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It took all day for her to cut the grass, leaving her tired, sweaty and exhausted. The crushed metal and burned bits had been removed and the roadway cleared.
She gasped, "Was this what you went through to keep things neat, Tam? One commented to the other, "it looks like the two RVs came together at high speed, and just rammed into each other.
She was not getting fucked now, even though the STD treatments were under way and she'd bought condoms enough for everybody.
The grass of the front and back lawn was growing tall, and, without Tam to cut it, she'd have to do it herself.
Oh, God, I'm so achy and tired." Later, at night, she started to cry a little, as her bed was so damned empty, even if she wasn't having sex with her Tam. Both single occupants were killed instantly." The other officer mentioned, "We were able to get a partial ID of both drivers.
"Damn him," she cried, "just because of all my 'sexing' and my 'special friends,' why did you have to go and walk out on me? Really strange, a man and a woman, apparently not related, but both named Benford." —THE END— you wanted to read, I’ll say the same thing.
Getting out the little mower, she pulled on the cord until her arm ached, but it wouldn't start.
She cried at that memory, "Oh God, what have I done? I'd be pleased to read whatever literary creations you can write on this or a similar topic, under your own screen names ...
Something about her husband getting an STD from Dolores, then passing it on to the wife, who was now her ex-friend. Abruptly she remembered that Tam had, in fact, tried to get her to the clinic for some-such reason, but she'd been too wrapped up in her latest sexing to listen to him, and had forgotten about it.
A second call came in and then a third, both from wives of her 'special friends,'. "Besides," she thought, "Tam hadn't had any sex with me after that time, which I was glad about, so I could concentrate on getting fucked by my friends all the time." She called the clinic and got an immediate appointment.
Waiting about a hundred yards into the little forest, I picked up the rusty-appearing bicycle with its own rusty-appearing trailer.
Packing the duffel bag to the trailer, I peddled off into the sunset, down a little dirt path, thinking happily that, with the cash in my 'bug-out' bag, I'd be ATM free for up to a year.