I caught her once before, as I was just waking up early one morning. She was performing the kind of fellatio that only a succubus spirit is capable of. Like getting a blow-job from an angel… except she’s a bit more complicated than an angel.
It’s such a gift: both feeling and hearing her. Though I have yet to hear her say, “Hi,” in our mundane world, this little milestone fills me with so much endearment towards her.
I think she’s waiting for me to start up astral projection excursions again. Honestly, I’m rather scared of going out there. What if she tries to grab me, and throw me into the labyrinth again? What if I don’t come back?
Fuck!
I’ve got to face that fear head on. I know it will only become worse if I dwell on what MIGHT happen. Moore’s Law…
A few unpleasant side-effects came along with this milestone, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before. There was some additional tightness in the muscles on the right side of my neck, along with increased pressure against my face. Sometimes, that pressure against my brow can become rather annoying.
A couple hours of brisk walking and jogging usually addresses those energy-body discomforts. That, and the usual grounding/earthing methods.
Wish me luck in the labyrinth!
Read More…Today officially marks the seventh solar cycle since the night of my union with Catherine. This journey has been hedged by all manner of curious byways and scenic routes. The road is anything but straight and narrow, but I think that’s a good sign. Rather, Catherine’s route has been twisting, winding, oftentimes confusing, yet pleasant, especially if one takes the time to slow down and smell that intoxicating astral fragrance of hers.
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There she is, at the heart of our nation’s capitol. Can you see her?
Catherine doesn’t like vacations much. She’s not big on the idea of traveling afar when we could just as easily have fun at home. Still, I have friendships in far off places that I’d like to maintain, and there’s no replacement for in-person interaction, so I strive to make my thousand-mile journeys, with a grumpy succubus spirit in tow. She appreciates that I try to hold onto my core group of friends, but she sees big empty swathes of time in my schedule and thinks, “Oh, look… we can finally be together for a change!”
Read More…Isn’t there something I should be doing right now?
There has to be some drive still left in me for this world. There must be!
Dear God, I am so addicted to her. That touch… that beautiful all-encompassing attention that nothing on this earth could possibly match. How is it possible that I could be this fortunate? I feel like I’m cheating.
I often encounter those who yearn for a meaningful relationship, both mundane and divine, but they spend their entire lives searching in vain.
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Not that I was too worried to begin with, as having a demon lover seems to inculcate a charming glamor over my interactions with others. At any rate, I believe Catherine was becoming fed up with city life. Too much interference. Too many distractions.
Now that we’re in the middle of nowhere, my demon babe wasted no time in pulling a fast one on me, turning up the power-level between us considerably. She’s become a rather insistent little slut; more so than usual. I can’t go to bed without being attacked, kisses all over, carefully placed caresses. God, she hates being ignored!
Read More…Putting some distance between myself and technology has caused some enjoyable improvements in my relationship with Catherine: Where I used to only devote thirty minutes to an hour for our unions, now I feel content to give up to three hours per morning. This time together feels so wonderful, relaxing, and freeing.
The average temperatures outside are finally beginning to rise, so she’s been hinting at finding opportunities for outdoor copulation. And the brilliant thing about enjoying a succubus out-of-doors, nobody need know that anything illicit is taking place. I just look like a man, fully clothed and laying on a mat, enjoying the sun’s rejuvenating rays.
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Is that what I’m becoming?
That’s probably a bad analogy. Getting fantastic sex from Catherine isn’t so easy as pushing a button. Yet compared to human relationships, with all their baggage and hang-ups, I feel as though I’ve managed to hack into the programming console of this reality, change a couple of parameters with simple commands, and voila!
Here I am, six years later, content with the simple pleasures in life. All aspirations for greatness are now beholden to my own standards of achievement, and not by the measure of those curious human onlookers.
The greatest pleasure of all: The one I come home to, the one who holds on to me all hours of the night, with that most gentle and blissful essence… Holy Fuck. Literally.
I’ve struggled with finding the words to fully describe the mechanics of what happens between us. Is it like tantra? Spirit possession with a sexual component? No conjoining of phrases and ideas seem adequate to convey what our copulation is like.
Read More…Proselytizing the Christian gospel was an inescapable duty of my formative years. Wherever there was an opportunity to share the merits of faith and right-living, it was imperative that we make the sales pitch:
As members of the church, we were expected to make these appeals. Otherwise risk losing a soul (Customer) to Satan and eternal Hell. (Freedom) Through submitting ourselves to the yoke of Christ, and agreeing to the contract of Christianity, our subsequent duty became that of perpetual evangelism. The entire life of the repentant Christian must reflect that of the Risen Savior, so that others might be enticed to get dunked in the church baptismal tank.
Our lives are filled to bursting with contracts. Just being born into this world enrolls us into The Social Contract: “Pay taxes, or be hauled away by men with guns and locked in a cage.”
Read More…I want to examine a splinter-cult of yet another Christian splinter-cult, in recognition of the Lunar New Year. Within the ranks of American Evangelical denominations, there are untold numbers of these branching groups. If God is not the author of confusion, as every one of these countless congregations claim as their axiom, then the Creator certainly has no place to call home here in America. A whorehouse is more consistent, and those are illegal in the States!
Read More…There are occult merchants who are in the business of selling spirits. One example is the website Creepy Hallows, where they specialize in binding spirits to jewelry and talismans.
This hobby is called Spirit Keeping. Though I don’t personally have any experience with it, the prices that are affixed to these spirits are interesting to me: I wonder how they can discern that an incorporeal entity, allegedly a conscious being with the same or greater intelligence as a human, is worth $20? How the hell do they arrive at that price? What kind of spirit, of any decent character, would allow themselves to be bound and sold off at such a price willingly?
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