Sentences Generator
And
Your saved sentences

No sentences have been saved yet

205 Sentences With "foos"

How to use foos in a sentence? Find typical usage patterns (collocations)/phrases/context for "foos" and check conjugation/comparative form for "foos". Mastering all the usages of "foos" from sentence examples published by news publications.

Foos and I watched for several moments, and then Foos lifted his head and gave me a thumbs-up sign.
Much of the book is made up of direct quotes from Foos' detailed journal of his voyeurism (enough of it, in fact, that Foos will receive payment for the book), and Talese's narrative relies heavily on interviews with Foos.
In order to gain access, he signed a confidentiality document and agreed not to reveal any details about Foos until Foos gave his consent.
Drawing on the enormous reams of notes Foos had taken over the years, and his own experience getting to know Foos, Talese compiled The Voyeur's Motel.
Foos Studio Foos Studio Idealab founder Bill Gross said he backed codeSpark because of its unique approach to teaching kids programming basics before they develop a high degree of math or reading skills.
Foos writes that he observed them discussing their son's marriage.
Foos lost control on other occasions, each time risking exposure.
This upset Foos, but he did not notify the police.
I called Foos right away to ask about the situation.
Still, whenever an envelope from Foos arrived, I opened it.
Talese cautioned readers that Foos is not an entirely reliable narrator.
But, Talese went to see Foos and his voyeuristic motel anyway.
Foos thought their projects complemented each other, and Talese somewhat agreed.
In fact, Foos appropriated private sexual acts without the participants' consent.
Fuck, this lineup on the Foos Gone Wild Alternativo Stage slaps.
Mr Foos would often then masturbate, or have sex with his wife.
Hosford said kids have created 7 million games using "Foos Studio" already.
While driving us back to the Manor House, Foos continued to talk.
My next thought was: Why was I worried about protecting Gerald Foos?
Foos walked around the complex and asked a neighbor about the woman.
"I won't stand for this at all," Foos wrote in the journal.
He said, if you guys can get Central Park, the Foos will play.
Foos shares the document with Talese, who reproduces massive portions of it here.
Foos did not object, saying that he regretted his negligence in the matter.
After I unpacked, I began making notes of my impressions of Gerald Foos.
Gerald Foos had literary and scientific pretensions, but he had no self-awareness.
CodeSpark Academy with the Foos is basically an extended version of The Foos Coding, which includes puzzles and exercises that let kids design, program and share their own games, or "remixes" of games that other kids created using the platform.
"It seems as if that young woman just fell through the cracks," Foos said.
Only Donna, who was in on the plan, could help Foos with the installation.
Within minutes, Foos was in the attic and had positioned himself over their room.
It occurred to me that Foos might be approaching something like a mental breakdown.
Foos claims that he told only three people his secret – his two wives and Talese.
Talese wrote that Foos' attempted to justify his invasions of privacy as legitimate sex research.
"I hope I'm not described as just some pervert or Peeping Tom," Foos told Talese.
" Talese also told the Post, "The source of my book, Gerald Foos, is certifiably unreliable.
In his mid-forties, Foos was hazel-eyed, around six feet tall, and slightly overweight.
I had already decided that I would not write about Gerald Foos under these restrictions.
Things did not improve for Gerald Foos with regard to the second couple he observed.
Foos was eager to see the woman undressed, but the man turned off the lights.
Barbara White broke up with Foos when she discovered that he had a foot fetish.
I was shocked, and surprised that Foos had not mentioned the incident to me earlier.
I spent a few sleepless nights, asking myself whether I ought to turn Foos in.
Over the next decades, I continued to get letters from Gerald Foos of Aurora, Colorado.
Talese previously admitted to having reservations about his subject after the Post fact-checked Foos' tellings.
Foos says he saw that she was breathing after the attack and so he did nothing.
The next day, the woman was found dead on the floor, Foos said in his journal.
She would sometimes join Foos in the crawl space as he spent hours watching his guests.
When he visited Foos, Talese became implicated in Foos's acts by joining in a voyeuristic session.
Foos not only spied on his guests, but might have gawked at, and enabled, a murder.
Mr Foos considers himself to have performed three decades of public service, and now seeks recognition.
Now Mr. Talese has acknowledged that Mr. Foos might have failed to share some key facts.
In the office, Donna's mother handed Foos some mail and briefed him on the maids' schedules.
One afternoon, Foos saw the man in Room 10 sell drugs to a few young boys.
The most dramatic one concerned a murder that Foos claimed to have witnessed as a voyeur.
Foos told Talese that he owned his motel from the mid-'60s into the mid-'90s.
It was from Gerald Foos, the proprietor of the Manor House Motel in Aurora, Colorado; in the letter and subsequent ones that followed, Foos described his life as a voyeur, using his motel as a "laboratory" to spy on guests at their most intimate and banal moments.
Foos bought the motel for the sole purpose of exercising his obsession with watching people have sex.
"Even before our marriage I told her that this gave me a feeling of power," Foos wrote.
But the Foos had set it up that they would come down and just play that night.
CrumbI'VE BECOME SO CRUMB I CAN'T FEEL YOU THERE CucoAlso playing the Foos Gone Wild Alternativo Stage.
Foos liked to spy on guests with pets, but for different reasons than he spied on couples.
Foos was not a subject I could write about, despite my curiosity about how it would end.
" For his part, Foos swears, "unequivocally and without recourse, that I have never purposely told a lie.
Talese wrote that he was torn about the morality and ethics of what Foos was doing – especially after receiving the report of the murder in the motel – but ultimately did not reveal what he knew about Foos until the motel owner finally agreed to go public with his story.
Talese immediately decided he was not going to write about Foos because he wouldn't go on the record.
Foos was compensated for the rights to his manuscript, which makes up a significant chunk of the book.
As Gerald Foos reflected upon his "burden" as a committed voyeur, he saw himself as an entrapped figure.
Foos called police and gave them information about the suspect, but never revealed that he had witnessed the attack.
The attack came after Foos flushed the man's drugs down the toilet because he watched him sell to children.
Foos wrote in his journal that after he watched the man choke his girlfriend, the man fled the room.
That Foos wrote with "excellent penmanship" a thick, multiyear journal of motel voyeurship we can also be fairly certain.
Mr. Foos did not want to be identified by name at the time, so Mr. Talese wrote nothing then.
It's about a man named Gerald Foos, who owned a 21-room motel on a seedy strip outside Denver.
Mr. Talese makes it abundantly clear in "The Voyeur's Motel" that Mr. Foos is not an entirely reliable narrator.
"Donna wasn't happy about giving up our house and living in the manager's quarters of the motel," Foos said.
" Foos watched with horror as the dog proceeded "to do his duty in a large pile behind the chair.
Foos watched as the wife tried to help her husband out of his wheelchair and emptied his catheter bag.
It was called CalJam, and hosted acts like Queens of the Stone Age, Liam Gallagher, and the Foos themselves.
And we've done that before in the Foos, for sure, where we ended up going back to the original idea.
Talese's book on Foos, based on interviews with the hotelier and his diaries, is set to be released this month.
Foos not only witnessed, but recorded moments that were not his own, and he has now profited from those actions.
Like Foos in his attic, Talese's book avoids questioning itself or its subject, or taking seriously the matter of harm.
When Foos claims to have witnessed a murder, his predominant concern is whether reporting this crime would expose his voyeurism.
"Seems that everything is gone," Foos said, opening the car door and, with the aid of his cane, stepping out.
I have no doubt that Foos was an epic voyeur, but he could sometimes be an inaccurate and unreliable narrator.
The Post writes: But Talese overlooked a key fact in his book: Foos sold the motel, located in Aurora, Colo.
Foos considers himself a "pioneering sex researcher," a king among voyeurs; and a martyr, shouldering the lonely burden of his observations.
Talese—rather than take Foos apart, examine his own identifications, or knead his own complicity—swaps the difficult for the lurid.
The reader moves forward with this in mind, while having little doubt that much of what Mr. Foos recounts actually happened.
That is what Gerald and Anita Foos saw, four months later, when I paid a visit to the site with them.
When the woman drove off, Foos followed her in his car and saw her enter an apartment in a retirement complex.
But the Post has obtained property records that show Foos sold the motel in 1980 and bought it back in 1988.
And Talese was implicated as well: He signed a confidentiality agreement with Foos, and joined him on at least one peeping session.
After observing hundreds of people in their solitude, Foos becomes increasingly misanthropic: In dehumanizing his guests, he loses his faith in humanity.
Later, Foos realized that when the man signed the register he had listed as his home address a regional vacuum-cleaner store.
Foos was only moderately against the war when he built his observation platform, but as the struggle continued he revised his opinion.
Not only was Foos violating the privacy of everyone who stayed in his motel, but he was also clearly a practiced liar.
For decades starting in 1966, the Colorado motel owner Gerald Foos spied on his residents through walls, mostly watching them have sex.
In 1977, Foos claims that he watched a drug dealer choke his girlfriend until she lost consciousness in room 10 of the motel.
His second wife, Anita, considered herself a "full-fledged voyeur," according to The New Yorker and actively participated in Foos' spying on guests.
In the New Yorker article, Talese describes climbing into the attic of Foos' motel and watching a couple engaged in a sex act.
In the New Yorker excerpt, it's clear that Talese sees Foos as a kind of mirror to his own practices as a reporter.
Among the inconsistencies: Mr. Foos dated his first journal entries about the motel guests to 1966, but didn't own the motel until 1969.
The two stayed in touch until, in 2013, Mr. Foos gave him permission to use not only his journals but also his name.
I saw what Foos was doing, and I did the same: I got down on my knees and crawled toward the lighted louvres.
In addition to collecting data on sexual styles and positions, foreplay, and pillow talk, Foos took an interest in his guests' bathroom habits.
Skepticism about the band's future swirled in 2015, but the slew of Foos news makes good on Grohl's promise that the group would continue.
The Foos—prematurely elderly with the magic of prosthetic makeup—find themselves in an oppressive nursing home, lead by terrifying Nurse Ratched-like staff.
He and his first wife painstakingly installed fake ceiling vents so that Foos could peer into rooms from a crawlspace above without being noticed.
Foos first contacted the journalist in 1980 as Talese was writing Thy Neighbor's Wife, his ground-breaking chronicle of sex and sexuality in America.
Little of the art made on Pier 34 survives, aside from a stray window shade bracket painted by Wojnarowicz and saved by Jean Foos.
As a special-education teacher who has worked with male juvenile sex offenders in a treatment setting, I immediately recognized similar tendencies in Foos.
I was more interested in discussing the murder that Foos claimed to have witnessed in Room 10 of the Manor House Motel in 1977.
Finally, after saying good night to his mother-in-law, Foos beckoned me to follow him across the parking lot to the utility room.
I realized my carelessness only when Foos grabbed me by the neck and, with his free hand, pulled my tie up through the slats.
" Foos was infuriated: the motel, he wrote, "is not first-class, but it is clean, and has had guests from all walks of life.
But Mr. Talese didn't turn him in for his unethical and illegal behavior, either, even after Mr. Foos confessed that he had witnessed a murder.
Today, the company launched a premium, subscription service called codeSpark Academy with the Foos, that will deliver constantly refreshing games and content to paying users.
The second wife to collude with her husband's clandestine adventures (the first, Donna, even brought him the occasional snack), Ms. Foos remains a placid enigma.
From subsequent letters I learned that business was going so well that, in 1991, Foos bought a second motel down the street, called the Riviera.
When a couple from Atlanta arrived holding the leash of a large hound that they referred to as Roger, Foos went right to the attic.
Foos built a "viewing platform" in the building's attic, with peepholes disguised as air vents that gave him a clear view to the rooms below.
Nevertheless, he decided to meet with Foos, if only to satisfy his own curiosity about the kind of person who would do such a thing.
"While I've said that most men are voyeurs, there are some voyeurs – like this creep in the Andrews case – who are beneath contempt," Foos told Talese.
An article published by The Washington Post on Thursday night revealed that Mr. Foos sold the motel in 21966 and did not repurchase it until 1988.
Then I stretched my neck in order to see as much as I could through the vent, nearly butting heads with Foos as I did so.
It tells the story of Gerald Foos, a self-proclaimed voyeur who decided to buy a motel for the sole purpose of spying on its guests.
Since 1980, he's been researching, off and on, the life of Gerald Foos, a Colorado hotel owner who claims to have spied on his guests for decades.
The first part of the documentary covers material in The Voyeur's Motel , but it also sounds like the documentary organically came about by interviewing Foos and Talese.
Shortly before publication, the Washington Post found that Mr Foos had not owned the motel for the whole period he claimed to have had access to it.
Other sources confirmed that Mr. Foos spied on his guests, using a secret platform he built in the ceiling, with vents that provided views of the rooms.
In the 1960s, Mr. Foos recounts, he installed specially made vents over the beds in many of his motel's rooms, allowing him to see without being seen.
Co-founder and CEO Grant Hosford said the edtech startup's first game The Foos Coding has been played by 4 million kids in 201 countries to-date.
Because it is possible that someday the F.B.I. will show up and say, 'Gerald Foos, we have evidence that you've been watching people from your observation platform.
It occurred to me that Foos had something in common with another American who wanted the world to read what he had written: Theodore Kaczynski, the Unabomber.
Foos made it clear to me from the beginning that he regarded his voyeurism as serious research, undertaken, in some vague way, for the betterment of society.
An excerpt in The New Yorker already made clear that Talese knew Foos wasn't perfectly reliable, but the extent of his fabrications seemed far beyond what Talese imagined.
Crouching on the catwalk behind Foos, so as to avoid hitting my head on a beam, I watched as he pointed down toward a vent in the floor.
But on the eve of publication of a book nearly four decades in the making, it turns out that Foos lied to Talese about basic parts of his story.
The book is nominally the story of Gerald Foos, who in the mid-1960s bought a 21-room motel outside Colorado for the purpose of spying on his guests.
In November 1977, Foos, by his own account, snuck into a guest room to flush the male occupant's drug stash down the toilet, having seen him dealing to kids.
Among the few mementos that survived the demolition of the pier is Wojnarowicz's "He flew his plane…" (1983), painted on a window shade bracket and rescued by Jean Foos.
Since then, Foos and Talese kept in touch with the intent that a book would emerge from their communication—and that book, The Voyeur's Motel, was released last year.
"Foos made a beautiful run, escaping a couple of potential tacklers at the line of scrimmage and plowing on after being hit again at the 19953," read one story.
But the ostensible murder occurred before electronic record keeping, so it was possible, Talese concluded, that the case files had disappeared or that Foos had mixed up his dates.
The book, which Grove Atlantic is to publish on July 21960, follows the strange story of Mr. Foos, who used a hidden observation platform at his motel in Aurora, Colo.
Later, in the spring of 2013, Mr. Foos contacted Mr. Talese and said he wanted to go public with his story and share the years of observations he had recorded.
As time went on, Foos became increasingly disenchanted with his guests, whose behavior prompted him to confront larger questions about the human condition as well as his own political convictions.
The Washington Post reports that Foos did not even own the titular motel between 1980 and 1988, which means that much of the information in Foos's journals was possibly made-up.
Talese doesn't revisit Foos's trustworthiness again until a late chapter where he writes about a motel murder Foos claims to have witnessed but for which he can find no hard evidence.
The Washington Post reported last week that, among other things, Mr. Foos did not own the motel for eight of the years (1980-88) he was said to have been gawking.
It is also possible that Foos made an error in his recordkeeping, or transcribed the date of the murder inaccurately, as he copied the original journal entry into a different format.
When I met Foos in the office the next morning, he bore no trace of irritation, and he did not comment on the fact that I was not wearing a necktie.
"We're getting close to our motel," Foos said, as he drove along East Colfax Avenue, passing through a neighborhood of stores, a trailer park, fast-food outlets, and an auto-repair shop.
The next morning, when the couple asked for their fifteen-dollar deposit, Foos shocked them by escorting them to their room, moving the chair, and pointing to the spot on the rug.
Foos then watched from the attic as the new guest found the suitcase and deliberated over whether to break the lock and look inside or return the suitcase to the motel office.
According to Foos, he saw a man sell drugs out of his motel room and, incensed, snuck into the room while it was empty to flush the remaining drugs down the toilet.
This documentary, which debuted at this year's New York Film Festival, features interviews with Mr. Foos and Mr. Talese as they wrestle with an onslaught of criticism and their own complex relationship.
His tale about Gerald Foos—a voyeur who bought a Colorado hotel in the late 60s solely so that he could spy on his guests—would be shady enough as it is.
But Foos' deception may extend past fake vents: Some of the events he claimed to have witnessed happened during a period when — as it turns out — he no longer owned the motel.
Talese saw the peep holes in the hotel himself – and even watched one couple having sex – but the records Foos kept have inconsistencies and several key dates and facts do not match up.
Mr Foos, who first confided in Mr Talese in 1980 and over three decades later gave the writer permission to go public with his story, believes himself to be a "pioneering sex researcher".
If the primary value of "The Voyeur's Motel" lies in its veracity, or, as Mr Foos might like, as a sexual history of post-war America, this flip-flopping might render it worthless.
By my rough count, excerpts from the motelkeeper's sex journal make up about 80 of the book's 233 pages, rendering Foos a partner in duet with Talese if not his uncredited co-author.
And when one of the filmmakers tentatively asks Mr. Foos to explain an inaccuracy in his story, Mr. Talese vociferously objects, deriding the directors as mere "cameramen" and unfit to act as journalists.
I had let Foos know that, without naming him as a witness, I intended to contact the Aurora Police Department to find out if it had uncovered any new information about the homicide.
A few years after Foos started mailing me photocopies of his handwritten journal pages, I received a large package from him containing a three-hundred-page typescript of his viewing logs through 21995.
Mr Foos fitted his property with an "observation platform" in the attic, complete with fake ventilator grates, enabling him to spy on his guests (often accompanied by his wife) undetected for around three decades.
Had you done so in the Colorado establishment owned by Gerald Foos some time between 1966 and 1990, your host might have been peering through a ceiling vent, taking copious notes on your ablutions.
An obsessive peeper who enjoyed decades of onanistic pleasure at his oblivious guests' expense, Mr. Foos shared his prurient interests and diaries with Mr. Talese, who documented them for The New Yorker in 2016.
She would stand on a chair in each of the designated rooms and reach up to fit a louvred screen into the opening in the ceiling that Foos had made with a power saw.
His absence from the motel raises doubt about some of the things Foos told Talese he saw — enough that the author himself now has deep reservations about the truth of some material he presents.
It traces Talese's decades-long correspondence with Gerald Foos, a voyeur who owned a motel that he modified so he could watch people from the ceiling and record what he saw (mostly people doing it).
That will be especially true for investors in states taxing income at more than 5 percent, including California, New Jersey and New York, said Beth Foos, a senior analyst at Morningstar Research Services in Chicago.
"The central fact of the piece, that Gerald Foos was, in the late '60s and '70s, a voyeur, spying on the guests in his motel, is not in doubt in the article," Mr. Remnick wrote.
" During our breakfast, I showed Foos a letter from Paul O'Keefe, then a lieutenant, now a division chief, of the Aurora Police Department, who wrote, "Unfortunately, we can find no record of such an event.
Foos never got over his first love, a high-school cheerleader named Barbara White, who, along with crowds of onlookers, cheered from the grandstands after he had hit a home run or scored a touchdown.
The Foos may have thrown the baby out with the bathwater to some extent, since online ticket sales remain popular with consumers for their convenience, but surely artists could come up with other innovative tricks.
Based on a long-standing correspondence with Gerald Foos, the self-declared "World's Greatest Voyeur", Mr Talese tells the story of his subject's life as owner of Manor House Motel in Colorado for nearly 30 years.
The problem with the Foos account, Talese adds, is that he didn't buy Manor House Motel until 1969, meaning that he must have imagined several years of the wild motel bed-sports described in his journal.
The humor of these outbursts is not lost on the directors, who add little jabs of their own with repeated shots of Mr. Foos and his wife, Anita, peeking through their window shades in nervous agitation.
" The wife was affectionate and supportive, and after observing the couple completing a successful sexual encounter, Foos wrote, "I have had the opportunity to observe many of the deplorable and regrettable tragedies of the Vietnam War.
"I should not have believed a word he said," the 2116-year-old author said after The Washington Post informed him of property records that showed Foos did not own the motel from 23 to 22.
" However, Foos believed the information he was collecting was superior to the data the experts had, "Because his subjects didn t know they were being watched, they yielded more accurate and, to his mind, more valuable information.
"Gerald Foos, as no one calls into question, was an epic voyeur, and, as I say very clearly in the text, he could also at times be an unreliable teller of his own peculiar story," he said.
"I hope we can find something to take home," Foos said, walking slowly, with his head down, searching for a memento or two that might be added to his collections—perhaps a doorknob or a room number.
The shocking revelations, made in this week's issue of The New Yorker, have brought scrutiny on the owner, Gerald Foos, and on the author of the magazine story, legendary journalist Gay Talese – who kept Foos's secret since 1980.
Not only can this be played in China or the U.S., without translation, but if you are a kid with ADHD, dyslexia or some other learning difference or disability, you can play The Foos along with your classmates.
"What drew him to the store is, we were turning him on to music and he wanted to soak it all up," Harold Bronson, who managed the store and founded the label with Richard Foos, said in an interview.
Among the major facts Talese got wrong in The Voyeur's Motel: Foos didn't own the motel for an eight-year stretch in the 1980s and his son had not lived in an apartment later occupied by mass shooter James Holmes.
Out of Sight Gay Talese's article about Gerald Foos, a motel owner who secretly spied on his customers for decades, devotes only a few lines to the culpability of Talese himself during their thirty-year correspondence ("The Voyeur's Motel," April 11th).
She was an in-house nurse, a co-conspirator with regard to his prying, a trustworthy manager of their family finances, and a private secretary, who would take dictation in shorthand when Foos was too tired to write in his journal.
The joy of sex becomes the job of sex, as Talese and Foos heap upon the reader endless and undifferentiated accounts from the journals of smutty dialogue, masturbation, three-ways, toilet habits, cross-dressing, dildo action and even sex with teddy bears.
The two kept a sporadic correspondence until 2013, when Foos announced that he was finally ready to allow his name to be published; Talese, a man of some principles if not others, refuses to write about a subject unless they consent to being named.
Chronicling the literary debacle and the decades-long relationship that preceded it, the directors Myles Kane and Josh Koury dance from the memorabilia-crammed basement in Mr. Talese's Manhattan brownstone to the cluttered living-room in a Denver suburb where Mr. Foos holds court.
Finally, Foos bent and picked up two chunks of green-painted stone that had lined the walkway along the parking area (he had painted the stones himself) and a strip of electrical wiring from the red neon sign that had spelled out the motel's name.
I also invited two artists, Jean Foos and Frank Holliday, who knew Wojnarowicz during his lifetime, to help paint a picture of a scene that burned bright, but was eventually snuffed out by a commercial art world obsessed with novelty, and the looming disaster that was AIDS.
But provided no assurance that anything but the most basic framework of the Foos story is true, how engaged can the reader be with its clinical descriptions of people getting it on with themselves, getting it on with a spouse or lover, or getting it on in a group?
Approached as a scientific investigation — Foos repeatedly expresses his "higher purpose" to use his motel "laboratory" for "observing people in their natural state" in pursuit of discoveries like those made by sexologists at the Masters and Johnson clinic and the Kinsey Institute — his work is not even crackpot.
" A few weeks later, Gerald Foos resumed writing letters to me, and he used his familiar bombastic style in response to the movie-theatre shooting: "Haven't the people of Aurora treated their fellow men with kindness and consideration, so that the sword of Damocles was lowered on us?
On the way to my room, Foos told me that their son was a freshman at the Colorado School of Mines, and that their daughter, who was born with a respiratory ailment, had to drop out of high school to be treated at a special clinic, where she lived.
At times, I could almost picture Foos rubbing his hands together, like a mad scientist in a B movie: "I will have the finest laboratory in the world for observing people in their natural state, and then begin determining for myself exactly what goes on behind closed bedroom doors," he wrote.
Calling into doubt the veracity of his book, Talese writes that the suburban Denver motel owner Gerald Foos claims to have started observing and transcribing the private business of his guests in 1966, peering down at them through 6-by-19713-inch surveillance grates he installed in the ceilings of a dozen rooms of his 21-unit motel.
His injury, however, meant major things for the Foos: it happened only two weeks before they were due to headline 2015's Glastonbury Festival, but in the end their appearance had to be cancelled, because Grohl's ability to do that thing every Glastonbury headliner ever does where they go down to hold hands with members of the crowd before being removed by an enormous security guard had unfortunately been compromised.
His interest was both sexual and "scientific": Mr Foos would take meticulous notes as he observed the sex lives of couples in the rooms beneath him, from the suburban mother stealing lusty trysts with a doctor in his lunch hour, to the married couple and the young stud employed in their vacuum-cleaner company, to the Miss America candidate from Oakland who spent two weeks in the motel and never had sex with her husband.

No results under this filter, show 205 sentences.

Copyright © 2024 RandomSentenceGen.com All rights reserved.