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Glamour Shots, Chapter 2

A husband discovers his wife's secret sensuality.
“Do you really believe that he wasn’t admiring your ass in that shot? You do have one of the world’s greatest asses you know.”

She laughed. “You’re so kind – and so classy, I might add.”

“Yeah, well, it just bugs me to think of him with a big old hardon while he was ogling my wife’s tits and ass.”

“Oh David, it wasn’t like that at all! He was too busy to notice! The entire time we were in the studio he was either taking pictures or talking to me, giving me encouragement and saying stuff like ‘great, perfect, you look so sexy like that, hold that pose for a second, you’re great, beautiful’, things to help me relax and be more natural, or else he was giving me instructions like ‘OK, look at the camera, tilt your chin up just a little, OK, now turn your head, towards me, bend your left leg forward slightly’ telling me exactly how he wanted me to pose.” She paused for a moment. “Like I said, I don’t think he ever looked at me except through his camera. It was all very professional, very…chaste.”

She went on – trying to convince herself as much as me, it seemed. “When he wasn’t telling me what to do, he was barking orders at Jenny, who was running around moving lights and reflectors, or arranging my hair, or my clothes – whatever he was telling her to do - and when he wasn’t either taking pictures or giving me or Jenny orders, he was always busy changing lenses or fiddling with his equipment.”

I grumbled “Yeah, well if I was watching you cavorting around dressed like that I’m sure I’d be fiddling with my equipment too.”

She caught my double-entendre almost immediately, and gave a surprised laugh. “I was not cavorting, and that’s not what I meant, and you’re not funny!”

“You laughed.”

“Yes, well, you caught me off-guard. Actually I’ll take it as a good sign, that you still have a sense of humor about it. So you’re not really upset?”

I shook my head. “Upset? No, I guess not, or at least that’s not the right word for what I’m feeling. Hell, I’m not sure what I’m feeling. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think we need to talk about it.”

She laughed again. “Yes, that is a switch, you wanting to ‘talk about it’. That’s supposed to be my line.” She looked at me for a moment, perhaps waiting for me to start the discussion. When I didn’t, she took over. “You know we could do that, talk about it, if that’s really what you want to do. As for me though, I’m starting to feel a blowjob coming on.”

“Umm, I suppose we could always talk later.”

She actually giggled. “I thought you might feel that way. I was thinking a nice blowjob would be a fine birthday present too.”

I nodded. “Absolutely! That beautiful portrait, dinner at a nice restaurant, and a blowjob too – what more could a man ask? It’s like the perfect birthday!”

She slid off my lap and went to her knees in front of me, her hands at my belt and zipper. “Oops! Looks like I’m just in time; it seems that Sir Leaksalot is up to his old tricks!”

About that name: Early in our relationship, not too long after we had first become…intimate, I suppose, she had discovered something that I had known since my early teens; she had discovered that when I’m very aroused, or when she had been teasing me for awhile, that I have a tendency to leak copious amounts of clear pre-cum. So much so, in fact that if she hadn’t also been quite successful at self-lubricating, I probably would have been entirely capable of supplying enough lubricant for both of us. (Never a concern, as she seemed to be perpetually wet and ready!)

She had almost immediately dubbed my penis “Sir Leaksalot”; I don’t know, maybe she’s a fan of Camelot or something, but for whatever reason the name had stuck and that was how she addressed my cock from that point forward. I’ll admit that I wasn’t crazy about it, but I was so thrilled that a beautiful woman like Alli was addressing my cock at all – by any name - that I let it pass.

Now, looking down, I could see that she was correct. I had a dark, dime-sized wet spot on the front of my slacks where my secretions had seeped through as she had rubbed against me. She quickly got my pants unfastened and my zipper lowered, and she then asked me to raise up so that she could get my pants and my boxers tugged down past my hips and butt. That task accomplished, she leaned forward and ran her tongue over the tip of my aching cock. She leaned back slightly, licking her lips, and wrapped her left hand around me, while with her right hand she wagged a finger scoldingly at my penis. “Shame on you Sir Leaksalot, making a wet spot on Davey’s good work pants like that! Why, I’m of a mind to give you a good tongue-lashing!”

I groaned, but couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, that’s really bad. You do know that puns are the lowest form of humor, right?”

“Careful buster – you’re in a very vulnerable position here you know. You think you’re the only one entitled to make bad jokes? Two can play at that game!” With that she took me deeply into her mouth, engulfing the entirety of my cock as her lips wrapped around the base. I could feel her tongue flicking and caressing me as she slowly backed off, allowing me to slowly slide out between her lips until I slid free with a soft slurp. She looked up at me. “Two can also play at this game. In fact, it’s almost mandatory.”

I reached out and ran my fingers through her hair. “Almost?”

She nodded. “Yes; I’m allowing for the possibility that there are things I don’t know.”

“All while demonstrating a skill that you definitely do know. Multi-tasking; I’m impressed.” A blowjob from Allison is truly one of life’s great moments, one every guy should experience at least once in his life. Wait, strike that; she’s mine, and you cannot borrow her! Really though, she puts her entire self into it, stroking, caressing, sucking, licking, and generating sensations that have to be felt to be believed. She focuses entirely on giving pleasure, on making love to my cock, and she seems to truly love doing it, to derive significant pleasure herself from performing the act. The fact that she obviously enjoys it so much is one of the things that make it so much better for me; for the sake of honesty though, I have to admit that even if she wasn’t enjoying it I’m pretty sure I still would. Hey, I’m a guy! What can I say?

She was into it now, her head bobbing up and down over my lap as my fingers remained tangled in her hair. I’m not huge in the penis department, by any means, but not tiny either; utterly average in fact, if the statistics are to be believed, a little under six inches, not pencil-thin but not to be confused with a beer can either, and of a size that she seems very able to handle. And handle it she was! She redirected her attention to my balls for a moment, licking across my swollen sack before first sucking one testicle into her mouth for a tongue massage, and then releasing that one to give the same treatment to the other. I groaned at the sensations that were right on that line between pleasure and pain as she worked my testicles in her mouth, staying just barely, perfectly, on the pleasure side. She followed that by licking all the way up the underside of my shaft, her tongue flattened against me as she stared up into my eyes.

It’s an intensely erotic experience just to watch her as she’s doing this, even if I hadn’t been the one receiving the benefit of all the physical sensations that go along with it, and she seemed to derive some of that same pleasure from watching me as I watched her. She swirled her tongue around the head of my cock, teasing the tender opening before sliding me into her mouth, just an inch or so in order to focus all of her skills on the most sensitive part. I made a sound that was half-gasp, half-groan. “I’m probably not going to last very long – especially if you keep that up.”

She slid me free and laughed. “I can tell; you’re leaking a river. It’s OK baby, come whenever you want to. You’ve lasted long enough that nobody will think you’re a one-pump chump. Two, maybe, but not one.”

“Cute. You have been teasing me and rubbing up against me for awhile now, you know.”

“Mmm, yes, I do know.” She leaned back and tugged my pants and underwear free, pushing them all the way down so that they bunched around my ankles before shoving my legs apart and nestling herself in between. She cupped my balls in one hand and gripped my cock with the other while she looked at it. “You sure do have a beautiful penis, mister.”

This was something that had become a game between us; she would say some variation of those same words, and I would try to come up with some silly, funny, or clever response. It had started the first time she had paid my package the compliment and I hadn’t really known how to respond. “Thanks” had seemed somehow inadequate or inappropriate, and “Thanks, you too” surely didn’t apply, so I had made some inane remark that made her laugh, and it grew from there.

This time I said “Why thank you! Yeah, I saw it in a catalog and thought it looked interesting, so I went ahead and ordered one. I’m a little disappointed, because it looked bigger in the picture. I’m thinking about seeing if they’ll let me exchange it for the next larger size.”

It worked; she laughed. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that! This one actually fits you very well. Even more important, it fits me perfectly – which brings up a question: Since it’s your birthday, I’m going to let you choose where you would like to come. You can choose from in my mouth, on my face, inside of me, in my ass - or on my ass, or pretty much anyplace else that strikes your fancy – except not in my eyes. I hate it when I get cum in my eye!”

“Darn! And that was going to be my choice, right in your eye - or not.” I pretended to ponder the question, but in reality I knew exactly where I wanted to climax. “Hmmm, having given it a lot of thought, I think I’d like to come way up inside of you – if that works for you.”

“Oh, definitely! Great answer as a matter of fact, the one that I was hoping for.” She leaned in and engulfed me in her mouth again, sucking at me enthusiastically while her hand squeezed and caressed my scrotum. Another thirty seconds of this and it was going to be all over…literally and figuratively.

I put my hand under her chin and raised her head. She looked up at me my cock still halfway into her mouth. “In case you hadn’t realized it, you’re rapidly approaching the finish line.”

She let me slip from her lips, maintaining suction so that it made a soft ‘pop’ sound, like a champagne cork heard from a distance. “I could tell; you’re really, really hard, just the way I like it. Which means it’s time for this.” She stood and swung her leg over me, quickly straddling my lap. She lowered herself to where she could rub the straining tip of my penis across her slippery sex, which she did for a moment or two before reaching back, gripping me, and guiding me into her tight, slick heat. She let out a soft gasp, as she always does when the head of my cock pushes through the snug muscles at the opening of her tunnel, and then sank down on me, taking my entire cock into herself until her ass was pressed tightly against my balls. The sensation is exquisite, like no other, and I almost came.

I’m not sure why I didn’t. Maybe it was the memory of her ”one-pump chump” remark; probably it was sheer luck. Whatever the reason, I was lost in her velvet grip, on the edge of orgasm, my heart pounding as I held my breath and willed myself to hold back. Perhaps sensing my struggle – or perhaps just wanting to prolong things for her own enjoyment – she held very still, until the ripples of orgasm that had been building in my lower belly subsided. “Whew! Thanks. I think I’m OK now.”

“You’re not going to come?”

“Oh no, I definitely am – just not right this second. I make no guarantees; ten seconds from now, who knows?”

“Hmm. Tell you what birthday boy; why don’t you see if you can keep that candle from melting long enough for it to light all the candles on my cake too?”

I laughed, although it came out sounding something like a groan as she began to move up and down on me, her hips flexing. “A birthday metaphor – how cleverly appropriate! Maybe I should see if I can help light a few of those candles you mentioned.” So saying, I quickly jerked the belt of her robe loose and spread the two sides open, exposing her breasts. I slid my hands up her stomach and over her ribcage to those lovely orbs, until I was cupping them in my hands, and began to gently squeeze and fondle. Her breasts are firm, not huge, as I’ve mentioned, and sensitive. She loves to have them played with, provided it’s done lovingly, gently, and with a bit of finesse. Over our years together she’d taught me exactly how to give her the most pleasure in this way, and right now I was eager to return some small measure of the pleasure she’d brought to me.

My fingertips found her nipples, already stiffly erect, and I brushed my fingers across them, eliciting a small moan. Next I gently pinched them between my thumb and fingers, slightly tugging and slightly rolling the hard nubs, teasing and arousing her further. She groaned in appreciation “Uunnnh yes, that will do it!”

She had been slowly moving up and down on me as I’d been playing with her breasts, and I could sense a slight increase in her pace. Each time she rode down on me she took me in fully, impaling herself on my hardness to maximum depth, and each time she lifted up she would stop when only the head of my penis was still in, pausing for a moment before taking me fully inside of her once again.

I leaned forward and lowered my head to kiss her nipples, first the right one and then the left, staying on the left to tease and suck at it, flicking it with the tip of my tongue, and then gave the other the same attention. As I did, I felt her body tense, and then she shuddered as a small orgasm rocked her. As it passed she opened her eyes and looked at me, and I smiled. “Happy birthday!”

“Ssshhh. It’s your birthday – you’re supposed to be the one getting off.”

I tongued her nipple some more. “Mmm-hmmm, but I’m more than willing to share. I like that part too, the part where you come.” Her nipples were fully involved now, rosy, dark and puckered, jutting out proudly like they were in the photos. I leaned back to admire them, and a random though crossed my mind. I looked up at her. “Can I ask you a question?”

Her eyes had been closed again, her mind focused on sensations and pleasure; now she opened them. “If you must; I’m kind of busy here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, I noticed, trust me. It’s about the pictures…”

“You want to talk about that now? Unbelievable!”

“Just one question.” She just looked at me. “OK, here goes. Was it cold in the studio, when you were posing for the pictures?”

She looked puzzled for a moment, and then seemed to understand what I was asking. Her face began to color as a blush rose up, apparent even above and beyond the rosy blush of arousal already present on her chest, neck, and face, and she quickly leaned forward and buried her face against my neck to hide her embarrassment. After a moment or two of silence, she mumbled against my shoulder “No, it was comfortable. Warm, even, with the lights and all.”

I nodded. “Oh.” I debated whether to forge ahead, and then did. “I was just wondering, playing with your nipples here, and the way they were in the pictures, all hard and everything…”

“I was aroused, David. Very aroused. Deeply, incredibly, almost painfully aroused. My nipples were so hard they ached.”

That, in a nutshell, was what I’d been wondering about. I thought maybe that was the case. I had not expected such an open declaration of it from her, however. “Oh. Huh! Why?” With her blunt statement she’d managed to reduce me to a monosyllabic dolt. Great! Swell! Damn.

“I don’t really know, Davey. It was just…he made me feel so special, so sexy and…sensual, I guess, the way he kept praising me and telling me I was beautiful and sexy and everything. And then also I was half-naked and…”

“More than half!”

“Yes, I suppose that’s right. But once I relaxed and just went with it, it was all so…I don’t know. Freeing, I suppose. Liberating. That’s it; it was very liberating, like all of my inhibitions just sort of went away. And that was exciting, to be so free, to just move and let him take pictures, and tell me I was beautiful. It was very liberating for me, and I found that very arousing. I was kinda shocked myself, but I was intensely aroused by that feeling of freedom. So yes, my nipples were hard… and I was also very wet, almost dripping. By the time we were done there I was so damn horny that I was on fire!”

Any thought that I might have had that my pending orgasm had receded, that I might be able to go on for awhile, were quickly squelched. Allison telling me that she had been aroused by her experience, that, indeed, she had been intensely horny while she was posing for those pictures, had for some reason sent dozens of tiny electric shocks straight to my groinal region, proving yet again that our brains are our most important erogenous zone; hearing her admission had definitely fanned my flames, and I found myself once again at the brink. It didn’t help, of course, that the entire time we talked she had been moving on me, flexing her hips to move my penis inside of her, or riding me, sliding up and down on me where our slippery flesh was joined.

“You were aroused while you were posing? Right there, at the mall?” As soon as said that I realized how dumb it sounded.

She laughed. “Yes Davey, I was horny at the mall. You’re so weird.” She paused for a moment. Paused speaking that is; her body continued to move, to respond, to squeeze my phallus as she drove it in and out of her tight heat. “You were the ultimate beneficiary of my horniness though. I didn’t just go jump some random man at Radio Shack or something…although, God knows, I was ready to.”

I didn’t know what she meant, so I said “I don’t know what you mean.”

She leaned forward again, her chin on my shoulder, her lips touching my ear. “Think back to that evening, about three weeks…” she paused “no, twenty-three days ago. Exactly twenty-three days ago. When I met you at the door…”

I remembered. Boy howdy, did I remember! Like she said, she’d met me at the door. That was unusual enough, because unless I am meeting with a client, or meeting my partners or crew for drinks, I am home before her most days. She generally stays to help with the evening feeding of the shelter animals, and to be sure that each gets some time in the yard, so even with some delays I usually get home first. That day, though, she was there when I got home – unusual, as I said – but what took it past unusual and straight to memorable was that when she’d pulled the door open, as I was trying to get my key in the lock, she’d been standing there totally, utterly, stark naked. And visibly aroused.

I’m sure my jaw dropped, and I’d barely had time to notice her rigid nipples, her dilated pupils, or the pink flush of arousal on her neck and chest before she’d grabbed my tie and pulled me in the door, pushing it so hard that it slammed shut behind me. She had then plastered herself to my body, molding herself to me so snugly that it felt like I was wearing her. Then… hell, even now I get aroused remembering, but then she’d pressed the fingers of her right hand against my lips. I had breathed in the sweet, distinctive scent of her arousal, that slightly musky, wholly female scent of her aroused sex, and she had pushed her wet, slick fingers into my mouth, where I sucked and licked eagerly at the viscous evidence of her arousal as she’d spoken into my ear, her voice low and husky, sensual. “I hope you don’t mind, but I started without you…”

That did it, we had lift-off! Just the memory of that night, of her “starting without me” destroyed the last of my will, and my pending orgasm crashed together in one huge spasm as the first explosive spurt of semen left me and flooded into her! I came so hard it almost hurt…almost. Instead, it was painfully pleasurable, the pulsing, gushing release, so intense that my entire being was focused, for those several endless seconds, on my throbbing, spasming sex, trapped deep within her tight heat as I came.

I was as deeply inside of her as I could get, the tight muscles of her portal locked around the very base of my cock, but I think I was trying to get deeper still, jamming into her as my hands on her hips held her tightly against me. It was mindless, primal, utterly atavistic, my mind not controlling anything else that I was doing, so focused was it on each pulse, each spurt of semen leaving me and entering her.

Maybe part of it was discovering only now that her intense arousal of that past night was due to her near-naked photo session, realizing that perhaps she had a touch of exhibitionism that had been stoked by displaying her body to the photographer and his assistant. Probably not though, because that’s a complex thought, something I simply was not capable of at that moment. Honestly, I didn’t think of that until later.

What I was capable of was noticing, as my orgasm eventually (and tragically!) began to run its course and my spurts and spasms tapered off to the last few tiny dribbles, was that she was coming too! Right there in our kitchen, with her straddling me on my chair and my entire reserve of cum deep inside of her, she came only seconds behind me, hard and sudden, triggered, I think, by my deep thrusts into her and the sensations of my hard cock pulsing and exploding inside of her.

Alli isn’t a talker or a screamer in the throes of orgasm. More typically it is the acceleration of her breathing and the greater intensity of her moans of pleasure, in addition to the rigid tension of every muscle in her body, that announces her peak; occasionally, in the grasp of a particularly intense orgasm – what she calls “a really, really good one” – she will utter a low “Oh God!”, or perhaps a subtle variation such as “Oh my God!” between clenched teeth as she comes. This was one of those “Oh my God!” orgasms, and she uttered the words as her back arched and she jammed herself down on me, her hips thrusting as she ground her sensitive clit against my pubic bone. It was thrilling to me that she was enjoying an orgasm that was possibly as intense as the one I had just experienced…if not more so!

I was still rock hard, immediately post-ejaculation, but I was also in the period where every sensation is magnified, when my penis is almost too sensitive to touch. Her grinding on me, in addition to the rhythmic pulses I could feel as her orgasm caused her pussy contract on me, were almost an exquisite form of torture as a result, but I was not about to interrupt! Far be it from me to do anything to spoil things when my beautiful wife is enjoying that kind of pleasure!

When the wave crested and broke, when she was finally on the backside of her climax and sliding down, she collapsed on my chest, her breasts crushed against me. Both of us remained silent, enjoying the slowly receding sensations as we tried to catch our breath, my cock still lodged in her tight grip. She was the first to break the silence, her lips near my ear as she mumbled “Mmmm, I think maybe I enjoyed your birthday present even more than you did.”

I kissed her hair, and then her cheek before she turned her head and our lips met. After a nice, long, tender kiss, I smiled. “Seems unlikely, ‘cause I enjoyed it a lot! Not sure how you could possibly have enjoyed it more.”

“Well, mine was one of those really, really good ones.”

See what I mean? I nodded. “Yeah, I could tell. I enjoyed that part too. It was sort of like a two-part gift, first I got my rocks off in a huge way, and then I got to enjoy you doing the same.”

“Technically speaking, I don’t have any rocks to get off. That’s strictly a guy thing…but yes, I got mine off huge too. I need a nap.”

I nodded. “Me too, but unfortunately I have to get to work.” I could feel myself beginning to soften and shrink inside of her.

“I thought you were the boss.”

“I am. I guess I’m just too conscientious for my own damn good.” I shrugged. “Besides, I’m no use to you here at this point; I’ll need a little down time. Might as well be at work, right?”

“I suppose.” She pretended to pout as she swung her leg up and over, dismounting me as my now-limp and shriveled dick slithered from her grip. She looked at it and giggled. “Gosh, I think I killed it! Where’s that fine, upstanding little guy that I was kissing just a few minutes ago?”

“Gone – but he promised to come back later, if you ask real nice – and if you stop calling him little.”

She giggled again. “Oh yeah! I meant to say that tall, powerful looking hunk. Well, how about I get this tired little guy cleaned up so that you can go to work?” She dropped to her knees between my legs again, and took my wet, slippery, worn out penis in her hand.

“There’s that word ‘little’ again…”

She laughed. “Well, you gotta admit, he’s not at his big, hard, impressive best. You’re supposed to be little when it’s like this, right?”

I realize that I’m one of those that grows rather than shows. “I suppose, but still...” Then I stopped talking as she took me into her mouth, giving first my cock and then my balls a thorough tongue bath. It was wonderful, soothing and delicious-feeling, but also very loving, very giving, especially as I knew that she understood that there was no chance that she’d get me up for a repeat performance. She gently, carefully licked and lapped away all traces of our lovemaking, her juices and mine. Maybe the best birthday present yet, because I knew she loved me and we were both enjoying all of this together.

When finished she kissed me, the musky scent and taste of our lovemaking on her lips and in her mouth, and then grabbed a clean, soft towel out of the drawer and gently dried me, after which I stood and pulled my pants up. I was now fully dressed, while she still wore only her short robe, open wide, her belt dangling. She looked down toward my crotch. “You’re not going to change pants? You still have a wet spot.”

I looked; she was right, although it was fading as it dried. “It won’t show once it dries, and it will dry while I’m on my way to work. No big deal.” It was only a relatively small dot anyway.

She shook her head. “You’re going to wear pants with a cum stain on them all day?”

“It’s not a stain if it doesn’t show, and it won’t.”

“But you’ll know it’s there.”

I shrugged. “But if it doesn’t show, I don’t care.”

She shook her head. “You’re weird…in so many ways!” I laughed as she stepped back from me. “Well, you have a good day lover boy – and happy birthday, again. I’m going to go hop in the shower, because somebody shot about a gallon of cum in me and now it’s all running down my legs.”

I groaned. She was intentionally teasing me, tempting me; she knows how much I love playing with her sex when it’s like this, post-coital, wet and leaking semen, all slippery and sensitive and wonderful. Often I can bring her to a series of additional soft, gentle, relaxing orgasms (what she calls her ‘aftershocks’) at this stage. Her words sent an electric tingle to my groin; maybe I could go in to work just a little later… “You know, maybe it’s not real important for me to be there this morning after all.”

She laughed. “Never mind! You just go. I have things I need to do today, and I won’t be able to if you leave me too worn out to walk.”

“Hmmph. Killjoy!” I grabbed my briefcase and the beautiful picture she’d given me and pulled my keys from my pocket.

She had started to turn away, but when I picked up the picture she stopped and turned back to me. “What are you doing with that?”

“Your picture? I’m taking it to work, to put on my desk.”

“Oh Davey, do you think that’s appropriate?”

I looked at it, and then at her. “Sure, why not?”

“Well, it’s kind of revealing; I didn’t think anybody but you would ever see it.”

“It’s got one of those little stands built into the frame. I figure it’s meant for a desk, right? Besides, it will be facing toward me; nobody but Marci – or maybe Louis or Charlie – ever comes around my desk to that side, and they all know how beautiful you are already.” Marci is my administrative assistant – what we used to call a secretary, and an excellent one at that - and Louis and Charlie, as I think I’ve mentioned, are my two partners. Allison had been to my office many times, and we had all socialized together often; they all knew my wife fairly well, and had seen her in evening wear, and even in her bikini at a pool party we’d had at Charlie’s house the previous summer. I didn’t feel like the picture would be breaking any new ground.

“Still, I’m not sure that I’m comfortable with them seeing me like that - especially Charlie!”

I laughed. “Yeah, Charlie can be a little crude at times, but he’s harmless – and anyway, he’s already got the hots for you, so this won’t change anything. Besides, it’s not that revealing. I mean, nothing shows that wouldn’t show in a low-cut top anyway, right? It’s just sort of…I don’t know, seductive, I guess. That’s why I want it there, so I can look at it anytime and remind myself what a lucky guy I am.”

“Well, when you put it like that how can I object? I just hope you don’t live to regret it.”

“It’ll be fine, trust me.” Despite my words, she had managed to plant a small seed of doubt in my mind. I headed to the garage and my car, pushing that small, nagging tickle of doubt to the very back recesses of my mind.
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