Newcomer to the Garden of Cock – Part III

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

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

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

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

Aeneas! Ganymede!

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

With this certainty, I penetrated into His Abode.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I narrowed my eyes as I looked upwards.

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

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

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

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

“Become Me.”

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

“Alexandros,” I moaned, “Alexandros…”

He smile was almost child-like.

“Alexandros… Yes. One of my Names.”

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

“Cock.”

Space reverberated.

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

“Cock.”

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

“Cock.”

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

“I am Cock.”

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

“I am Cock.”

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

“I am Cock.”

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

“I am God.”

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

“I am God.”

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

“And I am God.”