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  #1  
Old 09-08-2014, 05:30 AM
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
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Default Will’s Mom Comes Undone

Danielle Parnell looked at herself in the mirror. At 43, from ample time in the gym and great genetics, she looked fantastic. Standing only 5'2" she had legs that seemed those of a super model – firm, toned and leading to a fantastic heart-shaped ass. Her tiny waist and toned abs were a perfect complement to her pert 34C breasts. With green eyes and shoulder length brown hair she simply oozed sex appeal. The problem was – she knew it. And more than that, she loved that others knew it and loved lording it over them.

The lawyer and mother of three was one of those women who turned up her nose at her idyllic neighborhood’s non-working moms. Each year she would count the days until the neighborhood pool opened and then, after many of the other families had already arrived, would make a grand entrance in her high wedge heels, a cover up, a wide brimmed hat, sunglasses and the season’s most fashionable bikini – respectable but planned with the purpose of making fathers (and their sons) drool and mothers seethe – she loved it. What’s more, while she would knowingly tease the men, if any of them as much as attempted to reciprocate she would give them a withering look and then loudly lecture them about their inappropriate behavior. It was that part she loved the most, leaving men tongue tied and humiliated and implying to their wives that if they took better care of themselves their husbands’ eyes wouldn't wander.

At work she always dressed to the nines. Heels were never lower than 4” and her form fitting skirts, although “appropriate” (one of her favorite words), were always slightly above her knee. She often wore sleeveless blouses or dresses to show off her fit arms. In the office generally, and in meetings in particular, she reveled in the male attention lavished upon her and looked down at her female colleagues all of whom were intimidated by her haughtiness and domineering nature – “losers,” she would think to herself, “all of them.”

She simply delighted in teasing men, leaving them hard and speechless, by always reminding them what they couldn't have. It wasn't uncommon for her, after teasing a colleague at work, or a soccer dad at one of her kid’s games, to then loudly and publicly chide him with a, “perhaps if you spent less time staring at me and more paying attention to the task at hand . . . ” type comment. She would make sure that everyone around knew she did not approve of this “inappropriate” behavior. Of course, on the inside she arrogantly delighted not only in her power over men but even more so in how by shaming them she was also humiliating their wives – “fat pigs – they wish they were half as hot as I.” Suffice it to say the women in her neighborhood as well as those at work despised her.

Not surprisingly, as a mother Danielle was the first to call the school to complain about a teacher, to reprimand a coach about not giving one of her children enough playing time or to make it clear to some stay-at-home mom who volunteered as a den mother that she was doing it all wrong.

It was that last pronouncement that had led to this day in 2011. After publicly berating her 11 year old son Will’s prior den mother, Emma Duncan, at a Cub Scout meeting (in front of most of the families in her community), Mrs. Duncan quit and Danielle condescendingly agreed to take over as den mother herself. Specifically, after Danielle’s son Will forgot his lines in a skit and then proceeded to cry, Danielle leaped up from her seat in the audience and let Emma know that if she spent more time working with the boys instead of “stuffing that fat frame into that inappropriately small uniform in an effort to distract their fathers” none of this would have happened. Of course, poor Emma, who although a bit overweight had forgone getting a new den mother uniform because money was tight, withered at the snide Mrs. Parnell’s criticism, burst into tears herself and quit.

While Danielle detested having to meet weekly with the gaggle of 11 year-old mischief makers that were the 10 boys in the den, the only event left for the season was the big Cub Scout meeting to celebrate the 235th anniversary of the nation’s founding. After she got them through that she’d be able to claim success, brag about how she saved the scouts from the incompetent and inappropriate Mrs. Emma Duncan, and gracefully bow out.

Admiring herself again in the mirror as she prepared for the big event she couldn't help but gloat. She stood in her 4.5” blue stilettos wearing only a tiny, sheer “cub scout blue” thong bikini (with a yellow bobcat stenciled on the crotch) and an equally sheer yellow push-up bra designed to emphasize her already sizeable bosom. Before putting on her skirt, blouse and jacket she fastened the yellow Cub Scout scarf around her neck and put the blue den mother’s beret on her head. She smirked inwardly as she thought about how all of the loser dads in the audience would kill to see her looking like this but never would and how their pathetic wives could only dream about stirring that type of desire in a man -- she simply loved herself. With that she put on her sleeveless, fitted, button up yellow blouse and her wrap around blue pleated uniform skirt. After topping it off with a bolero style uniform jacket she looked completely the vision of officialdom and authority.
Leading her ten scouts into the local high school gym, she walked with a little extra sway in her hips to make sure everyone knew she was queen bee. The gym was teeming with about three hundred people -- from the 70 or so scouts, to their parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, to local politicians and, finally, to some local TV news teams that had come to cover the big event.

The audience sat in a large circle surrounding each of the ten dens, with the scouts sitting “indian style” on the floor in a row behind each of their respective den mothers who sat in front of them on a folding chair (Mrs. Duncan had been convinced to return to lead another den so she was back again as well). As she walked “her boys” to their position in the circle Danielle basked in the attention she knew she was getting from all males in attendance. As usual – she loved that they couldn't keep their eyes off her and imagined them lusting after what they would never have. She also took a special pleasure in knowing that their wives and girlfriends knew she was their better in every way and couldn't do a thing about it.

With that, the night began. A dogged progression of skits from Paul Revere’s ride, to the Boston Tea party (Danielle’s den’s production), to the Battle of Bunker Hill where tennis balls spray painted black stood in for cannon balls and ketchup for blood.

Finally it was time for the last skit, where Emma Duncan’s den would reenact Washington crossing the Delaware. As the boys started making their way across the floor holding a paper boat at their sides, the kids from the Battle of Bunker Hill (who were now bored to tears) decided it would be fun to throw some “cannon balls” into the mix. All at once it was Bedlam. Poor Emma Duncan who had already been humiliated once at a Cub Scout meeting was apoplectic. She bounded from her seat into the fray as her boys (and she) got pelted by the tennis balls.

Meanwhile, Danielle was rolling her eyes at the inappropriate nature of the entire scene. “Savages,” she thought to herself. That said, she knew she couldn't let this mayhem continue and had to do something. Having taken off her jacket earlier, she decided it was time to march out into this mess and restore some order before that foolish cow Emma Duncan caused any more trouble. What she didn't realize was that sitting right beneath her chair her son Will had somehow managed to get his toy Kentucky rifle from the Boston Tea party skit up the side of his mom’s pleated skirt.

As Danielle purposefully strode into the mix time appeared to slow down to a crawl. The bayonet atop her son’s rifle undid the clasp inside her skirt and the skirt began to open. Feeling the resistance, Will gave a mighty pull and fell backwards just as his mother strongly marched into the middle of the commotion. The ripping sound cut through the gym like a knife as Danielle’s torn skirt flew off the end of Will’s gun and into the crowd. In the meantime, shocked silence was replaced by a collective groan from the men and a roar of laughter from the women as the haughty Mrs. Parnell now stood before them in her 4.5” heels, tiny blue thong and sleeveless yellow blouse.

Danielle was frozen. The usual superior grin on her face replaced by eyes the size of saucers and a dropped jaw as her hands struggled between covering the bobcat on the front of her thong and shielding her now there-for-all-to-see fabulous ass. The humiliation was overwhelming. Where was her skirt? How could all these commoners be leering at her? She had to run. It was at this point that Emma Duncan saw the chance for a little payback. Standing behind Danielle she tapped her on the shoulder preparing to with a smile on her face ask her “who was the inappropriate one now.”

Of course, the debacle of the skirmishing boys had gone on unabated and as Danielle turned around one of the boys accidentally took Emma Duncan’s legs out from under her. As Danielle began to scream, “what the hell do you think YOU’RE doing,” poor Emma began her fall and, instinctively reaching out to stop herself, caught the lapels of Danielle’s fitted yellow blouse which gave way both in the front and back before tearing completely off. There for all to see was the arrogant, know-it-all, tease – Danielle Parnell – wearing only her blue high heels, tiny blue thong, sheer yellow push-up bra, Cub Scout scarf and beret.

Gone was any hope of propriety, any hint of arrogance. As cell phones, cameras and the local news recorded her humiliation for posterity, all Danielle could muster was a stunned, daffy look on her once smug face. That is until Emma Duncan, who by now had gotten to her feet, gave Danielle a slap on her perfect ass. Awakened from the trance of humiliation, the last anyone saw of Mrs. Parnell was her running in her high heels, bra and thong panties toward the exit door of the gym – Will’s mom had come undone.
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  #2  
Old 09-08-2014, 03:40 PM
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divalover95 divalover95 is offline
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hey really loved this story and this character wondering if you are planning on continuing this?
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  #3  
Old 09-08-2014, 08:23 PM
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
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Thanks for appreciating it. I think as far as it goes this particular story is done. Scratching my head about whether to bring more shame the character's way.
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Old 09-08-2014, 09:18 PM
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would love this character to suffer more, fantastically written would love to see her stripped all the way.
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Old 09-08-2014, 11:28 PM
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Bravo on this story, especially liked the choice of clothes and the way her shoes and thong matched but her bra didn't something in me could just imagine the contrast and smiled. Only wished it could of been longer and a full ENF story but this is a fantastic taster for what I am hoping will turn into a wonderful series.
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Old 09-09-2014, 05:51 PM
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
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Thanks for the kind words Dr. V. As I intimated to divalover, my instinct was to have this be a standalone story. Believe it or not it's based on an incident from 1976 (when yours truly was a Cub Scout) where a friend's mom had her skirt accidentally but unceremoniously ripped off by her unwitting son. Of course, the woman in question, while attractive in this old man's memory, was also quite a nice person and the incident was over relatively quickly. That said, the character of Mrs. Parnell derives from a woman I know now who, although a friend, is every bit the archetype described in the story. For me it's all about the comeuppance -- the fall of the proud if you will. With that in mind, I'll try to see if I can't plan a few more misadventures for the preening diva that is Danielle.
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Old 09-09-2014, 09:04 PM
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Nice to hear a bit of back story and also nice to hear you might make more excellent work mate.
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Old 09-13-2014, 09:20 AM
Chasmo Chasmo is offline
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Below is a slightly revised version of my original story based on an alternative ending that Hman was kind enough to develop upon reading the draft posted at IO's ASN Storyboard (see his unadulterated work over at http://disc.yourwebapps.com/discussi...0Story%20Board -- great stuff). Comments are welcom.


Danielle Parnell looked at herself in the mirror. At 43, from ample time in the gym and great genetics, she looked fantastic. Standing only 5'2" she had legs that seemed those of a super model – firm, toned and leading to a fantastic heart-shaped ass. Her tiny waist and toned abs were a perfect complement to her pert 34C breasts. With green eyes and shoulder length brown hair she simply oozed sex appeal. The problem was – she knew it. And more than that, she loved that others knew it and loved lording it over them.

The lawyer and mother of three was one of those women who turned up her nose at her idyllic neighborhood’s non-working moms. Each year she would count the days until the neighborhood pool opened and then, after many of the other families had already arrived, would make a grand entrance in her high wedge heels, a cover up, a wide brimmed hat, sunglasses and the season’s most fashionable bikini – respectable but planned with the purpose of making fathers (and their sons) drool and mothers seethe – she loved it. What’s more, while she would knowingly tease the men, if any of them as much as attempted to reciprocate she would give them a withering look and then loudly lecture them about their inappropriate behavior. It was that part she loved the most, leaving men tongue tied and humiliated and implying to their wives that if they took better care of themselves their husbands’ eyes wouldn't wander.

At work she always dressed to the nines. Heels were never lower than 4” and her form fitting skirts, although “appropriate” (one of her favorite words), were always slightly above her knee. She often wore sleeveless blouses or dresses to show off her fit arms. In the office generally, and in meetings in particular, she reveled in the male attention lavished upon her and looked down at her female colleagues all of whom were intimidated by her haughtiness and domineering nature – “losers,” she would think to herself, “all of them.”

She simply delighted in teasing men, leaving them hard and speechless, by always reminding them what they couldn't have. It wasn't uncommon for her, after teasing a colleague at work, or a soccer dad at one of her kid’s games, to then loudly and publicly chide them with a, “perhaps if you spent less time staring at me and more paying attention to the task at hand . . . ” type comment. She would make sure that everyone around knew she did not approve of this “inappropriate” behavior. Of course, on the inside she arrogantly delighted not only in her power over men but even more so in how by shaming them she was also humiliating their wives – “fat pigs – they wish they were half as hot as I.” Suffice it to say the women in her neighborhood as well as those at work despised her.

Not surprisingly, as a mother Danielle was the first to call the school to complain about a teacher, to reprimand a coach about not giving one of her children enough playing time or to make it clear to some stay-at-home mom who volunteered as a den mother that she was doing it all wrong.

It was that last pronouncement that had led to this day in 2011. After publicly berating her 11 year old son Will’s prior den mother, Emma Duncan, at a Cub Scout meeting (in front of most of the families in her community), Mrs. Duncan quit and Danielle condescendingly agreed to take over as den mother herself. Specifically, after Danielle’s son Will forgot his lines in a skit and then proceeded to cry, Danielle leaped up from her seat in the audience and let Emma know that if she spent more time working with the boys instead of “stuffing that fat frame into that inappropriately small uniform in an effort to distract their fathers” none of this would have happened. Of course, poor Emma, who although a bit overweight had forgone getting a new den mother uniform because money was tight, withered at the snide Mrs. Parnell’s criticism, burst into tears herself and quit. One of the community’s nicest women had been cowed and summarily dispatched by one of its most arrogant.

While Danielle detested having to meet weekly with the gaggle of 11 year-old mischief makers that were the 10 boys in the den, the only event left for the season was the big Cub Scout meeting to celebrate the 235th anniversary of the nation’s founding. After she got them through that she’d be able to claim success, brag about how she saved the scouts from the incompetent and inappropriate Mrs. Emma Duncan, and gracefully bow out.

Admiring herself again in the mirror as she prepared for the big event she couldn't help but gloat. She stood in her 4.5” blue stilettos wearing only a tiny, sheer “cub scout blue” thong bikini (with a yellow bobcat stenciled on the crotch) and an equally sheer yellow push-up bra designed to emphasize her already sizeable bosom. Before putting on her skirt, blouse and jacket she fastened the yellow Cub Scout scarf around her neck and put the blue den mother’s beret on her head. She smirked inwardly as she thought about how all of the loser dads in the audience would kill to see her looking like this but never would and how their pathetic wives could only dream about stirring that type of desire in a man -- she simply loved herself. With that she put on her sleeveless, fitted, button up yellow blouse and her wrap around blue pleated uniform skirt. After topping it off with a bolero style uniform jacket she looked completely the vision of officialdom and authority.

Leading her ten scouts into the local high school gym, she walked with a little extra sway in her hips to make sure everyone knew she was queen bee. The gym was teeming with about three hundred people -- from the 70 or so scouts, to their parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, to local politicians and, finally, to some local TV news teams that had come to cover the big event.

The audience sat in a large circle surrounding each of the ten dens, with the scouts sitting “indian style” on the floor in a row behind each of their respective den mothers who sat in front of them on a folding chair (Mrs. Duncan had been convinced to return to lead another den so she was back again as well). As she walked “her boys” to their position in the circle Danielle basked in the attention she knew she was getting from all males in attendance. As usual – she loved that they couldn't keep their eyes off her and imagined them lusting after what they would never have. She also took a special pleasure in knowing that their wives and girlfriends knew she was their better in every way and couldn't do a thing about it. Little did she realize that they could – and tonight they would.

With that, the night began. A dogged progression of skits from Paul Revere’s ride, to the Boston Tea party (Danielle’s den’s production), to the Battle of Bunker Hill where tennis balls spray painted black stood in for cannon balls and ketchup for blood.

Finally it was time for the last skit, where Emma Duncan’s den would reenact Washington crossing the Delaware. As the boys started making their way across the floor holding a paper boat at their sides, the kids from the Battle of Bunker Hill (who were now bored to tears) decided it would be fun to throw some “cannon balls” into the mix. All at once it was Bedlam. Poor Emma Duncan who had already been humiliated once at a Cub Scout meeting was apoplectic. She bounded from her seat into the fray as her boys (and she) got pelted by the tennis balls.

Meanwhile, Danielle was rolling her eyes at the inappropriate nature of the entire scene. “Savages,” she thought to herself as she turned from the lunacy in front of her to give a contemptuous look to the ultimate source of this pack of wild animals – the “pathetic array” of dumpy mothers sitting behind her. That said, she knew she couldn't let this mayhem continue and had to do something. Having taken off her jacket earlier, she decided it was time to march out into this mess and restore some order before that foolish cow Emma Duncan caused any more trouble. What she didn't realize was that sitting right beneath her chair her son Will had somehow managed to get his toy Kentucky rifle from the Boston Tea party skit up the side of his mom’s pleated skirt. What happened next would become local legend.

As Danielle purposefully strode into the mix time appeared to slow down to a crawl. The bayonet atop her son’s rifle undid the clasp inside her skirt and the skirt began to open. Feeling the resistance, Will gave a mighty pull and fell backwards just as his mother strongly marched into the middle of the commotion. The ripping sound cut through the gym like a knife as Danielle’s torn skirt flew off the end of Will’s gun and into the crowd. In the meantime, shocked silence was replaced by a collective groan from the men – who glimpsed the perfection of Mrs. Parnell’s firm and now exposed posterior -- and a roar of laughter from the women as the haughty Mrs. Parnell now stood before them in her 4.5” heels, tiny blue thong and sleeveless yellow blouse. Her public comeuppance had begun.

Danielle was frozen. The usual superior grin on her face replaced by eyes the size of saucers and a dropped jaw as her hands struggled between covering the bobcat on the front of her thong and shielding her now there-for-all-to-see fabulous ass. The humiliation was overwhelming. Where was her skirt? How could all these commoners be leering at her? Had she just been stripped by her own son? She had to run. It was at this point that the howling Emma Duncan saw the chance for a little payback. Standing behind Danielle she tapped her on the shoulder and asked “are you starting a new fashion trend Mrs. Parnell? Who is the inappropriate one now?”

Had she paused for even a moment, the half-dressed Mrs. Parnell may have prevented what happened next – alas, she did not. The fun poked at her by Emma was enough to cause Danielle’s imperiousness momentarily to return and -- irked by the other woman’s mockery, she petulantly exclaimed, “what the hell do you think YOU’RE doing you fat cow,” before rearing back and slapping poor Emma across her face.

Suddenly all the years of snide comments, eye-rolling and abject humiliation at the hands of this woman bubbled to the surface of the ceaselessly sweet, but now completely enraged, Emma Duncan. Grabbing the lapels of Danielle’s tightly fitted yellow blouse, Mrs. Duncan pulled down with all her might causing the garment to give way both in the front and back before tearing completely off. There for all to see was the arrogant, know-it-all, tease – Danielle Parnell – wearing only her blue high heels, tiny blue thong, sheer yellow push-up bra, Cub Scout scarf and beret.

Gone was any hope of propriety, any hint of arrogance. As cell phones, cameras and the local news recorded her humiliation for posterity, all Danielle could muster was a stunned, daffy look on her once smug face. That is until Emma, whose adrenaline was coursing through her veins as it had never before, grabbed the quivering prima donna by the wrist and marched her over to the dessert table that had been setup by some of the more dedicated den mothers. Those same mothers were now laughing uproariously, ecstatic at the sight of Danielle’s reversal of fortune – it had been a long time coming they thought and couldn't be more well deserved.

“So we are all fat cows, are we Miss High and Mighty. Well I think you need a little fattening up yourself -- have some cake.”

With that Emma unceremoniously pushed Danielle’s beautiful face into a seven layer chocolate cake. When the usually exquisite Mrs. Parnell’s face reappeared it was dripping with thick chocolate and her hair, still supporting the beret, was a mess. The escapade only amplified the taunts and laughter from the cheering crowd of women.

To call it a fight would not be fair. Danielle was so mortified she put up no resistance. As Mrs. Parnell stood stupefied in her stilettos, Emma began the end.

“Don’t worry sweetie” she said sarcastically, “you can keep your bra and thong on, along with that ridiculous looking beret.”

And ridiculous it was. There stood the once untouchable queen bee, stripped to her sexy underwear and covered in cake in front of a room full of people she had tormented, degraded and looked down upon for years. Asking for a chair, Emma sat down and pulled the horrified Danielle across her lap, and wishing to prolong the diva’s agony a bit longer, she implored of the appreciative assemblage of other mothers, “well ladies -- has she had enough or do you think this snob needs a spanking.”

“Tan her little hide Emma,” and “not so hot looking now is she,” were just a few of the comments that provided Mrs. Duncan with her answer.

Spiritedly but futilely trying to reestablish her authority Danielle protested “how dare you – you nobody -- let me up this instant, do you know who I am?”

“Yes we do,” Emma quickly replied, “and that’s exactly why you’re going to get what you deserve.”

And then it began, as camera’s flashed and local news stations rolled, Danielle Parnell was being spanked like the naughty little girl she was.

“Ohhh, ouch, ohhhh, you stop it this instant, ouch it hurts, please – ohhhhh!!”

Emma showed no mercy as the spanks rained down on Danielle’s firm but quickly reddening bottom. In fact, it was becoming difficult to tell which was redder, her gorgeous ass from the spanking, or her face from the humiliation.

“Now Mrs. Parnell,” Emma said as she continued her onslaught, “I believe you referred to me earlier as a fat cow. With the tables turned the way they are, I think it’s time we heard you moo – don’t you ladies.”

Again a loud roar of approval went up from the crowd.

“Start mooing – NOW,” demanded Emma who punctuated her command with a hard smack to Danielle’s posterior.

What the gathered throng heard next was the highlight of the evening.

“Moo,” croaked Danielle -- feebly at first but as the spanks became harder Danielle began to moo in earnest.

“Moo, MOO, MOOOOOO,” she started screaming.

The women she so deplored were now doubled over in pain from laughter. Their arrogant, holier-than-thou nemesis was being spanked in public in her bra, thong, heels, scarf and beret -- by one of them no less. What’s more she was mooing like a cow.

“Who is the fat cow now Mrs. Parnell?” Emma bellowed. “Say it!”

Despite knowing it wasn’t true, notwithstanding the thousands of hours in the gym that so helped define her physical glory and the affirmation of it by every man who ever set eyes on her, and dreading the words as the lowest form of debasement, the now broken Mrs. Parnell cried out, “I am, I am, I am a fat cow, a naughty little girl and a fat cow.”

With that, and to the collective cheers of the community, the triumphant Mrs. Duncan dumped Danielle off her lap and onto the floor. The last anyone saw of Mrs. Parnell was her running in her high heels, bra and thong panties toward the exit door of the gym, her glorious bottom a very bright shade of red. Will’s mom had indeed come undone.
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Old 09-13-2014, 12:02 PM
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Default Great!!! Continue!

Well done!
More comments and ideas here: http://disc.yourwebapps.com/discussion.cgi?disc=58894;article=49275;title=The% 20ASN%20Story%20Board
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Old 09-13-2014, 12:21 PM
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fantastic !!! wow your a really talented writer and I loved the updated version well done.
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