This Isn't a Field Trip Farm
Taking a deep breathe stepping out of the car you stare at what you hope to God is the authors house. You’d give anything to find out who the author is, but then again you’d give anything to flee for your life. Your feet move by themselves now and your heart is beating out of your chest. You ring the doorbell and wait for a response, and the last thing you remember is “Why am I getting hard right now?”
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