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While he was speaking Connie noticed that Brad had placed his hand on her leg and was actually stroking her thigh. She reached down and took his wrist and lifted it off her leg and placed it on his lap. While doing so, she happened to brush against what was quite obviously a very hard prick. Ive got to go guys. Its been wonderful but its time for the party to end. Connie began to get up from the booth. Just as she was getting ready to leave, Drake spoke up. Mrs. Farrell, please think about it. I promise youll be safe and we all love having you around. Youll have three men waiting on your hand and foot. Just think about it, OK. Theres nothing to think about, Drake, its impossible. Connie did think to herself, now if only Drake were there, I might consider it. No, girl, stop thinking that. But when I look at him, I have all sorts of funny feelings inside me. The boys paid the check and they all escorted Connie back to her car which was parked in the mall garage. To fend off the. "Relax, Mark, and have a party. I'll whistle if I really need you."Mark smiled back at him. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered.Victoria watched this little scene with happiness and love. The two men she loved most in her life, both so handsome in their Mess Kit, were clearly very, very fond of each other but respected each other despite the huge gap in military seniority and experience.Mark led Victoria into the anteroom and looked for James. He soon spotted him with Jenny beside him and moved in their direction. It took a long time. All his old friends stopped him to have a chat and meet Victoria. She looked radiant and thoroughly enjoyed the attention. Everyone was entranced by her beauty, her quick wit and ready laugh.At last they reached James. "Ah," he said. "The bride and groom. Am I allowed to kiss her, Mark? After all I need to practice for the great day." I'm happy," smiled Mark. "I leave the final decision to her."Victoria nodded demurely but her eyes were sparkling. James put his.
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I was over there for about thirty minutes, munching Bran Flakes, peanut butter and jam toast and watching the sports news on the flat screen TV on the wall. ‘Go tell the staff and make ’em search the laundry room,’ Rob advised. It sounded hopeful, and I thought he should know, since he had been here longer than me. So I hot stepped it along the hallway, past the shelter managers’ offices and the washrooms, to the shelter staff office at the front of the hallway. I told them what happened. One of them, a portly but kind gent called Chris, escorted me promptly to the laundry room. There were two large wheelie type bins in there with all the dirty sheets and blankets they had collected that morning. They were waiting for someone to place them into two large, aging washing machines. I did not fancy the idea of digging my clean hands through all those soiled sheets that guys had rolled in, farted in, rubbed against themselves, blown their noses into, wiped themselves on or even (gulp!).

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