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... t hit him straight in the face, sharp and unforgiving.

He squinted, turning his head to the side, his hand coming up to shield his eyes.

He groaned, low and rough, his other hand moving down beneath the thin blanket to adjust himself.

Morning wood. Again.

His grey boxer briefs pulled tight, uncomfortable.

He shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t feel like his dick was about to tear through the material.

’Maybe I should just call Miss Kelly ...

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