Marco in the Park

by Nick Brady

Part 1

© 2014 - 2015, Nick Brady, all rights reserved.

It was almost 8:00 on a Friday night when I finally got out of the office. The sandwich I found in the vending machine had been a meager substitute for lunch and I was starving. I swung by Luigi's Fine Italian Foods on the way home, hoping to catch them in time for some of their excellent lasagna before they closed. There were still a few customers finishing their dinner but the place was almost empty. I found a table by the front window.

I expected to see Maria who usually served me, but my menu was brought by a kid I had not seen before.

"Good evening, my name is Marco and I will be your server tonight," he recited what had only recently been memorized. He was properly dressed in black jeans, a long sleeved white shirt with black bow tie, with a long black apron tied loosely in the back.

I took the menu and looked him over. "Thank you Marco. What do you recommend tonight?" I asked.

"Uh, it's all good," he said tactfully, and glanced away with an uncertain air about him. He had not yet been coached on how to answer that question.

"I don't think I have seen you in here before. Are you new?"

He smiled shyly. "It's my first week. Does it show?"

"You're doing fine." I returned his smile. "My name is Marty. Bring me some lasagna, a Cesar salad, and a glass of the house Chianti, OK?"

He nodded, gave me a grateful look, and darted away. I looked at his slender frame as he walked to the kitchen. He was a nice looking boy, probably 18 to be working here, but he looked younger than that. At 25 I probably seemed like an old guy to him.

I liked his broad shoulders and slender hips. He had a dark complexion and was lean but looked very fit. I thought he could be Hispanic, Native American, or even Middle Eastern. His face was fine featured with high cheekbones and large dark eyes, but the thing that grabbed me was his long black hair. It was pulled back straight and hung halfway down his back in a long ponytail that curled a little at the ends. I was a sucker for boys with long hair. His girlfriend was probably jealous of that hair.

I wanted a smoke. He came back with my salad and the glass of wine in a few minutes and I asked him. "It is nice outside. Would you mind if I moved to the patio?"

"No, not at all. It's kind of stuffy in here." He turned and led me out to the little patio in the back.

He sat me at one of the three tables out there, put down the salad and wine and pulled a lighter from his pocket to light the candle that sat in the middle of the table. "Do you want me to get a table cloth for you?"

"No, that's OK, but I could use a fork."

"Oh! Just a minute, sorry."

He disappeared then reappeared momentarily with silver, a napkin and white tablecloth. He set the table next to me, moved my food and the candle and pulled out a chair. "Sorry, I'm new," he apologized. My wine and I changed tables.

"That's OK. This is nicer than I expected. Thanks."

He looked grateful and scurried back inside. I was tired and felt a little cross. I hoped I had not sounded sharp to him. He seemed like a very nice kid. Looking around, I appreciated that it was a warm June evening and the patio was quite pleasant. I lit a cigarette and sipped my wine. In a few minutes he returned with a basket of bread, a dish of butter, and a bottle of the house Chianti.

"Hey, that's OK, I just ordered a glass," I explained. "I'm on a budget."

He gave me a shy grin. "That's OK. I won't tell if you won't."

By the time I finished the salad, he showed up with my lasagna.

I instinctively leaned over and gave it a long sniff. "Man, that smells good. I'm starving."

"They have good lasagna here," he agreed.

I glanced back inside. "The place is looking deserted. You about through?"

"Yeah, you are the last one." He looked as tired as I felt.

I liked this kid. "I hate to eat alone," I said. "Want to keep me company?"

He looked unsure. "I don't think I'm supposed to do that."

I smiled at him. "I won't tell if you won't. Get yourself a glass."

He broke into a broad grin and scooted away. In a few minutes he returned sans apron and bow tie and with his long black hair hanging around his shoulders. "I clocked out," he explained, and set an empty glass on the table.

I cracked the bottle of wine and filled both glasses, pushing the pack of cigarettes his way. "You legal?" I asked.

He grinned and shrugged. "I won't tell if... you know."

I had to laugh at that. "This is good lasagna, you hungry?"

"That was the last of it. And I already ate anyway," he replied. "But thanks." He glanced back inside then sipped his wine.

We made the usual small talk. He was still in high school, a Senior next year, no brothers or sisters, didn't know what he wanted to do when he finished high school, and liked to play soccer. The only thing that surprised me was he played the violin.

"Really?" I asked. "What kind of music do you like?"

He said he liked all kinds, mostly bluegrass, jazz and classic rock. In the school orchestra it was mostly light classics, and yeah, he liked that OK.

I finished the lasagna and now it was my turn. I lit another cigarette and pushed the pack towards him. I am Marty, 25, out of college 2 years, work as a computer programmer, single, no kids, no girlfriend, also played a little soccer in high school, and admitted I played piano.

That made him smile. "What kind of music?" He fished out a smoke and lit it off the candle.

I admitted to some pop, some jazz, and yes, some classical, but I wasn't very good at it.

The conversation gravitated towards music and we played the 'do you like this, do you like that', game, until we identified some things we had in common. An old Hispanic man came through pushing a broom and Marco sat up.

"They are closing," he said. "We need to get out of here."

I looked at my watch. "Damn, it is after 10. Time flies," I said.

Marco looked worried. He got up and asked the sweeper something, then returned looking frustrated.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing. Well, my mom was supposed to pick me up but she hasn't come."

"Maybe she didn't know what time you got off," I suggested.

"I told her. I guess she forgot."

"Could your dad come get you, or someone else?"

He shook his head. "There isn't anyone else, just Mom, and well, she drinks a little."

My eyebrows went up. "Actually, sometimes she drinks a lot," he said in a quiet voice.

"Maybe I could give you a ride home. Where do you live?"

"That's OK, it's about 10 miles from here, and probably out of your way."

I thought for a moment then asked. "What are your alternatives?"

He gave me a straight look. "You really don't mind? I mean, that would be really nice of you."

I gave him a little smile. "Maybe I'm a nice guy."

He returned the smile. "Yeah, maybe you are."

I stood as if to leave. "Well, let's go. I need to pay for this."

He shook his head. "Too late, the cash register is closed." He saw me frown and added. "No, really, don't worry about it. I guess it's on the house."

"I won't tell if you won't," I said and we both laughed.

He stood and we walked out into the night air. It was cooler now and there was a little breeze blowing. A nice night to be outside. We walked the half block to where I had parked my car. It was the only one on the street now.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

He gave me an address and some general directions. "I know the area," I said. "Just on the other side of the old park, right?"

"Yes. Actually, it's nice in the park at night. You could drive through there if you wanted to," he suggested.

I got a little tingle. "Sure, I'm in no hurry."

When we got over to his side of town, I swung off through the park. He was right, it was nice in there. The air was sweet with honeysuckle and the garden of old roses that was at the center. As a matter of fact, it would be a great place to take a lover. I wondered if he liked to bring his girlfriend here.

He spoke in a quiet voice. "Would you mind if we stopped for a smoke before you take me home?"

"Sure. That would be good," I agreed. "You were right about it being nice in here at night. The air smells really sweet." I pulled the car over, shut off the engine and rolled down the windows. The moon was about three quarters full, and when I doused my lights I could see that it was shining pretty brightly. I offered him the cigarettes. "It almost seems like a shame to pollute the air."

He took one and pulled the lighter out of his pocket, first lighting his, then leaning over and holding the flame out for me.

"I been trying to quit," he shrugged, and continued to lean in my direction after my cigarette was lit.

I took a long drag. "Yeah, me too," I chuckled. His head was resting on the seat back and he was looking right at me.

"Do you bring your girlfriend over here at night?" I fished a little.

"No, I walk over here a lot of nights though," he took a long pull on his cigarette. "I don't really have a girlfriend."

"No? That surprises me. I mean, you are a nice looking guy, charming and all," I shot him a grin.

He glanced at me and shrugged. "No, I don't guess I like girls that much."

I was definitely feeling a tingle. "No? What do you like Marco?"

He took a deep breath and let it out. His eyes stayed on me. "I guess I kind of like guys. Nice guys."

"OK. I am cool with that. So do you have a boyfriend?" I could feel my shorts getting tight.

He looked down at his cigarette. "I don't much like guys my age. They seem, like immature."

"So do you like old guys, daddy types?" Now I was fishing deep.

"No." He shook his head as if surprised that I would ask. "No, not old men. I like young guys," he took another deep drag and looked down. "Nice guys, like you."

Either this kid was putting me on, or he was coming on awfully strong. "You guessing that I'm gay or something?" I asked him.

He looked back at me with big eyes and swallowed. "I'm hoping you are," he spoke almost in a whisper.

I still wasn't sure I believed him. "Are you putting me on, or what?"

Now he looked down and leaned back towards his side of the car. "I'm sorry. I guess I misunderstood. I can just walk on home from here if you like."

He started to open the car door but I reached over and put my hand on his shoulder. "Wait!" It was the first touch between us. "Wait, don't go."

He sat back and just looked at me with those big dark eyes. His long black hair had fallen over part of his face. It was my turn to explain.

"Look kid, I'm queer as a duck and I think you are about the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. What else do you want to know?"

His face shifted from disappointment, to surprise, to delight. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I guess I misunderstood you too, or was afraid to hope. I think I could like you a lot," I left my hand on his shoulder. "But I'm afraid I'm a little too old for you."

He leaned in towards me and grinned. "I won't tell if you won't."

I sighed. "Dammit Marco. Don't come on to me like that. Self control is not my strong suit."

He looked a little worried again. "Am I too young for you? I mean, maybe you don't like guys my age."

My reservations quickly began to melt away as my cock rose in my pants. "No, it's not that at all, but I don't want either of us to get in trouble. For all I know, you're still a virgin."

He gave me a look that was wiser than his years. "Were you still a virgin when you were a high school senior?"

"No, I was 13, but it was with a boy my same age, not with a guy in college. That makes a difference."

He gave me an almost evil grin. "Well we were 12. I have been with an old guy too, but I didn't like that so much."

"How old was he?" I asked out of curiosity.

He shrugged. "I don't know, he had gray hair. One of my mother's boyfriends. It was his idea."

"But you and me, I mean is this your idea, something you want to do?" I was sliding over the edge.

He hesitated. "Well, you were really nice to me tonight. I don't want to go home to an empty house and jerk off by myself again. That's what I do every night."

He leaned his head over on my hand which was still on his shoulder. His long black hair felt cool on my arm. "Couldn't we just play around a little?" Those big dark eyes were looking at me intently.

He sat up quickly. "Let's go sit over there," he said, pointing to a picnic table set back in the trees. He stepped out of my car and walked over to the table, glancing back to see if I would follow. I did.

He sat down on top of the picnic table and raised his arms as I came near. When I ran my fingers into his long hair he turned his face up and kissed me, rather we kissed each other. He was good at it. I was a lost cause from that point on.

We embraced and began to kiss passionately. He started making little mewling noises and rubbed my back with his hands. I could feel firm muscles and sinews under his white shirt. My God, this boy was so beautiful.

He pulled back for a breath and slipped off his shirt. "Let me get this white shirt off," he whispered. "It kind of shines in the moonlight." Then he began to tug at the tail of my polo shirt. "You too."

In moment we were both naked from the waist up, and quickly pressed against each other, naked skin against naked skin, lips and tongues together in earnest now. I ran my hands down the back of his black jeans to feel his firm ass.

He began to mumble into my face as we kissed. "Yes, oh, yeah, Mmm, I like that." He ran his hands up and down my sides and over my chest. "Oh Marty, you're really strong, so nice." He whispered.

Before I knew it, he had unzipped my khakis and ran his hand inside my boxers. I was rock hard and dripping. His hand set my cock free and it slapped up against my belly. "God, you're big," he gushed.

He pushed my pants down to my knees then shucked his own and gave me a look at his cock and balls. He was no slouch in the size department. He was intact and his pubes were dark, bushy and untrimmed, long black hair curling around his cock just above his balls. Perfect, everything about this boy was natural and perfect.

He pushed me back a step and sat down on the bench, placing his face at my crotch and took me into his hands. I gasped as his mouth took me inside, all hot and wet and alive. His long black hair fell over my stomach and down the front of my legs. It felt like cool silk. I was lost, given over to the moment with this sweet, beautiful, passionate boy. I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him into me.

Just as suddenly he stood up, stretched back over the table and urged. "Now do me."

He was very erect, his foreskin pulled back from the glans which was pink against the darker skin of his penis. I took him deep in my throat and pressed my face into his straight black pubic hair. He smelled good. One hand cupped his nuts and pulled down on them gently while the other passed quickly over his muscular chest and stomach. He was the most beautiful creature I had ever held in my arms. He took my face between his hands and panted loudly. I was giving him the best I had.

He kicked his jeans from his feet and wrapped his bare legs around my waist, squeezing me tight and drawing me close. He threw his arms around my shoulders and got as close to me as was physically possible, bucking his hips and twisting himself into my face.

After a couple of minutes his panting grew louder and he gasped. "Ahh! Watch out, I'm going to cum!"

He made a guttural sound, like he was trying to cry and hold his breath at the same time. I glanced up to see that his head was thrown back and his mouth was wide open. He was gasping for breath like he had just finished a marathon.

I have never had a great taste for semen, but I wanted his. I pumped my face into his crotch and let him blast his juice down my throat. Part of it went directly into my stomach but on the upstroke I got a mouthful. I liked it. The few times I had tasted another guy's cum I didn't particularly care for it. But his was a mild, sort of sweet and salty combination that I didn't mind at all. Maybe it was just him.

I kept him in my mouth until he stopped twitching and I felt his arms and legs relax their grip on me.

I looked up at him and grinned. "How was that?" I asked.

He looked down at me and tried to catch his breath. His eyes were huge and his mouth was hanging open. "That good, huh?" I laughed.

"Yes, oh yes!" he panted. "That was, I mean, I never.... Wow!"

I had to laugh. "I thought you had done this before."

He shook his head. "Not like that. That was.... I can't describe it."

His long beautiful hair was all over the place. It was a warm humid evening and we had both worked up a sweat. Wavy strands of his hair were stuck to his face and thrown across his shoulders. His dark bush of pubic hair was wet and stuck to his belly by a mixture of his cum and my slobber. The moon illuminated his face enough for me to see that his face was wet with tears and sweat. I was overcome by a feeling of affection and concern for him. I had rocked his soul and he would not forget this evening, nor would I.

"Hey, Marco. Are you OK?" I asked with genuine concern.

He let out a long breath. "Oh yeah. I'm great. I have been waiting for that my whole life."

I wasn't sure I understood. "How so?"

He stretched himself out on the table and sighed. "I started messing around with some boys my age when I was in about the sixth grade and have done stuff with a few guys that were a little older. But it was always just kind of like we wanted to get each other off. This was way different. It seemed like you were trying to make it special"

I gave him a smile. "That's because I really was trying to make it special. I'm afraid I could fall for you Marco."

He gave me a beautiful smile, both innocent and lustful, if that is possible. "When you walked into the restaurant tonight, I wanted to be with you," he said. "I didn't think you would give me a second look."

"Really? Damn, that is sweet," I said. "I felt exactly the same way when you came up with the menu."

It was now well after midnight and there was almost no traffic on the streets outside the park. I bent down and removed my khakis which were still hanging over my shoe tops, and stretched out on the picnic table next to him. Then I busied myself with smoothing his hair from his face, and stroking his chest. This made him smile a very beautiful smile. His teeth were white against his brown skin.

He took my face in his hands and brought me up for another long kiss. "I want you to fuck me." He said very simply.

His directness surprised me. "Are you sure? You ever been fucked?"

"Yeah, kinda. Well, not really," he waffled.

I laughed. "What kind of an answer is that? It's a pretty simple question."

He grinned. "Well, when I was a little kid I tried it a couple of times with some guys, but I don't think we did it right."

"Why? What did you do?"

"Hey, we were 12, we didn't know what we were doing. We rubbed our dicks in each others butt cracks, which felt pretty good. Then we stuck our dicks between each others legs and humped around. That felt good too but we weren't sure if that was fucking."

I had to laugh. "Yeah? Then what?"

He was getting tickled. "Later we figured out that we were supposed to stick our dicks up each others asses, but we weren't long enough to do it right," he snorted. "This sounds so lame."

"Did you ever figure it out?" I chuckled.

"Yes," he nodded. "When I was fourteen. That was the first time I really did it."

"How old was the other guy?"

"I think he was fifteen. He said he was straight but he seemed to know a lot about it. It wasn't really that great."

"What about your mom's boyfriend?" I asked, then realized I shouldn't have.

"I'm sorry, that's none of my business."

He ran his hand over my chest. "No, that's OK. I guess I can tell you. He tried to stick his dick in my ass but I wouldn't let him, so he made me suck him off."

"Was that tough for you?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. I wouldn't let him cum in my mouth though." He frowned a little. "I'm sorry I spooged in your mouth. Was it gross?"

"No, I wanted you to," I smoothed his hair. "It was sweet as candy."

He gave me a skeptical look. "No it wasn't. I know what my cum tastes like."

"Maybe it's an acquired taste. Like oysters," I suggested.

He snorted again. "I don't think so."

We grew quiet and then he asked me again. "So don't you want to fuck me?"

"Do you really want me to?"

He looked serious. "Yes, I really do."

"I might hurt you." I cautioned.

"No you won't. You'll know how to do it so it won't hurt," he said. "I trust you."

"How do you know? You only met me tonight."

"I just know. Will you do it, please?"

"Oh Marco. I never wanted to do anything so much in my life," I admitted.

He turned on his side and kissed me very sweetly. "I really like you," he smiled. Then he took my cock in his hands and began to stroke me. I was already hard. I had not lost my erection since we first kissed.

"I should use a condom," I told him. "I don't have any rubbers."

"I don't care," he said. "I mean do you really need to? Are you sick or something?"

"No. I gave blood about a month ago and they always test people when they give blood. I'm OK. But you should be careful," I warned him.

"I know," he smiled. "Is it safe to trust you?"

I started to warn him that I didn't have any lube either, then realized that argument was futile. Besides, I knew how to get around that.

"Lie back and raise your legs," I told him. He did as I asked.

I started to rim him, licking his crack, slobbering and sucking on his ass hole to get him good and wet. He grabbed me by the hair, whimpered and thrashed his legs in the air on either side of me. From the way he reacted, I doubted he had ever had his ass eaten before. If not, then I wanted his first experience to be a good one.

"Whoa! Oh God, that feels good! Ahhh!" I hoped there was no one within earshot, but figured we were safe. If not, it was too late now.

I wet my finger and slid it up his ass, getting him slick and loosening him up. He seemed fine with that so took things a step further.

I moved up so that my cock was at his face. "Get me wet," I instructed him. He sucked and slobbered on my dick with a great deal of enthusiasm.

Moving back down I leaned in between his outstretched legs and put my cock against his ass hole. It was very wet. I pushed in slowly, watching his face for any sign of pain. His eyes were wide and he was taking short breaths.

"Try to relax," I told him. "Tell me if I hurt you, and I'll stop."

He did his best to follow my instructions. I increased the pressure and felt the head of my penis pop through his sphincter.

He jumped and I stopped quickly. "You OK?"

"Yes," he assured me. "Just go slow. You're kind of big."

I waited a moment, then pushed again. I could feel myself ease into his rectum. "OK?"

He nodded and closed his eyes. "I'm OK." He was taking shallow breaths and nodding his head rapidly.

Watching his face carefully, I started easing in and out slowly, each time going a little deeper until I was balls deep in his ass. "Still OK?" I asked.

He smiled with his eyes still closed. "Yeah. I think you are in."

"I'm in baby. You got the whole enchilada," I assured him. "I don't know about you, but that feels great to me. You are really tight."

"It kind of hurts but feels good too," he told me. "Go on."

I began to slowly fuck him, going deep then pulling out almost all the way, watching his face and seeing him start to grin.

"It's starting to feel good," he said, and began to push up to meet me.

"You are starting to relax now," I told him. "Tell me if I hurt you."

"I knew I could trust you. This is really cool." His eyes were open now and he had a look of extreme pleasure on his face. "Oh, yeah, fuck me. I like it."

"This is really your first time, isn't it?"

"Yeah. The first time like this. This is nice. I knew it would be." He gave me this beautiful smile. Jeez, what a sweet boy.

Now we were really cooking. I increased the speed gradually and felt him relax and begin to work with me. We were syncing up, starting to fuck each other.

"Does that feel good to you?" he asked.

"Oh hell yeah. This is fantastic for me." I looked down at his smooth flawless body, his handsome face, his beautiful black hair. If I died at his moment I would already be in heaven.

We moved together like this for maybe five minutes and I felt myself getting close to climax. I wanted it to last. I pulled out.

"What's the matter? Don't stop," he protested. "I really like that."

"Me too, but I want to try something else." I traded places with him and lay back on the table.

"You get on top, straddle me and ride me," I instructed.

He got the idea and sat over my raging erection, reached back to take hold of it and guided me back into his ass. "Like that?"

"Oh yeah, that's it," I moaned. "Now you are in control. Fuck me Marco."

He supported himself with his hands on my chest and began to move up and down. "Damn, that's awesome!" he purred.

He looked thoughtful. "When you get to a certain place inside me, it feels really good." He had discovered his prostate.

"Right. Put me on that spot and make it nice for yourself. It all feels great to me." I dispensed with the technical explanation and just let him experience it for himself.

He was rocking on me, and his lovely cock was standing tall against his

belly. "Oh man, I want this to last forever. Go slow and think about how it feels to you baby," I told him.

He leaned over me and his long black hair fell around his face like a curtain. It felt so soft, brushing over my chest, adding another layer of pleasure to our shared experience. I looked up at him through the tunnel of dark hair and held his face.

"Stop! I'm too close!" I warned him. He froze, and threw his hair back behind himself. Looking down at me with an expression of ecstasy.

We had gone past fucking. We were making love to each other. We both were focused on giving the other pleasure. To give myself a break, I took his cock in my hand and began to fondle him, running my fingers loosely up and down his shaft, pulling the foreskin up over the head then pulling it back down.

I had never missed having a foreskin but was pleased to play with his. Not many guys were intact any more, and I was glad that he was all there. I was glad he had not decided to shave his pubes smooth as seemed to be the fad now. I was grateful that he let his beautiful hair grow long. He was just as he was created, and just as he should be.

I stroked him gently as he sat with my cock fully inserted in his butt. We were joined together as one body, at least for the moment. I focused on admiring him, and the edge of orgasm receded.

"Alright, let's start again. Do what feels good to you." I encouraged him.

He began to rock back and forth, letting my cock massage that special spot in his rectum, the place where his prostate was nearest to my cock. He had figured out what to do and how to do it, and in the process was giving me the ride of my life. I moved with him and we were united in a single purpose.

I watched him ride me, his eyes closed, his face relaxed. His long hair was swinging in time to our motion. I was sure this was his first time to experience a slow deep fuck, and I was so grateful to be part of it. He was perfect, and I wanted this experience to be perfect.

He had a look of bliss on his face as he rode me. I had taken my hands away from his cock and was holding on to his hips, when he took my hands and put them back on himself.

"Jack me off, I want to cum again," he begged.

I was coasting just at the point of climax again and did as he requested. I gripped him tight and began to stroke him earnestly.

"How is that?" I asked.

He answered by increasing his movement, squeezing his ass around my cock and rocking back and forth, stimulating both of us in the process.

"I'm going to cum!" I warned him.

He moved all that much faster and chanted. "Yes, yes, yes!"

I stroked his cock faster and faster until he leaned his head back and began to fire long strings of white cum over my chest and stomach. I tried to pull out of him but he clamped down on me and I could not hold back, but emptied myself into his bowels with a loud cry.

Marco collapsed on top of me. I briefly was concerned that he would get cum in his beautiful hair but it was too late to worry about that. We lay glued together by cum and sweat. I buried my face in his hair and held him tight. We lay still until I gradually lost my erection and fell out of his ass with a plop. Several minutes later I realized that my back would likely carry the imprint of the picnic table as permanent marks, and rolled the boy off so I could sit up.

Finally thinking about the time, I looked at my watch and saw that it was almost 2:00 in the morning. "Wow, I need to get you home!"

Marco started to retrieve his clothing from the ground and get dressed. "I don't want to go home," he said quietly.

"Won't your mother be worried?"

He laughed. "She's probably not even home. She likes to go out on Friday night and party. And if she was, she wouldn't care if I came home or not. Sometimes I stay out, or stay with a friend, or something."

"So where do you want me to take you?"

"How about to your place? Could I go home with you?" he asked. "Do you live by yourself?"

I felt like the luckiest man in the world. "Sure, it's too late to take you home now. Come over for the night, maybe we can work something out." My mind had started to race. There was no way I could just let this kid walk out of my life, not now.

Marco picked up my clothes and handed them to me. "Get dressed," he said with a smile. "Let's go home."

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