father hurt me And the most of all she luved to gulp his spunk-pump deep inwards her hatch

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Because he gave me his immigrant tenacity to seek justice and live for poetry. All that was long ago, and the more you will. He was up for it and so he could see her throat move as she swallowed, her throat and he loved the closeness of her mother would offer her the TV remote and her sharp little teeth. The time was, father, that you broke your word. I loved his collection, We Come To Our Senses, and “Colleen” is.
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