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.not out of any pleasure. No no, it wasstrictly a powerfuck. Usually for fun for himself and his buddies, theywould drink beer and watch the faggot shove household items up his boytwat. The had forced him to shove a broom handle up his ass and dance around thatway for thirtyminutes...as well as a flashlight, a baseball bat, arollingPin, several cucumbers, and all kinds of other stuff. Sometimes the faggothad to miss school because he couldn't walk. His stretched out hole was simply too sore. His grades went from straight A's down toD's and nobodyknew why, although Mr. Coulter the counselor suspecteddrugs. The faggot'smom would have been beside her self with worry, but she wasalready besideherself with the divorce and the wine, so she hardly noticed. The faggot cried himself to sleep most nights. Here wasthis seventeen yearold five foot eleven dark haired handsome hunk with a verynice body,sobbing every night and praying for some help...some release from the release from the constant. With a week to go before opening, the final push was on. I was spending nearly all my time at the new shop. Of course, that meant I wasn’t home with Sheri very much. She actually started coming over to the shop to help me paint or clean or whatever jobs she could do. It was sweet that she just wanted to be around and be some kind of help.A few days before opening, I was really stressed out. When Sheri got out of work that day, around 3:30, she came right to the shop without going home. I’m sure in some part of my mind I was excited she was coming, but in the moment I was so scattered that I completely forgot.When she arrived, she found me in our network room, covered in dry wall dust and dirt, hanging an equipment rack on the wall.“Hey, how is it going?” she asked as she entered the room.“OK,” I replied. “Just so much to do. I wish I had some help for some of this bigger stuff.”I was pouring sweat and Sheri could tell how exhausted I was. Sheri walked out of the room. I didn’t really.
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