Part 259: Penblwydd Hapus
Early morning, but the 7am alarm beside the marriage bed hadn't burst into life yet -- it was the creeping lines of April sunshine that had roused the recovering football captain, a few harsh bars of it stretching over his side of the bed and making him wake up ahead of his wife. At first he lay there quite still, flexing and relaxing muscles in his legs and middle to see how much stronger his body was feeling as he neared the end of his post-op rehab on a groin injury -- but then he heard a slight noise downstairs and quickly the Sunderland-born athlete was restless. It was the sound of a door being shut, quietly enough, but rendered a muffled slam by the sleepy silence of the house.
Jordan Henderson gave a long cautious stare across the pillows at his wife's peaceful face, framed in wild strands of hair, before gently lifting himself out of bed, one bare foot at a time on the carpet, letting the strips of sunlight caress warmly over bare muscle. The baggy grey boxer shorts drooped about the tops of his legs and the sleepy flop of his privates, but wedged uncomfortably between hard muscular cheeks, which he tugged out before adjusting the front and letting his hand play very briefly against the heavy contents; he knew full well what that noise downstairs signalled.
The Liverpool skipper tiptoed about the bedroom, taking care not to make a noise as he fished his robe from a hook by the door, but pausing to squirt a few blasts of manly aftershave against his neck and chest in a fit of self-consciousness, knowing he would smell of sleep and last night's sex. Then he moved for the door, pulling the silky dressing gown about his 6ft body and exiting onto the landings -- as always, he shut away the guilt as he escaped his bedroom with his wife and moved away from the family life of the large house's upstairs, descending the stairway into lust.
Sure enough, there he was, performing a couple of post-run stretches -- currently balanced on one leg, yanking the other back to stretch out calf, thigh, hamstring, making him look as poised as a flamingo beside the porch entrance. Tight black under-shorts stretched most of the way down his thighs, well past the curved edge of the skimpier green running shorts over them, and the charcoal-grey nylon top was a little loose about the lean muscle of his torso. A little sweat shone on his calves, forearms, his shapely cheeks and chin. It made the dark curls of his hair glisten over his reddened face, eyes closed as he stretched down.
Henderson quietly finished the last few steps and, quiet as he was being, the fall of his strong feet on the boards of the hallway made a little jerk of awareness pass through Neco Williams where he carefully stood. The youthful Wales player opened his eyes and mouth a little wider in surprise to not be so alone at this early hour when he would dip from the house on his disciplined little runs of their Liverpool suburb, but then his handsome face cracked with a trademark grin of dazzling white teeth.
Jordan moved across the room, the robe dangling open so that his chest, abdomen, the loose bulge of his boxers, all of it on show to Neco as he approached him, and the 30-year-old was gratified by the appreciative way the younger guy scanned him up and down. He laid one hand gently at the base of his back, feeling the damp warmth of muscle beneath the grey stretchy material, and he lunged in with his face, grabbing a short breathy kiss of morning breath between them. Jordan took his other hand and held him by the hips, turning him a little so that the second kiss could be more full on, a slow exploration of one another's parched lips and then an invasion of tongue. Neco whimpered into his mouth and his hands rested lightly against Jordan's elbows.
`Good mornin',' Jordan breathed, pausing the kiss to get the words out in his thick Mackem accent.
`Morning,' the young defender mumbled quietly back, the broad smile still cracking his features. His breathing was still recovering from the run, his narrow but strong chest rising and falling inside the top, and each puffing exhalation tickling against Jordan's own stubbled chin and neck.
`And... happy birthday,' the Liverpool midfielder told his boy gently.
Oh,' was Neco's instant murmur of surprise, I never said...'
You think I don't know when your birthday is?' Henderson muttered cynically at him. He pressed a little more tightly against his waist, kissing him again, brief wet pecks between their hanging mouths, then, Twenty today. You gorgeous thing.'
`Mmm. Getting old, like you.'
`Watch it, handsome.'
One of Neco's hands began to reach inside the robe but Jordan caught and held it, shaking his hand a little, and returning it to the youth's own parts, pressing both of their fingers in agains the sweat-damp bulge in the front of those double-shorts, rubbing it until it felt bigger and warmer. Get them shorts off,' the Premiership captain whispered. Neco's alarmed eyes screamed here?' and `now?' at him but he grinned determinedly and slowly licked his upper lip. Backing an inch from him, Williams did as instructed, pushing at the waistband of the shorts and then peeling the tight lycra below -- out swung his cock and balls beneath the neat little trim of his pubes, a thick young semi and low-hanging bollocks.
Jordan felt a little twinge of pain to go down on his knees, stretching them apart as he lowered his robed body to the hall floor, but he ignored it and brought his face in lovingly between his young man's thighs, breathing against the curve of the stiffening cock. He smelled the rich sweaty privacy of the toned young athlete and found it so arousing for some reason, the vitality and freshness of it, here in the middle of the house's entrance hall. He breathed against it some more and brought one hand up to tickle the balls from beneath, earning a little gaspy sound from the birthday boy. Then, at last, he kissed the shaft, nuzzling it with his lips and the stubble of his chin. `Oh, Hendo,' sighed the Welshman up above.
Staying on his knees for a dangerous couple of minutes, Hendo lavished the prize, rubbing his lips up and down it, teasing the wrinkle of foreskin and mouthing at each sweaty ball for a little while on its own, then taking about half of the now hard length into his hungry mouth, licking sweat from its pink head and hearing the intense effort of Neco not to yelp out in satisfaction. Jordan slowly pulled back, his hands clamped against hips, and he looked up at Neco's sheened face, their eyes locking. Then he angled his features and gave the cock one last lick across its head from below, very slow and teasing, before hoisting himself upwards and straightening his strong hairy legs.
`Your room,' he said authoritatively with a little jerk of his head.
Neco paused only to remove each running shoe to avoid their squeaky gait, then squeezed hands with him and led him through the downstairs of the mansion, into the ground floor guest room directly below his own -- the Welsh youth's home here in the bosom of Jordan's own family life, so dangerous yet so perfect for them.
Inside the room, Jordan cuddled him from behind, pulling his own bare body heat against the back of those running clothes, then stretching his arms down the front to where cock and balls still sprung free. He teased and stroked them for Neco, kissing the back of his neck and smelling the fruity perfume of hair product that lingered on the back of his head. `You knew I'd want to treat you for your birthday,' Henderson whispered to him, one hand full of his cock and the other sliding under his running shirt to feel his ripped abs.
I hoped,' Neco whispered sensitively, but I know you're still in recovery, so...'
`I'm well enough to make you happy though, aye?'
`Seems it,' the younger footballer returned with a trace of giggle in his voice.
`Mmm.' Jordan peeled the running shirt up and off for him now, letting his knuckles graze his ticklish nipples as he did, exposing the lean back muscle before him and letting his own chest and tummy rub against it. He shrugged back so that the robe fell away and he was stripped to his loose grey boxers, in which his cock throbbed frustratingly.
His attention moved downwards and so did his hands, grabbing and massaging the high perky cheeks of Neco's bottom, admiring the fuzzy darkness that disappeared between them with his hairy young crack. God, how much he wanted to plough that dark gap -- he thought of it nightly now, craving the climax that this affair had been building up to. But he knew that he was not physically up to it, not yet. Even with his wife, sex had consisted of him pleasuring her at length with mouth or fingers and then carefully tossing himself off once she was sated. A husbandly duty he refused to give up even in his early physio.
He squeezed each glute in a hand and growled his wordless desire, though surely Williams knew EXACTLY what he was thinking -- he could see the fear that it always brought in Neco's eyes, but both of them knew they were heading for that, and he would only do it when he was sure that the young stud was entirely ready. But for now...
The crack was lubed with sweat as his finger glided into it, damp and hairy on his digit. He reached his right hand around to stroke loosely at the straining erection and continued to plant soft kisses along the length of Neco's shoulders, while his left hand began to work at his rump -- dragging that one index finger up and down the furry crack, tracing the sweat of his run, and slowing each time against the wrinkled little hole that both resisted and twitched for him. Mmm, captain,' came the right-back's soft whine, a voice that chimed with both the resistance and the desperate need, ohhh... yes...'
Jordan took his time before pushing that one finger a bit more firmly into the inexperienced opening he had been gently working on the rare occasions that Neco allowed him, two or three times with the stolen toy from his wife's bedside drawer. But there was no need for a toy when his strong fingers could do the work. In he pushed, feeling the intense muscular tightness of it. Relax,' he purred, but he knew it wasn't that simple; still, he pushed deeper, going as far inside this gorgeous lad as he could, then holding it very still, tickling his balls and shaft with the other hand to try and calm him. Is this okay, birthday boy?' he asked in a moan.
`Yes sir. Yes, Jordan.'
How about this?' He began to slide the finger back and forth, in and out of the muscular ring, making Williams properly gasp and suck in air. As careful as he was, Henderson could not help but give some strength and urgency to his motions, beginning to finger the Welsh arse with the same vigour that could bring his wife to screams -- jerking on the 20-year-old's prick at the very same time, matching rhythm between his attentions. A second finger okay, Neco...?' The answer wasn't quite a `yes', it wasn't really words, it was just an animalistic yowl. Jordan began to push with a second finger, much more difficult to work at the virign hole. He kissed roughly at the side of Neco's neck as he did it, feeling the absolute ache in his own meat where it wanted to take over. But in went a second finger, forcing ever-so-slowly inside.
`Oh god, skipper....'
`Mmm, you like that? Mmm...'
`Oh... yes.... Mmm...'
Jordan now ceased play with his right hand. He didn't jerk the cock again, or even tickle those low-hangers. He brought it flat against the ridges of Neco's tummy, refusing to touch his cock, and holding back his own arm as he did. Just let me do this,' he growled powerfully, barring him from taking over and wanking himself, just holding his lean sweaty frame and kissing at him. Just... see if... I can...'
He frigged the tight bottom, gunning two fingers in and out with as much energy and rhythm as he could muster, really making a pussy of the tight hole and working it as he would his beloved's cunt. As he had just last night. He found his own grunting breaths matched the rising excitement of Neco's, and he clung even tighter to him. No,' he growled when again the young footballer tried to reach for his own throbbing prick. No, let me...' But he didn't reach down to touch it again, just poked over and over inside him with two thick knuckles, jabbing at his g-spot with mad force, sure that if he kept going, if he really pushed deep and really took control here, he could do it -- he could bring this beautiful fucker off without even needing to hold his cock.
Was it a thing? He was pretty sure men could have hands-free orgasms, but maybe it was just a myth.
The challenge roused and emboldened him more, and he swapped hands -- he could get far more strength in there with the right -- dragging the greasy fingers of his left over the lad's chest and up to gently but securely hold his throat. All the while, frigging him between strong glutes, finger-fucking that hairy entrance, becoming red-faced and wild with the effort and excitement of it. His cock absolutely strained at the material of his boxers, wanting to be uncaged and put to use!
`Fuck, fuck, FUCK,' Neco whimpered.
Come on, baby,' Jordan urged. Cum for me, cum for daddy.'
Ohhhh god,' the younger Liverpool player cried, riskily loud against the silent backdrop of the house, and pushing back with every muscle into his captain's embrace. At last, Jordan's resolve broke; he just couldn't keep his hands off the prize, and his left hand stooped to enfold and tug on the taut erection, making it explode within three simple jerks, a messy load splattering forward against the foot of the unmade bed, creamy splodges of excitement pelting the pastel colours of the sheets. And still Jordan fingered him, pushing the two digits in deep all through the gasping whines of orgasm, enjoying the fleshy smacking noise of it and the jiggling of muscular cheeks. When he finally stopped, he kept the two fingers deep in him, rubbing at his cock with the other hand, and kissing the sides of his neck, jaw, cheek, licking sweat from his skin. You beautiful man,' he whispered, `you're so fucking beautiful, baby...'
And then, as if he needed to prove this point, he wrested his fingers away from the arse and left Neco standing alone, shaky and pink-faced, and he crouched down again onto his knees. But not to turn and lick the shaft, to return to the teasing almost-blowjob that he had initiated out in the hall -- nope, he stooped towards the bed, and glanced once to make sure that Neco was watching, then he went mad. Pushed his tongue far out and scooped little patches of the messy off-white into his mouth, eating the flecks of Welsh cream off the wrinkled bedding, lapping up the stains of his young man's orgasm, tasting all of its salty madness in his mouth. He snuffled and snorted his breath in the effort to do so, and only stopped when there were just little dark stains left; he turned his head, a little shocked at his own filthy rush, and stared back at Neco, who was gawping down at him in amazement.
Jordan reeled internally -- he had never quite recovered from the shock of his own stretched limits the first time he blew Neco in the home gym and swallowed his load. It was something that, in the abstract, made him feel sick to the stomach -- even when he'd watched Adam Lallana consume his own seed, it had horrified him more than anything else that went on between the two close friends. But in the moment, faced with the joyous eruptions of his beautiful lad, he wanted nothing more than to eat it and show his devotion. Still, lapping it form the bedsheets like this and crouching down in front of the shaky youth, he felt like he'd gone momentarily insane.
He rose to his feet and stood beside the other 6ft sportsman, not leaning in for the kiss, but just holding apart from each other, both musty and in need of showers, one trembling with orgasm and the other still sporting an aching erection of morning wood. `Happy birthday,' he repeated, his voice a little hollow with the daze of his wild behaviour. His fingers and knuckles of both hands ached a bit from the angles and pace of the fingering he'd given to that tight ring -- he could only imagine the sting of pain Neco might be feeling down there.
Oh god,' was all the Wrexham-born defender could mumble, a sleepy glee on his face. Captain,' he said, as if about to say much more, but falling dumb. He grinned and sniggered and shrugged.
`You're calling in sick to training today.'
`What?'
`Call in sick. You're not well enough to train.'
`On my birthday? It'll be so obvious...'
`I'll back you up, won't I? In fact, I'll call for you. Say you ain't well enough to. I'll speak to Jurgen.'
`But, what, erm...'
I've booked us in for lunch,' Jordan said in a hot mumbling rush. Little café over the border. Outdoor table. I wanted to treat you for your birthday.' He became self-conscious and uncomfortable with his own gesture, the notion of a secret lunch out somehow feeling more embarrassing and emasculating than kneeling to tongue spunk up off a duvet. He waited for some gentle refusal from the right-back, some excuse or pointing out of the obvious -- it was mad and risky for them to skive off and go somewhere public together, but it was an idea he'd been working on for weeks now. He breathed out and stopped Neco's hand where it reached for his cock. No,' he said, not now.'
`After lunch, then,' the 20-year-old whispered, dark eyes glittering with lust.
The football captain just nodded back at him, straining with self-control. `After lunch.'
Their table was relatively private in the small coastal café, and both men had Nike baseball caps with the brims pulled discreetly low and forward, but still Neco felt jabs of danger that only mildly tainted the pleasure of lunch out with his captain and lover. What exactly was the danger? Nobody seeing two Premiership teammates enjoying a meal would assume that the elder of the two had his fingers jabbed up the other's arse-hole at the start of the day... But he had skived training at the injured skipper's command, and a sly snapshot of their lunch out would raise a lot of questions at the club even before it risked any exposure of their secret intimacy.
Even with this alertness, the birthday boy enjoyed the trip -- every bit of it had felt exciting, and he kept blushing at his own youthful enjoyment of being whisked away in Jordan's car and over the nearby border into his native North Wales. The spring sunshine over the rocky sea, the high-end little bistro in the middle of nowhere, and perhaps more than anything else, the knowing that Hendo had thought ahead: planned, booked, organised. There was a specialness to that which buzzed the defensive player and made him all the more desperate to repay the messy orgasm that had been sprung on him this morning at the end of his dawn jog.
His lean buttocks clenched against the wooden seat he occupied at their outdoor table, a little pain and discomfort between them. He was still struggling with the exploration of his bottom, still tensed up whenever their play moved in that direction, even though he'd had a couple of fingers in him and that silly toy Jordan had stolen from his wife. He knew exactly how long and meaty Jordan's own toy was and he felt so genuinely unsure if he would be able to take it when the moment came, though it was so clearly what the recuperating 30-year-old wanted from him next. And in his own way, Jordan wanted it to, just wanted to feel `complete' with the older bloke, but there was so much in the way of that desire -- a mix of the physical uncertainty of the deed itself and his young confusion over what this all meant, to be smitten so with a man. What a man, admittedly, but still... a man!
He often wished Harvey Elliott was still around. Though it had caused some difficulty between them last year, the cocky younger lad had seemed so relaxed in trying new things, so much more confident in dabbling with guy-on-guy stuff. Neco could remember with a mixture of shame and delight that first weed-fuelled night when Harvey had encouraged him to experiment, and he didn't necessarily long for that, but he felt that explaining his situation to Harvey might help... except that he suspected the loaned player would not be totally trustworthy with the explosive information on their captain. Neco could not imagine taking the risk of telling anyone that he was involved with Jordan fucking Henderson, the married dad had so much more to lose!
How's your food?' Jordan asked now, breaking the quiet of their meal -- Neco realised that he had been quiet for too long and some of his thoughtfulness must have shown in a frown on his face, so he grinned and nodded, quietly heaping vague praise on the chosen restaurant. You're not wishing you were back in training?' the captain asked, cutting through his chatter.
Neco shrugged. `I feel a bit bad on the other lads, but... I'm really happy here with you.'
Jordan met his eyes, smiling a little bashfully at this. `And me, lad. And me.'
After the food, Jordan footing the bill, the two men didn't return to the bistro's small car park, but carried on along the clifftops on a short walk. The remote venue overlooked the gaping Dee estuary and, beyond it, the bulging land of the Wirral and Merseyside. Both men stared silently out at this afternoon view as they walked, Jordan going slightly ahead with his hands pushed into the pockets of his pale-wash denim, a slim-fitting pale blue shirt hugging his back and shoulders. Neco watched the slow pulse of muscle through both garments longingly, feeling his cock begin to wake up in the front of his own skinny black jeans. When the horn came to him, the doubts and worries about being in the thrall of a man tended to fuck off, replaced with only a dead certainty that he wanted to suck he captain off and make him moan.
Still, it was rare for Neco to be the one who made the first move, usually quite passive and hesitant against the strength and assurance of Hendo. But today, no longer a teenager and feeling unusually confident in how the married bloke felt for him, he took the risk of reaching out and stroking Jordan's lower back, pleased with the smirk over the shoulder as the other 6ft footballer paused in the track to let him touch. Neco stroked his back and then glanced about them to check the hilltop path was really deserted, then leaned in for a pecking little kiss. `You did say after lunch,' he reminded Jordan in a nervous whisper.
Jordan just grinned boldly at him. `Aye. Why do you think we're walkin' up here, man?'
He strolled on ahead and Neco's cock became pretty much solid against the taut front of his skinnies. He hurried to keep up with Jordan's stride, the two of them rounding a twist in the path a little further from the cliff edges, and then Henderson suddenly deviating a little from the path, moving up through the undergrowth with branches and greenery scratching at his jeans and shirt. Neco hurried after him, away from the path and up a sharp rise until they were tumbling into a clearer hollow between the thick bushes, a perfectly smooth dip of grass.
Jordan turned around and Neco found that he was not the only one busting at the constraints of denim. The outline of the Sunderland man's cock was large and obvious in the pale grey-blue of his jeans, crying to be released. The 20-year-old stroked it gently, squaring up to his captain, pouting at him and fluttering his dark lashes. `Here?' he asked in disbelief.
Here,' Henderson confirmed in a simple purr. It'll be okay. Just... remember I have to go easy.'
It sounded apologetic, and Jordan had certainly seemed embarrassed by his recent physical limitations, but Neco was just overwhelmed with desire for him. He kissed him and stroked more at the outline of his hard-on. `You just lie back and let me thank you,' he said in a hungry murmur, tugging on the fabric of the shirt and encouraging the senior footballer to back away and then sink down to the grass. Once he was edging onto his back, Neco impatiently twisted open each button and kissed his chest and tummy between the opened garment, eagerly planting his lips and tongue against the firm muscle, only lightly haired in the chest and down the centre of the abs. Jordan gasped appreciatively, resting on his elbows and keeping his head up to smirk encouragingly.
Williams wanted to do it all very slow, to be sensual and teasing, but he was young and horny and the man in front of him was irresistible, so it ended up a clunky rush -- the dragging open of the thick leather belt and the unzipping of the jeans, then their rough pull away down his legs. The sight of some scarring made him slow and take care as he moved to pulling down the trunks below, removing the black cotton gently and then ducking down to lick the tip of the raging erection. Raging hard just for him, he thought, overwhelmed by how much his desire was clearly returned.
There in the grassy hollow, separated from the public footpath by a short steep distance of gorse and thick coastal grass, he hunched over Jordan's relaxed form and sucked him off, with the same relish as every time before, from that first dramatic union at his Wales hotel, to each seedy visit to his former apartment, to every secretive arrival in the Hendersons' guest bedroom. He knew the shape and warmth of the meaty thing well against his mouth, and he knew exactly how to please it, to please him. He found the will to slow down and not rush to the goal, but it took a lot of effort, and his own cock was aching against the tightness of his skinny jeans.
He looked up at one point, wanting to make eye contact with Hendo, glad to see the captain eyeing him intensely rather than just lounging back and moaning. They stared each other down, Neco's plump lips and rolling tongue pink-red about the throbbing pipe, but his expression sweetly innocent as they connected. He could see a tense embarrassment in Jordan, who could not risk being more active and mobile in their encounters until his fitness was match-ready, but he didn't care, having had the vigorous finger fucking this morning by his bed. His arse, still sore, throbbed at the memory of it and how he had come close to blowing his load almost without his cock being touched!
`Neco, I'm going to cum,' Jordan growled, and he just locked eyes with him again, bobbing up and down to finish the job, but never letting their gazes separate. Jordan growled and groaned and his knuckles whitened as he gripped at the thick green grass either side of his lounged body. Chest muscles heaved visible in the unbuttoned shirt. His cock felt hot and tense and Neco anticipated the mouthful he would receive -- so he was quite shocked when one of Jordan's hands clutched his jaw and then pushed his face firmly away just before he came. Neco was disappointed, reeling back with some dizziness, watching as spunk pumped from the shaft -- why was the skipper denying him this dessert?!
Neco,' the North Eastern man grunted, get yer jeans off.' He spoke with such a rush of authority that Neco was fumbling at his button and zip before he knew what was happening. Jordan was lurching onto his side and pushing him to do the same, pushing him away from him even as he managed to loosen the tight skinnies and push them and his white boxer briefs down. Neco lay on his side in a hot fug of confusion, but then felt and knew exactly what his orgasming captain wanted -- he felt fingers on his arse again, and they were damp and sticky. When he felt Jordan's one digit move firmly between his cheeks, he knew what the wetness on it was. He gasped Jordan's name loudly as he felt a finger of cum pushed inside him. There,' Jordan moaned into his ear, feel that inside you, Neco...'
Fuck,' he whimpered, not at the feeling of a second finger, but at the stickiness pushed into him, the horny thrill of being claimed in this way, out here on the Welsh clifftop. FUCK.'
I want to shoot in you,' Hendo muttered at him, kissing his earlobe, I want to spunk in you and make you mine properly, baby.' He moaned, rubbing the damp tip of his dick at the base of Neco's spine while one hand pushed two spunky fingers in to fulfil this wish and the other hand rubbed up his front over hi clingy tshirt, feeling his muscles beneath it. Neco, still dazed from being deprived his mouthful of seed, just lay there and gasped; momentarily, the broad hand on his abdomen slid down and now Jordan was pulling him off, jerking him while working just one finger in his hole, which ached and burned but took it, lubricated only by Jordan's cum, oh yesss. Yes,' he yelped as he unloaded his own balls over the grass, yes!' And in the moment he KNEW how much he did want it -- he HAD to be able to take that dick because he wanted exactly what Hendo wanted, to be his.
They didn't lay there in the grass for long, wallowing in the physical glory of what they'd just done, though Neco might happily have done so, whiling away more of his birthday in his captain's arms, cuddled from behind and stroked and kissed. Jordan was the more cautious one this time, rolling away to button up his shirt and wipe his dirty hand on the thicker clumps of grass, moving cautiously as he pulled his undies and jeans back up, seeming to wince a little as if he'd exerted himself too fully. Neco thought about how strong Jordan would soon be and how as soon as he was cleared to play his first returning game, it would be time for them to go further. He sat there, in the middle of doing up his tight jeans, and he felt the stickiness between his cheeks.
`I can't wait,' he thought aloud.
`Huh?'
`I can't wait for you to be fit.'
`Match fit,' Jordan murmured back to him.
`Not just the matches,' Neco responded forcefully, and they just grinned at each other.
We'll only do it when you're ready,' Hendo told him, patting him just above the arse as they began to pick their way back to the still empty main path, cocks wilting in the tight crotches of their jeans, bodies rosy with the brief exertion of orgasm. Neco smiled and rubbed their arms together as they rejoined the route back to the bistro. Captain, I'm ready when you are,' he promised, and meant it.
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