"She was damn incompetent." "Oh, you think?" I shot back sarcastically. "Well what are we going to do now?" "What can we do? There's got to be a ton...of forensic evidence tying us to that place. Fingerprints on glasses and on the doorknob. And they're asking me to bring in my cross trainers, which can only mean I left a print somewhere when I ran across the lawn. They can match shoeprints just like fingerprints, you know. Flaws caused by damage to the treads make the prints left by a show. Knowing that I had to make all of this quick or else lose myself in these amazing boys, I decided to take the first step. I lifted Sam's smooth legs one at a time, exposing his tight butt. I looked in his eyes, and he gave me a smile, then just closed his them and put his head back. I took that as a sign to go for it. I decided first to stick my finger in my mouth, getting it coated with spit, then pressing it against his tight pucker. It wiggled in, and when it moved around easily, I added. More

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