Writer: SuckMySin
Subject: The Problem With Atheism
Link: LS666 Email / 16.02.2026
Author’s Note: Hey XP, getting write to it, below is my installment, hope you like it.
The Problem with Atheism
While I was blaspheming, stroking my cock to transgressive thoughts, a problem appeared: atheism. What Sade’s Juliette said at the end of the book, as she threw the baby into the volcano, was a shocking revelation. Atheism means there is no God to transgress.
But suddenly the solution appeared. It was vile. Terrifying, and I was turned on. Good exists; it’s what essentially strives to keep civilization going. People coexisting create meaning, and art seems to be its spirit. But then, would evil mean simply destruction?
In fact, no, although several people would describe evil as their source of pleasure. I, by no means, am here to account for objective evil, but my subjective evil truth that I serve. This is selfishness, serving my sexual pleasure. I want civilization to keep existing, so I may find endless resources.
And, no, I don’t abolish co-existence, but only want to be accepted with people of my kind, the rest of the world, their suffering, their death becomes endless material to enrich us. Hence, our bond becomes how we can navigate and bend it to our collective will.
As I kept stroking, I regained my faith. I felt Lilith was speaking to me. What I called and complained about, as atheism, was just my finite being, without the infinite that manifests in me. But I believe there is a divide in the community, where others blaspheme in safety, and others engage with the real world, and I have chosen the latter.
Last thing to add. I was only able to come to this journey by debasing myself and killing every other complex experience and understanding of mine, reducing myself to a whore, someone who only serves his pleasure.
Post nut clarity means I have done my duty, and nothing else, to reduce my life to the hardness and softness of my cock. But then, evil began to appear. I picture a whore, a mature woman, poisoning my mother. And every stroke, every movement as we fuck, is constantly affirming, engaging, approving, enjoying the act she has done. Not mere sensual pleasure.
Further, I don’t rationalize why mom had to die; I retain my full empathy, her goodness, her kindness, her sacrifice, and with full awareness that this transgressive act can only sustain for weeks of pleasure, which is precisely the depth of the evil that resides.
Hence, why a system, a structure, a way of knowing how to bend language, art, culture to further enrich this pleasure, but in reducing myself to a whore, I have submitted completely to Satan, from which I find my purpose, mission, and source of vitality, spirit, and strength.