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Story No. 60
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Jane looked Bartholomew squarely in the turgid bell-end. "What's that?" she inquired, wincing at the fumes.
Having inhaled the toxins, I began to understand how Chris programmed this website using 10 peacocks pecking the keyboard.
His underpants were infested ith chaffinches, and a viscious parrot defended his unwiped rear
for the general would surely be furious this time. Nay the hordes would come gushing out the trenches to
amaze everyone there. Someone laughed like Brian Blessed, which put the fornicators off their stride
and force them into giddy prolapse equalled in volume only by romantic dogs in unrequited love scenareos.
- Contributors:
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thegit -
Elephant Glitter - Alice Bible
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Harold Bishop - The French Lieutenant
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