No, there wouldn’t be any television appearances, and no, there wouldn’t be a book contract either, and yes, it was all his fault, and yes, Claude...could hit him square on the chin if he liked. Still, this was not enough. He should make a sacrifice as well. Call it a sacrifice to God for saving his life. Yes, he declared, he must tell Don Bluestein not to publish his collected works and instead publish Claude’s book of poems in its place. He was amazed how it took a suicide attempt to come to. She flipped open the bottle of suntan oil and poured it on the crack of his ass. He moaned out because it was warm from being heated by the sun but also because he knew what was about to happen. Amber used two of her perfectly manicured fingers to work some of the oil into his hole and Chance was whimpering like a baby, begging to get fucked.Amber took the oil and poured half the bottle on her fuck stick. She gripped it firmly and aimed the head up with Chance's tight hole. He gripped the sides. More

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