*Author's note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Disclaimers: Yes I need an editor; no, I do not want an editor. Yes there's too many people to keep track of, yes it jumps around too much, yes it's too long, yes it's too short, yes it's in the wrong category, yes it is stupid shit, and yes, I am a horrible writer, barely legible, barely literate.
For those of you that have not hit your backspace key, I hope you enjoy this flash tale.
*.*.*
To everyone that knew them, Thomas Bordelon and Michelle Aucoin were the perfect couple, the 'two peas in a pod.' Both had carrot orange hair, hers long and limp, his tightly coiled, both had a plethora of freckles on their pasty white skin, and both were fairly tall.
He played football, basketball and baseball. And she, being too ungainly to do the kicks and leaps and dances of the cheerleaders, sat in the bleachers and screamed.
Thomas hated, loathed being called 'Tommy' but Michelle was able to get away with it.
Shortly before high school graduation, after a fairly energetic bout of sex, Michelle dropped a little bomb on Thomas.
"I uh, my aunt? Well, she's actually my dad's aunt that would make her what? My great-aunt? Anyway, she had a fall so my dad's sister is staying there with her, but as soon as we graduate, I'm going there take care of her," Michelle said.
"Okay; where's she live?" Thomas asked after his disappointment wore off.
"Jackson," Michelle shrugged, pulling her tee shirt on over her bare breasts. "And since I'm thinking I want to be a nurse? This is like kind of right up my alley, right?"
A week after their graduation, Thomas and Michelle kissed each other good bye. With Michelle's father standing right there, shooting disapproving looks at Thomas, they kept the public display of affection to a minimum. Then she got into her dad's truck and Mr. Aucoin drove away.
At first they called, they texted each other almost hourly. Then, after two weeks, Michelle's accessibility began to slide. At four weeks, their nearly hourly contacts dwindled to once or twice every two days and were often short, terse.
So, five weeks after Michelle got into her father's truck to go to Jackson, Mississippi, Thomas jammed some clothes into an old nylon gym bag and bought a bus ticket to Jackson, Mississippi, to surprise his sweetheart.
The bus was crowded when it pulled to a stop in front of the DeGarde Inn. Thomas scanned the dimly lighted interior for a vacant seat and found none. He then saw a man wave him over to the empty seat next to him.
"Thanks," Thomas said to the handsome man.
"Welcome," the older man said.
The man had dark brown hair, with some flecks of gray, deep brown eyes with some crow's feet at the corners, and a strong, handsome face.
He was neatly dressed in pullover shirt and khaki slacks and suede loafers, with matching suede belt.
The bus pulled away and began the long journey north-east.
Twenty minutes into the trip, Buddy put his papers into a small attaché case and turned and smiled at Thomas.
"Hey there; I'm Buddy," he said, offering a meaty paw.
"Thomas," Thomas said, shaking the strong hand.
Thomas was grateful his seatmate was a talkative man. In his impetuous decision, he'd forgotten his IPad, and his phone showed low battery.
"So, where you headed?" Buddy asked.
"Jackson, see my girlfriend," Thomas admitted.
At Paulton, their last long stop before making the three and a half hour trek to Jackson, Mississippi, they munched on bus station sandwiches.
"So, you're just going to show up, unannounced?" Buddy asked.
"Uh, yeah," Thomas said.
He didn't want to say it out loud, but he was pretty sure Michelle had found herself a new boyfriend while helping her great-aunt. He planned to confront her, face to face.
"Hmm, be about twelve o'clock when we get there," Buddy said, glancing at his watch. "Cab ride, probably looking at twelve thirty, one o'clock by the time you get there. Pretty sure her aunt wouldn't appreciate you just popping up like that."
Thomas agreed with Buddy; it would be unwise to show up, unannounced on the doorstep at a late hour.
"Got a room already at the Cottage Inn," Buddy said. "Why not just crash there? Go see your sweetie in the morning."
"Sure, thanks!" Thomas agreed.
They dozed off and on during the bus trip east to Jackson.
Once in Jackson, Buddy guided the nearly catatonic young man to a cab and gave the driver the address.
In the lobby, Thomas sat heavily on a couch in the lobby while Buddy got a room key from the girl at the counter.
"Come on; we're in room two twenty one," Buddy said, waking Thomas from a slumber.
"'Bout time you got here," another man said when Buddy and Thomas entered the room.
"Uh huh," Buddy smiled. "Know how it is; damned bus has to stop at any town that has a light post, huh?"
Thomas noticed that the other man, a man in his late thirties, early forties, was dressed in only a pair of white cotton briefs, had a smooth muscular chest and muscled legs with a fine patina of dark hair. He was a handsome man, with light brown hair and light brown eyes and a broad smile on his tanned face.
"And who's this?" the other man asked, getting off the bed.
"Greg, this is Thomas; picked him up on the bus," Buddy said.
"Hey, Greg Morehouse," Greg said, shaking Thomas's hand.
"Thomas, why don't you grab a shower?" Buddy suggested and Thomas nodded, entering the small bathroom.
The warm water did revive him slightly and he made quick work of scrubbing off the road grime. Opening his gym bag, he saw yet another sign of his impetuous decision. He'd packed only a set of clean clothes for the next day, but no pajamas.
He shrugged and pulled on the clean underwear, a pair that Michelle had bought for him. They were bright red, the front panel attached to the rear panel of bright red by a thin red rope.
He used his finger to brush his teeth; at least he did remember to bring some toothpaste.
Then, with teeth gritted, he left the bathroom.
"Nice," Buddy complimented as he got off the bed.
Thomas goggled; both Buddy and Greg were now nude. And both men sported long, thick erections.
Greg had a smooth chest, but Buddy had a mat of dark hair covering chest and belly and legs.
"Going shower; Greg says I stink," Buddy said and entered the bathroom.
Greg smiled but said nothing as Thomas cautiously walked around the bed and got in on the other side.
There was no couch or chair in the room; the only furniture was the bed, a small nightstand and lamp, which glowed dully with its forty watt bulb, and a low dresser with flat screen television.
Thomas lay down and looked at the television.
His eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped open; on the screen was a young man being sodomized by another young man.
Thomas watched in mute fascination as the two men grunted and groaned over the horrible synthesizer music.
"I'm going come, I'm going come," one of the men said.
"Oh yeah, the other man groaned.
Greg leisurely stroked his cock as the young man pulled his cock out of the other young man's ass and began squirting an obscene amount of semen onto the back and ass of his friend.
The scene changed to show one young man on all fours, a large cock in his mouth and another large cock in his ass.
