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Chapter Twenty-seven

Marshal

I see Miss Tits and Ass move to the treadmill next to mine. She’s hard to miss with her giant XL fake tits squeezed into a top that is probably a size too small. Hell, the way they’re bouncing, I’m half expecting them to spill out.

Instead of focusing on her, I concentrate on the music blaring through my earbuds, the increase of the incline on my course, and way the speed is picking up. My mind goes to Sami and the way she handled tiny-dick in Holland last weekend ...

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