Now, his mouth is directly beside my ear and I am immersed in the sound of his fervour. His large fat stomach is pressed hard against my thigh and his... hand rests on my buttock with his blunt middle finger directly against the opening of my lower body and its puckered, twitching muscle. His other hand presses upon my neck, forcing my head backwards until my face is angled up towards the ceiling, but this pressure, though compelling is not painful. Slowly he works his finger tip into my body and. "It's _your_ Creator, my friend. He has passed on."J. Pennington Pennyworth stared at the old man aghast. "How is that possible? And what did you mean _my_ Creator? Don't we have the same Creator?" It is difficult to explain. But I shall try, even though philosophy was never a strong point of mine." replied the old man. "You and I live in a world thought to be a fantasy by those, our Creators if you will, who, it is believed, fashioned it from their imaginations."Our lives are influenced by. More

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