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I take in the chaos in front of me. The kitchen island is peppered with glasses, a Margaritaville Maker spinning a frozen, what I assume is a mango or orange margarita. Limes, some whole, some cut. But that's only in my tertiary view now, as a total of six boobs, three sets of breasts, a half a dozen nipples are front and center. One of those sets belonging to my mother as she bobs and weaves from behind the counter towards me. And it's not in an effort to cover herself or feel any level of embarrassment. Nope, she's coming in for a topless hug. Awesome.
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