On Sept. 10, 2001, I was a relatively young newspaper employee. I lived about an hour from Shanksville, Pa., the site of the crash of Flight 93.I was ...n my early 30s, naive and immature. I was clinging tightly to my fading youth and just as tightly to my rapidly evaporating idealism.I had worked late Monday night because I was supposed to be off work on Tuesday. I had put away three or four beers when I finally got home and stumbled to bed shortly before the sun arose for the day.The incessant. Jesus, Ben, you really are a perv." You have no idea. But, with an ass like yours, trust me I won't be the only guy who wants it." Huh, what?" And then I felt a burning heat as he plunged his finger deep into my hole."Oh, fuuuck! Holy… oh damn, damn, damn!” I exclaimed, pushing back onto his invading digit. Ben sank it all the way until I felt his fist pushing against my ass, driving in and withdrawing before repeating it over and over again.My legs were quaking and I worried I might fall as. More

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