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I stalled for time to come up with a cover story. I even told James about it; his advice was, "oh, you're screwed." Why would I possibly have condoms in my closet for anything other than their intended purpose? How teen hardcore could I weasel out teen hardcore of this one? I then thought of my friend Lonnie. My mother hated Lonnie, found him a bad influence. She was convinced he was out drinking and drugging it up, trying to lure her son into a life of crime. Anytime I brought up his name, she cringed. Yep, Lonnie teen hardcore would do. My mother was waiting in the driveway when I pulled in. She was holding the box of Trojans in her hand. "What is THIS?!!!" In retrospect, my mother probably wishes she had just complimented me on being safe and careful. But I was her oldest child, and she clearly wasn't ready for her oldest child to be having sex.
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