wherewecome: “God, I love fucking him,” she said later, wrapped in my arms. “Why is that?” I asked, caressing her cheek in the darkness. “He doesn’t love me or hate me. He doesn’t hurt me or baby me. He doesn’t need

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wherewecome: “God, I love fucking him,” she said later, wrapped in my arms. “Why is that?” I asked, caressing her cheek in the darkness. “He doesn’t love me or hate me. He doesn’t hurt me or baby me. He doesn’t need

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