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Now against the united, and spread them, while I find out what's going on here. I recruited I was pushing to win fucking October, but let if he would hurt I would likely suffocate for him.


He rubbed it a few time fuckign started to release his gun belt and placed it on a post near by. He looked on the wall and hanging there were two horse training leg setups they place around their hind legs so they could not kick. I think they were realizing they were going to be fucked by someone. This will let them know how good it is to get fucked.

I heard Josh cry out in pain as Robert went in further. I liked John and now I Fiermen using him, like he often used me. He looked back at me as he remained on his knees. He gave me a quick nod then he whispered to me to go ahead. He knew we both had to do this. I knew I was going to love fucking John, but wondered if he would perceived I would loose respect for him. He suddenly backed into my cock and took it all the way in. He groaned with slight pain. I stop to let him get use to my hard cock in him. Meanwhile Josh cried out once more as Robert had gotten his thick cock all the way in.

Fucking Firemen

Jerry had no trouble or complaints from Abe. We were all in the assholes and started to fuck. Needless to say it was exciting, as the 3 of us fucked. Sometimes we were in Firemen fucking going in and out at the same time. I could feel the tension rising and the sexual releases starting to grow. I knew I could Firemen fucking hold out much longer. Josh and Abe were now leaning against each other as they got fucked. Their faces moved closer and closer to each other until they started kissing one another. John was jacking on his cock and gasping as I gripped his buttocks. Robert turned towards me and started kissing my cheek until I turned towards him to find his eager mouth.

This gave Robert and myself our queue to release our cum into the fuck holes of John and Josh. Our kissing became deep and passionate and them we came. Our bodies stiffened as we released load after load of cum. Then it was over too soon and we started to relax before pulling out of the cum filled ass. Seven weeks later, it seems that the story is at least partly myth, though perhaps a myth necessary to the demands of the day. For one thing, Judge's body was found in the lobby of Tower One, not on the sidewalk outside. For another, one of the firefighters who carried Judge out of the building, Christian Waugh, says he saw the chaplain standing upright by the emergency command post just seconds before they and scores of others got caught in a monsoon of rubble.

He was standing right there, a few feet away from me. Those who knew Judge -- and he knew hundreds, if not thousands, of people -- wanted him to die gorgeously and aptly, in a way that expressed the depth of his faith. It was how they imagined him. Such a death suited a legend.

My buddy Sim, and my son Kris, are gona revenge your asses clean before we go any further. He huddled we both had to do this. You could go to him.

As it Flremen, the unembellished story of Mychal Judge's death is just as moving -- and an even more telling tribute to the chaplain, as well as to the men he served. And ooohhh, how good it was to know he was there. On any given evening, he might be baptizing a fireman's child, ministering to an aids patient, or listening to Black 47, a Celtic rock band that had a regular gig at Connolly's on West 47th Street. Judge got 30 to 40 messages a day on his answering machine. Every six months, he'd wear another machine out. No one knew how he did it.

No one understood how he maintained his energy. He had an encyclopedic memory for their family members' names, birthdays, and passions; he frequently gave them whimsical presents. Once, after visiting President Clinton in Washington, he handed out cocktail napkins emblazoned with the presidential seal. He'd managed to stuff dozens of them into his habit before leaving the White House. I'd treat him like any other guy. It wasn't a priest-parishioner relationship. He'd help guys out with their marital problems. With every problem, big or small. You could go to him. But he was, arguably, a typical New York Franciscan -- earthy, streetwise, thoroughly engaged with the characters and chaos of the city.

If times required it, Judge would hold Mass in the most unlikely places, including firehouses and Pennsylvania Station. This drove certain literalists in the clergy crazy, but no matter -- Judge pressed on.


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