[Continued from "Jade's Vacation (Part 3)."]

“We were fucking and I guess he wasn’t done … I might need to go take care of that now,” she continued as she noticed how the whole bed was visible from where Teal was standing.

“Call him out again, Jade, ” Teal teased.

“Jason, come here for a moment,” Jade asked as she saw him peeking around the doorway at the two women.

“It’s ok, Jason, we know your cock is hard and just want to see it up close,” Teal tormented with a wicked grin on her full, kissable lips.

Jason shivered and then let the towel fall to the floor. He slipped his fingers around the thick shaft of his cock and walked toward the two women as they both swallowed the plum of his prick with their eyes.

Jade and Jason went back inside the suite and began an instant replay of their earlier events. Teal was standing by the railing and could see Jade begin sucking Jason’s huge, hard cock again. She reached between her tan thighs and began rubbing the button of her lady place as she watched Jade’s mouth working Jason’s cock.

Jade watched in the mirror as Teal shivered outside the glass door. Watching a woman finger fuck herself while that woman watched her suck her husband’s cock was almost more than she should stand. She felt the honey dripping from her cunt as she sucked … as she watched Teal’s tan tits jiggle up and down from the motion of her arm and fingers.

Jason reached behind Jade and lifted her shapely fuckable ass up over his hungry mouth. The instant his tongue entered her smooth shaved slot, she gushed some of her swelling orgasm. The nectar drizzled down over his chin and onto his tan chest.

“Oh fuck,” Teal moaned as she watched the liquid soak onto his skin. “I want to suck that cunt so fucking bad,” she moaned out loud as she fingered deeper into her wetness. She moaned and shivered and pressed her nude tits against the glass of the suite. She panted with lust as she watched the round fuckable curve of Jade’s ass swaying over Jason’s mouth.

Jason could feel Jade’s intensity, her need. He could see Teal against the glass and wanted to service both of the women … but more than anything he wanted to see his hot wife with another woman.

As Jason moved a bit to the side where Teal could see his face, he motioned to her and pointed at the smooth nudity of Jade’s seeping slot. Teal didn’t need more of an offer. She slipped through the open doorway and knelt behind Jade’s smooth, round ass. Jason put his fingers into Jade’s cunt and offered them to Teal. She sucked them like four hard cocks and panted for more. Jason reached inside Jade again and gathered more of her honey and offered it again. This time Teal smeared the slick wetness on her jutting nipples and perked forward for Jason to suck the honey off of them.

Teal moaned softly as Jason sucked her tits, mouthing them gently but hungrily. Jade turned slightly and watched out of the corner of her eye as she kept sucking Jason’s throbbing prick. Jade was so turned on watching Jason suck the woman, watching him reach between her own trembling legs, watching him pull out his wet fingers and then reach down to her sucking lips and offer the sloshing wetness.

“Oh fuck me, Jason,” Jade moaned as she glutted on his fingers and slurped her pussy’s sauce from each of them. She was ready. Teal was ready. Jason was more than ready.

Jason moved over on the bed and Teal splayed her sexy thighs wide under the eyes of Jade. She began finger fucking herself again and reached for Jade to straddle her mouth. Jade didn’t wait any longer and swooped her naked bare cunt down over Teal’s mouth and slowly felt Teal open her lips and begin her tempting tongue lashing.

[To be continued.]

Is he getting to like me like I like him or do I just like the idea of him?  But actually if I just liked the idea I would’ve gone for Dave Luke – he’s definitely got good genes and would be more demonstrative with his feelings and towards a relationship.  But the standoffishness is sexy, masculine, manly to me but of course he’d be caring with the kids if not by words then by actions.  And we’d of course be loving.  Why do I think like this?  Guys don’t do this not to this extreme maybe not in groups but they could by themselves like I am.  But Laura and I were also doing it together.  Henry must like me a lot – he talks to me no me now it seems at least twice a day he calls me when he has nothing else to do bad – he’ll think I’m always home good – he’ll become dependent on me or maybe he really does want to talk to me that much like junior high relationships of getting to know each other over the phone (oh she’s talking to Henry again – no still) because they can’t get together that often outside of school ’cause Mom and Dad won’t drive them and how can you make out with parents around.  But this is sweet – he calls me all the time.  But I want to know him know his feelings what he thinks.  I want to know him and know he really cares about me when we kiss or anything else.  I totally want to make out with him – just kiss and roll around with no pressure of sex but if happens then that’s nice.  And I realized that I’ve never even had to worry about contraception but I’ve had the sex.  Well, maybe now I’m mature enough.  And I just would love to get to know someone so well that I know hat they want in bed and to start out awkward and become so graceful with time but will thinking about it too much make it not happen?  Or when it doesn’t will I just be that much more depressed.  But I can see it so clearly does he ever think like that?  No well the only reason I haven’t said anything is because I don’t know how he feels.  Are his feelings still growing for me?  Are mine for him?  Or am I at the point now where I just have to get what I set out for – sex.  But I still don’t really know him but I want to so far everything is physical – his face, his cute little legs, his guitar playing.  It’s all physical not emotional.  Like if he told me why he liked me was because I’m cute (Does he think that?) and I smoke pot.  Fuck why does he like me?  Does he really?  Why do I like him?  Sometimes I have to say he’s brilliant – when he asked me why I liked him I told him ’cause he’s cute and sweet.  He found out that it’s only physical so he tested me by not getting so to see if I would get bored or lose interest.  No, I only do that when they do like me.  But why do I like him – nothing physical … I don’t know how he thinks so I don’t know him except for the physical – the strong, warm body next to mine, the sweet fat cheeks, his deep brown eyes squinty from being stoned, the full lips on that little mouth, the way that mouth could make me feel, and those sweet little hands touching me my waist and his strong arms holding me will we ever be more than we are now I think we’re working on it now but I don’t know how he’s thinking – how he feels.  Will I ever know?  I would like to know what he thinks of me.  Or how he thinks of me.  Obviously, we’re going towards sex ’cause we’ve kissed and he’s still speaking to me – and I don’t just mean sex I mean a relationship where there is sex and feelings involved.  But do the kisses mean we’ll be progressing further?  I’m letting him lead this journey cause I’ll go wherever he wants me to.  Yep, I’m pretty sad.  Does he ever want to kiss me?  He does it but does he want to?  I have been wanting to ask but I’m too embarrassed and I don’t want to hear the wrong answer.  I think about him all the time – doesn’t that mean I like him or he’s just filling a void.  But he could’ve been any other guy – what about Chris – either one – I could’ve pursued both if I wanted to.  It could’ve been Dan Higgins.  It could’ve been anyone but they weren’t Henry he’s what I needed wanted, had space for.  But sometimes it seems like I’m forcing this puzzle together but only because I don’t think the piece fits.  Apparently he thinks it can work.  It’s just cause I’ve never done this before – it seems too normal and average.  I think I’ll fit in and all – sort of – not.  When the damn time comes – jump ahead about 10 years (at this rate).

1:15 AM

I was telling Henry how tired I am of thinking ’cause it hurt and I was saying how everyone’s basically the same but then for some reason I think guys are totally different.  Or actually I don’t remember exactly what it was and Henry said he wishes he had thoughts like that – something about all the answers not being right there so I get frustrated and that’s why I don’t like thinking anymore.  But the way he said it.  It was like he was revering me – like “wow how neat” and “you are so neat” (I, of course, prefer the latter.)  It’s funny ’cause we’re slowly but surely getting to know each other.  I’ve never done this with anyone else.  Not this more than friends type of thing.  Erica (Sorry, she’s my only reference.) and I went so fast we were friends, sort of, we had sex, a lot, we built a relationship, however shaky and fucked up but so far this thing with Henry is slow and nice.  We’re getting to know each other before we even get really physical but we had to kiss for it to get to this level that we’re at now but the “revering” type talking is what started Erica on the road towards love not that that’s where he’s going shit if I only knew it would make everything so simple.  But I like his mystery.  But do I really like him or did I just latch onto him because I wanted someone to latch onto – to talk about.  But I think dream about him too it of course started off as a looks thing but beautiful people hang around beautiful people looks are something our children are going ooops would be so cute but I’m not sure what I would name boy #1 cause I think it would have to be a boy but that’s me giving up part of me I would like a girl or boy but a boy so he could deal better with our first.  Why but I don’t know we can’t see the future and I’m glad.  That’s something no one can ever do – is see the future.  Life is like an adventure who knows what’s gonna come next.  I was wondering if I should ask Henry who’s going with us to the mountains (he’s never been camping – isn’t that sweet?) but I’m afraid cause if he was planning on it being just the two of us and I asked like there were gonna be people with us he would take it to mean I didn’t think we were gonna be alone and to make me feel more comfortable but of course I want to be alone with him so we can be alone the type of couple that is one way out in front of everyone and another alone together and I don’t just mean sex either I mean talking feelings.  Like the couples you see that’ve been together since high school but they really know each other.  Wow I guess every relationship is like that in one way or another.

We all know that summer is concert season.  I saw this advertisement on BART indicating some upcoming concerts in the Bay Area.  (Please forgive the photo’s quality, as the train was moving when I took it.)  Here are six musical events I will not be attending this or any other summer.

I do like some Iron Maiden music.  My step-sister and I had the cassette of Seventh Son of a Seventh Son and listened to the shit out of it.  Now, thanks to the Viking, I have access to all of their albums.  That’s enough.  A concert with Iron Maiden fans does not sound fun.

The Warped Tour.  I’m too old and pale to take in an all-day music festival.  I’m also not cool enough.  Or have enough tattoos.  I’m fine with that.

The Mayhem Festival.  I’ve seen Rob Zombie back in the day when he was playing clubs, probably the early 1990s.  I’m over him, and I have no interest in any of the other bands.  Also, too old, not cool enough, not enough tattoos.  Rockstar and Jägermeister, two drinks I have NO interest in drinking, are sponsors.

I think Toby Keith is a country musician.  No thank you.  Not even interested enough to look him up.  Not going.

I would stab myself in both ears with ice picks before I’d go to a Rush concert so I wouldn’t have to actually hear that horrible voice.  If I’m feeling the need to torture myself I can listen to recorded Rush – the Viking has ‘em.

Don’t know who or what Paramore is.  I don’t know if not knowing makes me cool or dorky.  I don’t care.

I wasn’t into Slayer or Megadeth back in the 80s.  Not into them now.  The crowd would be sad rockers who are pissed that they had kids with their high school sweethearts.  No thank you.

Finally, Jimmy Buffett.  I have no interest in going to Margaritaville or eating a cheeseburger in paradise.  Or hanging out with people my parents’ peers.

I swear.  True story.

[Continued from "Chicago:  June 20, 2010."]

It was my last day in Chicago.  The day was bittersweet because the Viking and I would have to part ways.  He was coming home in three days anyway, but we would miss each other nonetheless.  We’re goofy like that.  He’ll get tired of me soon enough.

I decided on the trip that I don’t like king-size beds.  They are way too big for me.  If I’m sleeping in the same bed as someone chances are it’s because I want to share a bed.  A king bed makes it feel like I’m in the bed alone, which is fine, but only when I’m in bed alone.  When I share a bed with someone I want to be able to reach out and actually find a body.  (Preferably a live one.)  I’m not much of a cuddler, but I still want to be able to feel a body if I’m choosing to share a bed.

I packed my suitcase.  We had strewn our clothes about the room, and the toys had been put to use.  It was nice that the Viking was staying in the room so if I forgot anything he could bring it home.  I didn’t forget anything in my huge suitcase.  I was required to overpack because of the size of my suitcase.  The Ex and I had bought a set of luggage before we went to Thailand the first time.  When the Ex moved out he took the smaller pieces and left me the largest piece.  Now, unless it’s just a quick jaunt, the only suitcase I have has to be filled.  For this trip, the rope and toys took up the space, but the bag has to be checked because of the size.

These days the stupid-ass airlines charging for checking even one bag is just bullshit.  When I arrived in our hotel room and opened my suitcase, I noticed the contents had been rearranged; the flogger was on top whereas it had been under my clothes when I packed.  On top of everything was a “NOTIFICATION OF INSPECTION (NOI).”  Apparently if I had any prohibited items they were turned over to the proper authorities.  I’m glad they don’t think sex toys are “Hazardous Materials.”

After packing, the Viking and I went out in search of food and shopping.  We ate at Big Bowl, which apparently prides itself on using seasonal, local produce.  Yay, I don’t have to feel like I’m compromising my inner hippie in the Midwest.  Lunch was really quite good for a somewhat gimmicky (albeit small) chain restaurant.

Then we went shopping.  I’m not a big shopper.  I mostly get annoyed, and when it comes to shopping for intimate apparel, depressed.  The Viking wanted to go bra shopping with me, I think mostly because he wanted to see my boobies in a different setting, but I didn’t want to do that on vacation.  Vacations, after all, are supposed to be fun, not demoralizing.

Chicago has one of just a few of the Lego® stores on earth.  We walked into one of those vertical urban shopping malls and climbed a few escalators.  We knew we were close when in the well of the escalators there were figures made out of Lego blocks.  There was a giant spider and a big rat, made out of Lego bricks.  We went into the store, where there were many, many different sets.  There was also an area where individual blocks could be purchased individually.  While the individual bricks looked pretty, I couldn’t think of what to make with them.  I want to make some fun, funky jewelry with Lego blocks.

The Viking bought me a couple of the sets from the Architecture series. I’m going to have a lot of fun putting these together.  I really like Lego.  I’m a childish nerd.

There were stations where one could put together sets of three Lego people.  Their headgear, heads/faces, torsos, legs, and up to two accessories could be picked individually.  I had an idea considering Pride was coming up, so I got a set of three custom people.

We took our booty back to the room and fit the Lego sets into my luggage.  The Viking escorted me all the way to the airport, which was very much appreciated considering Chicago train stations have stairs, not escalators.  It would have been very difficult for me to carry my heavy-as-shit suitcase.

After the Viking dropped me off I went to my gate.  Luckily, close by was a bar where I had a couple of drinks.  While drinking them I began to play Plants vs. Zombies.  Then, as I entered the gate area I saw someone I know.  Someone I know from San Francisco.  It’s a small, small world.

We talked, but unfortunately we weren’t seated near each other, and the good ol’ days of easily being able to change seats are over.  But my friend texted me before take off and offered to buy me a drink.  Thank you very much.

The entire flight passed very quickly because I was killing zombies the whole time.  Once at home I saw that my baggage had again been inspected.  This time my Hitachi Magic Wand had been left on top of the other suitcase contents.

I had a great time in Chicago.  It’s a nice place to visit.  Would I want to live there?

I swear.  True story.

[Continued from "Chicago:  June 19, 2010."]

When I woke up in the morning I was feeling much, much better.  We took a cab to Jam, in West Town, for brunch.  After putting our name in for a table, we walked around the neighborhood a bit.  The neighborhood was cute and arty, with some nice graffiti, like this creepy zombie dude.

From the looks of things, Chicago is a dog- friendly city, which of course Isis and I require.  We saw several pet-related businesses with cute, punny names.  Like Urban Out Sitters.  And Spotland Yard, which unfortunately appeared to be out of business.

But the best discovery by far was the bar/liquor store combination.  “Oh, you’re cutting me off?  Ok, I’ll take a bottle of cheap vodka to go.  Thank you.”  Cheap vodka because the bar/liquor store we went to was very divey.  Of course I like me a good dive bar.

The conveniently located dive bar/liquor store came in handy after we were seated outside in the courtyard adjoining the restaurant.  It was brunch so of course I wanted mimosas, but Jam doesn’t have a liquor license.  They had fresh squeezed orange juice though.  I popped into the the dive bar/liquor store for some cheap “champagne” and we were set.

Jam’s courtyard was shaded and cool.  Sunday’s weather was also significantly cooler than Saturday’s had been so the outdoor seating was rather nice.  The courtyard had a bunch of really interesting sculptures.  One was a tower of Tonka Trucks that had been allowed to get weathered and rusty.  Another looked like a horse made out of canvas.  It didn’t look creepy at all, I promise. These looked like cattle shells.  Or something like that.

Brunch was really good.  Really, really good.  First, we shared an appetizer portion of French toast served with rhubarb.  Y-U-M.  I had a take on eggs benedict with pork belly and pea hollandaise.  It was really good, but I thought the bread they used was too thick.  I ended up slicing it in half laterally so each bite could contain just a bit of bread, egg, pork, and sauce.  The Viking had a Spanish omelet.  Both were tasty.  I go on so because I really liked the place, as you can tell by this photo.  Or maybe it was the mimosas.

With our bellies full we walked towards the train.  Before we go to the train we saw a sign that indicated that downtown was only 2 1/2 miles away.  That’s an easy walk, especially when everything’s flat.  We walked through some pretty run-down areas, with a lot of boarded windows and medical supply stores.  Not much was open.  It was a Latino neighborhood, which reminded me of the Mission, only not nearly as lively.  We even passed a street vendor selling tacos.

I thought it was great.  In San Francisco we have a taco truck right outside our building.  The Viking, however, didn’t like that the neighborhood was so run down.  He definitely had a point.  I want to feel like I can walk at night alone in whatever neighborhood I live, and with so many empty places, it seems unlikely there.

We walked into the city, and after a stop at an Irish pub for fortification, walked to Navy Pier.  The folks that run the architectural river tour were nice enough to allow us to transfer our reservation from the night before.  We sat on the deck of the boat in full sun at the hottest time of the day.  To combat the heat, there was a bar on the boat.  Thank you vodka and soda.  All of them were very refreshing.

The tour was packed with information.  Both the Viking and I declared our love for architecture.  We’re going to look into a more detailed architectural tour, maybe focusing on particular styles.  Chicago is a great city for architecture.  It’ll be fun to explore further.  The Viking tends to like Neoclassical buildings while I like Art Deco a lot.

We walked back to our hotel.  On the way we decided that we would have a quickie before we had to meet friends of the Viking’s for dinner.  We walked faster.  I did, however, have to stop to take a picture of this fun sticker/graffiti combination.

Once in our room, we had a very fun, very quickie.  Thankfully we had time to shower before we had to walk to the restaurant because between all the walking all over the city and the fast and furious fucking, we were sweaty messes.

We ate at a Brazilian place.  The kind with a salad bar and lots of meat.  Lots and lots of meat.  One of our group was herself Brazilian so other than the meat and salad bar, we also had a variety of side dishes that non-Brazilians don’t know to ask for.

Dinner was good, but unlike the Brazilian places elsewhere, they did not have any chicken hearts.  I like chicken hearts, they remind me of my white trash childhood.  According to the floor manager, they are not allowed to serve chicken hearts.  None of us at the table could figure out why, if they served chicken, they could not serve all of the chicken.  We thought maybe it had to do with the city’s ban of foie gras, that a law might include all poultry offal.  (The ban ended in 2008.)

After dinner the Viking and I went to the bar on the 96th floor of the John Hancock Center.  Due to one of those damn support beams keeping the building up, we didn’t have much of a view from our seat.  I used the ladies’ room, which had a great view of the city skyline and Lake Michigan.  I told the Viking to go to the bathroom so he could take in such a beautiful view.  The men’s room, however, did not have windows at all.  Gender discrimination!

Then back to the hotel for zombie killing.  I’m really into Plants vs. Zombies.  However, I am no gamer.  Look, I made my own Zombatar.  Isn’t she cute?

I killed some zombies, we watched some tv, and napped some.  Don’t worry, we’re not uptight.  We did some fucking.  We put both the flogger and the njoy Eleven to very good use.  The Eleven is so fucking great.  Makes me come with it’s big coldness.  And the flogger feels just lovely on the buttocks.

I left Chicago the next day, so the story is obviously to be continued.

I swear.  True story.

[Continued from "Chicago: June 18, 2010."]

I’m used to Isis waking me up very early, about 6am, so I tend to wake up at that time no matter what.  Before I had a chance to go back to sleep, the Viking and I were cuddling.  And then it was hot because I was silly enough to have packed flannel pj’s.  I took off my pj’s not as in invitation for sex, but so I could go back to sleep more comfortably.  The Viking, however, had a different idea.  Once he got going, things felt really good and I couldn’t think of any reason to stop him.

We went back to sleep for a while.  We purposely didn’t put down the window shades for fear we’d sleep too late, so when the Viking woke me up, again feeling amorous, I knew by the light coming in the window it was close to time for us to get out of bed anyway.  But not before the Viking and I endeavored to give me a very nice orgasm.

We finally got up still pretty early and took the train to Lincoln Park.  We went to the Bourgeois Pig for breakfast.  I had very delicious French toast and an iced coffee.  I’m not a big coffee drinker.  Back when I worked at an office, I’d get a fancy, sweet, milk-laden coffee drink around 10:30am, just to stay awake.  Very, very rarely I’d have more than one coffee in a day.  Since I’ve not worked in an office in a while, I’ve not had much coffee at all.

After breakfast we walked around the neighborhood a bit, through a park where there were dogs and families, and then to a farmers market.  The neighborhood was cute, perhaps a little too cute; I need some grit in a neighborhood.  The farmers market was in the parking lot of a school, and had a reasonable variety of vendors.  Staying in a hotel and eating out for every meal, I was missing fresh produce.  We bought some tomatoes, some peaches, and some strawberries.  The peaches were especially tasty.

Then the Viking and I walked around, checking out the neighborhood.  It was a hot and humid day, as would be expected in mid-June in the Midwest.  I had sunscreened, but I still insisted we walk on the shady side of the street when we could.  We did a lot of walking.  It was all flat, so it was easy.  We walked up into Lakeview, mostly because I wanted to see some blatant homosexual behavior in Boystown.

I’ve lived in San Francisco for ten years.  I like that same-sex couples are comfortable to publicly display affection, and I can’t live in any city in which that isn’t the case.  We didn’t see any grab-ass, but we did see manly salons and a poster for a transsexual beauty pageant.  Good enough.

I also couldn’t live in a city that didn’t have cool graffiti.  On our walk on Saturday I saw this nice tidbit.  It wasn’t until recently that I noticed cool graffiti at all.  That is thanks to my friend Ramona, with whom I’d be walking around in San Francisco only to have her stop and take pictures of scribblings I’d previously not noticed.  There is some cool graffiti out there, and Chicago is no exception.

We walked around the neighborhood looking for places where the Viking could replace his recently departed belt.  One shop was too hip for his purposes; there were brightly colored and studded belts, no dress belts.  Finally, we settled on Marshall’s.  When we walked in, I realized I’d not been to a Marshall’s in probably over ten years, and at the most five times in my life.

The Viking got a good belt at Marshall’s and then we walked back outside into the heat.  I’ve done Southeast Asia in the summer, and I’ve done non-coastal California in the summer; I can do the heat.  But I really did want a drink, a nice, cold drink.

We saw a place that claimed to serve terrific margaritas, but I wasn’t really into having alcohol yet.  Mark your calendars, people.  So we went to a Starbucks where I ordered a “Caramel Frappuccino Blended Coffee,” which is apparently what they’re called now.  I remember when they were just Frappuccinos, but the cashier called out not only “Frappuccino” but also “Blended Coffee” as if that was really important.

We walked to the train and returned to the hotel where we showered and changed for dinner.  We had planned an early dinner so we had time to go to the architectural tour on the Chicago River at dusk.  It was once we were in our room that I began feeling weird.  I was shaky.  My stomach made some very audible gurgles.  Hmm.

I realized that two coffees in one day was way too many for me.  I was spazzing out due to too much caffeine.  The Viking suggested we leave for dinner early so we had time to walk around, which might help alleviate my feelings of restlessness.  We took a cab to West Loop where we walked around and saw the French Market at the Metra Station.  I love a city that encourages public transportation.

We walked in the direction of our dinner destination, past the Batcolumn.  There are few monuments in the world that aren’t phallic, and a giant bat sticking straight up is certainly phallic.

It was still very early for dinner, but we could see a street fair in the distance.  It was the usual street fair with loud music by mediocre local bands, local food vendors, and vendors of silly things like severely over-bedazzled novelty tank tops.  We got some chips and guacamole, which was pretty tasty.  (That’s saying a lot, as I’ve won a guacamole  contest.)

While we ate our chips and guacamole we saw a wild bunny.  It was a little, hoppy, rabbit apparently scared by all the activity.  A dog chased it as far as it could considering the constraint of its leash.

We also saw that we were near the Oprah Store.  I didn’t even know there was an Oprah Store.  I have no interest in ever going to the Oprah Store.  And I’m certainly not going to watch a live taping of the Oprah Show.  I don’t like Oprah and I don’t give a shit about sports.  I certainly hope Chicago has other things to offer.

We went to a fine sushi dinner, which I wasn’t able to fully appreciate because the coffee was doing a number on me.  I was shaking and my stomach was flopping about.  Not pleasant.

We were scheduled to go to the architectural river tour, but with how I felt there was no way I would be ok on a boat.  So after a trip to the drug store, we ended up spending the evening in our hotel room.  The Viking was very nice and took very good care of me, including getting me a Subway sandwich around midnight.

Don’t worry, we had fun the next day.  [To be continued.]

I swear.  True story.

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