YOU'RE WRONG An Irregular Column by Mykel Board In Thailand, guys have attractive little t

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YOU'RE WRONG An Irregular Column by Mykel Board In Thailand, guys have attractive little testicles, like robin's eggs. Hung just right in a hairless silken purse, they're smooth and bite size. You can fit 'em both in your mouth at the same time. That's where they are now. I suck gently on a pair of Thai balls, lying on my side. One hand primes the pump above my mouth. On my other end, the young man attached to those robin's eggs pulls my own hairy hangers, one at a time, into his mouth. On the bed next to me, Lily's breasts glisten with sweat. Her guy, naked, on his stomach, nestles his head between her stretched legs, licking upwards. She puts her hands behind his head, pressing his face deeper into her crotch. My partner and I roll over. He's on his back. I slide around. Head to head. Cock to cock. His tongue pushes into my mouth. I suck it in, swishing it around, tasting my balls on his breath. I reach down between us, fisting the double sausage. Parting lips, I sit on his upper thighs, my hand still wrapped around the twin wieners. Lily's knees are now by her ears. The brown-skinned rump next to me, rises and thrusts between her legs. She breathes heavily, nearly vocally, in time to those thrusts. "Ah, ah, ah," she breathes. The guy beneath me moans, then inhales and holds it. His white stickiness spurts against the smooth brown belly beneath me. To my left, the pumping rhythm moves from waltz through rhumba into hardcore. The juices gather between my own legs. I shudder. Again. Tensing and thrusting, I spew onto the bronze body beneath me. Squirt. Squirt. Squirt. White rockets against his skin. Lily and Lek, her Thai, lie next to us. He's just finished too. She, not quite. They lie in a sweaty heap. My elbow brushes Lily's. Four naked bodies on the bed. One by one we get up to shower. When it's Lily's turn, Lek turns to me. "I don't think she came." he says. "I'll try again." The guy I was with, having washed the evidence of his success off his chest, leaves with a kiss and 500 baht ($20). Lily comes back. There are three of us now. I lean back on the bed. My head rests on my bent right arm. Lily lies down, face up, to my right. Lek lays directly on top of her-- a brown human blanket over her pale skin. He kisses her on the lips, then he slowly slides down her body. He mouths a nipple. His fingers play over the other one. Lily puts her hands under his armpits. Gently, she presses him upwards to a kneeling position-- like a baseball catcher waiting for the ball. Seeing that he's not quite up to the task, Lily lowers her head to his crotch. Me? I watch. Feeling like I've been out for dinner, now it's time for the show. Like a virtual reality porn movie, here I am. With the sights, sounds and smells. Right next to me. A busty blonde and an Oriental. Boing! I'm ready again. Watching and jerking off to my very private performance. Lily has blown the air back into Lek's flaccidity. He's on his back with her astride. Head thrown back, she fondles her own breast as she rides that buckin' bronze bronco. He presses up. She presses down. I rub myself both ways. The show continues with Lily on her back now. His elbows and her knees lean towards the head of the bed. My hand strokes to their beat. She "ah ah ah's" to his "uh uh uh's." They grab each other in the shakes. For the second time in as many hours my prostate squeezes semenally. Lek's does too. After a few post coital moments of affection (no, I didn't kiss my own hand), Lily pays Lek and he leaves. We both fall asleep-- big smiles on our faces. "Tomorrow a girl," I whisper before unconsciousness. "Mmmmmm" says Lily. We had hired the two guys from one of the local homobars. When Lily walked in they flocked to her. Hands all over her, they felt her roundness to see if it was real. They loved her. Wouldn't leave her alone. They left me alone, though. She took the one who caressed her the most. I took the skinniest. Yep, I'm back from Thailand. Gone a month, with a year's worth of adventures. Travelling with Ms. Lily, (former?) MRR columnist, writer, editrix of Taste of Latex, sex worker, busty, platinum blonde, white skinned. Lily's smart. That means she agrees with me on almost everything. Ideologically, we're two balls in the same scrotum. She's pro-sex, anti-stupidity (read lefty fundamentalist feminists) and funny. Still, we have our differences. Me, being short, balding, Jewish, well-travelled and adventure seeking. Her being... well... her. For example, for me, food is part of the adventure. I'll eat most anything that doesn't move while I eat it. (And even there, there are LOTS of exceptions.) I like to eat at little roadside stands, weird places with nothing on the menu in English. Hot, sweet, bitter, the weirder the better. I managed to have python, wild boar and plenty of mystery meat on this trip. Lily is less adventurous. In Bangkok, home of biting hot Oriental food-- it was pizza-- four times. In Hat Yai, a southern Thai city, where the food cultures of China, North and South Thailand come together-- Colonel Sanders. In Penang, Malaysia-- home of the worlds best Chinese, Indian, and Malay cooking-- A&W. Sometimes there were other reasons that life was not so easy. We walk down a narrow sidewalk in Bangkok. I'm a few steps ahead, walking slightly faster. "I'm not walking twelve steps in back," yells Lily from behind, "I'm not your whore." From then on, I'm the one who walks behind. Most difficult is learning to cope with being invisible. When a sparrow and a peacock travel together-- few people notice the sparrow. It doesn't help that Lily dresses up in nightclub clothes with high heels to stroll downtown. Once, while walking through Phat Phong, the Bangkok sex club district, the crowd on the street spontaneously breaks into applause when Lily passes. I hold my hand in front of my face to make sure I'm still there. I can see right through it. I'm even invisible to Lily. In a pizzeria, I explain to her the exotic nuances of African linguistic ability. She responds to a spot about six inches above my left shoulder. She's not talking, actually, just uh-huhning and mmm-hmmming. I turn around to look at the booth behind us. An attractive Thai youth suddenly wipes the smile from his face. At the Malaysian border, Lily charms us right through customs. They don't even look at our bags. The mustachioed guard just goo goo eyes Lily. "She's very beautiful," he says to me, "you should marry her." "He'd regret it in a minute." she answers for me. This isn't made any easier by the vehemence with which Lily denies all but the most casual relationship between us. We go to Casanova, a notorious Bangkok transvestite/transsexual bar. Outside, girls of all genders wait for customers. Giggly and grabby, they reach for Lily when we pass. We walk in. More girls flock to her, squeezing her breasts, comparing them with their own. Then someone notices me. "Is he your husband?" she asks. "No!" says Lily. "Your boyfriend?" Lily scrunches up her nose in a what?-Me?-with-him? look. "No, just a friend." "You have boyfriend?" continues the interrogation. "Yes," says the blonde bombshell, "he's tall with muscles and long hair..." Later, Lily is the hit of the night. She climbs on the bar and slowly strips to her real-girl breasts. The working girls are delighted. Some of the regular customers are concerned. They don't expect "that kind of girl in a place like this." Lily expertly shakes her ampleness as she crawls along the stage behind the bar. She grabs the smooth pole and thrusts it between her legs, sliding up and down while expertly licking her lips. The girls scream their approval. One asks for an autograph. Me? I pass easily through the wall and wait for my molecules to reassemble. I do have one moment of peacockhood. It's at the James Dean bar in Phuket. (Yes, that's really the name of the island. Although it's pronounced Pooget.) The bar's a merry place where there are no professionals-- just casual relationships. Lily came and danced for the boys. It was fun and they screamed in delight. But she grew tired early and left. Now-- they're all over me. They climb on the bar stools on either side. A pretty, slightly effeminate, boy gives me a back massages. Soon double pairs of hands grope in my lap, stroking my stroker. "You come toilet with me." begs a suave looking boy next to me, "only a minute. No problem." "No, you come with me," says another one, pulling on my zipper. Unfortunately, this is the same night we had been to the massage parlor (more about that later). Normally, I'd be in the men's room in a second. That night, I'm peckered out. But the thought's there. They want me! Ah well, I'm getting ahead of myself. The day after that first Bangkok homobar, we go to a girlbar. There are lots of 'em-- girls, that is. Little numbers are pinned onto their clothes-- whenever they had on clothes. A bunch of 'em are on stage now. It's hot, soaking. One looks even sexier than the rest. Narrow hips, a tough pouty smile, just handful size breasts. She doesn't look at me though. Then comes the show. A short smiley-faced girl runs onto the now empty stage. She carries a banana. She peels it. Holding it in front of her like a gun, she offers it to the audience. Five guys each take a bite out of it. The banana's gone. Then she undresses. Another skinless banana appears. She pushes it between her legs. With a sound somewhere between a fart and an uzi, she squirts it out over her head. Retrieving it, she does it again. And again. With the same banana. Then, she takes it to the audience members who ate the first one. "You eat?" she asks. There are no takers. Now, things get interesting. A fire show. Four naked girls dance, dripping candles on themselves. My own candle is in danger of dripping. "I have a headache," says Lily, "lets get out of here. Besides, I'm afraid of fire in such a small place." "Go?" I ask. "You wanna go?" She nods, motions to the barman, pays the bill and we leave- - ending up in another homo bar. A row of boys dance in g-strings. Some are good looking. Others are muscular. After the go go line comes the soap show. Then the candles come out. Two post adolescents dance under dripping wax. "Does the fire make you nervous?" I ask Lily. She stares intently at the writhing masculine shapes on the stage. "Oh no," she says, "it's air conditioned here... Besides, that one looks like a Thai Scott Baio. Lets take him." OK, I figure. Lily, Scott Baio and me. That should be ok. Nice even number (for me). Ying and yang. I get one of each. We take him. After paying the bar his 'off fee', he dresses. Then he drives us to the hotel in his expensive new Japanese car. (So much for the myth of the poor, pitiful, exploited prostitute.) The three of us lie naked in bed. Lily lies face up. Scott is on her right. His lips nibble on her right nipple. His thin hairless body stretches naked along her right side. My short hairful body stretches naked along her left side. I take a nipple into my mouth. Lily pushes my head away. "Don't," she says, "I don't like biting." Scott moves down Lily's body. Licking his way to her shaved lickpot. Lily reaches over to the night table next to her and picks up a condom. She opens the package, takes the condom out and puts it in her mouth. Then, she lowers herself to Scott's crotch and kisses the tip. As she sucks him in, she unrolls the condom down his brown tube. She lies on her back again. He nestles between her legs and slips himself in. Holding her ankles in his hands, he presses forward and back. I reach down toward her pulsing pubes to clit diddle. She'll enjoy the two sensations at once. "Don't do that." she tells me. "I don't get off that way. I'm not like most girls." I stop, pissed that she won't let me touch her. I'm gonna pay half. We should all share. I turn my back to them and try to fall asleep amidst the shaking bed. The next day Lily says, "I don't really like group sex." "You got one guy for two people and you don't like group sex?" I ask, "How exactly does your math work?" She shrugs off the question. A few nights later, Lily again brings a single guy back to the hotel. This time, she earns ten courtesy points by springing for a separate room where I won't be subject to the touching temptation. She looses two of those points, however, for borrowing 500 baht ($20) from me to pay him. The day after Scott Baio, we go to another girlbar. After the banana trick, another naked girl comes out of the ceiling bathing in a huge champagne class. She scrubs in all the right places. Next comes the phonebooth. Two girls together, one on the phone, the other between her legs. Naked, they squirm over one another. Finally, one takes the phone and inserts it between the legs of the other. The whole phone booth rises in the air. So do I. "I've got a sore throat," says Lily. "We've got to get out of here." Two nights latter, I try again. By the hairs on my balls, I'm determined not to make this a boy only trip. Tonight's show is even more spectacular. There is the shoot- the-balloons-with-the-blowdart trick. There's the blow-out-the- candles-on-the-cake trick. The S&M show. Everything my little little could desire. I smile at a tough-looking girl on stage. Before long, she comes down to sit next to Lily. Then, I notice that one of her front teeth is missing. After the usual, "What your name? Where you come from?" she asks Lily to buy her a drink. "Maybe latter," says Lily. The girl gets up, bows, and comes back from the bar with a drink for herself and a bill for us. I complain to the management-- politely. I explain there must have been a misunderstanding. No problem. The girl is pissed off, but we don't have to pay for the drink. All is settled, I think. "I hate being hustled," says Lily. "Let's get out of here." It's in Phuket, that we finally get the girls. It's a 'massage parlor'-- massive and elegant-- named Christen. We walk up the carpeted stairway to an open lobby. All eyes are on Lily as we stroll over to a table. The manager greets us. He asks Lily if she's a movie star. Then he sits us down in front of a huge window. On the other side of it, pillars separate the room into two sections. In those sections, on terraced steps-- colosseum-like behind the glass-- sit lots and lots of girls. All in their early 20s or so, some watch a TV hidden from our view by one of the pillars. Each girl wears a pink smock with a blue tag on it. On each tag is a white number. We sit at a table in front. While we discuss, we order coffee. The manager comes to sit with us. After the usual you're lovely's and you look just like Madonna's (none of these comments directed towards me, by the way), we get down to business. We bargain, ending up at 1500 baht ($60) for the two of us. We both notice two girls behind the glass, one thin, small breasted, dark and perky-- the other larger, with breasts that mean it. Numbers 31 and 32. They flirt with us through the glass, waving, pointing to themselves as if saying "Take me! Take me!" We do. "You take the fat one," says Lily. "No, YOU take the fat one," I say. "I thought you liked butch." "Butch smutch," she answers, "the other one is prettier." Somehow, I win this one. Not that it matters a whole lot. We're all gonna be in one room with one big bed. We get to the room-- a large bedroomy type place with an enormous bed, TV, bathtub and shower. A rubber raft, the kind you laze in a pool with, leans up against the wall. After closing the door, the girls sit and talk with us a bit. We ask them where they're from, how long they've been working there and some stuff I don't remember. The heftiest one speaks the best English. The skinny one is the most experienced. They say they that Italians and Thais are the worst customers. "Italians grab too much." says Chubette, "and Thais gab too much." A knock comes at the door. A waiter. "Do you want to order some drinks?" I decline. "For the girls," he says. Ah, more hustle-- but to be nice (figuring they get a percentage) we order drinks for them. They never drink them, of course. After talking, the girls take off their pink smocks. They wear nothing underneath. Slinky motions for me to stand up. She pulls my shirt off. I take off my boots and socks. She reaches for my waist, unsnaps the pants and zips down the fly. Slowly, she lowers those pants and reaches up to finish the job. On the bed, Chubette does the same for Lily. Slinky then fills the tub with water and bubble bath. Together, we climb in. She soaps me up, using her whole body as a sponge, rubbing herself against my back, my front, by top my bottom. Turning me over and back-- face up, face down. Now she lies directly on top of me-- nipples to nipples, crotch to crotch lips to lips. Stretching out her body, she hooks her arms under my shoulders and pulls herself up and down over me. It's like a dream. In a room with three naked girls. One lies on top of me-- mopping my soapy body with her own. What more could you ask? One thing... I'm limp as uncooked bacon. We both sit up in the tub. I look over at the bed. Lily is on her stomach. Chubette straddles her. She massages between the shoulder blades, then moves her hands downward. Speaking of downward, Slinky's hands are now between my legs. She rubs my testicles in her fingers like a magician practicing the disappearing balls trick. The water makes tiny waves, as she rubs-- one hand manipulating the floating testes-- the other the still limp tube of flesh. Still limp! I paid $30 to get in here. I gotta leave at least another thirty for a tip. What do I get for it? Clean??? Next comes the blow-up raft. You know those things that look like six long fat hot dogs attached along the side. Slinky lays it on the tile floor as I stand up in the bath letting the water drip from my flaccidity. She takes a bottle of something extremely slippery and squirts it over the rubber raft. Then she motions for me to lie down on it. I do-- face up. She squirts the slippery stuff all over me-- and herself. Again using her naked brown body with pert black nipples and the tiny scrub brush between her legs, she starts lubricating me. The warmth of her body, her good parts thrusting next to my good parts. Any man not dead would have a raging boner in a second. I must be dead. Her breasts press hard against mine. Her lips touch mine. Her tongue enters my mouth. I let it roam, explore my front teeth, my incisors, my canines, my molars. I push back with my own tongue, tasting her saliva. I rub my tongue on her palate as she rubs the entire surface of her body over mine. Then she turns me over. Flop. A gentle touch is all it takes on the frictionless surface. The rubber squeaks with a great farting sound as I move onto my stomach. My limpness droops between the multiple rubber raft rods. She lies prone against my back, like she did on my front. She moves up and down on me as I move up and down on the rubber raft. I try to relax. Enjoy the sensation. "Even if I don't shoot the white stuff," I lie to myself, "I'll still enjoy the erotic situation-- the adventure." Lily and Chubette giggle on the bed. I can't see what's going on, but I smile when I hear Lily say, "No, just a little farther down. There, that's it. Now you've got it." After the raft, I'm spray washed to get the slippery stuff off. Then, we move to the bed as Lily and Chubette move to the refilling tub. Naked, dry, laying on my back in the bed vacated by those two, Slinky starts licking. She runs her pink tongue around my left nipple. Then, the right. Dribbling saliva in a line between my breasts, she heads south. Skipping the entre, she moves to my legs. She tongues under my right thigh. That does it. There must be a nerve there. A direct connection. No slow step-by-step rise. Oh no. She lights the fire and the limp bacon KERPOW! pops to crispiness. I'm afraid of poking her eye out. Well, not very afraid. I smile at the knowledge that I'm going to get just what's coming to me. I close my eyes and feel the corners of my mouth curl upwards into a smile bigger than my whole head. Slinky seems nearly as pleased with her achievement as I am. In fact, she's so happy she kisses it. Then again. I open my eyes and watch her lightly nibble the tip, running her tongue under the ridge right to the inverted V in back. Now, she takes it into her mouth. All at once. Swooping down on it like a hawk on a paralyzed mouse. Up and down. Expertly. Silently. The only sound in the room is the swoosh of the shower in the tub on the other side. I glance over there. Lily stands, white, majestic against the grey tile. Chubette sprays her down as she stares intently at Slinky, me and my blow job. That stare pumps another pint of blood into my already overpumped pump. I slide down the bed, nestling my head between Slinky's thighs. She's shaved identically to Lily. Just a tuft in front. I part those smooth lower lips with my chin and push my tongue in. Her clit is as small and perky as her breasts. No longer than the top digit of my pinkie, it's thinner than the stirrer stuck in her undrunk drink. And stir her I do. Her legs clamp on either side of my head. About this time, the bed heaves with added weight. Lily and Chubette have joined us. Lily is on the bottom and Chubette covers her with her body. I can't see much else from my V-shaped point of view. The pink on brown thighs are enough to keep me excited right where I am. Slinky slurps onward. So do I. I feel her legs tighten and loosen-- then again. Does she come? I don't know. I begin to feel the coffee perking myself. Gently, I touch her head and whisper softly into her ear. "Condom," I say romantically. She goes to the dresser and gets out a Thai condom. She slips in on me, slowly sliding it down from head to base. It's not a conventional condom. These girls don't take chances. It's as thick and inflexible as an oil drum-- and just as sensual. My hard-won hard-on starts to soften. Meanwhile, Chubette nestles in Lily's bosomitude. One hand plays between her legs. Lily presses her own head back against her pillow and arches upwards. I lie next to her and arch upwards, depressed that my flag again flies half mast. Slinky straddles me. Expertly she presses the base to make the best of a sagging matter. Using exactly the right muscles, she massages me from with her insides. Propping me up, she deep kneebends over my middle. Then, with me still inside, she lies on her back. Amazingly, Lily offers me a nipple. I feel like sitting up on my hind legs and barking a thank you. I lean over and suck on it, as my rain coated thruster continues to thrust. Chubette works her mouth on Lily's soft spot. I pull out of Slinky, rolling off the condom. She gets the idea and puts her lips where the latex had been. Nibbling the tip, she strokes lower as I feel my prostate tighten. Pow! Rise and salute! Poking her middle finger into my puckered hole, she massages that gland from the inside. It's hard to hold back. I don't. I shudder and tense the muscles in my body. A shake and a hip thrust upwards. I spew the first drops against her tonsils, the rest dripping down the sides of her mouth. After a moment's rest, we turn our attention to Ms. Lily. Each of us takes a different part. Me on one breast, Chubette on the other. Slinky uses her tongue, freshly lubricated with my semen, on Lily's goodspot. Lily presses back against the bed. It shakes like a motel bed with the magic fingers turned on. She breathes hard. Harder, her head thrown back, she rises on her elbows, pelvis thrust upwards-- then it's over. And so is this column. Yes, we found out about child prostitution, indentured servitude (sex slavery) and a bunch of other stuff. But you have to wait till next month for that. Right now, I'm gonna take a cold shower. I need it. ENDNOTES --> While I was gone, history's greatest injustice was finally (after more than 20 years) corrected. The Scooter, Phil Rizzutto, is in the hall of fame. The world is a better place now than it was a month ago. --> Virgil Porter writes from Alaska that his radio station needs promos. Also if your band wants to play in Anchorage, he can help set up shows. Contact him c/o KRUA, Building K, Univ. of Alaska Anchorage, 3211 Providence Dr., Anchorage AK 99508. He says too that he's lonely for e-mail up there in snowland. You netties should fling him some electrons at --> Anybody know what happened to Capitol Punishment's Dale Stewart? My last letter came back. I was thinking that he finally got so sick of Fresno, he moved to someplace better, like Cleveland. --> Do they want to pare down the mailing list or what dept: In what I can't figure any other reason for, the Republican National Committee (310 First Street Southeast, Washington DC 20003) has sent a check for $1 to everyone on its mailing list. With the check is a letter saying, "If you think Clinton will lower taxes cash this check." As if you won't cash it, but send THEM money to protect your taxes. Well, it's in my bank account. Lets see if I get any more mail from them. --> Sean, formerly(?) of N. 11 St in San Jose: I tried to send you a postcard, but it was returned "for better address." What's the story, you live in a bad neighborhood and the post office wants you to move? --> So John Wayne Bobbitt gets his dick cut off and it's big news. The jury finds his wife innocent. Suddenly, she's a cause celebre among feminists and other scissors wielders. Radley sent me a clipping from San Francisco about The Lesbian Avengers who were hosting a 'Bobbitt-cue Weenie Roast.' Now who was it who told me feminists were not castrating bitches, but just normal women who wanted equal rights? --> I love it when Oriental companies pick Latin alphabet initials without knowing that they mean something else. In Japan, you can buy J.O. coffee. In Thailand, I saw a company with the initials F.I.B. It was an advertising agency. -->Jun Doi in Japan-- my last card to you was returned. You got a new address? A new band? --> More video thanks to the guys (guy?) at Spunkasfuk (RD1, PO Box 12905, Clarendon PA 16313) for sending me their vid. Even though I make a brief appearance, it's still pretty good. The GG Allin segment is one of the best I've seen. A new song, spontaneous, unavailable elsewhere(?), is here. There is also some very cruel stuff (like taping a live rat to a kite), that deserves a punch in the mouth. --> Even MORE video thanks to Navyman Charles Nelson for his interesting video on animal husbandry-- and occasionally wifery. Excellent. Yo buckaroos, keep those videos coming. You'll be keeping me coming. As usual, I'm at PO Box 137, Prince Street Sta, New York NY 10012. --> Bad news about Dok Mohawk, Thailand's first punk. He's completely blind now and very depressed. His "best friend" stole a lot of money from him. He hasn't been able to pay the rent in four months. He needs cheering up and cash! If you've got a few bucks to spare (rent is only $36 a month!) you should send it, well-hidden, in a letter. You can reach him: Dok Mohawk, 304/17 soi Tapsuan 1, Ding Daeng Rd, Asoke, Bangkok 10400, THAILAND --> Once, while visiting Dok's niece in a very poor section of Bangkok, we saw the most beautiful couple ever: Dok's niece and her husband. Thin, smooth-faced, with an air of innocence I've never seen amongst white folks. Dad holds their baby girl. She's wearing only a little t-shirt. He holds her high above his head and lowers her to his face. Putting his face between the little girl's legs, he BRRRRRRs against her tiny sex. The baby giggles and reaches down to play with dad's long black hair. He does it again. She laughs out loud as does her mom and dad. In America, Dad would be jailed. The kid taken away and told she was molested-- abused. She'd live the rest of her life in hate and pain. In Thailand, it was play among people who love one another. No, Thailand certainly didn't increase my love of either Christians or feminists. -end- X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X Another file downloaded from: The NIRVANAnet(tm) Seven & the Temple of the Screaming Electron Taipan Enigma 510/935-5845 Burn This Flag Zardoz 408/363-9766 realitycheck Poindexter Fortran 510/527-1662 Lies Unlimited Mick Freen 801/278-2699 The New Dork Sublime Biffnix 415/864-DORK The Shrine Rif Raf 206/794-6674 Planet Mirth Simon Jester 510/786-6560 "Raw Data for Raw Nerves" X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X


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