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The Sacred Followers of Roscoe Forthright. Chapter Two.

a 21st Century sex cult

By Roscoe ForthrightPublished 3 years ago 35 min read
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[from the Journals of Garabed Gregorian,

edited by Roscoe Forthright]

Chapter Two. Introduction.

Every worthwhile cult has an insightful back-story. Before Roscoe explored his own spiritual sexuality, he was influenced by various religions and neo-pagan occult ideas. And he had prophetic visions. Three celestial visitations in particular shaped the development of Roscoe's ideas and his philosophy of Oneness. After having conversations with Deities from Christian, Jewish, Islamic and Buddhist pantheons, a person is forced to revise their definitions of “Reality,” to include the new, and shocking spiritual experiences. The visitations fortified Roscoe's determination to discover accurate, and all-compassing definitions of Reality. He wants to know the Truth. Not the half-truths of previous religious and scientific thought; not the half-truths of major and minor philosophers. Roscoe wants an experiential truth, a truth immediately perceived and understood, without the complex linguistic and cultural twists of logic, which are mandatory in most religions and philosophies.

His several visitations included the Archangel Gabriel, from Christian, Jewish and Islamic traditions. And also known in New Orleans, during the 1930s, as the jazz trumpet player, Gaby Silverhorn. Roscoe's second visitation was the Tibetan God, Chakrasmavara. His third visitation was with the Hindu God, Lord Shiva. Later, Roscoe met the Goat-God Pan, and spoke with him at length, as Pan pumped Amber, Gina, and Kate Wilkins from behind, in the Celestial Realm, called Azoth.

Chapter Two. Section 1. Roscoe with Gaby Silverhorn

One morning Roscoe walked out into the woods, near his cabin in the forest of British Columbia. Overnight snow had fallen, over a half-meter deep in some places. It crunched under his boots. Roscoe walked a quarter kilometer down the gravel, then left the road heading into the forest along a bough-cover path, a favorite trail of deer. The path led to a large clearing, three basalt boulders, under old growth timber. Coming around a clusters of young cedars, Roscoe stopped in surprise. An elderly native aboriginal man was sitting on the lowest boulder. He wore a new white parka, with the logo of the American ball team, the Cleveland Indians, the smiling Chief Wahoo. The elderly man wore shiny new hiking boots from Cabela's. He was whittling and oak branch with a hunting knife.

Roscoe had not expected to see anyone in this isolated spot. His closest neighbors lived over four miles away. Roscoe approached the man and said hello. The man looked up at him with a charming, warm smile and said, “Hello, young man. Beautiful day, is it not?”

“Yes.” Roscoe replied, “I love the new fallen snow. The two persons sat quietly for a few moments.

Then, Roscoe said, “I am Roscoe Forthright, visiting from Washington State. My girl-friends have a cabin not far from here. Do you live around here?”

The elderly man smiled and said,”Oh no, no not at all. I am just passing through. I travel a lot. And I have not been to Canada in many years.”

Roscoe asked, “What is your name?”

The man replied, “Oh, pardon me. Let me introduce myself. The people in this area call me Raven.

In other places I go by other names. I am a trumpet player.

When I lived in New Orleans, the folks called me, Gaby Silverhorn. But to most people, in most places in Hebrew, Islamic and Christian traditions I am called Gabriel.

Roscoe assumed this was a joke. He laughed and said, “You are an archangel! Like the old song, bringing down the walls of Jericho.”

“Well, yes...” the man replied, “That was me. I caught Holy Hell from Jehovah over that one. I was simply playing my horn, as The Lord God Commanded, but I got carried away, improvised a bit too long, and caused unnecessary havoc.”

Roscoe was completely silent. And the Archangel Gabriel said, “Don't look at me that way, young man. I am not crazy, and I am not anything special. I am just an average Archangel taking a few days off to go fishing, and camping in the woods.”

The Archangel continued, “ I will tell you something you probably do not know. Time and Space are useful, but they are illusions. A 20-year-old man and a 90-year-old man can be equally alert, energetic and alive in their minds and spirits. But the 90-year-old man is less able to physically express his youthful and lively spirit. The body grows old, but spirit, mind and joyfulness are eternal. Sometimes the body declines, the mind and spirit leave, exit to other realms, sometime years before the physical bod dies. This fact of fluidity, the illusion of space and time allows me to travel. My job and my Boss, Jehovah, requires me to travel across time, at times to places which are nonexistent, when viewed from 21st Century planet Earth. I keep busy. There is always some disaster somewhere, some mess to clean up. And believe me, humans are not the only beings who create colossal disasters. Gods, goddesses, angels, archangels, demons and the djinn also fuck up. Willfully or accidentally cause damage to the Celestial Universe. They make bad choices, back the wrong side in this war or in that spiritual struggle. Lucifer is the most obvious example of betting on the wrong horse.

Some celestial being remain aloof and blissfully distant, when the should be down on Earth, getting their hands dirty, getting good things done. Getting rid of the vermin, the sociopath political leaders who cause wars, and cause mass suffering for no good reason at all. Celestial being could intercede, but often they do not. Once in awhile, I get a few decades off from the Archangel business. From 1920 to 1960 I led a quiet life in New Orleans, playing jazz in local clubs, boozing it up, getting laid. Then, the Lord God gave me a job in Cuba. You know, the Cuban Missile Crisis. Those Russian rocket pointed at Washington D.C. Your pathetic leaders came within hours of achieving Actual Armageddon.

And that is not the first time I have pulled humanity's ass out of the fire.

I should tell you, being 5000 years old, I have seen civilizations come and go. Leaders are often the last people to understand and accept reality, and adapt to new realities. Leaders often cling to dead ideas, self-destructive ideas and self-destructive ideologies. I should tell you specifically, the Old Testament stories of God destroying nations are wildly exaggerated. Most nations destroy themselves. God has nothing to do with it. God is severe in defending Free Will. Humans are given Free Will, and that includes the Free Will to destroy themselves. The Free Will of a man like Hitler or Stalin causes the death of tens of millions of people. All that suffering and death could have been avoided. Ordinary people who allow Hitlers and Stalins into positions of power are equally guilty as the brutal leaders. The citizens of the United States are responsible for piles of dead bodies, in Vietnam, in Cambodia, in the Iraq and Afghan wars, and in other places were their were no U.S. soldiers, but piles of U.S. made munitions. U.S. rockets and bombs blowing people up. You might wish to blame your leaders, but you must also blame yourselves for putting those leaders in power.”

Gabriel paused for a long time. “I am sorry, my young friend Roscoe. What past generations did is not your fault. But your own young people, the people who now vote for leaders, are often equally taken in by outrageous lies. They also have the capacity to vote for sociopath leaders who drop bombs and sell munitions. After watching humanity for 5000 years, I can say I am deeply disappointed. I did not intend to spout my anger at you. Simply get angry about it all from time to time.

Please, let's go for a walk.”

As Gabriel stood up, Roscoe notice a slight shimmer, an iridescence in the air around the Angel. The Angel wore a furry winter hat with ear-flaps. Snow crunched under the thick soles of his new boots.

The Angel smiled to himself, thinking about “thick souls.” But he said nothing to Roscoe. The Angel and Roscoe moved through the bushes and sapling fir trees to the edge of a small pool. The pool was open to the sky, though closely surrounded by tall, densely grown old cedars, giving the impression of an outdoor nature-made cathedral. The spring-fed pool was connected to a narrow streams, gurgling half a kilometer to a lake.

Roscoe saw sunlight gleam off the distant lake. He was surprised to see freshwater flowing in the spot, in Canadian midwinter. The warmth of the air within the forest cathedral told him this was a hot spring, and steam now swirled above the surface of the pool. Roscoe could see trout in the crystal clear water, moving slowly ten meters below the surface. This sacred place stood bright in midday sunlight, with shadows of the cedars playing on the surface, as boughs swayed in a slight breeze. This church was silent, except for the gurgling water and three ravens talking to each other in the treetops.

Archangel Gabriel took off his fur coat and laid in the snow. He wore an intricately patterned blue and white Norwegian sweater of wool. He also took off the sweater and now stood in blue jeans and black tee-shirt from Old Navy. Roscoe laughed out loud, seeing an Archangel wearing an Old Navy logo.

The Angel did not notice. He raised his arms slowly, chest high The wand he had been whittling was pointed skyward in his right hand. Gabriel caste the sign of the pentacle over the waters, the occult five-pointed star. Next, he caste the six-pointed Star of David, and finally the four-armed Christian Cross. He said nothing during these ritual gestures. Archangels do not need to say anything. The Elemental Spirits, the Cosmos Itself is responsive to Invocations of Archangels.

Roscoe realized, Gabriel was using the forest pool as a scrying pool, as soothsayers use a mirror or a crystal ball. Moment after Gabriel's invocation a mist formed over the entire pond, and in the mist a vision came into focus. The image became a high-resolution wide-screen vision of ancient Egypt. Roscoe knew this was not 21st Century Egypt, because the Great Pyramid of Giza was only half-built.

Workmen were milling about, drinking beer, as if on an afternoon break.

Gabriel turned to Roscoe and said: “I will be going now. It was a pleasure to meet you, Roscoe. I hope we will meet again someday. You are a good fellow. An honest, intelligent man, with a good head on your shoulders. Unfortunately, you live in difficult times. Your powerful people often work for personal gain, and do not care at all for the survival of your civilization. Don't let the bullshit, and endless propaganda of your leaders get you down. Remain creative, clever and cheerful. Most every civilization rest heavily on mountains of bullshit, and yours is no exception. At some point, 20 years from now, 80, 100 or 200 years from now, your civilization will cease to exist, or be entirely unrecognizable as a worthwhile civilization. This happens to all civilizations. Yours is no exception.

Your arrogant, irrational leaders think the gravy train goes on forever! Feel grateful for your ability to see through cultural, social and political lies. Enhance your capacity to view Actual Reality, the Actual Truth which exists. This is the Reality you and I live in, entirely separate from the invented, fictitious and completely inaccurate version of reality, pushed by your government and corporate leaders.

Here with you today, I can say with complete accuracy: You and I exist within the Oneness, which is the Living, Joyful, Active Mind of God. Most of your world leadership has no notion of this large and wondrous Reality. They operate within their small defective imaginations, and make small and defective decisions. Like World War I, and World War II and all the rest of your death-cult wars. Many of your current world leaders, in politics and in business are death-cult apocalypse zombies.

Today, in these woods my Boss, the Lord God Jehovah, wants you to know His Godly Personification is Laughable. You exist within the Oneness of His Mind. All things exist and are spiritually interconnected Within the Oneness of the Living, Joyful Active Mind of God. Oneness is a more accurate term for His Existence. The word God, always contains fuzzy attributes of man-made gods.”

Archangel Gabriel shook Roscoe's right hand warmly. Then turned facing the pool, and became a shimmering ball of golden light. The shimmering ball which was once the native aboriginal man, mingled with the mist, and became indistinguishable from the mist around the far side of the pond.

A moment later, Roscoe saw Archangel Gabriel appear inside the vision of ancient Egypt. Gabriel was dressed in the clothes of an Egyptian trader, with a long brown cloak. In his hands he held the reins of a large camel. With one hand he strokes the camel's head. Standing there in ancient Egypt, Gabriel turned and looked up, directly at Roscoe. Let let go of the camel's reins and waved at Roscoe with both hand, smiling and laughing. Then Gabriel turned away, leading the camel toward the unfinished Great Pyramid of Giza.

Within ten minutes the vision of Egypt faded completely, leaving afternoon sunlight sparkling on the surface of the pool. Roscoe sat in the snow looking at the pond above the hot-spring, the hot-spring which fed the pond, the pond which fed the stream, the stream which fed the shimmering lake. This is how thing flow from One Source. Roscoe sat there quietly for twenty minutes, with joyful tears streaming over his cheeks. Roscoe Forthright, the creator of 78 short porn films, the enthusiastic boinker of beautiful young women, the writer, composer and future leader of the Sacred Followers of Roscoe Forthright sat quietly in the woods on Vancouver Island, British Columbia. He knew he had just experienced a Biblical miracle, and spent the morning and early afternoon with Archangel Gabriel, the trumpet-player, Gaby Silverhorn.

Chapter Two. Section 2.

Roscoe Forthright and Kate Wilkins with Chakrasamavara

In total, over a period of three months, Roscoe probably shot semen into, onto, or very close to Kate eight or nine times. He never concerns himself with accurate accounting of sploodge. He got naked with her, and made videos with her twelve times, and not every video contains a cumshot.

These two adult humans get along fabulously, with good humor, cheerfulness and no small amount of mutual love and tenderness. Of course, there were no implied romantic commitments in their lusty relationship. Roscoe remains, the filmmaker. And Kate, the hot, young naked girl having orgasms. Roscoe only spoke briefly, in casual ways, about the serious intentions of his films, meaning: the furtherance of human spiritual knowledge through the medium of x- rated, heterosexual cinema.

That noble intention is a bit much for most people to take-in. And most, people would simply roll their eyes to heaven, thinking, “Wonderful. Just what we all need. Another artistic genius and guru, wanting us to find God, Higher Consciousness and Spiritual Enlightenment through the popular ritual we call Fucking. Masturbatory, oral, vaginal and even anal fucking. Yeah, sure. That's just what we all need in 2021 in the United States of America, and on the World Wide Web!”

Roscoe is aware, his religious philosophy is likely to be ignored, laughed at, and completely misunderstood by 95% of his viewers. Which leads to interesting math, based on the tabulated views his 40 videos have received online: 1,043,821 views in the past 4 years. That means, there are potentially 52,191 people who might honestly grasp what Roscoe is talking about, and want to know more about it. Of that open-minded and spiritually curious 5%, there may be a few hundred people, who have already been thinking and worshiping in ways similar to his own. With his tongue inside Kate's orgasmic vagina, Roscoe sincerely hopes Kate is among the 5% of people open to

the idea of spiritual sexuality. Roscoe really, really hopes Kate may come, literally cum, to appreciate his spiritual ideas, and wish to know more about the whole, weird and lusty pagan philosophy.

To his great pleasure and surprise, as she is in the middle of an orgasm, sitting on Roscoe's face, Kate cries out: “Thank you, Great Horned-God! I want your Sacred Semen in my mouth! I want your Thick Cosmic Cock, pounding my pussy from behind!”

Roscoe said, “I can help you with that, young lady. Please, bend over on your elbows and knees.”

Kate laughed, said nothing, and changed her position to make her fanny ready for Roscoe's modest- sized, yet gloriously enthusiastic erection. At this point things got hallucinogenic, even in Roscoe's estimation of reality. A glowing lime-colored orb became visible, surrounding the couple on all sides. Roscoe knelt and Kate lay on a queen-size mattress, raised up by a wooden platform, in the center of Roscoe's photography studio. The room was about twenty feet wide, and the lime-colored orb filled the room. Roscoe and Kate were positioned in the center of the orb, as the light pulsed and changed colors in a repeated, slow sequence: Lime, purple, turquoise, forest green, orange, golden yellow, shimmering silver, and dark red. It took almost a minute for the orb to cycle through these color changes.

Surprised, but not distracted, Roscoe continued to pump Kate from behind, gripping her soft, round fanny firmly in his strong hands. Kate exhaled small and large moans at the apex of every thrust. The orb was contracting around them, now only inches away from Kate's head and Roscoe's ass. Its texture was watery and translucent, perhaps an inch thick, and behind the first orb, a larger brighter orb appeared. The second sphere enclosed the first sphere. The second sphere also rotated through a series of colors, swirling behind the colors of the inner sphere. By now, this phenomenon became completely distracting to the lovers. Roscoe disengaged from copulation, and both humans sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what the hell is going on. Roscoe and Kate hear a clear, male voice, in plain, unaccented English, speak the following words: “I am Chakrasamvara. I arrive in swirling colors, as my True Form might shock and upset you. I wish to transmit One Divine Teaching. You will listen now. Pay close attention to every word. Remember every word.”

Both humans sit alert in anticipation. But there is only silence and swirling colors for several minutes

Then the voice returns. To Roscoe it sounds over-dramatic, like the deep, resonant narration of some Bollywood epics. Too manly. Exaggerated. Over-acted. Nonetheless, he pays close attention.

Chakrasamvara speaks: “Oneness is the worthy goal of your orgasms. The sacred cock and the sacred vagina exist to create the Cosmic Joy, beyond the small gates of human joy. Properly perceived, each satisfying orgasm brings you closer to God, closer to Oneness with all other humans, with all other beings, with planets, stars, galaxies, and all beings within those galaxies. To see only the small gates, to experience only the small joys, wastes many human lifetimes. Only those who look further, advance the progress of human reality. Do not waste your lifetime, filling it with small unimportant joys.”

The god stopped talking. And the double-swirling spheres faded slowing into non-existence.

Roscoe got up and went to his laptop, to Google-search: Chakrasamvara. He was glad he said nothing to piss off this particular god. Roscoe brought the laptop to Kate, to show her various high resolution images of Chakrasamvara (pronounced "Chakra-some-vahra".) In the traditional mandalas, Chakrasamvara sits in a proud, militant pose, firmly embracing his partner, Vajravarahi. Chakrasamvara is a powerful god (a wrathful deity or yidam) in Buddhism. In many traditional mandalas, Chakrasamvara's fully erect cock is held tightly inside Vajravarahi's vagina. Often we only see the God's big blue balls. Chakrasamvara often appears with godly blue skin, and his consort with pink, tan or red human skin. Her breasts are large, her nipples erect. Both deities are sexually aroused, and ready for more action. In Tibetan Buddhist teaching, their divine embrace is a metaphor for the union of great bliss and emptiness, which are one and the same essence, a Oneness, rather than a romantic couple having a good time.

When looking at the detail of such mandalas, we notice the Blue God wears a garland of fifty moist human heads hangs about his neck, and he has a row of five skulls above his forehead. Clearly, this is a god no one wishes to piss off.

Chapter Two. Section 3. Roscoe with Lord Shiva

Roscoe measures the girls, and measures Capt Evil, so a seamstress will create four witch-cloaks in deep purple, green, black and dark brown. Red cords of red cotton rope will serve as belts for these cloaks. Each girl will also wear a red-leather bondage collar, a studded dog-collar with dangling silver chains and silver nipple clips. (Roscoe is not certain if he will use the nipple clips in the ritual, but they add visual charm, especially for the BDSM crowd.)

Roscoe and Capt. Evil spend six days camping in the forest, walking eight to ten miles each day, scouting for the best location. Neither man has been camping since they were boy scouts. For Roscoe this was 45 years ago, in the woods of northern Michigan. For Capt. Evil this was only 8 years ago in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. They discover they have retained many outdoor skills, pitching a tent, building a lean-to, fishing from shore, building a campfire and cooking on that fire. The younger man was a prankster, often inventing cheerful fun. He was assisted by his loyal scout troop. As their senior officer, he commanded respect, especially when he made the other boys laugh. Once, on being told a girl-scout troop was coming to visit, coming to stay overnight, Capt. Evil rallied his men. The boys decorated the girl's cabin with colorful bras and panties (stolen from the drawers of the boys older sisters.) On another occasion, the Capt. and his trusted lieutenants caught five chipmunks, and released them in the dining hall, at noon on Jamboree Day when all the Boy Scout big-shots and many astonished parents were having cherry and pumpkin pie.

Now, in his early 20's Capt. Evil retains the playful name given him as a leader of Boy Scouts. Between the ages of 15 and 21 one, the young man acquired many tattoos, which make the name, Capt. Evil even more appropriate. When he began to appear in porn films, the nickname became the film persona, and hundreds of girls wet their panties, watching the handsome, slender young man with super-sexy tattoos pump females to orgasm!

Having found a suitable location, Roscoe rents a cabins, stocks it with supplies and makes a quick trip to Seattle to gather the witch-robes, and the girls. His witches, Carolina, Beth and Kate are all eager for a road trip, a vacation in the woods, away from Covid, and Black Lives Matter and all the other current intense bullshit of living in a major city in the United States of America. They began shooting the following day.

We see a wide-view, a misty forest, firs, cedars, spruce, large maple and black cottonwood trees. Our attention focuses on the silhouette of a grove of giant cedars, towering in the half-lit sky. We hear rustlings, gentle wind in the boughs, crickets, frogs and other early morning forest sounds. Our view narrows, passes between the dark trees like a slow flying bird, to reveal a silent lake. We pause at the shore. A trout jumps, the splash echoes, and ring of concentric circle widen from where the fish had been. We hear the eerie, haunting voice of a loon, quiet at first, then filling the air over the lake, as if some evil will soon occur. A great horned owl, flaps quickly by, startled from high branches. A bullfrog begins to boom, as if at our feet, increasing our sense of dread. The fog over the lake now appears ominous, moving slowly, in thick billows toward the shore. The camera turns, as if running back into the woods, following a deer trail along a narrow gurgling stream. We hear panting, as if the cameraman is terrified, trying to escape some horrible menace. We reach a clearing, where the cameraman stops, leaning on a thick maple tree to catch his breath. We hear him growing calmer. We still here the loon, far off, as background to the loud, gurgling stream.

Our view widens to take in the entire clearing. We see lush ferns four to six feet high, bright green moss and orange plate-size mushrooms cling to fallen cedar trees.

Suddenly, we hear a strong gust of wind toss the high cedar branches. Two crows start up an angry conversation, raucous accusing each other of some awful social blunder. The argument continues as we peek past a tangle of blackberry vines and milk thistles. The crows grow silent. We hear only a solitary wood thrush some distance away. Under a canopy of fir and cedar trees we see three female witches hooded in green, black and dark brown ropes. The robes are open to the waist, revealing firm, pale white breasts. Each woman wears a red leather collar; silver chains dangle down between their breasts. The witches stand around a wide cedar stump, which rises chest-high from the mossy forest floor. The stump has is six feet wide or more, and has been polished to a smooth finish, lacquered in clear varnish. On this high-gloss surface two three-foot high red candle burn to the left and right. This is their altar. This is the place of sacrifice.

A tall, slender man enters the scene. He pushes back the hood of his deep purple robe, to reveal a noble face, a head covered in thick red curls. His closely trimmed beard and mustache are also red. This is their High Priest of the Coven. He brings out a dagger and carves a pentagram, a small precise pentagram on the smooth surface of the altar. He then approached the witch dressed in black. He pulls back her hood, and grabs her thick auburn hair in one hand, dragging her with him to stand in front of the altar. He unties her belt, strips her naked and kisses her firmly on the mouth. His strong hands squeeze both her breasts as he kisses her. His hand move to her fanny, squeezing both cheeks as he continues kissing her. Pointing with his hand to the soft moss at his feet, the High Priest commands: “Kneel, Sister Witch! The Horned-God grows impatient!” ~~ The nude woman goes down on her hands and knees, and the High Priest uses her round fanny as a stepping stone, raising himself up on top of the altar.

He gestures for the girl to rise, which she does, putting on her black robe and returning to stand with the other girls behind the altar. The High Priest takes off his robe, spreading his feet wide, to stand nude in the center of the altar. The camera moves to a close-up of the man's feet, and moves slowly up his body, showing his ankles, the raven tattoo and skull tattoos on his shins, up to his knees. The camera comes to a full stop, as if in shock, the man's long dangling penis filling our vision. Nothing in the universe exists, we here silence, awe-struck silence of eternity as we view the eight-inch soft phallus, with cedars trees to either side. We wonder what this beautiful flesh might look like fully erect! Slowly, the camera continues up the man's flat belly, up to his muscular chest, up to his handsome face, strong and kind face.

The camera pulls back, allowing us to see the entire altar. The witches now stand with their hands pressed together before their chests, in the tradition gesture of Christian prayer. We understand from the documentary subtitles, “90% of Wiccans in the United States and Canada are were raised as Catholics. Ritual appeals to them.” The witch in black moves to the left of the altar. The witch in brown moves to the right. The witch in green moves to the front of the altar, facing the High Priest. All three girls strip to the waist, the red cord holding the fallen robes like long dresses falling to their feet. We notice their nipples are contracted and erect in the the cool morning air. The witch in black lays cedar boughs on the alter in front of the High Priest. The witch in green moves close to the altar, and the High Priest kneels in front of her on the cedar boughs. The witch in green stands on her tiptoes, lifting herself up to take the High Priest's soft phallus into her mouth. She sucks it slowly, lovingly, clearly enjoying the warm, smooth flesh as it grows large and fills her mouth. Fully erect, the girl can barely get half of the cock into her mouth. She concentrates her attention on the glorious wide cockhead. The witches in black and brown now spread cedar bough across the altar, being careful not to knock over the two large red candles.

“All three witches ascend the Altar of the Horned-God” (we see this in a subtitle) as the girls climb up, and remove their robes. They kneel around the High Priest, ready, expectant.

The High Priest is now standing and offers his full erection to the witches. They take turns sucking the Sacred Member. When they do not have the cock in their mouths, the kiss and caress his smooth-shaven balls, stroke his firm thighs and fanny. After some time the High Priest claps his hands loudly, the clapping echoes in the silent woods. The witches withdraw from him, and he sits between them, crossed-legged like a yogi. The witches then draw close, two laying their heads in his lap, one laying her head between his feet. The man's cock is still, rigid, fully erect. His cock begins to shimmer and radiate a deep purple light, the cock itself gradually contains this purple cock, the flesh-tone altogether gone. The witches feel radiant warm and energy emanating from the purple cock. They move they faces and mouths close to the pulsing purple cock, their eyes tearful in awe and admiration. Each girl closes one hand around it, as if stacking hands on a warm, glowing purple baseball bat.

Now the cockhead vibrates sound, a resonant humming ~ OOMMMMM. The cockhead changes color to an azure blue, while the shaft remains deep purple. The Holy Phallus vibrates and throbs as the witches kiss it from all angles. At this moment the High Priest, the tattooed, handsome, muscular and healthy young man appears to be in seizure! His eyes roll up and back in his head. There is an ominous gurgle in his manly throat. His tongue lolls out, as if his had lost control of it. Something is not right. Some inner torment is shaking the young man. His limbs tremble. Not knowing what to do, the three girls in complete dismay, continue to kiss, stroke and suck the throbbing purple cock with the azure cockhead. They desperately hope the seizure will subside and pass.

At last, the crisis is over. The High Priest is serene. A smile spreads over his relaxed face. In a voice not his own, a rich tenor voice (not the soft bass voice of the young man) the witches hear the following words: “Remain calm, young ladies. The Lord Shiva now commands the body of your High Priest. He is still here, unharmed, watching you and loving you. Your ceremony, intended to summon the pagan god, had summoned me, Lord Shiva, the Destroyer of Worlds. Be not afraid. There is nothing in your minds or hearts which needs destroying. You are all noble Seekers of Truth. Unintentionally, you have performed the precise rites to bring me into Manifestation. I appear before you, to speak my mind, to speak in plain English, to be easily understood by people of the 21st Century. The Phallic Rite, sucking and stroking the Cosmic Cock, the sincerity of your intentions ~ even though you be actresses making a movie ~ your powerful sexual desire had brought you exactly what you desired.

You should be made aware, I am the pagan Horned-God, and I am also one-hundred-fifty-seven thousands other Gods, on twenty thousand world. I span your known Universe. I precede and follow the creation of every planet capable of sustaining intelligent life. I create and I destroy. This is my Cosmic Nature. In the sacred literature of India, in the Vedas, nothing is as sacred, as holy as worshiping my erect phallus or images of my erect phallus.”

The Lord Vishnu laughs ~ “Truly, very few humans get to see my Living Cock in person. Consider yourselves blessed! In the past ten thousand years, only 512 men and women have seen my Living Cock, enjoyed the throbbing purple with the azure cockhead.” The god is silent for a moment. “Only 43 human females have tasted my purple and azure skin, and tasted my lime-orange, sweet-flavored semen.” Lord Shiva smiles warmly.

Lord Shiva continues, “ It is no accident the creative energy and power of the Cosmos is Masculine, and the creative receiver, birth-mother and teacher is Feminine. Both the Sacred Cock and the Sacred Vagina are essential to the swirling of planets and galaxies, to keep everything in its orbit, to send comets as messenger across vast distances. To move the celestial bodies and move human minds, to keep human minds in balance, to move human minds away from methods and forms of self-delusion and self-destruction. I will say clearly: your 20th Century was the most destructive era of human history, and many bad ideas from that century are still in play in the 21st Century. Self-delusion and self-destruction continue because tens of millions of people remain unaware, uneducated to the basic facts of their Cosmic Existence. Leaders of nations are especially arrogant and uninformed. Many seem to enjoy being uninformed, and listen to no one other than themselves. The minds and bodies of such men and women are separate from the Oneness, they know nothing about the Oneness. They may have heard of it in school or from the mouths and writings of a few saints, but they do not believe one word of it. Their vanities and egos blot out all rational thought and all learning regarding larger Cosmic Realities. They have had little education about Divine Truth. And they have no interest in such education.

The religious beliefs of large, well-respected churches fall short. Your philosophic schools and modern science, all fall pathetically short of accurate descriptions of reality. The science do exceptionally well in describing physical reality, and some forms of energy transfer, but they miss 90% of the larger picture. This is the downside of creating and spread dogmas, be they religious or scientific. What all humans need are accurate and useful definitions of reality, and not just physical, scientifically measurable reality. I come to teach you some basic facts, and hope you will share this knowledge with other people. Here is one eternal fact: Each living human being is an essential, active cell in the living tissue of the Universe. Hundreds of years of suffering would will not happen, millions of citizen would not die in wars and deprivation, if leaders of nations and large populations of people understood that one basic fact.”

Lord Shiva continues, “The Cosmos Itself relies on daily interaction between healthy, joyful living cells. When millions are killed for no good reason in wars, or specific acts of violence, the Universe Itself is harmed and diminished. When a planet such as yours, continues to perpetuate self-destruction, the citizens learning nothing worthwhile at all, over centuries of war and slavery. When millions of people are killed in wars, in specific acts of violence or deglect, the Universe Itself is harmed and diminished. When a planet such as yours continues to perpetuate self-destruction, to perpetuate arrogant, ignorant ideologies for the sake of enslaving people, your world causes damage to the creative and positive energy of your galaxy. In such cases, I step in, and annihilate the planet. If the disease has been particularly pernicious, I annihilate the whole star system, and sometimes the whole galaxy. Bad behavior by a handful of powerful humans, on one world, depletes and destroys the creative spiritual energy of other planets, even uninhabited planets. As Shiva the Destroyer, I am the Ultimate Solution to the bad behavior of your selfish, small-minded, uninspiring, short-sighted global leaders.”

Chapter Two. Section 4.

This opening scene of Roscoe Forthright's fake documentary was nothing at all what he had expected. He certainly would never have imaged Lord Shiva Himself would show up, and give an insightful lecture on the failings of world leaders! The film was well-received on x-rated streaming video services, as well as a few favorable reviews from obscure Eastern European and South American film festivals. The artsy critics labeled the film as being “cutting edge”, “prophetic” and “innovative and startling.” None of this mattered at all, because most views never read those reviews. By far Roscoe's audience continued to be 90% casual porn viewers, who simply wanted to jack-off and get on with their lives. They were not looking for any form of spiritual salvation. None of the artsy critics mentioned what Lord Shiva had to say. The homosexual critics were more impressed by Shiva' pulsing purple and azure cock, and the young man playing that role. In particular, all audiences commented on the dazzling final moments, when Shiva leaves the body of the High Priest, and the young man tan and pink, large, glistening erection sways in the bright morning sun.

The three witches kneel around him, their face ecstatic and expectant, mouths open and tongues out, ready to receive the God's Semen. The High Priest gushes one, two, three, four~~~~ bursts of cream onto their faces and into their mouths. The young man is full of joy, as each woman takes his still hard cock into their mouths, to suck away every last drop of sploodge.

(Both the gay men, and all heterosexual reviewers commented on the powerful philosophic impact of that last scene. Some said it changed their lives, making them want to take holy vows and read the Bhagavad Gita.)

Two weeks after shooting the film in the Olympic National Park, Lord Shiva showed up in Roscoe's film studio. He has wearing a flowery orange and yellow Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda bright blue shorts with flamingos. He said, “Roscoe, I do not believe I said everything I needed to say in your film. Could we please make more video? I wish to add some commentary to my previous sermon.” ~~ Roscoe was amazed by this 2nd Holy Visitation! He fired-up his LED spot lights, and turned on his camera. Lord Shiva sat in a comfortable wicker chair, (still wearing his all-too-human bright eye-catching summer wear.) The Lord Shiva said: “I have previously used The Body Analogy, saying each human being is an essential cell in the living body of the Cosmos. In this comparison, we notice the the brain cell does not demean the skin cell, and the skin cell does not demean the busy blood cell. The blood cell being the clean-up crew, collecting and disposing the garbage from all parts of the body. The blood cell truly appreciates the cells lining the lower colon, the cells which making pooping possible and efficient. Every part of a healthy body appreciates the excellent and important work of all the other cells. In a healthy organism, full of creative vitality and pulsing with life, all the cell must work together in Oneness. When a brain cell, or an out-of-control immune system attempt to conquer and rule the other cells, to push them around in a dictatorial and aggressive way, the only result is revolt and various degrees of self-destruction. Likewise, when business or political leaders decide they are more important than other people, and their ideas and their way of doing things are the only way, and they push that agenda on the rest of society, pushing self-destructive behaviors into the lives of tens of millions of people. The people have three choices: acquiesce to the dictatorial control, roll over and die, or revolt. Not one of these three choices is good for the society or the civilization. The body is fighting against itself. Individuals no longer see them selves as an integral part of the Oneness. And the leaders falsely believe they are in charge of the the Oneness, keeping it all together. They are, in reality, destroying the Oneness by misusing their power. When a sense of Oneness is gone, or never truly existed, the society murders itself in one hundred thousand different ways. ~~ In my Cosmic role as Shiva the Destroyer, I am truly amazed by what human did to each other, deliberately, during the 20th Century. Many the failed philosophies of the 20th Century have been dragged into the 21st Century, and are already causing horrors. The Communist Party of China enslaving its people, millions of citizens in the Mid-East, Africa, Mexico and Central America fleeing failed governments, hoping not to die, hoping to build some reasonable way of life elsewhere.

When such things occur, on such a global scale, I truly enjoy my work as Shiva the Destroyer. When small-minded people take over entire countries or entire planets, enslaving huge populations, I do not pretend to care. I annihilate the entire enterprise. And let life start over elsewhere.”

End of Chapter Two.

[Chapter Three, next week.]

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About the Creator

Roscoe Forthright

Erotic filmmaker and novelist. I use x-rated heterosexual short films as a tool for spiritual enlightenment. Laugh all you want. This actually works for many people. Fucking is universal! And very popular!

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