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Furrowing my brow, I just peered atthe strange strands for a moment before my mind finally caught up withwhat it was seeing. The purple stuff was hair."Wha?" I rasped in a dry, strained voice that was barely a whisper. Eventhe effort of that single syllable made my throat ache, causing me to gagand cringe.Ignoring the pain in my throat, I kept my focus on the hair, reaching upa hand to grab some of it. The locks were fairly long and soft but alittle greasy feeling. I could also feel pressure on my scalp frompulling on it, meaning that it wasn't just hair - it was my hair.Before I could probe further, a cheerful female voice spoke up. "Goodmorning, dear."Ignoring my hair for a moment, I twisted my head around to the voice.It's owner was a mundane looking, middle aged, blonde woman in whatlooked like green medical scrubs. That meant that she was some kind ofnurse or doctor or something.Thoughts of medicine brought back fragmented memories of feeling like Iwas about to die. . The young clergyman had only recently taken up the post; he was in his early 20s and fresh out of Vicaring School. The manse they had given him to stay in was at the far end of the graveyard from the church and a very comfy place it was too. As he was closing his curtains for the night he noticed a lit window at the church and assuming he had left the vestry light on he made his way back across the graveyard.As he entered the side door he saw the flickering of candlelight from inside the two sets of confessional boxes and could hear faint sounds coming from within. Not knowing what was happening, he crept over to one of the doors.As he peeped through the gap he nearly fell over at the sight of what was going on inside.A man was stood facing the side wall of the confessional; his trousers round his ankles, his cock pushed through a hole in the wooden division, was audibly moaning and speaking words of encouragement to some unseen person.The vicar was so taken aback that he didn’t even.
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Mrs Robson and I worked together on it, so it is a joint recipe, to be accurate.”Charles meanwhile had spoken to his daughters.“Girls, I want you to go into Scarborough with Mr Robertson, Jessica and Sidra. Show them some of the sights and get to know Reg better. I may have a suggestion for you girls when you get back home. Reg will ensure you get home safe.”The two girls were puzzled at this sudden enthusiasm for visiting town, and with their visitors. They decided that their mother and father wanted to be alone with adequate privacy, for some reason, so they went along with the request, having nothing else to do at the time.Charles Robson told his wife that their girls would be going into Scarborough with the three guests, and that Reg would ensure their safe return home. Reg phoned the taxi firm, and explained that there would be an additional two adults for the trip back to Scarborough. The firm happily told him that all their cars could seat five comfortably, and asked when he.

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