Crime Statistics From The Gateway Hotel Housing Illegal Migrants Democrats Don’t Want You To Know

Tenants say Venezuela Gang(Tren de Aragua) took the hotel over.

– Police responded to The Gateway Hotel a total of 693 times
– Gun fired in multiple occasions
– Multiple successful stabbings
– Grown man touched a 14 year old girl inappropriately
– Children were present during violent incidents
– Multiple more stabbings attempts
– Doors getting kicked in and one door being torn off
– Housing Tren de Aragua Venezuela gang members
– County attorney’s office reports numerous instances of violent crime

 

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45 thoughts on “Crime Statistics From The Gateway Hotel Housing Illegal Migrants Democrats Don’t Want You To Know

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  6. He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations.

  7. “That is your cock, son.” His father, says. “…but it does not make you a man. It only makes you a boy with a hard cock in his hand.” “But you didn’t though, did you, son?”

  8. Daddy smiled and said, “ that is my good boy. Don’t even want to leave your daddy’s Ripe socks on the floor. That’s the respect I love boy.” I then was told to clean his left foot. “Scrub these whitish paste out in my toenails. I want you to smell and place them in your mouth and let me see.” Daddy commented. It smelled and tasted like Brie cheese. Then I moved my tongue in between daddy’s toes. I cleaned up so well. Just thought I was finished. Daddy said,” the sole is clammy. It has nature feet oil after a whole day in the shoes, you think you finished fag. Keep working on that.” “What are you now, son?”

  9. His father kicks the shoes from his feet and slides his khaki pants off, while still holding, the resistant nut-sac of his virile son in his right hand. He is now as naked as his 17-year-old son. “Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure.

  10. “What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks. His father kicks the shoes from his feet and slides his khaki pants off, while still holding, the resistant nut-sac of his virile son in his right hand. He is now as naked as his 17-year-old son.

  11. The now lukewarm water streams through the curls of his hair rinsing away the last vestiges of the soapy lather. It all goes down the drain in a swirl of bubbles. “What are you now, son?”

  12. “I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.” “What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face.

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  14. His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations. “I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.

  15. Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor. The one shower after his workout and practice had been a good start. But the walk home had tired him. But the massaging jets of water caressing across his muscular frame takes the weariness from his bones from this stressful day.

  16. “I ain’t a-talking ‘bout how big ya cock is, boy. I am talking ‘bout ya, weight. Your height.” His dad says. “I kinda figured on how big you are down there. That’s obvious. It makes me proud of you. My son. Of what I created, along with ya mother.” “I look forward to the day when you are a fully grown man, my son.” His father says. “I am anxious to see the fruit of my loins reach his fully-adorned manhood. Adulthood.”

  17. Daddy gave me a look implying his shoes are needed to be removed. “Can I take off your loafers, daddy ?” I asked so quietly. He looked at me and nodded. I took off both his loafers and put them away neatly in front of me. Daddy then raised his right leg and stepped on my forehead, pushing me down into his loafers. It is a mixed smell with sweat, testosterone, and leather. I couldn’t help but take a big whiff every time I breathed. “Hands-on the floor” he commanded. He moved his feet from my head to my hands. “Kiss them and make the stink goes away using only your fag tongue.” “Yes sir.”

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  20. His father kicks the shoes from his feet and slides his khaki pants off, while still holding, the resistant nut-sac of his virile son in his right hand. He is now as naked as his 17-year-old son.

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