Give me all of your juice


The bell rang insistently and I opened the front door to reveal two young men in their late teens or early twenties, one a slim but broad shouldered dirty blonde and the other, seemingly older, a more substantial, muscular brunette sporting a heavy five o’clock shadow.

“Hi, Mr. Acuff,” the older one said. “We have a proposition for you.”

I put the obvious response out of my mind. I knew these “kids” quite well. They were the Standish boys and had been my next door neighbors for ten years. I had watched them grow up. Their parents were jerks, but the kids were O.K. Both were fine students and terrific athletes. The younger one, Kevin, was a sprinter and, Kurt, a year older, was a vaulter. Both had been state level in high school, with Kurt taking the championship on the high bar, and Kevin finishing second overall in the 100 meters. Both had moved up to the University of Minnesota on athletic scholarships.

For several years, they had been employed in the summer by the company that cut my grass (and which also plowed my driveway in our cold, cold winters). Kurt, as always the more voluble, announced that they would be forming their own lawn care business with a bunch of friends from high school. He said that they could offer me a substantial discount on what I was used to paying.

The figure they quoted was about two-thirds of what I had been paying, but I was worried. I asked what would happen in September when they went back to school. Kurt assured me that other members of the consortium lived locally year round and would be available to cut the lawn until it became dormant in late October

Shit! I liked my lawn company but I couldn’t say no to these kids. When I called my regular lawn guy to tell him, he was cool. Apparently, this sort of thing happened to him all the time. Call when they wuse out on you, was all he said.

Three weeks later, I found myself surprisingly satisfied. If anything these guys did a better job than my regular company, especially trimming around the hardscape. They came in waves (no double entendre intended). The guy riding the powered standup mowers arrived first. Then the detail guys arrived about a half hour later to get into places with push mowers and string trimmers that the bigger machine missed. The Standish boys were nearly always on the finishing detail.

I probably got special attention because I was their next door neighbor, but even if that were not true, I was happy for other reasons. Instead of the grizzled losers I was used to see mowing my lawn, I got to watch a parade of hot young men wandering about my yard every week. May was especially hot that year. Global warming? I didn’t care. It meant that they all had their shirts off and sweat likewell like men.

On this occasion, Kurt moved on with the cutting team leaving Kevin behind to finish the trimming. I watched him from my study. He had the lean muscular form of a sprinter, but with the larger rib cage of a distance runner and broad shoulders like his brother and father. His torso was absolutely hairless. His pecs weren’t heavily developed, but they made for chiseled, hairless planes with neat, pert nipples at the apices. If you looked closely you could discern a hint of a treasure trail made up of fine hairs nearly the same color has his body with its new golden tan. When he was done with his work at about 4:30, he came up to my patio door and knocked.

“Here, Mr. Acuff,” he said with characteristic sheepishness as he handed me my bill. Sweat dripped profusely down his face, torso and bare legs. All he wore were a pair of nylon running shorts and old running shoes with no socks. The shorts were soaked to below the waistband from the sweat running down his flat, muscled stomach.

“You look shot, Kevin,” I said. “How many more yards do you have to do today?”

“This was my last one. The others went to take the big equipment to the garage we rent. I’ll just throw the trimmer in my car and take it along tomorrow morning.

“Well then, c’mon in and have a beer.” I knew he was only eighteen or nineteen, but old enough to vote and old enough to die In any event, he didn’t demur.

I like to keep the air conditioning on high. When Kevin stepped into the cold living room, he shivered and his nipples quickly stood pointed and proud from his chest.

“If you’re cold, we can drink on the patio,” I offered.

“Hell no,” he shot back. “I’ve had enough of the heat. I’ll adjust.” I offered to lend him a T shirt, but he declined. When I brought out the beers, I found him sitting on one of the two facing leather love seats. His sweat probably wasn’t doing the leather much good, but kids that age don’t think too much about those kinds of things. I didn’t much care, anyway. I was more interested in examining him. He was lounged with an arm across the back of the seat and his right ankle propped on his left knee. His shorts were loose enough to open slightly at the thigh and revealed that he was going kamikaze, with the tip of the sheath of his uncut cock dimly visible and resting on a very respectable pair of balls.

I gave myself a mental shake of the head. This was Kevin, for Christ’s sake! I raised my gaze to his face. Not much better. He was quite the beaut. Lean angled face. High cheek bones. He kept his blonde hair long and it suited him. I had noticed it all before of course, but only in an aesthetic way. (Yeah. Right!) Anyway, I found him looking at me with a wry smile. I asked him about school. Going well, he said. Good grades. Good friends. And the running? Not so good. Tougher competition than he’d ever faced. He only finished in the top three at two meets against weak opponents. Kurt was doing great though. Kevin thought that in two years, he’d be invited to tryout for the U.S. Olympics. There was no hint of envy—just pride in his sibling’s accomplishments. This was a damned fine kid.

I got us another beer. We talked some more. Then I brought out a third. Air conditioning or no, the beer was making me hot, so I unbuttoned the top three buttons on my shirt, revealing my dark mat of chest hair. Kevin squirmed in his seat, reaching down to adjust his junk. His shorts were tented now and his dark cockhead had crept out beyond his foreskin, closer to the bottom opening. I could not break my gaze. My own cock was rising and I too had to make an adjustment. Neither of us was talking anymore. For what seemed like an hour but was probably only a few minutes, we sat breathing heavily in silence. Then, he stood and walked over to me.

His cock was now nearly fully erect and had lifted the hem of his shorts on his left side. As he hardened further, they slid back nearly to the base, completely revealing his pendant sac. He straddled my knees and pushed his hips forward until the perfectly formed crimson head pressed against my lips. I opened them and took him in. My hands reached of their own accord behind him and clutched at his rock hard glutes. He grabbed two handfuls of my hair and leaned further into me. I felt the upper part of his cockhead slide across my palette until it pressed insistently at the muscles guarding my esophagus.

It would be easy. He had a healthy length—seven and a half inches (maybe a smidgen more)—but he was not all that thick. I pulled him into me and opened my throat to his unsheathed lance. As I worked his shaft, I unbuttoned my pants and pulled out my own cock: cut, about 6 ½ inches but thicker than his. Clutching my hair, he plowed my gullet in deep long strokes. I worked my throat muscles, trying to tease out his juices, all the while fumbling to get out of my clothes.

Interrupting my ministrations for a second, I pulled down on his shorts and they dropped to his ankles. When I took him back into my mouth, I ran my hands over his long muscled thighs, ending with them once again on his taught ass. One finger ran deeper until it massaged his clenched hole. I began to plan how to get him upstairs to my room and to the condoms and the lube. Suddenly, he pulled away and his member plopped from my mouth. Just as I thought that it was time to make my move, he dropped to his knees between my spread legs. Expecting reciprocation, I was mildly surprised when he grabbed my legs behind the knees and lifted upward, not so much roughly as insistently. I slipped down in the love seat with my head awkwardly askew and my chin tucked tightly against my chest.

Kevin pushed my knees against my pecs and dove straight into my exposed opening. His tongue flitted tentatively at my rosette. I shuddered and my cock spasmed in response. After having had a taste of me, Kevin went deep. Gawd, he was good! As his nose and tongue explored my insides, I put all my new formed plans aside and enjoyed the experience. He went on like that for about five minutes. Precum oozed liberally from the tip of my member. When he pulled his face away, I had some idea of what was to come. He gathered the small pool, thin but sticky, from my belly and slapped it into my crack, working it well into my opening with a finger. Then, he slathered an equal amount of his own pre-juice onto the shaft of his tool and pressed the head against my anus. No condom; no lube. If Kevin was a danger to me, I didn’t care. As I tried to open for him, I knew it would hurt. I wanted it to hurt. And it did.

I tried to open up as he pushed into me, but his cockhead got caught on an non-lubricated fold of skin. Instead of pulling back, he pressed on, his bulb scraping my skin, trying to move me into me. I grabbed my cheeks and pulled them wide. He thrust forward, I screamed and, suddenly, he was in. His movement didn’t stop when the head penetrated. In one continuous motion, he lunged in until his hip bones slapped into my ass. A terrible cramp wracked my gut.

Sensing my pain, Kevin paused. I ran my hands over his shoulder blades and down his back. He tilted his head quizzically, looking into my tear filled eyes. I nodded and he pulled about halfway out. He followed with another hard thrust that ended with an audible slap of flesh. I dug my fingernails into his back, causing a visible wince. He withdrew until only the head was captured and plunged back in. The precum was largely gone and the scrape of flesh against flesh burned both of us. God, I had not had sex this raw in a dozen years! (And in prior encounters, I had been on Kevin’s end of the operation.)

When the boy next pulled back, I grabbed his ass and muscled him back into me. Again and again, I pulled him in with all my might. It was as if I were doing this to myself, causing my own pain and my own ecstasy. We had said nothing to one another since well before I had first taken him into my mouth, but our noisy breathing was synchronized with the motions of our bodies, heavily vocalized on desperate intakes and explosive exhalations.

Having decided that I could not take much more, I tried to make him cum, not quite realizing how close I was myself. Without warning I erupted in long ropey strings that hit us both in our faces and covered my chest and belly. He pumped a few more times before I felt the first rush of warm fluid inside me. The pain lessened almost immediately as the cum lubricated the interface between us. I was barely aware of the last half dozen thrusts he made to drain himself.

I was still pressed into the loveseat, knees to chest with my head bent awkwardly. Kevin, still hard as rock, leaned into me and began licking the jism off my face. I eagerly returned the favor. Only then did he withdraw, leaving me with an unexplainable feeling of emptiness, save for the liquid draining from my savaged pucker. Kevin licked the cum off my hair chest, then turned his attention to my throbbing asshole. He cleaned me of the effluent that had leaked out then gently tongued my raw muscle. It felt wonderful. Finally, he forced his tongue through the opening to draw out more from its container. I pushed gently to give it to him.

When he withdrew his face from between my legs, he stood and turned me lengthwise on the love seat so that my head was resting comfortably on one heavily padded arm and my legs draped over the other. He sat down next to me on the edge of the seat and I shifted over to give him a wider perch. He smiled and bent down over my face. When I opened my mouth to accept his kiss, he released a large volume into my mouth. Apparently he had saved it all: my cum, his, and whatever else he had scooped up. Using our tongues, we exchanged the pungent brew for a few seconds, before we both swallowed. He pulled away, regarded me intently then brought his face down to kiss me again. Something in my peripheral vision caused me to glance toward the patio door.

There stood Kurt with a look of absolute fury on his face.

I squirmed in my chair as I emailed the last corrections to a Maxim article that was nearly past deadline. Frankly, my ass still hurt. Since my rough encounter yesterday with my hot college-age neighbor, Kevin, I had been walking around in that lopey John Wayne way. (Maybe his ass hurt, too.) Not that I was complaining, mind you. If plowing me was the kind of tip Kevin was expecting for mowing my grass, then I was all too glad to oblige. I don’t bottom very often, but for Kevin, I’d make an exception. Still, I was worried about his older brother, Kurt. At the end of our hot session, I had seen a very unhappy Kurt watching us through the patio door. He spun away and trotted over to their house before Kevin noticed. Ever discrete, I said nothing.

There was knock on the patio door, and I was almost sure who it would be. I opened it and said, “Come on in, Kurt. I figured you’d want to talk.”

Kurt was sturdier and slightly taller than his brother: about 6’2″ (my height), beautifully developed shoulders and delts, great biceps and corded arms, full chest swelling and falling under a nylon A-shirt, muscled thighs reaching down below matching nylon shorts with Minnesota colors. The shorts did not drape evenly down his thighs. On his left side, they were interrupted substantially, even dramatically, by … well, guess. His weight was hard to judge because there appeared to be not an ounce of fat on him. I’d bet he was a lot heavier than he looked. Still, he wasn’t muscle bound. Every part of his frame was geared toward putting it over the bar as a champion pole vaulter.

I took all this in with one quick casual glance. I’d had plenty of time absorbing it more thoroughly when he was working on my lawn. Kurt stepped in and slid the door closed behind him. I looked him straight in the eye. He was dark haired and brown eyed with exquisitely chiseled features like his old man. As usual, he was sporting a substantial five o’clock shadow that helped intensify his don’t-screw-with-me-and-I won’t-screw-with-you attitude. I don’t mean to say that he was an asshole, like his father. He wasn’t, but he carried himself with similar authority. That made me more than a little uneasy. I had the feeling he thought I’d screwed with him.

“Why’d you fuck my brother?” was all he said.

Well, he had to have seen that it was the other way around, but I didn’t think it was wise to quibble on that particular point. I didn’t respond, and he continued. “My brother is the most important person in my life. You know what my parents are like. We both got the shit kicked out of us when we were younger.” I did recall a lot of “bike accidents” and “falling out of trees” that no one witnessed. The two were widely regarded as the two most injury prone kids in the neighborhood.

“That stopped for both of us when I returned the favor to my old man.” I remembered now the week that Stan spent in the hospital when he allegedly fell off a ladder while painting the stairwell: concussion, broken jaw, broken clavicle, broken femur, internal bleeding. It was touch and go for a while. Kurt was still speaking, “I look out for my little brother all the time, so I’m going to repeat myself: why did you fuck him?”

“Look, Kurt,” I answered. “It’s just something about me. I keep it quiet, and it’s the reason for my divorce. It was always there, but”

He waved me off. “We know all about you, Mr. Acuff. Kevin and I have been watching men parade in and out your house late at night for eight years: cars parked in the driveway all night, leaving early in the morning. The rest of the neighborhood may be oblivious to it, but our room is right next to your driveway. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. And I’m not Sigmund Freud, either. I don’t care why you fuck men. I want to know why you picked Kevin.”

Funny, he really didn’t seem angry; more like depressed. “It just happened, Kurt. I didn’t plan it, if that’s what you think. He was just there.” I was at a loss for words. I did invite Kevin in for a beer, but I hadn’t planned for anything to happen. Or had I?

“Well, I’m here, too, Mr. Acuff. Why not me? What’s wrong with this?” Kurt crossed his arms, stripped off his A-shirt with one smooth motion, revealing the sculpted details of this chest and his six—no, eight—pack, part of the machine that propelled him over ever higher bars in championship meets. “Or this?” he continued as he pulled down his shorts to reveal about five fat inches of (almost) flaccid meat without showing any hint of the head.

“Nothing,” I whispered stepping forward and placing one hand on that spectacular chest. “It’s all perfect, Kurt. I had no idea.”

“Well, you know now,” he replied expectantly.

What else could I do? I moved my hand behind his head, and guided his mouth to mine. He accepted my tongue gratefully, toying with it in his own mouth but not. I let my other hand slip behind the waistband of his shorts. It felt like I’d grabbed a fencepost. I slid my hand down, first finding the edge of Kurt’s sheath, then much farther down the bulbous head. It hardened quickly as I stroked it, the head now protruding well beyond the stretched sheath. Even without seeing it, I knew it had to be well over eight inches. I dropped to my knees and pulled the young man’s shorts down, nearly losing an eye as his unconstrained rod snapped out and slapped me in the face.

He had no pubic hair framing his package, and none on the plum-sized gonads hanging down below the exposed tool. I realized that, given his heavy facial shadow, he must shave or wax his entire body regularly. In fact, he was so smooth that he must have done it (or had it done to him) in the last day or two. I grabbed the impressive organ with my left hand and licked at the tip, already oozing with precum. The taste was perfect and I quickly engulfed the bulbous head with my mouth. I let my right hand trace the contours of his abs and chest. I found a nipple and tweaked it hard. The cock in my mouth twitched, but he pulled my head back.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he suggested, “where we can be more comfortable.” That was fine with me, since I had lube and rubbers upstairs. I did not want to undergo another dry fuck like I did with his brother the day before, especially not when he was packing so much meat.

He turned and I followed him across the room to the stairs. As he climbed in front of me, I got in my first good examination of his naked ass. As I expected, it was as near perfect as the rest of his body. Each muscular orb undulated and beckoned me. I could not resist and I raised my hand to stroke the length of his crack. He turned, flashed me a 1000 watt smile and winked. I had never seen him smile like that. Kurt always seemed so serious. When he reached the top of the stairs, he immediately headed for the master bedroom, the third door on the left.

As I entered the room, I found him raising the blind on the side window. “Want to be able to see what we’re doing,” he said simply.

Kurt moved to the bed and lay in the center on his back. He raised his right hand above his head, wrist resting on his forehead, exposing his deep armpit. His right leg was askew, making a nearly right angle at the hip and again at the knee. It was a practiced pose, worthy of a Playboy centerfold, excepts that the tits were hard muscle instead of silicone and that the groin sported a huge cock, extended but no longer completely hard, following the upward crease of his groin well past the limits of the pelvic bone. He smiled again and beckoned me with his left hand. I sat, fully clothed, on the edge of the bed and ran my hand over his chest and abs. He pulled my shirt from my pants and slid his own hand underneath.

“You work out,” he said matter-of-factly, “Where?”

“I have a small gym in the basement,” I answered. “A Bowflex, works pretty well, but I like to add free weights.”

“I’ve never used a Bowflex,” he answered. “I’d like to try it.”

“And I’d like to watch you doing it.” I leaned down and kissed him. He put his hands behind my head and flicked his tongue between my open lips. I responded by plunging my tongue deep into his mouth. He played with it for a while, then pulled my head away examining my face intently

“You are very handsomeDaddy.”

Daddy? Daddy!? At 38 and looking younger (or so they tell me), I thought I had quite a few years to go before I had to play the Daddy card to get young men into bed with me. Nevertheless, it was a plausible conceit. The nineteen year old body next me could certainly father a child, so I myself could well have a son that age. I had never wanted children beforebut an offspring who was also nineteen year old hunk certainly had its attractions.

“And you, Son,” I replied, “have an incredible smile to go with that incredibly beautiful body.” The boy beamed like a six year old being told “good job”. I stripped off my shirt and straddled him, once again running my hands over that well delineated torso. His own hands ran up my chest settling on my pecs. He kneaded the muscles then squeezed and twisted the nipples, not all that gently. It was exquisite torture. I leaned back, grinding my ass into his pelvis and feeling the hardness of his fat rod against the seat of my jeans. The head stuck out beneath me, throbbing purple and angry. It occurred to me that I should take him like this. Given the size of the beast, I couldn’t afford to give him free reign with my ass as I did his brother. First, however, I wanted a taste of it.

I slid down to take it in, when I heard. “Show me your cock, Daddy. Please Daddy, I want it see it very badly.” He was taking this Daddy/Son thing very seriously, and, surprisingly, I was kind of intrigued by it all. I got off the bed, stripped off my jeans and knelt back on the bed close to his head. “Can I touch it, Daddy? Can I?” I nodded and his put his fist around it, or tried to anyway. My cock was only a little longer than his brother Kevin’s, but it had ample girth. “It’s big Daddy, and it has a lot of hair. Will mine get that big when I grow up?” Glancing down at the rigid monster sprouting from his groin, I told him that his would be at least as big, probably bigger. He beamed again.

“Can I put it in my mouth, Daddy?” he pleaded. I asked if he were a good boy. He frowned. “Not all the time, but I’ll be a very good boy today. I promise. I really promise.” I told him that I was sure of that.

I didn’t want to be denied my own need, so I straddled his head facing the lower part of his body. I leaned down until my face was level with his cock. Kurt immediately put his soft mouth around mine. I told him he was a good, good boy. Then, I turned my attentions to the boy meat lying naked along his belly. Thoroughly shaven as he was, Kurt seemed very much the preternaturally gifted child. The head was already oozing a clear fluid giving evidence to the boy’s excitement. I flicked my tongue at the tip to get a taste. His cock lurched at my touch and he gave a muffled squeal. Suddenly he was spurting all over my face. I swore in surprise.

“Oh fuck!” he exclaimed. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I stood next to the bed, face covered in strings of boy cum. “Not only did you make a mess of me,” I chided, “but you also used bad language. Get off that bed, now!”

He stood facing me, eyes on the floor. I pulled him roughly across my lap, adjusting his body so that the heads of our cocks were in intimate contact. He had not softened after his ejaculation. I caressed the exposed muscular orbs, then raised my right hand high above my head and brought it down hard. The sound of the slap echoed from the walls and Kurt yelped in a very satisfying fashion. I raised it again and brought it down even harder on the other cheek.

“Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again,” I warned sternly.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” he cried. “I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t help it. Don’t be mad at me. Please!”

“Well, a big boy like you has to start showing some responsibility,” I said ominously. “Maybe this will make you more careful in the future.”

Thwap! My hand came down again. Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Suddenly I felt a twitch against my cock and then a flood of thick liquid. It wasn’t mine. The kid had come again—probably only two or three minutes after the first eruption! I stood and he tumbled to the floor. He scrambled to his knees, tears streaming down his face. White gummy fluid was smeared over his abdomen and my left leg. I took his face in my hands.

“What am I going to do with you, boy?” I asked disingenuously, now knowing full well exactly what I was going to do with him.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” he cried. “I don’t mean to be bad Daddy. Please love me.”

He plunged his head my groin, face turned sideways trapping my hard cock under his cheek and hugging me around the waist. It was both pathetic and endearing, making me want him more than ever. I disentangled myself and pulled his head toward the melting pool dripping down my thigh. Without being told, he rapidly cleaned me with his tongue then moved to my face and chest, where some of the draining fluid from his first outburst had dripped. I raised him to his feet and guided him gently to a prostrate position across the bed, first stuffing two pillows under his hips. His legs dangled over the edge. I reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. Looking down at the twin mounds of muscular flesh beckoning me, I threw the condom back into the drawer.

I knelt behind him, placed my hands on either globe thumbs nearly touching, and spread them apart. Revealed was a beautiful, light brown iris begging for penetration. I put my nose to it and inhaled. He hadn’t shit lately, but it had been long enough since his last shower that a delicious musky odor filled my lungs. I let the tip of my tongue touch the entry point. Kurt moaned loudly in satisfaction. I couldn’t hold back any more, and I plunged deeply into his portal.

“Oh, Daddy,” he exclaimed. “That feels soooo good. Do it some more. Please, more.”

I continued my frenzied work, opening him with my tongue and tasting his interior. “Love me more, Daddy,” he begged. “Love me too much!”

That was it! I stood and filled my hand with lube, then approached his waiting ass. I pressed my throbbing cockhead against his hole. “Do it, Daddy,” the boy pleaded. “Do it now! I want to make you feel good.” I pushed and the head slipped past the obstruction. Grabbing his hips, I plunged in hard until my hips slapped loudly against his buttocks. “Owwww,” he screamed. I stopped. “No, Daddy,” he panted. “I’m OK. Do it again. Make me pay for my mistakes.” I was all the encouragement I needed. I backed out and thrust forward again as hard as I could. He howled—I couldn’t tell whether in pain or ecstasy, but in the moment, I didn’t much care. My answer came quickly. “Love me, Daddy! Love me a lot! Love me very hard!” So I did. Unremittingly, for a good ten minutes, I banged that ass as hard and deep as my muscles and my equipment would let me. The lube thinned out. The thought of withdrawing, even for a few seconds, was not appealing, so I let myself go. From deep within, I could feel my jism rising. I began to spurt into his cavity.

“Oh yes, Daddy!” The boy erupted. “Give me all of your juice. Make me stronger. Make me more like you.” I didn’t count the strokes, but there were a lot and at the end, I was drained as I had ever been. I collapsed against his back, still inside him. I let my right hand tousle his hair as he whimpered quietly beneath me. I pulled out and turned him on his side, so we could lie face to face. His face was wet with spent tears.

“I made a mess on the bed, Daddy,” he said contritely. By God, the kid had come yet again! Where did he get it all? It was all right I told him. I wanted him to come this time. He smiled wanly in response.

“Do you love me, Daddy?” he asked. “Am I a good boy?”

“You are a very good boy,” I answered truthfully, “and I love you a lot.” I surprised to find that I wasn’t bullshitting him about that either. At that moment, I really did. I kissed away his tears and then gave him another deep kiss on the mouth. We lay still for about ten minutes when he got up and went to the window. He beckoned with his hand. Beyond him and across my driveway was his brother Kevin hanging out an upstairs window, grinning broadly and holding a professional looking video camera with a huge telephoto lens. Kurt rejoined me in bed.

A few minutes later we heard the sound of the patio door sliding open, then the sound of footsteps up the stairs. The door to the room opened and in stepped Kevin, camera held to his face.

“Here are the lovers in post conjugal bliss. He said loudly. Putting down the camera, he continued. “That was hot, boys. Wanna watch it?”

We did.

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