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Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. Basically, I was raised in daycare. He spoke in quick nervous sentences. In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. Escape was now impossible.
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This video was uploaded to ssibasmatirice.com on 10-06-2024 06:39:19
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