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The White Stud presents

The Transfer Jock (94) -- By Jack Richards

"You really take it up the ass, too?"

 πŸ’¦πŸ’¦πŸ’¦.

Max had a good practice Tuesday afternoon, at least from Jeff’s perspective, definitely better than the morning session, and far better than both Monday practices, his first day after suddenly being thrust into the starting QB role on the defending state championship team - as a sophomore. Max, however, was bummed. He knew he had sucked ass. Even Jeff had barked at him during both Monday practices, telling him stupid shit like, “Stop fucking saying ‘please’ in the goddamned huddle, you’ve got ten seconds to tell those meat•heads what to do. You’re their fucking boss and they expect you to fucking act like it...Confident, decisive and fucking in charge...” He knew that everything Jeff had said was right, but that didn’t make hearing it any easier. Still, overall, Jeff had been encouraging, mostly, and Max had stopped saying ‘please’ in the huddle.
Coach, on the other hand, was very bullish on Max’s progress. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he argued one of his assistants down. “Just look at the trajectory on that kid...put into an impossible situation Monday morning and...” Jeff overheard when he was walking past Coach’s office toward the urinals. He was following William, the all purpose kicker/DB and now suddenly the back•up QB, intent upon watching him piss from an uncomfortably (for William) close distance. Jeff was also thinking about using that QT to quiz the reportedly•straight senior fairly aggressively, when he’d heard Coach shouting, “Are you fucking kidding me...” He stopped dead in his tracks, watching William’s very fine ass recede and then disappear after making a right turn. One thing he had to appreciate about the senior kicker/new no. 2 QB, straight or not, and Jeff strongly suspected not, the dude always paraded around the locker room naked. That was the least of the reasons he thought William was either secretly queer or secretly wanted to be. Jeff sighed, but knew he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to eavesdrop on Coach’s assessment of Max.
After committing Coach’s speech to memory, he hurried after William, hoping he wasn’t too late to get under his skin, and possibly begin flushing him out of his closet. But now that he’d overheard what Coach had to say, he’d need to catch up to Max and bolster his shaky confidence with Coach’s glowing assessment, so he’d have to let the serious quizzing wait for another day. Just before he rounded the corner to the urinals, he whipped off his towel and threw it over his shoulder. If William didn’t have anything to be shy about, Jeff damn sure didn’t. William was standing in front of the third of eight urinals, so Jeff took no. 4. “What’s up, bro?” he asked as he craned his neck and stared down at William’s intriguing fist•sized uncut dick, which was not yet pissing. Jeff figured William had been waiting on him since he’d gone out of his way to walk (naked) from his locker past Jeff’s on his circuitous way to the restroom, definitely the long way around. Jeff had obliged his apparent/possible interest by following him. “Hey, man,” William said as his stream began to flow. He looked pointedly (Jeff thought longingly) at Jeff’s bigger dick.
“Oh, I don’t have to piss,” Jeff explained, “I just came to watch you, plus to tell you what a great ass you’ve got. Exceptional, really, but I’ve always had a thing for hairy•assed blonds.” William burst out laughing, surprised...but pleased by Jeff’s compliments. Despite having been teammates for a few weeks, they were barely more than speaking acquaintances, and William wasn’t even sure if Jeff was really queer. For all he knew, Jeff was just pulling his chain by complimenting his ass and ogling his cock. He’d heard a couple of rumors about the transfer•jock, but they were so over•the•top they were almost certainly false, and he’d heard a few almost as ridiculous rumors about himself. “Thanks, I guess,” William said, biting his tongue not to say more, but he smiled warmly at Jeff and made a point of looking at his dick again. “Can I ask you a question?” Jeff ventured, flopping his watermelonπŸ‰dick a couple of times. “I keep hearing these crazy rumors that you’re straight...are they really true?”
“Would it matter if they weren’t?” cagey William replied, laughing again. He had finished pissing but had made no move to leave. “I’d say that would be cause for celebration for queers like me,” Jeff said. “Um...well, don’t believe everything you hear,” William replied, momentarily flustered by Jeff’s casual admission that he was a queer. “I’ve heard a couple of rumors about you, too...is it true that you butt•fucked a couple of our teammates in the locker room?” Jeff laughed loudly. “More than a couple, dude,” he confirmed, counting to himself, ‘Coach, Landen, Mitchell, Dewey, Finn, Max.’ “Six, counting two guys who fucked me in the showers and I didn’t nail in return...not here anyway. But all six weren’t teammates, just three.” William almost couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you shitting me? You...you really take it up the ass, too?”
“Sure I do,” Jeff admitted breezily. “That’s probably my favorite part of being a fag. Should I believe the other rumor I heard about you...the one that you’ve never touched another dude’s dick?” “Like I said, don’t believe everything you hear,” William replied. “But that you want to?” Jeff added. “That’s a different question,” William acknowledged without elaborating. Jeff’s first thought was that his exchange with William was going much better than he’d thought possible...but then he realized that William hadn’t exactly revealed anything about himself, while Jeff had admitted to being a serial butt•fucker/fuck•ee. He didn’t care about outing himself to William, it had actually felt kind of good to tell the truth about being a homo for a change.
“Mind if I shake you off?” Jeff asked, but that was the wrong question. “Not at all, if that’s what you want to do.” “No, I know that’s what I asked you,” Jeff clarified, “but that wasn’t what I really meant. I was more interested in what YOU wanted.” “You mean do I want you to shake my dick off? Like I said, you can if you want to, but that wasn’t what I was thinking about us doing.” “What were you thinking about us doing? Are you going to tell me?” Jeff persisted. “Possibly,” William said, “probably even, but not now, and not in the locker room.”
“When and where then?” Jeff asked, increasingly frustrated, as William shook off his fat knob of a dick and flushed. “Somewhere a lot more private, maybe tonight?” “Sorry, bro,” Jeff replied, not at all sure he was sorry, “but I’m already booked tonight.” “No problem,” William said. He hurriedly looked over his shoulder, then reached over and palmed Jeff’s fat dick, squeezing it firmly a couple of times. He continued holding his teammate’s cock without squeezing it, almost as if he didn’t want to let it go, and maybe he didn’t. William finally flopped Jeff’s floppy cock a couple of times and released it. “That rumor about me not ever touching another dude’s dick,” he said, smiling, “it’s not true at all. Later, Jeff. Enjoyed the chat.” William turned and walked out of the restroom.
‘What a fucking waste of time,’ Jeff thought as he wrapped his towel back around his waist, and hurried down to the JV section of the locker•room, hoping to catch up with Max before he went to the film room with one of the assistants. He’d kept his eyes on William’s dick for the entire few seconds his own dick had been in William’s hand, and it hadn’t looked to Jeff as if William’s dick had been at all excited that his boss had latched onto another dude’s penis. ‘Hmm, maybe it wasn’t a complete waste of time,’ Jeff thought, ‘maybe William was telling me in his bullshit, noncommittal way that he wanted to fuck me, but just not in the locker room.’ He’d never seen Richard’s dick soft in Landen’s hospital room, and he’d certainly never seen William’s dick hard, but it was easy to imagine that William’s boner might turn out to be a fireplug like Richard’s.
And having that fireplug up his ass, even for as hasty a fuck as that had been, had not sucked at all. Maybe three minutes from that pleasing penetration to Richard’s convulsive ejaculation, Jeff figured, and three hours later he could still feel the happy tingling in his rectum...and the hardness of Richard’s body against his...the gentleness of his intimate touches...that thick dick up his ass. Jeff liked the way Richard had fucked him with authority, taking charge and then hammering the fuck out of his ass with that fireplug. If he didn’t fuck it up, Landen was going to be one happy, mellow dude...he could envision Landen ‘running away’ from home and moving into Richard’s cramped apartment with him so he could have that fireplug up his ass 24/7.

πŸ’¦πŸ’¦πŸ’¦.

“Relax, fellas, I’m just scouting for suckable cock,” Jeff announced when his first•ever visit to the JV wing was met with a flurry of excitement from the younger players. “Now, let’s see what you guys are packing.” “Ignore that pervert,” Max countermanded his instructions. Undaunted, Jeff reached over and yanked Max’s towel off. “See, guys? That’s what I’m talking about,” Jeff said as Max scrambled to retrieve his towel. “Max’s varsity cock is exactly what I had in mind. Eat your Wheaties, fellas, and you could grow a dick just just like Max’s. We should all be so lucky. I’ve made my selection for today, so the rest of you guys scram.” The younger guys had already showered and dressed, so they took off on Jeff’s command, a couple or three of them high•fiving him as they left.
The last kid to slap palms with him said under his breath as he passed by, “Eating my Wheaties for years, stud.” Jeff did a double•take, but the kid was already disappearing around the corner. Which one had it been? Jeff hadn’t been paying close enough attention to those little fuckers. Which precocious juvie had been eating his Wheaties? The auburn•haired kid? Whoever it had been, he liked the fact that some slap•dick ninth•grader had had the balls to basically brag to him about having a varsity cock...and in the presence of Max’s exposed beer•can•cock, no less.
“What are you doing back here, Jeff? Besides embarrassing me and scaring the fuck out of them?” Max asked. He sat down on the bench in front of his locker to secure his towel. “I heard the JV section was pretty secluded, so I came back here to see if you wanted a blow•job,” Jeff said in a tone that let Max know he was joking. Max figured Jeff had something else on his mind, and would tell him when he was ready. “Is there any talent in that group I just scared the fuck out of?” “Yeah, some,” Max replied. “I haven’t seen all of them play, but there’s some speed in the backfield and receiving corps.” “No, dumbass,” Jeff said, laughing, “I meant talent under their jock•straps.”
“Oh...um, well yeah, actually there is. That last kid who high•fived you, Justin, has the second biggest dick in this section, after me, you know. Shit, he’s fucking hung by anybody’s standards. Who knows, maybe he’s got the biggest dick back here when he’s hard.” “That cute little auburn•haired squirt? You’re saying that kid’s cock is almost as big as yours?” Jeff asked about the self•proclaimed Wheaties•eater in disbelief. “He’s not little, not for his age, he’s a ninth•grader. But what I was saying is length•wise, his meaty, flaccid un•ninth•grade dick is in between Landen’s and mine, thick but not...quite as thick as me, fatter than Landen’s.” “I’m fucking showering with JV•Justin tomorrow,” Jeff announced impishly. “Dude, really? Leave the JV alone. What is it, aren’t you getting satisfied at home?” Max asked, laughing.
“Do any of these youngsters suck cock?” Jeff asked, brushing off Max’s sarcastic question. “Not that I know of, but maybe there’ll be a late bloomer or two in the bunch. All I can say for sure is none of them have hit on me.” Getting hit on in the locker room by a queer made Jeff think of William grabbing his dick. Maybe William had just been fucking with him, but Jeff had read him as a suppressed queer, dying to sample what he’d been denying himself for years. If that was true, William had just missed a golden opportunity by being such a diffident ass. Nothing would have come of it, but Jeff probably would’ve at least exchanged blow•jobs with him, just to help ease him into his queer•ness. Then he thought of Finn...William was exactly the kind of challenge that Finn would relish. He’d need to have that ‘more private’ conversation with William, though, and find out what that tease had really been thinking about the two of them doing together - probably nothing of interest, or his dick would’ve shown it - before he’d make that introduction to Finn.
“Speaking of NOT getting satisfied at ‘home,’ as opposed to the Fuck•nest where all my dreams have been coming true, it was so fucking un•satisfyingly weird having to sleep at home alone in my own bed last night,” Jeff said as he sat down next to Max. “Fuck, I missed you last night, Max.” “You were on the phone with me half the fucking night...I should’ve hung up on you hours earlier.” “True,” Jeff conceded, “but that would’ve been devastating to me. Thanks for not crushing me. Plus the phone•sex WAS pretty steamy, the only satisfying thing about being home. I’d almost forgotten how to jack off, so there’s that.” “It was the same for me,” Max commiserated, “missing you and Mitchell last night, but the phone•sex did help.” “Phone•sex with me...or with Mitchell?” Jeff asked.
“Both, but technically I think it’s a violation of our ground•rules for you to even ask that...no comparisons, remember? Hey Jeff, I’ve been thinking and may have two short•term solutions. Tell me what you think about these ideas...I don’t think any of our parents give a rat’s ass whether we spend every night out or not, at least until school starts next week. So after your deal with Coach and Jay tonight - and I’m guessing you’re staying all night and telling your folks you’re at Mitchell’s, right?” “Correct,” Jeff confirmed. “Yeah, and Mitchell and I are going to be at the Fuck•nest tonight, each of us supposedly spending the night with the other. So why don’t the three of us just move back into the Fuck•nest through Saturday night, and keep lying to our parents about where we’re sleeping?”
“Done,” Jeff agreed. “Second solution?” “My parents have literally not come upstairs at night since Fred and George hit puberty. And like I’ve told you, they, and then we, were fucking each other in the ass almost every night. So if you and Mitchell were to spend the night, we could do whatever we wanted without fear of interruption.” “Except for going downstairs to the fridge naked, sporting a hard•on,” Jeff pointed out. “True, Coach’s place, the Fuck•nest, is definitely Plan A.”
While they’d nominally need to clear it with Coach, of course, Jeff knew that wouldn’t be a problem. And Max knew that as well as Jeff did. Max’s relationship with Coach had changed dramatically since Sunday night, beginning with Max boning the fuck out of Coach on the fuck•platform. He guessed it had begun to change even before Max had shoved his rock•hard beer•can•cock up Coach’s ass the first time that night, because Coach had been noticeably more at ease with Max from the moment he and Jay had joined them in the hot tub after dinner. It was as if once Coach had decided that he’d accept one more great ass•fucking from Max after all, before he let go of that shit forever, he was totally relaxed about the whole deal. Of course, it hadn’t worked out quite the way they’d all agreed it would, which was only to have been the three jocks each fucking Coach and Jay one time, with the option for them to then get their rocks off in one of the jocks.
Coach had elected to make his deposit into Max’s sperm bank, and after they had all gone over to Jay’s - because he and Coach wanted to get the champagne Jay had in his fridge - Coach and Max had been inseparable. They had essentially fucked each other all night long, on and off, of course, with some intermittent sleeping, and with Max doing most, but not all, of the topping. Jeff knew that because he, Mitchell and Jay had been right next to them in Jay’s giant extra•king bed, doing the same thing Max and Coach were doing. Jeff and Mitchell had mostly taken turns hammering the fuck out of Jay, who, it turned out, had an insatiable appetite for cock•up•the•ass. Jay had naturally been a gentleman and fucked each of them once, though, nailing Mitchell when they had made Jay the middleman in his first ever sandwich•fuck. One thing he’d learned about Jay, who had the biggest soul of a bottom he’d ever fucked (not counting Landen, who had the bottom•less soul of a bottom), was that when he did top, he could fuck as long as he wanted to and then squirt virtually on request.
“Hey Max, how many times did you and Coach fuck Sunday night? I mean, you know, up until Monday morning and that last most incredible ass•fucking I’ve ever witnessed.” “It wasn’t that big a deal,” Max said, a little embarrassed by Jeff’s praise. “You don’t think so?” Jeff asked, laughing. “You started fucking Coach about the same time I started blowing Jay, and after Jay got off, I fucked him. After I got off, Mitchell fucked him...and you were still fucking Coach after Mitchell blew his load.” “Maybe, but we changed positions a few times,” Max explained. “Dude, just admit you’re a fucking beast...it’s not like you got up to make coffee, walk the dog and take a dump when you were changing positions...you flipped Coach over and went right back to hammering away on him.”
“OK, I AM a fucking beast,” Max said, grinning, “but I don’t know how many times we fucked. A lot. A couple of times we ghost•fucked, you know, without getting off.” Jeff laughed and pulled Max’s head over to him and kissed the top of it. “And you were a fucking beast at practice today, too.” “I was fucking awful again today,” Max countered, immediately losing his grin, “though arguably less awful than yesterday.”
“You really think so?” Jeff asked. “I fucking know so.” “Well then let me tell you what I just overheard Coach saying about you to the assistant coaches while I was loitering outside his door, which is why I really came back here and then ran off all those pre•pubescent twerps...well, to tell you what I heard, make a shower appointment with what’s•his•name, AND to look at your dick, which I miss.” Max parted the towel around his waist and pulled it back. His fat cock and balls were resting on the bench between his legs. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that beautiful sight,” Jeff said. “OK, so what did Coach have to say?” Max asked, covering himself with his towel again, signaling ‘football only.’
“Right, and this is pretty much verbatim. One of the assistants, none of whom know jack•shit about football, must’ve said something critical, but I didn’t catch what it was. Then Coach said,
‘Are you fucking kidding me? Just look at the trajectory on this kid...put into an impossible situation Monday morning without any notice, and, yeah, he sucked, but he fucking worked his ass off and never had to be told anything twice. He fucked up, I chewed his ass, he didn’t repeat the same mistake...ever. Monday p.m., Christ, he was already almost average. This morning, version 3.0, not great, but clearly much better, his fucking arrow’s still going up. This afternoon...the worst criticism you had was that he ‘wasn’t perfect.’ This 10th grader is going to be the best QB in the state before our opening game, and after that game everybody else is going to know it, too...he’s already got all the tools, all he needs are reps. You mark my words, if he stays healthy and gets the right coaching from us little dip•shits and at the next level, he’s gonna be playing on Sundays in a few years.”
Jeff was beaming when he finished repeating what Coach had said. Max was speechless. “Max, I know you still feel lost sometimes, but you just keep doing what you’re doing and everything is suddenly going to click, and soon. I mean, Jesus Fuck, a 73•yard TD run AND a 45•yard TD pass this afternoon? And you call that ‘fucking awful?’ “Jeff...all those busted plays...all due to signal•caller error?” “OK, Eeyore, I give up, you’re right, you suck...BUT I happen to have secured a personal mentor for you, a guy who knows our offense inside and out, and he’s going to be at every practice, right at your elbow. He’s going to bust his fucking balls for YOU. I didn’t discuss this part with him, but my guess is that if you want him to, he’ll probably follow you to the bathroom and wipe your ass for you after you take a shit.”
“What the fuck?...what?...who?” Max asked, confused. “The guy who’s going to be doing everything he can to make sure you excel and keep the starting job for the whole season is the same guy who had that job until Sunday night, and who is now looking forward to being your No. 2,” Jeff reported happily.
“Landen? Why the fuck would he do that?” Max asked incredulously. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Even if he were going to help me some, it would only be the bare minimum that Coach would expect, not enough so that I could replace him. He doesn’t want to sit on the bench anymore than I do.” “I happen to know that you’re 100% wrong about that, bro. The ‘why’ of it, though, is a really long and complicated story. For now, let me just say that I spent hours with Landen today at the hospital, and it was like he was a different fucking guy, like the Landen I first met. Most of that time today was the funnest I’ve ever spent with him, including the times I was fucking him, and also the funniest. The stuff he told me right before I left, though, I have to say was pretty tough to hear. I mean, on top of his emergency, he’s literally been working on giving himself an ulcer, loaded up with stress and anxiety, unrealistic football expectations heaped on him by his father, and he’s taking all kinds of meds, plus other secret shit I can’t even hint at. Trust me, he WANTS you to take his job, and he’s going to help you do it. I think the reason he was so chill with me today is that he’d finally screwed up his courage and told his dad that his dad’s dream wasn’t Landen’s dream, and that was a huge relief to Landen.”
“So what’s that going to cost me?” Max asked warily, assuming he’d be expected to put the wood to Landen at least occasionally. “Nothing,” Jeff replied. “Well, one thing. You don’t have to be his friend or even like him. You don’t have to forgive him, either. But he feels terrible about the way he’s treated you...he was crying while he was talking about that...and he’d like the chance to earn your forgiveness. He’ll ask you at some point, like probably weeks from now, after you’ve had an opportunity to see that he’s really changed.” “And I don’t have to fuck him?” “Fuck no, in fact I’ve lined up somebody else to take care of that. I swear I think it was love at first sight between him and Richard, his hot•as•fuck orderly or turd•shuffler, whatever. But he’s a stud and he’s queer•as•fuck for Landen, and I cemented their deal but good, which is another long story. Now I’ve got to go get ready for my date...and I know you’ve got a date in the film room.”
“Are you going to tell me the whole Landen story later?” Max asked. “For sure, every vile and unspeakable detail, except for that one super•secret thing I promised never to tell a soul.” Then Jeff leaned over and kissed Max passionately, squeezing his fat beer•can•cock through his towel. It occurred to Jeff that he loved Max’s dick more than his own, which was saying quite a lot. “I love you, Max,” he said softly. As he turned to leave, Max said, “Hey Jeff, “I love you, too. And I was thinking...why don’t you come by the Fuck•nest early tomorrow morning? Maybe Mitchell and I will be able to nurse you back to health with a little TLC before practice.” Jeff grinned mischievously. “Count on it,” he said. As he turned to leave, Jeff heard, “Oh, crap, I meant to ask you—”
“Not a problem, Max,” Jeff replied, “What is it?” There wasn’t anyplace he’d rather be than wherever Max was. “It’s a little thing...I think...but, anyway, Coach suggested I move my locker up front now, you know...and—” “And you don’t want to?” Jeff asked. “Yeah...well, these guys are my mates, you know?” “So tell Coach to fuck off,” Jeff said, laughing, “or at least say, ‘No, thank you.’” “No, that’s not the problem,” Max explained, “I did tell him that and he agreed with me. I want you and three or four other starters to move back here, and the same number of younger guys to move up front. We’re all one team, you know, and I think treating the younger guys like they’re second class is divisive.” “Do you have any fucking idea how far it is from here to the showers?” Jeff asked.
“Duh,” Max replied, frowning. “I’m serious, Jeff. I need you to set an example off the field, too. I need your help. Nobody works harder than you do on the field. You’ve only been here a few weeks and you’re already the natural leader of the team...but I need the team to see that you see me as your leader.” “I’ve got conditions,” Jeff sighed, sitting back down. He was so proud of Max he could’ve popped, and he was afraid for a second he might have to dab his eyes. “No. 1, drop the towel, and at least consider the possibility of me blowing you now that we’re the last two guys in the locker room.” Max’s towel hit the floor. “No. 2, even if you or Justin have to change lockers, if I move back here, I’ve got both of you on either side of me.” “Done, if you promise not to hit on him.” “Justin? He’s a fucking ninth•grader for Christ’s sake...I’m not gonna hit on a fucking ninth•grader...I might flirt a little, but I won’t hit on him. No. 3, I don’t care who or how many upperclassmen you or Coach convince to move back here so long as two of them are Landen and William, and their lockers are right across from mine and yours...and Justin’s.”
“Why do you care about William?” Max asked. “You barely know him, plus he’s straight and—” “I don’t know why nobody ever believes me. If your gauge is who’s knocking out the most pussy, then yeah, he’s probably the straightest dude on the team. But he’s not straight, or else he doesn’t want to be anymore, whatever. But who they’re fucking doesn’t have anything to do with why I want him and Landen back here with you. Landen’s going to be one your mentors, and probably your back•up once he’s cleared to be on the field again; if not, you’re going to be his back•up again, but a back•up with new standing. William, who IS queer•as•fuck, by the way, but may not be fully aware of that fact yet, is going to be your back•up until Landen is good to go. You three can learn a lot from each other, and sharing locker space will help all of you develop some camaraderie. It’s a small thing, but you say things to your locker neighbors that might not get said otherwise. Besides I like the idea of being surrounded by three queer•as•fuck QBs.”
“OK, OK, I’m convinced,” Max insisted, “but not that William’s queer.” “We’re going to make a bet on that,” Jeff said mischievously, “as soon as I decide on what queer•as•fuck thing you’re going to have to do with William when I win the bet.” “And when I figure out what queer•as•fuck shit you’re going to have to do with Landen when you lose the bet.” “I already did some queer•as•fuck shit with Landen today,” Jeff said, flashing his naughtiest grin, “which is part of that long story I’m going to tell you and Mitchell later.” “Whatever you did, it sounds like it worked,” Max observed.
“Now what else?” he asked. “Did you have any other conditions for changing lockers?” “No. 4, that’s it, except have you given any thought to me blowing you now?” “Jeff, I can’t now, I’ve got to get to the film room and you’ve got a date. Tell you what, though...you get William to move and I’ll get Landen to move. After everybody is rearranged, we’ll flip•fuck back here one night after practice, and christen your new locker with two loads.” “Deal!” Jeff agreed. “Only it’ll be three loads, yours, mine and queer•as•fuck William’s.”πŸ’¦



Jack Richards is the pen name of a southern lawyer and prolific Tumblr author of prose porn.
This piece appeared first on Jack's Tumblr website. More will follow.
 
Artwork by Oliver Frey

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