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"How's your erection?"Jake recovered quickly. "Easy come, easy go," he said, shrugging.Pete and Caroline laughed. Laine was blushing fiercely but chuckled aswell."Good answer," Linda said, downing the rest of her drink. She stood."Come on," she said to Laine."What? But I don't..." Look, Laine," Linda said reasonably. "We're the girls now. Gottapreserve the mystery."Caroline studiously ignored the exchange, but a few moments later shesaid, "Oh, hell," and went after them. Pete and Jake looked at eachother.Jake smiled. "Was it something I said?" Well, I guess it's better than sitting out there blushing," Laineadmitted.Linda was brushing her teeth maniacally. She spat and said, "Damnstraight. Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?" Uh, Linda, this was your idea." Yeah, but you're the one who has something on her mind." OK, yeah." Laine sighed, started to say something, paused. "You'regoing to pick up that guy in the green jacket, aren't you?" Yes ma'am, I am," Linda. Oh God! Hurts ... oh, it hurts!" Faith moaned pitifully. She writhed in agony, but though her hands were free she made no effort to escape. Instead she bore the sharp pain with gasps and groans as Boyd twisted her tender flesh this way and that. She sucked in her breath harshly as he pulled out her nipples and tried to tear them from her body. To her utter amazement, Faith found herself reaching out for Boyd's dick, her fingers clawing frenziedly at his fly in an effort to get it open. The intense pain had changed somehow. It still hurt terribly, but there was something else now added to it. It hurt good!!!! It hurt deliciously good!!! She jerked open Boyd's fly and grasped his hard cock, pulled it from his pants and eagerly worked her hand up and down its pulsating shaft."You cock-hungry bitch!" Boyd hissed, staring down at her with an obvious mixture of hatred and lust showing in his lace. "Boyd! Oh God, honey ... fuck me!!”"What's the matter? Didn't Leatherman give you enough cock.
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He made a big deal of having been to a state school (in Surrey), but had once told me (under the influence of drugs) that his father was a chartered surveyor and member of the local Rotary Club. It could be argued that Weasel was the perfect bourgeois – he was allergic to all the things that Terry and his mates in the flats liked – Arsenal, fighting, betting shops and beer (though he did share their love of birds, porn and fags). They took the piss out of his long hair and the fact he refused to eat smoky bacon crisps in the pub; Tel and Kev and Dave and Bill saw vegetarianism as evidence of rampant homosexuality. They instinctively disliked Weasel, but they liked his home-grown weed and the seemingly unending supply of quality birds that flocked to his door. He was a funny little fella – what was his secret?Terry, for example, would give his right arm to get a piece of skirt like the one that was sitting in Weasel's gaffe this afternoon."Bleedin ell, Kev," he told his mate in the.

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