing her clit wiff muh ma fuckin fingers in da process. "May I cruize dis here tyme?"
She arched her back even mo', reaching around an' grabbing muh ma fuckin ass ta he`p me in deeper. I held her, one arm around her stomach, an' da other arm propping her head up an' holding her close. We rocked, I rollin' myself even deeper an' deeper as she moaned. I wuz sure we's mus' gots been heard, but I really didn't care; da only thin' dat mattered wuz dis here phat ho in muh ma fuckin arms, an' rollin' her as wild as I could.
She broke out in uh cold sweat all o' uh sudden, an' I felt uh wetness down below dat wasn't from me. She then gasped, an' her grip on muh ma fuckin ass tightened as I exploded ag'in, clamping down on muh ma fuckin teeth ta keep from yelling at da top o' muh ma fuckin lungs.
We met every night on dat trip; each tyme in uh different location near da campsite. She taught me da fundamentals o' sex, her shapely body infinitely adaptable ta all o' about uh dozen different positions. And as we's sailed back ta da mainland back ta skoo proper we's held each other at da front o' da boat, her arm around muh ma fuckin waist an' on muh ma fuckin ass, an' muh ma fuckin arm around her body, hand inside o' her leather jacket.
It'sbeen almost seven years since muh ma fuckin introduction ta da mysteries. Gloria iz now married an' living somewhere on da east coast; I haven't seen her in years. I now live alone in uh one bedroom apartment in Pasadena; somehow da thought o' uh crib wiff uh wife an' kids, Volvo an' dog in da yard just don' appeal ta me da same way as it did 'bfoe. It'snot uh goal da way it wuz fo' me before; now it'sjust somethin' dat I might like ta gots someday.
I gots had quite uh few lovers since dat night; I've even been in uh few manage-a-tois. With each lover I gots learned somethin' different about sex an' making love; wiff each person sex iz different but always fly. But fo' me, da first tyme wuz special, uh tyme dat I shall remember always.
All I wanted was a nice, safe, monogomous relationship.
Of course in high school I was a simple guy, a bit different from the rest of the people where I grew up. I had a direction and a purpose; where most kids were interested in going to parties and getting drunk (and maybe a peek if they were lucky), I wanted to study and make something of myself.
You know the kind. Poor white trash tring to make something of himself; the kid in the corner with the glasses held together by tape, calculator in hand. If this were an earlier age, he'd be trying to read the little black numbers off the slipstick; maybe in the future it's a laptop with holograms projecting out of it's surface.
Except that I never wore glasses. My parents told me that in order to get along in this life you need to dress well and look good, and who gives a damn about your brains. So I'm just shy of 6 feet tall and fairly well built; I even play waterpolo when sufficiently drunk enough not to care. But my desire was to be a professional, perhaps a systems analyst, with a nice wife and a couple of kids. The dog in the front yard and the Volvo in the garage is optional, of course.
When I was admitted into Pacific Tech, I was elated. All the hard study and good grades allowed me into one of the toughest schools in the state. Yes, the place had a 6 to 1 ratio male to female, but I was only there to study. As soon as I figured out what I wanted to do with my life, and as soon as I graduated to a successful job I would go about finding that nice woman who I could marry and live happily ever after with. My life was progressing quite nicely, thank you, and on the path I forordained for myself.
One of the first things that happens at PacTech (as we all knew the place) was "Freshman Camp", a place where all the students went to learn about the honor code and meet the various fraternities. It's generally a three day affair which takes place in a small cove just south of Avon on Santa Catalina Island.
We all gathered in the middle of the student houses for the bus ride out. The freshman class, about 200 students, brought their gear out and waited. Looking around I found more than a sufficient supply of calculators hanging from nerdy guy's belts to satisfy the computational requirement of any one of NASA's space probes. I was glad for my parent's advice to keep care of myself and my apperance; I certainly stood out from the crowd!
The busses arrived, and the great mass proceeded to stuff themselves in. Not in any particular hurry I moved to the back of the second bus, and made myself comfortable. As the bus packed, a rather pretty girl picked me out, and worked her way to the back to join me.
She wore a rather tight leather miniskirt, a tank top, and a black leather jacket; the exception to the rule of t-shirts and messed up hair. From this vantage I saw a rather shapely ass and thighs dressed in black fish-net stockings, and something inside of me awoke for the first time.
It wasn't like I hadn't ever seen a girl before. I had dated some in high school. It just was, well, not in my plans for the future. I am a goal- directed person; if it's towards my goal I am more agressive than most and stubborn as a mule. If it isn't in the direction I want to go, however, nothing can cause it to capture my interest.
But something about the way she breathed was impressive. Her shape, her long flaming red hair, the smell of her purfume; I couldn't move, couldn't think. Something more primitive was trying to rest the controls of my life away from me, and I wasn't too certain I should give in. When she asked if she could join me, I stammered "uh, sure", and she giggled as she sat down and snuggled up next to me. And my poor mind fried.
Scotty, beam me up! Circuit overload! Red alert! (And as a vision of me rubbing her thighs, or letting my hand run itself up to the hair between her legs.) She held my hand and asked if I was okay. I didn't know. The Volvo was sinking fast.
We arrived some thirty minutes and three thousand years later at the dock where our boat would be taking the freshman class out to the island. Gloria, still holding my hand and chatting away about her family and her friends in high school, was still snuggled up very close to me, and I was stiff. Holding hands was safe, but something inside of me was telling me that it wasn't. The boat arrived, we moved to there, and she sat herself on my lap, holding on to me as the boat moved towards it's destination.
Actually the boat ride wasn't too bad; my mind having overloaded itself with the possibility that there may be more to life than computers and a cosy marriage in the distant future. I rubbed her back and told her about the place where I grew up; she held on to me and told me about her house in Texas and how the waters in the ocean were so warm that she'd go swimming nude in the moonlight.
Once the boat arrived, we were seperated. The class seperated, was processed, placed into their appropriate rooms or tents as the situation warranted, and sent on our way to the lectures, meetings, and group talks which were supposed to dominate our life for the next few days. Of course I was disappointed; for the rest of the day through lunch and dinner I hoped to meet Gloria and hold her hand, but of course (my rational part told me) my purpose at PacTech was to study.
After dinner there was a "campfire". With two hundred people attending it's rather hard to sit around a single fire and be cozy; and about an hour into this listening to kids talk about their science fair experiments and how they wanted to revolutionize Artificial Intelligence with the unique insight they possessed, I quietly left.
Behind the campsite there is a hill called "Bible Peak." It is a hill about two hundred feet up with a cross of wood at the top. It also possessed one of the best views of the campsite and the ocean below. In full moonlight I made the hour trek to the top of the hill, where I found a rock and sat still, watching the white waves crash below.
While contemplating the stars and my future I heard a twig snap behind me. Startled, I turned around. A dark figure worked it's way up the last 10 feet of hill and sat itself beside me, moon at it's back. Without a word, it started stroking my hair and face, relaxing me.
Gloria! I was happy to see her again, as I missed her company from the morning bus trip. She stood over me, while stroking my hair, and started to work herself out of her tank top.
I grabbed her hand. "Hang on," I said, "maybe we should talk. I've never done this before. Can you just sit here and talk with me a while?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know. Are you okay?"
"Uh, yeah. You just take my breath away. Sorry; I'm just new at this. Please forgive me. God your beautiful." I was in overload; there were about a dozen things I wanted to tell her but that was the best I could do.
She sat down next to me and held my hand, and we talked some more. She had an interest in photography and I told her how beautiful the moon and ocean would be captured on film. I told her about the stars where I was from and how if you were patient you could make out the Milky Way. She asked me about my lovers and I admitted there had been none; I was always interested in fufilling my dreams, but I had to admit I wasn't certain what they were anymore. We laughed, and when she went to kiss me on the cheek, it seemed natural to kiss her on the lips.
She let her hands glide over my back and I held her and stroked her hair. She shivered when I ran my fingernails down her back, and experimentally, I let my fingers run lower and lower over her ass as well. I wispered in her ear, asking if she was alright, and she responded by tumbling us both over onto the grass, her on top.
She pinned me down with her hands on my elbows, and laughed. "I've got you now. What should I do with you?" "Uh, whatever you wish; you've got me, after all." To which, she started to unbutton my shirt and kissing my chest.
I worked her tank top off and started rubbing the skin underneath. Her nipples felt hard against my bare chest, and she gasped quietly when I ran my fingers over them. Perfectly shaped, she held one to my mouth and I started licking it, first gently, then hard, pulling the enire nipple in with my mouth and pressed around the tip with my toung.
Gloria picked her weight off of my hips and worked her way around to start taking my pants off. I rotated towards her on my side and started rubbing her thighs. Allowing my hands to work their way up her tight miniskirt, I found her pubic hair wet, though then I had no idea why.
After working my pants off of me, she licked my stiff cock and started sucking hard. What fragments of my mind that survived up until then had been blown, with the smell of her long red hair and her firm ass in my hands, my hard cock in her mouth and part ways down her throat.
She asked me then if I wanted to make love. I said yes, but I didn't know how. "Don't worry; let me do the driving." She unfastened her skirt and let it drop to the ground, and sat herself on me, slowly working me inside. Holding my wrists to the ground, she rocked her hips back and forth until I was all the way in, and rythmically she brought herself up and down.
I was breathless. Gloria smiled at me and shuddered, getting tighter and tighter around me with each pass. She rocked for several minutes, and then with some effort pushed herself upright, brushing her hair upright and allowing me full view of her glorious chest. I reached up and grabbed one, then the other, and circled her tits with the tips of my fingers, spiralling from the outside to the nipples. It seemed forever she rocked on top of me, both of us moaning and not carring who found us there, until I exploded, and for a moment her face shined in something more than moonlight.
I asked her "Why me?" at some point during our lovemaking, and she laughed, saying "Your cute, and I liked the way you tried to cover your shyness on the boat ride over." After our lovemaking I held her in my arms and ran my fingers down her back. By this time it must have been midnight; the moon now low over the hills, and she snuggled close, spoon fashion; this time for warmth.
My hands fell on her stomach, and I drew circles around her bellybutton and across the top of her pubic hair. Turned on by this I bit the back of her neck softly, and ran my fingers up and down from her chest to her crotch. Her back arched, pressing her ass against my now stiffened member. Grabbing it, I pushed it forwards and in, brushing her clit with my fingers in the process. "May I drive this time?"
She arched her back even more, reaching around and grabbing my ass to help me in deeper. I held her, one arm around her stomach, and the other arm propping her head up and holding her close. We rocked, I driving myself even deeper and deeper as she moaned. I was sure we must have been heard, but I really didn't care; the only thing that mattered was this sexy girl in my arms, and driving her as wild as I could.
She broke out in a cold sweat all of a sudden, and I felt a wetness down below that wasn't from me. She then gasped, and her grip on my ass tightened as I exploded again, clamping down on my teeth to keep from yelling at the top of my lungs.
We met every night on that trip; each time in a different location near the campsite. She taught me the fundamentals of sex, her shapely body infinitely adaptable to all of about a dozen different positions. And as we sailed back to the mainland back to school proper we held each other at the front of the boat, her arm around my waist and on my ass, and my arm around her body, hand inside of her leather jacket.
It's been almost seven years since my introduction to the mysteries. Gloria is now married and living somewhere on the east coast; I haven't seen her in years. I now live alone in a one bedroom apartment in Pasadena; somehow the thought of a house with a wife and kids, Volvo and dog in the yard just doesn't appeal to me the same way as it did before. It's not a goal the way it was for me before; now it's just something that I might like to have someday.
I have had quite a few lovers since that night; I've even been in a few manage-a-tois. With each lover I have learned something different about sex and making love; with each person sex is different but always wonderful. But for me, the first time was special, a time that I shall remember always.
Jim Woban stared at the screen of his word processor and tried again to make words appear. Sometimes it was too frustra- ting to bear. A story would begin and take itself through chap- ters of action, romance and mystery, and then leave him aban- doned, suddenly without words or inspiration, only a deadline for his tyrannical editor, Jake, or Arnie, his parasite of an agent!
He caught himself and mentally chastised his thoughts. Both men had been more than fair and helped him through the rough times of his divorce, extending time and money when they would have been more than justified in leaving him in a pool of self- pity and cheap Scotch.
It had only been a few months, seven, to be exact, that he had suddenly found himself single, his net worth dramatically reduced, and his world in a total shambles. Since then, he had sold the house, invested as much of the money as he could (thanks to Arnie's nagging) and moved to this rented room to finish the novel Jake had commissioned at some jeopardy to his own position. His publishing house disliked large advances to lush writers whose past efforts were slightly above mediocre!
In the kitchen below him, he could hear Katie Sorben moving about cooking dinner for her husband and their boarder. Katie and Karl were in their early thirties, but had only been married a few years; both had been married before. Karl was a machinist at a local plant and Katie worked 6 A.M. to Noon at a bakery. They had bought a large house with a large mortgage and found they had to take in a boarder to make ends meet. Their ad had hit the paper two months after Jim's life jumped into the dumper.
Ten years their senior, he lived quietly and tried not to interfere in their daily lives, with the exception of the dinner meal. Lately, Karl had been inviting him to join them watching the Sunday football games and Katie had extended the invitation to other T.V. shows during the week. They were cheerful and po- lite, neither of them prying into his private affairs or pressing their own business on him.
Sometimes he would hear them arguing with one another like any other married couple, but in most cases, life in the Sorben household went along on an even keel. From time to time, he would hear the unmistakable sounds of their lovemaking. Katie, he noted, was a "squealer" and, apparently, Karl gave her something to squeal about.
After his divorce, the thought of any type of romantic or sexual encounter chilled him thoroughly. True, Katie's muffled squeals sometimes sent him into an Onanistic fantasy, but he channeled his efforts and energies into his work. He grinned as he reread a portion he had written one evening when she and Karl had been especially loud. He wondered if she would ever guess she had been the inspiration for one of the juicier situations in his novel.
It was not difficult to let his mind wander as he thought of her tight, chunky figure moving about the kitchen under her kimono. Katie was not terribly buxom, but her breasts and but- tocks moved freely when she wore nothing under her robe. She was not flagrant but she carried an understated sexuality that seemed to always suggest something more than met the eye. A slight lift to an eyebrow, a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth - there was just something about her Jim could only classify as sexy.
Karl, on the other hand, was tall, lanky and outgoing. He liked to laugh and yet, retained a sort of privacy Jim could ap- preciate. To Jim's pleasant surprise, he found that the man's lack of formal schooling had not prevented him from being rather well-read and quite sensitive. A T.V. tear-jerker could bring tears to his eyes and he made no apologies. Jim grew to like him quickly and Karl seemed to return the feeling.
The three of them lived together quietly, contentedly and peacefully.
Until the afternoon Katie dropped the butter.
He had been trying to write, but was in a dead end. Hearing Katie preparing dinner, he decided to take a break and get a cold soda before trying to do anymore. In the kitchen, Katie was busi- ly getting out the ingredients for a Bundt cake when he walked in. She was wearing a short robe, as she often did in the after- noons. Usually, after work, she went out somewhere, came home and showered, started dinner, and then went upstairs to dress before they sat down to eat. The sight of Katie in a short kimono was certainly pleasant, but it was nothing new.
As Jim entered the kitchen, Katie dropped a quarter pound bar of butter on the floor.
"Shit!" she exclaimed, and bent over to pick it up, still balancing a measuring cup of milk in one hand.
As she bent over, her robe slid up to clearly expose the naked cheeks of her behind and the fur covered lips of her pussy. Jim stood frozen as she picked up the butter and put it back on the counter. Then she turned and saw him.
She must have known by the look on his face what he had seen, but she looked directly at him with a half-smile.
"It was the last damned butter in the house!" she said.
He swallowed hard.
"Want me to run out and get some more?"
"No. I'll let Karl pick some up on his way home. I'll use shortening for the cake. I just hate to have to clean up this greasy mess," she said indicating where the remnants of the but- ter showed clearly on the floor.
Taking a cloth from the counter, she turned again to bend down and wipe the floor, and again her robe slipped up to expose her behind. Jim's eyes opened wide as he watched.
"How does it look?" she asked him.
He stood tongue-tied.
"The floor," she said. "Did I get it all?"
"Yeah!" Jim answered. "It looks good. Real Good."
Katie burst into a fit of laughter.
"You're something else," she roared. "Wait 'til Karl hears this one!"
Jim was mortified. He never intended to spy on the woman, let alone get involved in a confrontation with her husband.
"I...I'm sorry!" he stammered. "I just wanted a drink. I didn't mean to..."
"Oh, Jim!" she laughed. "Don't worry. You don't know Karl. He'll get as big a kick out of it as I do. You've got to be the shiest man I've ever seen! And besides, I'm kind of flattered you liked looking at me. You did, didn't you?"
"Well, sure. I guess," Jim stammered. "I'm a little con- fused, Katie. What's going on?"
"Don't be. Sit down," she said as she poured a soda for him. "You've been here almost four months and you haven't been out of the house once. Socially, I mean. You're an attractive man, Jim. You should be seeing people. You can bring women here if you want. Karl and I don't mind."
"I just don't have time," he muttered.
"Balls! All you're doing is making yourself horny as a goat. i saw the way you've been watching me. It's all right, of course, but you should be getting out. Karl thinks so too."
"I really don;t know anybody, Katie. And I was never real great at the singles scene. I'm sorry if I seem to be staring at you too much. I'll be more discreet from now on."
Katie suddenly threw open her robe and exposed her small breasts.
"How's that for discreet!" she challenged. "Hell, Jim, Karl and I don't care if you want to look at me, it's just that you're a nice guy and you shouldn't be depriving yourself of sex just because you had a bad time once. I mean, we're really concerned about you."
Jim could not believe what she was saying, but continued to stare at her breasts. The nipples were small and brown and poin- ty. Her breasts were soft and well-shaped with just a little sag that made them all the more attractive. All he could think of was how they would feel between his lips. It had been so, so long!
"Jim, come back," she called and pulled her robe closed. "You're farther gone than I'd thought. Maybe Karl was right."
Jim shook his head.
"What do you mean? Right about what?"
She blushed and glanced at him with a look that he felt go all the way to his groin.
"Oh, nothing," she said. "Well, not nothing, but..."
She got up and walked across the kitchen to one of the cup- boards.
"Do me a favor?" she asked. "Reach up and get me that cake pan, would you?"
The pan was on the very highest shelf and when he reached up to get it, he had to balance himself on tiptoe while he worked the pan from under a pile of other things.
Without warning, he felt her hand grope his crotch.
"God damn!" he exploded.
"Don't drop anything!" she warned.
"What the Hell are you doing?" he demanded.
"I just wanted to see something, that's all. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Jim extracted the pan and regained his composure.
"I don't know if I'm ready for this," he gasped. "You're a beautiful woman, Katie, but I don't want Karl kicking my ass for messing around with his wife."
Katie laughed and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
"Don't worry about that. You liked it, didn't you?"
"That's not the point."
"Of course it is," she told him. "We're going to have to get you taken care of, and that's all there is to it."
Jim considered skipping dinner that evening, but decided it would be best to face the music.
Karl was in a particularly good humor as Jim joined them at the table. To his dismay, though, Katie had not changed, but still wore the abbreviated robe and, very obviously, nothing else. Karl, too, wore a Japanese-style Hopi jacket belted with a sash. It bore the same design as Katie's, a large red butterfly in a circle of yellow. He was sitting down, but it struck Jim that he probably wore nothing else, as well!
"Katie tells me you two had quite a day," Karl announced shortly after they had begun eating. "Now you can see just why I married her. Cutest little ass in captivity. How about it?"
Jim nodded silently and looked from one to the other.
Karl laughed and reached over to pat Jim's shoulder reas- suringly.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to jump you for admiring my wife's body. If I did that, I'd be jumping most of the men in this town. We're just worried about you, Jim. I told her she should trim your tree, but she didn't think you'd want to go along with it. Why don't you let us fix you up with a friend of ours?"
"I...I don't think so," Jim began.
"C'mon, Jim!" Katie urged. "Susan's a nice person. You'll like her. It's not like you're going to the Senior Prom, after all!"
"You might even get lucky," Karl added with a wink toward his wife.
Jim shrugged. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a woman and seeing Katie had not made things any easier.
"What's she like?" he asked.
"Nice," Katie offered. "You'll like her."
"She's a lot of fun and decent looking, too," Karl added.
"She's divorced and horny. Just like you," Katie giggled.
"And best of all, she's a Butterfly," Karl declared.
Jim waited for him to explain. When he failed to elaborate, Jim asked, "What's a Butterfly?"
Karl held out his right hand and showed Jim a small ring. It bore the same butterfly design that he and Katie wore on their robes. Katie held out her hand and showed him hers. It was iden- tical to Karl's.
"We met each other through Butterfly," she told him. "It's a special group of people. That's all."
"What do they do?" he asked.
Karl laughed and told him, "More later. Tomorrow Susan and then, who knows? The important thing is to get you out of your funk and back into the world."
"I suppose so," Jim sighed. "But for now, I have a book to finish or I'm going to be very, very far behind in the rent."
"Is it like Beauregard Flats?" Karl asked.
"You read it?"
"I'm just finishing it now. I didn't know you wrote it until I saw your picture on the jacket. I didn't know we had a celeb- rity in the house!"
"According to my editor, you don't. And if I don't start getting some ideas working, you never will!"
"Where do you get ideas from?" Katie asked.
"Life, I guess," Jim told her.
"Wasn't Beau Flats a bisexual?" Karl asked.
"Yes. That was the point of the whole thing."
"I mean, some of the scenes you wrote were really realistic. I thought you said you wrote from experience!"
Katie giggled as Jim squirmed.
"I also have a good imagination," he assured them.
Karl grinned at him.
After dinner he went back to his room and continued to write. The words came a little better, but not the way he liked them. It was nearly 11 when he heard a light knock on the door. He went to open it and found Katie in a sheer baby doll nightie very visibly without bottoms.
"I saw your light and wondered if you wanted anything," she told him.
He looked at her dark nipples and the triangle of her pubic patch showing through the sheer fabric and licked his lips.
"I mean from the kitchen," she said impishly. "Karl's a- sleep, but I feel like making some hot chocolate. Want me to bring you some?"
"That sounds good," he replied. "Let me turn this computer off and I'll come down with you."
They walked down the hallway to the stairs. Katie turned to him and put her fingers to her lips with a little giggle just as they passed the doorway to her and Karl's bedroom. Her naked hus- band lay sprawled across the bed, snoring lightly. The shiny spots on his stomach and penis gave ample evidence of what had exhausted him. The bottoms of Katie's baby dolls lay crumpled on the floor.
Jim's eyes took in everything in the room, but dwelled on Karl's penis as the man slept. It was soft and curled, not pro- digiously large, but smooth and white-looking framed by a mane of light hair. Jim Woban was no fag, but seeing the naked man sleep- ing while his nearly naked wife led him down to the kitchen stirred an odd excitement deep inside him.
At the bottom of the stairs, Katie stopped suddenly and turned too fast for Jim to stop in time and he came up hard a- gainst her. Instinctively, he reached out to keep her from falling and felt her warm flesh through the sheer nightie as his hand lay spread across her behind.
"Mm!" she murmured. "Is that for me or Karl?"
She rubbed hard against his growing erection.
"What do you think?" he whispered hoarsely.
"I think that if you don't fuck something pretty soon, you're going to explode!" she told him.
Jim kissed her deeply and felt her small body moving against his, her hand snaking its way between them to open his zipper and slip inside expertly. He slid both hands down under the nightie and smoothed them up to cup and knead her bare ass. His penis was out of his pants now and he was aware of the cool air moving a- cross it as she stroked it gently back and forth.
Without letting go, she led him into the living room and sat down on the couch. Closing her eyes, she took the head of his cock into her mouth and savored it gently, running her tongue beneath it and milking what juices she could eke from him. Stretching the skin back tightly, she slid more into her mouth sucking and tonguing him at the same time. The feeling was exqui- site and he felt himself quickly building to a climax.
It was coming too fast and he forced himself to pull away from her. She looked up at him with a frown, but soon smiled a- gain as he dropped to his knees and pushed her thighs apart. He looked at the swollen lips of her pussy and saw the pink tip of her clitoris winking at him. He did not hesitate, fastened his lips to it at laved it with his tongue. He slid down to lick the pink inner lips and reamed her vagina with his tongue. Her thighs wrapped around his head and he smelled and tasted the strong scent of Karl's come still dripping from within her. A rush of desire overwhelmed him and licked and sucked at her pussy fur- iously making loud slurping sounds as he heard her whimpering softly in the far, far distance.
She came in a rush with her legs spread wide and her hands pulling his face deeper into her cunt. She thrusted her pelvis against him and made rough gutteral sounds as her climax rolled over her again and again. Before she could subside, Jim crawled up and slipped his cock into her deeply. He came almost immed- iately, great gobs of come spurting into her as he gasped for the sheer pleasure that overwhelmed him.
"Karl was right," Katie said as she leaned back with a con- tented smile. "You really are Butterfly material. I'd better keep my eye on you two!"
"What are you talking about?"
"That's O.K., Jim. I love bisexual men. Hell, I'm a Butter- fly too, aren't I?"
Jim was too confused and exhausted to press it any further. He leaned back and his cheek came in contact with the inside of her thigh. It was wet with their fluids running out of her. Her hand caressing the back of his neck, however, told him she was far from done. Surprisingly enough, neither was he!
"Eat me and I'll suck you off," she whispered fiercely as she urged his face into her bush.
The familiar taste of his come overshadowed even the sweet taste of her as he slowly licked her. He ran his tongue expertly up and down the line from her clitoris to her ass, stopping to swirl his tongue here or gently suck on something soft there. Without lifting his lips, he pressed three fingers inside her and tickled her asshole with his thumb. Moments later, he was re- warded by spasms shaking her as she came again.
"You're good!" she told him. "Susan will love you!"
"You think so?"
"So will Karl. He already told me so."
"Whoa!"
Katie laughed.
"Don't play innocent with me," she told him. "I saw how you licked up his come out of me. Besides, Karl told me you couldn't have written what you did unless you had done it. You have, have- n't you?"
"I think you have a mistaken impression of me," he told her. "I'm not a fag."
"Of course not. I'm not a Lez but sometimes I like a little variety. C'mon, how about I suck you off right now? You and Karl can sort things out later."
She slid to the floor on her knees and captured Jim's limp penis and balls between her hands. Leaving slick trails of sali- va, she licked them over and over.
"I love to taste pussy on a cock," she told him breathlessly and went back to her task.
He felt her suck his soft cock into her mouth and reached down to massage her small breasts. The nipples were as hard as tiny stones, but her breasts were soft and pliable. Her mouth worked busily at her penis and he felt the blood beginning to flow into it as it slowly filled her mouth. As it rose to its full length, she sucked it in and out, running a wet finger in and out of his asshole with each stroke. Only one other person had ever done that to him and he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to fend off the memory.
He and Chuck were fifteen when they spent the summer at Chuck's parents' place on the bay. They fished and swam and talked about girls and sex and all the things they talked about any other time. Somehow their conversation changed during the overnight fishing trip they took.
It was very hot that night, and after building a campfire to cook the canned stew they brought, they had gone down to the river to cool off. There was no one within miles and Chuck had dared him to go skinny-dipping. After their swim they had gone back to the camp without dressing and sat beside the fire. Jim noticed that Chuck's penis was stiff and erect, and his rose, too. Chuck noticed it immediately.
"Christ! You have a monster!" he exclaimed.
"Large women and small cows," Jim responded.
"Do you jerk off much?" Chuck asked suddenly. "I do every day. Sometimes twice or three times."
Jim's breath caught in his throat.
"Sometimes," he said quietly.
"I like to pretend I'm fucking Barbie Holland," Chuck went on. "Sometimes I pretend she's sucking me off."
Jim did not answer. He was watching Chuck's hand slowly pul- ling on his cock. Barbie Holland was a girl a year older than them who had the earned reputation of being an easy lay. Neither boy had ever had a woman, but Barbie Holland was a mutual goal.
"Do you want to see me?" Chuck asked.
Jim nodded. He was holding his own cock by now. It was very sensitive and he stroked it self-consciously. Chuck, however, picked up tempo and was chafing his cock with a vengeance. Sud- denly he stopped.
"Hey, Jim. Did you ever do it with another guy? Jerk each other off, I mean?" he asked in a conspiratorial tone.
Jim shook his head.
"Hey! I will if you will," Chuck said, fear quavering in his voice.
Holding Chuck's cock was a different experience. It was not at all like holding his own. For one thing, it was smaller and thinner, although his balls hung large and full. They stroked each other awkwardly until Chuck made them stop and then changed position so he could concentrate on jerking off Jim's cock.
"It's so big," he said. "Have you ever had anybody suck it?"
Jim nodded a lie.
"How was it?"
"Great. It really felt good."
"I'll bet it did. God, I never had it. I never did it either. How about you?"
"No," Jim said. "I never sucked anybody before."
They were quiet for awhile and then Chuck laid back and let Jim jerk him off. Neither one had come.
"Jim?"
"What?"
"What did it feel like?"
"What?"
"Getting sucked."
"It's hard to describe."
"I don't see what's so bad about it."
"Getting sucked?"
"No. The other way around. Sucking a guy's dick."
"Everybody calls you 'queer' and all. And no girls want to have anything to do with you."
"Jim, I wouldn't tell if a guy sucked my dick. Would you?"
"I guess not."
"I mean, if I did it to you, would you tell? I wouldn't tell on you."
"No," said Jim. It was almost a whisper.
In the end, Chuck had gone first and taken the head of Jim's cock in his mouth for a few seconds.
"Your turn," he said.
Jim leaned down and slowly sucked Chuck's thin cock into his mouth. There was no taste, just the smooth sensation of the boy's penis throbbing on his tongue. He pulled his head away just as the white jism began to shoot out. One glob landed on his lips and he tasted it.
"You bastard!" he shouted.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it!" Chuck pleaded. "Look, don't get mad. I'll let you come on my lips if it makes you feel bet- ter. Here, let me do it to you again!"
Jim had held himself back while the boy sucked in earnest drawing as much of Jim's cock in is mouth as he could. Then, without any warning, he had let go and shot his wad in Chuck's mouth. To his surprise, the other boy did not pull away but con- tinued to suck and swallow.
"It tastes kind of like mine," Chuck confided moments later. "I always taste my come when I jerk off. Sometimes I try to catch it in my mouth. How about you?"
Jim shook his head, but the thought excited him.
They promised absolute secrecy again and sucked each other off, coming in one another's mouth and licking each other's balls. They arrived back at he house the following afternoon, complaining about the poor fishing and how the mosquitoes had kept them awake all night. The heads of both cocks were red and chafed from the continuous abuse they had received and both boys went to bed and slept for hours.
Neither of them mentioned their summer to anyone else and after the start of school, they never repeated the interludes they enjoyed that summer. They had tried everything they had ever heard about, though, enjoying some things and abandoning the things that did not suit them. As Katie's finger probed his ass- hole, he thought of Chuck's mouth sucking in and out while his fingers tickled Jim's balls and ass. It had been fun, but the guilt came years later as his thoughts went back unbidden to that summer. He was not queer and did not like the self-accusations that he, indeed, might be.
The fingers felt good though, and he spread his legs as Katie inserted two more. He and Chuck had taken turns fucking one another, but he had not liked the burning sensation of another man's cock in his ass. He had never repeated it, but Chuck had asked for it again and again. He had obliged the boy, driving his cock far into the smooth white ass while he massaged Chuck's prick and balls, making Chuck come over and over, and shooting his own jism deep into the boy.
As his memories came flooding back, the sensations Katie were stirring began to have an effect. He began to feel another orgasm building, amplified by her working tongue and her busy fingers. Suddenly she stopped and stood up.
"Lie down," she said urgently and crawled over his face even before he had fully complied.
With her forearms, she spread his legs wide and swallowed his cock once more,her fingers sliding back to his ass. Her pussy rubbed hard against his mouth and he burrowed his lips into it to catch the rich aroma of pussy mixed with the taste of his come. He sucked and licked, feeling her pulling another orgasm from his balls. Finally, he exploded once more in her mouth as she humped and ground her pussy against his face.
Firstly, introductions all round. My name is [removed to protect dolphinlovers], musician, pre-vet student and Delphinic Zoophile. People are often wondering just what the hell zoophilia is. Zoophilia is best described as a love of animals so intimate that the person (and the animal) involved have no objections to expressing their affection for each other in the sexual fashion. This is not to be confused with bestiality, where a person forcefully mates an animal, without their consent, and with no mutual feelings whatsoever. This is something that I would never do to a dolphin, since I love them dearly, and treat them with the same respect that an honest husband would have for his wife and children.
Dolphins are very intelligent, highly emotional and expressive creatures. They enjoy the company of humans, and if a relationship develops between a human and a dolphin, as has happened with me, they will, on occasion, wish to express their trust and affection for you in the most direct way; through mating, or sex-play. You see, dolphins do not use sex purely for procreative reasons. They use it as a way of strengthening the bonds between pod mates (mothers and calves included), and also for fun. Dolphins and humans share this common trait with very few other animals, so sometimes it makes me wonder when people continue to ask me "How DO you mate with a dolphin?". Easy. Let the dolphin tell you!
Well, here is a selection of questions people have asked me, so I hope this sheds some light on the subject...
Q1) How do I tell a male dolphin from a female one?
A1) Probably the most common question I get asked. There are 2 ways of determining the sex of a dolphin. The most obvious way is to take a peek under the peduncle (the long part of the body connected to the tail flukes). On the dolphin's belly, directly opposite the dorsal fin, will be the umbilicus, or the navel of the dolphin. Looking further down towards the tail, you start to see the differences.
Male dolphins have two separate slits for the penis (the urogenital opening) and the anus. These are separated by a bridge of skin. The male's urogenital opening is generally located further up the belly, towards the navel.
Females, on the other fin, have one continuous larger slit, the anus located at the end of it. On either side of the genital slit, you will find two smaller slits; these are the mammary slits, where the nipples of the dolphin are kept for feeding the calves. The slit is also located closer to the tail stock of the dolphin.
The other way to determine the sex of a dolphin, if you can't reach their belly, is to look at their mellon, or head. The males tend to have a fatter, rounder mellon, while the females are more sleek and streamlined.
Q2) How do I know if a dolphin wants to have sex?
A2) There are various ways a dolphin has of showing that she or he is interested in sex.
Males are probably the easiest to detect. They will swim around, sporting an erection (anywhere between 10 to 14 inches long for a Bottle-nose), and will have no bones about swimming up to you and placing their member within reach of your hand. If you are in the water, they may rub it along any part of your body, or wrap it around your wrist or ankle. (Dolphin males have a prehensile penis. They can wrap it around objects, and carry them as such.) Their belly will also be pinkish in colour, which also denotes sexual excitement.
Females can be a little harder. The most obvious way a female dolphin has of displaying her sexual interest is the pink-belly effect. Their genitals become very pink and swollen, making the genital region very prominent. They may be restless, or they may be acting as normal. If you are out of the water, they may swim up to you and roll belly up, exposing themselves to you, coupled with pelvic thrusts. If you are in the water, they may press their genitals up against yours, nibble your fingers, nuzzle your crotch, or do pelvic thrusts against you.
Each dolphins way of expressing sexual readiness varies, so the longer you know the dolphin, the better you will detect when they are sexually active.
Q3) What do I do if a dolphin wants to mate with me?
A3) Accept, if possible! I will go through the steps involved with males and females...
The Male:
When a male dolphin is interested in you, about the only thing you can do, if you are male, is to masturbate him. (Unfortunately, I cannot speak for the female of the human species... it seems women just don't like dolphins enough... so I cannot say for sure if it is safe to mate with them. I would suspect not, due to a dolphins size, but then again, I cannot say for a woman.)
WARNING! In the considerations of safety, you should NEVER let a male dolphin attempt anal sex with you. The Bottle-nose dolphin member is around 12 inches, very muscular, and the thrusting and the force of ejaculation (A male can come as far as 14 feet) would cause serious internal injuries, resulting in peritonitus and possible death. Unless you are the masochistic type, you will have a hard time explaining your predicament to the doctors in the emergency ward....
A male dolphin's member is roughly S-shaped, tapered at the end. If you are in the water with them, it is best to support the dolphin on his side, just under the water, with one hand, and handle him with the other. Male dolphins, I find, tend to prefer the base of the penis to be gently massaged and squeezed, as well as gently rubbed along it's length. It feels very much like the rest of the dolphin (ie. smooth and rubbery to the touch, but firmer). It doesn't take long for the male to ejaculate, around 40 seconds to a minute, and this is usually accompanied by either shuddering just prior to ejaculating, and thrusting and tail-arching during ejaculation. The force of ejaculation can be powerful at times, so it is best to keep your face out of the line of fire, or keep his member underwater. You can attempt to lick and suck on the end of it while masturbating as well, but be warned, do not try to give full throat, and get the hell out of the way before he ejaculates! A male dolphin could snap your neck in a accidental thrust, and that would be the end of that relationship.
The Female:
Well, the females are again a little trickier. There are two courses of action with a female fin: Masturbation, or mating.
Masturbation: Female dolphins, once they show interest in you, can be supported in much the same way as the male, one hand under the fin, supporting her, the other doing the stimulating. The clitoris of the female is located at the top of the genital slit, and is a prominent lump when erect. You can rub this with your finger tips, or lick and suck it, but with the oral aspect, you might end up with a bruised nose as they thrust up into you. You can slide your hand gently into their genital opening, and feel around inside, rubbing gently. They feel warm and muscular inside, their labia like tough, squishy sponge when they are excited. Don't be surprised if they start to play with your hand inside them. They have very manipulative muscles, and can use them to carry and manipulate objects, including your hand. (They can do things that would make a regular human woman turn green with envy.) Their climax is coupled with stiffening, shuddering, sometimes a lot of thrusting, clinching of the vaginal muscles, and sometimes vocalization.
Mating: This is harder. Obviously, being human, it is awkward, but not impossible to mate in open water. It is easier to have the dolphin in a shallow area (like the shallows just off the beach) around 1 1/2 to 2 feet deep. This is usually comfortable enough for both the dolphin and you. Gently, you should roll the dolphin on her side, so she is lying belly-towards you. You can prop yourself up on an elbow, and lie belly to belly against her. You may want to use the other arm to gently hold her close, and place the tip of your member against her genital slit. She will, if interested, arch her body up against you, taking you inside her body. There is usually a fair bit of wriggling and shifting, usually to get comfortable, both outside and inside. Once comfortable, though, females initiate a series of muscular vaginal contractions that rub the entire length of your member. They may also thrust rhythmically against you, so enjoy the experience while you can, since you will rarely last longer that a minute or two. Just prior to her climaxing, she will up the speed of her contractions and thrusts. It is interesting to note that the times I have mated with females, they have timed their orgasm to mine. Whether they do this consciously or not, I do not know, but it is a great feeling to have two bodies shuddering against each other at the one time.
One thing to note. Whether you masturbate or mate a fin, male or female, always spend time with them afterwards. Cuddle them, rub them, talk to them and most importantly, show them you love them. This is essential, as it helps to strengthen the bond between you. Like a way of saying that this wasn't just a one-night fling. The dolphins appreciate it, and they will want your company more the next time you visit them.
Q4) What diseases can I get from dolphins? Can I give them any?
A4) I have had no experiences with Sexually Transmitted Diseases (STD's) with dolphins, so I couldn't rightfully say. I do know, however, that you can pass the Flu between you, along with other respiratory problems. (I got a cold when a dolphin sneezed on me once. It cleared up after a week or so.) You can also pass some skin irritations on to them, if you handle them with chaffed or broken skin. Just like with a human, it is best to BE CLEAN when you handle a dolphin. If you have cuts on your hands, avoid touching them unless you wash with a Betadine surgical scrub prior to handling. This is available from most Veterinary and Surgical suppliers. If you have some disease of some sort, avoid mating, for the dolphins sake. This is a little known area, more so because Zoophilia is considered illegal in many places (which I think is a load of crud, but the law's the law....)
Q5) Is their any way I can invite a dolphin to be masturbated?
A5) Well, yes. If they are hanging around, but not looking particularly excited, but you are, you can invite them with this way...
Male and Female dolphins can be invited by rolling them on their sides, again, but instead of going straight to the genital slit, rub along their bellies, between their pectoral fins, along the navel, and every once in a while, over the genital slit. If they are responsive, they will show the signs of excitement as described earlier, and you can proceed as usual. If, however, they are not responsive, they will swim away, or turn back upright. DO NOT force the issue with a dolphin! Trying to restrain them will only break their trust in you, and could cause you serious injury. Pat them, stroke them and talk to them lovingly, but do not try anything else. It is best, anyway, to let the dolphin tell you when they are ready. It is far more pleasant, and more fulfilling anyway. And more special.
Q6) Where can I find a dolphin to mate with?
A6) Aquariums are a bad choice, for many reasons. Too public, the dolphins are not in their natural habitat, night visits are impossible, etc etc... some may have external enclosures, which may be accessible, but that is no guarantee. Best thing sometimes is to find a beach or a cove that the dolphins frequent. It takes time to develop a relationship with a dolphin to the point where they will let you mate with them (although some have been as quick as 3 days to acclimatize). Gaining their trust takes time, and you need to visit frequently. This is impossible for some people, I understand, but it is the best way. Sometimes you just need to be in the right place at the right time. I have been extremely lucky on two occasions with wild dolphins, and my current mate is a dolphin who lives in the harbor of my resident city.
Well, I hope this is of use to whoever is interested. One final note. You should love a dolphin, not because of the sexual relief they can provide, but because they are a unique animal, one of the few wild animals that seek the company of man by their own initiative. This is special. Do not abuse it.
Her body throbbed. She stopped the car in the driveway and shut everything off. A tiny whimper popped from her smeared lips and she sank into the seat for a moment. Her pussy pulsed inside her soggy panties. She squeezed her thighs together, thinking about the hard cock that rammed into her hungry hole only a few minutes before, pumping a gusher of hot come into her cunt. Finally swinging her high heels to the concrete, she locked the car and crossed to the stoop and paused.
Her fingers searched her purse for a moment and then extracted the translucent latex. Her long fingers weighed the milky contents in the yellow porch light. A tingle ran though her as she remembered his jerking cock filling the rubber with his first load of come. She made up a story about no pills and he had consented to use the rubber.
She shivered and hurriedly untied the knot in the tube and holding the top open, sniffed the pungent odor of come. For one final minute she looked at the thick, still warm liquid then she tipped the rubber and poured the love juice into her open mouth and rolled it slowly on her tongue. The tangy flavor permeated her palate and she held the still warm love juice captive in her mouth.
She unlocked the side door and stepped inside. Holding the strong flavored come in her mouth, she paused and listened. The soft sounds of the TV bobbed through the house. She crossed the kitchen and paused in the dinning room. He was sitting nude on the carpet, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. The VCR whirred softly. On the TV screen, a large cock plunged slowly onto a hairy pussy and slowly pulled out to the head. She could see his hand stroking at his lap as he gazed at the fucking on the screen.
Her high heel clicked on the narrow expanse of bare floor at the dinning room floor. His head swiveled and he smiled at her. His fingers were circling the head of his rigid cock, slowly massaging the head. For a moment she gazed at his swollen cock, the purple head appearing between his thumb and fingers then disappearing. Her slushy cunt pulsed and she almost swallowed the mouthful of come. She crossed the room and stopped next to him. He stared up at her expectantly.
"Did you bring me something?" he asked.
She nodded slowly and bent down. He tilted his head and their lips met. Parting her lips, she let the warm thick come slide from her mouth and into his open mouth. A low groan escaped his throat and his tongue probed her open mouth, scraping the dregs of the come from its hot wet corners. As she ground her lips against his, her nostrils flaring, her body began to heat up. Her hand found his jerking cock and pull his hand away and up under her skirt. Her knees bent and her thighs parted as she guided his strong finger up to the crotch of her panties and clamped her thighs around his hand. His fingers clawed at the soggy nylon.
Tearing her mouth from his, she gasped, her breath coming in raspy rushes. He gazed up at her, licking the traces of come from his lips. His fingers pulled the nylon band aside and slushed into the oozing hole it covered. He stirred her cunt, rolling her clit and driving his fingers deep inside her molten cunt. He pulled his dripping fingers from her crotch and out from under her skirt. Looking into her passion glazed eyes, he lifted his coated fingers to his mouth and licked the combination of come and cunt juice from them.
"You like the taste of come, don't you Daddy?" she rasped.
"And pussy juice."
"But you like come." Her eyes were slits and she pushed her own hand up her skirt and dug into her drooling pussy with her fingers. "You like sucking come first hand out of a cock!"
He looked at the lust distorted face of his oldest daughter and smiled. She was very much like her mother. Hot pants! He could see her slender fingers plunging into the gaping opening of her cunt as she coaxed him and teased him.
"Yeessss!" he hissed. His hand had found his throbbing cock once again and stroked it as he gazed at his daughters distorted face.
"You'd suck off your own son if you had one. It would turn you on if this was a cock instead of a cunt, wouldn't it!"
He nodded. He dropped back on his elbow, almost lying down and watched her as she finger fucked her self and worked them both into a impassioned frenzy.
"But you like to suck pussy just as much as you'd like to suck a cock." Her voice was a bare whisper.
She fixed her eyes on his eyes and licked her lips. Pausing, she unzipped her skirt and dropped it to the carpet. She rolled her panties down almost to her knees and spreading her white thighs, opened the lips of her pussy with the fingers of one hand and rolled the swollen knob of her clit with the fingers of her other hand.
"Watch me, Daddy! Watch me jerk my pussy off!" She whined. His hand stroked the swollen head of his pulsing cock in rhythm with her fingers.
"You'd like to suck my slimy pussy, wouldn't you?" She waited, her fingers pausing between the fleshy lips of her cunt.
"You want to suck the come out of my cunt, don't you!" she demanded.
Unable to vocalize, he nodded emphatically.
"His cock was big and so hot, Daddy. I fucked him first, catching his come in a rubber. That's what I had in my mouth," she revealed. He moaned and jerked.
"Then I sucked him off. His cock jerked and spurted for a long time and I swallowed every drop! I love to suck cock, too!"
Her body was arched above him, her fingers tearing at the soggy hole between her legs. She whimpered and jerked.
"Ooooh! Oh! its coming!" She shuddered and jerked, waves of pleasure engulfing her.
"Its.....soooooo.....good, Daddy!"
His hand flew over his cock. His ass bounced on the floor. He forced his eyes to stay open so he could watch the girls climax. Suddenly,the dam broke.
"Baby!... Oh!... Daddy's coming!" he wailed.
Still shivering from coming, she forced her fingers from her pussy and dropped to her knees. His hand had frozen on the shaft of his cock and she could see the purple head of it swell and spread as the hot river of come flowed up the column of hot flesh. Her head dipped quickly and her small mouth opened, wide.
He jerked and groaned as through the fog he felt her hot mouth close over the head of his bursting cock. His fingers tangled in her hair and he held her head in position.
"Suck, Baby! Suck Daddy's cock!" he wailed. "Suck all my come out of it! Does it taste good with Mom's cunt juice still on it?"
The girl whimpered and sucked faster. She identified the strong second taste on his cock. Her tongue rolled the head, her fingers cupping his balls, rolling them in the soft skin sack.
"Uuuhhhhhhh!" He slammed his cock deep into her throat and pumped glob after glob of hot thick come into her suctioning mouth.
After long seconds the last stream flooded her swallowing throat. She pampered his cock with her mouth and then rolled aside, her fingers still circling the softening shaft.
Curled together, their naked bodies damp with the the afterglow of passion, he stirred and stroked her hard nipple.
"Can we take this too far?" he asked.
"Nooo. This is just our play time," she soothed.
"How old was this guy, tonight?"
"He said twenty-two but he wasn't a day over nineteen," she replied. "He got off so quick, I almost didn't get the rubber on to catch it." She laughed softly.
"Its a good thing we don't have a daughter. If she were as hot as you, I'd have to fight to stay away from her."
She smiled at him. Her slender fingers scraped the underside of his half hard cock.
"I'm all you can handle any way," she cooed.
"I know," he responded. "Next Saturday you're the mother and I'm the son who discovers her naked?"
"Ummmm Hmmmmm!"
Her mouth clamped his and her hot tongue stabbed into his mouth.
Slashdot Mirror
Excellent post sir!
One stroke at a time sweet Jesus
One stroke at a time sweet Lord...
You are a nigger.
I should put you in chains and make you clean my house.
Satan, as a god, demi-god, personal saviour, or whatever you wish to call him,
was invented by the formulators of every religion on the face of the earth for
only one purpose - to preside over man's so-called wicked activities and
situations here on earth. Consequently, anything resulting in physical or mental
gratification was defined as "evil" - thus assuring a lifetime of unwarrented
guilt for everyone!
So, if "evil" they have named us, evil we are - and so what! The Satanic Age is
upon us! Why not take advantage of it and LIVE!* LOVE AND HATE SATANISM
represents kindness to those who deserve it instead of love wasted on ingrates!
You cannot love everyone; it is ridiculous to think you can. If you love
everyone and everything you lose your natural powers of selection and wind up
being a pretty poor judge of character and quality. If anything is used too
freely it loses its true meaning. Therefore, the Satanist believes you should
love strongly and completely those who deserve your love, but never turn the
other cheek to your enemy!
Love is one of the most intense emotions felt by man; another is hate. Forcing
yourself to feel indiscriminate love is very unnatural. If you try to love
everyone you only lessen your feelings for those who deserve your love.
Repressed hatred can lead to many physical and emotional ailments. By learning
to release your hatred towards those who deserve it, you cleanse yourself of
these malignant emotions and need not take your pent-up hatred out on your loved
ones.
There has never been a great "love" movement in the history of the world that
hasn't wound up killing countless numbers of people, we must assume, to prove
how much they loved them! Every hypocrite who ever walked the earth has had
pockets buldging with love!
Every pharisaical religionist claims to love his enemies, even though when
wronged he consoles himself by thinking "God will punish them". Instead of
admitting to themselves that they are capable of hating their foes and treating
them in the manner they deserve, they say: "There, but for the grace of God, go
I," and "pray" for them. Why should we humiliate and lower ourselves by drawing
such inaccurate comparisons?
Satanism has been thought of as being synonymous with cruelty and brutality.
This is so only because people are afraid to face the truth - and the truth is
that human beings are not all benign or all loving. Just because the Satanist
admits he is capable of both love and hate, he is considered hateful. On the
contrary, because he is able to give vent to his hatred through ritualized
expression, he is far more capable of love - the deepest kind of love. By
honestly recognizing and admitting to both the hate and the love he feels, there
is no confusing one emotion with the other. Without being able to experience one
of these emotions, you cannot fully experience the other.
SATANIC SEX MUCH controversy has arisen over the Satanic views on "free
love". It is often assumed that sexual activity is the most important factor of
the Satanic religion, and that willingness to participate in sex-orgies is a
prerequisite for becoming a Satanist. Nothing could be farther from the truth!
In fact, opportunists who have no deeper interest in Satanism than merely the
sexual aspects are emphatically discouraged.
Satanism does advocate sexual freedom, but only in the true sense of the word.
Free love, in the Satanic concept, means exactly that - freedom to either be
faithful to one person or to indulge your sexual desires with as many others as
you feel is necessary to satisfy your particular needs.
Satanism does not encourage orgiastic activity or extramarital affairs for those
to whom they do not come naturally. For many, it would be very unnatural and
detrimental to be unfaithful to their chosen mates. To others, it would be
frustrating to be bound sexually to just one person. Each person must decide for
himself what form of sexual activity best suits his individual needs.
Self-deceitfully forcing yourself to be adulterous or to have sex partners when
not married just for the sake of proving others (or worse yet, to yourself) that
you are emancipated from sexual guilt is just as wrong, by Satanic standards, as
leaving any sexual need unfulfilled because of ingrained feelings of guilt.
Many of those who are constantly preoccupied with demonstrating their
emancipation from sexual guilt are, in reality, held in even greater sexual
bondage than those who simply accept sexual activity as a natural part of life
and don't make a big to-do over their sexual freedom. For example, it is an
established fact that the nymphomaniac (every man's dream girl and heroine of
all lurid novels) is not sexually free, but is actually frigid and roves from
man to man because she is too inhibited to ever find complete sexual release.
Another misconception is the idea that ability to engage in group sexual
activity is the indicative of sexual freedom. All contemporary free-sex groups
have one thing in common - discouragement of fetishistic or deviant activity.
Actually, the most forced examples of non-fetishistic sexual activity thinly
disguised as "freedom" have a common format. Each of the participants in an orgy
removes all clothing, following the example set forth by one, and mechanically
fornicate - also following the leader's example. None of the performers consider
that their "emancipated" form of sex might be regarded as regimented and
infantile by non-members who fail to equate uniformity with freedom.
The Satanist realizes that if he is to be a sexual connoiseur (and truly free
from all sexual guilt) he cannot be stifled by the so-called sexual
revolutionists any more than he can by the prudery of his guilt-ridden society.
These free-sex clubs miss the whole point of sexual freedom. Unless sexual
activity can be expressed on an individual basis (which includes personal
fetishes), there is absolutely no purpose in belonging to a sexual freedom
organization.
Satanism condones any type of sexual activity which properly satisfies your
individual desires - be it heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, or even asexual,
if you choose. Satanism also sanctions any fetish or deviation which will
enhance your sex-life, so long as it involves no one who does not wish to be
involved.
The prevalence of deviant and/or fetishistic behavior in our society would
stagger the imagination of the sexually naïve. There are more sexual variants
than the unenlightened individual can perceive: transvestism, sadism, masochism,
urolagnia, exhibitionism - to name only a few of the more predominant. Everyone
has some form of fetish, but because they are unaware of the preponderance of
fetishistic activity in our society, they feel they are depraved if they submit
to their "unnatural" yearnings.*
Even the asexual has a deviation - his asexuality. It is far more abnormal to
have a lack of sexual desire (unless illness or old-age, or another valid reason
has caused the wane) than it is to be sexually promiscuous. However, if a
Satanist chooses sexual sublimination above overt sexual expression, that is
entirely his own affair. In many cases of sexual sublimination (or asexuality),
any attempt to emancipate himself sexually would prove devastating to the
asexual.
Asexuals are invariably sexually sublimated by their jobs or hobbies. All the
energy and driving interest which would normally be devoted to sexual activity
is channelled into other pastimes or into their chosen occupations. If a person
favors other interests over sexual activity, it is his right, and no one is
justified in condemning him for it. However, the person should at least
recognize the fact that this is a sexual sublimation.
Because of lack of opportunity for expression, many secret sexual desires never
progress beyond the fantasy stage. Lack of release often leads to compulsion
and, therefore, a great number of people devise undetectable methods of giving
vent to their urges. Just because most fetishistic activity is not outwardly
apparent, the sexually unsophisticated should not delude himself into thinking
it does not exist. To cite examples of the ingenious techniques used: The male
transvestite will indulge in his fetish by wearing feminine undergarments while
going about his daily activities; or the masochistic woman might wear a rubber
girdle several sizes too small, so she may derive sexual pleasure from her
fetishistic discomfort throughout the day, with no one the wiser. These
illustrations are far tamer and more prevalent examples than others which could
have been given.
Satanism encourages any form of sexual expression you may desire, so long as it
hurts no one else. This statement must be qualified, to avoid misinterpretation.
By not hurting another, this does not include the unintentional hurt felt by
those who might not agree with your views on sex, because of their anxieties
regarding sexual morality. Naturally, you should avoid offending others who mean
a great deal to you, such as prudish friends and relatives. However, if you
earnestly endeavor to escape hurting them, and despite your efforts they
accidentally find out, you cannot be held responsible, and therefore should feel
no guilt as a result of either your sexual convictions, or their being hurt
because of those convictions. If you are in constant fear of offending the
prudish by your attitude towards sex, then there is no sense in trying to
emancipate yourself from sexual guilt. However, no purpose is served by
flaunting your permissiveness.
The other exception to the rule regards dealings with masochists. A masochist
derives pleasure from being hurt; so denying the masochist his
pleasure-through-pain hurts him just as much as actual physical pain hurts the
non-masochist. The story of the truly cruel sadist illustrates this point: The
masochist says to the sadist, "beat me." To which the merciless sadist replies,
"NO!" If a person wants to be hurt and enjoys suffering, then there is no reason
not to indulge him in his wont.
The term "sadist" in popular usage describes one who obtains pleasure from
indiscriminate brutality. Actually, though, a true sadist is selective. He
carefully chooses from the vast reserve of appropriate victims, and takes great
delight in giving those who thrive on misery the fulfillment of their desires.
The "well-adjusted" sadist is epicurean in selecting those on whom his energies
will be well-spent! If a person is healthy enough to admit he is a masochist and
enjoys being enslaved and whipped, the real sadist is glad to oblige!
Aside from the foregoing exceptions, the Satanist would not intentionally hurt
others by violating their sexual rights. If you attempt to impose your sexual
desires upon others who do not welcome your advances, you are infringing upon
their sexual freedom. Therefore, Satanism does not advocate rape, child
molesting, sexual defilement of animals, or any other form of sexual activity
which entails the participation of those who are unwilling or whose innocence or
naïveté would allow them to be intimidated or misguided into doing something
against their wishes.
If all parties involved are mature adults who willingly take full responsibility
for their actions and voluntarily engage in a given form of sexual expression -
even if it is generally considered taboo - then there is no reason for them to
repress their sexual inclinations.
If you are aware of all the implications, advantages, and disadvantages, and are
certain your actions will hurt no one who does not wish or deserve to be hurt,
you have no cause to suppress your sexual preferences.
Just as no two people are exactly the same in their choice of diet or have the
same capacity for the consumption of food, sexual tastes and appetites vary from
person to person. No person or society has the right to set limitations on the
sexual standards or the frequency of sexual activity of another. Proper sexual
conduct can only be judged within the context of each individual situation.
Therefore, what one person considers sexually correct and moral may be
frustrating to another. The reverse is also true; one person may have great
sexual prowess, but it is unjust for him to belittle another whose sexual
capacity may not equal his own, and inconsiderate for him to impose himself upon
the other person, i.e., the man who has a voracious sexual appetite, but whose
wife's sexual needs do not match his own. It is unfair for him to expect her to
enthusiastically respond to his overtures; but she must display the same degree
of thoughtfulness. In the instances when she does not feel great passion, she
should either passively, but pleasantly, accept him sexually, or raise no
complaint if he chooses to find his needed release elsewhere - including
auto-erotic practices.
The ideal relationship is one in which the people are deeply in love with one
another and are sexually compatible. However, perfect relationships are
relatively uncommon. It is important to point out here that spiritual love and
sexual love can, but do not necessarily, go hand in hand. If there is a certain
amount of sexual compatibility, often it is limited; and some, but not all, of
the sexual desires will be fulfilled.
There is no greater sexual pleasure than that derived from association with
someone you deeply love, if you are sexually well-suited. If you are not suited
to one another sexually, though, it must be stressed that lack of sexual
compatibility does not indicate lack of spiritual love. One can, and often does,
exist without the other. As a matter of fact, often one member of a couple will
resort to outside sexual activity because he deeply loves his mate, and wishes
to avoid hurting or imposing upon his loved one. Deep spiritual love is enriched
by sexual love, and it is certainly a necessary ingredient for any satisfactory
relationship; but because of differing sexual predilictions, outside sexual
activity or masturbation sometimes provides a needed supplement.
Masturbation, considered a sexual taboo by many people, creates a guilt problem
not easily dealt with. Much emphasis must be placed on this subject, as it
constitutes an extremely important ingredient of many a successful magical
working.
Ever since the Judaeo-Christian Bible described the sin of Onan (Gen. 38:7-10),
man has considered the seriousness and consequences of the "solitary vice". Even
though modern sexologists have explained the sin of Onan as simply coitus
interruptus, the damage has been done through centuries of theological
misinterpretation.
Aside from actual sex crimes, masturbation is one of the most frowned upon
sexual acts. During the last century, innumerable texts were written describing
the horrific consequences of masturbation. Practically all physical or mental
illnesses were attributed to the evils of masturbation. Pallor of the
complexion, shortness of breath, furtive expression, sunken chest, nervousness,
pimples and loss of appetite are only a few of the many characteristics
supposedly resulting from masturbation; total physical and mental collapse was
assured if one did not heed the warnings in those handbooks for young men.
The lurid descriptions in such texts would be almost humorous, were it not for
the unhappy fact that even though contemporary sexologists, doctors, writers,
etc. have done much to remove the stigma of masturbation, the deep-seated guilts
induced by the nonsense in those sexual primers have been only partially erased.
A large percentage of people, especially those over forty, cannot emotionally
accept the fact that masturbation is natural and healthy, even if they now
accept it intellectually; and they, in turn, relate their repugnance, often
subconsciously, to their children.
It was thought that one would go insane if, despite numerous admonitions, his
auto-erotic practices persisted. This preposterous myth grew from reports of
wide-spread masturbation by the inmates of mental institutions. It was assumed
that since almost all incurably insane people masturbated, it was their
masturbation that had driven them mad. No one ever stopped to consider the lack
of sexual partners of the opposite sex and the freedom from inhibition, which is
a characteristic of extreme insanity, were the real reasons for the masturbatory
practices of the insane.
Many people would rather have their mates seek outside sexual activity than
perform auto-erotic acts because of their own guilt feelings, the mate's
repugnance towards having them engage in masturbation, or the fear of their
mate's repugnance - although in a surprising number of cases, a vicarious thrill
is obtained from the knowledge that the mate is having sexual experiences with
outsiders - although this is seldom admitted.
If stimulation is provided by envisioning one's mate sexually engaged with
others, this should be brought out into the open where both parties may gain
from such activities. However, if the prohibition of masturbation is only due to
guilt feelings on the part of one or both parties, they should make every
attempt to erase those guilts - or utilize them. Many relationships might be
saved from destruction if the people involved did not feel guilt about
performing the natural act of masturbation.
Masturbation is regarded as evil because it produces pleasure derived from
intentionally fondling a "forbidden" area of the body by one's own hand. The
guilt feelings accompanying most sexual acts can be assuaged by the
religiously-acceptable contention that your sensual delights are necessary to
produce off-spring - even though you cautiously watch the calendar for the
"safe" days. You cannot, however, placate yourself with this rationale while
engaging in masturbatory practices.
No matter what you've been told about the "immaculate conception" - even if
blind faith allows you to swallow this absurdity - you know full well if you are
to produce a child, there must be sexual contact with a person of the opposite
sex! If you feel guilty for committing the "original sin," you certainly will
feel even deeper guilt for performing a sex act only for self-gratification,
with no intention of creating children.
The Satanist fully realizes why religionists declare masturbation to be sinful.
Like all other natural acts people will do it, no matter how severely
reprimanded. Causing guilt is an important facet of their malicious scheme to
obligate people to atone for "sins" by paying the mortgages on temples of
abstinence!
Even if a person is no longer struggling under the burden of religiously-induced
guilt (or thinks he isn't), modern man still feels shame if he yields to his
masturbatory desires. A man may feel robbed of his masculinity if he satisfies
himself auto-erotically rather than engaging in the competitive game of woman
chasing. A woman may satisfy herself sexually but yearns for the
ego-gratification that comes from the sport of seduction. Neither the quasi
Casanova nor bogus vamp feels adequate when "reduced" to masturbation for sexual
gratification; both would prefer even an inadequate partner. Satanically
speaking, though, it is far better to engage in a perfect fantasy than to
cooperate in an unrewarding experience with another person. With masturbation,
you are in complete control of the situation.
for Jesus.
He is gay. Dont let the christians tell you different, he is.
got anymore?
Many churches with some of the largest congregations have the most
hand-clapping, sensual music - also Satanically inspired. After all, the Devil
has always had the best tunes.
Church picnics, despite all of Aunt Martha's talk about the Lord's Bountiful
Harvest, are nothing more than a good excuse for Sunday gluttony; and everyone
knows that lots more than Bible reading goes on in the bushes.
The fund-raising adjunct to many church bazaars is commonly known as a carnival,
which used to mean the celebration of the flesh; now a carnival is okay because
the money goes to the church so that it can preach against the temptations of
the Devil! It will be said that these things are only pagan devices and
ceremonies - that the Christians borrowed them. True, but the Pagans revelled in
the delights of the flesh, and were condemned by the very same people who
celebrate their rituals, but call them by different names.
Priests and ministers are in the front lines of peace demonstrations, and lying
on railroad tracks in front of trains carrying war materials, with as much
dedication as their brothers of the cloth, from the same seminaries, who are
blessing the bullets and bombs and fighting men as chaplains in the armed
forces. Someone must be wrong, someplace. Could it be that Satan is the one
qualified to act as accuser? Certainly they named him that!
When a puppy reaches maturity it becomes a dog; when ice melts it is called
water; when twelve months have been used up, we get a new calendar with the
proper chronological name; when "magic" becomes scientific fact we refer to it
as medicine, astronomy, etc. When one name is no longer appropriate for a given
thing it is only logical to change it to a new one which better fits the
subject. Why, then, do we not follow suit in the area of religion? Why continue
to call a religion the same name when the tenets of that religion no longer fit
the original one? Or, if religion does preach the same things that it always
has, but its followers practice nearly none of its teachings, why do they
continue to call themselves by the name given to followers of that religion?
If you do not believe in what your religion teaches, why continue to support a
belief which is contradictory with your feelings. You would never vote for a
person or issue you did not believe in, so why cast your ecclesiastical vote for
a religion which is not consistent with your convictions? You have no right to
complain about a political situation you have voted for or supported in any way
- which includes sitting back and complacently agreeing with neighbors who
approve the situation, just because you are too lazy or cowardly to speak your
mind. So it is with religious balloting. Even if you cannot be aggressively
honest about your opinions because of unfavorable consequences from employers,
community leaders, etc., you can, at least, be honest with yourself. In the
privacy of your own home and with close friends you must support religion which
has YOUR best interests at heart.
"Satanism is based on a very sound philosophy," say the emancipated. "But why
call it Satanism? Why not call it something like 'Humanism' or a name that would
have the connotation of a witchcraft group, something a little more esoteric -
something less blatant." There is more than one reason for this. Humanism is not
a religion. It is simply a way of life with no ceremony or dogma. Satanism has
both ceremony and dogma. Dogma, as will be explained, is necessary.
Satanism differs greatly from all other so-called white-light, "white"
witchcraft or magical groups in the world today. These self-righteous and
supercilious religions protest that their members use the powers of magic only
for altruistic purposes. Satanists look with disdain upon "white" witchcraft
groups because they feel that altruism is sinning on the lay-away plan. It is
unnatural not to have desire to gain things for yourself. Satanism represents a
form of controlled selfishness. This does not mean that you never do anything
for anyone else. If you do something to make someone for whom you care happy,
his happiness will give you a sense of gratification.
Satanism advocates practicing a modified form of the Golden Rule. Our
interpretation of this rule is: "Do unto others as they do unto you"; because if
you "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you," and they, in turn,
treat you badly, it goes against human nature to continue to treat them with
consideration. You should do unto others as you would have them do unto you, but
if your courtesy is not returned, they should be treated with the wrath they
deserve.
White witchcraft groups say that if you curse a person, it will return to you
three-fold, come home to roost, or in some way boomerang back to the sender.
This is yet another indication of the guilt-ridden philosophy which is held by
these neo-Pagan, pseudo-Christian groups. White witches want to delve into
witchcraft, but cannot divorce themselves from the stigma attached to it.
Therefore, they call themselves white magicians, and base seventy-five per cent
of their philosophy on the trite and hackneyed tenets of Christianity. Anyone
who pretends to be interested in magic or the occult for reasons other that
gaining personal power is the worst kind of hypocrite. The Satanist respects
Christianity for, at least, being consistent in its guilt-ridden philosophy, but
can only feel contempt for the people who attempt to appear emancipated from
guilt by joining a witchcraft group, and then practice the same basic philosophy
as Christianity.
White magic is supposedly utilized only for good or unselfish purposes, and
black magic, we are told, is used only for selfish or "evil" reasons. Satanism
draws no such dividing line. Magic is magic, be it used to help or hinder. The
Satanist, being the magician, should have the ability to decide what is just,
and then apply the powers of magic to attain his goals.
During white magical ceremonies, the practitioners stand within a pentagram to
protect themselves from the "evil" forces which they call upon for help. To the
Satanist, it seems a bit two-faced to call on these forces for help, while at
the same time protecting yourself from the very powers you have asked for
assistance. The Satanist realizes that only by putting himself in league with
these forces can be fully and unhypocritically utilize the Powers of Darkness to
his best advantage.
In a Satanic magical ceremony, the participants do NOT: join hands and dance
"ring around the rosy" in a circle; burn candles of various colors for various
wishes; call out the names of "Father, Son and Holy Ghost" while supposedly
practicing Black Arts; pick a "Saint" for their personal guide in obtaining help
for their problems; dunk themselves in smelly oils and hope the money comes in;
meditate so they can arrive at a "great spiritual awakening"; recite long
incantations with the name of Jesus thrown in for good measure, between every
few words, etc., etc., etc., ad nauseam!
BECAUSE - This is NOT the way to practice Satanic magic. If you cannot divorce
yourself from hypocritical self-deceit, you will never be successful as a
magician, much less a Satanist.
The Satanic religion has not merely lifted the coin - it has flipped it
completely over. Therefore, why should it support the very principles to which
it is completely opposed by calling itself anything other than a name which is
totally in keeping with the reversed doctrines which make up the Satanic
philosophy? Satanism is not a white light religion; it is a religion of the
flesh, the mundane, the carnal - all of which are ruled by Satan, the
personification of the Left Hand Path.
Inevitably, the next question asked is: "Granted, you can't call it humanism
because humanism is not a religion; but why even have a religion in the first
place if all you do is what comes naturally, anyway? Why not just do it?"
Modern man has come a long way; he has become disenchanted with the nonsensical
dogmas of past religions. We are living in an enlightened age. Psychiatry has
made great strides in enlightening man about his true personality. We are living
in an era of intellectual awareness unlike any the world has ever seen.
This is all very well and good, BUT - there is one flaw in this new state of
awareness. It is one thing to accept something intellectually, but to accept the
same thing emotionally is an entirely different matter. The one need that
psychiatry cannot fill is man's inherent need for emotionalizing through dogma.
Man needs ceremony and ritual, fantasy and enchantment. Psychiatry, despite all
the good it has done, has robbed man of wonder and fantasy which religion, in
the past, has provided.
Satanism, realizing the current needs of man, fills the large grey void between
religion and psychiatry. The Satanic philosophy combines the fundamentals of
psychology and good, honest emotionalizing, or dogma. It provides man with his
much needed fantasy. There is nothing wrong with dogma, providing it is not
based on ideas and actions which go completely against human nature.
The quickest way of traveling between two points is in a straight line. If all
the guilts that have been built up can be turned into advantages, it eliminates
the need for intellectual purging of the psyche in an attempt to cleanse it from
these repressions. Satanism is the only religion known to man that accepts man
as he is, and promotes the rationale of turning a bad thing into a good thing
rather than bending over backwards to eliminate the bad thing.
Therefore, after intellectually evaluating your problems through common sense
and drawing on what psychiatry has taught us, if you still cannot emotionally
release yourself from unwarranted guilt, and put your theories into action, then
you should learn to make your guilt work for you. You should act upon your
natural instincts, and then, if you cannot perform without feeling guilty, revel
in your guilt. This may sound like a contradiction in terms, but if you will
think about it, guilt can often add a fillip to the senses. Adults would do well
to take a lesson from children. Children often take great delight in doing
something they know they are not supposed to.
Yes, times have changed, but man hasn't. The basics of Satanism have always
existed. The only thing that is new is the formal organization of a religion
based on the universal traits of man. For centuries, magnificent structures of
stone, concrete, mortar, and steel have been devoted to man's abstinence. It is
high time that human beings stopped fighting themselves, and devoted their time
to building temples designed for man's indulgences.
Even though times have changed, and always will, man remains basically the same.
For two thousand years man has done penance for something he never should have
had to feel guilty about in the first place. We are tired of denying ourselves
the pleasures of life which we deserve. Today, as always, man needs to enjoy
himself here and now, instead of waiting for his rewards in heaven. So, why not
have a religion based on indulgence? Certainly, it is consistent with the nature
of the beast. We are no longer supplicating weaklings trembling before an
unmerciful "God" who cares not whether we live or die. We are self-respecting,
prideful people - we are Satanists! HELL, THE DEVIL, AND HOW TO SELL YOUR SOUL
SATAN has certainly been the best friend the church has ever had, as he has kept
it in business all these years. The false doctrine of Hell and the Devil has
allowed the Protestant and Catholic Churches to flourish far too long. Without a
devil to point their fingers at, religionists of the right hand path would have
nothing with which to threaten their followers. "Satan leads you to temptation";
"Satan is the prince of evil"; "Satan is vicious, cruel, brutal," they warn. "If
you give in to the temptations of the devil, you will surely suffer eternal
damnation and roast in Hell."
The semantic meaning of Satan is the "adversary" or "opposition" or the
"accuser". The very word "devil" comes from the Indian devi which means "god".
Satan represents opposition to all religions which serve to frustrate and
condemn man for his natural instincts. He has been given an evil role simply
because he represents the carnal, earthly, and mundane aspects of life.
Satan, the chief devil of the Western World, was originally an angel whose duty
was to report human delinquencies to God. It was not until the Fourteenth
Century that he began to be depicted as an evil deity who was part man and part
animal, with goat-like horns and hooves. Before Christianity gave him the names
of Satan, Lucifer, etc., the carnal side of man's nature was governed by the god
which was then called Dionysus, or Pan, depicted as a satyr or faun, by the
Greeks. Pan was originally the "good guy", and symbolized fertility and
fecundity.
Whenever a nation comes under a new form of government, the heroes of the past
become villains of the present. So it is with religion. The earliest Christians
believed that the Pagan deities were devils, and to employ them was to use
"black magic". Miraculous heavenly events they termed "white magic"; this was
the sole distinction between the two. The old gods did not die, they fell into
Hell and became devils. The bogey, goblin, or bugaboo used to frighten children
is derived from the Slavonic "Bog" which means "god", as does Bhaga in Hindu.
Many pleasures revered before the advent of Christianity were condemned by the
new religion. It required little changeover to transform the horns and cloven
hooves of Pan into a most convincing devil! Pan's attributes could be neatly
changed into charged-with-punishment sins, and so the metamorphosis was
complete.
The association of the goat with the Devil is found in the Christian Bible,
where the holiest day of the year, the Day of Atonement, was celebrated by
casting lots for two goats "without blemish", one to be offered to the Lord, and
one to Azazel. The goat carrying the sins of the people was driven into the
desert and became a "scapegoat". This is the origin of the goat which is still
used in lodge ceremonies today as it was also used in Egypt, where once a year
it was sacrificed to a God.
The devils of mankind are many, and their origins diversified. The performance
of Satanic ritual does not embrace the calling forth of demons; this practice is
followed only by those who are in fear of the very forces they conjure.
Supposedly, demons are malevolent spirits with attributes conductive to the
deterioration of the people or events that they touch upon. The Greek word demon
meant a guardian spirit or source of inspiration, and to be sure, later
theologians invented legion upon legion of these harbingers of inspiration - all
wicked.
An indication of the cowardice of "magicians" of the right-hand path is the
practice of calling upon a particular demon (who would supposedly be a minion of
the devil) to do his bidding. The assumption is that the demon, being only a
flunky of the devil, is easier to control. Occult lore states that only the most
formidably "protected" or insanely foolhardy sorcerer would try to call forth
the Devil himself.
The Satanist does not furtively call upon these "lesser" devils, but brazenly
invokes those who people that infernal army of long-standing outrage - the
Devils themselves!
Theologians have catalogued some of the names of devils in their lists of
demons, as might be expected, but the roster which follows contains the names
and origins of the Gods and Goddesses called upon, which make up a large part of
the occupancy of the Royal Palace of Hell:
THE FOUR CROWN PRINCES OF HELL
SATAN - (Hebrew) adversary, opposite, accuser, Lord of fire, the inferno, the
south LUCIFER - (Roman) bringer of light, enlightenment, the air, the morning
star, the east BELIAL - (Hebrew) without a master, baseness of the earth,
independence, the north LEVIATHAN - (Hebrew) the serpent out of the deeps, the
sea, the west
THE INFERNAL NAMES
Abaddon - (Hebrew) the destroyer Adramelech - Samarian devil Ahpuch - Mayan
devil Ahriman - Mazdean devil Amon - Egyptian ram-headed god of life and
reproduction Apollyon - Greek synonym for Satan, the arch fiend Asmodeus -
Hebrew devil of sensuality and luxury, originally "creature of judgement"
Astaroth - Phoenician goddess of lasciviousness, equivalent of Babylonian Ishtar
Azazel - (Hebrew) taught man to make weapons of war, introduced cosmetics
Baalberith - Canaanite Lord of the covenant who was later made a devil Balaam -
Hebrew Devil of avarice and greed Baphomet - worshipped by the Templars as
symbolic of Satan Bast - Egyptian goddess of pleasure represented by the cat
Beelzebub - (Hebrew) Lord of the Flies, taken from symbolism of the scarab
Behemoth - Hebrew personification of Satan in the form of an elephant Beherit -
Syriac name for Satan Bilé - Celtic god of Hell Chemosh - national god of
Moabites, later a devil Cimeries - rides a black horse and rules Africa Coyote -
American Indian devil Dagon - Philistine avenging devil of the sea Damballa -
Voodoo serpent god Demogorgon - Greek name of the devil, it is said should not
be known to mortals Diabolus - (Greek) "flowing downwards" Dracula - Romanian
name for devil Emma-O - Japanese ruler of Hell Euronymous - Greek prince of
death Fenriz - son of Loki, depicted as a wolf Gorgo - dim. of Demogorgon, Greek
name of the devil Haborym - Hebrew synonym for Satan Hecate - Greek goddess of
the underworld and witchcraft Ishtar - Babylonian goddess of fertility Kali -
(Hindu) daughter of Shiva, high priestess of the Thuggees Lilith - Hebrew female
devil, Adam's first wife who taught him the ropes Loki - Teutonic devil Mammon -
Aramaic god of wealth and profit Mania - Etruscan goddess of Hell Mantus -
Etruscan god of Hell Marduk - god of the city of Babylon Mastema - Hebrew
synonym for Satan Melek Taus - Yezidi devil Mephistopheles - (Greek) he who
shuns the light, q. v. Faust Metztli - Aztec goddess of the night Mictian -
Aztec god of death Midgard - son of Loki, depicted as a serpent Milcom -
Ammonite devil Moloch - Phoenician and Canaanite devil Mormo - (Greek) King of
the Ghouls, consort of Hecate Naamah - Hebrew female devil of seduction Nergal -
Babylonian god of Hades Nihasa - American Indian devil Nija - Polish god of the
underworld O-Yama - Japanese name for Satan Pan - Greek god of lust, later
relegated to devildom Pluto - Greek god of the underworld Proserpine - Greek
queen of the underworld Pwcca - Welsh name for Satan Rimmon - Syrian devil
worshipped at Damascus Sabazios - Phrygian origin, identified with Dionysos,
snake worship Saitan - Enochian equivalent of Satan Sammael - (Hebrew) "venom of
God" Samnu - Central Asian devil Sedit - American Indian devil Sekhmet -
Egyptian goddess of vengeance Set - Egyptian devil Shaitan - Arabic name for
Satan Shiva - (Hindu) the destroyer Supay - Inca god of the underworld T'an-mo -
Chinese counterpart to the devil, covetousness, desire Tchort - Russian name for
Satan, "black god" Tezcatlipoca - Aztec god of Hell Thamuz - Sumerian god who
later was relegated to devildom Thoth - Egyptian god of magic Tunrida -
Scandanavian female devil Typhon - Greek personification of Satan Yaotzin -
Aztec god of Hell Yen-lo-Wang - Chinese ruler of Hell The devils of past
religions have always, at least in part, had animal characteristics, evidence of
man's constant need to deny that he too is an animal, for to do so would serve a
mighty blow to his impoverished ego.
The pig was despised by the Jews and the Egyptians. It symbolized the gods Frey,
Osiris, Adonis, Persephone, Attis, and Demeter, and was sacrificed to Osiris and
the Moon. But, in time, it became degraded into a devil. The Phoenicians
worhipped a fly god, Baal, from which comes the devil, Beelzebub. Both Baal and
Beelzebub are identical to the dung beetle or scarabaeus of the Egyptians which
appeared to resurrect itself, much as the mythical bird, the phoenix, rose from
its own ashes. The ancient Jews believed, through their contact with the
Persians, that the two great forces in the world were Ahura-Mazda, the god of
fire, light, life, and goodness; and Ahriman, the serpent, the god of darkness,
destruction, death, and evil. These, and countless other examples, not only
depict man's devils as animals, but also show his need to sacrifice the original
animal gods and demote them to his devils.
At the time of the Reformation, in the Sixteenth Century, the alchemist, Dr.
Johann Faustus, discovered a method of summoning a demon - Mephistopheles - from
Hell and making a pact with him. He signed a contract in blood to turn his soul
over to Mephistopheles in return for the feeling of youth, and at once became
young. When the time came for Faustus to die, he retired to his room and was
blown to bits as though his laboratory had exploded. This story is a protest of
the times (the Sixteenth Century) against science, chemistry, and magic.
To the Satanist, it is unnecessary to sell your soul to the Devil or make a pact
with Satan. This threat was devised by Christianity to terrorize people so they
would not stray from the fold. With scolding fingers and trembling voices, they
taught their followers that if they gave in to the temptations of Satan, and
lived their lives according to their natural predilictions, they would have to
pay for their sinful pleasures by giving their souls to Satan and suffering in
Hell for all eternity. People were led to believe that a pure soul was a
passport to everlasting life.
Pious prophets have taught man to fear Satan. But what of terms like "God
fearing"? If God is so merciful, why do people have to fear him? Are we to
believe there is nowhere we can turn to escape fear? If you have to fear God,
why not be "Satan fearing" and at least have the fun that being God fearing
denies you? Without such a wholesale fear religionists would have had nothing
with which to wield power over their followers.
The Teutonic Goddess of the Dead and daughter of Loki was named Hel, a Pagan god
of torture and punishment. Another "L" was added when the books of the Old
Testament were formulated. The prophets who wrote the Bible did not know the
word "Hell"; they used the Hebrew Sheol and the Greek Hades, which meant the
grave; also the Greek Tartaros, which was the abode of fallen angels, the
underworld (inside the earth), and Gehenna, which was a valley near Jerusalem
where Moloch reigned and garbage was dumped and burned. It is from this that the
Christian Church has evolved the idea of "fire and brimstone" in Hell.
The Protestant Hell and the Catholic Hell are places of eternal punishment;
however, the Catholics also believe there is a "Purgatory" where all souls go
for a time, and a "Limbo" where unbaptized souls go. The Buddhist Hell is
divided into eight sections, the first seven of which can be expiated. The
ecclesiastical description of Hell is that of a horrible place of fire and
torment; in Dante's Inferno, and in northern climes, it was thought to be an icy
cold region, a giant refrigerator.
(Even with all their threats of eternal damnation and soul roasting, Christian
missionaries have run across some who were not so quick to swallow their drivel.
Pleasure and pain, like beauty, are in the eye of the beholder. So, when
missionaries ventured into Alaska and warned the Eskimos of the horrors of Hell
and the blazing lake of fire awaiting transgressors, they eagerly asked: "How do
we get there?"!)
Most Satanists do not accept Satan as an anthropomorphic being with cloven
hooves, a barbed tail, and horns. He merely represents a force in nature - the
powers of darkness which have been named just that because no religion has taken
these forces out of the darkness. Nor has science been able to apply technical
terminology to this force. It is an untapped reservoir that few can make use of
because they lack the ability use a tool without having to first break down and
label all the parts which make it run. It is this incessant need to analyze
which prohibits most people from taking advantage of this many faceted key to
the unknown - which the Satanist chooses to call "Satan".
Boo!
Propz to clit
I
1. In this arid wilderness of steel and stone I raise up my voice that you may
hear. To the East and to the West I beckon. To the North and to the South I show
a sign proclaiming: Death to the weakling, wealth to the strong! 2. Open your
eyes that you may see, Oh men of mildewed minds, and listen to me ye bewildered
millions! 3. For I stand forth to challenge the wisdom of the world; to
interrogate the "laws" of man and of "God"! 4. I request reason for your golden
rule and ask the why and wherefore of your ten commandments. 5. Before none of
your printed idols do I bend in acquiescence, and he who saith "thou shalt" to
me is my mortal foe! 6. I dip my forefinger in the watery blood of your
impotent mad redeemer, and write over his thorn-torn brow: The TRUE prince of
evil - the king of slaves! 7. No hoary falsehood shall be a truth to me; no
stifling dogma shall encramp my pen! 8. I break away from all conventions that
do not lead to my earthly success and happiness. 9. I raise up in stern
invasion the standard of the strong! 10. I gaze into the glassy eye of your
fearsome Jehovah, and pluck him by the beard; I uplift a broad-axe, and split
open his worm-eaten skull! 11. I blast out the ghastly contents of
philosophically whited sepulchers and laugh with sardonic wrath!
THE BOOK OF SATAN
II Behold the crucifix; what does it symbolize? Pallid incompetence hanging on a
tree. I question all things. As I stand before the festering and varnished
facades of your haughtiest moral dogmas, I write thereon in letters of blazing
scorn: Lo and behold; all this is fraud! Gather around me, Oh! ye
death-defiant, and the earth itself shall be thine, to have and to hold! Too
long the dead hand has been permitted to sterilize living thought! Too long
right and wrong, good and evil have been inverted by false prophets! No creed
must be accepted upon authority of a "divine" nature. Religions must be put to
the question. No moral dogma must be taken for granted - no standard of
measurement deified. There is nothing inherently sacred about moral codes. Like
the wooden idols of long ago, they are the work of human hands, and what man has
made, man can destroy! He that is slow to believe anything and everything is of
great understanding, for belief in one false principle is the beginning of all
unwisdom. The chief duty of every new age is to upraise new men to determine
its liberties, to lead it towards material success - to rend the rusty padlocks
and chains of dead custom that always prevent healthy expansion. Theories and
ideas that may have meant life and hope and freedom for our ancestors may now
mean destruction, slavery, and dishonor to us! As environments change, no human
ideal standeth sure! Whenever, therefore, a lie has built unto itself a throne,
let it be assailed without pity and without regret, for under the domination of
an inconvenient falsehood, no one can prosper. Let established sophisms be
dethroned, rooted out, burnt and destroyed, for they are a standing menace to
all true nobility of thought and action! Whatever alleged "truth" is proven by
results to be but an empty fiction, let it be unceremoniously flung into the
outer darkness, among the dead gods, dead empires, dead philosophies, and other
useless lumber and wreckage! The most dangerous of all enthroned lies is the
holy, the sanctified, the privileged lie - the lie everyone believes to be a
model truth. It is the fruitful mother of all other popular errors and
delusions. It is a hydra-headed tree of unreason with a thousand roots. It is a
social cancer! The lie that is known to be a lie is half eradicated, but the
lie that even intelligent persons accept as fact - the lie that has been
inculcated in a little child at its mother's knee - is more dangerous to contend
against than a creeping pestilence! Popular lies have ever been the most potent
enemies of personal liberty. There is only one way to deal with them: Cut them
out, to the very core, just as cancers. Exterminate them root and branch.
Annihilate them, or they will us!
THE BOOK OF SATAN
III "Love one another" it has been said is the supreme law, but what power made
it so? Upon what rational authority does the gospel of love rest? Why should I
not hate mine enemies - if I "love" them does that not place me at their mercy?
Is it natural for enemies to do good unto each other - and WHAT IS GOOD? Can
the torn and bloody victim "love" the blood-splashed jaws that rend him limb
from limb? Are we not all predatory animals by instinct? If humans ceased
wholly from preying upon each other, could they continue to exist? Is not "lust
and carnal desire" a more truthful term to describe "love" when applied to the
continuance of the race? Is not the "love" of the fawning scriptures simply a
euphemism for sexual activity, or was the "great teacher" a glorifier of
eunuchs? Love your enemies and do good to them that hate and use you - is this
not the despicable philosophy of the spaniel that rolls upon its back when
kicked? Hate your enemies with a whole heart, and if a man smite you on one
cheek, SMASH him on the other!; smite him hip and thigh, for self-preservation
is the highest law! He who turns the other cheek is a cowardly dog! Give blow
for blow, scorn for scorn, doom for doom - with compound interest liberally
added thereunto! Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, aye four-fold, a hundred-fold!
Make yourself a Terror to your adversary, and when he goeth his way, he will
possess much additional wisdom to ruminate over. Thus shall you make yourself
respected in all the walks of life, and your spirit - your immortal spirit -
shall live, not in an intangible paradise, but in the brains and sinews of those
whose respect you have gained.
THE BOOK OF SATAN
IV Life is the great indulgence - death, the great abstinence. Therefore, make
the most of life - HERE AND NOW! There is no heaven of glory bright, and no
hell where sinners roast. Here and now is our day of torment! Here and now is
our day of joy! Here and now is our opportunity! Choose ye this day, this hour,
for no redeemer liveth! Say unto thine own heart, "I am mine own redeemer."
Stop the way of them that would persecute you. Let those who devise thine
undoing be hurled back to confusion and infamy. Let them be as chaff before the
cyclone and after they have fallen rejoice in thine own salvation. Then all thy
bones shall say pridefully, "Who is like unto me? Have I not been too strong for
mine adversaries? Have I not delivered MYSELF by mine own brain and body?"
THE BOOK OF SATAN
V Blessed are the strong, for they shall possess the earth - Cursed are the
weak, for they shall inherit the yoke! Blessed are the powerful, for they shall
be reverenced among men - Cursed are the feeble, for they shall be blotted out!
Blessed are the bold, for they shall be masters of the world - Cursed are the
righteously humble, for they shall be trodden under cloven hoofs! Blessed are
the victorious, for victory is the basis of right - Cursed are the vanquished,
for they shall be vassals forever! Blessed are the iron-handed, for the unfit
shall flee before them - Cursed are the poor in spirit, for they shall be spat
upon! Blessed are the death-defiant, for their days shall be long in the land -
Cursed are the gazers toward a richer life beyond the grave, for they shall
perish amidst plenty! Blessed are the destroyers of false hope, for they are
the true Messiahs - Cursed are the god-adorers, for they shall be shorn sheep!
Blessed are the valiant, for they shall obtain great treasure - Cursed are the
believers in good and evil, for they are frightened by shadows! Blessed are
those that believe in what is best for them, for never shall their minds be
terrorized - Cursed are the "lambs of God", for they shall be bled whiter than
snow! Blessed is the man who has a sprinkling of enemies, for they shall make
him a hero - Cursed is he who doeth good unto others who sneer upon him in
return, for he shall be despised! Blessed are the mighty-minded, for they shall
ride the whirlwinds - Cursed are they who teach lies for truth and truth for
lies, for they are an abomination! Thrice cursed are the weak whose insecurity
makes them vile, for they shall serve and suffer! The angel of self-deceit is
camped in the souls of the "righteous" - The eternal flame of power through joy
dwelleth within the flesh of the Satanist!
(AIR)
THE BOOK OF LUCIFER
THE ENLIGHTENMENT The Roman god, Lucifer, was the bearer of light, the spirit of
the air, the personification of enlightenment. In Christian mythology he became
synonymous with evil, which was only to have been expected from a religion whose
very existence is perpetuated by clouded definitions and bogus values! It is
time to set the record straight. False moralisms and occult inaccuracies must be
corrected. Entertaining as they might be, most stories and plays about Devil
worship must be recognized as the obsolete absurdities they are. It has been
said "the truth will make men free". The truth alone has never set anyone free.
It is only DOUBT which will bring mental emancipation. Without the wonderful
element of doubt, the doorway through which truth passes would be tightly shut,
impervious to the most strenuous poundings of a thousand Lucifers. How
understandable that Holy Scripture should refer to the Infernal monarch as the
"father of lies" - a magnificent example of character inversion. If one is to
believe this theological accusation that the Devil represents falsehood, then it
surely must be concurred that it was HE, NOT GOD, THAT ESTABLISHED ALL SPIRITUAL
RELIGIONS AND WHO WROTE ALL OF THE HOLY BIBLES! When one doubt is followed by
another, the bubble, grown large from long accumulated fallacies, threatens to
burst. For those who already doubt supposed truths, this book is revelation.
Then Lucifer will have risen. Now is the time for doubt! The bubble of falsehood
is bursting and its sound is the roar of the world!
- W A N T E D ! - GOD DEAD OR ALIVE IT is a popular misconception that the
Satanist does not believe in God. The concept of "God", as interpreted by man,
has been so varied throughout the ages, that the Satanist simply accepts the
definition which suits him best. Man has always created his gods, rather than
his gods creating him. God is, to some, benign - to others, terrifying. To the
Satanist "God" - by whatever name he is called, or by no name at all - is seen
as the balancing factor in nature, and not as being concerned with suffering.
This powerful force which permeates and balances the universe is far too
impersonal to care about the happiness or misery of flesh-and-blood creatures on
this ball of dirt upon which we live.
Anyone who thinks of Satan as evil should consider all the men, women, children,
and animals who have died because it was "God's will". Certainly a person
grieving the untimely loss of a loved one whould much rather have their loved
one with them than in God's hands! Instead, they are unctuously consoled by
their clergyman who says, "It was God's will, my dear"; or "He is in God's hands
now, my son." Such phrases have been a convenient way for religionists to
condone or excuse the mercilessness of God. But if God is in complete control
and as benign as he is supposed to be, why does He allow these things to happen?
Too long have religionists been falling back on their bibles and rulebooks to
prove or disprove, justify, condemn, or interpret.
The Satanist realizes that man, and the action and reaction of the universe, is
responsible for everything, and doesn't mislead himself into thinking that
someone cares. No longer will we sit back and accept "fate" without doing
anything about it, just because it says so in Chapter such and such, Psalm so
and so - and that's that! The Satanist knows that praying does absolutely no
good - in fact, it actually lessens the chance of success, for the devoutly
religious too often sit back complacently and pray for a situation which, if
they were to do something about it on their own, could be accomplished much
quicker!
The Satanist shuns terms such as "hope" and "prayer" as they are indicative of
apprehension. If we hope and pray for something to come about, we will not act
in a positive way which will make it happen. The Satanist, realizing that
anything he gets is of his own doing, takes command of the situation instead of
praying to God for it to happen. Positive thinking and positive action add up to
results.
Just as the Satanist does not pray to God for assistance, he does not pray for
forgiveness for his wrong doings. In other religions, when one commits a wrong
he either prays to God for forgiveness, or confesses to an intermediary and asks
him to pray to God for forgiveness for his sins. The Satanist knows that praying
does no good, confessing to another human being, like himself, accomplishes even
less - and is, furthermore, degrading.
When a Satanist commits a wrong, he realizes that it is natural to make a
mistake - and if he is truly sorry about what he has done, he will learn from it
and take care not to do the same thing again. If he is not honestly sorry about
what he has done, and knows he will do the same thing over and over, he has no
business confessing and asking forgiveness in the first place. But this is
exactly what happens. People confess their sins so that they can clear their
consciences - and be free to go out and sin again, usually the same sin.
There are many diferent interpretations of God, in the usual sense of the word,
as there are types of people. The images run from a belief in a god who is some
vague sort of "universal cosmic mind" to an anthropomorphic deity with a long
white beard and sandals who keeps track of every action of each individual.
Even within the confines of a given religion, the personal interpretations of
God differ greatly. Some religions actually go so far as to label anyone who
belongs to a religious sect other than their own a heretic, even though the
overall doctrines and impressions of godliness are nearly the same. For example:
The Catholics believe that the Protestants are doomed to Hell simply because
they do not belong to the Catholic Church. In the same way, many splinter groups
of the Christian faith, such as the evangelical or revivalist churches, believe
that the Catholics are heathens who worship graven images. (Christ is depicted
in the image that is most psychologically akin to the individual worshipping
him, and yet the Chrisitans criticize "heathens" for the worship of graven
images.) And the Jews have always been given the Devil's name.
Even though the god in all of these religions is basically the same, each
regards the way chosen by the others as reprehensible, and to top it all,
religionists actually PRAY for one another! They have scorn for the brothers of
the right-hand path because their religions carry different labels, and somehow
this animosity must be released. What better way than through "prayer"! What a
simperingly polite way of saying: "I hate your guts," is the thinly disguised
device known as praying for your enemy! Praying for one's own enemy is nothing
more than bargain-basement anger, and of a decidedly shoddy and inferior
quality!
If there has been so much violent discrepancy as to the proper way in which to
worship God, how many different interpretations of God can there be - and who is
right?
All devout "white-lighters" are concerned with pleasing God so that they might
have the "Pearly Gates" opened for them when they die. Nevertheless, if a man
has not lived his life in accordance with the regulations of his faith, he can
at the last minute call a clergyman to his deathbed for a final absolution. The
priest or minister will then come running on the double, to "make everything
right" with God and see to it that his passport to the Heavenly Realm is in
order. (The Yezidis, a sect of Devil worshippers, take a different viewpoint.
They believe that God is all-powerful, but also all-forgiving, and so
accordingly feel that it is the Devil whom they must please, as he is the one
who rules their lives while here on earth. They believe so strongly that God
will forgive all of their sins once they have been given the last rites, that
they feel no need to concern themselves with the opinion God may hold of them
while they live.)
With all of the contradictions in the Christian scriptures, many people
currently cannot rationally accept Christianity the way it has been practiced in
the past. Great numbers of people are beginning to doubt the existence of God,
in the established Christian sense of the word. So, they have taken to calling
themselves "Christian Atheists". True, the Christian Bible is a mass of
contradictions; but what could be more contradictory than the term "Christian
Atheist"?
If prominent leaders of the Christian faith are rejecting the past
interpretations of God, how then can their followers be expected to adhere to
previous religious tradition?
With all the debates about whether or not God is dead, if he isn't he had better
have MEDICARE! THE GOD YOU SAVE MAY BE YOURSELF ALL religions of a
spiritual nature are inventions of man. He has created an entire system of gods
with nothing more than his carnal brain. Just because he has an ego, and cannot
accept it, he has to externalize it into some great spiritual device which he
calls "God".
God can do all the things man is forbidden to do - such as kill people, perform
miracles to gratify his will, control without any apparent responsibility, etc.
If man needs such a god and recognizes that god, then he is worshipping an
entity that a human being invented. Therefore, HE IS WORSHIPPING BY PROXY THE
MAN THAT INVENTED GOD. Is it not more sensible to worship a god that he,
himself, has created, in accordance with his own emotional needs - one that best
represents the very carnal and physical being that has the idea-power to invent
a god in the first place?
If man insists on externalizing his true self in the form of "God", then why
fear his true self, in fearing "God", - why praise his true self in praising
"God", - why remain externalized from "God" IN ORDER TO ENGAGE IN RITUAL AND
RELIGIOUS CEREMONY IN HIS NAME?
Man needs ritual and dogma, but no law states that an externalized god is
necessary in order to engage in ritual and ceremony performed in a god's name!
Could it be that when he closes the gap between himself and his "God" he sees
the demon of pride creeping forth - that very embodiment of Lucifer appearing in
his midst? He no longer can view himself in two parts, the carnal and the
spiritual, but sees them merge as one, and then to his abysmal horror, discovers
that they are only the carnal - AND ALWAYS WERE! Then he either hates himself to
death, day by day - or rejoices that he is what he is!
If he hates himself, he searches out new and more complex spiritual paths of
"enlightenment" in hopes that he may split himself up again in his quest for
stronger and more externalized "gods" to scourge his poor miserable shell. If he
accepts himself, but recognizes that ritual and ceremony are the important
devices that his invented religions have utilized to sustain his faith in a lie,
then it is the SAME FORM OF RITUAL that will sustain his faith in the truth -
the primitive pageantry that will give his awareness of his own majestic being
added substance.
When all religious faith in lies has waned, it is because man has become closer
to himself and farther from "God"; closer to the "Devil." If this is what the
devil represents, and a man lives his life in the devil's fane, with the sinews
of Satan moving in his flesh, then he either escapes from the cacklings and
carpings of the righteous, or stands proudly in his secret places of the earth
and manipulates the folly-ridden masses through his own Satanic might, until
that day when he may come forth in splendor proclaiming "I AM A SATANIST! BOW
DOWN, FOR I AM THE HIGHEST EMBODIMENT OF HUMAN LIFE!" SOME EVIDENCE OF A NEW
SATANIC AGE THE seven deadly sins of the Christian Church are: greed, pride,
envy, anger, gluttony, lust, and sloth. Satanism advocates indulging in each of
these "sins" as they all lead to physical, mental, or emotional gratification.
A Satanist knows there is nothing wrong with being greedy, as it only means that
he wants more than he already has. Envy means to look with favor upon the
possessions of others, and to be desirous of obtaining similar things for
oneself. Envy and greed are the motivating forces of ambition - and without
ambition, very little of any importance would be accomplished.
Gluttony is simply eating more than you need to keep yourself alive. When you
have overeaten to the point of obesity, another sin - pride - will motivate you
to regain an appearance that will renew your self-respect.
Anyone who buys an article of clothing for a purpose other than covering his
body and protecting it from the elements is guilty of pride. Satanists often
encounter scoffers who maintain that labels are not necessary. It must be
pointed out to these destroyers of labels that one or many articles they
themselves are wearing are not wearing are not necessary to keep them warm.
There is not a person on this earth who is completely devoid of ornamentation.
The Satanist points out that any ornamentation of the scoffer's body shows that
he, too, is guilty of pride. Regardless of how verbose the cynic may be in his
intellectual description of how free he is, he is still wearing the elements of
pride.
Being reluctant to get up in the morning is to be guilty of sloth, and if you
lie in bed long enough you may find yourself commiting yet another sin - lust.
To have the faintest stirring of sexual desire is to be guilty of lust. In order
to insure the propagation of humanity, nature made lust the second most powerful
instinct, the first being self-preservation. Realizing this, the Christian
Church made fornication the "Original Sin". In this way they made sure no one
would escape sin. Your very state of being is as a result of sin - the Original
sin!
The strongest instinct in every living thing is self-preservation, which brings
us to the last of the seven deadly sins - anger. Is it not our instinct for
self-preservation that is aroused when someone harms us, when we become angry
enough to protect ourselves from further attack? A Satanist practices the motto,
"If a man smite thee on one cheek, smash him on the other!" Let no wrong go
unredressed. Be as a lion in the path - be dangerous even in defeat!
Since man's natural instincts lead him to sin, all men are sinners; and all
sinners go to hell. If everyone goes to hell, then you will meet all your
friends there. Heaven must be populated with some rather strange creatures if
all they lived for was to go to a place where they can strum harps for eternity.
"Times have changed. Religious leaders no longer preach that all our natural
actions are sinful. We no longer think sex is dirty - or that taking pride in
ourselves is shameful - or that wanting something someone else has is vicious."
Of course not, times have changed! "If you want proof of this, just look at how
liberal churches have become. Why, they're practicing all the things that you
preach."
Satanists hear these, and similar statements, all the time; and they agree
wholeheartedly. BUT, if the world has changed so much, why continue to grasp at
the threads of a dying faith? If many religions are denying their own scriptures
because they are out of date, and are preaching the philosophies of Satanism,
why not call it by its rightful name - Satanism? Certainly it would be far less
hypocritical.
In recent years there has been an attempt to humanize the spiritual concept of
Christianity. This has manifested itself in the most obvious non-spiritual
means. Masses which had been said in Latin are now said in native languages -
which only succeeds in making the nonsense easier to understand, and at the same
time robs the ceremony of the esoteric nature which is consistent with the
tenets of the dogma. It is much simpler to obtain an emotional reaction using
words and phrases that cannot be understood than it is with statements which
even the simplest mind will question when hearing them in an understandable
language.
If priests and ministers were to have used the devices to fill their churches
one hundred years ago that they use today, they would have been charged with
heresy, called devils, oft-times persecuted, but certainly excommunicated
without hesitation.
The religionists wail, "We must keep up with the times," forgetting that, due to
limiting factors and deeply engrained laws of white light religions, there can
never be sufficient change to meet the needs of man.
Past religions have always represented the spiritual nature of man, with little
or no concern for his carnal or mundane needs. They have considered this life
but transitory, and the flesh merely a shell; physical pleasure trivial, and
pain a worthwhile preparation for the "Kingdom of God". How well the utter
hypocrisy comes forth when the "righteous" make a change in their religion to
keep up with man's natural change! The only way that Christianity can ever
completely serve the needs of man is to become as Satanism is NOW.
It has become necessary for a NEW religion, based on man's natural instincts, to
come forth. THEY have named it. It is called Satanism. It is that power
condemned that has caused the religious controversy over birth-control measures
- a disgruntled admission that sexual activity, for fun, is here to stay.
It is the "Devil" who caused women to show their legs, to titillate men - the
same kind of legs, now socially acceptable to gaze upon, which are revealed by
young nuns as they walk about in their shortened habits. What a delightful step
in the right (or left) direction! Is it possible we will soon see "topless" nuns
sensually throwing their bodies about to the "Missa Solemnis Rock"? Satan smiles
and says he would like that fine - many nuns are very pretty girls with nice
legs.
Double Sided dual layer discs do exist. The Terminator 2 dvd with 3 versions of the movie I believe is like that.
Its called DVD-18 for the number of gigs it can hold. The DVD-FAQ can answer far more than this comment.
That will be a long time from now...
How many sand nigger families do you know of that have dont have 5+ kids?
The kikes should just napalm those fucking camps.
Thats fucking scary
Sale on Marlboros
no reason to quit now
THE LOCKED ROOM
I was sucking his cock. Wet and slick, it went down to my throat and crept out back like a thick snake. Then somebody knocked at the door behind me and it opened without a pause. I heard giggles and voices, half-embarrassed, half-amused.
"Sorry! It looks like we are at the wrong time!"
"Come in, come in!" I felt he waived his hand above me, while his other hand pressed my head to his crotch tightly. "Wait a minute, I'll finish feeding my bitch."
They took their places in the armchairs, laughing. On the minor changes in the rhythm I understood that he was close to cumming. I took the root of his cock just above his hefty balls in the ring of my fingers and massaged lightly. He burst into my mouth in three portions of thick slippery juice and I swallowed it hastily - he didn't like when I let it leak out.
He was my boss. Three months ago, in June, I graduated from our local college and faced the problem I knew I would meet. What I didn't know was that I would take it so sharp. I was a good student and my specialty seemed to be in demand. I worked when studying. But the owner of the company got in trouble with some tough guys from Siberia and blew up in his expensive "Mercedes" recently. So, I didn't have job, I didn't have references and I didn't have acquaintances to speak for me.
I was optimistic in the beginning - but by the end of the second month I was on the verge of nervous breakdown. I didn't get even a shadow of an employment so far - and I didn't have hope I would have it in future. I was running out of money swiftly and desperately. But the worst, probably, was the feeling that I was a failure.
I have to say, I was almost hopeless when my conversation with my future boss began. He was a solid burly man in his forties, rather stern and detached. He asked usual questions and his face didn't brighten for a moment. Then he asked if I was gay.
I got frozen. The thing was that some years ago I decided for myself that I wouldn't advertise my sexual preferences but if asked directly, I would tell the truth. Anyway, I think I have something in me that makes suppose I am not straight (I wonder if it was a part of my troubles with looking for job).
"Yes," I said.
"I do not mind," he said.
We spoke a little more and then he said:
"You know, for this money I'm going to pay I can take a specialist with years of experience."
I nodded. That was exactly what I heard dozens of times.
"The question is if you can offer me something more than simply good work."
You see, I didn't even understand him at first. Our talking was pretty sexless and even his reaction to my answer was absolutely cool. I looked at him in surprise. And then I for the first time saw this little smile on his lips and he said in a low voice:
"You know, like that," his hand was stroking his bulge through the material of his pants.
Look, I knew it was a usual way for girls to get the job. Almost obligatory if she was young and pretty. But I was a man!
Well, maybe, if he had urged me right then, I would have rejected and gone. But he said:
"Think about it. If you agree, the job is yours. You can come tomorrow at nine."
Back at home I thought it all over. I could start working! Even to imagine it was bliss: to have a job, to be secured, my parents don't ask me any more if I've found something... What's wrong, I thought. If girls can take it, so can I. I am not better than them.
Things started working out when I got the place. I borrowed money to drag myself to the first salary - now I knew I would be able to return it. I tried not to focus on my extra duties and most of time I managed it.
However, I still never got into the situation like that: I was on my knees in front of my boss' armchair and behind me there were two man sitting and observing me with derisive smiles.
I was so embarrassed that I didn't know how I would be able to stand up and turn my face to them. I lingered with the limp cock of my boss licking and cleansing it until he said:
"C'mon, get up," and pulled me up.
My face must have been bright-red when I looked at them. I even couldn't see clearly - but I knew who those two were. Arthur K., my boss' best friend and vice-president of a local bank, and another "new Russian" businessman, Georgy, didn't know his surname, a big muscled guy with thick dark mustaches.
"Do you know my computer manager?" my boss said holding me by my upper arm.
Arthur, a fat cheerful man, looked at me with a kind of benign smile - and Georgy said:
"The faggot? I wondered how he looked like."
The meaning of the words made me sick. So, he talked about me! I have to say, I hoped somehow that he would get bored with our sex and I would have to do only my direct work. But it looked like he took it much more serious.
I tried to free my arm from my boss' grip.
"I have to go," I mumbled. "I have work to do..."
"You didn't finish your work here," my boss said and pushed me back to his table. Three of us watched him walking to the door, looking out and saying to his secretary:
"Tanya, don't put me through to anyone."
Then he locked the door and put the keys to his pocket.
Seeing all these preparations made me feel creepy inside. That is, he hardly locked the door to have a confidential talking with us. But the thing was I couldn't believe it in my heart. I made sex with him - but three people are not one, right?
"Take your clothes off," my boss said.
I didn't move. The situation was tense - and still it was not what I expected. The two watched me in amusement.
"Take off your fucking clothes, you faggot slut!" my boss yelled. He reached his hand and pulled my shirt out of the pants.
I know, what I did next was shitty. I am shitty... But at that moment I didn't yell back at him: "Get your hands off of me!" I was in a kind of stupor - I couldn't move, couldn't say a word. My legs felt so weak that I was ready to crumble on the floor in a heap. I started trembling - vibrating, actually - as if I was going to piss and shit myself.
"Look what you have done," Arthur said to my boss. "You really scared the kid. Let him go."
"He will go when I say," my boss was exasperated. "He is paid for it! Either you take your clothes off..." it was to me, of course.
I managed to stop shaking. Well, I didn't have much choice - and so, I resigned. Well, what I had to do? To scream blue murder? They didn't even touch me. To tell them I don't play and fuck the job? Somehow it seemed stupid to me to start speaking about it - it was a kind of discrepancy, wasn't it? And I was not ready to fuck the job, you see...
So, I stripped. The two gazed at me with interest. My boss was not so interested - he saw it many times before. When I was done, he pushed me naked between the armchairs of his friends.
I made my mind to take it. Why to play virgin of myself? I was through it before. They hardly would damage me - so, I wouldn't be any the worse for it. Arthur took me by my waist in his big soft hands and turned me face to himself.
"Let's see what we have here," he murmured. He had a very pleasant voice, drawling but not husky, intimate even on the phone. He pawed my front. "Two little pretty tits. A scar of appendicitis. A lovely cock, soft. So far. And two smart balls," he cupped them in his palm. "Come closer," he pulled me to himself and shifted himself from the seat of the armchair to its broad elbow-rest. "What can we do with it?"
I was scared, I was cold, I was disgusted with myself. I didn't want him to do anything. But he embraced me with one his arm and put his hot mouth on my nipple.
He licked and sucked my nipples in turn while his other hand was massaging my balls tenderly. You know... he was so big and fat and, how to say, unthreatening. And I felt almost protected in his embrace. And his mouth was wet and warm. So, I got hard-on - as he wanted it.
"Lovely. Very lovely," he said affectionately. Suddenly he moved and lowered himself on his knees. This huge awkward man kneeled in front of me - and he took my erect cock into his mouth.
This way as I stood I was back to Georgy - and soon enough I felt his finger poking into my ass hole.
"He is not tight," Georgy said.
"He likes to be fucked," my boss answered. "He told me. He likes his ass filled with a big cock, the bigger the better."
I bit my lip. You know, this kind of conversation - you can't start arguing with it.
"Have you ever had sex with two?" my boss asked me.
"Yes," I said. He laughed.
"They fucked you in turns, I bet. Made a good ride. Fucked the shit out of you."
"No," I said flatly. "It was at school. I sucked one boy and the other sucked me."
Now Arthur was sucking my dick - and Georgy was getting his fingers into my ass. Two fingers were all right and even three I could take but when I felt he was trying to add the forth I looked around to him.
"Please, don't do it," I asked in a tight voice. "It hurts."
"No, it doesn't," he said casually and at once I felt all his four fingers penetrating me and his hand with the place where they were jointed. I flinched - and flinched again when he pulled it back.
"What are you doing?" Arthur looked around me, too.
"Check how much a whore he is," Georgy answered.
"Please, don't do it," I said again mechanically. By then I already got an idea what he was planning to do - and it scared me greatly.
"Look, you have spoiled everything," Arthur said to Georgy with reproach. The thing was I was not aroused anymore.
"Big deal!" Georgy shrugged.
"Please don't do it," I repeated. I seemed to be half-dumb - I couldn't think of any other words to convince them.
"Shut your mouth," Georgy snarled. "Help me!"
He said it to Arthur but it was my boss who threw me belly-down on the back of the armchair and pressed me tightly. Georgy kicked my legs wide.
"Please don't fist me!" at least I found the words. "I didn't do it before!"
"Look," Arthur sounded concerned. "He says he didn't take it before. Maybe, you won't do it?"
"He is lying," my boss said.
Georgy's merciless hand was working my hole. It already seemed to me more stretched than I ever had. And then he added his thumb and pushed all of it inside.
I felt as if he was tearing me, as if he was sliding apart the bones of my pelvis. The place where the thumb joints was the thickest - and then my hole clenched around his hairy wrist.
He was inside me! I never felt nothing like that. It was unnatural - not so much painful as frightening. He moved his fingers inside me. I almost threw up.
"Hey," Georgy said, "roll up my sleeve."
"You aren't going to push it farther, are you?" Arthur said.
"I don't know," Georgy answered. "It depends how much he can take."
He rocked his hand in my ass. It was so sickening that I swallowed and swallowed trying not to puke. Something was leaking on my legs, not blood, ass juices, I think.
"How does it feel like?" my boss asked with interest.
"Strange," Georgy replied. "Do you want to try?"
The question made me feel panicky almost to the point of fainting. All my insides contracted and my rectum, too.
"Oh, tight," Georgy said amused.
I had to stop myself from tensing, I reminded, or I'll harm myself.
I managed to do it partly by the time Georgy yanked his hand out of me. There were more liquids running on my legs and apparently Georgy's hand was filthy because my boss said:
"Take a paper towel."
Now it was my boss' hand trying into my hole. I think there were some minor splits around my sphincter because it hurt when he was going through it. But, actually, he did it much quicker than Georgy. He ran his fingers inside me for a while, touching me there, and went out, too.
"It's hot," he said. "Do you want, Misha?"
I was sobbing by then; every my breath was a sob.
"No!" he answered abruptly.
"Give him to suck, then," my boss suggested. "He will tighten meanwhile."
He agreed and my boss pushed me on my knees. When Arthur unzipped and pulled out his dick, I comforted a little. It was what I knew - sucking - and Arthur's looked really small, especially in comparison with his big belly.
I sucked it for a minute or two - I didn't deep-throat, actually, I couldn't even take it to my mouth entirely - his belly was on my way. But Arthur didn't mind and soon I felt several soft pushes of his abdomen - and he filled my mouth with his cum.
I was afraid of what would happen now, when I finished with him. It was so soothing to sit at his knees. But my boss got me up.
"You are lucky today," he said. "There is one more ready for you."
I saw Georgy had already taken out his veined massive dick.
"Bend down," he said to me.
After the examination they gave to my hole his cock slid there easily. It was pretty unpleasant when rubbing - but Georgy didn't last long. In about thirty thrusts he got a breath-taking speed and then cummed.
"Good ass," he said wearily, taking it out of me, and slapped me lightly.
"You can get dressed," my boss said in an official tone.
As much as I could I brought myself in order in the lavatory. When I returned to my working place, I didn't know what to do. It hurt to sit but nothing worse they didn't do. What I thought about was what a piece of shit I was. If I allowed this to happen to me, then there is nothing I won't allow to be done.
And what now? I could leave the work, of course, but, look, after all this was over - don't you think it would be ridiculous. I mean, if I had left before it... I thought then, maybe, I could speak to my boss, ask him not to do it any more, no more his friends... Well, I know it sounds idiotic.
Fortunately, I really had a lot of work then. It somehow distracted me from these devastating thoughts.
"Take it easy," Tanya said to me when we had a break. "Whatever happened. He is an asshole. He fired me a year ago - because he decided that a little cunt in mini would match his reception room better. I thought I would go mad, my husband was unemployed then. And in a week he took me back because the silly girl messed his appointments."
But you know what happened next day? Arthur called me and asked if I would like to work for him for twice bigger salary than there. Of course, I agreed. My boss - well, maybe, he minded - but Arthur was his friend and I was not a big deal to break friendship. He even paid me for a month I worked there.
I still work at Arthur's bank. We have sex from time to time - but it is always sex, never sex-serving. And I do not mind. I like him.
The End
The man positioned himself in a chair behind the door where he knew he would be well hidden. The lights had been off upon his arrival, and due to the late hour, he figured the pilot would not likely turn them on upon entering. *Not that it would matter if he does, * the stranger thought to himself, *he doesn't seem to be much of fighter when faced head on,* he laughed.
A beam of light shot across the room for a brief moment, as the door opened and then quickly shut again. Murdock crossed the room, removing his jacket and shirt along the way, and sat down heavily on the bed.
Wasting no time, the figure moved stealthily across the floor and came up behind him unnoticed. Looping his left arm through the pilots, he anchored his hand on the back of his neck, while his right hand instantaneously clamped firmly over his mouth preventing him from calling out. In one swift motion, Murdock was pinned beneath the man, face down on the bed. A knee came down on his upper back forcing his face into the pillow. Not giving him a chance to struggle, one arm was yanked above his head and fastened to the head board by a belted restraint. Keeping his face in the pillow, the stranger followed suit with the pilot's other arm. Then he lay down on top of him.
Murdock thrashed about wildly, but the calloused hand returned to his mouth and the man jerked his head back forcefully to let him know how serious he was. He tried screaming to no avail, as he felt a hand dive between himself and the bed. No words were spoken, as his pants were forcefully yanked down. Murdock froze in shock as he realized what was about to happen. The man paused, lifted his hand to Murdock's face, and gently stroked his cheek. The kindly gesture only served to confuse the pilot.
Murdock could hear the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and the unmistakable feeling of an erection, being stroked across the crack of his ass. His breathing quickened as the fear began to grip him once again. Too many of the larger, and more violent patients in the hospital had made this particular threat to him, to take this lightly. A ball of cloth was suddenly stuffed into his mouth, replacing the hand. Murdock was now being pulled up by the hips, and a pillow was shoved under his stomach for leverage.
Once again the hand delve beneath him, this time to take hold of his shaft. He fondled it for a minute, running his hand along it's length and squeezing the moist tip between his thumb and forefinger, then sliding back down again, repeating the process over and over. The hand pulled away, only to come back from behind, between his thighs. The man slowly rolled Murdock's balls around in his palm, caressing them, and gathering them together to the base of his shaft until it slowly began to stiffen. Murdock then felt the man's tongue caress his anus, coating it with saliva, before sticking his tongue deep inside. Murdock whimpered and almost began to sob for himself, because he found himself wishing the stranger would Fuck him.
As the need grew, he thrust toward the slick powerful muscle tasting him. The tongue withdrew. There was no penetration but Murdock could feel the man begin to thrust against his crack hard. He could hear his assailant's breaths began to come in quick, soft grunts, as he was preparing to take him.
Murdock's body stiffened. The fear was slowly being replaced with need and it frightened him. His entire being screamed out for satisfaction. Then it came, the gentle pressure of the man's cock head poised at his entrance, and a hand firmly spread across his tailbone, to anchor him. Murdock could feel himself opening up for the man ready to swallow him whole. Murdock grunted and sobbed through the cloth, while the tears streamed down his cheeks, ashamed of himself for not having any control over his body. The man grabbed for Murdock's cock once again and jerked it hard, while thrusting deep into his tight ass. Murdock's grunts came from deep inside him, as the man nailed him over and over again with sharp and precise movements.
After a few minutes, an arm wrapped under Murdock's chin and gently raised his head. Murdock was now staring straight ahead with his eye tightly shut, afraid of what was to happen next. The arm moved up a little higher and hovered under his nose. While taking heavy breaths, he managed to catch the scent of a very familiar cologne. His head dropped down to the pillow as he relaxed a bit and allowed the thrusting and pumping to carry him into euphoria.
As the man exploded filling Murdock's ass with his hot juice, Murdock's body began to jerk and his cream spilled out across his bed and pillow. He lay there trying hard to catch his breath through his nose. The man leaned across his back, and while feathering tiny soothing kisses across the back of his sweat soaked neck, he pulled the damp cloth from Murdock's mouth, taking the time to wipe the spittle that trickled out of the corner his mouth, and simultaneously trailed his finger across the pilot's lips.
His voice was sweet and husky as he finally spoke. "How was that Captain?" He asked, gently wiping the tears off of Murdock's cheek and kissing it.
Murdock laughed lightly, while he trembled in his arms. "Colonel, that's the last time, I let you act out one of your fantasies...."
"Really. " Hannibal stated plainly, and began to roll off of him. "Don't forget Captain, you're still tied up."
"You didn't let me finish." He said in a tremulous voice. "That's the last time I let you act out one of your fantasies without warning me first."
Hannibal sat on the corner of the bed smiling as he unfastened the restraints.
Murdock rolled over, still out of breath, staring into Hannibal's mischievous blue eyes.
Hannibal rubbed his hand over Murdock's quivering abdomen and heavily heaving chest. He bent down and delivered a bruising kiss to him, tangling their tongues together in a passionate battle, while grabbing one of his erect nipples and squeezing down hard, smiling as Murdock moaned into his mouth. Hannibal finished the kiss by gently trailing his tongue across Murdock's soft lips, before tucking his cock back into his pants. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, which he was still wearing, and pulled out a cigar. He clenched it in between his teeth, and headed for the window.
Before exiting he turned to look at his victim one more time. "That was your warning Murdock," He said with a smirk. He climbed out the window and grabbed the pane, "see you soon," he smiled. He then winked, closed the window, and left.
Murdock fell asleep right away, with a huge smile on his face....
...and a few knots in his stomach.
THE END
EW
I have sand in mine!
/me squats, Pisses, and moves on.
thank you.
All I wanted wuz uh nice, safe, monogomous relationship.
." She unfastened her skirt an' let it drop
Of course in high skoo I wuz uh simple guy, uh bit different from da rest o'
da peeps where I grew up. I had uh direction an' uh purpose; where most kids
wuz interested in going ta parties an' getting fucked-up (and maybe uh peek if deywuz lucky), I wanted ta study an' make somethin' o' myself.
You know da kind. Poor whitey trash tring ta make somethin' o' himself; da
kid in da corner wiff da glasses held together by tape, calculator in hand.
If dis here wuz an earlier age, he'd be trying ta read da little negroid numbers
off da slipstick; maybe in da future it'suh laptop wiff holograms projecting
out o' it'ssurface.
Except dat I never wore glasses. My parents told me dat in order ta git
along in dis here life ya need ta dress well an' peep pimp-tight, an' who gives uh damn about yo' brains. So I'm just shy o' 6 feet tall an' fairly well built; I
even play waterpolo when sufficiently fucked-up enough not ta care. But muh ma fuckin desire wuz ta be uh professional, perhaps uh systems analyst, wiff uh nice wife an' uh couple o' kids. The dog in da front yard an' da Volvo in da garage iz
optional, o' course.
When I wuz admitted into Pacific Tech, I wuz elated. All da hard study an'
pimp-tight grades allowed me into one o' da toughest schools in da state. Yes, da
place had uh 6 ta 1 ratio male ta beotch, but I wuz only dere ta study. As
soon as I figured out what I wanted ta do wiff muh ma fuckin life, an' as soon as I
graduated ta uh successful job I would jet about finding dat nice biotch who I
could marry an' live happily ever afta wiff. My life wuz progressing quite
nicely, thank ya, an' on da path I forordained fo' myself.
One o' da first things dat happens at PacTech (as we's all knew da place) wuz
"Freshman Camp", uh place where all da students jet ta learn about da honor
code an' meet da various fraternities. It'sgenerally uh three day affair
which takes place in uh small cove just south o' Avon on Santa Catalina Island.
We all gathered in da middle o' da student houses fo' da bus ride out. The
freshman class, about 200 students, brought they gear out an' waited. Looking
around I found mo' than uh sufficient supply o' calculators hanging from nerdy
guy'sbelts ta satisfy da computational requirement o' any one o' NASA'sspace
probes. I wuz glad fo' muh ma fuckin parent'sadvice ta keep care o' myself an' muh ma fuckin apperance; I certainly stood out from da crowd!
The busses arrived, an' da great mass proceeded ta sheeit themselves in. Not
in any particular hurry I moved ta da back o' da second bus, an' made myself
comfortable. As da bus packed, uh rather fine ass ho picked me out, an' worked
her way ta da back ta join me.
She wore uh rather tight leather miniskirt, uh tank top, an' uh negroid leather
jacket; da exception ta da rule o' t-shirts an' messed up fro. From dis here
vantage I seen uh rather shapely ass an' thighs dressed in negroid fish-net
stockings, an' somethin' inside o' me awoke fo' da first tyme.
It wasn't like I hadn't ever seen uh ho 'bfoe. I had dated some in high
skoo. It just wuz, well, not in muh ma fuckin plans fo' da future. I be uh goal-
directed person; if it'stowards muh ma fuckin goal I be mo' agressive than most an' stubborn as uh mule. If it ain't in da direction I wants ta jet, however,
nuttin' can cause it ta capture muh ma fuckin interest.
But somethin' about da way she breathed wuz impressive. Her shape, her long
flaming red fro, da smell o' her purfume; I couldn't move, couldn't th'o't.
Something mo' primitive wuz trying ta rest da controls o' muh ma fuckin life away from me, an' I wasn't too certain I should give in. When she asked if she could
join me, I stammered "uh, sure", an' she giggled as she sat down an' snuggled
up next ta me. And muh ma fuckin poor mind fried.
Scotty, beam me up! Circuit overload! Red alert! (And as uh vision o' me
rubbing her thighs, or letting muh ma fuckin hand run itself up ta da fro between her legs.) She held muh ma fuckin hand an' asked if I wuz okay. I didn't know. The Volvo wuz sinking fast.
We arrived some thiddy minutes an' three thousand years later at da dock where
our boat would be taking da freshman class out ta da island. Gloria, still
holding muh ma fuckin hand an' chatting away about her family an' her niggas in high skoo, wuz still snuggled up very close ta me, an' I wuz stiff. Holding hands
wuz safe, but somethin' inside o' me wuz telling me dat it wasn't. The boat
arrived, we's moved ta dere, an' she sat herself on muh ma fuckin lap, holding on ta me as da boat moved towards it'sdestination.
Actually da boat ride wasn't too bad; muh ma fuckin mind havin' overloaded itself wiff da possibility dat dere may be mo' ta life than computers an' uh cosy
marriage in da distant future. I rubbed her back an' told her about da place
where I grew up; she held on ta me an' told me about her crib in Texas an' how
da waters in da ocean wuz so warm dat she'd jet swimming nude in da
moonlight.
Once da boat arrived, we's wuz seperated. The class seperated, wuz processed,
placed into they appropriate rooms or tents as da shit warranted, an'
sent on our way ta da lectures, meetings, an' group talks which wuz supposed
ta dominate our life fo' da next few days. Of course I wuz disappointed; fo'
da rest o' da day through lunch an' dinner I hoped ta meet Gloria an' hold
her hand, but o' course (my rational part told me) muh ma fuckin purpose at PacTech wuz ta study.
After dinner dere wuz uh "campfire". With two hundred peeps attending it's
rather hard ta sit around uh single fire an' be cozy; an' about an hour into
dis here listening ta kids jive about they science fair experiments an' how dey
wanted ta revolutionize Artificial Intelligence wiff da unique insight dey
possessed, I quietly left.
Behind da campsite dere iz uh hill called "Bible Peak." It iz uh hill about
two hundred feet up wiff uh cross o' wood at da top. It also possessed one o'
da bomb views o' da campsite an' da ocean below. In full moonlight I made
da hour trek ta da top o' da hill, where I found uh rock an' sat still,
watching da whitey waves crash below.
While contemplating da stars an' muh ma fuckin future I heard uh twig snap behind me. Startled, I turned around. A dark figure worked it'sway up da last 10 feet o' hill an' sat itself beside me, moon at it'sback. Without uh werd, it
started stroking muh ma fuckin fro an' face, relaxing me.
Gloria! I wuz happy ta see her ag'in, as I missed her company from da
morning bus trip. She stood over me, while stroking muh ma fuckin fro, an' started ta werk herself out o' her tank top.
I grabbed her hand. "Hang on," I said, "maybe we's should jive. I've never done
dis here 'bfoe. Can ya just sit here an' jive wiff me uh while?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know. Are ya okay?"
"Uh, jaa. You just take muh ma fuckin breath away. Sorry; I'm just new at dis here. Please forgive me. God yo' fine." I wuz in overload; dere wuz about uh dozen things I wanted ta tell her but dat wuz da bomb I could do.
She sat down next ta me an' held muh ma fuckin hand, an' we's talked some mo'. She had an interest in photography an' I told her how fine da moon an' ocean would be captured on film. I told her about da stars where I wuz from an' how if
ya wuz patient ya could make out da Milky Way. She asked me about muh ma fuckin lovers an' I admitted dere had been none; I wuz always interested in fufilling muh ma fuckin dreams, but I had ta admit I wasn't certain what dey wuz anymo'. We laughed, an' when she jet ta kiss me on da cheek, it seemed natural ta kiss her on da lips.
She let her hands glide over muh ma fuckin back an' I held her an' stroked her fro. She shivered when I ran muh ma fuckin fingernails down her back, an' experimentally, I let muh ma fuckin fingers run lower an' lower over her ass as well. I wispered in her ear, asking if she wuz aight, an' she responded by tumbling us both over onto da grass, her on top.
She pinned me down wiff her hands on muh ma fuckin elbows, an' laughed. "I've got ya now. What should I do wiff ya?" "Uh, whatever ya wish; you've got me, afta
all." To which, she started ta unbutton muh ma fuckin shirt an' kissing muh ma fuckin chest.
I worked her tank top off an' started rubbing da skin underneath. Her nipples
felt hard against muh ma fuckin bare chest, an' she gasped quietly when I ran muh ma fuckin fingers over dem. Perfectly shaped, she held one ta muh ma fuckin mouth an' I started licking it, first gently, then hard, pulling da enire nipple in wiff muh ma fuckin mouth an' pressed around da tip wiff muh ma fuckin toung.
Gloria picked her weight off o' muh ma fuckin hips an' worked her way around ta start taking muh ma fuckin pants off. I rotated towards her on muh ma fuckin side an' started rubbing her thighs. Allowing muh ma fuckin hands ta werk they way up her tight miniskirt, I found her pubic fro wet, though then I had nahh idea why.
After working muh ma fuckin pants off o' me, she licked muh ma fuckin stiff jimmy an' started sucking hard. What fragments o' muh ma fuckin mind dat survived up until then had been blown, wiff da smell o' her long red fro an' her firm ass in muh ma fuckin hands, muh ma fuckin hard jimmy in her mouth an' part ways down her throat.
She asked me then if I wanted ta make love. I said yeea , but I didn't know how.
"Don't worry; let me do da rollin'
ta da ground, an' sat herself on me, slowly working me inside. Holding muh ma fuckin wrists ta da ground, she rocked her hips back an' forth until I wuz all da
way in, an' rythmically she brought herself up an' down.
I wuz breathless. Gloria smiled at me an' shuddered, getting tighter an'
tighter around me wiff each pass. She rocked fo' several minutes, an' then
wiff some effort pushed herself upright, brushing her fro upright an' allowing
me full view o' her glorious chest. I reached up an' grabbed one, then da
other, an' circled her tits wiff da tips o' muh ma fuckin fingers, spiralling from da
outside ta da nipples. It seemed forever she rocked on top o' me, both o' us
moaning an' not carring who found us dere, until I exploded, an' fo' uh moment
her face shined in somethin' mo' than moonlight.
I asked her "Why me?" at some point during our lovemaking, an' she laughed,
saying "Your cute, an' I liked da way ya tried ta cover yo' shyness on da
boat ride over." After our lovemaking I held her in muh ma fuckin arms an' ran muh ma fuckin fingers down her back. By dis here tyme it mus' gots been midnight; da moon now low over da hills, an' she snuggled close, spoon fashion; dis here tyme fo' warmth.
My hands fell on her stomach, an' I drew circles around her bellybutton an'
across da top o' her pubic fro. Turned on by dis here I bit da back o' her neck
softly, an' ran muh ma fuckin fingers up an' down from her chest ta her crotch. Her back arched, pressing her ass against muh ma fuckin now stiffened member. Grabbing it, I pushed it forwards an' in, brushing her clit wiff muh ma fuckin fingers in da process. "May I cruize dis here tyme?"
She arched her back even mo', reaching around an' grabbing muh ma fuckin ass ta he`p me in deeper. I held her, one arm around her stomach, an' da other arm propping her head up an' holding her close. We rocked, I rollin' myself even deeper an' deeper as she moaned. I wuz sure we's mus' gots been heard, but I really didn't care; da only thin' dat mattered wuz dis here phat ho in muh ma fuckin arms, an' rollin' her as wild as I could.
She broke out in uh cold sweat all o' uh sudden, an' I felt uh wetness down below
dat wasn't from me. She then gasped, an' her grip on muh ma fuckin ass tightened as I exploded ag'in, clamping down on muh ma fuckin teeth ta keep from yelling at da top o' muh ma fuckin lungs.
We met every night on dat trip; each tyme in uh different location near da
campsite. She taught me da fundamentals o' sex, her shapely body infinitely
adaptable ta all o' about uh dozen different positions. And as we's sailed back
ta da mainland back ta skoo proper we's held each other at da front o' da
boat, her arm around muh ma fuckin waist an' on muh ma fuckin ass, an' muh ma fuckin arm around her body, hand inside o' her leather jacket.
It'sbeen almost seven years since muh ma fuckin introduction ta da mysteries. Gloria iz now married an' living somewhere on da east coast; I haven't seen her in
years. I now live alone in uh one bedroom apartment in Pasadena; somehow da
thought o' uh crib wiff uh wife an' kids, Volvo an' dog in da yard just don'
appeal ta me da same way as it did 'bfoe. It'snot uh goal da way it wuz fo'
me before; now it'sjust somethin' dat I might like ta gots someday.
I gots had quite uh few lovers since dat night; I've even been in uh few
manage-a-tois. With each lover I gots learned somethin' different about sex
an' making love; wiff each person sex iz different but always fly. But
fo' me, da first tyme wuz special, uh tyme dat I shall remember always.
Ya' know what I'm sayin'?
My friend says there is a lot of black people in Africa
All I wanted was a nice, safe, monogomous relationship.
Of course in high school I was a simple guy, a bit different from the rest of
the people where I grew up. I had a direction and a purpose; where most kids
were interested in going to parties and getting drunk (and maybe a peek if they
were lucky), I wanted to study and make something of myself.
You know the kind. Poor white trash tring to make something of himself; the
kid in the corner with the glasses held together by tape, calculator in hand.
If this were an earlier age, he'd be trying to read the little black numbers
off the slipstick; maybe in the future it's a laptop with holograms projecting
out of it's surface.
Except that I never wore glasses. My parents told me that in order to get
along in this life you need to dress well and look good, and who gives a damn
about your brains. So I'm just shy of 6 feet tall and fairly well built; I
even play waterpolo when sufficiently drunk enough not to care. But my desire
was to be a professional, perhaps a systems analyst, with a nice wife and a
couple of kids. The dog in the front yard and the Volvo in the garage is
optional, of course.
When I was admitted into Pacific Tech, I was elated. All the hard study and
good grades allowed me into one of the toughest schools in the state. Yes, the
place had a 6 to 1 ratio male to female, but I was only there to study. As
soon as I figured out what I wanted to do with my life, and as soon as I
graduated to a successful job I would go about finding that nice woman who I
could marry and live happily ever after with. My life was progressing quite
nicely, thank you, and on the path I forordained for myself.
One of the first things that happens at PacTech (as we all knew the place) was
"Freshman Camp", a place where all the students went to learn about the honor
code and meet the various fraternities. It's generally a three day affair
which takes place in a small cove just south of Avon on Santa Catalina Island.
We all gathered in the middle of the student houses for the bus ride out. The
freshman class, about 200 students, brought their gear out and waited. Looking
around I found more than a sufficient supply of calculators hanging from nerdy
guy's belts to satisfy the computational requirement of any one of NASA's space
probes. I was glad for my parent's advice to keep care of myself and my
apperance; I certainly stood out from the crowd!
The busses arrived, and the great mass proceeded to stuff themselves in. Not
in any particular hurry I moved to the back of the second bus, and made myself
comfortable. As the bus packed, a rather pretty girl picked me out, and worked
her way to the back to join me.
She wore a rather tight leather miniskirt, a tank top, and a black leather
jacket; the exception to the rule of t-shirts and messed up hair. From this
vantage I saw a rather shapely ass and thighs dressed in black fish-net
stockings, and something inside of me awoke for the first time.
It wasn't like I hadn't ever seen a girl before. I had dated some in high
school. It just was, well, not in my plans for the future. I am a goal-
directed person; if it's towards my goal I am more agressive than most and
stubborn as a mule. If it isn't in the direction I want to go, however,
nothing can cause it to capture my interest.
But something about the way she breathed was impressive. Her shape, her long
flaming red hair, the smell of her purfume; I couldn't move, couldn't think.
Something more primitive was trying to rest the controls of my life away from
me, and I wasn't too certain I should give in. When she asked if she could
join me, I stammered "uh, sure", and she giggled as she sat down and snuggled
up next to me. And my poor mind fried.
Scotty, beam me up! Circuit overload! Red alert! (And as a vision of me
rubbing her thighs, or letting my hand run itself up to the hair between her
legs.) She held my hand and asked if I was okay. I didn't know. The Volvo
was sinking fast.
We arrived some thirty minutes and three thousand years later at the dock where
our boat would be taking the freshman class out to the island. Gloria, still
holding my hand and chatting away about her family and her friends in high
school, was still snuggled up very close to me, and I was stiff. Holding hands
was safe, but something inside of me was telling me that it wasn't. The boat
arrived, we moved to there, and she sat herself on my lap, holding on to me as
the boat moved towards it's destination.
Actually the boat ride wasn't too bad; my mind having overloaded itself with
the possibility that there may be more to life than computers and a cosy
marriage in the distant future. I rubbed her back and told her about the place
where I grew up; she held on to me and told me about her house in Texas and how
the waters in the ocean were so warm that she'd go swimming nude in the
moonlight.
Once the boat arrived, we were seperated. The class seperated, was processed,
placed into their appropriate rooms or tents as the situation warranted, and
sent on our way to the lectures, meetings, and group talks which were supposed
to dominate our life for the next few days. Of course I was disappointed; for
the rest of the day through lunch and dinner I hoped to meet Gloria and hold
her hand, but of course (my rational part told me) my purpose at PacTech was to
study.
After dinner there was a "campfire". With two hundred people attending it's
rather hard to sit around a single fire and be cozy; and about an hour into
this listening to kids talk about their science fair experiments and how they
wanted to revolutionize Artificial Intelligence with the unique insight they
possessed, I quietly left.
Behind the campsite there is a hill called "Bible Peak." It is a hill about
two hundred feet up with a cross of wood at the top. It also possessed one of
the best views of the campsite and the ocean below. In full moonlight I made
the hour trek to the top of the hill, where I found a rock and sat still,
watching the white waves crash below.
While contemplating the stars and my future I heard a twig snap behind me.
Startled, I turned around. A dark figure worked it's way up the last 10 feet
of hill and sat itself beside me, moon at it's back. Without a word, it
started stroking my hair and face, relaxing me.
Gloria! I was happy to see her again, as I missed her company from the
morning bus trip. She stood over me, while stroking my hair, and started to
work herself out of her tank top.
I grabbed her hand. "Hang on," I said, "maybe we should talk. I've never done
this before. Can you just sit here and talk with me a while?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know. Are you okay?"
"Uh, yeah. You just take my breath away. Sorry; I'm just new at this. Please
forgive me. God your beautiful." I was in overload; there were about a dozen
things I wanted to tell her but that was the best I could do.
She sat down next to me and held my hand, and we talked some more. She had an
interest in photography and I told her how beautiful the moon and ocean would
be captured on film. I told her about the stars where I was from and how if
you were patient you could make out the Milky Way. She asked me about my
lovers and I admitted there had been none; I was always interested in fufilling
my dreams, but I had to admit I wasn't certain what they were anymore. We
laughed, and when she went to kiss me on the cheek, it seemed natural to kiss
her on the lips.
She let her hands glide over my back and I held her and stroked her hair. She
shivered when I ran my fingernails down her back, and experimentally, I let my
fingers run lower and lower over her ass as well. I wispered in her ear,
asking if she was alright, and she responded by tumbling us both over onto the
grass, her on top.
She pinned me down with her hands on my elbows, and laughed. "I've got you
now. What should I do with you?" "Uh, whatever you wish; you've got me, after
all." To which, she started to unbutton my shirt and kissing my chest.
I worked her tank top off and started rubbing the skin underneath. Her nipples
felt hard against my bare chest, and she gasped quietly when I ran my fingers
over them. Perfectly shaped, she held one to my mouth and I started licking
it, first gently, then hard, pulling the enire nipple in with my mouth and
pressed around the tip with my toung.
Gloria picked her weight off of my hips and worked her way around to start
taking my pants off. I rotated towards her on my side and started rubbing her
thighs. Allowing my hands to work their way up her tight miniskirt, I found
her pubic hair wet, though then I had no idea why.
After working my pants off of me, she licked my stiff cock and started sucking
hard. What fragments of my mind that survived up until then had been blown,
with the smell of her long red hair and her firm ass in my hands, my hard
cock in her mouth and part ways down her throat.
She asked me then if I wanted to make love. I said yes, but I didn't know how.
"Don't worry; let me do the driving." She unfastened her skirt and let it drop
to the ground, and sat herself on me, slowly working me inside. Holding my
wrists to the ground, she rocked her hips back and forth until I was all the
way in, and rythmically she brought herself up and down.
I was breathless. Gloria smiled at me and shuddered, getting tighter and
tighter around me with each pass. She rocked for several minutes, and then
with some effort pushed herself upright, brushing her hair upright and allowing
me full view of her glorious chest. I reached up and grabbed one, then the
other, and circled her tits with the tips of my fingers, spiralling from the
outside to the nipples. It seemed forever she rocked on top of me, both of us
moaning and not carring who found us there, until I exploded, and for a moment
her face shined in something more than moonlight.
I asked her "Why me?" at some point during our lovemaking, and she laughed,
saying "Your cute, and I liked the way you tried to cover your shyness on the
boat ride over." After our lovemaking I held her in my arms and ran my fingers
down her back. By this time it must have been midnight; the moon now low over
the hills, and she snuggled close, spoon fashion; this time for warmth.
My hands fell on her stomach, and I drew circles around her bellybutton and
across the top of her pubic hair. Turned on by this I bit the back of her neck
softly, and ran my fingers up and down from her chest to her crotch. Her back
arched, pressing her ass against my now stiffened member. Grabbing it, I
pushed it forwards and in, brushing her clit with my fingers in the process.
"May I drive this time?"
She arched her back even more, reaching around and grabbing my ass to help me
in deeper. I held her, one arm around her stomach, and the other arm propping
her head up and holding her close. We rocked, I driving myself even deeper and
deeper as she moaned. I was sure we must have been heard, but I really didn't
care; the only thing that mattered was this sexy girl in my arms, and driving
her as wild as I could.
She broke out in a cold sweat all of a sudden, and I felt a wetness down below
that wasn't from me. She then gasped, and her grip on my ass tightened as I
exploded again, clamping down on my teeth to keep from yelling at the top of my
lungs.
We met every night on that trip; each time in a different location near the
campsite. She taught me the fundamentals of sex, her shapely body infinitely
adaptable to all of about a dozen different positions. And as we sailed back
to the mainland back to school proper we held each other at the front of the
boat, her arm around my waist and on my ass, and my arm around her body, hand
inside of her leather jacket.
It's been almost seven years since my introduction to the mysteries. Gloria
is now married and living somewhere on the east coast; I haven't seen her in
years. I now live alone in a one bedroom apartment in Pasadena; somehow the
thought of a house with a wife and kids, Volvo and dog in the yard just doesn't
appeal to me the same way as it did before. It's not a goal the way it was for
me before; now it's just something that I might like to have someday.
I have had quite a few lovers since that night; I've even been in a few
manage-a-tois. With each lover I have learned something different about sex
and making love; with each person sex is different but always wonderful. But
for me, the first time was special, a time that I shall remember always.
Jim Woban stared at the screen of his word processor and
tried again to make words appear. Sometimes it was too frustra-
ting to bear. A story would begin and take itself through chap-
ters of action, romance and mystery, and then leave him aban-
doned, suddenly without words or inspiration, only a deadline for
his tyrannical editor, Jake, or Arnie, his parasite of an agent!
He caught himself and mentally chastised his thoughts. Both
men had been more than fair and helped him through the rough
times of his divorce, extending time and money when they would
have been more than justified in leaving him in a pool of self-
pity and cheap Scotch.
It had only been a few months, seven, to be exact, that he
had suddenly found himself single, his net worth dramatically
reduced, and his world in a total shambles. Since then, he had
sold the house, invested as much of the money as he could (thanks
to Arnie's nagging) and moved to this rented room to finish the
novel Jake had commissioned at some jeopardy to his own position.
His publishing house disliked large advances to lush writers
whose past efforts were slightly above mediocre!
In the kitchen below him, he could hear Katie Sorben moving
about cooking dinner for her husband and their boarder. Katie and
Karl were in their early thirties, but had only been married a
few years; both had been married before. Karl was a machinist at
a local plant and Katie worked 6 A.M. to Noon at a bakery. They
had bought a large house with a large mortgage and found they had
to take in a boarder to make ends meet. Their ad had hit the
paper two months after Jim's life jumped into the dumper.
Ten years their senior, he lived quietly and tried not to
interfere in their daily lives, with the exception of the dinner
meal. Lately, Karl had been inviting him to join them watching
the Sunday football games and Katie had extended the invitation
to other T.V. shows during the week. They were cheerful and po-
lite, neither of them prying into his private affairs or pressing
their own business on him.
Sometimes he would hear them arguing with one another like
any other married couple, but in most cases, life in the Sorben
household went along on an even keel. From time to time, he would
hear the unmistakable sounds of their lovemaking. Katie, he
noted, was a "squealer" and, apparently, Karl gave her something
to squeal about.
After his divorce, the thought of any type of romantic or
sexual encounter chilled him thoroughly. True, Katie's muffled
squeals sometimes sent him into an Onanistic fantasy, but he
channeled his efforts and energies into his work. He grinned as
he reread a portion he had written one evening when she and Karl
had been especially loud. He wondered if she would ever guess she
had been the inspiration for one of the juicier situations in his
novel.
It was not difficult to let his mind wander as he thought of
her tight, chunky figure moving about the kitchen under her
kimono. Katie was not terribly buxom, but her breasts and but-
tocks moved freely when she wore nothing under her robe. She was
not flagrant but she carried an understated sexuality that seemed
to always suggest something more than met the eye. A slight lift
to an eyebrow, a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth -
there was just something about her Jim could only classify as
sexy.
Karl, on the other hand, was tall, lanky and outgoing. He
liked to laugh and yet, retained a sort of privacy Jim could ap-
preciate. To Jim's pleasant surprise, he found that the man's
lack of formal schooling had not prevented him from being rather
well-read and quite sensitive. A T.V. tear-jerker could bring
tears to his eyes and he made no apologies. Jim grew to like him
quickly and Karl seemed to return the feeling.
The three of them lived together quietly, contentedly and
peacefully.
Until the afternoon Katie dropped the butter.
He had been trying to write, but was in a dead end. Hearing
Katie preparing dinner, he decided to take a break and get a cold
soda before trying to do anymore. In the kitchen, Katie was busi-
ly getting out the ingredients for a Bundt cake when he walked
in. She was wearing a short robe, as she often did in the after-
noons. Usually, after work, she went out somewhere, came home and
showered, started dinner, and then went upstairs to dress before
they sat down to eat. The sight of Katie in a short kimono was
certainly pleasant, but it was nothing new.
As Jim entered the kitchen, Katie dropped a quarter pound
bar of butter on the floor.
"Shit!" she exclaimed, and bent over to pick it up, still
balancing a measuring cup of milk in one hand.
As she bent over, her robe slid up to clearly expose the
naked cheeks of her behind and the fur covered lips of her pussy.
Jim stood frozen as she picked up the butter and put it back on
the counter. Then she turned and saw him.
She must have known by the look on his face what he had
seen, but she looked directly at him with a half-smile.
"It was the last damned butter in the house!" she said.
He swallowed hard.
"Want me to run out and get some more?"
"No. I'll let Karl pick some up on his way home. I'll use
shortening for the cake. I just hate to have to clean up this
greasy mess," she said indicating where the remnants of the but-
ter showed clearly on the floor.
Taking a cloth from the counter, she turned again to bend
down and wipe the floor, and again her robe slipped up to expose
her behind. Jim's eyes opened wide as he watched.
"How does it look?" she asked him.
He stood tongue-tied.
"The floor," she said. "Did I get it all?"
"Yeah!" Jim answered. "It looks good. Real Good."
Katie burst into a fit of laughter.
"You're something else," she roared. "Wait 'til Karl hears
this one!"
Jim was mortified. He never intended to spy on the woman,
let alone get involved in a confrontation with her husband.
"I...I'm sorry!" he stammered. "I just wanted a drink. I
didn't mean to..."
"Oh, Jim!" she laughed. "Don't worry. You don't know Karl.
He'll get as big a kick out of it as I do. You've got to be the
shiest man I've ever seen! And besides, I'm kind of flattered you
liked looking at me. You did, didn't you?"
"Well, sure. I guess," Jim stammered. "I'm a little con-
fused, Katie. What's going on?"
"Don't be. Sit down," she said as she poured a soda for him.
"You've been here almost four months and you haven't been out of
the house once. Socially, I mean. You're an attractive man, Jim.
You should be seeing people. You can bring women here if you
want. Karl and I don't mind."
"I just don't have time," he muttered.
"Balls! All you're doing is making yourself horny as a goat.
i saw the way you've been watching me. It's all right, of course,
but you should be getting out. Karl thinks so too."
"I really don;t know anybody, Katie. And I was never real
great at the singles scene. I'm sorry if I seem to be staring at
you too much. I'll be more discreet from now on."
Katie suddenly threw open her robe and exposed her small
breasts.
"How's that for discreet!" she challenged. "Hell, Jim, Karl
and I don't care if you want to look at me, it's just that you're
a nice guy and you shouldn't be depriving yourself of sex just
because you had a bad time once. I mean, we're really concerned
about you."
Jim could not believe what she was saying, but continued to
stare at her breasts. The nipples were small and brown and poin-
ty. Her breasts were soft and well-shaped with just a little sag
that made them all the more attractive. All he could think of was
how they would feel between his lips. It had been so, so long!
"Jim, come back," she called and pulled her robe closed.
"You're farther gone than I'd thought. Maybe Karl was right."
Jim shook his head.
"What do you mean? Right about what?"
She blushed and glanced at him with a look that he felt go
all the way to his groin.
"Oh, nothing," she said. "Well, not nothing, but..."
She got up and walked across the kitchen to one of the cup-
boards.
"Do me a favor?" she asked. "Reach up and get me that cake
pan, would you?"
The pan was on the very highest shelf and when he reached up
to get it, he had to balance himself on tiptoe while he worked
the pan from under a pile of other things.
Without warning, he felt her hand grope his crotch.
"God damn!" he exploded.
"Don't drop anything!" she warned.
"What the Hell are you doing?" he demanded.
"I just wanted to see something, that's all. I didn't hurt
you, did I?"
Jim extracted the pan and regained his composure.
"I don't know if I'm ready for this," he gasped. "You're a
beautiful woman, Katie, but I don't want Karl kicking my ass for
messing around with his wife."
Katie laughed and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
"Don't worry about that. You liked it, didn't you?"
"That's not the point."
"Of course it is," she told him. "We're going to have to get
you taken care of, and that's all there is to it."
Jim considered skipping dinner that evening, but decided it
would be best to face the music.
Karl was in a particularly good humor as Jim joined them at
the table. To his dismay, though, Katie had not changed, but
still wore the abbreviated robe and, very obviously, nothing
else. Karl, too, wore a Japanese-style Hopi jacket belted with a
sash. It bore the same design as Katie's, a large red butterfly
in a circle of yellow. He was sitting down, but it struck Jim
that he probably wore nothing else, as well!
"Katie tells me you two had quite a day," Karl announced
shortly after they had begun eating. "Now you can see just why I
married her. Cutest little ass in captivity. How about it?"
Jim nodded silently and looked from one to the other.
Karl laughed and reached over to pat Jim's shoulder reas-
suringly.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to jump you for admiring my
wife's body. If I did that, I'd be jumping most of the men in
this town. We're just worried about you, Jim. I told her she
should trim your tree, but she didn't think you'd want to go
along with it. Why don't you let us fix you up with a friend of
ours?"
"I...I don't think so," Jim began.
"C'mon, Jim!" Katie urged. "Susan's a nice person. You'll
like her. It's not like you're going to the Senior Prom, after
all!"
"You might even get lucky," Karl added with a wink toward
his wife.
Jim shrugged. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a
woman and seeing Katie had not made things any easier.
"What's she like?" he asked.
"Nice," Katie offered. "You'll like her."
"She's a lot of fun and decent looking, too," Karl added.
"She's divorced and horny. Just like you," Katie giggled.
"And best of all, she's a Butterfly," Karl declared.
Jim waited for him to explain. When he failed to elaborate,
Jim asked, "What's a Butterfly?"
Karl held out his right hand and showed Jim a small ring. It
bore the same butterfly design that he and Katie wore on their
robes. Katie held out her hand and showed him hers. It was iden-
tical to Karl's.
"We met each other through Butterfly," she told him. "It's a
special group of people. That's all."
"What do they do?" he asked.
Karl laughed and told him, "More later. Tomorrow Susan and
then, who knows? The important thing is to get you out of your
funk and back into the world."
"I suppose so," Jim sighed. "But for now, I have a book to
finish or I'm going to be very, very far behind in the rent."
"Is it like Beauregard Flats?" Karl asked.
"You read it?"
"I'm just finishing it now. I didn't know you wrote it until
I saw your picture on the jacket. I didn't know we had a celeb-
rity in the house!"
"According to my editor, you don't. And if I don't start
getting some ideas working, you never will!"
"Where do you get ideas from?" Katie asked.
"Life, I guess," Jim told her.
"Wasn't Beau Flats a bisexual?" Karl asked.
"Yes. That was the point of the whole thing."
"I mean, some of the scenes you wrote were really realistic.
I thought you said you wrote from experience!"
Katie giggled as Jim squirmed.
"I also have a good imagination," he assured them.
Karl grinned at him.
After dinner he went back to his room and continued to
write. The words came a little better, but not the way he liked
them. It was nearly 11 when he heard a light knock on the door.
He went to open it and found Katie in a sheer baby doll nightie
very visibly without bottoms.
"I saw your light and wondered if you wanted anything," she
told him.
He looked at her dark nipples and the triangle of her pubic
patch showing through the sheer fabric and licked his lips.
"I mean from the kitchen," she said impishly. "Karl's a-
sleep, but I feel like making some hot chocolate. Want me to
bring you some?"
"That sounds good," he replied. "Let me turn this computer
off and I'll come down with you."
They walked down the hallway to the stairs. Katie turned to
him and put her fingers to her lips with a little giggle just as
they passed the doorway to her and Karl's bedroom. Her naked hus-
band lay sprawled across the bed, snoring lightly. The shiny
spots on his stomach and penis gave ample evidence of what had
exhausted him. The bottoms of Katie's baby dolls lay crumpled on
the floor.
Jim's eyes took in everything in the room, but dwelled on
Karl's penis as the man slept. It was soft and curled, not pro-
digiously large, but smooth and white-looking framed by a mane of
light hair. Jim Woban was no fag, but seeing the naked man sleep-
ing while his nearly naked wife led him down to the kitchen
stirred an odd excitement deep inside him.
At the bottom of the stairs, Katie stopped suddenly and
turned too fast for Jim to stop in time and he came up hard a-
gainst her. Instinctively, he reached out to keep her from
falling and felt her warm flesh through the sheer nightie as his
hand lay spread across her behind.
"Mm!" she murmured. "Is that for me or Karl?"
She rubbed hard against his growing erection.
"What do you think?" he whispered hoarsely.
"I think that if you don't fuck something pretty soon,
you're going to explode!" she told him.
Jim kissed her deeply and felt her small body moving against
his, her hand snaking its way between them to open his zipper and
slip inside expertly. He slid both hands down under the nightie
and smoothed them up to cup and knead her bare ass. His penis was
out of his pants now and he was aware of the cool air moving a-
cross it as she stroked it gently back and forth.
Without letting go, she led him into the living room and sat
down on the couch. Closing her eyes, she took the head of his
cock into her mouth and savored it gently, running her tongue
beneath it and milking what juices she could eke from him.
Stretching the skin back tightly, she slid more into her mouth
sucking and tonguing him at the same time. The feeling was exqui-
site and he felt himself quickly building to a climax.
It was coming too fast and he forced himself to pull away
from her. She looked up at him with a frown, but soon smiled a-
gain as he dropped to his knees and pushed her thighs apart. He
looked at the swollen lips of her pussy and saw the pink tip of
her clitoris winking at him. He did not hesitate, fastened his
lips to it at laved it with his tongue. He slid down to lick the
pink inner lips and reamed her vagina with his tongue. Her thighs
wrapped around his head and he smelled and tasted the strong
scent of Karl's come still dripping from within her. A rush of
desire overwhelmed him and licked and sucked at her pussy fur-
iously making loud slurping sounds as he heard her whimpering
softly in the far, far distance.
She came in a rush with her legs spread wide and her hands
pulling his face deeper into her cunt. She thrusted her pelvis
against him and made rough gutteral sounds as her climax rolled
over her again and again. Before she could subside, Jim crawled
up and slipped his cock into her deeply. He came almost immed-
iately, great gobs of come spurting into her as he gasped for the
sheer pleasure that overwhelmed him.
"Karl was right," Katie said as she leaned back with a con-
tented smile. "You really are Butterfly material. I'd better keep
my eye on you two!"
"What are you talking about?"
"That's O.K., Jim. I love bisexual men. Hell, I'm a Butter-
fly too, aren't I?"
Jim was too confused and exhausted to press it any further.
He leaned back and his cheek came in contact with the inside of
her thigh. It was wet with their fluids running out of her. Her
hand caressing the back of his neck, however, told him she was
far from done. Surprisingly enough, neither was he!
"Eat me and I'll suck you off," she whispered fiercely as
she urged his face into her bush.
The familiar taste of his come overshadowed even the sweet
taste of her as he slowly licked her. He ran his tongue expertly
up and down the line from her clitoris to her ass, stopping to
swirl his tongue here or gently suck on something soft there.
Without lifting his lips, he pressed three fingers inside her and
tickled her asshole with his thumb. Moments later, he was re-
warded by spasms shaking her as she came again.
"You're good!" she told him. "Susan will love you!"
"You think so?"
"So will Karl. He already told me so."
"Whoa!"
Katie laughed.
"Don't play innocent with me," she told him. "I saw how you
licked up his come out of me. Besides, Karl told me you couldn't
have written what you did unless you had done it. You have, have-
n't you?"
"I think you have a mistaken impression of me," he told her.
"I'm not a fag."
"Of course not. I'm not a Lez but sometimes I like a little
variety. C'mon, how about I suck you off right now? You and Karl
can sort things out later."
She slid to the floor on her knees and captured Jim's limp
penis and balls between her hands. Leaving slick trails of sali-
va, she licked them over and over.
"I love to taste pussy on a cock," she told him breathlessly
and went back to her task.
He felt her suck his soft cock into her mouth and reached
down to massage her small breasts. The nipples were as hard as
tiny stones, but her breasts were soft and pliable. Her mouth
worked busily at her penis and he felt the blood beginning to
flow into it as it slowly filled her mouth. As it rose to its
full length, she sucked it in and out, running a wet finger in
and out of his asshole with each stroke. Only one other person
had ever done that to him and he squeezed his eyes closed, trying
to fend off the memory.
He and Chuck were fifteen when they spent the summer at
Chuck's parents' place on the bay. They fished and swam and
talked about girls and sex and all the things they talked about
any other time. Somehow their conversation changed during the
overnight fishing trip they took.
It was very hot that night, and after building a campfire to
cook the canned stew they brought, they had gone down to the
river to cool off. There was no one within miles and Chuck had
dared him to go skinny-dipping. After their swim they had gone
back to the camp without dressing and sat beside the fire. Jim
noticed that Chuck's penis was stiff and erect, and his rose,
too. Chuck noticed it immediately.
"Christ! You have a monster!" he exclaimed.
"Large women and small cows," Jim responded.
"Do you jerk off much?" Chuck asked suddenly. "I do every
day. Sometimes twice or three times."
Jim's breath caught in his throat.
"Sometimes," he said quietly.
"I like to pretend I'm fucking Barbie Holland," Chuck went
on. "Sometimes I pretend she's sucking me off."
Jim did not answer. He was watching Chuck's hand slowly pul-
ling on his cock. Barbie Holland was a girl a year older than
them who had the earned reputation of being an easy lay. Neither
boy had ever had a woman, but Barbie Holland was a mutual goal.
"Do you want to see me?" Chuck asked.
Jim nodded. He was holding his own cock by now. It was very
sensitive and he stroked it self-consciously. Chuck, however,
picked up tempo and was chafing his cock with a vengeance. Sud-
denly he stopped.
"Hey, Jim. Did you ever do it with another guy? Jerk each
other off, I mean?" he asked in a conspiratorial tone.
Jim shook his head.
"Hey! I will if you will," Chuck said, fear quavering in his
voice.
Holding Chuck's cock was a different experience. It was not
at all like holding his own. For one thing, it was smaller and
thinner, although his balls hung large and full. They stroked
each other awkwardly until Chuck made them stop and then changed
position so he could concentrate on jerking off Jim's cock.
"It's so big," he said. "Have you ever had anybody suck it?"
Jim nodded a lie.
"How was it?"
"Great. It really felt good."
"I'll bet it did. God, I never had it. I never did it
either. How about you?"
"No," Jim said. "I never sucked anybody before."
They were quiet for awhile and then Chuck laid back and let
Jim jerk him off. Neither one had come.
"Jim?"
"What?"
"What did it feel like?"
"What?"
"Getting sucked."
"It's hard to describe."
"I don't see what's so bad about it."
"Getting sucked?"
"No. The other way around. Sucking a guy's dick."
"Everybody calls you 'queer' and all. And no girls want to
have anything to do with you."
"Jim, I wouldn't tell if a guy sucked my dick. Would you?"
"I guess not."
"I mean, if I did it to you, would you tell? I wouldn't tell
on you."
"No," said Jim. It was almost a whisper.
In the end, Chuck had gone first and taken the head of Jim's
cock in his mouth for a few seconds.
"Your turn," he said.
Jim leaned down and slowly sucked Chuck's thin cock into his
mouth. There was no taste, just the smooth sensation of the boy's
penis throbbing on his tongue. He pulled his head away just as
the white jism began to shoot out. One glob landed on his lips
and he tasted it.
"You bastard!" he shouted.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it!" Chuck pleaded. "Look, don't
get mad. I'll let you come on my lips if it makes you feel bet-
ter. Here, let me do it to you again!"
Jim had held himself back while the boy sucked in earnest
drawing as much of Jim's cock in is mouth as he could. Then,
without any warning, he had let go and shot his wad in Chuck's
mouth. To his surprise, the other boy did not pull away but con-
tinued to suck and swallow.
"It tastes kind of like mine," Chuck confided moments later.
"I always taste my come when I jerk off. Sometimes I try to catch
it in my mouth. How about you?"
Jim shook his head, but the thought excited him.
They promised absolute secrecy again and sucked each other
off, coming in one another's mouth and licking each other's
balls. They arrived back at he house the following afternoon,
complaining about the poor fishing and how the mosquitoes had
kept them awake all night. The heads of both cocks were red and
chafed from the continuous abuse they had received and both boys
went to bed and slept for hours.
Neither of them mentioned their summer to anyone else and
after the start of school, they never repeated the interludes
they enjoyed that summer. They had tried everything they had ever
heard about, though, enjoying some things and abandoning the
things that did not suit them. As Katie's finger probed his ass-
hole, he thought of Chuck's mouth sucking in and out while his
fingers tickled Jim's balls and ass. It had been fun, but the
guilt came years later as his thoughts went back unbidden to that
summer. He was not queer and did not like the self-accusations
that he, indeed, might be.
The fingers felt good though, and he spread his legs as
Katie inserted two more. He and Chuck had taken turns fucking one
another, but he had not liked the burning sensation of another
man's cock in his ass. He had never repeated it, but Chuck had
asked for it again and again. He had obliged the boy, driving his
cock far into the smooth white ass while he massaged Chuck's
prick and balls, making Chuck come over and over, and shooting
his own jism deep into the boy.
As his memories came flooding back, the sensations Katie
were stirring began to have an effect. He began to feel another
orgasm building, amplified by her working tongue and her busy
fingers. Suddenly she stopped and stood up.
"Lie down," she said urgently and crawled over his face even
before he had fully complied.
With her forearms, she spread his legs wide and swallowed
his cock once more,her fingers sliding back to his ass. Her pussy
rubbed hard against his mouth and he burrowed his lips into it to
catch the rich aroma of pussy mixed with the taste of his come.
He sucked and licked, feeling her pulling another orgasm from his
balls. Finally, he exploded once more in her mouth as she humped
and ground her pussy against his face.
He had a mountain of coke and a nigger for a lover.
source text from dolphinsex.org
Firstly, introductions all round. My name is [removed to protect dolphinlovers], musician, pre-vet student and Delphinic Zoophile. People are often wondering just what the hell zoophilia is. Zoophilia is best described as a love of animals so intimate that the person (and the animal) involved have no objections to expressing their affection for each other in the sexual fashion. This is not to be confused with bestiality, where a person forcefully mates an animal, without their consent, and with no mutual feelings whatsoever. This is something that I would never do to a dolphin, since I love them dearly, and treat them with the same respect that an honest husband would have for his wife and children.
Dolphins are very intelligent, highly emotional and expressive creatures. They enjoy the company of humans, and if a relationship develops between a human and a dolphin, as has happened with me, they will, on occasion, wish to express their trust and affection for you in the most direct way; through mating, or sex-play. You see, dolphins do not use sex purely for procreative reasons. They use it as a way of strengthening the bonds between pod mates (mothers and calves included), and also for fun. Dolphins and humans share this common trait with very few other animals, so sometimes it makes me wonder when people continue to ask me "How DO you mate with a dolphin?". Easy. Let the dolphin tell you!
Well, here is a selection of questions people have asked me, so I hope this sheds some light on the subject...
Q1) How do I tell a male dolphin from a female one?
A1) Probably the most common question I get asked. There are 2 ways of determining the sex of a dolphin. The most obvious way is to take a peek under the peduncle (the long part of the body connected to the tail flukes). On the dolphin's belly, directly opposite the dorsal fin, will be the umbilicus, or the navel of the dolphin. Looking further down towards the tail, you start to see the differences.
Male dolphins have two separate slits for the penis (the urogenital opening) and the anus. These are separated by a bridge of skin. The male's urogenital opening is generally located further up the belly, towards the navel.
Females, on the other fin, have one continuous larger slit, the anus located at the end of it. On either side of the genital slit, you will find two smaller slits; these are the mammary slits, where the nipples of the dolphin are kept for feeding the calves. The slit is also located closer to the tail stock of the dolphin.
The other way to determine the sex of a dolphin, if you can't reach their belly, is to look at their mellon, or head. The males tend to have a fatter, rounder mellon, while the females are more sleek and streamlined.
Q2) How do I know if a dolphin wants to have sex?
A2) There are various ways a dolphin has of showing that she or he is interested in sex.
Males are probably the easiest to detect. They will swim around, sporting an erection (anywhere between 10 to 14 inches long for a Bottle-nose), and will have no bones about swimming up to you and placing their member within reach of your hand. If you are in the water, they may rub it along any part of your body, or wrap it around your wrist or ankle. (Dolphin males have a prehensile penis. They can wrap it around objects, and carry them as such.) Their belly will also be pinkish in colour, which also denotes sexual excitement.
Females can be a little harder. The most obvious way a female dolphin has of displaying her sexual interest is the pink-belly effect. Their genitals become very pink and swollen, making the genital region very prominent. They may be restless, or they may be acting as normal. If you are out of the water, they may swim up to you and roll belly up, exposing themselves to you, coupled with pelvic thrusts. If you are in the water, they may press their genitals up against yours, nibble your fingers, nuzzle your crotch, or do pelvic thrusts against you.
Each dolphins way of expressing sexual readiness varies, so the longer you know the dolphin, the better you will detect when they are sexually active.
Q3) What do I do if a dolphin wants to mate with me?
A3) Accept, if possible! I will go through the steps involved with males and females...
The Male:
When a male dolphin is interested in you, about the only thing you can do, if you are male, is to masturbate him. (Unfortunately, I cannot speak for the female of the human species... it seems women just don't like dolphins enough... so I cannot say for sure if it is safe to mate with them. I would suspect not, due to a dolphins size, but then again, I cannot say for a woman.)
WARNING! In the considerations of safety, you should NEVER let a male dolphin attempt anal sex with you. The Bottle-nose dolphin member is around 12 inches, very muscular, and the thrusting and the force of ejaculation (A male can come as far as 14 feet) would cause serious internal injuries, resulting in peritonitus and possible death. Unless you are the masochistic type, you will have a hard time explaining your predicament to the doctors in the emergency ward....
A male dolphin's member is roughly S-shaped, tapered at the end. If you are in the water with them, it is best to support the dolphin on his side, just under the water, with one hand, and handle him with the other. Male dolphins, I find, tend to prefer the base of the penis to be gently massaged and squeezed, as well as gently rubbed along it's length. It feels very much like the rest of the dolphin (ie. smooth and rubbery to the touch, but firmer). It doesn't take long for the male to ejaculate, around 40 seconds to a minute, and this is usually accompanied by either shuddering just prior to ejaculating, and thrusting and tail-arching during ejaculation. The force of ejaculation can be powerful at times, so it is best to keep your face out of the line of fire, or keep his member underwater. You can attempt to lick and suck on the end of it while masturbating as well, but be warned, do not try to give full throat, and get the hell out of the way before he ejaculates! A male dolphin could snap your neck in a accidental thrust, and that would be the end of that relationship.
The Female:
Well, the females are again a little trickier. There are two courses of action with a female fin: Masturbation, or mating.
Masturbation: Female dolphins, once they show interest in you, can be supported in much the same way as the male, one hand under the fin, supporting her, the other doing the stimulating. The clitoris of the female is located at the top of the genital slit, and is a prominent lump when erect. You can rub this with your finger tips, or lick and suck it, but with the oral aspect, you might end up with a bruised nose as they thrust up into you. You can slide your hand gently into their genital opening, and feel around inside, rubbing gently. They feel warm and muscular inside, their labia like tough, squishy sponge when they are excited. Don't be surprised if they start to play with your hand inside them. They have very manipulative muscles, and can use them to carry and manipulate objects, including your hand. (They can do things that would make a regular human woman turn green with envy.) Their climax is coupled with stiffening, shuddering, sometimes a lot of thrusting, clinching of the vaginal muscles, and sometimes vocalization.
Mating: This is harder. Obviously, being human, it is awkward, but not impossible to mate in open water. It is easier to have the dolphin in a shallow area (like the shallows just off the beach) around 1 1/2 to 2 feet deep. This is usually comfortable enough for both the dolphin and you. Gently, you should roll the dolphin on her side, so she is lying belly-towards you. You can prop yourself up on an elbow, and lie belly to belly against her. You may want to use the other arm to gently hold her close, and place the tip of your member against her genital slit. She will, if interested, arch her body up against you, taking you inside her body. There is usually a fair bit of wriggling and shifting, usually to get comfortable, both outside and inside. Once comfortable, though, females initiate a series of muscular vaginal contractions that rub the entire length of your member. They may also thrust rhythmically against you, so enjoy the experience while you can, since you will rarely last longer that a minute or two. Just prior to her climaxing, she will up the speed of her contractions and thrusts. It is interesting to note that the times I have mated with females, they have timed their orgasm to mine. Whether they do this consciously or not, I do not know, but it is a great feeling to have two bodies shuddering against each other at the one time.
One thing to note. Whether you masturbate or mate a fin, male or female, always spend time with them afterwards. Cuddle them, rub them, talk to them and most importantly, show them you love them. This is essential, as it helps to strengthen the bond between you. Like a way of saying that this wasn't just a one-night fling. The dolphins appreciate it, and they will want your company more the next time you visit them.
Q4) What diseases can I get from dolphins? Can I give them any?
A4) I have had no experiences with Sexually Transmitted Diseases (STD's) with dolphins, so I couldn't rightfully say. I do know, however, that you can pass the Flu between you, along with other respiratory problems. (I got a cold when a dolphin sneezed on me once. It cleared up after a week or so.) You can also pass some skin irritations on to them, if you handle them with chaffed or broken skin. Just like with a human, it is best to BE CLEAN when you handle a dolphin. If you have cuts on your hands, avoid touching them unless you wash with a Betadine surgical scrub prior to handling. This is available from most Veterinary and Surgical suppliers. If you have some disease of some sort, avoid mating, for the dolphins sake. This is a little known area, more so because Zoophilia is considered illegal in many places (which I think is a load of crud, but the law's the law....)
Q5) Is their any way I can invite a dolphin to be masturbated?
A5) Well, yes. If they are hanging around, but not looking particularly excited, but you are, you can invite them with this way...
Male and Female dolphins can be invited by rolling them on their sides, again, but instead of going straight to the genital slit, rub along their bellies, between their pectoral fins, along the navel, and every once in a while, over the genital slit. If they are responsive, they will show the signs of excitement as described earlier, and you can proceed as usual. If, however, they are not responsive, they will swim away, or turn back upright. DO NOT force the issue with a dolphin! Trying to restrain them will only break their trust in you, and could cause you serious injury. Pat them, stroke them and talk to them lovingly, but do not try anything else. It is best, anyway, to let the dolphin tell you when they are ready. It is far more pleasant, and more fulfilling anyway. And more special.
Q6) Where can I find a dolphin to mate with?
A6) Aquariums are a bad choice, for many reasons. Too public, the dolphins are not in their natural habitat, night visits are impossible, etc etc... some may have external enclosures, which may be accessible, but that is no guarantee. Best thing sometimes is to find a beach or a cove that the dolphins frequent. It takes time to develop a relationship with a dolphin to the point where they will let you mate with them (although some have been as quick as 3 days to acclimatize). Gaining their trust takes time, and you need to visit frequently. This is impossible for some people, I understand, but it is the best way. Sometimes you just need to be in the right place at the right time. I have been extremely lucky on two occasions with wild dolphins, and my current mate is a dolphin who lives in the harbor of my resident city.
Well, I hope this is of use to whoever is interested. One final note. You should love a dolphin, not because of the sexual relief they can provide, but because they are a unique animal, one of the few wild animals that seek the company of man by their own initiative. This is special. Do not abuse it.
See topic
Her body throbbed. She stopped the car in the driveway and
shut everything off. A tiny whimper popped from her smeared lips
and she sank into the seat for a moment. Her pussy pulsed inside
her soggy panties. She squeezed her thighs together, thinking
about the hard cock that rammed into her hungry hole only a few
minutes before, pumping a gusher of hot come into her cunt.
Finally swinging her high heels to the concrete, she locked the
car and crossed to the stoop and paused.
Her fingers searched her purse for a moment and then
extracted the translucent latex. Her long fingers weighed the
milky contents in the yellow porch light. A tingle ran though her
as she remembered his jerking cock filling the rubber with his
first load of come. She made up a story about no pills and he had
consented to use the rubber.
She shivered and hurriedly untied the knot in the tube and
holding the top open, sniffed the pungent odor of come. For one
final minute she looked at the thick, still warm liquid then she
tipped the rubber and poured the love juice into her open mouth
and rolled it slowly on her tongue. The tangy flavor permeated
her palate and she held the still warm love juice captive in her
mouth.
She unlocked the side door and stepped inside. Holding the
strong flavored come in her mouth, she paused and listened. The
soft sounds of the TV bobbed through the house. She crossed the
kitchen and paused in the dinning room. He was sitting nude on
the carpet, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. The VCR whirred
softly. On the TV screen, a large cock plunged slowly onto a
hairy pussy and slowly pulled out to the head. She could see his
hand stroking at his lap as he gazed at the fucking on the
screen.
Her high heel clicked on the narrow expanse of bare floor at
the dinning room floor. His head swiveled and he smiled at her.
His fingers were circling the head of his rigid cock, slowly
massaging the head. For a moment she gazed at his swollen cock,
the purple head appearing between his thumb and fingers then
disappearing. Her slushy cunt pulsed and she almost swallowed the
mouthful of come. She crossed the room and stopped next to him.
He stared up at her expectantly.
"Did you bring me something?" he asked.
She nodded slowly and bent down. He tilted his head and
their lips met. Parting her lips, she let the warm thick come
slide from her mouth and into his open mouth. A low groan escaped
his throat and his tongue probed her open mouth, scraping the
dregs of the come from its hot wet corners. As she ground her
lips against his, her nostrils flaring, her body began to heat
up. Her hand found his jerking cock and pull his hand away and up
under her skirt. Her knees bent and her thighs parted as she
guided his strong finger up to the crotch of her panties and
clamped her thighs around his hand. His fingers clawed at the
soggy nylon.
Tearing her mouth from his, she gasped, her breath coming in
raspy rushes. He gazed up at her, licking the traces of come from
his lips. His fingers pulled the nylon band aside and slushed
into the oozing hole it covered. He stirred her cunt, rolling her
clit and driving his fingers deep inside her molten cunt. He
pulled his dripping fingers from her crotch and out from under
her skirt. Looking into her passion glazed eyes, he lifted his
coated fingers to his mouth and licked the combination of come
and cunt juice from them.
"You like the taste of come, don't you Daddy?" she rasped.
"And pussy juice."
"But you like come." Her eyes were slits and she pushed her
own hand up her skirt and dug into her drooling pussy with her
fingers. "You like sucking come first hand out of a cock!"
He looked at the lust distorted face of his oldest daughter
and smiled. She was very much like her mother. Hot pants! He
could see her slender fingers plunging into the gaping opening of
her cunt as she coaxed him and teased him.
"Yeessss!" he hissed. His hand had found his throbbing cock
once again and stroked it as he gazed at his daughters distorted
face.
"You'd suck off your own son if you had one. It would turn
you on if this was a cock instead of a cunt, wouldn't it!"
He nodded. He dropped back on his elbow, almost lying down
and watched her as she finger fucked her self and worked them
both into a impassioned frenzy.
"But you like to suck pussy just as much as you'd like to
suck a cock." Her voice was a bare whisper.
She fixed her eyes on his eyes and licked her lips. Pausing,
she unzipped her skirt and dropped it to the carpet. She rolled
her panties down almost to her knees and spreading her white
thighs, opened the lips of her pussy with the fingers of one hand
and rolled the swollen knob of her clit with the fingers of her
other hand.
"Watch me, Daddy! Watch me jerk my pussy off!" She whined.
His hand stroked the swollen head of his pulsing cock in rhythm
with her fingers.
"You'd like to suck my slimy pussy, wouldn't you?" She
waited, her fingers pausing between the fleshy lips of her cunt.
"You want to suck the come out of my cunt, don't you!" she
demanded.
Unable to vocalize, he nodded emphatically.
"His cock was big and so hot, Daddy. I fucked him first,
catching his come in a rubber. That's what I had in my mouth,"
she revealed. He moaned and jerked.
"Then I sucked him off. His cock jerked and spurted for a
long time and I swallowed every drop! I love to suck cock, too!"
Her body was arched above him, her fingers tearing at the
soggy hole between her legs. She whimpered and jerked.
"Ooooh! Oh! its coming!" She shuddered and jerked, waves of
pleasure engulfing her.
"Its.....soooooo.....good, Daddy!"
His hand flew over his cock. His ass bounced on the floor.
He forced his eyes to stay open so he could watch the girls
climax. Suddenly,the dam broke.
"Baby!... Oh!... Daddy's coming!" he wailed.
Still shivering from coming, she forced her fingers from her
pussy and dropped to her knees. His hand had frozen on the shaft
of his cock and she could see the purple head of it swell and
spread as the hot river of come flowed up the column of hot
flesh. Her head dipped quickly and her small mouth opened, wide.
He jerked and groaned as through the fog he felt her hot
mouth close over the head of his bursting cock. His fingers
tangled in her hair and he held her head in position.
"Suck, Baby! Suck Daddy's cock!" he wailed. "Suck all my
come out of it! Does it taste good with Mom's cunt juice still on
it?"
The girl whimpered and sucked faster. She identified the
strong second taste on his cock. Her tongue rolled the head, her
fingers cupping his balls, rolling them in the soft skin sack.
"Uuuhhhhhhh!" He slammed his cock deep into her throat and
pumped glob after glob of hot thick come into her suctioning
mouth.
After long seconds the last stream flooded her swallowing
throat. She pampered his cock with her mouth and then rolled
aside, her fingers still circling the softening shaft.
Curled together, their naked bodies damp with the the
afterglow of passion, he stirred and stroked her hard nipple.
"Can we take this too far?" he asked.
"Nooo. This is just our play time," she soothed.
"How old was this guy, tonight?"
"He said twenty-two but he wasn't a day over nineteen," she
replied. "He got off so quick, I almost didn't get the rubber on
to catch it." She laughed softly.
"Its a good thing we don't have a daughter. If she were as
hot as you, I'd have to fight to stay away from her."
She smiled at him. Her slender fingers scraped the underside
of his half hard cock.
"I'm all you can handle any way," she cooed.
"I know," he responded. "Next Saturday you're the mother and
I'm the son who discovers her naked?"
"Ummmm Hmmmmm!"
Her mouth clamped his and her hot tongue stabbed into his
mouth.