When I was in college, I got a summer job at a farm in western Wisconsin owned by a Father/Son (real) team. My second week on farm, I wend out into the fields to beat off, as I had not other outlet except the bunkhouse latrine and caught the son fucking his father. It took me another week to actually approach them, I spent most of the summer playing with them and the next two summers when I returned to work for them.
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Yeah, cause I know we all wore studded leather arm bands when we did our chores. LMAO.
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