Camo Hat • Chapter Six
by Sean Reid Scott
Posted: in the before time :: Approx. 5,600 words
AMERON TOOK ANOTHER DRINK from his Margarita and sat the glass down on the table. The lunchtime crowd at the Red Robin restaurant filled both the dining room and the outside terrace where we sat. Cam, in a combed-cotton yellow T-shirt with fabric so thin that you could see his nipples, drew his customary stares and gawks. His broad shoulders-- I never got tired of enjoying their outrageous proportions-- mesmerized everyone.
The waitress who served us had it really bad for Cam. I mean really bad. Yeah, who didn’t, but with her it was pretty obvious. And she was indeed hot-- a fact not overlooked by my huge musclefriend. A very petite build, she was endowed very well. And just a knockout.
She brought us our three meals, and touched Cam’s shoulders. “You sure this’ll be enough food for you? I mean, you must need a lot of nutrition to keep that going on,” she said, eyeing his muscular torso.
Cam smiled up at her. “Well, if I need anything, you’ll be the first to know,” he said.
She probably nearly wet her pants after hearing that. I don’t know what women do-- but I know I would have. She left the table and Cameron and I dug in to our meals.
“Shit,” he whispered, looking askance to see if anyone could hear him talk, “that babe is one hot chick!”
“I didn’t notice,” I said without looking up, chewing my french fries.
“Yeah, right,” Cam said. “Even you noticed. I could tell.” He took a bite of his chicken. “Did you see her boobs?” He scarfed his food down with enthusiasm.
She did have big boobs.
• • • • •
I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be a woman in Cameron’s arms-- in bed with him. The concept made me hard-- and jealous. What must it be like to have him on top of you, penetrating you slowly, forcing his huge cock inside you while he enveloped you with his muscular body? The thought drove me crazy as he flirted with the waitress, even after we left the table. He eventually got her phone number, and we walked out to his car.
I was jealous.
Cameron was oblivious to my feelings, but in truth, I made an effort not to show them. How would that look if I came across as jealous?
Within fifteen minutes, as we drove through town, Cam had made a date with the girl, and that was that for the evening. He was truly turned on, and I was powerless. He dropped me off at home and made a beeline back to his place.
Oh, to be a fly on the wall that night...
But alas, I was left to my pale collection of computer video clips featuring regular, ordinary musclemen. Try as I might, I wasn’t able to get it up, even for my favorites. It was early to bed for me, but sleep came late-- images of Cameron and Waitress, enjoying each other in passionate lovemaking, filled my mind.
Actually, I didn’t sleep much at all that night.
• • • • •
At 9:03 I was awakened by my iPhone ringing. Cameron’s picture was on the screen, with his name above it. I slid my finger over the glass to answer, and was greeted by an enthusiastic Cameron. “You up yet dude?”
“Uh, yeah, man. Just getting some breakfast on,” I lied.
“You fuckin’ liar. I woke you up.”
“Yeah, okay. Leave me alone. Some of us need our beauty rest.”
“No chance, man. I’ll be over in a half hour. Be ready,” he said. The call disconnected, and I jumped out of bed and into my shower.
The shower was fast, and in spite of my fan running, the bathroom was filled with steam and the hot, sultry air of the humid day that lay ahead. I was pretty excited to see Cameron. I mean, he wanted to be with me after the Waitress encounter! I was so excited that I didn’t bother to clean my cum off the side of the side of my shower. (Yeah, I had regained my libido over night.)
I left a note for the air conditioning man, and put the key under the mat, and jumped into Cameron’s FJ Cruiser almost before it came to a stop.
“Mornin’” I said, nonchalantly as I climbed in. He was wearing--- Oh fuck. He was wearing a muscle shirt. A tight fitting muscle shirt-- his arms were the only thing exposed, and boy, were they exposed. Fucking shit, those were colossal guns. No man on the planet would dare challenge those babies. Un. real.
“Morning, dude!” he said. And then the most amazing thing happened. He leaned over to me, and he kissed me! It was just a peck, but a kiss it was.
Oh hell! What in hell is happening to me?
He resumed his position behind the wheel, and we were off. “Shit, man, I had one hot night last night!” he beamed.
“Yeah?” I smiled.
“Fuck, yeah,” he grinned. And then he commenced to tell me about the whole night. I mean, everything. Every sensual, sexual, hot detail. Over the next half hour, as we drove to breakfast, and sat at the table eating our meal, Cam proceeded to enlighten me about every detail of his tryst with the petite waitress. He told me, explicitly, how he caressed her jugs, held her in his strong arms, and how she ran her soft hands all over every ripple, every ridge and mountain of his body. He told me how small she was underneath him. Holy fuck-- what a picture that painted in my mind. And then he told me about how he penetrated her-- how he filled her, how he overpowered her, how she begged for mercy.
And how she begged for more.
It was all I could do to keep myself from cumming, right then and there in the restaurant booth.
Cam was truly enthused-- and oblivious to any misgivings I might have had about the whole situation. But for some reason, a higher sense overcame me. I don’t know why, but fortunately I was able to overlook my jealousy and just enjoy his story and his enthusiasm. And consequently, Cam felt more and more comfortable with confiding in me.
You see, the things he shared with me are things a guy doesn’t ever share with other women. At that moment I came to appreciate the fact that I was a guy. If I wasn’t, there was no way that Cameron and I would be as close as we were. I sat back and watched Cam consume his meal as I ate mine. It was truly an enjoyable morning. In a way that no woman could ever experience, Cam and I shared a truly unique intimacy.
After breakfast Cam needed to buy some sneakers, so we went to the mall-- of course, talking about all sorts of everything the whole time. Just being with Cam made people respect me. They’d look at me in a way that no one ever looked at me when I was alone. There was a kind of awe, or maybe envy, of how this huge Colossus would have me as his friend. Of course, it didn’t help the situation that he’d frequently joke with me, and wrap his huge arm around me in an obvious display of friendly affection.
We shopped for most of the morning, looking at shoes and things other than shoes, and then had lunch. The afternoon was pretty warm and muggy, and I was looking forward to seeing how my air conditioning was coming along, so we headed over to my townhouse to check things out.
There wasn’t a service truck at my place, but I did find a door hanger that had fallen onto my door mat that said the work had been done and that the place would probably be cooled off by about 2:00. It was 1:30 when we got home, so I anxiously opened the door to see if it was at all cool inside.
A refreshing breeze of cooooool air welcomed us as we walked into the entryway.
“Ahhhhhh,” Cam said. “Now this is nice.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, smiling. “Oh, yeah.” The place was already down to 73 degrees, according to the reading on the thermostat. Man, it felt good.
Cameron made himself comfortable on my couch, plopping lazily down. “Dude,” he said, stretching his mammoth arms out, “I think it’s time for a nap.” He closed his eyes and said, “Wake me when it’s time for my mid-afternoon meal.”
The gentle purring of the cool air as it flowed out of the registers sounded so comforting. And having consumed a big lunch myself, I was also in the mood for a little nap. I shuffled through the warranty and instruction manuals that the air conditioning guy had left me, and sat my tired body down in my recliner, pushing it all the way back and closing my eyes.
My feet, as the chair extended back, ended up being not far from Cam. He opened one eye and surmised my position and slowly moved one arm outward. His hand landed on my calf, and he squeezed it gently, and then just left it there. He just left it there!
Oh, shit. My heart began to race, and I knew immediately that I was going to get no sleep at this nap time. He rubbed my leg just a bit, but most of the time he just left his hand there. It was so cool! I made sure to keep my leg very still, if not actually moved a tad closer to Cam, to let him know that I was totally okay with his hand on me like that.
Totally okay.
• • • • •
It was only about an hour nap, but it was just right. That is, for Cam, anyway. Actually, after the initial excitement of Cam’s touch on my leg wore off, I did slip into a light sleep for maybe fifteen minutes. Then Cam woke up, and so did I.
He stretched his rippling arms. “Ohhhhh. You get to sleep, dude?” he asked.
“Yeah. That was nice,” I replied.
Cam checked his watch. “I need to get in a workout today. You have any plans?”
“Naw,” I said. “I can do some computer work if I have to, but there’s nothing pressing. What are you doing this evening?”
Cam smiled. “Maya is coming over.”
“Maya?”
“The waitress,” he said. “I’m making salmon on the barbecue.”
My stomach tightened with that all-to-familiar twinge of jealousy. Man, how I wished I was the one who would be spending the evening with him, enjoying his attentions. “I bet that’s not the only thing you’ll be making, dude.”
Cam’s big grinned turned into a chuckle. “Fuckin’ A.” He sat up on the couch. “Hey, you want to come over to my place right now and watch me work my pecs?”
“At your place?” I asked. “I thought you work out at a gym.”
“Most of the time. But when I go real heavy on chest I use the weights I set up in my garage. The ones at the gym don’t go heavy enough.”
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “They don’t go heavy enough?”
“Yeah. I told you, dude, I’m on the high end of the curve.”
“I thought that was academically.”
Cam looked down at his arms and torso. “You don’t think it might be physically, too?” He looked up at me and flashed that unbeatable grin, dimples and all.
“Suppose so,” I relented, smiling.
“Let’s get to it then, man,” Cameron said, standing. “But I have to swear you to secrecy. No telling anyone about the weights I use. I learned years ago that I don’t want to be in the circus. That’s another reason I don’t do bench at the gym. It kind of freaks the other guys out when they see the weight I use. I don’t want the headache of fame, man.”
I scratched my head. “Well, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, but, yeah, I won’t tell anyone.”
• • • • •
Cam’s apartment complex had covered parking for all of the residents, and then some of the tenants rented out detached garage units as well. Most used them for storage, but Cam used his for his mini gym. It was basically just a bench and the accompanying bars and disks of weight. But Cam’s bench looked bigger and more solid than most I had seen at my gym. The disks of weight on his weight stands varied, but he had quite a number of the 100 pound plates. Sure, there were plenty of the standard 45 pound plates, and a lot of the 25’s and smaller; but there must have been eight or ten of the 100 pound plates-- something you definitely didn’t see at any gym I had ever been to. I mean, sure, maybe you’d see two or maybe four of them, but never this many 100’s.
“Shit, it’s hot in here,” I said, wiping my brow.
Cam threw me a bottle of cold water out of the fridge he kept in the corner. “Yeah, no sissy air conditioning out here in the garage, dude. Separates the men from the boys.” He opened his own water and chugged it down, hefting that huge specimen of an arm.
He finished his water and took off his muscle shirt, and then walked over to one of the racks that held the disks. “Let’s start with 225 to warm up,” he said. He pulled two 45’s off the post and I did likewise on my side. Well, actually, I had to do one at a time, but you get the idea.
It suddenly struck me that I was now, for the first time, going to get to watch Cam’s muscles in action. As the realization hit me, I started to get erect. I looked at Cam as he pushed the weights onto the barbell. Fuck, his muscles were so big! And he was so insanely ripped!
Cameron laid down on the bench and extended his arms outward, letting them stretch out his pecs. He took in a few deep breaths, and then easily lifted the bar off the rack. The bar lowered quickly, and it raised just as fast. One-- two-- three-- It was probably one rep per second-- really fast. He did it with ease; made it look like there were feathers on the end of the bar instead of twin sets of 45’s.
“You want me to stand above you-- to spot?” I asked.
Without missing a beat, Cam kind of chuckled out loud as he pumped the bar up and down. “Naw, I think I can handle it,” he smiled.
Stupid. I thought.
I didn’t bother to count the reps, but he just kept going and going.
Finally, he stopped-- never slowing down a bit from first rep to last. He sat up.
“How many was that?” I asked.
“Dunno,” he said. “It was just a warm-up. I just go for awhile.” He thought for a second. “Maybe 30. Forty. I don’t know.”
He stood up and grabbed another 45, motioning for me to do the same, and we slid them on each end of the bar. He sat down, then laid down, then placed his big hands on the bar again and started lifting and lowering-- just as quickly as he had done with 90 pounds less weight.
This time, I made sure to count the reps.
Again, he did his whole set without slowing down at all. When he racked the bar, I said, “Twenty-three!”
“Huh,” he said sitting up. “Sounds good to me.”
“Holy fuck, man!” I exclaimed. “You just did a warm-up set of 23 reps at 315 pounds! That’s insane!”
A slight smirk crossed his face and he said, “Oh shit. I can tell you’re going to have a difficult time with this. I’m just warming up, dude. You’re going to have to do less exclaiming, and more watching, man. Okay?”
“But...”
“No ‘buts’” he said. “And no blabbing to others either. Remember?”
“Yeah,” I acquiesced.
He stood up and moved to the weights again. “Let’s get rid of these 45’s now and throw on some 100’s.”
I dutifully removed the three plates from my end of the bar, as Cam did the same on his end. “Let’s put two plates on each end,” he said. “With the bar, that’ll be 445 pounds.”
I made a concerted effort to hide my awe, and pulled the first 100 pound plate from the rack. Trying to look like I was handling it as easily as Cam was handling his, I slid it onto the bar, and then did the same with the second one. Cameron tossed me a clamp and we both secured the plates on each end.
He laid back down on the bench. “Okay; last warm-up set,” he said as he placed his hands on the bar.
“Warm-up set? Four hundred forty-fi--”
“Less talk, more watch. Remember?” he interrupted.
I closed my mouth.
He wrapped his hands around the bar and lifted it up. He lowered it, but it wasn’t quite as fast as his previous sets. Although, considering most serious bench pressers would probably be very satisfied with doing only one rep of 445, he seemed to lift and lower the bar with smoothness and ease. He stopped at ten reps-- not because he necessarily got tired, but it seemed to me that he stopped then just because it was a good round number to stop at.
His muscles were getting a pump now. I hadn’t really imagined that he could get any bigger, or more vascular, or more defined; but he certainly was. The blood engorged his muscles and my cock was settling into a nice stiff position under my pants.
“Let’s put another 100 on each side, and then slide a 45 on after that,” he said, standing.
I quickly did the math in my head-- I guess I’m just anal that way. Holy fuckin’ mother of mary! That’s 735 pounds! “You gotta be shittin’ me!” I said.
Cam flashed me that “Less talk, more watch,” look, but I couldn’t help it.
“Dude,” I continued, “the world record for a raw bench lift is only-- what-- 740 or something! And you’re going to do 735 right here-- here in your garage?”
Cameron was busy grabbing his 100 pound disk to add to the bar. Without even looking up at me, he said, “For reps, too, man.”
“You’re shittin’ me man. That’s impossible!”
Cam turned around toward me and slid the disk onto the bar. “You want to argue with me about it?” He looked down at his torso and then did a quick most-muscular, finishing off with his trademark dimple-cheek smile.
All I could do was blink my eyes.
“And correction, dude,” he said, grabbing his 45 disk. “The world record is quite a bit more than 740 raw.” With that, he bent one arm and tightened it, flexing his biceps muscle into a cantaloupe-sized ball. It split into two distinct mounds-- veins running all the hell over it. “It’s just not official.”
“I-- I think I need to sit down,” I said, leaning against the bar.
Cam relaxed his arm and laughed. “Can you put on that last 45 first please?” He pointed to the disk behind me, and I dutifully obeyed.
I did have to steady myself against the wall while he lifted, though. With each slow raising and lowering of the bar, the heavy weights bumped against each other, making the high-pitched clanking sound that seemed so powerful. The weights were so heavy on each end of the bar that they made it bend; and when he’d get all the way to the top of his rep, or when the bar would go all the way down to the bottom of the rep and barely touch his swelling pectorals, the bar would bend and bounce. Just seeing the weight make that bar bend, under his total control and domination-- it made my penis throb.
He racked the bar after doing eight slow reps. I felt weak in the knees. He sat up, his upper body swollen with power. “Okay, now for the real weight,” he smiled.
He slid off the 45’s-- by this time he seemed resigned to the fact that I was going to be of no use to him from here on out-- and slid on another 100 in their place. The weight was now at 845 pounds.
“Uh-- Do you... you need a spot?” I said.
He sat there, mentally preparing for the lift, taking deliberate breaths. He looked up at me and smiled. “You think you’d be any good at handling almost half a ton if I lost it?” His smile turned into a full-fledge grin. “I’m okay, man. You just watch.”
I couldn’t respond.
“Tell you what, though,” he said, as an idea seemed to pop into his head. “It’s damn hot in here, dude. I think I’m going to lose these shorts, if you don’t mind.” Without waiting to see if I did mind, he stood up and pulled down his short pants, exposing his boxers. He looked down at his super-body and examined it, checking himself out, and seeming somewhat pleased with what he found.
Now, I don’t know about you, but a well-built man in boxers is one of the most erotic turn-ons I could ever imagine. And Cameron, being the most well-built man you could ever imagine, made the scene totally unbearable. I moaned, “Oh shit, man. Don’t do this to me.”
Cameron looked up at me and grinned. “Don’t like the boxers?”
I could feel the precum dribble out of my slit like honey being squeezed out of one of those plastic honey bears.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Cam said, continuing his imaginary conversation with me. “They’ll just probably get in the way too.” And with that, he slowly pulled at them, making sure to look up at me for maximum effect. They protested greatly when they got down to his gigantic quadriceps, but his will eventually won out. The boxers fell to the floor and Cam stepped out of them, totally naked. “You okay with this?” he asked sheepishly?
Of course I couldn’t respond.
“Come here.” His eyes pierced me.
I couldn’t move, for fear I’d explode.
“Come here, man,” he said again, gently. He sat down, to get on my level, and motioned with one hand for me to come.
I finally moved toward him, stopping right in front of him. He placed his hands on my hips and told me to stand right there, at the base of the bench, while he lifted. His legs were splayed on either side of me, and yes, that insanely huge, sensual throbbing organ of his lazily nuzzled itself between his quads-- quads that were so vascular, they would have made Rand McNally jealous. I was simply blown away by the size of his legs! Un. Fucking. Believable.
He obviously knew what he was doing to me. I mean, here I was staring right at the biggest throbbing piece of manmeat on the planet, and he was literally spreading his legs for me.
Cam gently laid back and positioned his hands in a wide grip on the bar.
The scene before me-- Cameron’s totally nude body, with all of its ‘attributes’ ready to lift more weight than any other man could lift-- I really was getting weak. Never in a million years, would I have been able to imagine a scene like this. And this wasn’t my imagination!
Cam’s body rested as he finalized his grip. His tiny waistline expanded and contracted quite visibly as he took deep breaths. It looked so hot!
Finally, he pressed up on the bar. It argued with his massive arms. His arms pressed harder. The bar fought back even more. Cam loudly pushed the air out of his lungs. His gargantuan arms flexed harder-- they wouldn’t relent. His pecs grew and hardened into twin peaks of granite. And finally, the bar lost the battle. He raised it off the rack and held it there, each end bobbing as he fought to steady it and keep it level.
His entire body was tight. His legs jockeyed for the best position.
Then-- it was time. His arms bent, and he lowered the weight. As the bar moved lower, it was obvious that he was in total control. Despite the unbelievable amount of weight, Cameron was the boss.
The bar touched his pecs, and he began to raise it. Again, his body tightened anew, and every rippling sinew, every mound of muscle, every popping vein seemed to scream with power. His arms thickened even more, if that is possible. The bar moved higher. Slowly. Higher.
Now his whole body seemed to throb with energy; as if his heartbeat was propelling the bar upward. His rhythmic advances seemed to ratchet the bar upward with every beat of his pulse.
Or was it my pulse...
It was at this point I realized that the rhythm I was sensing was my own orgasm. As Cameron pushed the bar ever higher, I began to feel the warm wetness in my short pants-- wetness that had been rushing into my briefs for many seconds, but was only now entering into my awareness. As the awareness flooded my mind, I jerked with a hard convulsion. A powerful burst of cum erupted into my underwear and I lost all control of myself.
And I didn’t even care.
Dizziness, accompanied by euphoric ejaculations, engulfed me. I found myself holding onto Cam’s quad with my right hand. Then, my left hand grabbed his other one. And my palms were met with the warmest, hardest, veiniest mass of muscle they had ever encountered.
Unfazed with my system-wide failure, Cameron-- perhaps spurred on by the touch of my hands on his legs-- began his second rep.
Oh god-- he’s lifting 845 pounds, for reps!
I fell to my knees. At my face was Cameron’s crotch-- his over-developed penis and testicles were only inches away, and the surrounding mass of leg muscles completely overwhelmed my vision.
The weight went down, and then up again. I’m not sure if I temporarily lost consciousness or not, but the intensity of my orgasm, combined with the truly unique sensual experience of being surrounded by Cameron’s legs with his dick and balls right there, made me lose track of time, and just about everything else in the universe.
Somewhere-- somehow-- I became aware of the fact that Cameron was now sitting up, breathing very heavily, sweating profusely, and looking down at me. My hands were still on his upper legs, but now my whole forearm also rested on them as well.
I was weak.
He was strong.
Between heavy breaths, Cam smiled down at me. He opened a new bottle of water and took a drink, then smiled again and he continued to recover from his inhuman display of strength. “You okay?” he said, lifting his bottle for another drink.
“Oh god,” I whimpered.
With all the sarcasm of a master satirist, he looked down at how close I was to his cock and nuts, and said, “You plannin’ on servicing me dude? ‘Cuz I gotta tell ya’ I’m saving myself for Maya, later tonight.” Another perfectly-timed drink of water for effect, and I became blown away at his ability to joke at this-- and his unreal confidence in this otherwise “awkward” situation.
Thoroughly embarrassed, I stood up, still steadying myself on Cam’s strong legs. “Sorry, man. Sorry.” I wiped the sweat from my brow.
Cam didn’t move; he sat there, quite comfortable with himself, thank-you-very-much. He looked at my shorts. “Seems you have a habit of shooting that thing off at the most inopportune times, dude.” His grin let me know everything was alright. Fuck, I was loving this guy. “You do this a lot?” A momentary pause-- “...or do you think it might have something to do with me...” he chided.
I rolled my eyes at the obviousness of his sarcastic question.
“Here,” he said. I was still standing right in front of him, at the end of the bench, his legs still spread wide on either side of me. “Let me help you with that,” he smiled.
Cameron un-did my belt and unzipped my pants. I put up no resistance. But when he slipped his big hand inside the elastic of my brief, and his fingers began to get soaked by my cum, I jumped involuntarily. Cam paused, and seeing that I was okay, resumed his descent into my pants. Soon, his whole hand was sloshing around my slippery cock and balls, and I was getting hard again.
“Hmmm,” Cam said. “I think there might be some more inside this thing,” he said, squeezing my cock gently. “Let’s see.” He pulled my briefs down to my knees, exposing all of me, in all of my sloppy, wet glory, and he examined my penis as it began to throb back to full erection at the touch of his strong, yet gentle fingers.
Slowly, he stroked me.
Softly.
Cam smiled just a bit. Not a big grin; but a knowing, gentle, “let me help you with this” kind of smile.
God he had some kind of touch. His stroking was long and slow.
So slow. So tender.
Of course it didn’t take but a minute before I was once again spewing long ropes of cum into the air. At first they splashed all over Cameron’s bare upper body, slithering down his rippling muscles like I wished I could have done. But quickly, Cam leaned forward and gently closed his lips around my cock head and began to drink in my milky essence. He moved up and down my pulsing shaft, pulling my cum into his mouth. His dimples indented with each effort. This, of course, only served to intensify my orgasm, and I cried in ecstasy, grabbing his head with my hands to steady myself.
As the orgasm subsided, Cam withdrew his lips from my cock, and stood up. As he stood, he lifted me up. Mind you, I wasn’t totally done ejaculating. He picked me up as he had before, when he carried me to his bed, and he began kissing me. Oh fuuuuck, he was a great kisser.
He had saved some of my cum in his mouth, and now he offered it to me with his tongue, and we both swished my warm milk back and forth between our mouths, wrapping our tongues around each others’ and swimming them in the creamy, sweet jizz.
I squirted a volley up onto Cameron’s shoulder and arm, and that was the end of my orgasm.
Yet he still held me, and we kissed.
And kissed.
“I didn’t get to finish my workout,” he said, pulling his face from mine. As he said the words, his diction was muffled by the semen he still had in his mouth.
“Who said you have to stop?” I asked, dreamily looking up into his eyes.
He lowered me, and stood me up. “Naw. Kind of lost the mindset,” he said. “Got a little distracted, I guess.”
“Sorry,” I said. I shuffled my feet around, wondering what to do next. I looked at the weights. “So, what’s your max? You ever use a lifting shirt?”
“Never used a shirt, dude,” he smiled. “Don’t need one.”
“So what’s your raw max?”
He smiled, paused, and said, “Let’s just say my raw max is more than the record with a shirt.”
And I believed him.
“Uh-- you want me to help you take the plates off the bar?”
Cameron looked over at the enormous weight he had just pressed. “Naw. Let’s leave them on.” He turned his head back to me and said, “Maya’s coming over later tonight.”
— SRS
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