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His other hand grabbed me by the hair and I knew I was in for a good old-fashioned Donaldson family face fucking. Oh Robbie, I'm getting so fucking hot watching you.
Look, there's snot dribbling out her nose, exclaimed my sister-in-law, Denise.
Trace used to say that his family considered arms their profession and pain their hobby.
How did a nice girl like me from Lowell, Massachusetts get mixed up with this group of patriotic sadists? My predilection for reaching an orgasm only after a sound flogging had brought Trace Donaldson and I together. As a result, I had a five-year commitment to patch up soldiers in whatever piss poor backwater the Army selected.
Major Clement Donaldson had ended his days at Chickamauga, supposedly standing beside General Thomas, the Rock of Chickamauga until a mini-ball took off part of his skull.
Two Donaldsons gave their all during the War to End All Wars.
A friend who was into what I later learned was termed the lifestyle' put me on to this run down club in So Ho.
The place was a dilapidated dump but once a month, a crowd gathered who could usually satisfy my needs. Andrews cross when Trace and two of his army buddies arrived. I was leaving for training at Fort Campbell next week.
My guess would be that the coffin contained a blend of both Trace and the driver.
Now, that's how a soldier's widow sucks cock, exclaimed Robbie to the others.