Yeah right! He was helping me get his t-shirt off!"Shut-up, faggot!" I yanked his t-shirt out of his hands as it came over his head."I'm not a fag!" h... said, almost crying. "You are! Get off me! Ugh!"He started fighting again, hitting me with his little, pussy fists on my shoulders and trying to hurt me with his knees against my hips. I barely noticed, Brandon was such a wimp. He didn't have any muscles at all, just a nice, soft, smooth body and I grabbed his wrists as I sat up a little,. “I thought there appeared to be an abnormal amount of seniors there,” she said. There are a couple of more nice places to eat in North Wilkesboro. Maybe next time you can come to me.”“Who knows,” I replied.After dinner we drove back to Harold’s Shack. “I have spent more to renovate the shack than Grandpa Harold paid for the whole farm. I am pretty sure that fair market value for the shack is way less than the renovations cost. It was an act of love, and I still am not finished,” I explained.“So. More

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