As you hurdle through the air with the salty peanut, towards Cliff's gaping maw, you're relieved to find yourself falling much faster than the bar snack due to your slightly heavier weight. While the bearish cop's mouth snaps shut and his strong jaw begins to mince the peanut into paste, you continue falling down, down, behind his unbuttoned uniform shirt..
You freefall like Alice down the rabbit hole, your back sliding against the blue fabric of his shirt. In front of you, a thick brown carpet of chest hair flies by, as do Cliff's big brown nipples and the slabs of muscle that are his giant pecs.
Where the shirt tightens around the giant's waist, you finally stop falling and find yourself pinned between a wall of fabric and one of juicy, hairy muscle. The smell of Cliff's cologne and his natural musk are thick, almost intoxicating. The man's deep, baritone voice still booms outside as he converses with the bartender.
"You gonna stay for a few more, Cliff?" Buck offers, to which the officer replies:
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