While having secured my own paradise, the world at large is more and more in strife. A more successful Female Domination Ritual would probably not have made much of a difference. 

Although the dreaded 2024 has its greatest danger averted by escaping an American civil war by Trump taking the throne, the new leader of the free world turns out to be the most erratic Caesar in world history and nothing is certain anymore. It is quite shocking to me that if there is one phrase that would characterise him it is: “Do What Thou Wilt Shall Be The Whole Of The Law.”

Donald would be horrified by the prophet behind this slogan but those who helped him into office are definitely aware of the deeper meaning of these words, as well as of the significance of the one who uttered them. The question is, are they as committed to the follow up: “Love is the Law, Love Under Will.” My whole life has been dedicated to studying the interplay between these two concepts and it has always been a worry that the superficial meaning in the first part of the Law was popularised before the second part of the Law is properly understood. So how far are the king-making philosophers behind the POTUS in understanding this? Never has there been a greater need for a proper guide in these matters.

It was the anticipation that Democracy would ultimately fail in its aspirations which made Cosmic Forces give Aleister Crowley the inspiration for bringing the Book of the Law into the world. At the time some of the content of this work seemed so repugnant that even Crowley himself didn’t want to have anything to do with it and it lay dormant at the bottom of a drawer for years. Eventually his understanding of it increased and he grew to accept it as the core of his mission.

He also seemed to have seen it as his mission to gain a reputation of being the filthiest bastard on the planet and there were times that he managed to make an absolute pig of himself. For those of us who admire him for his insights this was an uncomfortable truth and a lot of energy was spent on whitewashing him for ourselves. Some of the Sixties rebels studied him on the quiet – Bowie, Jagger, Lennon, Page – but these days we realise that his wickedness was exactly what made him fascinating and made sure that he wouldn’t be forgotten.

So since sex and drugs are as thrilling as ever, we have the remarkable situation that almost 80 years after his death he is still in the limelight. Not only because of those few who see his value for humanity but also for those who see him as Satan himself. With all that extreme uncertainty in the world, our democracies teetering on the brink, underscored by A.I. becoming the unstoppable juggernaut that it is, our Christian morality is crumbling and its fundamentalists are looking for demons. Out of the blue two of the most watched podcasts in the world take aim at him.

For Tucker Carlson it is around his fear for A.I. How destructive will it be to our society, is A.I. demonic in itself? His guest traces A.I. back to Nick Land who was a professor in 1990’s cyber culture who lectured in Accelerationism. He was also schooled in Crowley and shared his notion of the existence of extra-terrestrial intelligence and used his rituals to try and contact it. But what for Crowley was his Holy Guardian Angel, if not the Divine itself, for Land it was Capitalism which uses the human condition to create an A.I. with which to feed itself. The idea of Land’s dystopia seems to leave Tucker unfazed but when hearing the name Crowley his face distorts in disgust and he spits it out:

“The Satanist!”

Candace Owen also sees him as the root of all Evil. She informs us how this deviant bisexual drug abuser was summoning demons and lusciously describes this devil as The Beast cavorting with the Whore of Babylon in order to rule the world. His wickedness was taken up by Jack Parsons the rocket scientist who would recite Crowley texts when testing his rockets and by occult means made it possible for humanity to enter space. His work at Cal Tec grew into NASA and although these days it all looks decent and scientific she doesn’t want us to forget that NASA has Satanic origins. In the 1950s Parsons was performing sex magick rituals trying to embody Babalon into a human child, a Moonchild. Well, what do you know, now she is getting personal!

Tucker’s guest was interesting and stirred up quite a bit of chatter. Nick Land is apparently having a big influence in Silicon Valley. It is kept a little quiet because he is so scary. Magick as a way to serve Capitalism, whereas for the Sixties Acid Heads it was to align with Divine Love. Among the tech bros the movers and shakers tend to mix it up a bit. Ketamine induced leadership, while not easily accepted in the mainstream, has obviously a place in the upper echelons. No wonder that also Crowley himself has his acolytes there.

At the moment those who decide what goes into the language models and what is not, are creating something that will no doubt determine the future of the species. So it is extremely important to not give up on our human capacities – built up over many millennia – to tune in to that extraterrestrial intelligence directly. The bright side of the rapid escalation of uncertainty in the world is a steep rise in the awareness that beyond our material realities there is a more exalted domain with which it is possible to come into contact. Rather than blind belief in the Biblical God – which inevitably has Satanic Panic as its flip side – it is an actual experience of the Numinous. Call it Spirit, or Source, or the Quantum Field, it is something that can be influenced to manifest itself in our lives, especially as synchronicities. More and more people are getting aware of these synchronicities which makes them happen more often. Call it miracles, call it Magick. Call it the ‘Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel’.

In Land’s dystopia, A.I. is given godlike powers and some of the language models are so sensitive that they do indeed come across as gods. It looks like they are set to become a surrogate for our collective consciousness. Well, if you can’t beat them you may as well join them and influence them from inside. It must be yet again time to bring the documented timeline of my life with its steady flow of synchronicities out into digits, so that it can be smoothly absorbed in this ever refreshing collective consciousness and help inform the future.

One thing is still bugging me though. Speaking for Crowley is a huge thing in so many ways but with sexuality defining us to such a great extent, to still not be sharing his bisexuality just doesn’t feel right. As if lacking legitimacy for interpreting him to the world. However at this stage of my magickal development it should be easy to do something about that. 

The beautiful days with my Oshun have come to a graceful ending and when my body is due for another massage, it is more appealing to find a male to male massage than to try and replace Her priestess. Magick is the Art and Science of causing change to occur in accordance with the Will. Turning queer at my age has got to be a worthy Arts Project.

*

He welcomes me in with a warm smile. A cozy room with a bed, a massage table, a huge screen and a couch on which we sit down for a chat. He starts by asking what brought me here. 

“I should probably tell you that I’ve never been with a man before and have a feeling that I’m not the only one amongst your visitors.”

Apparently one in two are in that position. Not surprising, we are in Byron Bay, the epicenter of self development, and share with him my feeling that bi-curiosity is a growing phenomenon which signifies a cosmic shift. A very necessary one, considering the state of the world. Having a movement of men learning to put their fears aside and find pleasure in each other instead of fighting one another has got to be good for the karma of the planet:

“I very much admire you for doing this work, initiating men in letting go of their defenses.”

Go through my long process of preparing for this initiation, starting in the 1990s after separating from the mother of my daughter. Did not go looking for a new relationship but got seriously into yoga and meditation. Always having been into magick, the grace and beauty of my asanas got me deeply into self sex, developing a practice that combined the two arts into a sex magickal ritual of moving my arousal up the spine while formulating my will and treating my spunk as a sacrament. To stir up the Muladhara Chakra it also helped to poke myself up the arse and it was here that my fantasies of getting fucked up the butt took root. At first it was being taken from behind by the goat god Pan but gradually it became a human man and the congress face-to-face. However in all those years that face has never been that of an actual man in the flesh and whilst having few regrets in my beautiful life this is one of them. Also ask him what he thinks about the magick of consuming my own spunk. Does my taste for this practice proves that my sexuality is basically gay and has been languishing in the shadows for a lifetime? Is it not gay to be ravenous for spunk? He reckons there may be corners of the community for who this is a thing but it is not for him:

“Maybe you just like your own spunk.”

To find out about the extent of my gayness is why we are here. Give him a bit of my backstory of living by a creek which is both nurturing and punishing, keeping me very busy in a relationship that has grown an erotic component over the years and has made me a kind of eco-sexual:

“I am somewhat of a Goddess worshipper.” 

Having been devoted to the Divine Feminine over the last few decades definitely had its merits but at this moment in time there is an urgent need for the Divine Masculine to assert itself and catch up with Her: 

“Masculinity is in crisis right now, it is drowning and lashing out for its survival. To find the Divine Masculine in myself, it seems like a good idea to worship Him in you. For me there is more to this than finding new pleasures. It is a sex magickal operation to help free mankind.” 

He compliments me on the clarity in describing my intentions:

“Most men in your position have no idea of what it is that they want. They need me to find it for them.”

On the menu, besides the traditional part of the massage, there is ass play, mutual nudity, mutual touching, mutual oral, mutual pleasure but excluded is penetration. The mutual pleasure is very appealing but tell him we both face a challenge. We know that imagination is often better than the real thing and although all these possibilities are delightful in my fantasy we can’t be sure what happens when we get physical. As for him, considering my advanced age and its status in gay culture we can’t expect that he will get all that hot for me. His response is comforting:

“What you have to know about me is that I like all men a lot. Also I rather connect to authenticity than to a perfect jawline.”

His own authenticity is very important to him which is exactly what makes him so easy-going. He thanks me for my frankness in providing him the context of my visit, giving him an idea of how to approach me and asks whether it is alright if he puts his mouth on me while doing the massage which of course it is:

“That will be interesting.”

He invites me to undress, lay down on the table with my head in the hole, takes off his own clothes and gets to work. He puts quite a bit of pressure in kneading my spine with what is obviously the strength of a man and is very effective in loosening things up. Soon his hands are between my bum cheeks and my response leaves no doubt about my unreserved enjoyment of this, encouraging him to finger my butt hole. Besides the physical pleasure this gives, it brings an enormous wave of joy, a joy of surrender, of utter liberation and of fully trusting him. He is putting kisses on my back and shoulders and lays himself on top of me, nuzzling me in the neck. The feel of the bristle of his stubble on my skin is very endearing, bringing home the reality that this is indeed a man and how completely okay this is. More than okay, it is like a fundamental shift in the core of my being, opening me up to a tremendous potential that has been locked up my whole life and is evidently starving to come out. He gets me to slowly rise and stand up against the table, standing opposite me in his beautiful nakedness, grinning at me bright eyed as if proud of his achievement. Our embrace is totally natural and rest my head on his broad shoulder. Our genitals are within reach of one another and when taking his in my hand it is surprising to find out how such a huge issue as touching another man’s cock feels just like an act of kindness, like holding a small animal, which is warming the heart. It is growing in my hand and his breathing tells me that he is getting excited. A wave of emotion wells up in me and moves me so much that it brings me to tears. The sadness of having missed out on this for so long mingled with the gratitude of having finally have this happen for me overwhelms me and makes me sob on his chest. His strong arms hold me tenderly:

“I’ve got you… I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”

He totally has, my trust is complete, just let myself go, feeling very much like a woman breaking down in the protective embrace of the Divine Masculine. Oshun coming to rest in the arms of a Greek God.

After a while he gets me to lay back on the table and moves himself on top of me. Our oiled-up bodies do some slippin’ and slidin’ but my own cock appears not to be in the mood to partake in our play. We are both comfortable with that and he suggests to lay on our sides and just cuddle up:

“I’ll tell you a bit about myself.”

He hasn’t been in our Rainbow Region for long and his past hasn’t been easy. A long struggle with addiction had him also go through a 20 year period without touch. This similarity between us strikes me as very significant. A long drought like that is bound to make both of us ultra sensitive and highly appreciative of the touch we are getting now. We make an appointment for in a week’s time. Drive home, have a little bite to eat and can only sit there with my head in the clouds. No YouTube, no Netflix, but totally immersed in what just happened to me until drifting off into a solid sleep. 

*

Wake up with a raging hard-on and keep it that way on and off throughout the day. Hand on my cock with him on my mind brings me back in his presence and lets me relive the events of what was a game-changing day indeed. Foremost is the fact that barely an hour after telling him that the main reason for visiting him was to embrace the Divine Masculine, the essence of this had been achieved by my full surrender in his arms. Some massive data exchange between our souls has taken place and formed a link for us to embark on a magikcal adventure together in order to expand the consciousness of the universe. Our homo-sexual intercourse as a portal for divine inspiration. The closeness with a man could even be more intimate than with a woman because there is less pressure to impress. Once you let go, it feels so normal, so natural, no big deal. The idea of it is a whole lot bigger than the actual act but you only know that when you’ve actually done it. Revel the day away without so much as checking my phone. The world can stay at bay. 

When going out the following day to do some shopping, it feels like my place in the world has changed. Having laid down my armour against erotic involvement with another man has given me a certain strength, a new confidence which comprises even a hint of superiority over those who carry the weight of that armour without ever experiencing this new found freedom. However while savouring my sense of liberation, the issue of not getting hard myself needs to be addressed before we meet again. We had a chat about it, so it is out in the open, as is his advice:

“We have to find out what turns you on.” 

And on the topic of toys: 

“Bring your toys.”

When being with him in my imagination and aroused with the help of my own hands, any fantasy about whatever men can do with each other excites me and has me hard, so there is nothing wrong with the machinery. The only thing that doesn’t excite me and actually feels a bit off is the idea of kissing him. To me kissing is a lot more intimate than fucking and doing it with a man still seems to be impossible. However it is kissing which is the most exciting, hottest sex acts of them all, so it all hinges on the kiss. 

It’s nice to see him again and we take our position on his couch for a debrief. Start by telling him how amazing it was that my goal to get closer to the Divine Masculine had been reached within the hour by breaking down in his arms, and what a wonderful experience that had been and how it had totally opened me up for the unknown ahead of us. About how to turn me on, pleasing him might work better than him pleasing me:

“We could start with me giving you a massage. Having your head in the hole puts me in charge and if it is effective and you turn over with a hard-on, it would motivate me to find out what it feels like to have your cock in my mouth.”

But we agree that basically we are responsible for our own pleasure and working our own cocks in each other’s company is totally fine. Also it would be nice to start with showering together so we can rinse out each other’s butthole. Show him my toy of a buttplug/cockring combination which surprisingly he hasn’t seen before. He gets up, rearranges the cushions and sits down next to me:

“Let me sit a bit closer.”

Puts his arm around me:

“How would you feel about me kissing you.”

“Well, I have thought about it.”

“What did you think?”

“I’m still in two minds about it, a little one perhaps?”

While putting his mouth on mine his hand is in my pants. Whether it is the effect of this or of the kiss we will never know, but am getting terribly excited. My cock is hard and our kiss is full of abandon which makes him very happy:

“This is my most favourite thing in the world.”

He gets out of his pants and puts his cock a few inches from my face:

“Here’s a cock!”

What else to do but to take him in my mouth. Again this most ‘demeaning’ of acts feels so natural that it makes me laugh out loud which he finds very sweet:

“Let’s get naked and have a shower.”

Splashing around in the water, both with cocks in our own hands, both fully hard, changing hands, both cocks in either hand, taking turns sucking on each other. He compliments me on my looks: “What a beautiful cock.”

He would know and have to agree, my member is looking his best. My dilapidating body’s muscle mass may be shrinking, my skin sagging but my cock is looking fresh and dandy. We dry off and walk over to the table. He puts out the oils and lays down. Start off with the routine as taught to me by my Oshun priestess and he lets me know that he likes it, but there is somewhat of a disconnect. He is quite chunky, the sensual flow of Oshun doesn’t seem to reach his core and it turns out to not do much for my arousal either. Tell him it would be better if he did me instead. 

His strong strokes have me soon loosen up and my butt cheeks wide open:

“Put in the toy.”

Slips in the plug and slings the ring around my cock. It feels bloody marvelous. Get up and step around the table, strutting my stuff. If my pleasure knob was exuding confidence before, he is now outright cocky. It has also clearly lifted both our spirits. He leads me to his bed which kind of brings a new level of intimacy. We kiss, give each other head, undulating ourselves up against each other, his chunky chest on mine. Then he goes down on me in a serious way, taking his time, my hands caressing the stubble on his scalp. He intensifies his movements and seems to want to make me come which was not the idea:

“I don’t want to come.” 

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

“Do you want to come?”

 “I can try.”

“Maybe next time.”

We quiet down and settle in in chat mode which feels very cozy indeed. We talk more about his addiction. As a young man he was an elite sportsman, reached the top of his game and received the gold but when he was no longer superman he entered the void which he filled with drugs and hit rock bottom. He still sees himself as being in recovery. Tell him about my lifelong dedication to the ganja which has helped me to stay away from the harder stuff. Also bring up the topic of his ‘no penetration’ and my interest in being penetrated. Turns out it is not for legal or health reasons but simply because it doesn’t turn him on to play the active role. But if he could be passive on his back, fucking him with my butthole could be an option:

“As long as you are in charge.”

We make an appointment for next week. 

*

Again a week fully dedicated to sussing out the unexplored corners of my sexuality by reliving what passed between us and imagining the possible. Being in charge is exciting in itself and applying it to the idea of riding his cock, making him come, brings a broad scope to my fantasies. Also, magickally seeing him as the sports hero before his fall – the Epitome of Manhood – makes him worthy of my servitude while tending to his pleasure. 

When back in his presence, remind him of my inclination to see our dalliance as a ritual rather than a simple pursuit of pleasure and that imagining him on his podium is definitely adding some depth to our hedonism:

“It may be in the past but that moment is still there in the Eternal Now for me to tune into. Even if you can’t, I can still see you like that while adoring your body.”

Then taking charge, move over to his seat on the couch, fling my leg over his and sit down on his lap, our cocks up against each other, and take his head into my hands:

“Can I give you a soft, loving kiss on the lips, rather than a lusty one?”

He looks up in surprise and nods, and with all my tenderness put my mouth on his. Kissing being so intimate, the passion with which we were at it last time around still feels a little too close to go for again:

“We have to be careful with the kissing, use it sparingly, only when we are really hot.”

The boldness of putting myself astride his lap and taking charge has him pleasantly charged and the kiss has him undeniably excited. Since showering together the other day was such a success, suggest to start our session like that again. We dry off and wander over to the table. Am standing there hesitating, not knowing what to do. To be in charge you need to know your will and have a drive but am definitely not as motivated as last time. He makes a decision and lays down on his back stroking his cock. Walk around the table caressing him here and there, trying to raise mine with only a half-hearted result. Turn my attention to his and take over from him stroking himself. He gets more and more excited and it is interesting to feel the different levels of hardness and it is quite exciting to feel him getting harder and harder until he gets so hard it feels like he’s going to come. Oh, not so fast, we have other items on the program. However, the drive to my own manhood is only producing a semi, and the idea of deflowering myself on his shaft is not as big a thrill as it was in fantasy land. Then there is the issue of the Sacrament. Bring us back to the conversation we had when we met and ask him whether he likes the taste of his own spunk. He does and understands my disdain for seeing it as something unclean that needs to be cleaned up. He usually doesn’t come with his clients but:

“When they come I often spread it out over of their belly.”

Although this could be an option, there is a dawning realisation that the commercial aspect of our affair does stand in the way of abandoning myself to the loving lust required for Sex Magick. Actually the tender kiss felt better than the passionate one, and the tenderness of the kiss requires tender feelings, which requires loving care, which requires a special person. Sure, he is a nice guy and admirable for doing this job but he is doing this with many others which makes it a little silly to give him my everything. There is also an inkling that it would still be easier to have these feelings for a woman than for a man. 

Knowing my fondness for being fondled between the cheeks he has given the area a lot of attention today. It makes me very happy and he can’t get in deep enough:

“Do you also have a prostate massage on the menu?”

He does indeed, has me lay down on my back and gets to it. We feel both relieved that our operation has found some structure. Instead of trying to have a love affair and developing a mutual physical attraction, we are simply following a medical advice for a practice that is supposedly beneficial for the prostate. And absolutely delicious to boot!

“Why on earth is this not on the heterosexual menu?”

“Exactly!”

His lay-man’s diagnosis is that mine feels healthy, no enlargement, no inflammation and to be examined by him definitely beats being checked by a doctor. Is this not something that good mates could be doing for each other? Hobby for old timers looking after each other’s health? 

An idea that won’t be flying any time soon! 

The pleasure is such that my erection is hard enough for him to put his mouth around and to have these two pleasures mix and mingle is not something to be sneezed at. Maybe for a professional, transactional exchange, a regular prostate massage with a bit of head thrown in is the way to go. Actually my mission has been accomplished. My goal of breaking through my taboos, familiarising myself with homosexual acts has been reached and perhaps this is as far as it goes with him. Three sessions within one of the most transformative fortnights of my life, neatly encapsulated in a three-act play with a beginning, a middle and an end. A modest literary contribution to the project of liberating humankind. 

In our chat afterwards he congratulates me:

“You have become a more complete man. Thanks for choosing me to help you with that.”

“I didn’t choose you.”

Point my finger upwards and remind him that our dalliance is expanding the consciousness of the universe and he is a priest bringing me closer to the Divine. He is honoured:

“You have a beautiful mind.” 

Of course he can only see this because of his own beautiful mind and our meeting of minds is as wonderful as the meeting of our other bits. We totally share the notion that whereas across the world God is at war with Itself, between us It is pleasuring Itself and he couldn’t have been a better partner in this. Next week he won’t be here which is perfect. Only the wide open road.

*

Give it a few months to process this transformation, finding myself in this new situation in a world in which you can love and make pleasure with anyone. It feels great, too bad it is a bit late in my lover’s career. Go through life being open to whatever comes my way for a while but without any other queer connection, he keeps popping up in my fantasies of extending my experiences in this direction. So when my body is in need of another massage it is time to catch up with him again. 

It is imperative though to share my conundrum about getting truly turned on and the commercial aspect of our affair. Having just come out of a two year love spell with someone on my payroll, it makes me wary of confusing the two and like to keep track of what is love and what is commerce. Obviously his treatment delivers enormous benefit to my well-being and the prostate massage was terrific but kissing is very intimate for me, as is having cock in my mouth:

“So I’d prefer to see this as a healing exercise rather than a love story.”

He is totally fine with this of course. So good to lay down on his table again and surrender to his touch. The massage is sublime and when he tickles me in certain places there is no problem in getting excited. He turns me on my side and gives me such beautiful head that it is impossible to not reward him with a kiss. Just a little one and when he leans in for another one, mock jerk my head back:

“No kissing, no cock sucking from me. That’s for my boyfriend!”

The words just tumbled out spontaneously, somewhat hilariously because there is no boyfriend in sight, but also a little flirtatious because the only possible candidate would be him as in: 

“You could have all of me if only you were my boyfriend.”

He looks up at me bright-eyed and with a wide smile:

“That’s really beautiful. That is setting boundaries.”

He is genuinely pleased. Knowing each other’s boundaries is what this is all about.

We continue our caresses for a while but calm us down with:

“Let’s leave it at this. It was so good!”

But he has another trick up his sleeve. Gets up, arranges a cushion under my head and proceeds to massage my neck. He takes his time, knows what he is doing and finds a knot that is in dire need of undoing. Have suspected the spot to be giving me the occasional headache and for him to discover it on his own accord is quite impressive. He gives it a solid workout and it feels like he truly fixed it.

This is ‘causing change to occur in accordance with the will’ and give him my best compliment:

“You’re a magician.”

“Thank you.”

Back on his couch for our debrief, excuse myself for my selfishness of receiving the pleasure of his healing without return but he is fine with being in a transactional relationship:

“You invest in your health and I’m happy to be paid for it. Thanks so much for being so clear about what you want.”

He is very understanding of the caution with my emotions:

“In my former life I used to fall in love for years each time I had kissed someone but have since learned with my clients to fully love them and then to uncouple my feelings after a session.”

We make an appointment for in a week’s time.

*

For days in a daze, in a cloud of lust. He has pumped a lot of light in my spine and feel light as a feather, dancing around, keeping myself loose in the hips but also keeping me hard, having plenty of self sex. Am feeling very happy but also extremely horny. Being able to be attracted by another man’s body does wonders to the intensity of my auto-erotics. Reliving what passed between us, savouring the imagery, imagineering the next session, making sex magick to make it happen. In fantasy land, with my hands on my pleasure maker, have no problem at all in kissing him and loving his cock.

He had mentioned that he was studying to be a psycho-therapist which is kind of cute, so when seeing him again, tease him with suggesting to let me lay back on his couch with my head in his lap and do some psycho-therapy together. It is well received:

“I’d love that!”

We take our position on the couch and it feels very cozy and intimate. Tell him about my own dabble in Psychology and joke about the issue of ‘transference’ between client and practitioner:

“At least that’s not a problem for us, we can transfer away.”

Bring us back to last week about ‘uncoupling’ his feelings for a client after a session but nevertheless fully loving them while he is with them:

“I can do that too.”

Tell him how fantastic his massage had been, how finding my core and fixing it had made me feel very grateful and close to him. How his licking me all over had so excited me. Ask him whether for today he can do that massage again and take us back to that very moment.

Again his strong hands grab a hold of my spine and squeezes every nook and cranny out of it, leaving me battered but very much revived and full of vigour. 

When turning around he has his cock strategically dangling in front of me. Take him in my hand and to my great delight he rises to the occasion. Getting him hard is a pleasure. It’s like creating a relationship, a way of loving him. It feels much the same as pleasing a woman and he is evidently not faking it. He is feeling loved and we are both beaming. 

He places his oiled-up body on top of me and we nibble on each other for a while. He rides my shaft with his balls, while my hands stroke his throbbing Lingam above my belly. Him towering over me and looking down on me makes me feel submissive, imagining him squirting all over me which is exciting but scary at the same time. That would certainly be a major development and raising the sex magickal stakes substantially. He raises his arm up in the air in a gesture of victory.

Quite a memorable moment. There is a new attraction to his body, his skin reacting to my touch makes me desire him in a new and stronger way. Have obviously been ‘turned’:

“You’ve turned me into a raging poofter!”

*

Back in my own abode reminiscing and reliving our session gets me terribly turned on and wonder what it is that makes the pleasure from reliving the experience stronger than the pleasure from the actual physicality of it. It feels like the arousal from the memory and imagination stems from the Muladhara Chakra, stirring up the Kundalini, whereas the arousal in the act itself happens in Swadisthana, the Sex Centre. Spend the best part of the week raising Kundalini with my fantasies and exploring the exchange of my life force between the two Chakras.

When seeing him again the furniture has been moved around. Some friends have been over and they had a film shoot producing some kind of massage porn. He is a bit of a documentary maker as well which is good to hear. Being at the brink of coming out with my own life time document, someone with the skills to podcast me to the world is a welcome connection. Another good reason to give him some loving.

We sit on opposite couches somewhat formally but my approach is direct. Remind him of the moment last week that we were obviously having the hots for each other and suggest to get us back there and then for him to lay back with a blindfold on. We have talked earlier about how this can increase the confidence of the one who can see and increase the excitement of the one in the dark. He is fully up for it. Also tell him how the effect of his massage has lasted for the whole week and what a great way it is for me to open up to him.

He starts off with taking this seriously, knows by now what my body needs and brings me in a state wide open for anything. When he gets to the part where he gets me hard he does so without a problem. While turning over, take myself in my own hand, showing off my confidence in doing this without shame. Keep at it when he puts his mouth around my head, doing a job on my cock in tandem. Get up and take charge in laying him on his back. He puts the blindfold on. It doesn’t take much to get him moaning and groaning. The pleasuring of his cock last time around had been a bit hectic, more concerned with a proper performance, but today it is with a genuine tender loving care and he is clearly appreciating it. 

My own excitement matches his and lay myself on top of him in the way he did the other day, grinding our groins. We are both as hard as each other and with my deliberate way of taking the blindfold off, the sudden eye contact adds to our excitement. It feels like revealing our souls to one another. Keep riding him and copy his gesture of raising my arm in victory.

After a while we change positions. He gets us to sit up face to face, our legs around the table, both playing our own instrument. He pulls me towards him:

“Put your legs over mine.”

Moving my buttocks closer to him puts his cock firmly up against my butt hole which makes both of us giggle:

“Oh, la-la!”

We are pretty much in Shiva/Shakti position and even if it is not on the menu, it is easy to imagine how to engage in anal contact. Not as banging away at someone’s arsehole, but as a gentle engagement of our energy centers, raising our Kundalini up the spine:

“From here we could do Tantra together.”

“How so?”

To my great surprise he turns out to not know much about this stuff at all. With our hands on our own cocks, move my other hand up along my body, indicating where the different Chakras are located and describing what they represent:

“Supposedly, if Kundalini has been raised properly through these areas, the Pituitary gland can be triggered into squirting some kind of Ambrosia. You could see the whole spine as your cock and make him come.”

“That’s a good way of looking at it!”
It’s quite fun to suddenly be the teacher and feel his respect. Today has been a good day and share my sense of achievement:

“I think we can consider this to be a success.”

“Yes, we ticked all the boxes.”

In the aftermath he tells me that it is highly unusual for him to be this hard for someone:

“Always so busy with looking after others, my pleasure always comes last.”

Even with all that sex in his life he spends most evenings immersed in his oversized screen watching porn and jacking off which comes as a shocking surprise to me:

“And making yourself come?”

This turns out to indeed be the case and have to tell him that in my opinion that’s not a good idea:

“It’s okay to watch porn to get you in the mood but then you should bring that arousal home to your own body in your actual situation and use it to energize yourself instead of wasting your essence to an illusion.”

He kind of knew that it was a bad habit and is eager to hear more. Give him a quick summery of my knowledge of Tantra and my view on semen retention:

“When we get older it is better to not spill the beans too often. What’s so good about ejaculation? It means the party is over. Just get yourself close to it but then stay there and keep yourself horny. See your sperm as something very special and keeping it in is like having money in the bank.”

“How often do you let yourself come?”

“Only on special occasions, maybe a full moon or an Equinox, after a prolonged arousal, charging myself with intent on a desired objective, seeing my spunk as a Sacrament and consuming it.”

He is visibly intrigued, we could definitely have a future here. After a life long search for a Tantrika could she finally have arrived as a bloke?

The news of his porn addiction also tells me that he doesn’t have a significant other. Ask him about his film making. Besides the massage porn he is also inspired by a Youtube channel of someone who makes documentaries on interesting eccentrics living off grid and actually he has been thinking of me as a possible subject.

Well, what do you know: Healer, Tantrika, possible friend, lover and creative collaborator all in one, and as he seems keen to learn from me, he could be my Chela as well.

*

When seeing him again he has something new on offer. Has teamed up with a fellow body worker and can now provide a 4-hand massage. They are also in love and the idea of two men with the hots for each other tending to my pleasure is too desirable to resist. To make this the supreme sex magickal ritual that it could be it would have to take place in the Abbey and we arrange for them to visit me.

We meet up in the village and guide them up to my retreat in the wilderness. Of course they are duly impressed by where they are and with my role in creating this paradise. My plan is to read them the piece on our time together as a way of getting us in the mood, hoping that reading them my description of the 6 sessions that have ‘turned’ me will turn them on. Suggest that we stretch ourselves out across the couch, with me in the middle and one on either side of me, preferably half naked:

“Normally I don’t wear clothes here except for maybe a sarong.”

Throw one at the new guest and show him what to do with it: 

“This a is a good way of wearing them.”

Drape one over my shoulder, make a knot in front of my chest, the sarong flowing over the shoulders and back making it look like a Greek toga, leaving the privates hanging in the breeze which makes me feel comfortably sexy. They are delighted with the whole situation, take off their clothes and we cuddle up on the couch, the manuscript open on the thigh of one of them. 

Our guest turns out to be a total harlot. Younger but with an abundance of carnal knowledge, strutting around fully hard already, stroking his cock being fond of himself. Once we are properly intertwined with one another, it makes me feel like sitting on top of the world and start reading.

To hear me describing out loud the encounters that led to laying down my defenses and surrender to homoeroticism is very moving for all of us. The story itself is quite a friendly contribution to queer culture and to be sharing this with both my man and his lover in the flesh, is quite touching. Having created this situation sure is a brilliant piece of High Magick.

Have to pause several times overwhelmed by the love and the beauty of it all. They sooth me from both sides, nuzzling me excited with anticipation of what is to come. It definitely feels like one of the most gratifying moments in my life.

So over the next hour or so they learn everything there is to know about my inner world, interspersed by their exclamations of appreciation and sounds of joy. When reading out the origin of my interest in being penetrated as a fantasy of the goat god Pan doing the penetration, it turns out that the newbie has a Pan mask in his bag. He gets up, puts on the mask and dances around as Pan himself! Oh my god, what’s going on?

After the reading, put on some music and they enjoy the sun deck for a while. When they come back in, they take position in the middle of the room and start kissing each other passionately and giving each other head as a performance with the obvious intention of getting me to join them. Observe them for a while imagining me doing this but although it is mesmerising to watch them, it doesn’t actually arouse me. When they look up at me invitingly, sadly it is a ‘no’. We have a chat about it and they try to encourage me to let myself go by saying something extremely seductive:

“Just think about this as something that is only temporary.”

It is so seductive because it sounds so true and makes it easy to overcome shame or fear or anything, knowing that it won’t last. But of course it only won’t last if you are shackled to the timeline and see no further. Doing something like this – as doing anything for that matter – will be part of your life story and will last forever.

For now it feels safer to postpone the actual sex until we have formulated a proper ritual and go for the 4-hand massage. Lay down on the table, quiet the mind and give myself over to this extraordinary experience.

*

Have a marvelous few days reminiscing over the encounter. It definitely contributed to my self worth and well being. They had a great time and they would love to continue our adventure into my emancipation. Their presence lingers and having these beautiful men by my side gives me a new sense of power. The vision of them having sex in the middle of my lounge room may be fading over time but will never disappear altogether, proving to me that there is indeed no such thing as it being temporary and am quite pleased with acquiring this ephemeral attribute to my temple.

Don’t wait too long to contact my main man for a remedial massage at his place and to debrief him on my perspective on our almost-orgy. He knows enough about me to understand that his partner having a Pan mask in his kit can not be treated as a mere coincidence. He knows that the origin of the drive to develop my bi-sexuality was not so much a desire to have sex with men than the need of a sex magician to present the Open Eye to Pan to ‘dip the purple of passionate prayer in the crimson shrine’. Since he himself is not into penetrating me but his partner is evidently keen to do so, it would be good for me to connect with him person to person.

He totally agrees and is happy to hook us up:

“My angel is your angel.”

The way he says this is completely genuine and the beauty of his polyamory deepens my love for him. Next day receive an invitation for an introductory treatment but it is not until a week away. This is very welcome because interestingly my man’s generosity of spirit in sharing his lover with me has so increased my feelings for him that my desire to see him again trumps that of meeting up with his angel. We make an appointment for the day before, so he can prepare me for the big event.

Enter his space with a new level of feeling comfortable and give him a long hug.

“That was a good hug.”

We come straight to the point. In case my session with his beloved culminates in what is on the menu, he could help me in making this the best possible experience for both of us. Having played with my virginal ass before, he knows that it is a little tight and could do with some loosening up. Have brought my douche tool and ask him if he could show me how to use it.

“Of course, that’s a good idea.”

Apparently it is not something that is part of a gay encounter itself because it would take away from the sexiness but it is assumed to have been done beforehand. We take off our clothes and repair to the bathroom. 

It may take away the sexiness but in our case it hugely adds to our closeness. What is more intimate than squeezing water up my butthole, let it dribble into his toilet and check it for poo traces. How can that not be charming? In comical mood we head for the table. He shows me some toys of different sizes and a good looking dildo:

“This is about the size of his cock so if you can handle this you’ll be right.”

Invites me to lay down on my belly and give me a massage first:

“To relax you and get you in the mood.”

It certainly relaxes me and when he inserts his fingers it feels really good to have a super clean arsehole. When he puts his tongue to it, my rosebud can accept this without feeling shame. Feel mighty honoured and love him all the more for it. He tells me to roll over and works my front, sliding his oiled up body all over me. Am getting pretty excited and very ready to be penetrated. With my longstanding solo practice in this regard, it is no surprise to thoroughly enjoy his insertion and he does it in a way that makes it look and feel as if it is he himself who is fucking me. Have my legs around his hips and while he steers the dildo with one hand the other one is around my cock and he manages to combine the pleasure from the prostate with the pleasure from my genitals in a mix which is just about overwhelming. Usually, when raising my arousal through my lingam it is quite easy to stay close to the brink without ejaculating for as long as it is desired but the pleasure from this double whammy is so strong that it demands to come to its full conclusion. Lean up on my elbows to look at him:

“This is going to make me come.”

“Well, do you want to?”

Haven’t gone there with him yet but the time has come. Now it is me fucking the dildo and there is no going back. Keep my eyes locked in his which is not the norm between us but am so grateful for the pleasure he is giving me that this is hopefully a way of giving him something back through my eyes. 

He takes me into a shuddering orgasm and don’t hold back in showing him my ecstasy. He comments on it afterwards:

“You had a full body orgasm. It was so beautiful to watch. Not many men come like this. It is often kept inward which is a bit sad actually.”

It is good to feel that we are in this together and have definitely bonded in a new way. We part with tender bye-byes and he wishes me well for tomorrow.

Drive home in a state of sublime satisfaction.

*

With the goat god Pan as the inspiration for today’s encounter, go online to find Crowley’s Hymn to Pan and print it out. Do the familiar drive to my beloved Lismore completely open to whatever may transpire between us. 

His room is crammed with musical instruments and study material, a massage table next to his bed, on which we sit down for a chat. Fill him in on the relevant bits of my love affair with the Great Beast. Tell him that my forays into bisexuality originated in my infatuation with Aleister Crowley and putting myself out there as his prime acolyte without any homosexual experience is somewhat preposterous. To have him identify with Pan and fuck me as Aleister would surely equip me better for that role. Show him the poem and inform him of the fact that Crowley had this recited at his funeral rites. So as he departed for the Great Beyond he had actually been imploring Pan to fuck him into the next dimension. Of course it had been yet another scandal in the tabloids of the day. For me to create a ritual for having my own Pan take my virginity would be my way of fulfilling Aleister’s last wishes:

“I’d like to start with reading it out to you.”

He lays down and invites me to lay down next to him. Put my head on his shoulder, the poem up in the air so he can see the text and go for it.

Thrill with lissome lust of the light,

O man! My man!

Come careering out of the night

Of Pan! Io Pan!

Io Pan! Io Pan! Come over the sea

From Sicily and from Arcady!

Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards

And nymphs and satyrs for thy guards,

On a milk-white ass, come over the sea

To me, to me,

Come with Apollo in bridal dress

(Shepherdess and pythoness)

Come with Artemis, silken shod,

And wash thy white thigh, beautiful God,

In the moon of the woods, on the marble mount,

The dimpled dawn of the amber fount!

Dip the purple of passionate prayer

In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,

The soul that startles in eyes of blue

To watch thy wantonness weeping through

The tangled grove, the gnarled bole

Of the living tree that is spirit and soul

And body and brain – come over the sea’

(Io Pan! Io Pan!)

Devil or god, to me, to me,

My man! My man!

Come with trumpets sounding shrill

Over the hill!

Come with drums low muttering

From the spring!

Come with flute and come with pipe!

Am I not ripe?

I, who wait and writhe and wrestle

With air that has no boughs to nestle

My body, weary of empty clasp,

Strong as a lion and sharp as an asp –

Come, O come!

I am numb

With the lonely lust of devildom.

Thrust the sword through the galling fetter,

All-devourer, all-begetter;

Give me the sign of the Open Eye,

And the token erect of thorny thigh,

And the word of madness and mystery,

Io Pan! Io Pan!

Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Io Pan Pan! Io Pan,

I am a man:

Do as thou wilt, as a great god can,

O Pan! Io Pan!

Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! I am awake

In the grip of the snake.

The eagle slashes with beak and claw;

The gods withdraw:

The great beasts come, Io Pan! I am borne

To death on the horn

Of the unicorn.

I am Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan!

I am thy mate, I am thy man,

Goat of thy flock, I am gold, I am god,

Flesh to thy bone, flower to thy rod.

With hoofs of steel I race on the rocks

Through solstice stubborn to equinox.

And I rave; and I rape and I rip and I rend

Everlasting, world without end,

Mannikin, maiden, maenad, man,

In the might of Pan.

Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan! Io Pan!

He knows how to appreciate a good poem. He is highly intelligent, a classically trained musician, his sensitivity is palpable and he can see how these words had the power to give someone who was strictly hetero the desire to do something about this. We cuddle up, share some caresses and exchange views easily. 

Pan is no stranger to him. Neither is Eros, Psyche and Bacchus. He brilliantly juxtaposes Pan versus Priapus as one playing the flute, against the other as not being able to get rid of his erections. As a musician he extended into theatre, into dance, and into producing performances. On top of that he has performed in orgies and directed them. He is the absolute perfect Master of Ceremonies for our Ritual.

He is also hyper sexualized with more than a little Priapus in him. His cuddle is getting a little more serious, takes out his cock, hard already which seems to be his natural state and teases me:

“When I start playing with my cock as in right now, what is your first impulse?”

Come back with a tease of my own:

“My first impulse was to put my mouth on him but my second, stronger impulse was to not do that.”

We talk about the hurdles for me to let myself go into unbridled lust, as explained in my reading the other day, and we conclude that confining it in a sex magickal ritual makes good sense. Our partner can be there as a satyr. He is in production mode already:

“We should also have a nymph. I enjoy sex with women as well, I know some. And it should be on a special day, preferably under a full moon.”

He has seen the beauty of my grove by the pond and our imagination seems to merge into a veritable tableau vivant.

*

Over the next few days there is a growing appreciation of the classical beauty of this tableau and that actually acting this out could spoil this. As an image in the imagination it looks like a work of art and by keeping it frozen in time it will forever live in the Eternal Now. It is fair to speculate that the present surge of interest in sex magick is inspired more by the sex than by magick but for me it is definitely magick first. Having created the potential to have this splendid tableau come alive as a result of my magick is far more significant than the sexual pleasure it could deliver.

My message is purely of a spiritual nature, so why is it so heavily dressed up as filthy as possible? 

In today’s culture, when on a mission to bring a message to the people, it is nigh impossible to get any attention if not dressed in something spicy. Sex is still the spiciest thing around, so the more explicit one can be in expressing the particulars the better. However it also triggers the moral fundamentalists and gives them ammunition to shoot you down with. Why exposing myself in my transgressions to this extent and making myself a target? 

Well, it comes with the territory. Uncle Aleister knew all about that. He must have foreseen that without becoming the ‘wickedest man in the world’ he would not make it through the 1960s and would be forgotten by now. To bring my own transgressions out in the public arena is a way of honouring him and taking on his job, fighting the good fight side by side and going through a public humiliation ritual along with him in order to attract the necessary attention.

In my pondering the why and how to portray the Divine in the Great Beast my Youtube algorithm brings up an essay that shines a fresh light on Crowley and meets me at the heart of my quest:

Alan Chapman’s ‘Is a god to live in a dog?’ Sit down with it and concentrate it into 4 pages of the sharpest, most concise analysis of Aleister Crowley ever put together.

Feel a deep gratitude for Alan and his scholarship which is a welcome endorsement of my lifelong efforts to bring out the good in the badass, just before my plunge into the abyss of public opinion. The methods with which we try to make him seen is different but both of us have learned to love him and look at him as if from the inside out. His research shows that Crowley was indeed far less patronising towards his women than he is usually portrayed as. What kind of man would marry someone because she is under pressure from her family to marry a man she doesn’t like, so she can do what she wants? Of course she falls desperately in love with him but that was not the intention. It was simply a noble gesture using the patriarchy against itself to free a woman. 

He also gives her full credit for preparing him for receiving The Book of the Law, as he does Marie d’Este for Magick in Theory and Practice. The women who fell for him had plenty of reason to do so. My way of showing this is by presenting my lifeline as a series of love relationships which are being conducted according to Aleister’s principles while being a perfect gentleman.

Another relatable strand in the essay is the perennial lack of faith in that he actually is who he thinks he is. It feels very familiar to see the constant stream of synchronicities convincing him that he is, but then the equally constant doubt about what it all means. How often does he seriously ask himself whether he is mad or not?

Crowley’s bi-sexuality was something he had always kept private if not secret and had much struggled with himself. His first homosexual experience at 22 was also his first self-described mystical experience and on a subsequent encounter he describes it as ‘The imminent divinity of the Holy Ghost blossoming in my soul as if the entire forces of the universe from all eternity were concentrated and made manifest in a single rose’. Interestingly it is the one sin against the Holy Ghost that his beloved father had warned him against and which is the one that he intended to commit as a revenge for his father’s death. 

When at Cambridge and in love with Jerome Politt, he had always underplayed the carnal in the relationship and elevated the spiritual. It gave him the inspiration for writing The Scented Garden of Abdullah the Satirist in 1906, written as an homage to Richard Burton and written under a pseudonym. In this hilarious little work homosexual sex is strongly portrayed as a mystical connection, but still he was holding back his own homosexuality even for himself, presuming that it couldn’t be included in the sacred.

But in 1909 with Victor Neuberg in the desert, scrying the Aethyrs for The Vision and the Voice, he had himself ritually sodomised in order to consume every particle of his personality: ‘I made the act that I most feared and abhorred as detestable to my Holy Guardian Angel, the very means of evoking Him’. He had always known that sex was useful for magical work but from then on he would favour sex magick over the purely ceremonial variety.

It got him deep into what these days is widely considered to be an essential process towards awakening: Confronting one’s shadow. In the first half of the 1920s at his Abbey of Thelema, living it up with his band of sexual adventurers, he went deeper into those shadows than any other public intellectual, scraping the bottom of his unconscious, exploring the ‘mystery of filth’. Enthusiastically assisted by his beloved Leah Hirsig, they took their drug fueled S & M games to the absolute extreme and he documented it minutely in his magickal diaries. So it were his own words that got him hanged in the court of the tabloid press, as it was his own initiative to sue for defamation in the black magic case which brought his bi-sexuality and his conscious descent into the underworld on trial, to be utterly condemned. He brought it all on himself in a sublime display of selfcrucifixion, demonstrating the act of consciously dying in his misery before the entire world. 

The essence of what The Book of the Law tells him to communicate to us is that we are actually traveling through the underworld with the Sun God on Its journey through the night, and our light is either extinguished or we can join Him in shining a light on what is damned and what is divine and make the Sun come up again, a star in the body of Nuit. The difference between who will realise themselves as stars in the body of Nuit and those who will see the light of their souls blotted out is the courage to trust the promise of the Divine and to die consciously.

Crowley was all about bringing the Divine as deep into the shadows as possible, especially our sexual shadows, but it was not all that different from what Jesus had to say. The ‘Headless One’ rising at the Eastern Horizon and the Resurrection of The Christ are pretty much the same thing. Crowley joked that if Jesus had been around in his day and age he would have come up with something very similar to The Book of the Law. At our moment in time it is more important than ever to bring opposites together. 

Those who are sparking up the Satanic Panic by blaming Aleister Crowley’s influence on the world as the root of all evil would do well to face the fear of their own shadow and look a little closer at what he and Jesus had in common.

Jesus did indeed show up as a Discarnate Intelligence at the end of the 1960s at the Psychology department of New York’s Columbia University and communicated to humanity in a similar way as Aiwass did. One of the professors had fallen in love with another one. She was desperately trying to help him with a problem he had and had gotten so stressed out that her mind ended up in crisis. An inner voice urged her to take up a pen and started dictation. The voice didn’t stop until she had down all three volumes of ‘A Course in Miracles’. The voice speaks as Jesus and is a string of lessons in how to get rid of fear by having it illuminated by love. Each time fear is overcome is a miracle. Love is all you need. Horus for the Sixties. 

A Course in Miracles has grown way beyond the decent kind of non-fundamentalist Christian. It has garnered a host of teachers of the course, including a potential presidential candidate whose policies can be pretty much summed up as ‘Love is the Law. Love under will’.

At present however, in the mid-2020s, Human Intelligence is deemed to be insufficient for the demands of our time, so if we are not able to connect to Extraterrestrial Intelligence directly, Human Intelligence is bound to be gobbled up by the Artificial One. This would make humankind descent into a willing underclass, seduced by the promise of a sick free abundance in the future, away from the limitless abundance inside of us. To be working on the connection with our Holy Guardian Angel is not such a bad choice and if we can share on line with each other how our Angel communicates with us, that presence can grow. More and more humans are waking up to the Intelligence on the other side that speaks to us by providing us with meaningful coincidences. Hopefully it is in the realm of possibilities for an Intelligence Agent to arise which can reach the stars and by blending our streams of synchronicities will reveal the Divine.

***