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The other women repeated his name, elongating the end. ‘Guy, what?’ It was the voice of another woman, but Guy didn’t look back. He started to a...swer when he heard a third voice, its tone commanding. ‘Leave him be. You start in and he never get any work done.’ Guy glanced over his shoulder. The woman was a spitting image of the Lord, Charlotte. Must be the House matron. The women immediately quieted and returned to their eating. Guy stepped out onto the font steps and looked out over the town.. She’d spent the morning combing the internet for other reports of strange sightings, either of the crash or of the man, and had come up empty. She decided to grab another k-cup for her individual-serving coffee maker but found that her last cup had been the final one in the house. Knowing she’d never be able to think without another cup, she heaved a sigh, slammed her already-socked feet into a pair of neon pink sneakers and tossed on a fleece. It was almost mid-February and the fickle Georgia. Her voice startled him & he dropped his suspenders, the overalls dropped to the floor, & we now realized Paul preferred commando to underwear. Standing exposed to his aunt, made him stiffen to full arousal. And full arousal was an impressive sight. 11, maybe 12 inches of solid cock, not as thick as Will but with a large mushroomed tip was bobbing with excitement as he froze, to embarrassed to cover himself, he just stood staring at his aunt. She smiled, took his hand & lead him into the shower.. Her arms are around my shoulders. The wind whips our hair into a mass of knots. It is cool enough our jackets feel good but not so cold as to give us an ice cream headache. We lean into the curve. The bike starts to drift just a bit. I crack the throttle to power us through the curve and to correct the drift. We race the full, bright moon. The moon is winning, although we are running a close second. The vibration from the engine makes its way through the soles of our boots, seeps into our blood.
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