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From: Sandy Petersen
Subject: RE:
Date: Thu, 15 Mar 2007 13:39:56 -0800
User-agent: Thunderbird (Windows/20061207)

Sweet teen gets face blasting after fuck


!!!A*D*U*L*T*S    O*N*L*Y!!!

The day before he went back to his own home, now so strange to him, he was out with her, searching for some lost turkey-chicks, and found one with its foot caught in a tangle of rusty wire. The little creature had beaten itself almost to death in its struggle to get way. Kneeling in the grass, and feeling the wild palpitations of its heart under his rescuing hand, he had called to his sister, Oh, look! Poor thing! Its most dead, and yet it aint really hurt a mite, only desperate, over bein held fast. His voice broke in a sudden wave of sympathy: Oh, aint it terrible to feel so! But now, walking home under the frosty stars, he felt very quiet already, as though he needed no weight to lie heavy on his restless heart. It did not seem restless now, but very still, as though it too were dead. He noticed that the air was milder, and as he crossed the bridge below his house he stopped and listened. Yes, the fine ear of his experience caught a faint grinding sound. By to-morrow the river would begin to break up. It was the end of winter. He surprised himself by his pleasure in thinking of the spring.

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