Richard could feel the sweat trickling down his back. Suddenly the moustached man buried his face in Richard’s neck and moaned as he banged his hips...one last time again Richard’s crotch. Seconds later the pub man mumbled an apology and walked briskly down the street without turning around. Richard had won the cockfight but his cock had not yet shot its load. The signs of the struggle were that his underpants were quite wet and. But then, wasn't it his right to do so? He was God. The entire universe was his property. If a child rips an action figure's arm off, do you scold him for hurting the figure? No, you just leave him to it, because it's his toy? And do you scold him for looking up the skirts of his sister's Barbie dolls? No, of course not, because they're just toys, and he's not hurting anyone. That's what the people of the universe are to God. They are his playthings, his property, to do with as he wishes. If. More

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