The Satyr's Kiss: Queer Men, Sex Magic & Modern Witchcraft

by Storm Faerywolf, Christopher Penczak (Foreword)

This practical guide to Witchcraft both embraces and celebrates queer men through an impressive collection of spells, rituals, and exercises. The Satyr's Kiss empowers everyone who identifies as male to take his rightful place at the center of his own universe, honoring the unique qualities that set him apart from the mainstream. Emphasizing the importance of sexuality in Witchcraft, this book features a variety of methods for celebrating sex in a magical way. Join Storm Faerywolf on a queer-centered exploration of magical philosophy, history, rites of passage, and sex magic. He provides an abundance of spells that aid everything from communication and confidence to romance and sexual protection. This book also showcases rituals and exercises related to initiation, gender polarity, sex with spirits, celebrating pride, and more.

Genres: LGBT, Witchcraft, Nonfiction, Spirituality

360 pages, Paperback

Published May 8, 2022

About the author

With a name gifted by vision and dream, Storm Faerywolf is a professional warlock. He has studied and been initiated into various streams of practical witchcraft, most notably the Faery tradition, where he holds the Black Wand of a Master. He is the chancellor of Modern Witch University, co-founder of Black Rose Witchcraft, and a columnist for The Wild Hunt. He has given lectures, taught classes, and led rituals all across the US and Europe, in a career spanning over three decades.

A Master/Teacher in several lineages of Reiki, and a trained folk magician, he is also a published author having penned several books including “The Stars Within the Earth”, “Awakening the BlueLotus”, “Betwixt & Between”, “Forbidden Mysteries of Faery Witchcraft”, “The Satyr’s Kiss,” and "The Witch’s Name."

A proud queer poly man, he lives in the beautiful San Francisco Bay Area with his loving partners, where together they run an online magical boutique, Datura Trading Co., surrounded by dogs, cats, chickens, and a plethora of trees and plants. He believes in beauty, kindness, equality, true love, and magic.

Reviews

[Daniel McKenzie]

This book is best approached with a lot of expectation management.
If you expect yet another witchcraft 101 but from a queer perspective, you’ll be disappointed – get your basic knowledge and training elsewhere first.
And if you expect to discover the scandalous (if that’s even possible in 2022) yet tantalising secrets of gay sex magic in a way that’ll send hot flushes down your spine, you’ll be disappointed – get your head out of the gutter.
Also disappointment awaits anyone looking for a ready-made-just-add-water queer mythology or lore, or anyone who wants a spiritual feelgood book – gurl, this needs your work so get your lazy ass up. The Satyr’s Kiss is none of that.

The best approach is probably as if you’re reading a cookbook by a prestigious chef: You’ll get a lot of inspiration here even if you won’t cook every recipe between its covers – and you don’t have to in order to enjoy this book - and you’ll probably end up adapting a lot of this stuff to your own capabilities and needs.
But apparently that is exactly what Storm Faerywolf wants the reader to do anyway.

The author takes the reader on a roller coaster ride of queer history and philosophy and the chapter about the history and veneration of queer ancestors is especially noteworthy and, in my opinion, the most impactful material in the book. Yes, there also is a lot of sex magic in theory and practice and that’s probably the main selling point for a lot of readers, but the depth of the mythical and historical side of gay and queer spirituality is what makes this book so important. That’s the most empowering material and will probably stay with a lot of practitioners even after the excitement about the sex stuff wears off.

Speaking of sex stuff: yes, there is a lot of it in here and it is surprisingly (from the perspective of the usual material on that topic available) non-bashful, non-icky, and non-obscure.
Writing about sex-magic can be difficult but Faerywolf masters it with a clear voice and much care for the spiritual, mental and physical wellbeing of his readers.
The sex magic part is clearly more the beginner’s part of the book but that shouldn’t deter more experienced readers, because it is also a lesson in consent and magical sex-ed. And no one is ever too good for a beginner’s lesson. Granted, the actual exercises and rituals read a bit dry and clinical but then again, this isn’t supposed to be one-hand-literature anyway.
Readers coming from a deeper tantric background will probably criticise that there aren’t more energy and sensualising exercise available here, but this a sex magic for witches approach which is more aimed at energising spells and yourself and less towards unity with the Cosmos.
All the exercises read as if they are the author’s own practice and experiences that he tried at least ones and not just his brain children he simply coughed up to fill the pages. But that’s exactly what makes it so inspiring. If this otter-warlock can do it, so can I!

And that’s probably the gist of it. The Satyr’s Kiss is deeply inspiring and that is the best that anyone can say about any book on practical magic. It inspires gay witches to enhance their practice. You don’t have to but after reading you might certainly want to incorporate gay ancestors into your practice, find gay gods and myths that feed your dreams and visions, or turn a bored afternoon wank into an ecstatic celebration of divinity. It will incite your passion for the gay side of the craft in more than just one sense and that was exactly why this is such a useful book, wise and witty, and a benefit for beginners and seasoned practitioners alike.
Highly recommended but best approached with an open mind.

[Gianmichael Salvato]

Storm Faerywolf's "The Satyr's Kiss" is as much a book about practical, self-empowered expression of our magical lives as Queer persons as it is a stunningly poetic presentation of his personal path.

Without coming-off militant or overreaching to express the overall Queer experience, Faerywolf offers a gentle, modern and at times, delightfully playful look at magical practice from a Queer male perspective.

That does not, however, limit this book's value to those who identify strictly as men, nor does it limit itself to those who identify as neo-pagan. As an agender, secular and non-binary practitioner, I found Faerywolf's book inspiring. It gives us insight into his unique perspective, and as part of the LGBTQ+ community, that informs my practice and deepens bonds between me and my less-secular siblings on the path.

With a natural, almost conversational writing style, readers of his other wonderful books will be familiar with, this book is one of those books you can read in a night or two, because it's so engaging; but will want to revisit in shorter "bites" as well, to allow the rich, poetic, celebration of Queer Magic to wash over you, and reach those places we might not have realised need the healing of magic to touch.

[Thomas Pinneck]

The Satyr’s Kiss is a ground-breaking addition to the ever-expanding library of modern witchcraft, offering a space where queer men can explore magic, sex, and spirituality without the constraints of mainstream witchcraft’s often heteronormative framework. Storm Faerywolf’s approach is unapologetically queer and refreshingly celebratory, placing queer men and their unique experiences at the very center of a magical universe that is often dominated by more conventional narratives.

From the outset, Faerywolf’s voice is clear: The Satyr’s Kiss is not just about incorporating queerness into witchcraft—it is a manifesto for reclaiming the sacredness of the queer body, the queer spirit, and the queer sexual experience. Drawing on his decades of experience as a witch and teacher, Faerywolf builds a magical system that is firmly rooted in queer identity, exploring how sexuality, gender, and magic intersect in ways that are both profoundly spiritual and powerfully practical.

The book begins by laying a solid foundation in magical theory and philosophy, but Faerywolf’s approach is never overly academic or dry. Instead, his writing exudes a vibrant energy that reflects the joy and passion at the heart of his practice. His discussion of the role of sexuality in witchcraft goes beyond the simplistic notion of "sex magic" as a technique for manifesting desires. Instead, Faerywolf positions sex as an intrinsic aspect of magical power—an expression of the primal, creative force that animates both the body and the cosmos. For Faerywolf, sex is not merely an act—it is an invocation, a ritual, and a celebration of one’s own divine nature.

What sets The Satyr’s Kiss apart is its focus on rites of passage and rituals that honor the distinct experiences of queer men. Faerywolf guides the reader through a series of initiatory experiences, from claiming one’s own power and identity to navigating the often-fraught waters of love and desire in a queer context. His rites for self-dedication, coming out, and gender polarity are written with a keen awareness of the challenges that many queer men face in traditional magical spaces, making these rituals both inclusive and deeply resonant.

The book’s treatment of sex magic is sophisticated and nuanced, addressing both the spiritual and ethical dimensions of the practice. Faerywolf’s spells and rituals are crafted to empower queer men to use their sexual energy in transformative ways, whether through solo workings, partner rituals, or group rites. His exercises for cultivating erotic energy, building confidence, and enhancing communication are practical and accessible, providing tools that can be used by beginners and advanced practitioners alike. There’s a strong emphasis on consent, personal boundaries, and the sacredness of the body, making this one of the few books that treats sex magic with the respect and care it deserves.

Faerywolf’s discussion of sex with spirits and the incorporation of spirit allies into sexual rites may be challenging for some, but it is presented with a deep sense of reverence and clear boundaries. He does not shy away from the darker, more complex aspects of erotic magic, yet he approaches these topics with a sense of integrity that ensures the reader is well-prepared to engage with them safely. The section on crafting pacts and partnerships with spirit lovers is particularly intriguing, offering a rarely explored dimension of magical sexuality that has roots in folklore and traditional witchcraft.

The spells included in The Satyr’s Kiss are practical and varied, covering everything from confidence-building and enhancing attraction to protection and breaking through societal stigmas. Faerywolf’s voice is empowering, encouraging queer men to embrace their unique strengths and experiences as sources of magical power. This emphasis on self-acceptance and self-celebration is woven throughout the book, making it not just a manual for magical practice but a guide to personal transformation and liberation.

The final sections of the book focus on creating queer-centered magical communities and celebrating pride as a sacred act. Faerywolf’s rituals for honoring queer ancestors, invoking the spirits of pride, and creating group rituals that celebrate queer identity are powerful and moving. His encouragement to view queer magic as a form of resistance against oppression is both timely and inspiring, positioning The Satyr’s Kiss as a book that is as much about social justice as it is about spellcraft.

With a foreword by Christopher Penczak, The Satyr’s Kiss situates itself firmly within the broader tradition of modern witchcraft while carving out a space that is uniquely queer. Penczak’s endorsement adds a layer of legitimacy and connection to the wider occult community, yet Faerywolf’s work stands entirely on its own merits. This is a book that does not seek approval or validation from mainstream magical traditions—it exists to uplift, empower, and transform the lives of queer men who practice witchcraft.

The Satyr’s Kiss is a vital and revolutionary text for any queer witch looking to deepen their practice and embrace their full magical potential. Storm Faerywolf has crafted a guide that is not only practical but profoundly spiritual, offering a path where sexuality and spirituality are not at odds but are celebrated as intertwined expressions of the divine. For queer men who have felt marginalized or excluded from traditional witchcraft, this book offers a beacon of acceptance, strength, and magical power.

[Christian Willem]

A beautiful offering, full of Storm’s trademark wit, wisdom and love. A breath of fresh air, a love letter to the queer craft, and a homecoming for those who have been unseen in spaces that did not recognise their magic. Full of inspiring lore and praxis, this wonderful book provides a solid and grounding foundation for the queer warlock/witch, as well as the knowledge and secrets to build a practice that is ever growing upward into new mysteries. Suitable for beginners and more advanced practitioners.

[Lobolance]

A delight for witchy queer men

I love the open warmth in Storm's writing. Nary a True Way is prescribed, but alternatives in thought and action are provided. What a delightful guide to opening one's mind to happily and healthily incorporating queer sexuality into magick. So refreshing. This is part of making it better for the next generation as well as ourselves.

[David Sparks]

Storm Faerywolf has given us a road map and guidebook for grounding the gay men's spiritual journey in an active practice that is at once political, spiritual, and profound. It is a joy to read! Faerywolf takes the reader on his personal journey making it clear why the queer myths, symbols, and spiritual practices, known since antiquity and across cultures can be significant for today's gay man. We wholeheartedly recommend "The Satyr's Kiss." -- Randy P. Conner and David Hatfield Sparks, authors of the Encyclopedia of Queer Myth, Symbol, and Spirit (Cassell, 1997) and other books of LGBTQ+ spirituality, folklore, and mythology.

[Annarella]

It's an interesting read that made me reflect and I liked the style of writing and the ideas.
Recommended.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine

[Amanda Graham]

I bought The Satyr's Kiss to give to my gay nephew, but because I'm already a big fan of Storm Faerywolf's work, there was absolutely no chance I was handing it over without reading it first. By the time I finished, I wasn't just excited to give it to him because it was a great book. I was thinking about what it might mean for a young gay man interested in Witchcraft to encounter a book that places him at the center of the magical conversation rather than somewhere along its margins.

I've watched modern Witchcraft become dramatically more inclusive over the years, but a surprising amount of its foundational language still assumes heterosexuality and binary gender. Even traditions that are completely welcoming to queer people can retain inherited ideas about masculine and feminine polarity, God and Goddess, male and female energies, and heterosexual sexuality as the symbolic engine of creation. A queer practitioner can certainly reinterpret all of that, and generations of queer witches have done exactly that, but there's something different about encountering magical material that doesn't require translation in the first place.

That's what Storm offers here. The Satyr's Kiss isn't conventional Witchcraft with the pronouns switched around or a chapter on LGBTQ+ practitioners added at the end. Queerness informs the way Storm approaches magical identity, sexuality, masculinity, history, spirits, ancestors, rites of passage, relationships, and power throughout the book.

The sexuality is important, and Storm doesn't sanitize it to make it more comfortable for a mainstream audience. There is actual sex magic here, along with discussions of desire, erotic energy, sexual protection, spirit relationships, and the sacred possibilities of queer sexuality. But reducing this to “the gay sex magic book” would miss much of what makes it worthwhile, because some of its most meaningful material concerns queer history, queer ancestors, Pride, identity, initiation, confidence, and finding spiritual significance in experiences that traditional religious structures have often taught queer people to reject.

I particularly loved the attention given to queer ancestors. There is something powerful about realizing that being queer doesn't separate someone from the sacred or from history, but instead connects them to generations of people who loved, desired, struggled, created, survived, resisted, and found ways to make meaning from their lives. For a magical practitioner, remembering those people can become more than historical awareness; it can become ancestry in a broader spiritual sense.

Storm also refuses the idea that masculinity itself belongs to heterosexuality or to the rigid gender roles that queer people have so often been expected to either imitate or reject. There is room here for queer masculinity to become something sacred on its own terms, without requiring a man to define himself through opposition to femininity or conformity to somebody else's expectations of manhood. I found myself thinking about that quite a bit while reading because it's exactly the kind of possibility I would want a young gay man to encounter.

That's ultimately why I'm giving this book to my nephew. I don't expect him to adopt everything in it, perform every ritual, or agree with every piece of Storm's magical worldview, and I wouldn't want him to. One of the things I've always appreciated about Storm's writing is that he gives readers material to engage with, experiment with, challenge, and ultimately make their own.

What I want my nephew to receive from The Satyr's Kiss is something much simpler and much bigger: the knowledge that there is nothing about being gay that places him outside the sacred. His sexuality doesn't have to be compartmentalized away from spirituality, his relationships don't need to be translated into heterosexual symbolism to become magically meaningful, and he belongs to a history that contains ancestors, mysteries, beauty, pleasure, resistance, and power.

As someone who already loved Storm's work, I expected this to be good. What I didn't expect was how differently I would experience the book knowing that when I finished reading it, I was going to place it in the hands of someone I love. It made me grateful that books like this exist now, and even more grateful that my nephew gets to encounter one while he's still young enough for its central message to really matter: there is a place for you here, and you don't have to become anyone other than yourself to claim it.

[Michelle Avery]

I bought The Satyr’s Kiss for my gay brother, and after looking through it myself before giving it to him, I immediately understood why a book like this needed to exist. So many witchcraft books claim to be universal while quietly assuming heterosexuality, traditional gender roles, or a Goddess-and-God polarity that doesn't necessarily reflect the lives of the people reading them. Storm Faerywolf doesn't ask queer men to translate someone else's witchcraft into something that fits them. He puts their experiences at the center from the beginning.

That was probably what impressed me most. This isn't simply a general witchcraft book with a few sections added for gay men. Queer male identity, sexuality, relationships, masculinity, spirituality, and magic inform the entire framework. There is something genuinely powerful about giving someone a magical book in which they don't have to mentally rewrite half the material before they can see themselves in it.

I also appreciated the sex-positive approach. Sexuality isn't treated as something spiritually embarrassing that needs to be sanitized before it can enter sacred space. Faerywolf explores sexual energy as one possible expression of magical power and approaches desire, pleasure, intimacy, and attraction as parts of a person's spiritual life rather than things existing outside it. At the same time, the book goes well beyond sex magic. There is material on confidence, communication, protection, romance, initiation, Pride, spirits, rites of passage, and magical identity.

The discussion of masculinity was especially interesting to me as a woman reading a book written primarily for queer men. We hear constantly about toxic expressions of masculinity, and rightly so, but there is much less discussion about what healthy, sacred, queer, magical masculinity might actually look like. Faerywolf creates room for masculinity that doesn't depend upon heterosexuality or rigid ideas about what a man is supposed to be.

I think that's part of why I wanted to give this to my brother. There's a difference between telling someone, “Of course witchcraft is for you too,” and handing them a book that actually demonstrates it. Representation can sound like an abstract concern until you encounter something created specifically with your experiences in mind.

There is also a playful, sensual energy running through the book that keeps it from becoming overly academic about queerness. The satyr is a perfect central image for that reason: wildness, pleasure, desire, nature, freedom, and a refusal to apologize for inhabiting the body. Faerywolf takes those themes seriously without making them solemn.

Christopher Penczak's foreword is a great fit as well. I've always appreciated his inclusive approach to modern witchcraft, and his presence helps situate The Satyr's Kiss within a broader movement of contemporary witches who have spent decades opening magical traditions beyond the restrictive gender and sexuality models found in some older material.

Obviously, I'm not the primary audience for this book. I'm a woman who bought it for my gay brother. But sometimes reading something written for someone else makes you realize how rarely that person has been centered in the books surrounding them.

The Satyr's Kiss doesn't merely tell queer men that they're welcome in witchcraft. Storm Faerywolf gives them a witchcraft that already knows they're there. And as a sister, that made me very happy to put this book in my brother's hands.

[Julian Mercury]

There is an experience particular to reading occult books as a gay man of my generation. You become very good at translation. The God and Goddess become principles rather than heterosexual lovers. The Great Rite requires some theological renovation. References to “the natural attraction between male and female energies” get quietly rewritten in the margins. You learn to take what is useful, discard what is not, and occasionally wonder whether anyone involved in creating the cosmos remembered that you existed. The Satyr’s Kiss begins from the opposite assumption. Queer men are not visitors being graciously accommodated within someone else’s magical universe. We are already standing at its center.

That change of perspective allows Faerywolf to do much more than put rainbow decorations on familiar witchcraft. He gets into sexuality as magical power, queer rites of passage, gender polarity, initiation, erotic relationships with spirits, magical confidence, communication, romance, sexual protection, and the ritual celebration of Pride. I was particularly glad to see him interrogate polarity rather than simply abolish it. Queerness does not require pretending difference has no magical charge. It gives us permission to ask whether the old binary explanation was ever large enough to account for what people were actually experiencing. A gay man can know perfectly well that erotic polarity exists without believing the universe divided all energy into boys on one side of the dance floor and girls on the other.

There are passages here that made me unexpectedly aware of how much spiritual imagination I spent on translation when I was younger. Sex between men could certainly be magical, but one generally had to construct the theology oneself. Desire could be sacred, provided you were willing to pry it loose from symbolism built around reproduction. Even the figure of the witch was wonderfully transgressive until some author suddenly began explaining that women were naturally intuitive and receptive while men were active and projective, at which point apparently centuries of homosexual evidence had to wait outside. Faerywolf does not ask queer men to justify our presence inside Witchcraft. He asks what Witchcraft looks like when our bodies, desires, histories, pleasures, wounds, and ways of loving are permitted to generate magical meaning of their own.

That is what makes this more important to me than another book of sex spells. There is a difference between including queer people in Witchcraft and allowing queer experience to teach Witchcraft something. Faerywolf is interested in the latter. Some of his conclusions will undoubtedly irritate readers, and a few irritated me, which I suspect he would consider preferable to polite agreement. But I would have loved to have encountered a book like this when I was twenty-five. Not because I needed a witchcraft book to tell me being gay was acceptable. I needed one sufficiently confident in that fact to move on to the much more interesting question of what magical possibilities might follow from it.

[Alex M]

There’s something immediately appealing about a witchcraft book that puts queer men at the center of its magical world. The Satyr’s Kiss takes our desires seriously and gives them room within spiritual practice. Storm Faerywolf approaches the subject with an openness I appreciate. Being able to consider sexuality without first sitting through a debate about whether it belongs in sacred space is a considerable relief.

The material on gender polarity particularly interests me. Magical systems can carry assumptions about gender that deserve examination, especially when those assumptions shape the roles people are expected to inhabit. I want room to think about how a ritual relates to the people actually performing it. This is a subject where queer experience has something valuable to contribute, and I’m glad Faerywolf gives it sustained attention.

The practical scope includes work around communication and confidence, which makes sense alongside the more explicitly sexual material. Desire involves a person with insecurities and a life beyond the ritual. I appreciate having those ordinary concerns included in the magical discussion. Sometimes being able to express what you want clearly is already a fairly ambitious undertaking, even before anyone starts invoking anything.

The rites of passage and Pride celebrations are especially appealing to me. They invite consideration of which moments in a queer life deserve ritual recognition and what it might mean to mark them deliberately. That has emotional weight. There’s value in developing ceremonies that speak to experiences we recognize, with symbols we can enter into personally.

Having explored Faerywolf’s other books, I find this focus on queer magical life a compelling part of his work. The frankness about sexuality suits the subject, and the range offers plenty to explore at an individual pace. I’d recommend it to queer men interested in bringing more of themselves into their witchcraft. A spiritual practice should have room for the person who turns up, including the parts of him that took the longest to welcome.

[Kevin Worcester]

really loved this one. there are plenty of books that make witchcraft more inclusive by adding queer people into an existing framework, but storm faerywolf goes further and asks what witchcraft can actually look like when queer experience is placed at the center of it. there’s a surprising amount here beyond sex magic too, including queer history and symbolism, mythology, the rainbow dead, rites of passage, polarity beyond gender, queer approaches to the sabbats, and ways of reworking familiar magical practices through a specifically queer lens.

the sex magic material is definitely a major part of the book, though, and i appreciated how unapologetically it treats queer sexuality and pleasure as spiritually and magically powerful. there are exercises involving sexual empowerment, sigils, spirit contact, desire, initiation, and working with sexual energy, alongside practical spells for things like confidence, relationships, communication, and sexual protection. what really worked for me is that the book doesn’t feel like queer witchcraft with the edges sanded off to make everyone comfortable. it’s personal, occasionally provocative, very gay, and completely comfortable being all of those things. i wish books like this had been around when i was younger, because seeing queer identity treated as a source of magical power rather than something that needs to be accommodated within witchcraft can be incredibly empowering. definitely one of the stronger books i’ve read on queer witchcraft.

[Bobbie Sobel]

I just finished @StormFaerywolf’s The Satyr’s Kiss.

Wonderfully written and a must for Pride Season. This book is rich in Queer history. Storm helps queer your craft. Though it’s target is queer men, I was able to find some of the exercises to be helpful for any gender.

I highly recommend for so many queer identifying people. Storm tackles things like gender and venerating those queer people who came before us. This book also has some “spicy” exercises sure to engage you more intimately in your spiritual journey. Storm makes the Queer Craft accessible, inclusive as well as exciting.

Enjoy exploring the queer side of witch craft and spirituality. We celebrate the past, present and future of what it means to be queer.

[Alan D.D.]

I found it interesting and with good information. I was particularly interested in the meditations. However, it didn't have sources regarding some explanations or historical events, I found a few irregularities that confused me. I'm sure it will be useful for many practitioners, but it wasn't for me.

[Crow Greiley]

I can't recommend this more highly for the Queer practitioner! It's aimed at gay/bi trans and cis men, but I think it's an invaluable resource for Queer people of every stripe of the rainbow. Tons in there for everyone. Lots in there about Queer history and mythology and how to honor your Queerness and Queer ancestors.

[Rob MacWolf]

It's refreshing to see an approach to neopaganism that doesn't assume that being sex-positive is an excuse to be relentlessly heteronormative.