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Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6 Tyler Texas 1959 mfmf
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From TxM6 Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction Novel
http://www.taximurders.com/enfer
TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only.
Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher
0933xTexas02371959.htm
JHW: Walkabouts
"The Doctor's Daughters"
Bucolic ain't just pastoral; Naturally
Sex wins.
Tyler, Texas: Wednesday, August 26, 1959
"Take off your bra," Debra said to her older sister Allison.
"Show them your knobs."
I won. You lost. Strip poker. At sixteen I played Innocent
games. No reluctant Baptist girls obsessively thinking about
boy's and things but pretending to not care. A by-product
myself of a good fuck between a Jewish/Catholic Girl and a
Congregational Minister's son, these Jewish girls were the
real thing, I remember thinking. No Confession and dirty
sins, no need to worry about being damned for touching a
Christian girl, I fell in love with the older girl Allison
who was fifteen. Her sister, Debra, twelve liked to tease,
but seemed easier with it. Allison, more shy than Debra
confessed she had a thing for a neighbor boy Johnny, 17, who
had a "Papa cock," as the girls bragged.
Curious phrase, "Papa cock" for a girl so young. Wonder what
she had been doing with Papa. Years later, it seemed both
girls had a healthy curiosity about sex. At the time, didn't
even consider the words incest. I should have or child
molestation. I had been molested myself, but children move on
to be adults and find the old doors and usual explanations
tiresome. Now, years later, wondering about those girls, and
that boy, and I how I had gained by it all, I realized that
there had been nothing perverted about any of it. Father and
mother of these girls were probably perfect citizens, and if
they weren't, they would have been part of at least forty
percent of all adults who molest children either physically
or sexually. Nothing has changed in forty years, except we
now at least recognize that human kind is not always nice. We
have learned to lie better.
I am getting ahead of my story. That last scene happened at
the end of my Tyler summer that "innocent", brash, and hot,
and then wet and cool.
It was a simpler green, and lazy fishing with gentle Uncle,
Aunt, and passing children. I lived the white boy holiday in
the daily thunder storm.
All during day the heat grew; at night, then it seemed to
cool, but with the constant humidity, the air was just
catching its breath.
On Sunday we went to Church. Sometimes revivals, but I was a
Catholic American Jewish boy in a Protestant world and
grandma told me not to be saved unless I really meant it and
would be able to go to a "real church" when I got home.
She said you come from a line of barn storming Iowa
preachers. You're kin to Jefferson and Justice Marshall.
You're a good boy and you don't lie about God, you hear. To
prove my rank, she showed me the silver spoon that actually
bore that famous family Marshall crest.
After her death many years later, I received that spoon and
it helped bring me closer to knowing myself.
I wondered then as a boy, if famous men had big peckers as I
heard an Uncle say once at a famous gathering of the clans in
New Jersey.
II.
At 16 years sex was everywhere for me. I breathed it, but
just barely could give it name. I was a virgin almost. Had a
brief fling with a colored maid named Carla before I met
Alison and Debra. I had had assorted girlfriends who let me
feel them up, touch their thing or play with mine.
On the other hand, from books, some pornographic, I knew
everything.
I was also more informed than most of the kids my age. I had
read all the doctor books, and found pictures myself.
They were not the usual pin up shots, but pictures of my
mother and my father doing it with some neighbors. Other
pictures of other folks showed men sucking pussy and girls
sucking dicks. There were even some pictures of fucking. I
was not the innocent child. I knew and read. Peyton Place
comes to mind now, and when I was home, before Texas I used a
vacuum cleaner hose on my cock making my body jump. I only
did it once. Later, after this summer I did it many times
more and searched out greater adventures.
Now, it was more than simply praying, eating great food,
thinking of tits, or swallowing butter cookies, where I
melted at the club pool, telling "shit against the fan jokes"
to the boy friends of my "young lady" teenage cousins.
"I mortified them," they said, but little did they know the
whole time at the pool I wandered near the ladders coming up
from the pool to spy a tit or taste of butt. I spied on them
with their boy friends when they kissed good night. I swear I
saw one of them making out, being felt up as it was called
then, but I might have been dreaming about the book I found
that described the evils of sex so well, it made me want to
do it.
Above and beyond all of this, I didn't really know what it
all meant. I did say the summer was innocent.
Passing time, walking the colored neighborhood downtown, I
watched everything grow and much of it seemed out of place,
but I didn't care. I was on an adventured as I called it. At
times Grandma thought I was not homesick, but I missed
nothing in New Jersey except Paramus bathing beach. I felt as
if the Texas heat had swallowed, and then coughed my heart
back when l mowed the lawn and cut the electric cord the
first time.
I felt frizzed after that, my grandmother was angry, but then
laughed when she saw I was not hurt. We always passed the
time playing Canasta and farting. We had contests to see who
can let the biggest one go.
Life passed, the days narrowed, as they say, and how the
details of the street were vague, except for those two silly
girls, OK, not silly, really, I searched for them as they
played tag, Allison shaking her shoulders, dancing off the
porch of her house, into the breeze "and out the frog's
mouth," she sang. I sneezed watching her dance on one foot
her shorts caught in the cleft of her ass. Her "bubbies," as
I called them, confined to a bra still shook like waves held
in place. I wondered about the song she sang but watching her
tits so hard, feeling her smile as I watched, not knowing she
knew I was watching, I was embarrassed and never ask her what
the frog's mouth meant although years later I speculated
about it, and came up with quite a rare XXX rating movie that
compared to "Deep Throat."
The heat pressed harder, deeper than I had ever known.
Oppressive humidity and daily thunder storms for relief.
Now at the end of the summer, not really bored, I longed for
playing football back in New Jersey, and I believed and I was
right that was the best way to get really laid. I needed to
get back home, and the last week of August dragged. I didn't
want to miss those two a day practices that made you melt
inside because you sucked stones instead of water.
Except for the hint of new sex with Carla, I wanted the
seasons to turn, but I knew there were new things here in
Texas that I had longed to feel.
Allison's tits did not compare to Carla's, that dear Negro
maid of my fantasies, but Allison was there shifting back and
forth on one foot wearing nothing underneath her tee shirt.
She was young and easy and I could be with her and no one
would think it strange. I knew if I just could reach long
enough, I could seize her offering breasts and own her body
like it were mine.
A week after I cut the cord the first time, I sliced the
mower cord again in two places.
Grandma wasn't home. She had told me not to mow anymore. I
did it because I wanted something to do, and to show her.
I screamed when I cut the cord, "Fuck No," like I heard this
old scoutmaster do when he almost chopped his foot off with
an axe.
I didn't know the neighbor girls, Debra, 12 and Allison
almost 15 had watched my clumsy grass cutting antics from the
porch of their house with an older neighborhood guy Johnny
who at 17 seemed more a man than a boy.
Debra laughed at my upset, and eagerly ran up to where I had
been working to look at the shattered power cord. The other,
Allison followed her sister. They mocked but then they called
Johnny over and he helped me fix the cord.
I didn't give a hoot for him until he had actually fixed it
showing me how to do it if it happened again.
He pushed it testing it, and I let him do half the yard
before he quit. I had seen the guy around the neighborhood,
always driving his car too fast around the corners or with a
buddy in the front seat playing the fool.
I have to admit I didn't take credit for fixing the cord, and
I told grandma about what had happened and she said that
Peters boy (Johnny) is good for you. You need an older
brother to show you things. I sure wished you lived down here
all the time, but you mother never let you and your dad is
off chasing skirts and getting drunk like a teenager. I knew
it was true so I didn't mind what she said. I was surprised
she had said it about her own son.
Nothing more happened that day and grandma wasn't mad, and
Johnny who seemed to have taken an interest surprised me by
asked me to come over and help him work on the '49 Chevy.
After a few days of grime and grease, Johnny found out that I
knew more than he did about girls and how their bodies
worked. He taught me more about cars than I ever knew, and I
worked hard with him.
Later that next week, when it was too hot to work in the
afternoon, Johnny confessed that he and Allison and Debra
played naked games together and did it.
He told more when we were playing what he had called "Texas
pocket pool" which meant we looked at his daddies collection
of studio cheesecake and jerked off in our pants.
I told Johnny I had seen pictures of people fucking and I
asked him if that is what he did. He told me he liked Debra
more, because she was cuter and seemed fearless, but he
needed another guy for Allison, and he asked if I would come
with him next time. He told me that Allison thought I was
cute, and if I would come over and play with her that would
make it easier for him to go with the sister. He asked if I
would help a buddy out treating me like I was almost a
brother. Maybe grandma was right.
I was sixteen and he was a much older seventeen. I suspect my
hormones hadn't quite caught up.
Come on, Sisters! I didn't believe him. "Stop the bullshit,
Johnny."
Their father's an eye Doctor, Johnny explained. "They're not
Christians so they don't care about sex like the bullshit
girls you meet at Sunday School. Trust me I did them."
Next day, we knocked on the back door and the maid let us in.
The girls were giggling, and the maid said, I don't know if I
should do this, I have my afternoon off today, and I promised
your mama. She gave in when Allison smiled.
Inside, Johnny asked for a beer, and Allison snuck one in
from the kitchen bring three others. We drank and Johnny
smoked. The girls wore just a tee shirt and shorts.
Debra got the cards out and said the game is strip poker.
"Are you all in?"
Debra was the first to lose. Quickly, just like that she
pulled her pants down and up giggling. "What a fucken tease,
Johnny said. The real game had started just like that.
Debra then ran into the bathroom saying she had to pee.
Allison told us she had no idea what her sister planned. When
Debra came out she was wearing her mother's silk nightgown
and fancy shoes.
Johnny laughed and Allison told her to stop acting like a
baby. Caught up in the craze, and feeling my second beer,
trying to keep up with Johnny, I pulled my pants down and up
just as fast as she did when I lost.
"Another fucken tease," Johnny said. "When are we gonna stop
the bullshit."
"Why do you care if Henry's a tease Johnny," Debra mocked.
Johnny pulled his pants down and kept them down. He stuck
out, but I almost matched him. Debra made us stand next to
each other so she could measure taking out a tape measure she
ran to find in the maid's sewing box. She pushed our cocks
together so they touched and measure them both at once. It
looked like she was tying us with a ribbon. It felt strange
when I got harder while she measured just like it had for
Carla.
Debra was not impressed with either of us. She looked at me
close and laughed, compared me to Johnny who stuck out
further, and said, smirking, "don't worry, it'll grow up,"
and she patted it watching it bounce.
Her easy manner helped us relax and I took my shirt off and
was completely naked. Johnny did the same and Allison pulled
her shirt off but hesitated about her bra and panties.
Looking at Allison the only one still half dressed I tried to
imagine her completely naked. When Johnny, who was thinking
the same think, asked her "to do it," she pulled back unsure
almost shy.
"Take off your bra," Debra told Allison. "Show them your
knobs. Want me to help you."
"Yes, turning her back, Debra unsnapped Allison while Johnny
and I watched. I don't think I had seen anything so beautiful
as those soft, round innocent breasts with slight nipples.
"God, they are great," I said aloud and Allison and Debra
heard me.
"Not God, -- Allison," Debra said. She rubs them with cream
every night and makes them tingle when she rubs her self off.
Once she was so proud of them she walked outside in the back
yard at 3 AM topless and ran up to Johnny's window in the
garage where he slept. He wasn't there that night but she
loved shaking them in the air, she told me, and I with just a
thimble joined her.
"You do too," angry, she glared at her sister. You rub them
with daddy's soap and after shave. Yuck."
Still, Allison refused to take her pants off pulling them up
when Debra had gotten one side down but got away when Johnny
played with his log and we watched him unroll it like a great
water snake, as he called it.
I couldn't help notice that his cock head was different than
mine. I knew of men who were not circumcised, but I had never
seen one. When I asked about it, Debra said "that's because
he is not Jewish like you Henry. All Jewish boys get
circumcised, dummy."
"I am not Jewish. I am Catholic," I whispered.
"I am glad, I don't like Jewish boys," Allison said. They are
too serious all the time.
I looked closely at Johnny's cock until he pulled away asking
if I was queer. I said no, but that was not the first time I
felt uncomfortable with that word around him.
Allison noticing my distress kissed me, saying that she
didn't like people who called people names. I have no idea
why Allison picked me that day, but I heard Debra say that it
was "my turn with Johnny," and I besides I had heard Allison
tell Debra that she liked me because I seem to know a lot.
"He's smart," Allison said.
We got dressed and undressed, hugged and kissed, played
cards, and I felt Allison's knobs, got increasingly, pushed
and prodded by Debra who managed to play with my cock and
Johnny's at the same time.
Allison screamed at her to let go, and she said no, but
did. I did it all. I followed Johnny who was then looking
closely, fervently at that silken lips Debra had brazenly
opened. She had sparse dark hair, but I remember she looked
like a little girl except her lips were fatter and she was
open. That was the first time I saw the "black hole" in a
woman's sex. It drew me there and I would worship Allison as
my first conquest although there had been others before her.
While we rough housed, She climbed over Debra and I could see
her nipples were hard and she was touching them, pinching
them. Catching her under her legs so she wouldn't fall, I
felt it letting my hand explore the outer lips and felt her
button what I called it then. Innocently, I said, "Carla my
other adventure that summer had one of those I said. She
called it her tickler."
Debra corrected me, saying it is called "a clitoris" or a
"clit", "if you must know, and I rub it every day so it gets
big like the ones in my father's medical books."
I told her. I read the same books.
When I said that Allison came up and leaned over all of us,
and whisper that she had one too, and if I would forget about
Debra she would show me, hitting me with a small pillow and
laughing as we all fell together gathering almost as if we
were inside a human hive.
I pulled Allison down, and told her to show me. She did,
revealed the inside of things. It all looked different than
the books but the same. It was different also with Clara as I
did not see much as Carla insisted on the dark. Amazed I
marveled to Allison how her petals opened as she pulled the
crease apart opening the pink center. They rise up like a
fluted wave, I remembered thinking. I always knew the words
for things, even then, and when I touched her leaves I feel
the ordinary apple, and I remember this clearly, saying, as I
rubbed the face of her sex gently exploring myself inside
her.
Just as I stopped touching, Allison squealed yes and then
kissed me like I had never been kissed. All tongue and lips I
felt as if I were being held under water, but instead of
fearing suffocation, I found that I could breathe and all the
world seemed spectacular.
When I helped her up, always taught to be the gentleman by
those same god fearing Christians who mocked the Jews and
Niggers as they called them openly, I held my hands out to
her, and we innocently mixed more than soul. We had actually
done nothing, but explore the first day of Adam's words as we
leaned against the wall kissing and tasting the other's moist
skin and freckles. More would have happened I always imagined
later when we had satisfied our curiosity not just about sex
but each other.
With the black maid Carla, who was an adult, from another
world, as I saw it then, what we did in retrospect seemed
more a selfish game that only Carla could win or lose. Sure,
she had taught me a few things, but I was a boy to her. She
kept the passion for herself, share it only from the outside,
and didn't imagine I would know the difference. With Allison
to my surprise I discovered that sex and its infinite
imagination engenders intimacy and communion. What a better
word than Eucharist I thought years later after Vatican II
when the Catholic world revolted for a short time only to
revert to a more subtle discrimination.
Moving away from the window, Allison danced down the hallway
twirling and when she came back, she held her night gown. "I
want to wear this with you," she said. "I want to be
beautiful and I have dreamed each night that I would meet a
boy I could share touch."
Standing there, three feet away, legs together, she looked
like the young women you saw in the art books and in the
Sears catalogue. Her breasts were small but round and she had
the softest down rising up the middle of her cleft that I
loved to brush gently with my fingertips.
Years later, a lifetime later, when I met a woman with pubic
hair like Allison I would immediately do the same thing. Not
one woman minded. They all loved it.
Slightly impatient, I moved towards her but she backed away
a step. "I really want to put this on."
I helped her with the top but she threw the bottom on the
couch when she felt my hand holding her between her legs. I
touched her pink slit and she looked me straight in the eyes,
not away like before, and asked wordlessly, "what's next?"
I was caught in my own unspoken lie. I had no idea, but
expecting her to know, I didn't worry. She giggled when I
told her the truth and kissed me and said, "I don't know
either but I like the kissing."
When I touched her thighs and legs while kissing, she closed
her eyes, swooned, clutched, and tighten, released pressing
her fingers into my arms marking them, drawing lines in my
sunburn and tan.
"That feels too good," she said, and pushed away again. "I
might want too much more. I can't do that. I am afraid I will
get . . . my sister is different she wants one."
I didn't let her continue. I kissed her silent, and said we
can do other things, but my heart fell when I said it knowing
I was promising to not know her and have her be my first.
Years later, I realized when I said it that I loved the feel
of her silken nightgown in my hands and she felt so good
happy that I didn't want her to be unhappy.
Gathering it up in my arms, I touched her belly and felt her
mound covering it with my hand, crooking a finger inside,
like I had seen in those photos of my father and mother. I
remembered them and used them as my guide. I confessed again
to her that I had down much more that she could have expected
and knew something she would really like. She told me never
mind and kissed me harder. We will do it like the great
books, the ones we both love. I will be Emma and you can be
the Pierre or Sir Lawrence.
Telling her about Carla, and how "she made me shoot a
little," she said I did good for my age."
With that, Allison touched my balls, asking why they were so
small, and I had no answers all I could hear were Debra and
Johnny humping body-to-body.
Looking over Allison's shoulder I could see Johnny on top of
Debra, her legs rapped around his ass.
"Did you do it like that," Allison asked, turning and
pointing to her sister. "No, he is not kissing her thing. She
taught me how to do that."
"Did Carla stink," Allison asked.
"No, smelled like clean skin like you."
"You are fresh Henry Whitman. I don't know what I want to
say," pretending to be angry.
"No, I meant it smelled good."
How could a nigger smell good?
"She did," I said. She smelled like almonds.
"Maybe, you're right," Henry, "Papa says we have to be nice
to the colored. Have a hard life, my daddy said. I like you
Henry, you're older than you seem. I've done it too, but not
with a boy, she said. I loved it, but it made me feel queer
and I stopped when my cousin moved away. He was almost
thirty and would make me suck it which I didn't mind but when
he shot he tried to choke.
"Ever do it with your sister," I asked.
"No, not really."
"Johnny says you do."
"Yes," Allison confessed shaking her head and telling me that
I would get no more secrets unless I told her mine.
I told her the story about the vacuumed cleaner and the glass
cocktail rods I stuck up my thing.
She stood there waiting eyes closed, and I remembered what
Carla said about a man needing to take what he needs.
Pulling her down to the floor, I lifted her legs up and
apart, and stood there wondering if I could really do it when
she pulled me down by my shoulders, and taking my head rested
it on her belly. "Just do it," she said.
I opened her lips with my mouth like Clara taught gently. I
licked away from her lips and teased with kisses, finally
letting my mouth push the hood back exposing her button, I
did it with the softest touch possible remembering Clara. She
said do it easy but take it in your mouth like you are a man
and not afraid. Clara said "I want to feel your lips and
maybe your teeth and what this colored woman has taught
you."
Allison stopped me at first, said that is too much, too hard,
and I softened but insisted and with my first full lick she
pushed my head harder into her opening her legs full,
gasping, and at that moment I pulled up and watched Johnny
pull out of Debra just as he shot all over her legs. Debra
who seemed quite used to the whole screamed at him, "why did
you do that. I wanted you to do it for real."
Ignoring Debra who was still mad at Johnny I explored
Allison lips, sucking harder and harder, feeling her hands in
my ears, pulling my hair, shaking her head, closing her eyes
tighter and then screaming noting intelligible but a sound
that meant she had started to roll under me feeling my mouth
tighter, I refused to let go, and with a final suck, she
almost stopped breathing, and when I tried to stop, she
pushed my head closer, "don't you stop, no, you can't."
Afterwards, half an hour or so later, she touched me,
explored my cock and watched it explode. She smiled not at
me, but my cock, ringing its head with her hands, rubbing
what seemed like a lake of stuff on her lips and face. She
said, "I used to do this for my cousin, you know the man who
I sucked off twice a week and more when I babysat. I would
suck after he did it and he would groan and try to make me
stop but I held on. it was my revenge."
Fascinated by her pubic hair, I remember combing it with my
fingers. Allison almost shy, but not really, turned her head
away while I licked and touched, but wouldn't let me try to
do what Johnny did to Allison. There was not time left, and
we had to go. Her mother would be back from the pool and we
would get caught.
I listened but didn't stop looking, and Allison liked it, and
as long as I was content, she let me explore looking at me in
the same way.
Johnny told me later that he liked Debra better, as she let
him do it longer. He said, "Allison didn't like to have it
inside her. Thinks she might get a kid, and the younger one
just wants more than her sister. He said that Allison told
him that she liked you because you are cute and you kissed
her there. Johnny asked me how I could do that, and I told
him that a nigger woman showed me how. He said that explained
it. All them niggers do it that way, and then I wondered may
be that is a better way considering how excited the girls
get. Even Debra when she saw me do it to her sister asked if
I would do it to her, but we had no time, and Johnny kept her
busy.
At the door, leaving my balls behind, Allison said, "come
back tomorrow. Mom and Dad are back in Dallas. The Maid will
do what I tell her to do. Maybe you can do Debra."
Before I could answer, and tell her sure, Allison said, "and
I won't tell Johnny that way we can do it alone with you at
the same time. He does what I say, and so does Debra. She
smells great too, like I do."
I stood there, amazed, knowing how she knew. Allison had held
nothing back. We were both book smart lovers. Our curiosity
and intelligence gave us information few adults accepted. We
met at an important time. We both needed each other. We were
reciprocals, and souls connected.
"What did you do with Debra, I asked her, almost walking out
the door, kissing her face and hands like I had seen in that
great French movie with Maurice. "I kiss it like you did. It
is small, although must be larger now, after what Johnny
did."
"I will, I said, be there.
I left, and Allison walked back into the room, showed me her
tits, and if its possible for a skinny and not shy fifteen
year old, she shook them like the strippers I came to know
much later in my life. "What did you do, I asked her while we
stood on the porch not wanting to end any of it.
"I saw it in a dirty movie. My Daddy's got one. Debra and I
were hiding in the closet, and we watched her shake them at
the men. I wanted to do that once, for a man I liked.
"You like me, I asked. Of course silly, I really do, what do
you think, I am a tramp. Go now," she banged playfully
against my ass. "Get out of here. Have to get Johnny out of
here too. Wait for him outside, OK. Don't want any trouble."
"No," I said to myself. I didn't wait.
Tyler Texas was truly innocent. Can I tell you another lie?.
My grandmother worshipped these rich professional class
neighbors and thought they were God fearing even if they were
Jews, but then again, Henry, she would say, your Grandmother
is Jewish, and I like her.
Complicated lives we lived even back then when people seemed
meaner but were more honest about what they really felt.
The next day, I couldn't believe it. "We're going to Dallas
today," Grandma said. "I have a job there; you can get the
plane for NJ there. I don't have time to travel back and
forth. Say good-bye to your friends today and be home by
noon."
I didn't really want to say good-bye. I had said them and I
didn't want to see Johnny. I was too jealous that he would
inherit both the girls. Years, later, I regretted not kissing
Allison good-bye. I thought about that would have been
imaginary "next time" for years.
I knew if I had said good-bye that day in 1955, Allison would
have kissed me like a man and not a boy. I knew if there had
been that next time I would have fucked her like Johnny did
Debra.
Allison had bragged all summer about how she always kept her
promises. She would have stood up, looked at my face, and
smiled as men and women do when they greet their new lovers,
for at least that first morning.
She could have said, "Henry, I missed you, and kissed me hard
between my cock and lips."
At fifty-seven I create "that next day kiss" over and over
like a porno loop. It became the opening scene of a great but
never produced Hollywood movie, or it would have led to
another life. What if my mother had let me live with my
grandmother in Tyler, Texas. Would I have graduated from
Columbia, City College, wrote novels and poetry. Would I have
been able to write this story today? Maybe I would have
become a rich oil man or a cowboy and broke my neck on a
bucking Ford stock car. Maybe I would have died in Nam
instead of coming back to the world.
More American Adventures in erotica and other works by Sean Farragher:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sean_Farragher/
Sean Farragher
Poetry Site: http://www.farragher.com
TxM6 Sites:
http://www.taximurders.com
http://www.taximurders.com/enfer
http://www.taximurders.com/lcfallon
http://www.taximurders.com/paradisio (forthcoming)
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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