You Are Not Alone by David Plume

Writer: David Plume

Subject: You Are Not Alone

Link: LS666 Email / 31.08.2025 / dp1970@mail.com

Author’s Note: My thought with this piece is that people like me stumble onto your site and are, at first shocked and offended, but also feel Satan’s hand upon their cock or cunt. And for Christians and pastors, that’s a hard thing to process. I just want to help people understand they’re not alone, and how I have learned to navigate the darkness.

You Are Not Alone

It’s no secret that Christians and even pastors visit this site. I know because I am both. How we get here is as diverse as we are, but here we are. Christian and especially pastor, I’m speaking to you. I know the guilt and shame after we take in the posts, stories and, pictures here, especially when they inspire lustful thoughts and actions. (Post-nut clarity is a bitch.)

Some here will tell you how fake God is and how foolish our faith is. But our Christian faith is deeply rooted in us. That said, we feel something here like nothing we feel elsewhere. There’s a familiarity here, a dark but delicious sense of home here. Wrong but also right. But wait. Something can’t be right and wrong at the same time. Can it?

Human morality is complex and multidimensional, frequently allowing for the coexistence of contradictions. And psychologists explain that we often navigate those contradictions by compartmentalization or cognitive dissonance. As you probably know by now, some here will encourage us to curse and renounce Christ.

I can’t do that. But I can’t deny the pleasure I feel when I give in to the darkness and experience its orgasmic embrace. The freedom I feel of no limits sexual expression, even perverted desires, when I taste the forbidden fruit here is intoxicating and addictive.

It’s so wrong, but, oh god, my orgasms are deep and guttural. And when I masturbate and say words foreign to my normal vocabulary like “fuck” and “goddamn,” it’s like gasoline poured onto a campfire. I remember the first time I ever whispered Satan’s name as I stroked my cock—I swear he whispered back. And he took control of my cock in that moment, poured the most taboo images into my mind, and gave me the best orgasm of my life up to that point.

I gladly said, “Thank you,” but it came out as, “Hail Satan.” Stop if you must. Stop if you can. But I give myself permission to embrace the duality of desire and depravity. I still struggle with feelings that I’m doing a terrible wrong, and I guess I always will. But I’m learning to live with my contradictions. What I’m trying to say is you’re not alone.