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When I ask people to join me on road trips it’s almost always a test of character. Dad and I hunted outside his friend Leslie’s blueberry farm. W... spent the morning camouflaged beneath cypress branches utterly silent. Around noon he stood, stretched, and un-cocked his twelve-gauge. ‘You hungry?’ ‘No, sir.’ ‘You’re hungry.’ ‘No, sir. Thank you.’ ‘Good.’ And he sat back down. Of all the qualities my father possessed, the one that left the deepest impression was concision. You must be succinct. ‘Let’s be honest,’ said Ethan, ‘…she wouldn’t be able to fit her old, saggy fat arse in them these days.’ This comment only made Boston kiss Ethan harder, as he grabbed Ethan’s arse. With his wife and the old biddies chattering away downstairs, Boston liberally piped his hot spunk over his wife’s knickers, through Ethan’s shiny tights. Back in the present, Ethan gazed at Boston’s hard cock stretching his skin tight leotard. He ran his hands over Boston’s broad shoulders, and rested them around. More

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