Gangbang Me, Baby!

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Gangbang Me, Baby!

The city slept under a blanket of deep indigo, its towering skyline a silent testament to the day's end. A cool, gentle breeze whispered through the nearly empty streets, carrying the distant, rhythmic hum of a lone night bus. High above, the faint, silvery light of a crescent moon cast long, dancing shadows that played upon the pavement. From a small, warmly lit apartment window, the soft glow of a lamp painted a solitary square of gold onto the sidewalk below. Inside, the only sounds were the quiet ticking of an antique clock and the occasional rustle of a turned page. The air was thick with the comforting scent of old books and freshly brewed herbal tea, a sanctuary from the world outside. A single figure moved with a slow, contemplative grace, pausing to gaze at the tranquil, sleeping metropolis. In that profound stillness, one could almost hear the city itself breathing, a slow and steady exhalation after the day's frantic energy. It was a moment of perfect, peaceful solitude, a private world suspended in time. This quiet harmony was the night's truest and most valuable offering.

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