An Infinity of Family Love
Copyright© 2025 by MrCurrie
Chapter 1
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Dave is a fortunate man. Follow his journey with him through a lifetime of love, challenges, and enduring family bonds.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Mother Son Daughter Pregnancy
Although it was Friday, normally a day to celebrate the end of the week, the dark and gloomy sky dampened my spirits. It was summer in the Midwest in 1980, and as such, a storm could roll in without warning, most often conjured up from a hot and humid day. As I peered out of my eleventh-grade English class, I nervously fidgeted in my seat, watching the sky darken. It was the last period of the day, and time was running out for me to make it home before encountering the wrath of the incoming storm. At the bell, I stuffed my books in my backpack and dashed for the exit, quickly escaping out the side door to where my bike was chained up.
A drizzle clung to the air like static, ominously warning me of things to come. I jumped on my trusty trail bike and pedaled as if I were in a race. Because I was. Only there were no other competitors. Just me and the storm. A mile closer to home, the clouds rolled by quickly, the sky in turmoil as the sprinkles turned to a light rain. Each pedal stroke seemed to summon heavier drops, until the sky opened up and let loose a downpour so fierce it felt personal.
Rain streaked down my face, blurring my vision as the wind hurled sheets of water against me. By the time I rolled up to our house, I was drenched to the bone. My shoes squished, my saturated clothes clung to me, and my socks were soaked as I entered the front hallway, finally finding relief from the raging storm.
My mom, Melissa, hearing the door close, emerged from the kitchen and ordered, “Hold it right there, Dave. Let me grab a towel before tracking water through the whole house.”
“Sure, Mom,” I answered, dropping my backpack. I peeled off my jacket before tugging off my shoes and socks. The cold water clinging to me took its toll as my body shivered from the chill.
Mom rushed to my rescue, a large bath towel in hand. While she dried my hair, she ordered, “Take off your shirt, dear. You’re going to catch a death of cold.”
Once my soaked shirt hit the floor, I wrapped my arms around my trembling body, attempting to warm myself. Mom rubbed my torso with the towel and, with parental authority, ordered, “Pants, too. You sure caught the brunt of the storm.”
“Mom, I don’t want to take my jeans off in front of you,” I argued.
“Nonsense,” she rebutted. “I’ve seen your legs before. You’re wearing underwear, aren’t you? Now get them off so we can dry you off.”
I was too cold to protest. I unbuckled myself and peeled off the heavy pants, clinging to my legs. Once removed, she quickly ran the towel along my legs, drying me off with practiced strokes. Leading me to the couch, she set me down and nestled in next to me. Wrapping her arm around my shoulders, she pulled me tight. Then she draped an afghan on top of us, and I immediately felt the warmth returning to my body.
When my teeth finally ceased chattering, Mom smiled and remarked, “There, that’s better now, isn’t it? Mommy knows how to take care of her boy.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’ve always looked out after me,” I uttered. Thankfully, the cold water had shrunk my cock so there wasn’t an embarrassing bulge. Ever since my pubic hair began sprouting, my outlook on girls had changed. Mom was no different. Catching fleeting glances of her long, bare legs when she paraded around the house and her breasts teasingly bouncing when she walked resulted in more than one erection.
Her soft hand slid upward, cupped the side of my head, and guided it into the hollow of her neck. My cheeks, still flushed from the storm, pressed against the warm, smooth flesh of her neck, while my arm was melded into the side of her breast. Even with her bra and dress fabric between us, the closeness of her caused a stirring in my prick. My body relaxed completely, and I wouldn’t have minded spending the entire evening cuddling with her.
Her long, slim fingers glided through my hair and massaged my scalp, lulling me into a trance. When I was about to drift off, a soft tremble coursed through her body. It was faint at first, turning into an unsteady, aching rhythm. I lifted my head and saw them, a few quiet tears sliding down her cheeks.
Her large, brown eyes radiated warmth, yet a hint of fear lingered underneath.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” I asked, pulling her out of the depths of her thoughts.
Her eyes locked with mine, holding my gaze, as she replied, “I was just remembering all the times we’d snuggle together when I was raising you. The realization of it coming to an end just hit me.”
“Jeez, Mom. I’m only sixteen. You’re not kicking me out already, are you?” I teased.
She giggled, her smile instantly warming my heart. “No, you’re welcome here until you decide differently. Time just seems to be flying by so fast.”
Her laughter faded, her expression returning to a moment of reflection. She slid out from under the afghan and rose. On her way to the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, “Take your shower and put on your sweats. I’m starting on fixing some pork chops and vegetables.”
I rose and wrapped the towel around my waist, concealing my bulge, and made my way to my room. I jerked off a load while in the shower, reliving the intimate contact with my beautiful mother.
When I joined her in the kitchen, I noticed only two settings, which had been the norm for the last few months. Nodding toward Dad’s spot, I asked, “Late night at the office again?”
She grimaced and replied, “Something like that. We’ll talk after we finish.”
Her expression portrayed a mixture of anxiety and apprehension. I knew there was more to it, and it pained me to see her in such a state of despondency. I loved it when Dad worked late, giving me time alone with Mom. I know it was immature, but I was always jealous when Dad was present, as if he was taking Mom’s attention away from me.
Without fear of him catching me, it was easier to gaze at Mom while she ate, and our conversations were always more lively without him. Mom’s natural beauty and flawless, smooth skin gave her an appearance much younger than her thirty-seven years. Her rich brunette hair, softly styled in a bob with bangs brushing just above her eyes, perfectly framed her sweet, expressive face. When she smiled, her full lips parted to reveal her sparkling, pearly white teeth. It was an irresistible sight that could melt the coldest of hearts, and she caught me in her spell quite often.
At times, she’d catch me gawking at her, but she never admonished me, enveloping me in her smile.
After we’d cleaned up, Mom motioned me to sit at the table again and sat across from me. She sighed and said, “There’s no easy way to break this to you, but your father and I are divorcing.”
She stared at me, gauging my reaction, and it took all my willpower not to grin widely. It was a dream come true, Mom would be mine alone. When she noticed me deep in thought, she tested the waters and asked, “Are you okay, Dave? Do you want to talk about it? What are your thoughts?”
“So, all the late nights and so-called events on the weekend were him shacking up with his girlfriend?” I asked, using air quotes.
Her answer was a slow nod, averting my gaze. A slight sign of a smile appeared, belying any regret she may have had.
“It mustn’t have come as a surprise to you. You don’t seem too broken up by it.” I noted,
“It’s actually a relief to finally drop the facade. We’ve drifted apart for the last several years, and we haven’t been intimate for nearly a year, about the time he started the affair,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing with the vulnerability of revealing her celibacy.
My heart fluttered, and a spark of excitement shot through me upon hearing her confess about the absence of sex in her life. I was the only man in her life now, the only competition gone for good. I felt the warmth flow into my face as I blushed, my mom staring at me, as if she could read my thoughts of inappropriateness.
“Why didn’t you divorce him when you first discovered his affair?” I asked, changing the focus.
“You,” she said. “I couldn’t have supported you with my income and the outstanding bills. Since then, I’ve convinced him to pay off our debts, including the mortgage. I’ve also received a raise and have been positioning myself toward becoming more independent.”
She paused, her eyes filled with mist as she continued, “He would have taken you away from me. It was selfish of me, but I didn’t want to lose you.”
Her hand reached across the table and held mine, gently squeezing. She softly murmured, “I’m sorry, sweetie.”
“Don’t be, Mom,” I said. “It hasn’t really been that much different for me. He’s never been interested in what I do, and if by waiting, you become more financially secure, then it’s a good thing. I can do some odd jobs for people to help support us.”
Her wide smile and her hand squeezing mine warmed my heart. I wondered if offering to help with our income or the subtle hint that I’d remain with her was what pleased her. I hoped for the latter.
“We should be fine for money,” she said, confirming my assertion. “He’s coming over tomorrow at four to finalize everything. I don’t expect the process to drag out as we’re both in agreement to end it. Although he doesn’t love me, he’s sworn to treat me fairly. Since you’ll be part of the process, I’ll need you to be present.”
“No problem, Mom,” I replied. “The sooner we settle this, the better.”
While I sat at the kitchen table waiting for Dad to arrive, Mom entered the room, my jaw nearly hitting the floor. She wore a floral sundress, the soft fabric hugging her frame, its plunging neckline displaying her deep cleavage. Her hair was perfectly styled, her light makeup accentuating her alluring features.
Catching me staring, she twirled, the hem of the dress lifting slightly, teasing a view of her long, shapely legs. “Well?” she asked, her brow raised as if hopeful for approval. “I picked it up a few days ago. What do you think?”
My gaze drank in her curvaceous figure and with a shaky voice, asked, “Are you trying to get back together with him, Mom? You look unbelievable.”
She blushed and replied, “Not at all. It’s a day I’ve been looking forward to for a long time. I thought it’d be nice to dress up for it.”
Before we could continue, the doorbell announced Dad’s arrival. He avoided my gaze, his expression betraying the shame of a year-long affair. Glancing at Mom, he did a double-take, impressed with her look as much as I was. I wondered if he was having regrets.
“You look nice, Melissa. Hi son,” he greeted us. It irked me that he always called me son, rather than by name, almost as if he was more concerned with asserting his control over me, rather than affection.
Mom’s voice was sharp as she asked, “Didn’t you want to include your girlfriend in the negotiations?”
He flinched, her obvious cut landing the first blow. “Julie’s in the car. I figured I’d introduce her to everyone after we’ve ironed out the details.”
Mom nodded, a righteous grin curling on the corners of her lips.
Dad cleared his throat, ready to recite his practiced speech. “The first item we should cover is who should be awarded primary custodial care for our son. I believe I can provide the best environment for him. We’ve set up a nice bedroom for him, including a brand-new Atari 2600 for entertainment. I’ll also ensure he gets into the college of his choice. And of course, I’ll allow generous visitation rights.”
He turned to her, expectant. “Melissa, would you like to explain what you can offer for his future?”
I couldn’t tell whose face burned brighter from our raging fury, Mom’s or mine. His assumption that I’d want to live with him only proved how completely out of touch he was.
Mom’s mouth parted, but nothing spilled out; evidently, his well-rehearsed spiel had shaken her confidence.
“Mom!” I blurted, my voice breaking the silence.
Both looked at me, waiting for me to finish. “I want to remain with Mom,” I firmly stated, unwavering.
Mom’s expression lightened while Dad’s tightened, convinced he’d held the upper hand. “Son, think of how much I can offer. While your mother takes a looser approach, I can steer you to a brighter future.”
His smug smirk turned my stomach, and the disinterest I’d once felt toward him hardened into something worse. “Well, Mr. Riley,” I started, watching his smirk vanish when I didn’t refer to him as Dad. “While you present a compelling business plan, I’m not up for sale. I prefer a parent who cares more for me, rather than treating me as an investment.”
He hadn’t expected this kind of pushback and scrambled for a rebuttal. In a softer tone, he said, “I was just trying to look out for your interests. I can become more involved with your activities, and Julie won’t be working and can help you with your homework, if needed.”
Mom cringed at the mention of his girlfriend, her discomfort strengthening my resolve. I launched in. “You’ve shown no interest in raising me before. Why would I believe it would suddenly change now? Do you know anything about me? What rank am I in Boy Scouts?”
His answer was a blank expression.
“How are my grades this year? Have I gotten any A’s?”
Silence.
“Who’s my best friend, and what girls have I taken out?”
I could see the realization hit him that he really didn’t know anything about me, his world revolving around his job and girlfriend, leaving me as nothing more than an afterthought.
“Okay, I see your point. I’ll concede on giving your mother primary custody, but I’d like to have you every other weekend and two weeks in the summer and two in the winter,” he offered.
“No,” I said, the forcefulness of my answer surprising both Mom and Dad. “One weekend and three weekday visits each month. No two-week stays. I’ll stay an extra weekend in the summer and one in winter instead of the extended stays.”
“Why weekdays?” he asked. “I won’t be there during the day, only seeing you at dinner and the evening.”
I met his gaze, unflinching. ‘That’s how it’s always been. Why would it suddenly change now?’
He flinched, the weight of my words sinking in. He began to argue, struggling to find words, noticed my stern, determined look, and relented, “Okay, but if you want, you’ll be welcome to visit us at any time. We’re only a few miles away, well within bicycling distance.”
After jotting down our agreement, he turned to Mom and said, “I don’t want any of the furniture, and our retirements stay separate, so that leaves the house, child, and spousal support. You can stay in the house until you want to move or sell, and then we’ll divide the proceeds in half.”
Mom slid a brochure she had in front of her to Dad and said, “This house is really too big for me. I’d prefer a smaller one.” Nodding to the paper, she continued, “I’d like you to buy this house for me and list me as the sole owner on the deed. It’s about half the size and has a much smaller yard. The value is less than half of this one. In return, I’ll sign over my rights to this house, allowing you to acquire the entire proceeds after I’ve moved into my place. In the meantime, I’ll live here rent-free.”
He pondered the offer, mentally calculating the pros and cons. It almost sounded too good, netting more money than he’d expected. “That sounds reasonable, Melissa. It makes sense to have something in place to make the move smoother. Let’s address the other details. I’ll provide child support for two years, and since my salary is significantly higher than yours, I’ll provide a generous alimony for five years, or until you remarry, whichever is sooner.”
“I’d rather take a cash buyout,” Mom replied, throwing him off guard again. He appeared flustered from having every item on his agenda changed from his expectations. “Add up everything you’d owe me and take off twenty percent.”
He smiled, relief crossing his face. A lump sum would work in his favor. After thinking about it a bit, a hesitation surfaced. “What if you marry before the five years?”
“I’ll pay you back the full amount of alimony if that happens,” she stated confidently.
A look of surprise swept through him, hearing Mom admit she had no intention of marrying again. Not giving up, he argued, “Once I give you cash, what would prevent you from not supporting Dave adequately?”
She smirked, replying, “So you don’t trust me? Do I need to remind you who cheated in this relationship, breaking our trust?”
His face reddened with embarrassment, acknowledging his improper dalliance. He scribbled down the latest changes, then looked up. “Okay, I’ll agree to everything you proposed. I’ll have my attorney make the revisions and bring them back for your signature. Thanks for making our transition to our new chapter in our lives much smoother.”
He paused briefly before adding, “Would you be open to meeting Julie now?”
“Sure, bring the skank in,” Mom replied, her smile sharpening as she twisted the knife in his cheating gut.
Dad grimaced but wisely held his tongue, hastily retreating to fetch his girlfriend. I had to give it to Dad; he had good taste in women. Julie was cute, maybe five years younger than Mom, and also a brunette. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Dad was just trading Mom for a younger version. While her resemblance was similar, I had no idea of her personality, so maybe that’s what appealed to him.
Her timid demeanor reflected her discomfort in facing the wife of the man she had stolen. Dad introduced us, and Julie turned to me and offered her hand. I lightly shook it. “Glad to meet you, Dave. I know I can’t replace your mother, but maybe we can be friends.”
“Sure, I guess,” I curtly replied.
When she turned to Mom, her eyes widened at the sight of Mom’s appearance. Julie wore jeans and a thick blouse, her hair tied in a ponytail, looking effortlessly casual. But Mom had outclassed her by several levels with her poised, polished, and undeniably confident look. I wondered how Dad had described Mom to his girlfriend.
Surprisingly, Mom extended both hands for Julie to hold. “Glad to meet you, Julie,” Mom stated, her smirk laced with something unreadable. She lifted Julie’s left hand, inspected her ring, and remarked, “What a beautiful engagement ring. That reminds me, Frank. I’ll need yours so I’ll have a matching set.”
When he hesitated, Mom added, “After all, you’ll want to match your ring with Julie’s, something much more elegant than ours.” Pushing in the knife, she continued, “Unless you aren’t ready to let go, yet.”
I couldn’t suppress my grin, watching Julie’s eyes shoot daggers at Dad. She didn’t have to speak out loud; her expression made it clear she was questioning whether he was ready to close the door on his marriage.
Dad glanced at her and understood the weight of the moment, hurriedly removing his ring and handing it to Mom.
But Mom wasn’t finished. She turned the ring around, studying it as if it were an artifact. “I remember when we bought these,” she mused. “We were just starting and couldn’t afford anything fancy.”
She let out a quiet chuckle, her gaze lifting to meet Dad’s. “The jeweler told us they weren’t meant to be for a lifetime. Guess he was right.”
Both Dad and Julie stared at the floor, hoping to shrink into it, but Mom had one last jab to twist the knife that was buried to the hilt in Dad’s chest. “Perhaps, this time, you can afford one that lasts longer.”
Dad muttered a rushed goodbye, ushering Julie out the door, his retreat unmistakable. Behind them, Mom giggled, her victory apparent. She had outmaneuvered him at every turn, and I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d ever made it so far in the business world.
After they left, Mom opened her arms for a hug, and I stepped into them without hesitation. Her soft body melded into mine as we embraced, hugging each other tightly. Soon, I felt her begin to tremble, followed by quiet sobs. Her tears slid down my neck as our heads rested together, sharing the weight of unspoken sorrow.
I pulled back, and when I saw the tears in her eyes, my heart sank. “He’s not worth it, Mom. Don’t feel bad about losing him.”
She smiled at my misinterpretation and said, “I’m not crying over him. My tears are from the joy of your choosing to stay with me, rather than moving in with him. Even with his promises of a brighter future than I can provide.”
“Like I told him, Mom. He was never a real parent to me. You’ve supported me through my whole life, but he merely provided the money; you did everything else. It was an easy choice,” I stated, pulling her in for a tight embrace.
Her body shook again, but only with laughter, rather than tears. “Where did you come up with the Boy Scout thing? I nearly lost it when you asked him that.”
I chuckled along with her, replying, “He had no idea that I’ve never been a Boy Scout. Honestly, I could have asked him anything, and he wouldn’t have had a clue. And I’m not the only fibber. Am I right to suspect we’re not moving into that new house?”
She pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, her expression expressing warmth. “You hit that on the head. That’s going to be a rental property while I live here, for free. The cash buyout was necessary to kickstart my bookkeeping business from home. I already have several clients lined up. Just have to turn the den into an office.”
“You really played him, Mom. I’m beginning to think his interest in Julie is from wanting someone closer to his IQ, which, face it, isn’t impressive,” I said, causing both of us to chuckle.
She grinned and said, “It’s a pity to get all dressed up and not take advantage of it. How about if I take you out for dinner tonight? Go throw on something classier and let’s head out.”
“Sounds great. Pizza?” I asked. She smiled, rolled her eyes, and gently shoved me toward my bedroom.
We opted for an Italian restaurant instead, and it turned out to be a very romantic dinner. I cherished the simple act of guiding her to the table and assisting her in sitting. While staring at her beauty throughout the meal, I felt like I could spend the rest of my life with her.
Sixty days later, the divorce was finalized without any problems. That same night, Mom sat across from me at dinner, her smile reflecting a newfound sense of freedom. I tried to appear supportive, but my thoughts kept wandering. She was too good a catch to stay single for long. Sooner or later, another man would enter our lives, and once again, I’d find myself sharing her time, adjusting to the presence of someone new.
After cleaning the kitchen and showering, we settled into the living room to watch some shows. Detecting my solemn attitude, Mom asked, “What’s wrong, dear? You’re acting depressed tonight. Are you sad that my divorce is complete?”
I paused to collect my thoughts, unsure of how to describe my feelings without coming across as a selfish, jealous son. I had no right to interfere with her happiness, and she deserved to find someone special, having to put up with a sexless life with Dad for the past year. It wasn’t my place to stand in her way. Wanting to be supportive, I offered a small apology, “Sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t be putting a damper on your special day.” Then, attempting to shift the focus to her future, I asked, “Do you have any plans to begin dating again to move on with your life?”
She turned to me, gripping my hand, her gaze filled with understanding. She had always read me like a book, sensing my unspoken worries before I could voice them. “My life will move forward without a man, except for you,” she reassured me, her tone firm yet gentle. “Don’t worry. No one else will be sharing our home. My focus is on securing our future, building my financial stability, and ensuring you make it through college.”
Relief washed over me, and as a smile spread across my face, she returned with her own warm, unwavering smile. She squeezed my hand gently, a silent promise that, for now, it would be just us, facing the future together.
A few weeks later, Mom convinced me to visit Dad and Julie to check out my new bedroom and get a feel of their house. They lived about three miles away, close enough to easily make it there on my bike. Her cooking didn’t match Mom’s, but it wasn’t terrible either. Dad tried unsuccessfully to engage me in conversation, and Julie’s uneasiness was palpable throughout the meal.
Afterward, I excused myself to my room to check out the gaming console they’d bought for me. I unpacked some clothes I’d brought with me and slipped into bed without joining Dad and Julie in the living room. The last thing I wanted was to sit through them cuddling or displaying their affection for each other.
The next morning, Dad headed out after drinking a cup of coffee, which he’d always done with Mom and me. Julie made me an omelet, and without Dad around, she warmed up considerably. It was as if her shyness left with him. We ended up having a surprisingly pleasant conversation, and for the first time, I genuinely enjoyed talking with her.
The next few times I stayed with them were a repeat performance, but my perception of Julie evolved as I spent more time with her. She was more intelligent than she let on and had a great sense of humor. Although her wardrobe remained conservative, her perspective was anything but–bold, vibrant, and candid. I found myself looking forward to our conversations, and even Mom was impressed when I shared the things we’d discussed. Under different circumstances, I could imagine Mom and Julie becoming good friends.
One Thursday morning at breakfast, I asked Mom if she’d mind me staying at Dad’s through Saturday, since Friday was a teacher workday. She cheerfully responded, “That sounds lovely. See you Sunday when you return home.”
After checking with Julie and getting the okay, I headed straight to their house after school on Thursday evening. Over dinner, I turned to Dad and asked, “Hey, I noticed you have a riding mower. How about I take care of the lawn tomorrow while you’re at work?”
“That’d be great, son,” he replied. “I hated to miss out on the local golf tournament this weekend. I knew the lawn was getting out of hand and would have to mow it, so this will give me the chance to go. Thanks a lot.”
The next morning, after Dad left for work, I sat and talked with Julie for a bit before going out and mowing the lawn. It took several hours, and I even weed-whacked the edges around the sidewalks. Julie sat on the deck watching me, dressed in her usual jeans and heavy blouse, sipping iced tea while I worked.
When finished, I joined her on the deck, stretched my legs, and said, “Think I’ll go to my room and relax with my Atari for a bit.”
“Sure,” she replied. “You’ve definitely earned it. The yard looks great. Thanks so much.”
Around one, she lightly knocked on my door and asked, “Dave, would you like some lunch, and if so, what?”
“Pizza,” I said, halfway joking. It had become my standard reply whenever anyone wanted to know what I wanted to eat. After all, it was the primary diet for a teenager.
She didn’t answer right away, the sounds of her footsteps diminishing as she walked away. I assumed she’d whip something up and call me when it was ready. Fifteen minutes later, a knock tapped against the door.
“Okay. You ready?”
Curious as to how she could have made or ordered one so fast, I nearly sprinted to the door and flung it open. She stood there beaming, but my eyes didn’t linger on her smile. They were pulled downward, tracing the curves of her body.
Her fitted blouse clung to her figure, the faint outline of her bra visible beneath the thin fabric. A short skirt hugged her hips, revealing her smooth, toned legs up to mid-thigh. She looked stunning and undeniably sexy, a welcome change from her normal appearance. I felt a stirring of desire looking at my sexy step-mom.
“I know a great pizza joint not far from here,” she stated, walking toward the front door.
I followed closely behind, admiring the backs of her long, shapely legs. It’s a shame she kept them hidden much of the time.
While we ate, my focus switched between her tight top and her cute face. She’d let her hair down from the usual ponytail she wore, her brunette hair falling a bit below her shoulders. It accentuated the allure of her cute face perfectly.
The server checked on us several times, her expression flickering with curiosity about our relationship, but flirted with me anyway. It didn’t go unnoticed when Julie commented, a playful glint in her eyes, “I think that girl has a crush on you. She’s cute, too.”
“Probably going for a bigger tip,” I replied, shrugging as I dismissed her comment. “She probably thinks you’re my date anyway, with the way you’re dressed and your youthful looks.”
She blushed and commented, “Well, thank you, Dave. I know how boys your age hate to be seen with their mothers, so I’d hoped to make it look a little less obvious.”
“You certainly did that,” I complimented her, offering a genuine smile. She blushed again.
Shifting gears, she tilted her head and asked warmly, “We got off to a rocky start when we first met, but I think we’re becoming friends now. Don’t you?”
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