Skip to main content

The Five Finger Frolic

(Although I am an active member, I do not speak for the Church of Satan) 

"I don't crave companionship. It stands in my way. I live for pleasure. There are few persons who can give me as much pleasure as those acts I perform myself. I would rather create pleasure according to my own whim than be subjected to the whims of others."
―Anton Szandor LaVey

Of the sexual encounters I have had in my life, there are only a few which I considered mind-blowing. I can only count them on one hand. Yes, five fingers. 

I was never much of a pickup artist; I always found it to be rude. I could never be bothered. The best experiences I had sexually were the people who found me usually by happenstance or sometimes by just turning on my old, strange, charm. I admit I am a weird one at times, and I am okay with that. I was never much of a try-hard with sexual encounters, but I never found myself in the pangs of sexual frustration or rapt in the angst of loneliness. When it comes to pickup artistry, I do not have the time nor inclination to talk to people who—more often than not—would bore me to tears post-orgasm. As mentioned in the quote above, "There are few persons who can give me as much pleasure as those acts I perform myself." Right on Doktor, and I am the very same way when it comes to sex. I was never one to shy away from meeting up with rosy palm and her five sisters. Better to have a fun experience alone than with a dreary one being around someone who makes me feel alone. 

I grew up in a household where masturbation is perceived as a sin. I did not share in this sentiment or felt dirty doing it as a child, and that was one of the things that drew me to Satanism: Its standpoint on "choking the chicken." Hell, the Satanic Bible spends several pages discussing masturbation in detail within its chapter of Satanic Sex. But there is one passage which is especially germane to this writing:

 "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." (pg.73)

The self-denial of non-masturbation is especially a problem for the fellas because men usually feel shame about jerking off. Although these feelings from a societal point are slowly subsiding, there is a resurgence of groups encouraging men to cease playing with themselves. One such group is the No Fap movement, found within the dark, dank halls of the internet. I have no problem with anyone improving themselves (as they claim the purpose of no fap is); however, a lot of these groups take such non-masturbatory goals to religious fervor. I have read posts from men who have gone so far as to feel suicidal because they have "broken their promise." And what is the reason for this piety of not pulling the pud? Many men who join these groups believe that not masturbating will increase their testosterone, thus making them more attractive to women. These men would rather have a partner that they find subpar than engage in playing alone in a satisfying experience. 

What nonsense! I have always thought that changing who and what I am to be attractive to someone was a waste of time. If she (or he) is attracted to something I am not, then I won't bother. Extinguishing myself is a betrayal that I won't do. This idea has suited me fine in the past and continues to do so now. Our society views men who enjoy solo-pleasure as less than a man. Such emasculation goes beyond the realm of masturbation and into the area of sex toys as well. In my personal experience, women have not had as much of a problem firing up some fancy toy and going to town! Men are more reluctant to admit they have toys, let alone a full-figured love doll for them to simulate a sexual relationship. 

Oh, yes, the love dolls. Satanism has no problem with this, and any Satanist who would insult an owner of one would be admonished to brush up on their study of artificial human companionship. The love dolls of today are becoming more realistic, and the market is growing by the day. I can say with confidence that the Doktor's fourth stanza in Pentagonial Revisionism is coming true and that Satanists should pay close attention. It is an industry for which I am highly interested. After all, one reason for owning such a doll is to engage in a glorified version of masturbation. 

My message to the gentlemen reading this is to enjoy yourself. There is no shame, at all, in having a good time alone. So spank the monkey, pull the pud, beat your meat, blow your own horn, play the skin flute, wax your carrot, wrestle your eel, choke the bishop, and wack off. For hell's sake, turn on something that gets you going and enjoy the five finger frolic! 


Popular posts from this blog

Satanism, The White Man's Religion?

"Satanism? You sure picked the whitest religion to join!" Said a friend of mine, in jest, when I disclosed to him my membership in the Church of Satan. I chuckled at the joke, it did get me thinking as to why there are so many melanin-challenged individuals within the ranks of the Alien Elite. Not that this is a pressing issue, mind you, but it is something I have thought about. I have heard this sentiment shared before from others. So I, dear reader, as someone who is a mutt of a Satanist, will, to the best of my ability, probe into this matter. Satanists are born, not made. This is a common adage amongst Satanists, and I believe it stands true. The trait is rare amongst humans, most of which can be nothing more than—as Magus Gilmore puts it—“Media Bessoted drones." (from his essay, Satanism: The Feared Religion) And what in the media is being more and more discussed? Race. I tire of such discussions, but somebody has to do the dirty work, so I guess it is goin

The First Rite!

(Although I am a member, I do not speak for the Church of Satan) During the final week of May, I went to a gathering of Satanists. All attendees were dressed up to the nine's and had cheerful faces. Food and drink were in abundance, booze, and smokes were a-plenty, and there was, overall, jovial energy that permeated the entire household. To onlookers who observed some of us congregating outside, they saw a group of snazzily dressed individuals. But to those of us involved, there was something far more 'diabolical' going on. (cue thunder, lightning, and maniacal laughter) The roles were set, the candles lit, the altar was put upon her mantle, and I had donned white robes. This was a stark difference from the ebony garments that draped over the other attendees. We were going to have a ritual, and it was going to be one helluva good time! But this ritual was larger-than-life, for me especially. Not only was it going to be my first group ritual, but the occasion was also