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Summary
At some point your rutting slowed to a stand still, as you bask in the bloated shame in your gut. The taste reminds you of beer, just a little. You’re getting drunk off urine. Kiss that sobriety goodbye, Harry-baby, you’re fucked in the head.
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In which Harry and Kim are in a fetish-centric relationship, and they both want more. Harry drinks piss about it.
