*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
**Author's Note: This is a flash story; not meant to be taken too seriously.
*.*.*
Ronnie Valpo entered Tommy's Po-Boys and sauntered up to the counter.
"Help you?" the young man behind the counter smiled.
"Regular roast beef, just gravy," Ronnie smiled. "And uh, small diet coke."
The young man showed Ronnie where to slide his debit card.
From his seat, Ronnie could see into the small video arcade Tommy had in the rear of the shop. There were seven video consoles; at present three of them were taken.
Two couples, boys and girls, had two of the machines. They were playing, but they really weren't concentrating on their games. They would touch each other, smile, laugh, and encourage each other, even as they competed.
And there was a young man, dressed in black jeans, black sleeveless tee shirt, and black motorcycle boots.
The outfit alone would have been fierce, fearsome, except for the boy was a scrawny kid.
Ronnie's name was called and he retrieved his meal.
One couple tired of their game and came out, holding hands.
"Get me an ice cream?" the girl cooed to the boy and he agreed.
The other couple continued to play, in between kisses. And the boy continued to play, even as he had to push his hair out of his eyes.
Ronnie finished his meal, then walked into the video room.
He selected the machine to the left of the solitary male. He saw that the scrawny boy was about eighteen or nineteen years old, with a somewhat handsome face, or it would have been handsome, if he didn't have that goofy mustache and goatee that a lot of young men mistakenly believed to be attractive.
Ronnie favored his own two day growth of whiskers. The blonde stubble gave his slightly pudgy face some definition, and looked good with his long blonde hair. His brown eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses; his eyes were extremely sensitive to fluorescent lights.
Within moments, he'd managed an impressive score, and was still going strong. The young couple walked out of the arcade area, chattering nonsense to each other, leaving Ronnie and the young man alone in the room.
The young man had lost at his game and was now watching as Ronnie deftly avoided a kill shot and took out yet another assassin.
"Damn; didn't even see his ass there," the young man said.
"Yeah, behind that rock like that; it hadn't moved, I wouldn't have seen him either," Ronnie admitted.
But the next assassin popped up from behind a wall and Ronnie's character went down.
""Grab the other," Ronnie said, nodding toward the controls.
He and the young man, Al, Albert Roberts played an energetic game.
"Well, that's it," Ronnie smiled when he'd annihilated Al's character. "Unless you got some more quarters?"
"Nope," Al shook his head.
"So, where you going from here? Your bike outside?" Ronnie asked, looking pointedly at Al's garb.
"No," Al smiled. "Probably just go on back to the dorm. You?"
"Me? Go back to my place, get out of these sweaty ass clothes," Ronnie said and looked around to verify that they were alone. "Spark up a couple of doobs and whack off to some porn."
Al laughed at Ronnie's words.
"You smoke?" Ronnie asked.
"Yeah, dude, had me some killer Bahama just the other night," Al lied.
Living in Sharp Shire dormitory at U.L.D. campus, he would not be able to get away with smoking marijuana.
"My shit's all home grown," Ronnie admitted. "Friend of mine does the hydroponics thing; fucking killer."
They left the sandwich shop, talking about marijuana in hushed tones.
"Dude!" Al said as he saw Ronnie's 1978 Corvette.
"Yeah," Ronnie smiled as he unlocked the passenger door for Al.
He drove them rapidly to his apartment complex, parked and punched in the code for the gate.
"Yeah, costs about twenty five more a month than the others around here, but dude, that gate? Keeps a lot of the shit out, know what I'm saying?" Ronnie said as the heavy gate clanged shut behind them. "Don't have to put up with 'will you buy raffle tickets for my school' or any of that shit."
He guided Al to Apartment 4A and unlocked the door.
Al looked around the one room studio with interest. One wall was solid bookcases, from floor to ceiling. There were several books, as well as several vinyl albums, a bulky stereo system occupying one corner, with small speakers throughout the apartment, and a flat screen television.
There was a coffee table and a futon, and one floor lamp and that was the extent of the furniture.
"Like I said, going get out of these sweaty ass clothes; just got in from off-shore," Ronnie said.
"No kidding?" Al asked. "What you do?"
"Welder," Ronnie said and began pulling off his shirt.
He revealed a muscled body, with six pack abdomen and quite hairy chest. He shimmied out of his jeans, revealing thick, muscled legs and narrow backside.
Al looked away, embarrassed as Ronnie casually dropped his boxer briefs to the floor and stuffed everything into a canvas bag.
"Couple of doobs on the coffee table; spark one up you want to," Ronnie said as he opened the door to a small bathroom. "Just going to grab a quick shower, all right?"
Al did light up one of the joints, taking a huge drag. The harsh smoke burned his throat and he fought against coughing.
Inside the shower stall, Ronnie did scrub off his sweat. He also lathered up his long hair with the floral shampoo he liked.
He would never use that shampoo off-shore; the men on the rig would razz him without mercy.
He imagined Al's pouty lips, imagined them wrapping around his fat cock, and imagined Al slurping hungrily at his meat.
The boy's skinny jeans did reveal that Al had a cute little backside; Ronnie imagined slamming his cock into Al's willing shit hole.
He used some floral shampoo to lubricate his meat.
"Argh!" Ronnie grunted under his breath as he blasted a hot load of spunk.
Then he rinsed off and got out.
He pulled up a pair of leopard print micro-briefs. The underwear was more of a novelty than anything; there was a zipper right in front, with a large pull tab.
Ronnie stepped out of the bathroom and saw that Al had nearly finished smoking the first joint.
"Good shit or what?" he asked, flopping down on the futon next to the young man.
"Yeah, shit's even better than that Bahama shit I had the other day," Al agreed, sticking to his lie.
"Like I said, smoke a couple of doobs, whack off to some porn," Ronnie said and grabbed his remote control.
The television sprang to life and a moment later, a blue screen appeared, then faded to black.
A scene of jail cell bars slamming shut came up. The speakers around the apartment gave a loud 'clang' and Ronnie adjusted the volume.
'Reform School Bitches' flashed on the screen as another jail cell bars slammed shut.
