Sex stories

Erotic fiction and short sex stories




Absolute Devotion Ch. 11

"I have to do this, or one of us is going to prison," Erica said as she finished unbuckling Detective Rosewood's pants and unzipped his fly while looking deeply into my eyes.

"You realize just giving me head isn't going to be enough," Rosewood told her as he took her chin in his hand and made her look up at him. "This isn't a parking ticket, this is first degree murder."

"I understand," Erica said, looking more nervous and scared than I'd ever seen her look before.

They were less than two feet in front of me, and being that close to Erica's beautiful face was a wonderful thing, but when she unzipped Rosewood's fly, grabbed hold of his belt loops, and began to pull his pants down, I was afraid.

He was wearing striped boxer shorts, and once Erica had his pants down around his ankles, she began pulling down his boxers as well. He wasn't completely hard, which as far as I was concerned was an insult to Erica, but his cock was enormous. Even not fully erect it was probably ten inches long and as big around as a table leg. His balls were gigantic as well, and swung freely beneath him like pendulums of some kind.

Looking up at Rosewood, Erica said, in a little girl's voice, "Mister, you have a very beautiful cock and I look forward to having it inside me."

I didn't like having his huge cock so close to my face, but I couldn't really move in my restraints. I couldn't walk, couldn't get up off my knees, and I dared not speak or protest because I knew I couldn't say anything that would make what was happening any better.

There was a knock on the door and all I could think was, "Oh no, not more cops," but the three uniformed officers and Detective Rosewood all looked at each other and shrugged.

Rosewood pulled up his pants, told Erica not to go anywhere, and went to the door. He looked through the peep hole and then pulled the door open.

"What do you people want? Keith and Erica are busy right now."

"We wanted to know if they wanted some pizza," I heard Jimmy's voice say.

"You came over for a pizza party?" Rosewood asked. "How many fucking pizza parties do you motherfuckers have?"

"Well, this isn't really a party or anything. We were just having drinks and thought, 'Hey, let's see what Keith and Erica are up to. Maybe they would like some pizza."

"Do you people call ahead or just do the drop by? I hate the fucking drop by."

"Oh wait, I know who you are," Jimmy's voice said. "You're the detective who talked to me at work today. I almost didn't recognize you."

"We talked for almost an hour and you don't recognize me?"

"Nah, I recognize you, man. I just wanted to like pretend we just met."

"Are you stoned, young man? You sound stoned."

"Maybe I am."

"How about you?" Rosewood said, turning his head towards whomever it was that was with Jimmy. "Are you stoned?"

"I am, yeah, I am stoned. What do you think about my ass?" It was Cat, my temporary assistant from the shredder room.

"Get the fuck in here, both of you," Rosewood barked. "Get inside the apartment."

Rosewood pulled Jimmy in by the collar of his shirt and threw him in the direction of the couch. Cat walked in on her own power. She was spinning about as she walked, looking up and around in all directions, and talking about how "cool" everything was. She was wearing very tight short shorts, and I had to admit, she actually did have a great ass.

She also had amazing thighs. Her legs were shorter and wider than Erica's, with big round thighs that didn't appear to have any cellulite or blemishes of any kind. She had cute little fat knees and strong, compact calves. If Erica hadn't been in my life I would have considered beginning an office romance with Cat after I got back to the office. That is to say, if I ever got back to the office.

"What's going on, man?" Jimmy asked, looking at me. "Why you all chained up like that, dude?"

"He's being arrested for the murder of Ray Mundo," Rosewood told him.

The three uniformed cops were upsetting me by walking around the apartment and touching things. They would pick up various collectible figures, a recent hobby of mine that I had somehow found time for, touch them inappropriately and put them down in incorrect positions. They also seemed to feel they had the right to help themselves to snack food, coffee, and beer.

I was in no position to protest. Once a man is placed in handcuffs by the police, his conviction of whatever crime he has been accused of is merely a formality. If you want to avoid trouble with the police, don't commit any crimes and you won't be bothered. Only the guilty are ever accused of crimes and any other interpretation is simply propaganda.

Even though I knew I was innocent of Ray's murder, I feared that arguing my case would result in some kind of punishment, like being hit with a police baton or slapped with Rosewood's special leather glove. Then, just as I thought all was lost, Jimmy winked at me and gave me a knowing look.

He was up to something. He had a plan. Everything was going to be okay.

Erica was still kneeling on the floor next to me. The uniforms continued meandering around the apartment getting into all of mine and Erica's things. Cat kept walking around the apartment like she was surfing on a cloud while Jimmy looked like he was only half conscious on the couch. Time was passing.

Detective Rosewood pulled a cell phone out and made a call.

"Yeah, it's me. You better get over here. There's been some... complications."

Rosewood went to the window that looked out at the parking lot and stood there looking out between the closed blinds without saying a word for several minutes.

"Dude," Jimmy suddenly yelled out to me, "guess what? I'm not gay. I'm totally into Cat."

I nodded at him and rolled my eyes.

I kept trying to figure out what was wrong with the entire situation. Rosewood had dinner with Erica, they were talking very friendly, and now he was being very hostile towards her. I was missing something, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

There was a knock on the door and one of the uniforms, Officer Money, walked into the apartment. I'd just seen him in the kitchen, messing with my refrigerator magnets, and had no idea how he'd gotten outside.

He had my old lady disguise in his arms and dropped it on the coffee table. He looked at me, made a "tsk tsk" noise, and went back into the kitchen.

"Seems like you have been up to something, Keith, what's with the disguise?"

"That isn't mine," I lied.

"I've never seen him wear that," Erica said. "Those look like old lady clothes. Where did you find them?"

"In the locker room at your apartment complex swimming pool, that's where," replied Rosewood.

"How does that make them Keith's?" Erica demanded to know. "You're framing my boyfriend!"

"Does he always wear glasses?" Rosewood asked Erica.

"What?"

"The glasses he's wearing. He wasn't wearing glasses when he was interviewed at work."

"Huh? I never realized he was wearing those," she said. "Honey, did you get new glasses?"

"A car was broken into in the parking lot and the only thing stolen out of them was a pair of eyeglasses," Rosewood said before lighting another cigarette.

"We really do prefer if you smoke outside," Erica told him.

"I don't give a rat's ass what you prefer," Rosewood told her.

"You're very impolite," I said, finally getting up the nerve to speak. "If I agree to confess to this crime, can we stop this? I don't even know what's going on any more."

The door flew open and Detective Haggerty, dressed in open-toed high heels, walked into the apartment like she owned the place.

"Someone may have spotted Dibella at the national park," she said. "We get him and we can put this to rest."

"What the fuck is going on?" Erica yelled and got up on the floor. "This is NOT what we agreed to, Rosewood."

"Things have changed," Rosewood told her.

"You came over a day early, you went WAY off script, and now you invite your bitch of a partner over here? What the FUCK is going on?"

"Oh, so I'm the bitch now?" Detective Haggerty replied, looking at Erica with disdain. "I'm not even getting into this with you, woman. I'm just not."

Detective Haggerty threw up her hands in disgust and turned away from Erica. She looked at the pile of old lady clothes, the key to my secret identity, and asked Rosewood, "This is the one? You sure?"

"Yeah, she was at Highlights by herself and then met with Marcello. They talked about going up to a cabin somewhere upstate. I didn't think it was a real old lady, so I followed up."

"Good job," she said quietly and patted him on the shoulder. "We got this. Don't worry. We got this."

"All of you, get the fuck out of my apartment," Erica screamed. "This is NOT what we agreed to."

"Someone let Keith out of those handcuffs and whatever the fuck you chained him up with. What is that, leg irons from the 1950s? The guy has a broken wrist for crying out loud," said Detective Haggerty with a sigh. "Jesus, Rosewood, when you fuck something up you REALLY fuck it up."

"I thought you said we got this? I thought you said we were okay?" Rosewood said as he turned around and looked at Haggerty with a sad puppy dog expression.

"I said we got this. I didn't say you didn't fuck it up in the first place. Those concepts are not mutually exclusive... fuck it, never mind, just get foot boy out of his chains."

"Foot boy?" asked Erica angrily, demanding an explanation with her glare.

"Chill out, slut. I'm on your side."

Erica glared at her and balled up her fists like she was going to punch Detective Haggerty.

"Okay, I'm sorry Miss Erica," Haggerty sighed as the officers released me from my restraints. "I'm sure you're a very sweet girl."

Erica continued to glare at her with a look of pure hatred. Haggerty didn't seem to care in the least.

I was happy to be released from my chains, but mesmerized by what appeared to be two women fighting over me, seething with hatred for each other, and wanting to mark their territory.

"We'll drop all the charges for the vehicle break in and theft of the glasses if you agree to help us by going undercover for us," Detective Haggerty told me.

"Undercover?"

"We knew the organized crime division had an operative working inside the mob who had gotten close to Richie Marcello. They refused to give you up, told us you weren't a cop, that you were an informant, and they needed to protect you. We know Richie Marcello has Victor Dibella, the man who killed Ray Mundo, stashed somewhere. They used to work together back in the old days. We'll protect your identity, but we need you to go on that trip with Marcello."

"Trip?" I wondered out loud.

"You can drop the pretense. Detective Rosewood saw you in that disguise, acting like an old lady to get close to Marcello. The disguise is very convincing. We heard the informant was a crossdresser, but we didn't think we were looking for an old lady."

"My aunt died and left me these clothes," I said, struggling to understand what she was talking about.

"We know Marcello invited you up to his cabin upstate, which is where we think Dibella is hiding out. We don't know where it is, so we need you to go with him, get us the location, and confirm that Dibella is there. If you do that, and we get Dibella back in custody, you'll be cleared of all charges."

"Do you mean Grandpa? I never got his real name."

"Yeah, he used to use that name all the time. He likes to pick up young women. He doesn't like them underage and they are always consenting, so we've never able to bust him on that, but he's still creepy. An 80 year old man picking up twenty-somethings? That's just barfworthy."

"He invited Whitney, the waitress from Highlights, up to his cabin. She's in her twenties."

"I know. We didn't think she'd bite on the invitation. We figured she was just playing along with his grabby hands and sexually suggestive comments, but he's obsessed with her and that's why he came back to town. Now all we need to do is have you wear a wire, go up to the cabin with them, and flush out Dibella."

For some reason, everyone stayed at the apartment until Saturday morning. The three uniformed cops took turns sleeping on the couch, Rosewood occupied my favorite chair, Jimmy and Cat spent most of the time having sex in my bedroom, and Detective Haggerty never slept. She just paced about, looking intensely focused, and barely said a word.

Erica went to her room and stayed there with the door locked. She seemed very upset, but I was fairly certain her anger wasn't directed at me, which was a great relief under these difficult circumstances.

When Saturday morning arrived, Detective Haggerty's intensity turned into action.

"Okay, foot boy, get into your old lady clothes and let's get this show on the road," she told me.

I changed into my disguise, feeling very uneasy about my secret identity being known by so many people. Once I had become Grandma again, I waited for further instructions.

My cell phone rang and I started to shake and cough. Detective Haggerty told me to calm down and answer it, which I was able to do because she had such focus and determination and I didn't want to let her down.

"Hello?" I said in my old lady voice as I answered my cell phone.

It was Grandpa, otherwise known as Richie Marcello. He wanted to know if he needed to pick me up or if I could meet him at a hole in the wall breakfast place. I looked at Detective Haggerty, who shook her head and quietly said, "Meet him somewhere."

"I can meet you there," I told Grandpa. "My place is a fright and I haven't had time to make it presentable for a gentleman caller."

Detective Haggerty told the three uniformed police officers they could go home. After they had left, she woke Detective Rosewood and told him, "Game on."

"I need to tell Miss Erica that I'm leaving," I told Detective Haggerty.

I went to Erica's bedroom door and knocked quietly. After I knocked a second time, she opened the door and told me to come inside. I'd never been in her bedroom before. She had decorated it very nicely, with a couple of framed floral prints and a glass dolphin statue. I told her that her bedroom was very nice and then she closed the door.

"You've had her feet, haven't you?" Erica demanded to know. I could see evidence that she'd been crying.

"Yes," I confessed, "but she made me. She tricked me..."

"Its okay, my sick little monkey, I know you're weak when it comes to certain things. I blame her, not you, for trying to take what is mine."

"I'm sorry it happened. I love you, Miss Erica."

"I know, and I love you, too. This has all been very upsetting for me. I had a plan with Rosewood. He was going to come over with those three cops and act like they had evidence to arrest me for Ray's murder. I gave them the ankle bracelet to use as evidence, but it was all a ruse."

"You were pretending they were arresting you?"

"Yes," she said, teary-eyed. "It was going to turn into this thing where I had to have sex with Rosewood and the three cops in order to avoid being arrested. It was supposed to be a game so we could have some fun with you and make you watch."

"That would have been very exciting," I told her.

"Yes, it would have, but then it got all fucked up. Why are you dressing up in old lady clothes and hanging around at Highlights? Are you really a police informant?"

"I went there so I could spy on you," I admitted. "I didn't know anything about Grandpa or that he was working with the guy who killed Ray. I was just sitting there having a drink when he came and sat down and started talking to me about how he wanted to go to bed with Whitney, the waitress there. He invited me to come up to his cabin with him and Whitney and make Afghans."

"Did he say anything about this Victor guy being up at the cabin?"

"No, he said he wanted Whitney to come up to the cabin with him and we would pretend we were Whitney's grandparents and she was staying with us while her parents were in Spain on vacation."

Erica had me sit down on a short stool. She was wearing her see-thru pink teddy and looked very beautiful. After I sat down, she took a seat on the floor and lifted her beautiful bare leg in the air, right in front of my face. My always erect penis became very painfully hard.

"You can beat off with your left hand, I believe?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Erica," I said despite my breathing becoming very labored.

"Then why aren't you beating off?" she asked.

There was a loud knocking on Erica's bedroom door accompanied by Detective Haggerty's voice saying, "We've got to get moving."

"Keep your panties on, bitch," Erica yelled back. "He's jacking off on my leg."

"He's doing what?" Haggerty yelled back as I started stroking myself.

"He's jacking off on my leg."

"Well, that shouldn't take long," Haggerty sighed. "Rosewood is packing up the surveillance van. We're going to be ready to go in five minutes."

"Moan for me," Erica said as I jerked my cock hard and fast.

I began moaning, loud and excitedly, as I stared up and down the full length of Erica's right leg.

It was gorgeous, and as many times I'd looked at her legs and fantasized about touching them, I had come to accept that I was not allowed to touch any part of her above her ankles. This was a special treat. I knew she was doing it so she could make Detective Haggerty jealous, but that didn't matter to me. What mattered was that I was getting to jerk off while staring at Erica's leg. It was an event I long dreamed of but never expected to actually happen.

Her legs were so smooth, so toned, and so perfectly tanned. She would bend her knee and then stretch her leg to full extension, pointing her long, delicious toes to the sky as if to say even the angels could not conceive of such divine beauty.

I kept getting right to the edge of orgasm, but then it would retreat, not because it was afraid to come, but because I knew that once I shot my load Erica would pull her leg away and I'd be on my way to Grandpa's cabin.

"Let it come," Erica said in her most seductive voice. "Let it come..."

I got to the edge again, and when I did I slowed down, started crying and then started stroking faster again. Erica pivoted on the floor, putting her body between my legs with just enough distance between us that she could reach up with her feet and take my four inch cock between them.

"Is this what you want?" she asked with a gleam in her eyes.

I started bawling, my cries and shrieks slicing the air, as she held my penis between the soles of her feet, caressing it with her soft, high arches, and began slowly moving her feet up and down.

Detective Haggerty started banging on the door again. "What the fuck are you two doing in there? You better not kill him, you fucking bitch!"

I screamed in overwhelming ecstasy as I came, shooting long streams of semen high in the air.

Erica didn't answer Haggerty; she just smiled and kept moving her feet up and down on my cock, relentlessly continuing to stroke my erection between her arches. I could feel every wrinkle, every perfectly formed line as my arousal began to reach heights I'd never imagined possible.

I stopped being able to think. I stopped being able to see. I stopped being able to hear and was no longer aware of any element of my surroundings other than the way Erica's perfect feet felt wrapped around my cock, slowly sliding up and down on it, never pausing, and never stopping. I wanted this to go on forever.

I couldn't cum again, at least not right away, but my body was seizing, jerking, and making all kinds of uncontrollable movements as I moaned and cried.

Detective Haggerty forced the door open and burst into the room. I tried to ignore her entrance, but she broke the spell I was under, and no matter how hard I tried to drift back into the trance I'd been in, when she started yelling, everything stopped being wonderful.
"You're killing him!" Haggerty yelled at Erica. "His body can't handle that much ecstasy!"

Erica kept sliding her feet up and down on my erection, and I went in and out of consciousness, letting the world around us slip away, but then having it intrude on me once again.

"You can't have him," Erica told the detective.

"I don't want him, you crazy bitch," Haggerty told her. "You can have him. I just need to get this operation underway now. Marcello is waiting at the coffee shop and if he leaves, this operation falls apart."

For the first time since I entered Erica's room I became aware of the fact that I was wearing my Grandma disguise. That realization gave me a sudden feeling of discomfort, as I enjoyed what Erica was doing more than anything I'd experienced before, but I didn't think it fit with Grandma's personality and cover story.

"Okay," Erica said, sounding resigned as she took her feet away from my cock and got herself up to a standing position. "Take him, but you better bring him back in one piece."

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I take care of my informants."

"Oh, sweetie, I almost forgot to tell you something," Erica said as she gently grabbed my good arm.

"Yes, Miss Erica?"

"Remember how I told you about that guy Dirk, the one I've been seeing two or three times a week?"

"I remember."

"Things have been getting serious between us. I wasn't really sure how to tell you. I knew I needed to, and while I know this isn't the best time to tell you this, it isn't something I can keep from you any longer."

"What do you mean by serious?" I asked, my heart racing in a different direction than it had when she was stroking me with her feet.

"We can talk about it when you get back," she said, stroking my arm the way someone pets a dog. "I've been thinking a lot about my life, and I'm not getting any younger. Dirk isn't like other men I've been with, he's sensitive and caring. He's even talked about getting married."

I stood with my mouth agape, not knowing what to say. Then Detective Haggerty grabbed my other arm, the one with the cast on it, and started pulling me towards the door.

"We have to go, foot boy, come on," she said firmly.

"I have to get into character," I told her. "You need to call me Grandma."

"Okay, Grandma, let's go."

Detective Haggerty led me to my car and told me to drive. She got in on the passenger side and rode with me to the hole in the wall breakfast place. When we got there, she put her hand on my leg and told me to wait for a moment before going in.

"You realize that woman is just messing up your head," she told me. "She doesn't love you, Keith. She's just using you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. "My name is Grandma and my late husband has been gone for twenty years now."

"Okay, go meet Marcello. We can talk about this later."

I was distracted by many thoughts as I approached the breakfast place. The most distressing of those thoughts was of Jimmy and Cat spending so much time in my bedroom. I really hoped they weren't breaking or moving my things and hoped they intended to wash the sheets on my bed when they were through.

I walked into the restaurant and immediately saw Grandpa and Whitney, sitting at a table together. She was having eggs and bacon with coffee. Grandpa was having coffee as well, but he was eating oatmeal, a favorite of old timers.

"Should I sit down and join you or are we ready to scurry off on our grand adventure?" I asked.

"Have you eaten?" Grandpa asked.

"No, I haven't, and I probably should as I received quite a workout this morning."

"You 'received' a workout? How intriguing," remarked Grandpa. "Join us, we have some time."

I was a bit torn about his response. Detective Haggerty had insisted we needed to rush to the restaurant before Whitney and Grandpa left for the cabin without me, but now that I had arrived they seemed to be in no rush whatsoever.

I ordered items I thought would be typical of an old lady, such as oatmeal and prune juice, and the three of us ate together like old friends. While I tried to choke down the prune juice without appearing distressed by its foul taste, Whitney began a story.

"I went fishing with my uncle once," she said. "We went down to this pond and he showed me how to cast my line into the water and I reeled in this huge marlin and he was embarrassed by my good fortune and never took me fishing again."

"You caught a marlin in a pond?" Grandpa asked. "Is this story in any way true?"

"I have an uncle," she reported.

Once we finished, Grandpa used the power of chivalry to pay for all our meals, and we were off to the cabin. He led the way outside and Whitney and I followed close behind. His car, an old wood paneled station wagon, was loaded with supplies but had ample room for three passengers without having to sit with luggage on your lap. I was glad for that. When I was young my parents had a small car and when we went on trips I had to sit in the back seat with all of the luggage and other items we owned on top of me.

"Yay! Road trip!" exclaimed Whitney, who was wearing a tube top and daisy dukes, which revealed she had no reason to be wearing long pants. Her legs were far from being as reality defying as Erica's, but they were long, lean, and fairly toned. She did need to get more sun, however, as while her thighs were not pale, they were definitely on the lighter side of beige.

"I haven't seen a young lady in a top like that since 1979," I told Whitney, speaking in regards to her tube top. "Wherever did you find such a thing?"

"It was in my mom's things when she died. I kind of like the way it makes my boobs look."

"Oh, I agree with you, honey," said Grandpa. "Your boobs look great."

"Thanks, Grandpa."

"Oh my," I was heard to remark. Her breasts were actually quite small, and were barely noticeable, even in the tube top.

I was in the back seat, as Grandpa wanted Whitney up front so he could look at her and occasionally grope her. She giggled at him and called him a "dirty old man" when he did things like move his tongue around in his mouth and push it against the inside of his cheek repeatedly. I found it reprehensible, but somehow titillating.

I tried not to be obvious when I'd turn and look behind us. I was trying to see if the two detectives were following in the surveillance van, but it was hard to see anything with all the luggage and boxes of undetermined contents piled up in the back of the station wagon.

We stopped for gas, at which point Grandpa said we were only fifteen minutes away from our destination. I told Grandpa I needed to stretch my legs, at which point he turned to Whitney and said, "I'll stretch your legs later," and then made farm sounds before saying, "Ooh, ooh, piggy! Ooh, ooh, piggy piggy!"

"Stretching my legs" was an excuse to walk around to try to see if I could see any sign of the surveillance van. There were a few families, probably actual families rather than people pretending they were a family for weird sexual reasons, at the gas station, which sat at the entrance to a national park. I didn't see the surveillance van anywhere, and hoped that was because Detective Haggerty was very clever and good at her job and not because they'd gotten lost trying to follow us.

"We're at a gas station at the entrance to a national park," I said out loud, knowing the wire I was wearing would pick it up. "I hope you are still following us. If not, he says we're only fifteen minutes away from the cabin."

Whitney raced past me, giggling loudly. Grandpa was chasing her with his hands outstretched in front of him making pig noises and chanting, "Sooooweeeee... Sooooooweeeeeee..."

There was a loudspeaker not far from where I was standing, but I was unaware of its presence until an announcement came over it.

"There is a telegram for Keith the foot boy at the cashier. Please come and retrieve it if you are here."

I had never received a telegram before and thought they had gone out of style like telephone booths. I tried to act casual, not wanting Grandpa or Whitney to see me respond to the announcement, but they were still running around acting out some kind of farm routine, so I started towards the gas station cashier.

"You have a telegram for Keith?" I asked, using my regular voice despite being in full old lady dress.

"Yes, is he here?"

"I'm traveling with him. Can I pick it up and bring it to the car for him?"

"He has to get it himself."

"Can I show you his driver's license to prove that I'm with him?"

"He has to get it himself."

Not knowing what else to do, I went into the men's room and quickly changed back into my regular self. I didn't have any clothes other than the old lady clothes, but there were some rubbery fishing pants in the station wagon. They were the kind a fisherman wears when wading out into water that comes up to his waist, "hip waders" I believe they are called, so I bought a tourist type t-shirt from the cashier and went into the bathroom to change.

"I'm Keith," I said very seriously. "Do you have a telegram for me?" I asked.

"Yes, sir," the cashier said. "Just sign for it here and it's all yours."

He pointed to where I had to sign and I took the telegram into the men's room. After I changed back into my old lady secret identity clothes, I looked at the telegram to see what it said.

"We didn't lose you. Don't panic."

That was all it said. It wasn't signed and gave no information as to who had sent it. I figured it was a crank telegram and threw it in the trash.

We were underway again. As Grandpa drove up a steep incline, which he said led up to the cabin, I continued to worry about whether or not the two detectives were still following us. I wished that the wire worked both ways, as in enabling them to communicate with me instead of just allowing them to hear everything I said and did. That way I would have some idea if they were still following Grandpa's station wagon.

As things stood, I had no idea if I was going off into the unknown without anyone to back me up if there was trouble. We were only minutes away from a cabin where the man who had killed Ray Mundo was hiding out. Things were getting very tense and I was regretting not having tinkled while in the men's room.

devotion   absolute  

Jul 16, 2018 in femdom

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