" Silence. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the splash, struck out in that direction, and caught it before it sank. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt. However, the scheme answered well enough, for Darrell has got off with his own brat.
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