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The Death Of The Car

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It was a warm summer’s night when I pulled up in my blue Corvette convertible to pick up my boyfriend, Colton. To my surprise, he was already standing outside, dressed to kill, as usual, but there was a string of cars lined up along the curb. Colton motioned for me to pull in front of the cars; seemingly, trying to prevent me from seeing what was going on. I’ve heard a lot of talk about Colton being a pimp and drug dealer, but he has a regular 9 to 5 so I am convinced these rumors are nothing but jealous gossip. Who wouldn’t be jealous of Colton? He’s so fine even the sky looks bluer when he’s around. And when we’re out together, women do everything they can to get his attention so I can only imagine what they do when he’s alone. But seeing the string of late model cars, made it difficult for me because I couldn’t overlook the obvious. I sat quietly and watched as Colton spoke to each driver and one by one they sped off. He appeared to be giving them instructions. I counted about ten cars with young drivers in each car. Afterwards, Colton got into my car, kissed me on the cheeks and we headed off to make love at one of our favorite hotels. I was so glad to be with him that I never bothered to ask him what was going on with all those young men who were parked at the curbside of his home. At the moment, it wasn’t important to me, I just wanted to be with him in every way. Once we arrived to our room, I started to get undressed but this night, Colton said he wanted to

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