Chapter 72

• It’s not a cult. I don’t know why I even need to clarify this. I did come back from the dead, yes, but that’s not that uncommon nowadays with shock paddles and CPR. I’m just a guy who made a more-than-full recovery after a car accident.
• Like puppies hearing the jingling of their master’s keys, the entrance to my apartment was crowded with excited girls on their knees. I’m their whole world. They cook and clean. They wax their pussies and put on subtle makeup to make their eyes and lips pop just for me. They buy obscenely sexy outfits for me to enjoy for a few minutes before they find themselves on the floor. Yet I don’t remember all of their names.
• My pants tightened watching my girls playfully elbow each other for the first taste of dick, their hungry mouths open like a brood of baby birds, so I pulled them down to offer my adoring fans what they had been missing for only a few hours. They might only care about sex but I like to go out with friends once in a while. The young brunette... Amelie? Emily? The one wearing a tight dress with so little chest coverage that her bouncing breasts were held by suspenders over her nipples managed to hungrily throat my cock, her lips pushing away some other girls’ tongues on my shaft. It was not a problem; they just migrated to my balls. Everyone was happy to have my lips to kiss, or my asshole to tongue, or to simply rub their breasts against my skin. It’s not a cult because I never ask them to do any of these nasty things.