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What have you done with my shy little Sue. Ok lets get shep on the bench.I set sheps pain threshold at 100 percent and set him to sleep. I put him on the workbench and carefully made an incision in the back of his neck and carefully slid the chip in. We could leave the cable sticking out for now. I stitched him back up with some fine fishing line and then covered it with a sticking plaster. We cleaned him and the bench up. there had been a bit more blood than I expected. We left a loop of cable and taped the rest to his collar for now.We woke shep up and gave him some food.You ok to try again sue.Ok.Again we hooked them both up. Shep was straight over to Sue and mounted her. Thats not the same as before. can you disconect us I dont want to lay here in front of you getting mounted by a dog.I switched them both off but shep was still keen to mount Sue so I took him outside.I could try connecting to him and see if my chip is compatible but I dont realy want him mounting me. How do you. Next he leaned over and popped one of the rock hard buds into his mouth, teasing it between his teeth, causing more moans of pleasure with each nip. He sucked each nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue around them, savoring his first taste of her feminine flesh.Reluctantly he pulled his mouth off her tit flesh and sat back to enjoy watching Buster devour her. He watched as she raised her hips off the sofa, trying to push her mound onto the dog's snout, trying to pull that long, talented tongue deeper into her cavity."Buster. Back!"The dog pulled back, lashing out at the last moment to get one final taste of the treasure trove before him. He retreated to the other side of the room and lay there, waiting to be called back for more, but his wait would be longer than the animal could have anticipated, because now James was going to have his turn with this woman he'd lusted after for over 40 years.He got on his knees and looked at the open hole before him, still glistening from the.
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What he wanted was Somers’ advice. How did you write something that hit the big money like Somers had done? Carl knew, of course, that a degenerative disease meant Somers now used a wheelchair. Was it to sublimate his wish for a more active life that he still wrote the Dara Cruft stories in which she loped effortlessly through jungles rescuing near-extinct species of moss and fungi? Carl did feel it for the old man, who had been a minor star on tennis circuits in the early days. You could sometimes still find an old copy of one of his books with a photo of him on the back wielding a racquet. Laughing with his blue eyes as well as his mouth, a sweater knotted carelessly over his broad shoulders, his thick blond hair swept back from a patrician brow. He had looked something like Carl, although it was swimming that was Carl’s sport. For Christ’s sake! He was a junior league swimming champion and he had a summer job looking after a freaking swimming pool! Carl still swam regularly for.

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