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From: Saynesberry@aol.com
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Subject: {ASSM} An E-Mail from Granny (teen f, bestiality)
Date: Fri, 17 Mar 2000 04:10:01 -0500
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AN E-MAIL FROM GRANNY
by
Frank Saynesberry
WARNING:
This is not a nice story. It is not a pleasant story. It is not a funny
story. Do not read if you are disturbed by disturbing things. Read it if
you choose; enjoy it if you can.
*******************************************************************
"See you tomorrow, Rosa," said Janelle Tompkins, easing the big yellow school
bus to a complete stop and letting the door hiss open. "You be a good girl
now, hear?" 15-year-old Rosa Reithaube looked over her shoulder at the
enormous woman who drove the bus, and flashed her prettiest smile. "You bet,
Janelle! Have a good one!" Then, hefting her book-bag more securely onto
her shoulder, she grabbed the chrome bar by the door and swung down to the
pavement. When she reached the sidewalk, the door slid shut again, and Rosa
waved merrily to her shouting, laughing classmates and friends as the bus
slowly rolled away.
When it was out of sight, she began the two-block trudge to her house on
Wildwood Circle. It was a beautiful spring day, school would be over soon,
and, best of all, she had just received the best birthday present of her
young life: a brand-new, state-of-the-art personal computer! Her father, she
recalled, had been so cute when he gave it to her: a simple man who loved his
only child fiercely, he often seemed embarrassed when he gave her such
wonderful gifts, or did anything super-special for her. "It's no big deal,"
he had muttered when she unwrapped the machine, squealing with delight, "I
just figured with you goin' to high school next fall, it might help you with
your homework, or something." She had, of course, rushed to throw her arms
around his neck and babble her gratitude in his ear; he blushed, gave her a
fatherly bear-hug squeeze, and then helped her assemble and install the thing
in her bedroom.
What he didn't say, of course, was what they both knew anyway: that for all
his good intentions, he wasn't much help with her homework under the best
circumstances. Walter Reithaube was an agricultural engineer for one of the
country's largest forestry companies, and although he possessed vast
technical and biological knowledge (and was very well paid), he was, in
social or family situations, painfully shy, and not very free with words.
But he loved his daughter, and when her mother had died years before, he had
sworn to himself that the child would want for nothing. On those frequent
occasions when he had to travel, he would actually hire a registered nurse
(although he called her a "housekeeper") to come and stay with Rosa until he
returned. Grandmother Reithaube lived just across town, but how reliable
could such an elderly person be in a crisis? ("Elderly," in this case, meant
55 or 60, but Rosa's father felt more comfortable hiring a professional.)
Even now, only a few days after Rosa's birthday, he would have to hop on a
jet to survey some newly acquired timberland in Wisconsin.
Reaching her front door at last, Rosa unlocked the door and shrugged off the
backpack on a nearby chair. "Miss Bennett?" she called, but there was no
answer. Apparently, the "housekeeper" (or baby-sitter, in Rosa's disgruntled
view) had gone to the grocery store or on some other errand, and would be
back soon. Rosa wandered into the kitchen, ate one of the last remaining
slices of birthday cake, and poured a glass of milk, which she carried up the
stairs to her room.
Her room was a mess, of course, but no more so than that of any girl who had
just turned 15, without a mother's constant nagging to keep it clean. Her
unmade queen-sized bed was covered with stuffed animals, fashion magazines,
and all the usual artifacts of any American teenager's existence.
Schoolbooks and assignments had been relegated to the floor when the new
computer was set up atop her small desk. And, after a quick visit to the
bathroom, it was to the computer that she headed, like a honeybee to the
hive. Settling down in her chair and booting the machine up, she was quickly
connected to her service provider, and she was delighted, as usual, when the
bells and voices and ever-shifting images began to load. Soon, the little
window popped up listing her on-line "buddies," most of whom were friends
from school with whom she exchanged many hours of happy, relatively mindless
gossip and chitchat.
Except, that is, for one particular person. "Girl-talk" (or, even better,
boy-talk) was great, but when Rosa really needed to confide in someone, or
just cry on somebody's shoulder, her most important "buddy" was none other
than Grandmother Reithaube. A year earlier, concerned because his widowed
mother lived alone, Walter had bought a computer for her, too, to help her
while away the hours of loneliness, as well as provide an extra lifeline if
there were ever a health emergency. Now, however, Rosa and her Grandmother,
who had been very close since Rosa's Mom had died, frequently held long,
often intimate conversations through the electronic emptiness of cyberspace.
Even now, Gran's name began to flash on Rosa's list, inviting her to "chat."
Rosa excitedly double-checked her font settings (she always used a blue
script on a pink background), and then clicked on her Grandmother's name.
"Hi, Gran," she typed quickly. "How ya doin' today?"
"I'm just fine, honey," came the reply after a moment, "and how's my favorite
granddaughter? Did you just get home from school?"
Rosa waited patiently, while simultaneously bringing up her favorite fashions
page. Her Grandmother's keyboarding had always been lightning-fast, for she
was a former secretary, but lately it had slowed down considerably. Rosa, of
course, being new to the on-line experience, didn't recognize the difference,
and thought that Gran just typed slowly because she was getting old.
"Yes, and Gran, guess what? I think Alex Russell is gonna ask me to the
dance next week! I can't believe it! I've been dying to go out with him,
but since he's a senior, I didn't even think he knew I was alive! But Lucy,
you know, my friend Lucy, she talked to Alex's brother and...." Rosa's
fingers moved over the keyboard in a blur; obviously, a teenager could babble
in cyberspace as well as anywhere else.
"Why, Rosa Reithaube! Do you mean Sally and Alan Russell's boy? Why, I've
known that child since he was born! I even went to school with his
grandfather, Jack Russell! What a coincidence!" Slow typist or not, the
words flashed like lightning across Rosa's screen. The girl's eyes grew wide
with astonishment, and she began furiously pecking at the keyboard again.
"Are U kidding, Gran? That's SOOOOO not to be believed!" Although a
"newbie," Rosa had already picked up the abbreviations and shortcuts favored
by teenagers, as became obvious when she became excited. "Yes, Alex's parents
are named Alan and Sally! And U KNOW them?" In case her Grandmother didn't
see how thrilled she was, she typed a string of smiley-face emoticons after
the words.
"Know them? Honey, I practically raised them! You know, poor Jack - - -
that would be your Alex's grandfather - - - was killed in a tragic, tragic
hunting accident, and I was very close to his widow; poor thing, she's gone
too, now. But I practically raised little Alan myself, and now you think his
boy is going to ask you out!"
"That's awesome, Gran," Rosa wrote. But the thing she found most awesome was
Gran's phrase, "your Alex....." Mine? she thought. He hasn't even asked
yet! But if he did....and Gran knows them all so well....oh, wouldn't Daddy
be surprised? "Oh, Gran, this is just unreal!" she wrote. "Oh, I wish there
were some way...I mean, I'm sure you don't see them very much any more, but
if only they knew how much I like him....or I'd like to like him, or
something!"
Rosa couldn't hear her Grandmother's laughter, but she sensed it when the
"old lady's" next words appeared: "Oh, honey, I think I understand perfectly!
Now, let me think. Your old Gran's not entirely useless, you know! Well,
since you're my favorite granddaughter [in fact, Rosa was the only
granddaughter, but this was their little joke], and because poor Jack is
probably smiling down on us right now, let me get off this silly machine and
make some phone calls. And I'll get back in touch with you a little later.
Now, go do your homework!" Before Rosa could even finish typing her reply,
her Grandmother's name disappeared from the screen.
Puzzled, troubled, excited, and ecstatic (a mixture of emotions occurring
frequently in the adolescent female), Rosa deleted her fashion "magazine" and
reluctantly started to do research for an English paper that was due the next
week. For some reason, Ms. Bennett had not returned yet, but this didn't
trouble the girl; if she got hungry, she was quite capable of feeding
herself, and Ms. Bennett had, once or twice, been known to come in quite late
at night. Rosa hadn't reported this to her father; she was saving it for
ammunition in some future dispute: "Well, you think your wonderful Ms.
Bennett takes such good care of me, but let me tell you....." Yes, that
would be worth a few points!
After an hour, Rosa took a break and went down to the kitchen, where she
cooked herself a quick hamburger and defrosted some ready-cut French fries;
after gobbling them down, she put the dishes in the sink and walked back to
her room. When she got there, she immediately saw the light flashing in the
corner of her monitor screen, informing her that she had a message waiting.
She ran to the computer and sat down; in a split-second, she was reading her
Grandmother's latest e-mail, sent perhaps 30 minutes before.
"Rosa: I tried to get you on the fast-message thing, but you must have been
downstairs. I just took my medication and am going to bed, but I wanted to
tell you about the strangest thing! You know that old sofa I've had forever
and ever? I've wanted to send it down to the Salvation Army for ages, but
it's so hard to find the right time. I know your Dad would help if he were
here, but he's not, and I just WON'T look at it another DAY! So tomorrow
afternoon, guess who's volunteered to come carry it away for me? Why, that
dear Sally Russell said that her boy Alex would be delighted to do it, just
as soon as he gets out of school tomorrow! Well, dear, that's all. When are
you going to come visit? Wink!!!"
Rosa couldn't believe it. The nerve of the old woman! The very idea! Oh,
God bless her! That was her Gran! Her buddy! She moved mountains when nobody
but she and Rosa knew the mountains were there! She laughed and actually
clapped her hands with delight, then turned off the computer, tore into the
last of her must-do homework, and then spun through her nightly shower,
humming and squealing a love song from a movie about a leaky ocean liner.
By the time the mysterious Ms. Bennett finally got home (she had been working
a part-time job at a florist's shop, a fact she had not chosen to share with
Rosa's father), the girl had been in bed for half an hour, humming, planning,
not-quite-dreaming about the coming day. When Ms. Bennett quietly opened the
bedroom door to check on her, the "housekeeper" smiled contentedly and went
to her own quarters for the night. When sleep eventually began to gently
overcome her thoughts of Alex Russell, Rosa was unconsciously sucking her
thumb like a baby, while her other hand, slick with her own juices, came
finally to rest in the tangle of blonde hair between her thighs.
* * * * * * *
The day had gone by like a blur. Rosa had expected the time to drag
unbearably while she waited for her "surprise rendezvous" at Gran's house,
but she was pleased to find that the hours passed quickly. Of course, her
thoughts were centered on Alex throughout the day, whether sitting in class
ignoring the teachers, or sitting in the cafeteria ignoring her friends'
chatter, or standing in the Girls' Room, perhaps ten times during the day,
surveying herself in the mirror: barely five feet two; strawberry-blonde hair
that had never been really cut, and hung to her waist in golden waves;
skinny, but promising, legs, and upturned, 32-inch breasts, unhampered by a
bra, beneath her white cotton shirt and cute cut-off "overalls." Her tiny
feet, of course, were encased in fashionable "trail boots" that appeared to
weigh about ten pounds apiece. Yes, she decided, Alex would notice her today!
Instead of taking the bus home from school that afternoon, she was lucky
enough to catch a ride with a friend who lived only a couple of blocks from
Gran's house. She gossiped happily with the friend, even taking time to join
her in a forbidden cigarette once they'd arrived at the her house; after all,
she wanted to give Alex time to get to Gran's before she did. It shouldn't
look like a setup or a trap! She almost laughed at the idea, choking on a
breath of smoke. Then, thanking her friend again for the ride, she struck
out for her Grandmother's house.
When she arrived, she was disappointed to see that Alex's car was not in
sight; apparently, she'd gotten there ahead of him, after all. Oh, great,
she thought, this really will look like a trap! But Gran's intentions were
good, and it could still work out if she just stifled her nerves and acted
natural. That's it, she thought. Dazzle him with your maturity! She walked
up the steps and knocked at Gran's front door.
There was no response, but such was not unusual. Either Gran hadn't heard
the door, or was in the bathroom, or something. Play it natural, remember?
she reminded herself. So she tentatively reached for the doorknob, and, when
it turned easily in her hand, she pushed the door open and strolled in, just
as though this were her everyday routine.
The little house was certainly active; a soap opera was blaring from the
television, most of the lamps were on, and there was even a whiff of coffee
coming from the kitchen. She walked through the house, glancing into each
room. Everything was normal, but where was Gran? Then, realizing just how
much alike she and her Grandmother were, she laughed out loud and headed for
the woman's bedroom. She's probably on the computer, talking to somebody
else!
Rosa pushed open the bedroom door and glanced around. No Gran, but sure
enough, the computer was on, its monitor flashing wildly: apparently there
was a message for someone, but it would have to wait; she wanted to find her
Grandmother. She noticed that the door was closed to the small bathroom
nearby, walked over, and gently rapped on it. But instead of receiving a
reply, Rosa was surprised when the door, which had been just slightly ajar,
creaked open, and there was Gran.
Gran was in the bathtub, mostly, but she also seemed to be in the sink;
except for her head, with its agonized, extinguished eyes staring up from
inside the toilet bowl. Strips and scraps of Gran's favorite lounging
outfit, now soaked with blood, clung to the walls, hung from the shower rod,
and cluttered the floor. Virtually every surface in the little room was
covered with blood: the mirror, the little window, even the ceiling, from
which some of Gran's grey-brown hair also dangled, stuck there by congealed
gore. And in the bathtub, mixed together with the mutilated flesh, was a
mass of feces and half-digested food. Police later estimated that, at the
time of Rosa's discovery, her Grandmother had been dead for approximately 48
hours.
So poor little Rosa Reithaube added to the mess by instantly vomiting, and if
she hadn't just urinated at her friend's house, she probably would have done
that too; but something kept her from fainting, and since some people react
differently than others, she didn't scream. After hacking and choking out
the last of the vomit, she staggered back into the bedroom and approached the
table where the telephone sat. But wait, she said to herself, turn off that
fucking computer first! Its flashing screen was driving her crazy!
Then, as she neared the computer, she momentarily froze. For the entire
screen was a field of yellow, with a message in bright red letters; and the
very top line, in 48-point Tahoma bold, said, WELCOME, ROSA!!!
Again she felt the urge to vomit, but this time there was nothing to bring
up. She stood in front of the computer, sweating, tears and mucous rushing
from her eyes and nose, and stuffed her hands into her armpits, hugging
herself as she read:
"Sorry, dear, that you missed your boyfriend, but since he wasn't coming
anyway, you didn't really miss him! And I'm sorry, my sweet, about all this
mess, and that Gran isn't more, shall we say, 'presentable,' but I had to
amuse myself while I waited for you. I'm just glad we finally have a chance
to meet. We can't talk, because I don't exactly speak English, but with a
lot of practice, you'd be surprised at how well one can operate a keyboard
with paws instead of hands! And why do I have paws? THE BETTER TO FEEL YOU
WITH, MY DEAR!"
As she read the final words in the crazy message, Rosa heard a low, throaty
growl coming from the corner of the room behind Gran's bed. Dazed with
horror, trying desperately to believe it was only a dream, she turned around
very slowly and saw it. Rising up from the floor where it had been hiding,
the wolf was blackish-brown, with irregular traces of silver running through
its heavy, matted fur. It didn't look much larger than a very large German
Shepherd, but every inch was wiry and wild and literally trembling with
aggression. Its ears lay slightly back against its skull, and its twitching
lips were drawn back to reveal yellowish, jagged fangs. But most bizarre of
all were the other two features that instantly registered on Rosa's reeling
consciousness: the wide, foot-long erection, jutting bright red and dripping
from the beast's underbelly, and its gleaming, evil eyes, staring out at Rosa
from behind Gran's own gold-framed reading glasses, which perched
precariously on the animal's snout.
It was the glasses, in fact, which finally overcame her. Without losing
consciousness, without even closing her eyes, Rosa's lithe young body seemed
to simply surrender, and her knees buckled and she was suddenly on the floor,
looking up at the ceiling. She waited for the darkness, but it did not come;
she had not lived long enough to know just how stubborn her spirit really
was. She lay sprawled on the bedroom carpet, unable to see anything but the
constantly revolving images of the slaughter in the bathroom, the animal
nearby, and, of all things, the face of Alex Russell!
Still growling, the wolf shook his head and the reading glasses went flying
across the room. He did not spring, but eased toward his prey in a crouch,
one slow step at a time, as if waiting to see whether she would remain supine
or suddenly leap up and fight. But finally he was there, sniffing at the
petrified girl from head to foot, reaching out several times with a curiously
dainty paw to press the flesh of her thigh, her face, or her breast. She
shuddered at his touch, and when his head came close to her face, she fought
the waves of nausea caused by his breath, sharp and foul from her
grandmother's blood and flesh.....
He was no longer growling, but would occasionally give forth a soft,
contented moan, like a hound with its belly being scratched. Still
crouching, he sniffed at her throat, where she had daubed a bit of perfume
for Alex's sake, and then at her breast. Nudging its softness with his
black, quivering nose, he sensed rather than felt the nipple through the
cotton blouse and denim bodice of her overalls. Impatiently, but with
infinite gentleness, he closed his teeth on the hidden nipple, then
immediately released it, and repeated the process with the other breast.
Rosa was nearly frozen with fear, but she realized that she still had some
sort of defensive reflexes when the wolf made his next move.
Backing up a step or two, the animal took the collar of the shirt, and the
top seam of the bodice, in his teeth and ripped them away. The brass buttons
from the denim straps pinged meaninglessly off the wall, as denim and blouse
together came away in his strong jaws. Rosa shivered as the cool air rushed
over her small pink nipples, and her breasts, although firm, shivered as
well. Then the wolf began to lap at her breasts with the tip of his tongue,
and as he settled into a more comfortable crouch, his hot, wet penis slapped
up against Rosa's thigh, just above the knee. This was the catalyst for
Rosa's reaction; if she hadn't known what was happening before, she knew now.
With all the pent-up disappointment, horror, and grief within her, Rosa
screamed and slammed the heels of her hands against the wolf's head, while at
the same time rocking her hips so that her thigh would no longer be
contaminated by his horrible penis. For the briefest moment, the animal's
eyes registered shock, and he backed off a fraction of an inch; but before
Rosa could take another breath, he hurled his body forward, slamming the
breath from her, and with a heart-rending growl, he sank his deep, yellow
canines into one of her naked shoulders. She screamed again, from pain this
time, but the wolf merely sank his fangs in deeper, deeper, until they
touched bone. Then he pulled back his head, using all his upper body
strength, and lifted Rosa's shoulders from the floor; then, growling like an
ancient engine, he chewed and worried and rammed her shoulder into the floor
again and again. Finally, Rosa stopped screaming, stopped struggling, and
simply lay in a daze, and the wolf released his hold. He had broken no
arteries, but blood was already pooling around Rosa's shoulders and soaking
her fine blonde hair. Had the wolf not stopped, he might easily have torn
her arm off. The bitch had learned her lesson.
She was aware of everything that happened after that, and she would never
forget it. But even now, how could she believe it? Was this thing, this
animal, this hairy, bloody relic of the forest, the same creature who had
posed as her Grandmother, and "chatted" with her on the computer because he
could not deceive her with his voice? Was this creature rational? Or had
someone else, some crazy, awful human person, have incapacitated Gran, lain
the trap for her, and then turned this wild beast loose in her home? But who
would have dared to put the reading glasses on him? And he seemed to know
exactly what he was doing! Even now, as he - - - oh, noooo.....
The wolf took the remains of Rosa's overalls in his teeth and, with a few
moves, tore them from her body. She was naked now, except for her white
cotton panties. Again, he crouched beside her; again, he sniffed and licked
at her nipples and armpits and belly. But this time she offered no
resistance. He had destroyed her shoulder, she thought; next time it would
be her throat....or worse. As if reading her mind, the wolf moved its
surprisingly short, bloody snout around and began to sniff at her crotch,
nudging her thighs apart. Then his long, dark-pink tongue snaked out and
probed at her vagina through the cotton. Rosa began to weep, even as her
uncomprehending body began to lubricate and prepare itself for sex.
Realizing that the panties were not indeed a part of her flesh, but mere
covering, the wolf gave a brief snarl and ripped out the crotch, leaving the
low-cut waistband intact. Now she was naked; now he had her. Suddenly, he
stood up, straightened, and walked around Rosa's body like a dog preparing to
go to sleep. But sleep was not his aim. To Rosa's agonized surprise, he
stood over her, only facing downward, and began nuzzling and nibbling at her
vagina. It was the scent, she realized, and damned her own body; it was the
scent of her over-stimulated pussy that was attracting the wolf's attention.
He continued to lick and nip, once even breaking the skin of her labia with
the sharp points of his teeth. Now, however, there was a new horror. The
beast lowered his body until it came to rest on Rosa's own; and now, his
huge, club-shaped erection was pressed directly over her face, its giant knob
positioned atop her tightly clutched lips. His black, leathery balls rested
directly beneath her nose, shutting off her nostrils. Now everything she did
stimulated the beast more. If she tried to breathe through her nostrils, her
breath would tickle his balls; if she dared open her lips, to try to suck
some air between her teeth, his wet, red cock would actually slip into her
mouth. After feeling that slimy, blood-swollen thing on her tongue once or
twice, she was almost willing to suffocate.
Fortunately, she didn't have to choose between choking to death or fellating
a wild animal. Now the wolf was aroused beyond the point of no return, and
he gave her pussy one last lick, sending another hated shiver of undeniable
pleasure through her body, then rolled off her and stood up again. He
resumed growling and began nudging his snout under the small of her back,
trying to push his head farther beneath her with each movement. What on
earth was he doing? Rosa wondered, her body dazed from the conflicting
sensations of her tongue-bathed vagina and her shredded shoulder. Then she
realized. He's growling! He's telling me to turn over! As his growls began
to increase, she sobbed and rolled over, deciding to let him get it over
with. He stopped growling at once. She gazed at him for a brief moment: Who
are you? What are you? Why me? Then, not wanting the beast to suspect her
of hesitating, she bit her lip and leaned forward on her elbows and forearms,
her forehead resting on her hands. She raised her little ass to the
presentation position, putting all the weight of her lower body on her knees,
and finally, with the most Godforsaken sob imaginable, she reached around
behind her hips and spread her pussy lips as wide as possible.
The wolf was on her and in her in an instant. Clasping his forelegs firmly
around her ribcage, his black, thorn-like claws ripping into her swaying,
bobbing breasts, he buried his snout in her sweat-stained, blood-soaked hair,
once so golden, and snuffled loudly in her ear as his wild, ever-swelling
cock began to work its way into her vagina. She felt her outer and inner
labia spreading, flattening desperately to accommodate him, and her vagina
continued to frantically lubricate: not for passion, but for self-protection.
If her pussy were dry, this monstrous cock would probably punch through and
pierce her intestines......but she wasn't dry, and that didn't happen. All
that happened was the continual clutching and literal pawing of her bruised
little breasts, and the wolf's snuffles and gasps on her face, and that
cock, now easily fourteen inches long and swollen like a club, swelling even
more so as not to slip out, and the fierce banging away, eternal, unmerciful,
Rosa's hymen torn from her body now, her perineum beginning to rip as though
she was giving birth. Then, abruptly, an actual howl burst from the
creature's lungs while nearly a quart of murky semen burst from his cock,
filling Rosa instantly and then rushing back out, running down her thighs,
running down the wolf's balls, dripping and pooling on the carpet below, as
the animal howled and Rosa howled too, howled with despair, fearing that now
she would die, or, even worse, she would survive. Little Rosa Reithaube had
met the wolf, and the wolf had won.
Until, finally spent, the animal's shrinking phallus slipped out of the girl,
and she collapsed on the floor, finally, mercifully unconscious. And the
wolf stood, dripping at one end and drooling at the other, its sensitive nose
taking in all the scents of this savage new wilderness: the scents of sex and
blood and shit and the rotting meat that used to be Rosa's best buddy, but
would never be again. And although Rosa wondered forever after whether the
wolf had been magic, and had really tricked her, or had merely been part of
some twisted stranger's evil scheme, the wolf didn't wonder. The wolf knew.
Panting, deciding what to do next, the beast glanced around the room, at the
chaos and the confusion, until its burning eyes came to rest on the computer,
where the cruel message to Rosa still flickered. And the dark eyes
glittered, but whether they glittered in triumph or in puzzlement, no one
will ever know, for at that moment, little Rosa Reithaube's father, that
modern-day woodsman, burst through the door with a sawed-off shotgun and blew
bits and pieces of the wolf as far as a quarter-mile away.
The police, rushing in behind Mr. Reithaube, quickly secured the site, as one
very sympathetic policewoman revived Rosa and wrapped her in a bright red
blanket, taking care to cover her bloody and beaten head. "Come along,
honey," the lady cop said, her arm around Rosa's shoulders. "It's time to
leave Grandma's house."
If you enjoyed this story, please write!
Saynesberry@hushmail.com
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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