...seeing the way his trousers clung to those most English parts.
On the forest floor was the LVR's smoldering ceiling panel, just lying there like the lid of a sardine can that had been eagerly and violently thrown away by someone who very much liked sardines.
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On the forest floor was the LVR's smoldering ceiling panel, just lying there like the lid of a sardine can that had been eagerly and violently thrown away by someone who very much liked sardines.
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