Author's Note:
STOP!!!
If you've read most of my stories before, you should probably be warned that THIS ONE IS DIFFERENT. This story has a bisexual story line. If male/male activities are not your thing, you probably won't like this one. Oh well; I'll catch you next time.
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Disclaimer: This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that, to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law. No animals were harmed in the manufacture of this product.
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Sandy ran a hand through her hair one more time then pulled it back into a ponytail. She was wearing her usual "going to get her hair done" outfit, jeans and sweatshirt, but today she felt a little self conscious about it - after all, technically she was going to a "spa".
Someone in Houston or Dallas or Austin (the place changed every time she heard the story) had come up with the idea; outfit a monster Winnebago like a day spa and travel between a group of small towns on a regular schedule, bringing "big city pampering" as the slogan went. Sandy and her friends all snorted at the idea at first, but one by one they'd each gone and all raved about it. Everyone, that is, except Sandy, who'd held out until now, when she'd gotten a gift certificate this past Mothers' Day.
She drove down to the supermarket, which was the closest pickup point to her house. Not only did the spa roll from town to town, it also stopped at various places within a town to reach as many people as possible. You could get picked up and dropped off at any of them. She parked her car, locked it, and leaned against the door, waiting. It was warmer than she liked, and it wasn't long before her clothes clung uncomfortably to her. She tried to adjust them but nothing seemed to work; she wished she'd worn another outfit.
While she pulled at her bra and tried to get comfortable a shadow fell across the car. She looked up and saw the most garish thing she'd ever laid eyes on. Big and pink, it looked like a pastry on steroids. The driver's compartment was darkened so she couldn't see in, and the side door had been removed. It was bigger than other trailers she'd seen before, as wide as two cars and as long as three. There were no windows except up front, and "Heaven Help Us", the name of the spa, was etched in glittery paint across the side.
