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Service With A Smile
by Realoldbill (no address provided)

***

A story about rape and the consequences of that 
action. (MMF, nc, rp, v, sn)

***

The two women were dusty and sweating when they came 
into my office and sighed with pleasure as they felt 
the air conditioning ruffle their clinging shirts. 
While the younger one went to the water fountain and 
showed me most of her ass as she bent over to drink, 
the older one came to the counter, exhaled loudly, 
wiped the sweat from her face on her forearm, smiled 
wanly and said, "We ran out of gas, couple of miles 
back."

"Hot out there, ain't it?" I said admiring the way her 
clinging shirt displayed her big boobs with their hard 
tits.

She nodded and the younger one came and stood beside 
her. Damn but she was a pretty thing, a freckle-faced 
redhead and probably sixteen or so with a nice pair of 
mams and long, long legs. It was right obvious they 
were mother and daughter since the woman was a looker 
too, just bigger all over, a bleached blonde and maybe 
a 35 or 36 if I'm any judge of jugs, and I am. We 
don't get many splittails as pretty as this pair our 
here in the sticks, and I did not mean to waste the 
opportunity I heard knocking. My big cock took control 
of the thinking efforts.

"So," said the older female, looking a bit fretful 
"can you take me down to the car with some gas?" She 
held out her credit card.

"Spoze," I said and licked my lips, thinking of all 
the ways I could use a brace of beauties. I laid her 
card down by the register. Now and then, I had held 
one woman at the station, usually one that owed me, 
and rented her ass to my friends and neighbors, but I 
had never had two at once. "Petey," I yelled.

He stuck his head in the service bay door, wiping his 
hands on some waste and blinking, ogling the females, 
looking them up and down, the horny bastard. They were 
both wearing tiny shorts, the mother's denim and the 
girl's white, fancy t-shirts and running shoes, the 
stupid bitches. Dressed that way, they was asking for 
it.

"Take this here lady down to get her car. Get a gas 
can."

He nodded and smiled.

"You go on with him," I said. "The girl can stay here 
and enjoy the cool air."

The mother cocked an eyebrow at me, glanced at her 
pretty daughter and followed Petey out to the tow 
truck. Her ass moved beautifully, fluid drive in her 
hips, a rolling motion that was nothing but an 
invitation. I imagined her on top, reverse cowgirl.

"Want a Coke?" I asked the girl as she looked at some 
of my calendar pinups, a dozen or so nudes, Hustler 
and Penthouse mostly.

"Left my purse in the car," she said.

"S'all right, on me," I told her, flicking the switch 
under the counter and hearing a bottle rattle down the 
chute.

She smiled, said thanks and fetched the drink and 
parked her rounded butt on my old plastic chair. I 
went to my CD radio and flipped on the mike. "This 
here's Jason," I said, "spread the word, good buddies. 
We got us a forty-two-ten down at the station, a 
double, from now till dark. Come ready for action." 

I put down the mike and looked at the girl. I hadn't 
had one as young as she was for a coon's age. "How old 
are you, darlin'?" I asked her as the bell rang and 
somebody pulled up to the self-service side. We don't 
do much gas business except on weekends, and I make 
most of my money peddling moonshine and tax-free 
cigarettes.

"Fifteen," she said with a cute smile. "Why?" She held 
the Coke bottle between her high, round boobs, 
enjoying the cold feel I suppose and stretching her 
shirt nicely.

"You still cherry?" I asked her, hoping she was going 
to say yes since I hadn't busted a virgin for I 
couldn't-remember-how-long. Probably since that 
Johnson girl back a couple of years. But shit, she was 
only twelve, and I had to stick a road flare in her to 
get her open.

The fair-skinned girl blinked her hazel eyes at me and 
said, "Sir?" nice and polite. I do like the polite 
ones; them uppity females, they get my goat.

"A hymen, sweetie, a maidenhead; you still a virgin?"

"Geeze," she said, pulling her knees together, "you 
sure are noisy."

I grabbed her by the ponytail and yanked her to her 
feet. She yelped, dropped the half-full Coke and 
squealed as I pushed her belly down on the counter and 
stripped off her shorts and tiny underpants. I ignored 
her kicking feet, stuck my greasy middle finger in 
her, wiggled it around some and slapped her bare butt. 
"You sure'nuf is, sweetheart," I said. "And I'll get a 
hundred for that cherry at least. You wait and see. 
You ever taken it up the ass?"

She struggled and begged me to let her go, but I had a 
foot of height and probably a 150 pounds on her so she 
weren't going no place 'till I gave her leave.

"Come on, girl," I said, shaking her some and slipping 
my hand up under her shirt to squeeze her young 
breast, "I need to know. Don't want'a do no false 
advertising. I suppose you have sucked cocks."

She shook her head. "No, no," she sobbed, and I could 
tell she was scared and crying and probably telling 
the truth. About then Petey pulled up in the truck, 
his usual four-wheel slide. He jogged into the office, 
saw me yanking the little redhead around, her bare ass 
hanging out. I had fingered her ass hole by then and 
after hearing her yell, decided that was unspoilt as 
well, badly in need of corn-holing.

"Kin I have her first?" he asked eagerly. "Huh, can I? 
Please."

"Hell no," I said, turning her around and grabbing her 
by the tit. "Not 'less you got a hundred bucks on you, 
and if you do, it's my money."

He made a face, and then together we walked the girl 
out the lift, ignored her pleas and tied her wrists to 
the roller and adjusted it some so that she had to 
stay on her toes. I left her shirt and shoes on her 
and then stepped back to admire my work. Damn, but she 
did look good with her long legs and her tiny bush and 
rounded butt, her pretty little boobs lifted high by 
having to stretch up her arms like that. 

I eased the lift down a mite cause she was going to be 
there a while, and we still had her mother to take 
care of. I had a hard-on already as I tied a gag on 
her so I wouldn't have to listen to her whine and beg. 
Tears was running down her face and dripping off her 
chin.

About then, the mother came into the office and said, 
"Where's Jeannie?"

"Right out here," I said, holding open the door. The 
woman stepped down and then saw her girl, hanging from 
her wrists, naked from her middle on down to her 
kicking ankles, her pretty face turned toward us with 
a greasy rag in her mouth, her eyes just as wide as 
she could get them.

"Ain't that pretty?" I asked, taking her purse and 
tossing it in a corner. She turned on me, squawked 
something and I hit her in the belly, a good stiff 
right that folded her up, and then slapped her face 
back and forth a few times. I got her arm bent up 
behind her and walked her past her weeping child to 
the other side of the lift while she was still gasping 
for breath and spitting blood. Then Petey and me, we 
tied her wrists to the ramp roller just like the kid's 
was, and I pulled off her shorts and underpants. She 
had a well-trimmed bush and a terrific ass, big and 
round. 

I looked at her and then sliced open her t-shirt with 
my box cutter, right down the middle between her big 
boobs. She was wearing a white bra, so I chopped that 
open too, cut the straps, yanked it off, checked the 
label and saw it was a 39D, and threw it in the trash 
barrel, proud to be right again. She had a fine rack 
with real dark nipples, a lot more than a mouthful, 
like they say. I admired the way the cut-open shirt 
dangled so I left it.

"Can I, please, boss?" asked Petey. "Just once." He 
was unbuttoning his britches.

"OK," I said, wanting to keep the help happy, "But 
don't hurt her none."

Petey had a long, thin cock and by the time I got back 
to the office, he was ramming that thing into the 
girl's mother like an air compressor was up his ass. 
He was actually getting her feet off the floor, and 
she was screeching to beat the band. I propped open 
the door so I could watch although I had seen Petey in 
action before and knew he was going to come twice 
before he quit, and I also knew he'd go after the 
little redhead given half a chance. 

He had her mother's legs just flapping loosely as he 
enjoyed the big woman. He was grunting like a pig and 
rutting like a dog, taking her from the back, and she 
was gasping and crying, "No! No, no, please no!" just 
as loud as she could.

"Don't tear her jugs off!" I yelled at him, and he 
just grinned at me as he twisted the woman's grease-
stained breasts. She put her head back and cried out 
for mercy. He cackled and humped harder, bending his 
back, up on his toes.

Then the usual white lightening customers started 
arriving one by one and pickup by pickup. Within an 
hour I had gotten a hundred and fifty for the girl's 
untouched pussy and another hundred for her unused 
asshole while her mother handled the short-term trade. 
Damn if it wasn't that preacher from up in the hills 
that corn-holed the little redhead, and the truck 
driver who delivers the gas paid me $150 to bust her 
cherry after he pulled in his tanker and saw what was 
going down. Then, after that was taken care of, it was 
in either hole and for either of them fifty bucks cash 
and fifty-five on the credit card. I wrote "service" 
on the bills and smiled when I did it. Got right noisy 
out there.

Out in the garage I had taken off the girl's gag to 
help her breathe, and we were getting a real chorus of 
groans and shrieks as some of my buddies and good 
customers enjoyed themselves rather vigorously. I must 
admit I do have some rough friends and customers. When 
there were breaks in the traffic, I hosed them down, 
sticking the nozzle in their holes and washing them 
out some. They didn't even seem to appreciate that. 
Damn woman had a ripe vocabulary but the girl just 
begged and such.

The Johnson boys arrived after the first hour or so 
and asked if they could double-team the girl. "Sure," 
I said, "long as you both got fifty bucks." I let the 
lift down a foot to make it easier and then Petey and 
me and the girl's mother watched as those two big 
roughnecks got that little redhead turned sideways 
between them and went to town. When one was pressing 
in, the other was sliding out, the one behind her was 
pawing her boobs and the one in front had a'hold of 
her buttocks. 

After they both came, by damn if they didn't switch 
sides and jolt her for another ten minutes or so, 
really getting their money's worth, keeping her feet 
right up off the floor. You'd a'thought they was 
killing her, the way she howled and writhed. It was 
their little sister I had busted open a while back. 
She's married and got two a'her own now, so I hear, 
probably one a'them's mine cause I used her for a 
week.

The sheriff came in about five that afternoon, and I 
wasn't a bit surprised to see him. By then the females 
were a lot quieter, resigned I guess since they 
couldn't do nothing about what was going on. They both 
had a lot of goo sliding down the inside of their 
bruised thighs and dripping off their feet. Most of 
the men only took five minutes or so to get their 
rocks off so they were nearly always getting a fresh 
cock to take care of. 

The apron was packed with cars and four or five guys 
were waiting their turns and sucking on 7-Ups and 
moonshine at a buck a can and watching the show as two 
men raped two fine looking women side by side to the 
blaring music that Petey loved, that damn rock and 
roll shit. I had been keeping a rough count and after 
three busy hours the woman had taken on about thirty 
men and the girl almost two dozen, including that pair 
that had her at the same time.

Buck looked around. "Land office," he said as I handed 
him the usual envelope. Nobody in this county does 
moonshine unless the sheriff gets his cut. He looked 
out in the work area, sniffed and said, "Why don' you 
crank 'em down so's we can use their mouths iff'n we 
wants to?"

I made a face at him. "That what you want?"

He nodded. "Don' want to stick my pecker where all 
your rough trade's been, 'sides you can get two goin' 
at once and shorten up your line."

"How much for oral?" asked one of the men who was 
waiting to fuck the mother.

"Twenty-five," I said, my usual fee for blowjobs when 
one of those trailer trash girls came and worked for a 
day behind the counter.

"OK," he said, "I'm going to get both mouths so you 
kin keep the fifty." He was a good-sized bricklayer 
with the hardest hands I ever shook.

I went out and let down the lift so the women were on 
their knees at the end of the ramps, kneeling in the 
oil, cum and waste water on the cement floor, their 
wrists tied down before them and their mouths easily 
available as well as their backsides. The sheriff put 
down a clean rag from my stack, knelt on the metal 
ramp, flipped out his enormous cock, held the 
redhead's pug nose until she gasped and then fucked 
her face for a good fifteen minutes, one hand tangled 
in her curly hair and the other abusing her young 
tits.

When he was done, the boy who had gotten a blowjob 
from the mother came right on and made the kid suck 
his big, limp cock until it was hard again and then I 
thought he was never going to finish. I swear three 
men fucked the youngster before he was done in her 
throat, one of them using the grease gun I left there 
to make the job easier. You'd a'thought it was 
charged, the way she jumped when he poked that thing 
into her.

Later on, I put mats down for the men to kneel on. 
Some of the boys got to flipping them females over and 
humping them from on top, generally standing hunched 
over some. It was kind of messy, but it sure didn't 
matter to me. I hosed 'em down once while they was 
a'lying on their backs and, boy, didn't the water 
splash up when the next fuckers got to work with the 
female's legs up on their shoulders, seeing who could 
come the quickest or last the longest I guess. I 
watched one a'them damn wetbacks fuck the little 
redhead that way on his kneepads with only the top of 
her head down on the floor. He did have a good old 
time, and she did screech like a banshee as he rotated 
her left and right on his thick pike and counted his 
strokes in Spanish- un, dos, tres, un, dos, tres, over 
and over.

It was Petey's idea to get out the creepers. "Pussy on 
wheels" he called it and got a good laugh. One of 
mine's padded and I put the kid on that one and tied 
her down and then I laid the mother on the old wooden 
one with the little headrest and she spat at me when I 
wrapped a bungee cord around her middle. I damn near 
twisted off a big nipples in reply. I guess they did 
good business like that for a spell, legs bent and 
knees spread. By them they was getting' kind'a loose, 
y'know.

I had to open the doors now and then to air out the 
place. Shoot, it was still about ninety outside and my 
a/c only does the office, but the fans helped some out 
in the service area. Still, it was hot work and them 
females was sweating like horses. About sundown, I 
hoisted them back up so's Petey could squeegee off the 
floor.

As it got to be supper time, the business slowed to a 
trickle so I let Petey fuck the redhead he'd been 
pestering me about all day, and I started my usual 
bookkeeping while the humping and howling continued 
over in the service bay. I was amazed them girls could 
carry on for as long as they did, screeching almost 
every time some good old boy plugged 'em hard and 
fast. Around nine o'clock I turned off the pumps and 
the front lights and when the man using the girl's 
mother was done with her, and dropped her feet back in 
the filth and zipped his fly, I shut down the sign. I 
was closed. Come hell or high water, I closed at nine 
on the dot. I man's got to have some principles.

I had taken in $4,550 in cash and had charges totaling 
another $1,100, and, of course, Petey and the sheriff 
had gotten theirs for free. So between them, in a 
little more than seven hours, the visiting women had 
serviced 116 men and boys, including me, and I guessed 
that maybe the mother had done two-thirds of them and 
the girl the others and, as I recalled, a few of my 
buddies had come back for seconds so it really wasn't 
that many different guys. One of the best days I ever 
had, all of it profit, every damn cent, hard earned 
too and nothing for the IRS. I used the mother's 
credit card and charged her twenty bucks for road 
service and put the receipt on the counter.

Then I went out and untied her, handed over her 
pocketbook, shorts and underpants and walked her, 
rather rubber legged, to the office and told her to 
sign. I tried not to look at the stuff coursing down 
the inside of her thighs or the bruises and bite marks 
on her big breasts. She cursed me something awful, 
vile language no lady should use, and I forced her 
down on her knees, bent her over my swivel chair and 
drove my rigid cock into her soggy pussy. I had 
already fucked her that day when business was slack, 
but this time a really tried to hurt her, and she 
screamed and begged as I reamed her out and filled up 
her bruised cunt with my spew, pulling out bunches of 
pussy hair just to be mean and thumbing her asshole 
too. 

She signed the charge although her hand trembled some, 
and I handed her my stapler and said, "Fix your 
shirt." Then I went out and fetched her kid, who was 
slumped with her forehead down on the ramp and her 
rounded ass in the air, a temptation that I resisted 
since my cock was kind of sore. I had fucked her 
twice, once in each hole after using the gun I had set 
on the ramp by her head so men could grease her up 
more easily. When I did her, she was really tight 
despite all the action she had been through. Her ass 
looked a lot looser now and she seemed to be bleeding 
some from her cunt. Her thighs were black and blue and 
her face was a mess.

I brought her to the office, handed her one of the 
leftover 7Ups and by damn if she didn't throw it in my 
face. I pushed her right up against the plate glass 
window, beat her ass until my hand hurt and then 
rammed a Coke bottle into her pussy. She sounded like 
the volunteers' fire siren going off, and her mother 
pulled on my shoulders and begged me to stop. 

After a while, when my anger cooled, I did, 
remembering that one time when I did that the bitch 
ended up in the hospital but that was because the 
bottle still had its cap on. The girl fell to the 
floor and curled up into a ball, with the back end of 
the Coke bottle still sticking out of her. Her mother 
pulled it out and put it in the rack, sniffing and 
avoiding my eyes.

I handed the woman her car keys and the girl her 
shorts. I kept her underpants. I've got a couple of 
rows of them in the back room, souvenirs. 

They left, hugging each other as they walked to their 
car. I wondered how far they would get with only a 
gallon of gas in their tank. There wasn't an open 
station for about a hundred miles the way they were 
heading.

**

About six weeks later - Jason and his grease monkey 
were on their way back to the station after the 
service at the funeral home for the sheriff and his 
son. There hadn't been any bodies or caskets since 
very little of either man had been found after the 
fire, just some crusty black stumps that might have 
been leg bones and a couple of grinning skulls. 

"Lookey there," Petey said, pointing at the roadside. 
"A damsel in dee-stress by damn."

Jason pulled his five-month-old Thunderbird in behind 
the car that was well off on the shoulder with its 
hood up, and both men walked up to investigate. 
Jeannie stepped out from under the hood and blinked at 
Petey, forcing herself not to smile. She picked up the 
Glock she had concealed on the air cleaner as her 
mother stepped out of the car with her big Colt in her 
hand.

"Hi, Jason," the smiling woman said. "Remember me?"

He looked at her and shook his head as Petey raised 
his hands and lost control of his bladder.

"Ah well, you're getting old. Lift that deck lid and 
get in there." The woman gestured with the big 
revolver.

"Where, in the trunk?" he asked, still not 
understanding.

The woman fired a .44 caliber round right between his 
feet, not more than an inch or so from his left foot. 
"Be quick," she said flatly as the sound echoed in the 
hills. By then Jeannie had Petey's hands cuffed behind 
him and was holding him at gunpoint by the back 
fender. As soon as Jason climbed into the trunk of the 
big Dodge, she nudged Petey to follow. Then her mother 
slammed down the lid.

"You drive the T-bird," she said to her daughter.

Ten minutes later the two cars pulled into the gas 
station that lay well out on the state road. They 
eased past the closed sign on the driveway and parked 
behind the garage. Jeannie got Petey out and then 
closed the trunk lid again. Once she had the young 
mechanic securely roped to a chair in the work area, 
his hands still chained behind him, she came back and 
helped her mother get a set of handcuffs on Jason and 
then pull him out of the car trunk.

"I been thinking," Jason said as they hustled him back 
into his station. "You're the two bitches we had here 
on the racks, ain'cha?"

"Yep," said Jeannie. "And you thought he was just 
dumb," she said to her mother.

The woman laughed and then forced Jason to his knees 
and then to his back under the lift with his service 
truck on it. He lay crosswise, his head under one ramp 
and his feet and ankles under the other. "Get us a 
Coke, Honey," the woman said to her daughter. "His 
changemaker's probably in his desk drawer."

Jeannie returned with two bottles and the women sat on 
folding metal chairs, crossed their legs and drank.

"What'chu planning on doin?" Petey asked.

Jeannie smiled at him and shot him in the right leg. 
Just below the knee. The bullet broke both bones.

Petey screamed and jumped, turning over the chair he 
was tied to. The Glock 29 was a 10 mm weapon that hit 
very hard.

The older woman set down her drink and her gun, walked 
over to Jason, unzipped his britches, pulled them down 
to his knees along with his Jockey shorts and flopped 
out his cock. Then she tied his ankles to the lift 
ramp about a yard apart, and took another length of 
thin nylon line from her pocket and tied a couple of 
loops of cord around the man's penis and scrotum, 
pulling it tight. She stepped back and her daughter 
let the lift come down until it and truck were just 
three feet off the floor. Crouching, the woman tied 
the white cord to the tow truck's drive shaft and 
nodded to her girl. Up went the lift until the thin 
rope was taut. Jason screamed as his genitals were 
stretched upward.

Jeannie and her mother resumed their chairs and drank 
their Cokes. Petey was whimpering behind them and 
Jason was begging them to let him go, his balls and 
penis stretched out much farther than he ever thought 
they could be.

"How much did you make that day we were tied up out 
here?" the woman asked.

"I dunno, five thousand, something like that," Jason 
said. He was trying not to cry but his voice broke.

"How much money do you have in the bank?" she asked.

"I'm gonna bleed to death!" Petey groaned.

Jeannie picked up her gun and fired a shot into his 
buttocks. The bullet went all the way through and 
clipped some cinderblock behind the bleeding man.

"Let's go up a few inches more," the woman said and 
Jeannie smiled and nudged the lever a couple of times. 
The lift staggered up three inches or so and stopped 
with a quiver. Jason arched and screamed until his 
throat was raw and he ran out of air.

Jason's penis was now turning purple and was stretched 
out so that his whole groin was being lifted up by the 
rope. His testicles seemed ready to explode.

"What do you have in the bank?" asked the woman after 
she finished her Coke and handed her daughter the 
bottle.

"Please, please," Jason cried as tears ran down his 
face.

Jeannie smiled and licked her lips.

"Go on," said her mother. "It's as good a time as 
any."

Jeannie pulled down one of the grease guns and walked 
over to Jason with the empty Coke bottle in her other 
hand. She stuck the business end of the grease gun in 
Jason's anus and gave him a couple of shots of 
lubricant. Then she let the gun retract and shoved the 
Coke bottle into him, twisting and pushing until it 
was almost out of sight. She stood back, smiled and 
kicked the end of the bottle three times, hard.

Jason blubbered and writhed, his whole body jerking.

Petey started crying. "Please, please, help me! I'm 
bleeding."

Jeanie took careful aim and shot him in the left 
shoulder so that he and the chair he was on was spun 
around and the man faced the wall.

"Let's go up and down a few times," said the woman.

Jeannie ran the lift up and down so that the ramps 
actually touched Jason's forehead and toes and then 
stretched his penis out fully again and again. The 
upper half of his member was now almost black and his 
balls were turning purple.

"What do you have in the bank?" the woman asked.

"I dunno," Jason sobbed. "Maybe twenty thousand."

"Where's your checkbook?"

"Top drawer on the right," he said finding the pain in 
his cock and balls unbelievable. He was sure he was 
going to die.

Jeannie brought the checkbook and a ballpoint pen and 
dropped them on Jason's belly, wrinkling her nose as 
the sight of his male member being squeezed and 
distended.

"Sign three checks for five thousand each," said the 
woman. "If the banks cashes them, I'll let you go. If 
it won't, I'm going to tear off your prick and feed it 
to you." She smiled "Uncuff him," she said to her 
girl.

Jason rubbed his wrists and signed three checks 
quickly. Jeannie then pulled the Coke bottle out of 
his ass.

"I'm bleedin' t'death," Petey whined.

Jeannie walked over to him and shot him in the right 
knee, shattering the joint. By then there was a 
growing puddle of blood where he lay.

The women did not bother to put the handcuffs back on 
Jason; they just ran the lift upward until his 
buttocks were off the cement and watched him claw at 
the air after fumbling with the knots on his prick. 
Jeanne left with the checks and her mother sat and 
waited, ignoring Petey's pleas and mumbling behind 
her. Jason let his arms drop and moaned, hanging by 
his prick.

By the time the girl returned in half an hour, Petey 
was unconscious. "They wouldn't cash them," she said 
shaking her head.

The woman sucked her teeth. "Oh well, his car's worth 
at least twenty. It will have to do. We'll deposit 
them in town."

She stood and aimed her big revolver at the belly of 
man lying under the lift with his genitals nearly torn 
from his groin.

He sobbed and closed his eyes.

"Don't, Ma," the girl said. "Let's just leave."

Together the women went out to the gas pumps, got all 
four hoses down with the nozzles aimed at the garage 
doors and lifted and locked the handles to get them 
pumping. They left quickly.

Five minutes later with the underground tanks nearly 
empty, the air compressor in the back room kicked on 
igniting the gasoline fumes that filled the service 
area which by then had a couple of inches of fuel on 
the floor. The explosion was heard in town some five 
miles away and the fireball lit up the clouds.

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 75