How I Got Carter

Chapter 11

By Roe St. Alee

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What strange surprises this life has to offer.

If you had asked me six hours ago what I thought was going to happen at this exact moment tonight, my answer would not have been anything close to correct. I would have said that I’d be hanging out with Ko and Katy, or maybe that I’d be playing some sort of drinking game with kids from school. My answer would never have been “I’m going to go home with Carter.”

But here we are. Neither of us were feeling the party, and Carter suggested that we get out of there. Not only that, but he suggested that we head back to his place. He just had a blowup with his girlfriend, and he’s feeling alone and vulnerable. I’ve had a beer or two, and I feel like this is the closest we’ve ever been. On paper, this night could not have been constructed more perfectly in my wildest dreams.

As always, however, it’s all about context.

We’re not going home to have a passionate, drunken hookup, or even to cuddle and watch a movie on the couch. We didn’t have to leave the party because of the intense sexual energy between the two of us. Those are all the details we’d need to add in to make this just like one of my fantasies.

Of course I’m not complaining. This is a great chance to get to know Carter a little more, especially with how shaken he seems after his spat with Beth. As much as I want to get with him in the carnal sense, the rest of me has a true and honest desire to be there for him as a friend.

In situations like these, Ko always tells me I’m too nice, and that I’ll never get what I want. But if being too nice is my greatest flaw, I’m happy with that.

The night is brisk but not uncomfortable, and as the din of the party fades into the darkness behind us, we’re left with a cool, quiet fall evening. It’s actually nice, just to be walking together, and in most situations, I’d be happy to just leave it at that. But I’m too curious not to keep prying at what we were talking about before Robert walked in on our conversation at the party.

I look over at Carter and try to imagine what he might be thinking about right now. Is he still dwelling on our conversation from earlier? Before it was almost like he had a burning desire to share with me and get whatever it is off his chest. And we were so close. Will he still be game to talk about it?

Bold action. That’s all it takes, I remind myself. I simply need to ask.

“What did you want to tell me before?” I come right out with it. That’s one of the ‘bold action’ tricks I think I’ve picked up so far. You can’t slowly wade into something that you think is hard to do. It’s like a swimming pool in April. You need to dive in all at once. No dipping your toes.

“Oh, that.” Carter doesn’t sound surprised or disturbed that I asked him about it, but he doesn’t sound excited to share it either. “I dunno, I guess I was just going to say that Beth and I aren’t doing great.”

That’s Carter’s big secret?

Beth and Carter are not doing great. No shit. I could probably have guessed it from the way she stormed out of the party and left Carter shirtless and miserable in the bedroom. That was my first sign.

“We don’t really…” Carter continues, but still can’t find the right words. “We… we have problems.”

It’s not saying a lot, but even that seemed like a struggle for Carter. Whatever these ‘problems’ are, they’re a big deal to him.

“Everyone has problems,” I suggest helpfully. As little love as I have for Beth, I understand that a large part of my dislike is coming from an unfair, jealous place. Nobody has a perfect relationship, and no matter how much I want Carter all to myself, my conscience always makes me defend someone when they aren’t here to do it for themselves.

Maybe Ko’s right. I am too nice.

“Of course,” Carter says, agreeing with my simple truth about the universality of problems, “but I don’t know sometimes.”

I take the bait.

“What don’t you know?”

“About us. About me and Beth. She’s great. She’s hot, and popular, and there’s no reason I shouldn’t want to be with her. But still, I’m just not sure sometimes.”

If hot and popular are the only two prerequisites for a relationship in Carter’s eyes, I think I may see the problem.

“What don’t you like about her?” I ask.

I know what you might be thinking, but I say it in a nice way. More trying to get Carter to put his confusion into words, and less trying to make Beth’s problems more prevalent in his thought process. I’m certainly not going to complain if it happens, but that isn’t my goal.

“Nothing really,” he replies. The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him, so he tries again. “I mean, there are some little things that annoy me here and there, but nothing I can put my finger on and say ‘That’s it, that’s the one thing that I don’t like.’”

“So what’s the issue?” I ask.

If she’s all that and a bag of chips, what is there to complain about? Carter doesn’t offer up a response, so I think of a different way to say it.

“Right this second,” I continue, “what is bothering you the most about you and Beth?”

I’m expecting another long, drawn out explanation, or plenty of fumbling around through Carter’s thoughts and feelings. As I said, teenage boys are not so great at exploring their emotions. But Carter surprises me this time and answers with almost no hesitation at all.

“We don’t even have sex,” he says, as though it’s the most shameful part of the entire story so far. Coming from a seventeen year old boy, he probably he has a point.

“Like, ever?” The question comes off a little harsh, but I’m too curious to tone down my interest.

“We’ve fooled around a little bit, but that’s it. And even that hasn’t been recently.” He pauses for a bit, and I can tell he’s weighing his words, considering how much to tell me. “It’s just like, there’s always problems with it. Like we can’t or we shouldn’t for some reason, and then… we don’t.”

I try to think of what question to ask, or what other aspects of that we can explore. I am, quite frankly, very surprised to hear this. I tend to imagine that all the other dudes at school are hooking up and having sex pretty much nonstop, so it’s weird to hear that Carter, a prize specimen of sexual appeal if there ever was one, is not getting any at all.

“She’s hot and perfect and any guy would probably kill for the chance to go out with her,” Carter says frustratedly, “but I’m not sure it’s for me. I almost feel like we think we’re supposed to be together, and that’s why we’re doing it.”

He turns to face me as we walk, and I realize it’s up to me to say something, or even do something at this point. I can’t even begin to guess how many times I’ve fantasized about this exact situation. Carter having a fight with Beth and coming to me for support, comfort, and… maybe more. But now that I’m here and it all seems to be happening, I’m not actually sure what to do.

In the end, I just feel bad for him. Fear, doubt, questioning - I’m no stranger to any of these feelings, and I know how hard it is. I need to be there for him. No matter how this ever ends up, I have to be there for Carter as a friend, and to make sure he’s ok. As much as it pains me to put my feelings for him on a bit of a back burner, that’s what really matters.

“It’s ok,” I say reassuringly, “Everybody feels like that sometimes.”

It’s generic, but it’s the notion of what I’m saying that I really want to get across to him. Good, positive vibes.

“You really think so?” Carter asks.

“Yeah,” I say, putting my hand lightly on his back as we walk, “I do.”

We lapse into silence as we reach Carter’s street, but it’s a good silence. It’s comfortable and pleasant to hear nothing but the light rustling of breeze through the handful of leaves still clinging to their trees at this time of year.

When Carter finally breaks the silence, I know I must have gotten through.

“It’s weird,” he says. “I feel like you’re so easy to talk to. Like, you…” He wrings his hands for a second as he tries to think of the words. I wish I could see his face right now, because I love the expression he makes when he’s thinking hard. “You don’t use my words and take them away for yourself. You just listen, and then the things I tell you are still mine.”

He chuckles a little embarrassed sort of laugh. “Sorry, that doesn’t make sense.” He sighs. “And it probably sounds really stupid,” he adds.

“No,” I assure him, “I totally get it.”

“It’s just like no matter what I tell you I know that you…”

“I wouldn’t ever use what you say to hurt you?”

We happen to be passing under a streetlight at the moment, and out the corner of my eye, I see Carter smile.

“Exactly.”

I know how he feels. That’s part of what has been so vital in my relationship with Katy and Ko. They both give me crap all the time about everything, but they know what I’m sensitive about, too. If it came to one of those topics that I can’t handle, like coming out or some stuff about my family, they would never make it into a joke or share it with someone I didn’t trust.

Part of it is that they know me well enough to walk that line and not cross it, but a huge part of it is just what kind of people they are. As tough as Ko likes to act, and as much of a rebellious teen as he seems to be, he has a serious side. And Katy’s almost the opposite. She’s sweet and caring to everyone to an extent, but is fiercely, passionately loyal to her friends.

In whatever way Carter sees that same thing in me, I’m honored. Even if I ignored my feelings for him, it’s cool to know that I can be there for someone, especially in his case where he might not have other friends in whom he can confide something like this.

Come to think of it, I couldn’t see a lot of the football players having a sensitive, tender side where you can pour your heart out to them and get a hug for it. More like a towel snap while they tell you how “gay” you sound. I can’t imagine any of them openly showing that side of themselves, whether they have it or not.

At last we reach Carter’s house. As we pass through the gate, a thought occurs to me.

“Are you sure it’s cool if I come over tonight?” I ask.

It probably would have made more sense to ask this before we left the party at the Rothson’s.

“Yeah,” Carter replies, “it’s no problem.” He stops as we get to his front door and he chuckles. “What would you do if I said no?”

He has a point there.

We head into the house just like last time I came over and through the kitchen to the basement door. Just like last time, as we go through the kitchen, I see the glare of a television coming from the next room over.

Before, I thought it was a bit odd that Carter didn’t introduce me to either of his parents. This time, however, it’s a little stranger. It’s a bit past midnight, and apparently one of Carter’s parents is still awake. While I don’t expect an introduction or formal welcome into the house, I find it strange that Carter doesn’t check in with his parents. If I get home late and my mom is still up, I go straight over to where she is and let her know I made it home safe.

I make a mental note to ask Carter about it, but honestly I’m not sure if I will. In all the time we’ve spent together, Carter has never once mentioned his family. I know he’s an only child, and I know he has both a mom and a dad, because I’ve seen them at school functions once or twice. Beyond that, I have no idea, besides the fact that his family is loaded. He’s never said that specifically, but from the house and his bedroom, it doesn’t leave a lot of room to doubt the fact that at least one of his parents makes a lot of money.

Granted, I don’t know that I’ve explicitly mentioned my family to Carter either. I’m sure I’ve made some comment here or there about my brother and sister. I almost always have a good story to share about their latest antics. But beyond that, I don’t think I’ve said much. It’s not something that comes up in normal conversation, about how my dad is gone, or that my mom has raised me since I was three years old. It’s important information, but it’s not something I would ever just bring up out of the blue.

As I head down the stairs into the basement, I decide to table the family talk for now. It’s late, and I’m not sure about Carter, but I wouldn’t object to forgoing any more serious talks tonight. If it wasn’t for the sliver of hope that we repeat what we did the last time I was over here, I’d be fine with just going to bed.

By the time I hit the last step, Carter’s already across the room at his dresser. Before I can say or do anything, he tosses a pair a of pajama pants at me.

“Here,” he says, “these’ll be a lot better for sleeping.”

Clearly sleeping is in the cards for the very near future. No complaints from me.

I head into the bathroom and take a closer look at the pants Carter gave me to wear to bed. They’re well worn, and the thought of how many nights Carter might have spent with these on his body makes me a little dizzy. Now they’re going to be on my body.

I instinctively look around the room to make sure no one’s watching me, which immediately strikes me as ridiculous, since I’m in a bathroom. Even so, it’s nice to be sure that no one will see me bring the pants straight up to my nose and take a nice, big whiff.

Wishful thinking.

They smell like detergent and fabric softener. Carter pulled them out of his dresser, which usually indicates that clothes are clean. Some musky Carter smells would have been better, but I can’t complain about having a clean, soft pair of pajama bottoms to wear to bed. I shuck my pants and underwear (after all that did you really think I wouldn’t go commando in them?) and pull them on.

They’re comfy. Carter is a little bit bigger than me, but the pants fit well, meaning they must hug his legs and butt when he wears them. I’d like to see it. I check myself out in the mirror, and after determining that I look pretty damn good, I head back out into the basement.

Oh, he’s done it again.

When I come back out, Carter has mostly undressed himself in preparation for bed. He lost his shirt while I was in the bathroom, leaving himself barechested and beautiful. It literally takes my breath away, to have to look at all his smooth, rippley muscles.

But that’s just the tip of the iceberg, because he’s in the process of taking off his pants. He shucks his jeans off and tosses them in his hamper, leaving himself clothed in only a pair of blue and green boxer briefs. And they look good. So damn good. I guess it makes sense if he was planning on maybe getting some action with Beth tonight.

It’s not out of the ordinary to have a boy strip down to his underwear in front of me. It happens all the time in the locker room, and Ko and I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to go down to boxers in front of each other. But this is Carter. He’s way too hot to be peeling his clothes off in front of me.

I duck over next to the couch and pretend to busy myself with folding my clothes and making a neat pile of my wallet and phone. Hopefully Carter doesn’t notice the intense amount of redness in my cheeks or hear the pounding of my heart. As much as I love it, he really shouldn’t do these things to me.

Luckily he takes my place in the bathroom, and before I swoon or engage in noticeably heavy breathing, he’s gone. I shake my head in disbelief. That kid is so outrageously hot, and it seems like every time I hang out with him something happens where he takes most of his clothes. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but even if it is, it’s sure as hell a happy one.

This is the second time I’ve been alone in Carter’s room. A slight pang of guilt hits me as I remember that the last time I was in here and I snooped through his computer. Along with the guilt, however, comes a wave of excitement as I remember not only what I found on his computer, but also what happened afterwards.

It’s probably not good for me to think too hard about all that stuff. Not to mention the spectacle I was treated to about a minute ago as Carter paraded around the room wearing hardly anything at all. I can already feel a little pressure in my pants, as a little extra blood starts flowing down into my crotch. That’s the last thing I need when Carter gets out of the bathroom. A nice tent in my pants.

I hurriedly look around the room for something to distract myself with until he gets out. There are some magazines over by the far end of the couch, but it seems weird to pick up a magazine and start reading it. I could turn on the TV, which might distract me for a few minutes, although I’m never sure what remote I’m supposed to use (there are four sitting on the coffee table) or how to make sure the cable, sound, and all the other stuff is working right.

Or…

No, that’s not a good idea.

When Carter grabbed his pajama pants earlier, he went into the top drawer of his dresser to pull them out. He then got a pair for me, but after that he left the drawer open. And from where I’m standing, I can just see enough of it to see that it’s his underwear drawer.

Again, not a good idea at all.

But I can’t help it. It’s just sitting there, wide open and waiting for a pair of curious eyes to come over and feast upon its contents. Besides, I’m not going to rifle through it or sniff a pair, especially now that I realize they’ll just smell like clean laundry - what’s the point? I just want to take a quick look and see what sort of stuff Carter wears.

Suddenly, I hear a buzzing noise coming from the bathroom and I tense up, worried that somehow Carter was reading my mind and came out to bust me. But it’s just his toothbrush. Which not only means that he’ll be occupied in there for another minute or two, but that I’ll have some kind of warning when he’s coming out. I’ll never have a better chance than now.

I move quietly across the room to the open dresser. Looking inside, it’s like heaven. Carter has all sort of cute, fun underwear. I see some rainbow striped boxer briefs, a few pairs of brightly colored boxers, just a few tight little pairs of briefs, and then a handful of sports stuff - compression shorts and what looks like a jock or two hiding down at the bottom.

The pair on the far left side of the drawer, however, would probably be the best. Light grey compression shorts, with an orange trim and waistband. They look small but stretchy, with thin fabric, so I bet they hug every nook, cranny, and bulge on Carter’s body. I try to picture what they would look like on Carter, but I stop myself after only a second, as it’s bringing me straight back to my original problem of getting turned on and creating an awkward situation.

I take a few steps away and succeed at least partially in clearing my mind before Carter emerges from the bathroom. He looks so cute in his plaid pajama pants and a green tank top. It gives me a great view of his smooth, strong arms, and even little peeks at his chest depending on how he turns or moves. Even dressed down to the most casual level, this boy is gorgeous.

We’re both back in Carter’s room and dressed for bed, so now what?

It’s funny, because this is only the second time we’ve ever really hung out together, and neither of us seem sure what to do. At Ko’s house, we have an easy routine we fall into any time I go over there. We don’t discuss our desires or make elaborate plans, we just do stuff.

Clearly Carter and I don’t quite have that same level of rapport with each other.

“So, uh,” Carter begins, “what do you want to do?”

I run through my head all the various sex acts and experimentation I’m dying to try with a boy like Carter, but nothing seems appropriate to suggest at this time.

“I dunno,” I finally reply shrugging, “what did we do last time?”

“You want to do chemistry homework?” Carter asks sarcastically.

I laugh. “No, like after that, obviously.” I think for a second. “I think we just watched a little TV, talked about school and stuff, played video games, and then…” I stop before I say what comes next, and the awkwardness is leaking out into what I’m sure is a fascinating facial expression. Last time I was over, we watched porn and jerked it together on the couch.

Carter fills in the blank for himself, because his face takes on an expression very similar to what I’m sure mine is. Eventually he shakes his heads and laughs.

“No way. Don’t even talk about jacking off right now. I had…” He bites his lower lip sexily as he tries to think of the words. “I had a rough night as far as that stuff goes, so I’m a little pent up right now, and I don’t think…”

He stops talking because my silent snicker has turned into a full blown laugh.

“Dude,” he says with as much seriousness as he can muster, “it’s not funny. I’m seriously pent up right now!”

“No,” I tell him, laughing even harder. “It’s not that. It’s just funny because that’s exactly what me and Ko call it.”

“What,” he asks, “pent up?”

I nod.

Carter sighs. “I’m glad I’m not the only one. I don’t want to start talking about Beth again and all that stuff, but tonight is just…” He looks down at his crotch, then back up at me, and then he shrugs.

“You’re definitely not the only one who gets pent up,” I reassure him. “I mean, we’re a bunch of dudes, right?”

Carter nods and we lapse into silence. Nothing else is said, but I feel like over the course of the next few seconds, we both come to a consensus. At this point, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

“Well?” I ask, gently testing the waters.

I hope he catches my drift, and I hope even more that he’s game.

“I’m down if you’re down,” he says shrugging innocently.

I nod, and Carter smiles his sexy, mischievous grin that I love so much before getting up and heading over to his computer. I wonder what he’s cooking up for us this time.

As he boots up some porn for us, I can feel the anticipation building. And by that, I mean that by the time Carter turns on the TV, I’m already doing a pretty good job of tenting my pants. For a second I wonder if I should try and hide it or something - I don’t want to seem too eager, after all - but when I look over at Carter I see that while one hand is operating the computer, the other is glued firmly to his crotch. He must be just as excited as I am.

The TV suddenly lights up with a young, amateur couple in the process of taking each other’s clothes off.

“Does this look ok to you?” Carter asks? “I was watching it the other day, but I uh…”

I laugh. “You didn’t make it to the end?” Happens to everybody.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“It looks good,” I reply.

Honestly, he could have put on the evening news and I would be cool with sitting next to him beating off. In truth he seems to have decent taste when it comes to porn. Nothing too trashy, and the guys have been hot in both movies he’s put on while I’ve been here.

“Cool,” he says, getting up from the computer and making his way over to the couch.

“Somebody’s ready for action,” he says snarkily as he approaches, looking down at the extremely obvious bulge in my lap.

I feel myself blush, but see an equally obvious lump in Carter’s as he passes in front of me. Maybe Ko has a point about these things - teenage boys just want to get hard and get off. I can’t say he’s wrong, at least not about me.

And then the unthinkable happens.

Instead of walking by me to the other end of the couch like last time, Carter stops the instant he passes me, turns to face the TV, and sits down right next to me. If my pants were a tent before, they’ve now become a circus big top.

The horniness and awesomeness of the situation wash over me as I start rubbing my straining erection through my pants. My eyes are on the movie, but I focus on the motion of Carter sitting next to me and doing the same. It feels fantastic, but I need more.

I undo the drawstring and pull down my pants, revealing my six inches of rock hard dick as it springs up into the air.

“Damn, dude,” Carter says as he starts undoing his own. He has a point. I probably look like I just ate a fistful of Viagra.

My eyes get huge as I suddenly realize what just happened. He was checking out my dick?

Emboldened by my realization, I don’t hesitate to peek over as Carter slides his pants down. In the light of the TV, I see the most beautiful, perfect cock flip up out of his waistband and point straight into the air. It’s the best look I’ve ever had at the thing, and it only leaves me wanting even more.

“You’re one to talk,” I respond.

He looks over, slightly embarrassed, and catches my eye for a second before looking back down at his own crotch. He smiles and shrugs. It’s definitely nothing to be ashamed of.

We both focus our attentions firmly on the task at hand, or at least I pretend to while basking in the closeness and sexuality of the mostly naked dreamboat jacking off next to me, and we stroke our dicks together. This is awesome.

It’s almost all I can do not to blow my load in about five seconds. I’m so revved up, and everything tonight has seamlessly fallen into place. And it’s a very sexy place.

Carter stops for a second to reposition himself on the couch. Sensing the sudden lack of motion on his side, I look over to see what he’s doing. He pushes his butt farther up the couch, and in doing so takes his hand off his rod for a second, giving me an unobstructed view. Again, I’m blown away by how perfectly touchable, kissable, suckable, and fuckable it looks. I’ve never seen anything like it.

I can’t take it anymore. It’s too much for me to handle. Maybe the blood flooding my dick right now is creating a shortage in my brain. Maybe listening to Carter’s breathing while he touches himself has intoxicated me to the point of no return. Maybe it’s the brief, electric contact when his thigh brushes against mine as he repositions himself. Maybe it’s the sweet, sweaty, sexy smell of two horny teenagers jacking off right next to each other.

Whatever it is that pushes me over the edge, I can no longer stop myself. I take my hand off of my own dick, reach over to my side, and put it on Carter’s.

The instant I make contact, the entire world freezes. I feel Carter’s body tense up, so I stop moving.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

Oh my god. He wants me to…

“Keep going, it feels good.”

Yes.

I slowly, lightly start sliding my hand up and down the length of Carter’s shaft, just barely touching it as I do. It feels a tiny bit bigger than mine, and I can tell the difference of his cut head when my hand passes over it. Physically, it’s similar to my own, but I feel like it’s something so incredibly new and exciting.

As I reach his engorged head, I sweep my fingers over it especially, giving it a light pull. Carter moans lightly and bucks his hips upward ever so slightly. He’s loving it. His hand moves slowly across to rest on my thigh, and he squeezes gently, as though to tell me not to stop. He shouldn’t be worried about that - I have no intention of doing so.

I tighten my grip and move back and forth from tip to base, over and over. My left hand absentmindedly plays with myself, but all my focus is on the perfect, rock hard dick in my other hand. This is like heaven.

As I build to a steady rhythm, Carter starts moving his hips in time with the motion. It’s subtle, but sexy as hell having him press upward into my fist every time I reach the base, almost like he’s trying to fuck my hand. I meet him with more force and pressure and his breathing gets louder.

I pump his dick again and again, relishing the smooth, hot feeling of having another boy’s hard penis in my hand. It’s absolutely amazing, and I love having so much control over Carter, making him feel so good. As much as I want to do this forever, however, I want to make him cum.

Sensing he’s getting close, I speed up and take over. Working at about double the speed and intensity, he relaxes back into the couch and starts breathing harder. His breaths become moans, and I hear a growl building in the back of his throat as I feel his dick get harder. Yes. Give it to me.

My own dick starts tingling with pleasure as Carter suddenly bucks wildly into my hand. As I mutually fly over the edge, his cock explodes stream after stream of hot, sticky cum all over my hand and his stomach.

Holy shit. That was amazing.

The next few minutes are like heaven. It’s just the two of us sitting on the couch, slowly regaining our breath and composure. I glance over at Carter, and seeing that his eyes are closed, it lets me take a closer look at him. His smooth, perfect chest is covered with his cum, which is slowly dripping from just below his neck down to his waist. It runs across his abs and down to his gorgeous cock, which is slowly shrinking and receding with each beat of his pulse.

I could spend the next hundred years staring at that sight and never get enough. It’s not just his hot body. It’s not just the obvious signs of his sexual pleasure and orgasm. It’s the fact that I did it to him. It’s because of me that he’s spent and breathing hard. I did that to him. I made him cum.

Like all good things, the moment eventually has to end. Carter gets up to wipe himself off with an old shirt, and he tosses me a towel to do the same. Once we’re cleaned up, he turns to me.

“Ready for bed?” he asks.

I can’t help but smile at the thought. We just came together, and now we’re headed to bed. This night couldn’t get any better.

“Yeah,” I reply.

When I first came over, I had thought it might be weird to share a bed, or that maybe I would have to guess whether Carter wanted me on the couch or sleeping with him. But at this point, it’s not even a question. We’re sharing a bed, and my certainty in that fact feels as good as anything that’s happened tonight.

Carter and I both settle down in bed and he turns off the light. We aren’t touching, but there’s an unmistakable feeling of closeness between the two of us. Sure, I have all my feelings for Carter, and he has… whatever it is that he feels for me. A friend? A confidant? Something a tiny bit more? It doesn’t even matter. Because right this second, I feel closer to him than I’ve ever felt, and it feels really, really good.

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