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“Clean bill of health, Clint. After the incident in the club, I wanted nothing standing in the way of your cum painting my walls white.” I licked a stripe from his chin to upper lip, and Clint’s hand holding the supplies faltered, the items toppling to the bed. “My filthy mouth is the least of your concerns. My ass is gonna take you down whole. And I want your meat raw when it happens.”
Bad Wrong Things
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