Sterling Rod's 'Twilight Zone of Sex'

GameMistress

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You're travelling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead - your next stop, the Twilight Zone… of Sex!

Arnie was sitting up in his apartment, enjoying his usual pursuits – watching TV and looking out the window at Main Street. From his place over the hardware store, he could watch the RexAll and the Diner, and he liked the view. His TV was tuned to something slightly fuzzy – perhaps an afternoon soap opera as it revealed a bathroom with a filling tub, bubbles flowing upwards while a woman in a robe hummed and moved through the room, her hair caught up in a turban-style towel atop her head.

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area we call the Twilight Zone... of Sex…

The Greyhound pulled into town – Arnie checked his watch; right on time, of course. This being Johnsonville, no soul approached the bus stop or stepped out of the depot at the Diner. Not even the driver left the bus, instead content to open the door and idle for a couple minutes. The scene on TV had changed a little – now the woman was submerged in bubbles up to her chin, the camera focusing on the tub as Arnie leaned forward in his recliner, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. A figure exited the bus outside, and Arnie shook his head, tsk-tsking softly. Poor stranger – once they were off that bus, they became the property of Johnsonville, and this town had yet to let a single person go in all the years he had been here.

You're travelling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination - Next stop, the Twilight Zone… of Sex!

The stranger slipped through the Diner’s door, and Arnie watched Bobby Ray glide out from the kitchen, where he was sure she had been up to no good, as usual. Arnie licked his lips, noticing that the lady on TV was now groaning softly, her back arching as she tilted her head back against the rim of the tub. Twin mounds – large, generous breasts – broke the bubbled surface, their nipples floating towards the ceiling. Arnie grunted himself now, rubbing his hardening member through his pants and shorts, the woman on screen beginning to moan in a long, low voice that seemed to originate from somewhere downstairs.

You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone… of Sex!


The Greyhound, well aware of its schedule and Johnsonville’s … unusual tendencies, closed its door and started on its way back down the highway. The woman – now identifiable as Mrs. O’Halloran when she lifts her head and the towel slides off her hair – is practically sobbing in pleasure now, both arms working between her legs beneath the obscurity of water and bubbles, her entire body bowing almost violently as she gyrates and rocks herself in the tub. Arnie’s fingers are squeezing and manipulating the thick tool in his lap, and he is blissfully unaware of all else as he hears his downstairs neighbor splashing wildly in their tub. His TV, of course, is not tuned to any particular station – but rather, it is his doorway to the delights of Johnsonville and its occupants, and being so passionately voyeuristic, Arnie adores it, worshipping at its glass screen daily with something akin to obsession.

This highway leads to the shadowy tip of reality: you're on a through route to the land of the different, the bizarre, the unexplainable...Go as far as you like on this road. Its limits are only those of mind itself. Ladies and Gentlemen, you're entering the wondrous dimension of imagination. Next stop....The Twilight Zone… of Sex.


Arnie is gasping and groaning himself, cock in hand and making soft slapping noises as Mrs O seems to find her own O – her lips drawing into a round exclamation of pleasure as her cries crescendo and escalate in pitch, falling silent for several breathless seconds before erupting into long, groaning sounds of pleasurable release. Arnie’s downstairs neighbor seems to echo these sounds, if in a more subdued manner then through the TV, and Arnie grits his teeth and grunts, his own orgasm rocketing from the bottom of his balls and out across the room in a gentle arc of thick, ropy release. Collapsing into his recliner, panting, he makes a mental note to tell Mrs. O what Mr. O is missing out on next time he sees her around town. On wobbling legs, he rises and moves to the set – shifting its yellow plastic dial until he comes upon something equally as interesting now: a teenage girl with curling blonde hair, wending her way through a shadowed wooden glade. Through the trees behind her, a shadowed, furred creature moved. Deciding this had the potential to turn into the best thing he’d seen in weeks, Arnie plopped back into his recliner and grinned.

(You can find the OOC thread here)​
 
Oxana Dragon

Bobby Ray was licking her lips and obviously delighted to see the man who walked into the Diner, but Oxana didn't doubt what really had Bobby Ray smiling. The girl was infinitely licentious, and while Oxana was not a prude by any means, she didn't envy her the choices she made. From the RexAll across the street, Oxana had a clear view into the glass windows of the diner and she eyed the new arrival for a moment, trying to assess what she could see through the afternoon glare on the windows. She thought it was a man, and when Bobby Ray sidled with a beatific smile, she knew it was.

Oxana rolled her eyes and went back to what she was doing - sorting through and rehanging the ladies cosmetics. Unlike other areas of the pharmacy that seemed to be easy to keep clean, orderly, and well-stocked, there was a perpetual problem with the women's cosmetics. Personally, Oxana thought it was the other teens in town,but heaven forbid she complain about anyone who brought revenue to Mr. Rafaeli's store. Just thinking about the portly, swarthy little Jewish man made Oxana smile and she hastened to finish up what she was doing so she could make herself a soda at the fountain.

Oxana had come to Johnsonville almost twelve years ago. The daughter of Ukrainian immigrants, she had fled the immigrant enclave her family had joined in New York City and thrown herself into the depths of a Greyhound bus almost identical to the one that just left town. She had been sixteen when she got here, and found it to be the strangest place. It never ceased to amaze her. School had been a joke, authority in the city negligible. The marshall had picked her up for truancy once - handcuffed her naked and spread-eagle in one of the cells and then disappeared for a while. Hours later she was released, and told she was supposed to go to school until she was eighteen. It had only taken her two weeks to realize that half the teachers were sleeping with the students - or each other. Oxana had figured it out, finally. It took her a while to do so, but Johnsonville was the visceral, secretive place where everyone fulfilled some dream. High school antics and even the occasional incident in town had been interesting, illuminating, and in some ways helped her understand herself better - but unlike everyone else, it seemed, she still hadn't found that little niche she could occupy.

She was at the fountain, scooping vanilla into a tall glass when Mr. Rafaeli came wandering down from his apartment upstairs. She didn't ask, and he didn't say anything - instead, the two just smiled at each other, and he came over, patting his thinning hair into place.

"Oxana, dear, I'd love a float too," he said in his warm, fatherly manner. One of the reasons Oxana loved working at the RexAll was Mr. Rafaeli did not try to be anything but a good boss, and sometimes a good friend when he thought she needed it. She knew there probably wasn't anywhere else she'd get treated so fairly, and so it made it easier for her love working with and for him.

"Of course, Mr. Rafaeli. You want cherry syrup in that?" He nodded and smiled again, and she hurried to scoop and drizzle his ice cream before pulling the tap over the glass. "I got the shelves done, so I think I'll start putting together the Valentine's Day stuff if that's ok?" Despite never having had a good Valentine's Day herself, there was something beautiful and sweet in the piles of vividly red promotional material, the boxes of candies, the velvety soft heart-shaped valentines with their doily-lace edges that made her ... nostalgic, maybe, or simply melted that cool little place that had built up around her heart over the last couple of years.

There were, of course, some serious downsides to time passing so slowly here - being a sixteen year old girl for twelve years might seem to be one of them. Lately, however, something had been changing and Oxana didn't know if it was something in her or something in the town itself. Her body - young, lissome, blooming - still felt the same, but the way the air pressed on her was starting to feel different. Her hair was still bright shining platinum almost-white blonde, loosely curling, often caught in pigtails and curling around her shoulders. Her eyes were still bright blue, crystalline, her skin pale and lending the appearance of fragility with its semi-translucence. But the mind that was inside those things was changing, and she couldn't quite put a finger on what it was.

"Of course, punkin, get the boxes out of storage - only two weeks until February, huh?" Mr. Rafaeli teased her. Oxana laughed, blushing slightly at her own exuberance.

"Yeah, well, it is my favorite holiday, you know," she conceded, ducking her head. "Sorry. I'll go through the book rack first, Mr. Rafaeli." She slurped down the last of her float, using the straw to chase the foam on the sides and bottom for several noisy, slurping seconds.

"Eh, no worries. You want it to be Valentines Day - we can pretend its Valentine Day's." Mr. Rafaeli was laughing at her, but it was alright, because Oxana was laughing at herself, too. Part of her just wasn't ready to go home yet - she had a spartan studio apartment out by the school, one in a long row of similarly built and decorated cottages, and while she enjoyed the view of the lake she found she got lonely. As an outsider, she had never really had a lot of purpose or meaning in town, and it seemed like without her job at the RexAll she'd just be another shadow flitting around the outskirts of Johnsonville.

"Thanks, Mr. Rafaeli," Oxana said gratefully. She gave him an affectionate pat on the arm and skipped to the book rack, rotating their series titles and making sure everything was put back in correct alphabetical order. For whatever reason, thinking about it made her feel like a whole new person, inside and out.
 
Doc Jonathin

As I sit in my favorite green rocking chair, on the porch of my stately three story victorian home, I sip the lemonade and watch the last Greyhound bus pull away. Even though it has been over eighty years since I stepped off the bus, destination Johnsonville.

In retrospect it has been a good career and have no complaints, but it is far from the dreams I had while attending medical school. However, I am getting ahead of myself. You see, by the time I was 25, I was well on my way to making my fortune as a Family Physician, when in a dream I was told "start a practice in Johnsonville." And even as I tell you this tale, "I am still 25 years of age."

And I know this sounds strange, but as I stepped off the bus, right across the street, this man, a total stranger, was taking a sheet off the sign in the yard, right out there and it said "Doc Jonathin - Family Physician." He just laughed and walked away, while I just looked at the sign and walked up on this porch. I sat my bags down and my black medical bag, the same one I still carry when I make house calls, and tried the front door.

It was open, so I walked in. Upon entering the house you are immediately in the waiting room and I say this as there is a sign "Doc Jonathin Waiting Room." There is a brown couch and the same 6 white plastic chairs.

I have never needed a nurse or even a receptionist, as at this practice, there is never a charge or any paper work. And I know you will find this hard to believe, "but everything I ever needed was always provided."

So continuing on with the tour, let us step into the exam room. This is where it all happens, right here on this black exam table, as I tap the faded black leather table with the white paper covering the top.

And now look closely over at the framed diploma hanging over the desk across the room and you will be reading my Medical Oath

On this date,
Doctor Jonathin
Promises to
Treat each patient
with all of the
Perversion and Humiliation
That is humanly possible.
Oct 31, 1929

The old brass bell over the front door rings again and I walk across the room and open the interior door and in my most calm and reassuring voice say
"Please Come In," and laugh loudly.
 
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Doc Dobrescu enters the Rexall in much the same way he always does, with a grin for Oxana and Bobby Rae, the two diametrically opposite but beautiful women. He's your for his profession, only in his late 20s, but he knows his material. He isn't sure how, but he has been in the town a few years when he'd planned to pass through. In the last years many things have changed, including his responses to the deepest darkest desires he used to deny. Now he indulges them.

"Hi Miss Oxana. Hows the night going? Mr. Rafaeli keeping his hands to himself?" The comment is playful, and ritual by now. He leans forward, kissing her softly on the cheek. He's always wanted to do more, but isn't sure how she'd respond, so he's never pushed the issue. Bobby Ray however made it clear his first night in town what he could do with her. He took her up on it once or twice, but nothing developed. Bobby ray wasn't that kind of woman. His green eyes smoulder, a banked fire always seeming to be just waiting to be prodded alive beneath the surface. He has shoulder length strawberry brown hair that he runs a hand through, unconsciously staring at her extremely attractive form as he tosses over his shoulder to Mr. Rafaeli.. "I'll take my usual white chocolate raspberry shake please."

He leans in, looking at the books she's shelving. "Anything good today?" He tries to not stay too close for too long, but her scent always draws him in, and she has yet to say no to a hug.
 
Oxana Dragon

Oxana's pale, slender fingers skimmed easily through the small little dime novels, her attention slipping only for a moment across 1st to where she can see Bobby Ray in the Diner - swaying her hips and sashaying around the shiny restaurant like it was hers. Might as well be for all the attention Mr. Varley paid it these days - well, unless paying attention to the Diner included paying attention to Bobby Ray, because like everyone else in town, that girl had him wrapped around her little finger too. Oxana just rolled her eyes and then started when the little bell over the door rang, and the towns second doctor came in - Doc Dobrescu. Young for a Doctor, he is also one of the few men in town who treats Oxana with decency, and she leans into his friendly kiss on the cheek with a beaming smile.

"Evenin', Doc," she responds by way of greeting - the sun streaking across the intersection of 1st and Main is amber, casting long shadows along the raised boardwalk sidewalks fronting the old stores downtown, and she realizes it has quickly slid from afternoon towards evening while she has been lost in reverie and industriously applying herself.

The Doc leans over her shoulder and into the book rack, eyeing the goods her fingers sort through, and Oxana gives a little shake of her head even as she smiles gently at the Doc. He was young for an educated man, but this was Johnsonville - people seemed eternal here - but sometimes just eternally lascivious, or lazy, or whatever vice it was that held them here in its grip, one that was unrelenting.

"No sir, nothing new has come in this week I'm afraid," she answers softly, shaking her pigtails gently. They brush against his shoulder and she stops what she is doing to give him a gentle hug from the side. "I was actually just about to pull out the Valentine's boxes, Mr. Rafaeli said I could." Mr. Rafaeli, working behind the soda bar, laughs and nods his head even as he plops down the frothy glass for the Doc.

"You know our girl, she does love her some hearts and lace, crazy child," teases Mr. Rafaeli, chuckling as he straightens and tugs at his suspenders. "But we're not busy, and its good for business to look festive, huh?"
 
"Valentine's day hm? Haven't had to worry about that in a while, which is somewhat saddening. I never knew you were big into it." The sudden feel of her braids makes him start, bumping into her delectable ass. He realizes the closeness and view he's inadvertently given himself has made him rather hard. For the first time in a year and a half, a long time, yet no time at all in this town, he's touched her in an inappropriate way. The friction of the slow drag is very arousing.

The soft thud of the glass and her movement so she can give him a hug snaps him from his reverie. Her hug presses her ample bosom into him, the shirt gaping just a hint more for a moment which he immediately averts his gaze not wanting to be caught staring.

He tries to hide the rather prominent erection she has given him, but isn't sure she didn't see it before he could. He sips the fresh, frothy beverage with a happy smack, trying to act normal. "I didn't know you were that eager about Valentine's. I take it some lucky lad will be doing something special for you?" The question is light, conversational, but Doc is afterall a psychologist. You can ask many questions many ways. For as he thinks about it, he doesn't think he's ever really seen her with anyone.
 
Oxana Dragon

While still physically caught at the tail end of puberty, Oxana's mind had not been a child's for a long time. This could be both good and bad, as she felt things and had concerns that were not appropriate for a child. She had physical wants and needs that were not child-like, and her mind had long since grown into an adults. Unfortunately without appropriate guidance and mentoring, the process through which she was growing up was becoming twisted into something dark, although it was beyond her ability to recognize or comprehend. She knew only these things - that she was growing to learn happiness in Johnsonville, weird place that it was.

One of the things that brought Oxana happiness was the balmy weather. Oh, sure - they had violent thunderstorms in the Spring, and nippy days in the Fall, sweltering days in Summer and snowstorms and the occasional blizzard in Winter. But these things were uncommon - Johnsonville was usually mild, clement, balmy - enough so that Oxana could bypass things like pants, contenting herself with hip shorts or knee-length skirts, like the one she wore today. It was built to be worn on top of thirteen layers of petticoats, so without them the extra fabric hung in heavy folds around her knees. Her work blouse was all she wore or needed on top, and it was soft, powder blue with carefully starched white collars. A white silk ribbon lined the seam where her blue buttons pushed through, and did she know the two inches between each button caused the blouse to balloon and gap when she hugged Doc, or when he hugged her back? Of course not. But could she tell that something had changed when he darted away? Absolutely.

She might not have seen the growing bulge in Doc's lap, but Mr. Rafaeli did. He gave Dobrescu a dark look even as he wiped the counter with a rag smelling of bleach and offered Oxana a gentle smile.

"What? Me? No - naw, I don't got a fella, Doc, I just like dreamin' about love. Must be a girl thing," she finishes, laughing softly at herself as she runs her palms up and down the spinning wire book rack, making sure everything is neat and tidy.

"Well, that's it Mr. Rafaeli. It's getting dark out - if you don't mind, I think I'll head home for tonight. I can work on the Valentine's stuff in my free time tomorrow, I'm sure we won't be too busy." She smiles cheerfully, reminding herself how much she loves her job. Johnsonville is weird, and it makes her weird being there, but it is one of those things that one accepts as a kind of reality. "Sorry, sir, just ... feel like getting out of here all of a sudden," she says, sighing deeply and feeling antsy.
 
Sitting on my porch and looking up the street, I see Oxanna leave the store and begin to walk briskly up the street. Approaching my house, I stand and wave and say "evening Oxanna, how are you?"
"Oh and if you do not have any dinner plans, I am about to put steak on the barbecue. Could I interest you in dinner?" as I smile sweetly at you.
 
Oxana Dragon

(OOC Note: Sorry for the delay. That shift in continuity from the last post had me a little stumped, but I think I've resolved it to my personal satisfaction.)

After Mr. Rafaeli's permission to leave, Oxana had been halfway down Main when she came up to Doctor Jonathin's house. Doc J had been the original doctor in town, well settled before Oxana or Doc Dobrescu had put in an appearance. He seemed like a nice enough fellow - and unlike most in town, his ... interesting proclivities were well known and understood.

Doc Jonathin waylaid Oxana as she passed by his gate, calling her over and then inviting her to stay for a steak dinner.

"Ah, shucks, thanks Doc - but I'm afraid I've got some stuff to take care of back home. Can I offer you a raincheck? A steak sounds great, and I'd love to join you for dinner sometime." She smiled gently to soften whatever dismay her words might cause, happy to stay and chat with him for a little while.

Eventually saying bye to Doc Jonathin, Oxana continued moving down Main to Lakeside, which she took to her cabin on the lake - or big pond, or whatever it was. It was pretty, picturesque even with the string of small cabins on the northern shore. It was pitch black by the time she got home, but she knew what it would look like when she rose, the sun painting it vivid shades. She went to her own cabin and tucked herself away for the night, and in the morning awoke to glossy reflections of light dancing on her ceiling from the waters surface, the early morning sun blaring through her front window and painting the white walls inside shades of peach. She rose and stretched slowly in her warm flannel pajamas, making her way to her little hot plate where she warmed up the teakettle.

An hour later, after a sparse but tasty breakfast and several cups of bracing tea full of milk and sugar, Oxana once again donned her powder blue RexAll jacket and today wore a pleated white satin skirt, the pleats stiffly starched so that they lay flat, yet still had liberty when she moved - or twirled, as she did now in front of her cloudy mirror. She drew her gilded hair up into a simple ponytail, tied a matching blue bandana around it, and then brushed her bangs across her forehead in as straight a line as she could manage. She made a mental note to get a haircut soon, and then packed some edibles and began the return walk to work.

Ten minutes until eight found Oxana at the pharmacy's door, unlocking it with her key and letting herself in. She immediately started warming up the lights, then checked the register to make sure she had enough small bills and change for the day. Mr. Rafaeli enjoyed sleeping in and spending time with his family upstairs, and letting Oxana handle the store for the earliest half of the day seemed to fit his needs perfectly. Oxana usually enjoyed leaving before the afternoon was over, it gave her time to get errands done or visit around town, go for walks or take her bike out for a leisurely ride or anything else that caught her fancy. She also enjoyed the quiet, solitary feel of the RexAll first thing in the morning - how clean and orderly it all felt, shining and bright and perfectly complete until the first customer walked in the door.

Oxana spared a moment to glance across 1st Avenue, and catching sight of Johnny McFadden in the diner, waved and smiled. Johnny waved and smiled back - they knew each other from school, and he usually held the diner down until a wait staff wandered in to take care of things. She had gone on a date with him once a couple of years back - they had gone on a hayride during the fall festival and he had groped under her skirt in the darkness. Later she had returned the favor with a nervous hand-job behind the McFadden's barn, and that had pretty much been that. He was a nice guy for all that, and Oxana had always liked his dimples. A couple heads in the diner turned her way and a couple hands waved as well - Oxana dutifully returned them, her smile turning into a beaming grin. Johnsonville was small enough to be friendly, and she really did enjoy that.

Flipping the sign on the door from closed to open, Oxana dipped into the back room and pulled down the crates labelled for Valentine's Day. She remembered Mr. Rafaeli's promises and intended to hold him to them, and as she began to set a window display in the corner window, Oxana found herself humming quite happily, unable to stop from smiling brightly at the townspeople who passed by outside.
 
Doc Dobrescu is the town's only psychiatrist. He has found it interesting that though several have sought his services, most people here in Johnsonville seem to be quite happy with their own quirks. The first year he stayed to himself. He isn't one for tv, having found he prefers to read back in the real world. However over the last few months he's come out of his shell a bit. He has started to notice some of the oddities in town.

He is heading towards the office when he sees the delectable young Oxana in the window. He can't help but think of the way the conversation ended the night before. She's single, looking for love. It is one of few things he has always craved.

He likes the freedom to wander, stay or go as he pleases. That has somehow faded here. First it was his car breaking down that landed him in town. It took weeks for the parts to be found about town, and repaired. By then the place had grown on him. Its as if there is something here. He's waiting for whatever it is.

He has no patients til later, so decides to stop into the Rexall. She's facing away from him when he steps up to the door. Its one of the stores with an inset door and windows along the front and sides leading in so he sees her profile. She has such great, perky tits, a wonderful ass. He instantly grows hard, thinking about what he wants to do to her right there in the display area of the store. He wants to yank her skirt up, shove himself deeply, feel the slow slide of her flesh accepting him within her. He has slipped into the store quietly, using her distraction to his advantage before he realizes it.

His hand reaches for her skirt and yanking the back upwards, the other making the only sound, the sound of his fly unzipping, an extremely hard, seven inch long, three inch wide cock standing rigidly at attention popping out, nearly touching her. He freezes in that pose, her skirt raised enough to show her creamy ass his cock so needing. "Oh god. Miss Oxana Im sorry! I don't know what came over me." The only saving grace is much of the town doesn't come into the store this early, and the view from the street, while showing her delicious tits, will not expose him, or her rear.
 
Oxana Dragon

The store had been quiet, and so Oxana had turned on the little transistor radio on the counter. She was dancing and bopping to the Monkees, singing as she leaned over the high partition backing the window display and bee bopped from one side to the other. She was hanging lace, singing about the last train to Clarksville when a suave announcer broke in with a voice over. Distracted, she lifted her head and peeked around the store - but no, still an empty vista within the RexAll. Even Main and what she could see of 1st was quiet and empty - not unusual, in such a small, sedate town. Happy now, practically giddy with the level of joy that decorating with the vibrant white and lurid red valentines gave her, she felt her happiness kick up another notch when she heard the beginning of her favorite Beatles tune come on the radio.

Oxana was singing - and while not very well, with a lot of passion and joy - about Jude's bad day, an awful song, and letting love into his heart. She didn't hear Doc slip in - indeed, he intentionally opened the door slow enough that the bell hooked over its sill did not chime. When it came to the closing refrain, Oxana was happily tossing heart shaped confetti onto the bed of cotton batting she had laid down, singing at the top of her lungs.

"Nah, nah nah nah, nah-nah-nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah, he-ey Jude!" Oxana was absorbed, happy, oblivious - and then her waggling hips went still as a cold rush of air crawled up the back of her legs and over her behind. Someone had flipped the back of her skirt over the small of her back, and she let out a little whimpering cry, freezing in place. The cold air was followed an instant later by a rush of heat that she could feel crawling up the back of her thighs and across her buttocks.

Said buttocks were cradled in a pair of bright white panties, soft, worn cotton that cradled only half the appled cheeks of her buttocks, the fabric worn thin with use and semi tranlucent - darkest where it nestled in the valley between her thighs, a shadowed cleft hinting at the sleek, soft young flesh beneath.

"Oh god. Miss Oxana Im sorry! I don't know what came over me." cried out a familiar voice, and Oxana turned to look over her shoulder, frowning in consternation.

"To Sir, with Love - the time has come..." sang the tinny radio softly in the background.

"D-Do-Doc?" she asked tremulously, her body shivering, alternating in flashes of heat and cold as she pressed her knees together and tried to stifle a little sob. "W-wh-wha-what ... are you doing...?" After saying it, however, she was suddenly terrified that she didn't actually want to know - because she knew he was crouched behind her, his pants unzipped, and the tool she knew he wielded hidden from her line of sight by her own buttocks. Her belly sunk, then tightened, and all of a sudden she couldn't breathe, her thighs feverish and hot where they touched each other.
 
He is still so stunned he answers honestly. He does not move, for fear of breaking the tableau. Even more so because she has the most delectable ass. She was bending to spread out the confetti when he realizes the situation. The panties while once merely functional has now become lingerie. The fact it is it unintentional, obviously so from the long faded marks showing they're hers, makes his cock twitch, a bead of precum sliding from the glans. "Well, I'm standing here with no idea I moved. I was coming up, saw you bent over. I was compelled. I snuck in. Yanked your skirt up."

He groans softly, inching close enough so that his cockhead touches the fabric, traces lightly along the length, from her clit to the opening of her femaleness, most of the bead grinding through against her clit without him ordering his hips to move at all.

"Im... Uh... Staring at a literally perfect ass." Also the out line of what seems to be, is teasing me with the promise of, a tight, bare, amazing young pussy. What I was about to do is lubricate my cock. Grab your hips and shove my way as deep into you as I can and proceed to fuck you til I marked and impregnated you. Or had damn well tried..." The fabric is so sheer that slight nudge, with the little lubrication her body's feverish core has suddenly made at the possibilities...

Her startlement, and looking back made her spread her legs a bit, reposition to balance so she could look back at him, see what was happening. It streches the overworked panties just enough.The skirt is still in the air, his free hand reaching out to rest and stabilize on her ass when the fabric rips, his cockhead slowly pushing into her increments at a time til his head has fully popped in.

He never notices the cardboard boxes filleted, and placed in the window to hide the display a bit so customers can see her, wave when shes standing, but cant see the display shes putting up til it's done. The display area is raised up, like a small stage, just enough, allowing him perfect access. Unless she raises, or screams....no one will know. Bent over as she is she is now hidden. "Ohhh Oxxxannna.." Is all he breathes, cock twitching in her, her virgin quim taking a mans seed for the first time. His precum.
 
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Oxana Dragon

Oxana could remember the first - and last - person she had tried to date seriously, here in Johnsonville. Back in New York, there hadn't been anyone she'd really wanted to be with - or at least no one her family would have let her, let alone the entire enclave. The other immigrant boys that had foisted her on had been even more belligerent and angry about being there then she had been, taking it out on her in their gruff, pubescent way; pinching her, poking her, pulling her hair, and when they couldn't get away with making her miserable, they would say awful and horrid things to her. Their anger had been understandable - even if it was misdirected.

Here in Johnsonville, there had been a string of boys who insisted they wanted to spend time with her - but like their parents, they were buried in pubescent obsessions and fantasies, driven by some bizarre series of emotions that she totally didn't even understand and they couldn't verbalize. However, there had been one instance of someone who had tried to reach out to her. He had been nice, and shy, and in the beginning was understanding and patient when it came to her unwillingness to have sex while they figured out who and what they were together. They had been attached at the hip for several consecutive weeks, going everywhere and doing everything together. In the beginning he was chivalrous and kind and attentive - he would kiss her fingers while they held hands, wait for her outside the bathrooms at the movie theater, hold doors for her, treat her to ice cream and shows... and even answer her in sweet, indirect ways when she said she loved him. Then, when the physical aspect didn't continue to progress... he had lost interest, wandered off, without really saying how or why. Mark Reede - he with the platinum hair and icy eyes - his parents said they would make beautiful children.

Not like she would know - not like they would ever know... life in Johnsonville seemed so straightforward for some, and complicated for others. Or weird, or bizarre, or beautiful, or fantastical... For Oxana it had been none of those things - just a long period of waiting for something weird, or bizarre, or beautiful, or fantastical to happen to her, or with her... And here it was - both bizarre and weird. Whether it would be fantastic or beautiful, she had yet to discover - but she decided she would wait, and see.

When Doc Dobrescu spoke, Oxana simply listened. She bit her lower lip, lowered her eyes - and then finally her head, hanging it as she braced her forearms on the rough painted plywood divider of the window displays backboard.

"I'm... Uh... Staring at a literally perfect ass. Also the out line of what seems to be, is teasing me with the promise of, a tight, bare, amazing young pussy. What I was about to do is lubricate my cock. Grab your hips and shove my way as deep into you as I can and proceed to fuck you til I marked and impregnated you. Or had damn well tried..."

The compliment - both inherent and implied - made her blush. It started between her breasts - hot in temperature, vivid pink in color. The pressure at her plump nether-flesh was something else entirely; it was thick and bulbous, hot, steamy, she could feel it emanating a tsunami like torridness that threatened to devour her. Her exposed ass, upper thighs, the tender flesh where they met and the sensitive valley between them now felt cool - cold, icy even - and his heat, the threat of his groin behind that probing stiffness felt like it would melt her, inside and out.

She knew from the street she was just a girl working at her job, industriously applying herself to a faintly premature celebration of a sappy, puerile holiday. But here, in the RexAll, she was a young woman who was being opened to the reality of an adult world, her eyes widening, her mouth sliding into a little oval of wonder and curiosity, wonder and stunning realization as the truth of that thick, hot knob forced itself past the thin cotton of her drawers and between her silken outer lips, pressing further between tight portals until it is nestling its way through flesh that is hot and quivering in echo of the muscles of her inner thighs, his moisture meeting her heat as Oxana bites her lower lip, unconsciously rising part way onto her toes as her fingers splay on the cotton batted bottom of the display.

"D-Do-Doc...?" she finally emits on a tremulous little cry, the single sound loaded with a dozen nuances of thought and emotion that she can't quite grasp, let alone verbalize. It is an acknowledgement, a plea, a question, an exclamation, and a breathy, helpless declaration of surrender all at once.
 
"I- I'm sorry Miss Oxana." He is torn. So very very torn. There is is oath. There is the fact she seems so innocent, so pure. There is the fact that he was just beginning to think there may be something. Then there is the need. An overwhelming hunger. There is just how wet, how tight, how wonderful the wet velvet glove of her vulva feels around the tip of his very hard, very sensitive maleness.

"You look so young...Like a beautiful, dainty elf you hear about....Caught in between... But when i got here... it was your 10th 16th birthday. I had to pull mech from party... Which while odd... Makes you 28 now. Yet so...innocent..." His brain is so overworked and in shock. He's that kind of a guy, brain unable to shut down, talks when he's nervous. "And oh how I want to...Need to..."

The tones in her voice as she stammers her query register, and he instinctually acts upon them. Especially the ones he really likes. His hands grip her hips firmly. He continues to slowly press forward, inching into her warm, wet, heavenly depths. "I hope you can forgive me..."

He leans forward, molding himself to her body, his hands moving beneath her top so that they may caress her skin, feel the soft smoothness against his fingertips. He marvels at how delicate she feels, how perfect. Then he runs into a barrier far earlier than expected, his cock buried but a few inches. "Ohhh....You're a...Virgin!?!"
 
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Oxana Dragon

Oxana's nether-flesh is plump - the tight constraint of the thin cotton seems to make it more pouting, swelling it in that tiny fission in her underwear. Youth makes her labia full, their pale pinkness broken only by a light dusting of golden corn silk, a fuzz so fine, so pale, and so short it is practically invisible to the naked eye and barely detectable by the proximity of flesh. The darker, rubied flesh nestled within it is thinner, its lipped edges more pronounced. It is hotter, moister, and far more sensitive then the outer labia. And inside, the flesh of her sex is hottest, its natural moisture being enhanced now by the slick glans forging through it, parting tight depths heretofore unexplored, unopened, coaxing a deeper natural response from the womb to which this tunnel is gated, held captive, protected more fiercely then anything else in her body.

"I- I'm sorry Miss Oxana." Doc Dobrescu sounds miserable, he sounds desperate. This Oxana does not understand - for in her understanding, men seek this - they desperately crave this part of a woman, and the intimacy of sex.

"You look so young...Like a beautiful, dainty elf you here about....Caught in between... But when i got here... it was your 10th 16th birthday. I had to pull mech from party... Which while odd... Makes you 28 now. Yet so...innocent..."

Oxana remembered the party - the tenth one that Bobby Ray had managed to spring on her. Bobby Ray had turned it into the largest prank in town - surprising Oxana every year on her real birthday. Oxana and Bobby Ray, for all their differences, were and had been best friends since her second day here. Oxana had once let it slip that she had never had a birthday party in her parents home - they had always been too poor, it violated their Orthodox beliefs, it was selfish when plenty of their family were still starving and cold in Ukraine... The reasons had been endless. Regardless, Bobby Ray made it her personal goal every year to surprise the heck out of Oxana every year - to throw her a wild, themed party every year, to lavish her with crazy presents, and a wild celebration that always descended into festive orgy. But, that was pretty common around Bobby Ray - not that Oxana blamed anyone, ever. She was beautiful and funny and built like 'a walking wet dream', to quote every man Oxana had ever met here in Johnsonville.

"And oh how I want to...Need to..." gasped Doc Dobrescu.

Oxana thought she did, too - she had been hoping for it, pondering on it, dreaming of it, fantasizing about it since the third day she came to Johnsonville. Sex had become an obsession and fixation for her, too - but her outlet had been an imaginary world, an imaginary situation - an imaginary man she had not yet met.

"I hope you can forgive me..." panted Doc D.

Oxana didn't know - was this what she had dreamed of, the person she had dreamed of, the situation she had been imagining inside her head forever? No. But - it was what it was. She didn't know what else except to accept it. This was a man - not a panting boy, groping and fondling at her in dark, crowded spaces - a grown man who was panting behind her, collapsing against her, his hands crawling up her silken belly and across the cups of her thin satin brassiere.

Between her thighs, in her lower belly, she could feel his thickness probing and pressing, powering its way through the tight tunnel of her flesh until her slumping body is being pierced - as if by an arrowhead, a weapon, a knife, a sword that is cutting her open from her sex until it is coming out of her throat in a low, keening cry.

"Ohhh....You're a...Virgin!?!" exclaims the Doctor.

"Y-ye-yes," hisses Oxana through her teeth, unable to quell the fierce shudder that claims her belly and makes her knees collapse until they are only leaning against each other and the rough plywood backing of the display. Her arms and head are hanging, the expression on her face one of confused dismay, her body boneless, without muscle - a toy in the hot hands curled over her hips, dragging at her leaden limbs, slowly and inevitably piercing that thin fragile veil between childhood and womanhood with thick, leaking flesh that seeks to possess her inside and out.
 
Bobby Ray

Bobby Ray found today to be a delicious day – she was whistling as she strode her way down Main, her short, pleated skirt ruffling in the day's light breeze as she swung her purse in one hand and a jacket on the other arm. An innately happy person – disgustingly so, by some standards – Bobby Ray found this mornings sunshine delightful, and she was not afraid to show it. Bobby Ray was not ashamed of her joy in life's simple pleasures – such as the pretty day, or her pretty looks, or even in the licentious pleasure she indulged in every day here at home in Johnsonville. She loved the life it provided, she loved her life – and it made her in to a loving, bright girl. She was also completely unafraid of making people aware of the value she put on things – or didn't as the case may be.

Bobby Ray was swinging her way, whistling and skipping, past Doc Jonathin's place when she noticed the deliciously deviant gent out on his porch, rocking and likewise whistling. She smiled and waved, leaning over his gate and shamelessly offering him a cleavage shot as she hung, her low-buttoned blouse gaping open to offer an unhindered glimpse of her young, rounded globes, nestled in their shiny satin and lace bra.

“G'mornin, Doc,” she teased in her psuedo-drawl. Bobby Ray's family was originally from Tennessee, but they had settled in Johnsonville before she was born. Her imitation of their twang was an affectation, nothing more, but one she enjoyed indulging in with regularity. It, like many other things in her life, made Bobby Ray happy. “I'm-a see about coming by ya'lls place next week or so – I been a little rough on my little lady and she don't seem so happy with me right now.” Bobby Ray laughs – she is, as everyone in town knows, very rough on her 'little lady', but she also knows that stopping by to see the Doc will be a highlight to both their days, and shameless wanton that she is, it's always a treat to indulge in time in his office. She waved at him, blew him an affectionate kiss goodbye, and then waved happily, practically falling out of her shirt as she did so. “Toodles, Doc!” she exclaimed happily.

Bobby Ray continued on her way to the diner, pondering on the odd gent who had came in last night. Like all newcomers, she had got him settled in at the Rainbow Lodge, a little motel run by the Frank family off of Fifth and Main, on the outskirts of downtown. The Franks were nice enough folk – discrete and friendly, always happy to take in the newcomers when they first got to town and hadn't the foggiest. Bobby Ray's concern was with the new fella. Unlike most, he had not seem interested in her almost blatant offer of shenanigans, instead feigning a confusing exhaustion she knew was probably exaggerated. Whether he did it out of concern for what he thought was her virtue or because he didn't find her appealing – there was the truly disturbing question.

Bobby Ray was passing the RexAll now, and catching sight of Oxana in the window, she waggled her fingers and smiled. Oxana, however, looked so out of it – wide eyed, her mouth caught in a little 'oh!' that Bobby Ray quickly realized what was going on. She couldn't see past the high divider of the window display, but she knew that someone was back there, bending her over and giving her a good reaming.

About time that little bitch got herself properly loosened up the right way, thought Bobby Ray to herself. It wasn't thought with malice – indeed, she pressed her lips to the window and gave the oblivious Oxana a loving kiss even as she continued on her way to the diner on the corner – but with a decade and then some of love, of watching Oxana hold out and be separate from the joyous festivities in town, the eager boys ruckuses and energetic romps, even the sedate or often lascivious indulgences of the elder townspeople. Bobby Ray found it delicious, decadent, and all too much fun – Oxana had always found it frightening or strange or sometimes just something else to make her feel isolated and alone. She could hardly wait to catch her tonight and pester her all about it, then drag a promise from her to go on a double date with the Connolly brothers – lord knew those two were always hot to trot.

Bobby Ray pulled up to the diner and paused for a moment outside, using her reflection in the early morning sunlight reflected on the door to pat her hair and double check her makeup – a little lipstick, a little eyeshadow, and a lot of mascara and eyeliner. She looked like hot shit today, even if she did say so herself. She swung into the diner, giggling happily and waving at everyone joyously.

“Mornin', mornin' ya'll,” she happily exclaimed, slipping behind the counter and stowing her purse and jacket out of sight beneath the register. The diner was quiet this morning, but she knew the later she was here the busier it would get – sometimes just with guys hoping when she got off, she'd actually get off with them. It always did make her giggle.

This morning, her attention was caught by Drew – Andrew Stockton, to be precise. Unlike most of the guys she had gone to school with, he appeared older than her, if younger then the 'adults'. Bobby Ray wasn't sure if it was because of how hard he lived or just how different he was from everyone else here. He drove like a madman in or motorcycle alike, and he drank, and smoked, and ate – a lot. He was still lean, lithe and tall the way Bobby Ray really liked them – but he was also tattooed, and sardonic, and a little … scary. Oxana had always warned Bobby Ray that her liking for the dark things was going to get her in trouble one of these days – and while it hadn't yet, if Drew kept showing up around the diner, it just might. That boy was lean, mean, tattooed and just too delicious for words.
 
Roger Ray

In the back office of the Rainbow Lodge Roger Ray and Marcus Frank look at several 8x10 glossies. Roger sorts though the stack handing them a couple at a time to Marcus.

"Marcus check out this one." He hands over a picture of Milly Frank. "Yeah Marcus you can clearly see Milly strokin Stan Winkel through his pants. I gotta say your lovely wife is a money maker."

Marcus rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Milly is a good wife, and Stan does make a good pay check. Still though, I wish she would stay with our own kind, not jumpin inta the sack wit no Communist. Damn it man this is the 60's not the 40's. Heck back then Nazi or Communist no one cared. Now with all that is goin on with the H bomb and all, this stuff bothers me."

Roger nods his head"I hear you Marcus, but money is money and if Milly can get a couple hundred out of this guy why worry about it, its not like the FBI will be stoppen in soon."

Marcus hands the photo back to Roger."What else you got?"

Roger looks though the stack and smiles.He pulls three pictures and passes them to Marcus. "Remember Carol Ramoski the redhead with the big tits, well I got three shower scenes when she was in room 103."

Marcus brightens "Yes, Yes I do, she had just had a fight with her boyfreind and took a room for the night." Marcus looks at the photos. "My god you got her in the shower shaving her pussy, she doesn't even have the curtain closed all the way. How did you get this piture?"

"Well as you know 103 has two AC grills in the bathroom one in the front and one in the back. I have a East German Praktica with a Telephoto len. The damn thing is about a foot and a half long. Room 105 right next door has a matching grill in its bathroom. I took the grill out of 105 and shot through the grill of 103."

Marcus smiles and hands back the photos. "You got any of Bobby?"

Roger looks sheepishly at Marcus. "Marcus do you think I would bring you pictures of my wife, naked or other wise?"

Marcus looks down saddly" I suppose not, she is a special gal, that one there. Still if you got any you would like to share, I would take them off your hands, I'll pay top dollar!"

Roger leans back and considers the idea" Top dollar, Bobby would have to know I mean what we do here is buisness, with my wife it would be personal, she would have to know!"

"Of coarse, of coarse she should know, pose even, lay out on a bed, say room 103?" Marcus askes witha grin.

Roger stands up and collects his photos and places them in a black leather breifcase. "Marcus I will be around, let me know when Stan comes back. I'll get some close in shot of Milly doing him!" Roger turns and walks out of the office and down the hall to the side door.
 
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He'd be dismayed himself and probably stop if he saw the look on Oxana's face. Then again he might not. This last month or two he has allowed himself more and more leeway in what he is willing to do. He is a truly decent man but Johnsonville is Johnsonville. It is the place where pleasures and needs are magnified. The "normal" rules don't apply. He didn't think much of the sign when he passed it but it speaks truth.

Here and now, he has a lissome, beautiful woman bent over in front of him. Her hissed y-ye-yesss is followed by her virgin pussy clamping on him. He supports her weight as she seems to collapse. It is purely instinctual. The undertones in her voice start to register more, but now it is too late...

By keeping her from falling Doc has pulled her up and back a bit. In their current positions, it makes up his mind for both of them. His cock is still edging forward when she is suddenly sheathing him, tearing quickly and easily through her hymen with it providing not even a second of resistance. He reacts instinctively again. He drives into her hard, deep, not stopping til he is pressed right against her cervix, his precum now coating her womb, along with her blood. He grinds then a moment before realizing that is where he is, for there is still an inch and a half of his length not within her. On top of it, he still hadn't fully decided to. He was going to ask her opinion, once he realized what he was doing at least. It is far too late now though.

Her name is a whispered grunt of pleasure against her ear. His own body is tensed, muscles straining, barely held in check. His hearts races, beating so loudly in his ears, but completely ignored. The tip of his tongue traces the shell, the lobe of hers as he waits, letting her adjust to the sudden intrusion, the sudden entrance to womanhood.

His eyes narrow, heavily lidded with desire. His cock throbs in her, twitching, aching for release, for the pleasure of spraying it's precious cargo deep into her womb. He resists slamming into her again and again til he does exactly that. He continues the slide up her body til his hands are beneath her brassiere. He gently gropes her breasts, quietly murmuring. "Oh God... They're perfect handfuls. Your nipples are so hard between my fingers. Your quim fits me like a wet, silken glove."

His lips move once again, trailing along her throat, following the line of her clothing, leaving small kisses, bites, moving over the back of her neck. He is enthralled by her. His mouth doesn't stop, giving her right side the same treatment, laving, sucking, and nipping. This time, he bites hard at her throat, sucking fiercely, not stopping til there is a very small, but very very dark bruise surrounding the imprint of his front teeth.
 
Roger Ray

As Ray was walking away from the Raibow Lounge he is thinking about what Marcus had preposed. The taking pictures of his wife didn't both him all that much. He was sure that Bobby would go allong. His concern was that of the Sheriff Wiliam Powers. Sheriff "Big Willy" Powers had a hand in everything here in Johnsonville. If he didn't 'get his peice' he could shut down anyone.

Roger walked up Maple Street to Main Street. The wind has shifter and he could smell cooking coming from the diner. It made him hungry, but he knew he had to talk to the sheriff be for he eat. Soon he was at the Sheriff's office and he walks in.

Deputy Carl Beeks sat behind a desk looking at a news paper. Carl Beeks had to be the ugliest man it the town of Johnsonville. No one would give him a job so the Sheriff hired him to scare the residents into complying to his wishes. The story goes that Doc Jonathin had punched him in the face just as he was born and that his father took over after that.

"Howdy Carl the sheriff in I got business with him?" Carl grunted." He caught Penny Cartwright in the act of given head to Stan Winkel about an hour ago."

Roger put a couple fingers up to his mouth. " The Communist, that Stan Winkel?"

Carl put down his paper. "Yup, the very one, they were down by Fisherman's Bay. The Sheriff thinks they were there to meet a Commie sub and give them our secrets. He's in the back hav'n a chat with Penny now."

Roger smiles."You think the Sheriff would mind if I took a few picture of him chatting to Penny?"

Carl picked up his paper and continued to read an acticle on the newest radios that some officers in the big cities were getting. "Give him a few minutes, he askes me to change the music every few minutes."

"Change the music?" Roger asks.

"Yeah, he likes ta set the mood for his chats." Carl offers.
 
Bobby Ray

Bobby Ray was having a great day - like usual. She had just finished the lunch rush - the first third of her shift - and was already up almost ten bucks. Dinner would even busier, and she was looking forwards to it. Bobbi Ray was taking a relaxing breather, sprawled loosely on Mr. Davidson's lap. He was sitting on a stool at the counter and had turned out to face the diner. A half dozen folks were still lounging around, savoring their last cokes or malteds, chatting - or in Sam Blockley's case, doing the daily crossword from the Johnsonville Journal.

Mr. Davidson had Bobbi Ray's buttocks nestled against his crotch, and her feet propped on top of his knees. This position rucked her skirt up her thighs, leaving her upper legs and crotch area visible. Her breasts had popped her button-up blouse open and were swelling between her thighs. Mr. Davidson had pulled her naughty peek-a-boo lace panties to one side, revealing Bobbi Ray's silken smooth pudendum to the gathering at large. Mr. Davidson was running tickling fingertips between the fluted, velvety ribbons of Bobby Ray's outer lips - the caresses making her squirm and whimper in a most gratifying manner atop his lap. The physical stimulation had drawn a soft sheen of moisture that was spreading onto his fingers and up and down her rippling, quivering quim. Her movements were grinding the cleft of her buttocks up and down her Mr. Davidson's rigid pole, and he was grunting in time with her jerking cries and every twist and buck of her hips.

The diners door swung open and a tall figure blocked the afternoon sun for several long moments, assessing the tableau inside. Then the door swung shut, and a shaggy-headed figure in bib overalls shuffled his way over to Bobbi Ray and Mr. Davidson.

"Hey, Bobby Ray," drawled a basso version of her own voice.

"He-ey Bubba Ray," panted out Bobby Ray, attempting to catch her breath. Mr. Davidson, feeling ornery, took this opportunity to thrust a thick thumb into her gaping slit, making Bobby Ray squeal in pleasure and writhe wildly. Mr. Davidson - and several others - chuckled, and then he withdrew it from her clasping sheath, brandishing his wetly glistening digit to the diner at large. There were some cheers all around, and Bobby Ray laughed with them at herself. Bubba Ray, her towering brother, leaned down and planted a noisy kiss on her lips. The smacking sound that ensued, however, was from the sharp little smack that his broad palm laid down across Bobby Ray's splayed sex. It was a smacking, noisy one - its impetus softened by her squelching moisture.

"Bad kitty," Bubba Ray drawled - eliciting another round of chuckles from the room. "Bobby Ray Wilson Ray, your kitty is naughty," he repeats slowly - using her full married name. He punctuated this statement with another slap - this one sounding louder and wetter than the prior. Bobby Ray tossed her head, groaning and sobbing with need.

"Aw gawd, naw it ain't, my little lady is so good, Bubba Ray, she's just so hungry," she whimpered - lewdly hunching her hips forward as if in emphasis, the movement making her her silken, sopping inner lips spasm and wetly wink as she writhes.
 
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