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This is a question Sexual fetishes

Rubber wetsuits. Knee-high boots. Nuclear-powered clockwork cucumbers. Dressing up as Pingu whilst reading out loud from the works of Dan Brown. What floats your boat? Or what fetishes have you encountered? Suggestion via crackhouseceilidhband.

(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 13:25)
Pages: Latest, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Don't judge me....

www.gungegirls.com (probably nsfw)

...look, I don't know why, but that kind of thing just does it for me. Girls covered head to to in dessert/slime/gunge while dressed all nice, like. It used to result in me being rather uncomfortable when watching either Fun House or Noels House Party.

Got to be dressed up a looking smart though, and there has to be lots of stuff, like custard, chocolate, cake batter in various colours. Bliss. Then just have a right laugh covering each other in it, going from prim and proper to a mixed up, slithery mess. And none of that 'licking it off' bollocks, this is just being messy for the sake of being messy.

It's fun, which is the main thing. You can't look serious when doing it. Sex is too serious these days, so I find this most agreeable.

Still, it's a right giggle and having lived out the dream with a few girls over the years I can honestly say I wouldn't trade it for anything else.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 14:54, 2 replies)
Just a phase
I like to think I’m a perfectly normal, well balanced human beign in the sex department. Not very kinky, just pretty damn normal insert-and-spurt kind of guy. But I wasn’t always like this. I think I ironed out all the kinks during the mastabatory opus also known as my early teenage years. Back then life was one big adventure centred round my cock and what I could make it do, and what it could do for me. Here’s a few of the more memorable experiments:-

On one of the many Saturday mornings I was left alone in the house while my parents fucked off to Tescos to do the food shopping, I discovered something pretty damn amazing. When I should’ve been sat in front of Number 73 watching some butch lesbo in dungarees talke to Gaz Top about some inane load of old monkeyspunk, I was busy exploring. And this is when I discovered that the inside of the freezer was cold... (OK, not the brightest kid, I admit it). First off I tried t-bagging my balls in a bowl of icewater. Hmmmm. Nice. Sort of made them shoot back up into my body as if they’d been hit by a mallet, but in a pleasurable kind of way. Then I broke off a bit of ice and rubbed it over my bell end and trapped a bit under my foreskin. Hmmmm. Also quite nice... I finished off by straddling the bowl of ice water, pulling the pud, and stopping occasionally to jam a bit of crushed up ice down my japs eye. It was absolutely fucking INCREDIBLE! And when I shot my load it came out the consistency of frozen yogurt, which lets face it, is a fucking bonus.

For your average teenage wank king, the common or garden shed is a veritable cornucopia of delights. Holding your cock against the lawnmower handle and reving the fucker up was a particular favorite. Sprayed enough cum over that appliance I’m suprised it didn’t get pregnant. But this favoured hobby of mine stopped suddenly when l I realised my dad’s sweaty palms had been where my pulsing spam dagger was oozing... put me off bigtime, that little did. So I moved onto the toolbox. Thats where I discovered the glue. Not the really hardcore stuff, but the wood glue. It looks like spunk, I reasoned, so it might look pretty good slopping round my cock. And it was. An amazing way to danger-wank. The trick is to toss off before the glue solidifies so much that you can’t actually move your hand anymore. Then, when you’ve kissed the sky and released a few batallions of your white-helmeted warriors, you have to rush back into the house and wash the gloop off before your cock’s encased forever Han Solo in carbonite style. Its exciting. Its exhilirating. Its the dogs bollocks. However, if your dad ever changes to a more expensive brand of all purpose glue when he discovers his supplies have mysteriously disappeared you’ve got to be very cautious. This is how you can end up loosing your pubes and a fair bit of cock, finger, and palm skin.

OK, this is a bit of a no go area, but ahhh, fuck it. I spent a few confusing wankathons examining the contents of my sisters knicker drawer. It was wrong, it was disgusting, but that just made it feel so much better. And when I found a packet of tampons I hate to admit, I did actually have a primo uber-wank over the rather sexy instrucional diagrams. (Took me a good few years after that to find out what the fuck these little cottony things were for – I thought it was some kind of internal padding to help keep the average vag nice and roomy for your average cock)...

My favorite wank accessory area. After a brief sojurn to the kitchen drawers (don’t whatever the fuck you do put a cocktail stick down your japs eye – hurts like fuck and only the most painful piss of your entire fucking life will get the fucker back out again), I ended up at the fridge. Fucking food was my passion. Earned me my childhood knickname of Mr Kipling, this did. And I can testify – he does indeed make exceedingly good cakes... But after I’d fucked my way through the fresh produce and crisper drawer, I realised I was getting bored. I had to try something new. Something daring. Something a little different....

All I can say is, if you’re going to stick a vegetable up your arse try something durable and strong. Carrots snap off and tend to get stuck. Five fucking days... FIVE FUCKING DAYS of terrible, stomach churning constipation and excessive laxative-taking later and I managed to uncork myself and gave birth to a sloppy shit the size of the Titanic... Not a good idea.... Not good at all...

But, like I say, I’m pretty normal now...
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 14:37, 6 replies)
That sounds a bit vanilla, I know, but bear with me. I'm what some people call a naturist (I don't do labels, and there are lots of things that some people who DO call themselves naturists seem to like and believe which I don't), in that I like to be naked a lot, specially when the weather is good, and especially on the beach.

Now, I'll admit that I think most people look better naked than they do in swimsuits, but being surrounded by naked people is not really a turn-on, it's just nice, freeing and relaxing. I certainly don't wander around with the raging horn, staring at tits.

There is one thing, however, which really does it for me, and that's when someone (and for me, it needs to be a woman) is not quite sure whether to take their clothes off, and has to screw up their courage to take the plunge. That moment of hesitation, the slight feelings of panic and unreality that are going on,and the fantastic, liberating feeling of freedom that I know they're about to experience. This will get to me whether it's on the beach, or when skinny dipping or strip poker happen at a party, or when people are daring each other on Big Brother - wherever, really. For it to really work, I need to see expression of liberation and freedom on their face - if I've watched someone get undressed and then they still look apprehensive and nervy afterwards, I feel a bit guilty and voyeuristic. The vast majority of people don't though, they just get this "wow, so the world didn't end! And now I'm naked! And it feels GREAT!" look on their faces. Given that I'm on a very crowded train, and will be for another 90 mins, I'd better think about something else!
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 14:31, 2 replies)
It's not funny, just unusual.
I like older guys. Fair enough i hear you say? I'm 21 and we're talking minimum age of 30, max probably about 60. Preferably with grey hair. And a beard. I bloody LOVE beards. And body hair - we're talking bear type coverage, back and all. And i prefer a smaller penis given the choice, so no big dicks please and thank you.

I guess the body hair is the main thing, just feels so good and makes me go all unnecessary....ahh...

I know he's gay, but providing Stephen Fry is hairy and doesn't have a massive cock(never really checked, prob something lurking on the net somewhere), i reckon he would be my ideal guy. If he were straight.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 14:18, 4 replies)
I think somone in the Scottish forestry commission has a thing for exhibitionism

This photo was taken earlier today from the Northbound carriageway of the M74 near Abington (junction of the A702, about 40 miles from Edinburgh). I swear to god I haven't photoshopped it. The only alteration I have made is to crop it smaller. Look it up on google maps if you want more proof.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 13:04, 12 replies)
I was with a young lady this one time...
And during the frantic, hot, sweaty sex, she asked me to spank her as she was into that kinda thing...so I did for a bit (it's not really my thing), with her saying "Harder...HARDER!".

Suddenly I remembered something an ex had left at mine, so excused myself, and went running off to get it...

And so it was when I came back to find her still laid out on the bed, looking very, very sexy with her bum pointed up at me (standing there with a big grin and bobbing hardon), with my hand behind my back...

"What have you got?" she asked with a semi smile which rapidly froze then vanished as I produced a riding crop...

"You fucking weirdo!" she spat at me as she scrabbled for her clothes.

(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 12:05, 1 reply)
The Yeti of Yorkshire and a Spot of Impromptu Kickboxing
The groundwork required for the D-Day landings would’ve been the equivalent of popping out to the shops to pick up a packet of hobnobs in comparison to the preparatory work I undertook to try and get inside Lynn’s knickers. This operation was a thing of beauty, an amazing project that required all my skill and cunning. So, on account of having the skill and cunning of a dead woodlouse, it took me a very, very, very long time to get anywhere near having a crack at Lynn’s crack.

Lynn was a girl I worked with. Head of marketing at a wanky new age sales company I worked for back in 2002. She was a few years older than me, so incredibly beautiful is she were to die on the spot her corpse could’ve been embalmed and put on display in the National Gallery as a national treasure that people would’ve queued round the block to see, and she was also incredibly intelligent and sharper than a samuri’s sword. Of course, this meant I didn’t stand a fucking chance. At the time my normal fanny fodder usually comprised of pissed birds in polyester mix tight dresses who I’d pick up in nightclubs after plying them with redbull and vodka for a couple of hours. But Lynn was completely different. She was out of my league. And this just made me even more horny for her.

I won’t bore you with the details, lets just say that eventually after about six months of pretending to be a nice, decent, normal person with a sparkling personality in front of Lynn, I eventually managed to maneuver her into a one-on-one social situation in the little poncy bar down the road from the office where we worked. I was Patten and she was the beech head on Omaha. All I had to do now was break down her defences. And then fuck her.

“Redbull and vodka, Lynn?” I asked coyly. Lynn said no, but she did have a pint of real ale. Fuck me, I could feel myself falling in love with her – or I was getting a stiffy, which pretty much adds up to the same thing in my book. Fast forward a few hours, I’ve actually managed to trick Lynn into taking me back to her place. Things are looking up. I’m charming, I’m urbane, I’m trying my hardest not to be the real me because I realise this house of cards I’ve created will come tumbling down and I’ll have a boot up my arse and a oneway ticket to wanking alone in my bedsit before I could blink. We sit on the sofa. Unfortuantely Lynn’s not that pissed. She goes and grabs a few cans of beer and a couple of tall glasses and asks me what turns me on. “Intelligence, that really does it for me,” I lie. Give me a dirty girl with a pulse and I’m hard so fast there’s a real danger I might faint.

Lynn then goes on to tell me what turns her on. Whips, chains, bondage. Being held down... Fuck me... I really was into deep, but – hey – I’d be willing to give it a go. I was getting incredibly excited. I started wishing I could somehow get her to drink about six redbull and vodkas without her noticing. But while I’m contemplating this, Lynn says: “But what really turns me off, I mean really, is hairy men. Yuk. I like my men smooth. The smoother the better. Any hair and its just horrible.” And then my world fell apart. Fuck. Now, I’m not exactly a yeti, but – like most Italians (including the women) - I do have a fair bit of chest hair. Lynn then went on to explain all the things she likes to do in bed. In great detail. It was like she was describing a sexy version of Saw, and I wanted in in a big way. There was only one stumbling block. MY FUCKING BODY HAIR... One sight of that and she’d probably spew.

I excused myself and went to the bogs. I stood in front of the mirror, arms braced on the sink, thinking desperately. Then it hit me. It was so fucking SIMPLE!!! I rummaged round Lynn’s cabinets – got slightly sidetracked when I found her medication and had a little look at all the labels; evidently she had bowl troubles of some sort... not suprising, the sort of stuff she gets up to in the bedroom with a knob of butter and a knob. Then I find it. A bic razor. One of the cheapo orange ones the ladies seem to prefer using on their hairy bits. Superman-style, I undo the buttons on my shirt, and then I get to work on my chest fur. And it fucking kills. Razor burn? Was like having napalm poured onto my tits. I look round for some shaving cream or foam – fuck all. So I make do with a bit of soap lather. Still, it burns like fuck and my chest looks like Freddie Kruger’s had an epileptic fit between my nipples. Its so fucking painful I can hardly button the shirt back up afterwards.

In intense pain I clean up the random hair that seems to have gotten everywhere, replace the razor, and go back to the living room. The perfect crime. We sit for a bit longer. Have another drink. I glance down and am painfully – and I mean PAINFULLY – aware of the little spots of blood blotting onto the cotton of my shirt. I can hardly fucking move, its so fucking painful. The thought of actually having sex is just too fucking much; they way I was, I’d have stuggled to make a cup of fucking tea.

“Do you wanna, you know...” says Lynn, and she rolls her eyes upwards, towards the bedroom. And at the same time she reaches forward and gently strokes my chest-

“OOOOWWWWWW !!! FOR FUCKS SAKE !!!” I jump back in a shower of beer and, in doing so, managed to catch Lynn plumb under the chin with my raised foot, sending her sprawling backwards and off the sofa... “Errrr.... Lynn???”

Needless to say, I didn’t get my jollies that night. And needless to say I didn’t get to expereince dirty bondage sex with the hottest woman I’d seen in the whole of Yorkshire. Fetishes, turn ons and turn offs... each to their own I suppose. Just one bit of advice – only do something if you’re comfortable with it. Don’t do anything that hurts just to make someone fuck you unless you’re really into it. And – for Christs sake – don’t kick your date in the fucking face. That’s a complete non-fucking-starter...
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 11:41, 5 replies)
Astatine's dog collar story has reminded me
of something that happened to me many years ago.

Was going out with a bloke who was a bit rough for my liking (there's only so much of that that I feel is comfortable for me, and he went beyond it, but I was young, dumb and often full of his cum, so, there you go). Anyway, one of his kinks was that he used to like to tie me to the bed. Handcuffs, scarves, belts, anything handy would do as long as it secured me so I couldn't get away. One day the usual suspects had been utilised and found wanting so he nipped downstairs and got the collars and leads of the family dogs, and used those.

Fast forward wavy lines to about a week later. We're in the pub one Sunday afternoon having a few drinks at a table, it's busy but not too mad and Sky Sports is on. His mum's behind the bar - she and his dad manage the place and pretty much everyone there at the time know us both.
The phone rings, she goes to answer it.
"Oi, Ratbag," she calls to my bf over the noise.
"What ?" says he.
"Yer dad wants to know where the dog leads are, he wants to take Ben and Star for a walk," she bawls.
Muffled embarrassment from my bf.
"What did you say ?" she calls.
He goes over to the bar and leans across the people waiting to be served.
"What ?" she bellows, as the tv is playing some football match full pelt and she can't hear him.
He sighs.
"I said 'THEY'RE LOOPED AROUND MY BED POSTS' !!!" shouts he.
Instant silence in the pub as all eyes swivel our way, even the fucking football commentator shut up, I swear. I want to crawl under the table and die.

They never let us forget it.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 11:38, Reply)
Women who wear nothing except a football shirt
I don't even like football
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 11:35, 2 replies)
Eat Me
You know the bit in Alice in Wonderland, when Alice grows and fills the house? I remember watching that when I was about 7, and getting 'strange' feelings. I still have a bit of a thing for pretty girls in white knee-high stocking and a blue and white dress.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 11:33, 1 reply)
Probably shouldn't tell all here cos at least one lurker here knows me very well IRL. lol.

My fiance is instantly turned on by discussion of our wedding plans. I found this bemusing to begin with, as most men I've known run, not walk, in the other direction when discuss of even someone else's nuptials is hinted at, but now I find it meltingly lovely. He wants to marry me so much that he gets an instant hard on. This is amazing and endearing, and not to mention sexy, to me. Some of the best sexytime we've ever had has included him asking me over and over "Will you marry me ?"
However the rest best sexytime we've ever had has involved him slamming me up against a wall (within reason, he knows I'm littler than him) and saying such romantic whisperings as "Suck it you bitch" and "Fuck me, you dirty sleaze" which is guaranteed to have me scrabbling out of my knickers in an instant - or indeed leave 'em on, I don't care.

My perfect man ? Oooh, yes.

I used to have a bf who liked to cover me in chocolate spread and lick it off - boring imho, and it left me cold.

Neither of us have any fetishes as such, as it's been pointed out - a fetish is a sexual attraction or inclusion of an object which forms that arousal, a liking for good hard shags would be a kink. But I do like well fitted black jeans on a man. Not sure why.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 11:20, 2 replies)
anal sex
Pornstars seems to love getting buttfucked into the next century.

What about the real women here?
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 10:57, 9 replies)
A woman sitting on my face for oral...
Absolutely love it - guaranteed to get mini-snee up to attention in no time...

But this one time, the other half (not sure I've mentioned the Mad Scottish Psycho Bitch™ here)...she wriggled up the bed and settled herself onto my willing mouth - and pissed in it!

You ever seen a Scottish woman fly? I certainly did that day...
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 10:43, Reply)
I have a thing for beards. I bloody love them. Men suit beards. Also hairiness, t-shirts, and really fit arses make my tongue itch. Armpits too. Spanking. I could go on. Biceps.

I've tried a number of things in my time - ws, master and slave, bondage, etc.

But nothing beats a good hard shag. Throw me up against a wall and I'm yours.

Length? It's the girth you should worry about.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 10:38, 5 replies)
Boner time
Girls in shorts get me off no end.

And when you can see their bra through their plain white tank tops.

Also when you can see their ankles when they're only wearing those plimsoll shoes.

And definitely none of the kids in my P.E class
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 10:27, 5 replies)
I have the weirdest fetish
Pretty Women.

I know it's gross but what can I do.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 10:02, 4 replies)
Bit boring really...
But I do like to be bitten...

And the day I got my first tattoo, the tattooist kept asking was I sure it was my first as I wasn't flinching or doing the usual newbie stuff. She then pointed at my chest which was covered in bites from a particularly good bit of sexytime the night before and remarked "Of course, if you can take that..."


Length? it's about 6" long on my arm (Spurs badge - yes, I have a 6" cock on my arm...)
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 9:24, 5 replies)
I was quite sporty at school
Those of you who read these pages regularly may recall my earlier tales of the inter-tutor football and my subsequent dalliance with one of the players.

Following on from mine and Nicola's break up, I made a rather startling discovery. It wasn't her barely pubescent downy minge that got me going, it was the pain and humiliation I had felt every time I made my way down to the bike sheds to watch the pale buttocks of yet another of my school mates slamming against her while she moaned and gurned like a porn star having an epileptic fit.

I only discovered this the following week when I handed in my physics homework and was called up to the front by Mrs Turner. I remember her wearing a plain black shift dress that did nothing to flatter her flabby arse as it spilled over the sides of the wooden stool she was perched upon. I managed to tear my eyes away to look at the page of writing she was pointing at.

"Mr thegeordie, this is apalling!" Her voice boomed out across the suddenly quite room. I could feel the eyes of all my classmates boring into me and my cheeks started to redden. "Look! Geordieboys gonna cry!" piped up Jonny Deacon. I could tell he was just jealous as he'd never got a blowie off Nicola, but that didn't really make me feel much better at the time.

"Did you even read the questions?" Mrs Turners eyes flashed with anger "You clearly have no grasp of this subject at all. You'll stay behind today and redo this homework!"

The rest of the class started to giggle, I glanced up to see Jody Mulfinge whispering to Ellen Shrimpton while waving her little finger in the air. Behind them Richard Hawkes was making a vigorous "wanker" gesture with his right hand. A roaring sound was building up in my ears, and, in a surprise to me, a rush of blood appeared to be heading to my crotch. I tried to grab my exercise book, hoping to get back to my seat before anyone noticed what was happening in my groin, but Mrs Turner misinterpreted my clumsy lunge and flinched away, holding my book, causing me to overbalance.

With a horrific feeling of slow motion I toppled forward, my outstretched hands connecting perfectly with those monstrous fleshy orbs which, while they would have orginally sat just below her armpits, now rested closer to her navel. In a moment my attempt to hide my swelling groin had descended into a sub "Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'em" farce. My now throbbing genitals decided to release themselves through the open fly of my boxers and strained against the thin fabric of my regulation issue black school trousers.

Mrs Turner yelped like a kicked puppy and sprawled backwards off her stool, as she crashed onto the floor, legs akimbo, her dress rode up to reveal a faded grey thong. Thick clumps of black hair were clearly visible around the front of the decaying lingerie before it was swallowed up by the stretch mark and cellulite ridden skin of her posterior.

I didn't know what was happening in my kecks but a sudden violent spasm of my crotch followed by a hot damp sensation on the front of my thighs soon told me I had just spontaneously shot my load in front of the whole class. I stood there, my face burning, eyes fixed on Mrs Turners face, who in turn was staring in horror at the spreading wet patch from the front of my trousers.

A guffaw of near hysterical laughter came from the back of the class "Geordie boys just blown his load in his pants!" Shouted Jonny Deacon with near ecstatic glee. "Look at 'im, what a fucking twat!". With that he launched a bunsen burner at me. It hit me right on the cock.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 8:31, 5 replies)
My fetish involves a rubber dinghy filled with baby oil some mature ladies and gents sex toys and a fair bit of fresh fruit, well a man can dream???
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 8:17, Reply)
A brave brave man
I love men in kilts. It does have to be past the knee, and if it can be a little low slung on the hip, I am just in heaven. The ease of access, the possibility of a strong breeze:

Marilyn Monroe moment

Had a date with a lovely man who turned up in his kilt, riding a motorbike. Length? You wouldn't have known it was winter.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 7:04, 12 replies)
I am a hairy dude
Well, except I am balding. And thanksfully, my back was spared, although as I get older, it seems the crops are rotating.

Anyway, I found that Chinese girls are fascinated by my hairy chest and belly. They like to run their fingers through it.

Also, I am of average length, but apparently that's bigger than most Chinese men. I'm not sure about other Asian men, but after dating Chinese women who have commented on size (one shocked), I now have a perfectly different perception when I hear the phrase, "I'm big in Japan."
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 6:20, 2 replies)
I am a...
Infantilist! Google it if you don't know what it is

I recently found out I'm quite submissive and the humiliation turns me on like nothing else!!!

Just want to make it clear it has nothing to do with children... Just, for me at least, wanting to be controlled, taken care of and being generally submissive
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 1:20, 3 replies)
just to wet some appetites
Hot pants and knee boots are all the rage in Japan this winter, certainly makes the morning commute easier.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 0:46, 3 replies)
just remembered
I didn't think there was anything, but a lady in her underwear, wearing one of my shirts (white), sweet Jesus, YES!
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 0:42, Reply)
I'm a sub, and get turned on by all manner of things; bondage, sensory deprivation, spanking, group play, hot wax, humiliation, ice, flogging, paddling....

but one image that turns me to jelly in seconds is the line of hair that goes from a man's belly button and disappears into his trousers. I saw a teacher take off his jumper when I was about 10, and the t-shirt he was wearing rode up to reveal his taut stomach, and the line of fluff... oh my! I'm loving this QOTW !!
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 0:22, 4 replies)
Daisy Dukes
Must be one of those "formative years" influences but a girl in very short denim makes me barely able to walk with trouser tenting.
(, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 0:10, Reply)
Not shamed, just embarassed
Doing my 3-times-a-century cleaning when I noticed I have 50 dvds, 20 old videos, and 200 old magazines of women's wrestling and bodybuilding. I have to clean up more often.
(, Sun 25 Oct 2009, 23:16, Reply)
A quick question
As has been touched upon by a few of our, er, esteemed colleagues, there seem to be a number of women who have something of a thing for a man in a suit.
Now I suspect that what they mean is they have a thing for an attractive man in a suit but that's not what I'm curious about, so apologies for my digressing.

What I'm wondering about is whether the whole smartly-dressed thing covers kilts as well.
(, Sun 25 Oct 2009, 23:15, 11 replies)
At a fancy dress party, I once had sex with my boyfriend on an office chair. I was dressed as a stripper. He was dressed as Jesus. I'm not sure whether it's wrong that I found that incredibly hot.

Also, if you ever get the chance to see a man with a sizeable erection ineffectually hidden by a home made Jesus robe, well, it's pretty darn special.
(, Sun 25 Oct 2009, 22:45, 1 reply)

This question is now closed.

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