On one particular Friday evening at one of these parties, we were all sitting and swapping stories and by 7pm most people had left however I was still...in the mood for a couple of more beers. The ones that were left were the boss, John, his secretary Amanda, a sales guy named Mike and myself. John was 55, Amanda was 50 but looked really fit and not a day over 40. She was always smiling and have a firm, tight butt. I often perved at her when she would make coffee. Mike was in his late 20's.. She was right, she WAS all warm and cuddly when I got back, she looked sensational in one of my tee shirts over hold up stockings and her pale blue panties, two steaks were on the cooker on a low light and she'd peeled some potatoes before cutting them into chips, nice and thick just how I liked them,"I've been busy" she smiled as I kissed her, "I went back to the shop and bought some steaks as well as a few bottles of lager, want one?" What, a steak or a lager?" A lager, fool" she laughed,"You. Just like the last time.’ I hear the slight creak of the shutter hinges, and then the bird song is a little louder. A pleasant breeze trickles in, smelling of flowers. A long, slow breath is pulled in through my nose, and I finally stand up straight, turning to look at him. He looks tired, but when my eyes meet his, he smiles gently. The sight of him, unchanged, forever unchanged, makes me feel that pang of guilt all over again, and I flush, looking down, my lips a tight line. I turn away from. Is it just the sight of seeing the kid interrible pain, or isit more. Is it a real obsession with turning his teenasshole into a cunt?But sometimes we gay men who are not even interestedparticularly in cunt,still want to turn the boy's hole into a fucked outpussy. Isn't it odd? Ionly know that for me there is no thrill quite likestretching a boy's cuntbeyond the point when he says its ripping and itcan't? take any more. Maybethat's it. Maybe its teaching the boy that we always cantake more than.