"Ohhh, it doesn't have to be, baby doll," June huskily suggested, stroking one of her own lusciously large watermelons of titmeat to turn him on visually as she still sat on the kitchen floor. "Hmmmmm, let's just call it musical fucks. Tee hee hee. Alright, boys, get those wee wees long and hard and ready again for old Junie! Annnnndddddd, ready, set, Henry, Ward, TRADE PLACES!"
THE END
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