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The desiccated remains of the girl in the street were looking fairly ragged by the time me and Nick Griffin decided our weekend of carnal exploration of each other was over.

All the time we were in bed together, I was imagining what I’d have done with the girl if it had been me.

If Nick hadn’t relegated me to babysitting his sodding sausage roll.

Perhaps the mental images spurred me on; perhaps it was why Nick commended me so highly after we collapsed on the moist sheets together.

But all the while I was thinking about her.

The gusher.

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