#133656 - . Her fingers pushed into his pants and pulled out his balls and began fondling them, rolling them in her hand. Suzanne had a passing mental image of Donald's mother, seated in her rundown apartment on Forest Avenue, her hair hanging in rat-tails, her coarse features devoid of makeup, and her breasts swinging obscenely under her cotton shift, while her bare feet rested on the torn linoleum rug, and the woman's drawling Kentucky accents echoed in her ears .
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