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A Gift From The Stars Ch. 01

By: JohnAphros



It was a cruel oversight on their part that Rick and Jill Tom named their boy Thomas. He would thereafter be mocked by other boys, as Tom Tom. And so, his childhood was peppered with unending ridicule: muted drumming of fingers on books and beneath desks whenever he'd answer a question in class, feathers left in his books and derisive references to "Injun Tom" when Tom Tom wasn't sufficiently insulting, causing Thomas to retreat from others and become a loner.

During his high school years, the drumming would be taken up by one of the class clowns, then by others, "Tom, tom, tom, tom; Tom, tom, tom, tom; Tom, tom, tom, tom..." and so it went until Thomas had answered the question.

Over time, though he knew the answers to most of his teacher's questions, Thomas found ways to avoid answering them by slouching out of sight or hunching over a notebook, while pretending to take notes. Because he dutifully completed his homework, tended to score high Bs and low As on exams, and due to the drumming that arose whenever he was called upon, his teachers were eventually conditioned to ignore him, which is what Thomas sought. More than anything, he wanted anonymity.

Other than his unfortunate class nickname -- one neither he nor his parents chose for him -- Thomas was otherwise an ordinary boy who'd just turned 18, intelligent though not brilliant, athletic though playing no sport, and good looking, though without girlfriends. He was, in a word, utterly forgettable. He had no friends and sought none. Girls similarly avoided him, as what image-sensitive teenage girl would want a boyfriend who was the joke of the school?

His senior yearbook picture said it all. Beneath his portrait, a description read as follows, "Thomas, known as 'Tom Tom,' is an avid hiker and backpacker, having climbed several peaks. He plans to travel following graduation."

Thomas planned to travel, because he wanted to get as far away from Middleton High School as possible. To avoid others, he had no plans to attend college or a trade school, to join the military or a monastery. Those all required dealing with other people and Thomas just wanted to be left alone.

At spring break, Thomas had planned just such a trip, a backpacking trip across the wild open spaces of Nevada. He planned to explore the Great Basin wilderness, carrying light backpacking gear and with no one around to bother him. His plan was to ride his old motorbike on U.S. 50, the loneliest highway in America, park it somewhere safe yet hidden near park headquarters, then spend spring break hiking across the park, while climbing a few of its lonely peaks, before returning to his last few months of captivity as a senior at Middleton High.

Thomas had told no one, not even his parents, where he would be going while on spring break. With mostly As and a few Bs and never a reason to question him, Jill and Rick Tom had gotten used to Thomas' frequent backpacking trips. The only aspiration he'd ever told them was that he hoped to solo hike the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada, some day. So, when he said he'd like their permission to go backpacking during spring break, they didn't question where he planned to go and just said, "You've worked so hard, you deserve it."

Near the end of his week in the park, Thomas sat alone on the western slope of Granite Peak at the southern end of the Great Basin Wilderness, filled with peace and gazing up at a clear, black sky that was airbrushed with trillions of points of light. He'd started his hike near Pyramid Peak in the middle of the park, then traveled south to Mount Washington and Lincoln Peak before setting camp on his fourth day in the park at Granite Peak. The isolation and peace had so filled him that he considered, for a moment, never leaving, though he knew there was little way to survive for long in so remote a place on the scant supplies he'd carried with him.

As he considered how he might find a way to live a life of solitude in so remote a place, he noticed a green light that seemed to be growing in intensity far off above the horizon of peaks that lay beyond the park. In what seemed to be a moment, the light brightened to greenish-blue as it streaked toward Granite Peak.

Seconds before the light was to crash into the mountain, Thomas dove for the cover of a large boulder, which lay between his campsite and the crashsite, a hundred yards away. Thomas lay curled into a ball pressed against the backside of the boulder, his arms crossed over his head, as if mere flesh and bone could protect him from the force of the impending crash.

The blue streak light slammed into the mountain, then bounced upward skidding along its flank in a firey trail of blue, white and green phosphorescent light, setting off a deafening thud and shaking the mountain so that boulders and rocks shook loose and tumbled down its slopes. Thomas closed his eyes tightly as pebbles and debris fell across a wide area, momentarily deafened by the noise of the crash.

A moment later, peace had returned to Granite Peak. A few brush were aflame and smoke and dust hung in the air, but these would die down as the occasional bush was consumed. Yet, during that moment, the air smelled of fireworks, cordite and dirt, until blown away by the mountain breeze. The crackling and popping of dry brush being consumed by fire soon died away. Within an hour, all that could be sensed of the crash site was a faint glow of burning embers and a lingering carbon smell.

"Wha, the hell?!" Thomas said to himself, then tried to put the incident in perspective. He'd witnessed a meteor hit Earth and lived to tell about it, he reasoned. In the morning, he'd go check it out, though for the rest of the night, he would spent if fitfully, leaning against the boulder shivering and unable to move.

As dawn began to paint the sky pink, long shadows kept the west slope of Granite Peak obscured. Thomas stood shakily and walked around the boulder to see what remained of the meteor. To his astonishment, the crumpled form of a silver-grey craft lay a hundred yards away. A blackened skid of charred rock and brush led from the impact point where it sat, steaming. A door on the side of the craft was bent open and a body lay half out of the craft.

"Ohmigod!" Thomas shouted, then took off running toward the craft. As he ran, the craft became clearer to him despite the shadows. It was some sort of military aircraft, though one he hadn't seen before. Its wings and tail had apparently been torn from the main body of the craft and had disintegrated. "They test these nearby, don't they?" Thomas thought to himself. As he approached the craft, he weaved his way through large boulders, similar to the one he'd hidden behind. As he came around one, he saw that the craft was now about 25 yards away. The body was now recognizable, causing Thomas to stop suddenly. His eyes widened with recognition. It was a Grey.

Greys are a type of alien lifeform with large heads and eyes and skinny bodies. He'd seen guys wear Grey costumes, with their rubber masks, and silver cloaks during Halloween. Thomas never dressed up for Halloween, as that would mean socializing with those who ridiculed him. He thought, "Boy, will they ridicule me now, once I've said I saw a UFO and the body of a Grey!"

The Grey was slumped out of the door of the craft on his back, his large eyes clouded, his mouth open as if gasping for air. "Do they breathe our air?" Thomas thought to himself? He stood for a moment looking at the body, then say that lights were still blinking inside the craft. He then moved slowly toward it. As he did, it was obvious that the Grey in the doorway was dead, clearly dead. This would be the evidence UFO hunters had often sought, an actual craft and body of an alien from outer space.

As Thomas came nearer to the craft, he could hear lyrical tones softly sounding. Looking inside, he saw that the craft's control panels were covered with writing, a type of hygroglyphics similar to what Egyptians or the Mayans used, only the oddly shaped polygonal characters were colored and glowing. Some changed from cool colors to warmer ones as he touched the side of the craft. It had cooled, though was still warm to the touch. "Stupid," he thought, "what if I'd burned myself?"

The craft was badly damaged, crushed at points. The colored characters and the warm sunrise light filtering into the cabin illuminated yet another Grey who was lying. thrown to the side, his harness still holding him to his seat, a gelatinous bright yellow cup that seemed to form to his body. The second Grey also seemed to be dead. It appeared as if he'd been working to remove a device from a cavity that bore its polygonal shape. The Grey's grip had loosened from the device and it lay in the craft, glowing blue and pulsing green.

Thomas leaned forward to take the device from the craft and as he was about to grab it, the eyes of the Grey inside the craft opened. The Grey made an expression of surprise and pain, holding up his hand as if to warn Thomas not to touch the device. Startled, yet committed, Thomas reached in quickly and grabbed it.

Thomas was suddenly stiffened by a force that coursed through his body, freezing him in place as an invisible current of thought ran through every one of his cell and synapses. It was as if an overwhelmingly bright, green-blue light was filling him with knowledge and power carried to Earth across millennia and from a more powerful world. His body pulsed with energy, then the surge overcame him and he collapsed, still holding the device.

When he became conscious again, minutes later, he emerged from a stupor to see that the injured Grey inside the craft was slowly pressing polygonal buttons. Each lit a different color, until the last. When he touched it with his long, spindly fingers, all the buttons within the craft turned from greenish-blue and purple to yellow, then orange, then red. As they did, they began flashing, slowly at first, but then faster. The Grey turned to look at this earthling with apparent sadness.

Thomas realized the lights indicated a countdown. He stood hesitantly, holding the device. The Grey reached out as if to indicate that Thomas should give the device to him, though Thomas turned and began to run.

At the first boulder, 25 yards away, he looked back. The Grey's hand was extended toward him, palm facing him and those long fingers pointed upwardly. Then, the Grey slowly clenched his hand, looked down dejectedly and gestured toward Thomas by flicking his hand away, as if to say, "Run!" And, Thomas did. He ran like he had never run before.

As Thomas ran, he could hear a type of mournful music building, quiet at first, then increasing in tone and intensity. As he neared the large boulder that had protected him from the crash, the tone was still audible and now stretching out into a single tone. Thomas dove again behind the boulder that sheltered him from the crash as everything around him turned blue then white.

He shut his eyes, held the device close to his body and cowered behind the huge rock as streams of blue-white light shot from the craft, brightening the mountainside, then imploded back into it with one sucking wheeze of a sound. Then nothing.

Thomas lay curled up behind the boulder, seemingly for minutes on end. Then, standing up, he saw that the rest of his gear, his tent, sleeping bag and stove, had evaporated. Half the boulder was gone as well, as if it had been eaten away by acid. White ash led from the crash site in all directions. Nothing was left of the craft or the Greys. There was no evidence they'd ever been there, save the small device he cradled in his arms. With the destruction of the craft, the device seemed to have lost all power. It no longer glowed blue or green, though its dark metal carried a greenish-blue iridescence when bathed in the morning light.

Thomas looked around the camp. He glimpsed a bit of red peeking behind a shattered boulder. It was his pack where he'd leaned it the previous evening. Somehow it had survived, though nothing else remained. Thomas stood surveying the scene for a moment, then feeling hunger, he placed the device into the pack beneath soiled clothing, hung the pack over his shoulders and began the long slow walk back.

Two hours down the mountain, he heard the tell-tale whirr, whirr, whirr of a helicopter. The event had not gone unnoticed by other visitors and staff had been alerted. They'd sent out a rescue helicopter.

The helicopter crew had seen no one else on Granite Peak. Thomas was its sole visitor... just as he'd planned. He was flown to park headquarters where he was debriefed about the "meteor." Thomas described that he was awake when he saw the meteor approaching and was lucky to have sheltered himself behind a large boulder that was partly incinerated by the crash. He said that upon rising from behind the rock, the scene was as he left it, charred white and devoid of any remains of the meteor. Near daybreak, the remains of the red-hot meteor began making noises and he was so close to it, that he worried it might explode. So, he again hid behind the rock, just as it exploded. That, he said, was the bright light all had seen from within the park.

They accepted his description, made sure he wasn't injured and insisted that he stay. Thomas spent another four hours doing what he hated most, explaining to others what he'd lived through. Why couldn't they all just leave him alone, including the park employee who introduced himself as a freelance writer? As a minor, Thomas argued with park officials that his parents be called. When they did call them, his parents asked that he be allowed to return home and officials relented. Later that morning, he retrieved his motorcycle from where he'd parked it and took off for the return ride to Middleton on U.S. 50.

For a short while after his return, Thomas was a sort of hometown celebrity, described by the freelancer in his National Enquirer article as the rare survivor of a meteor. There was, of course, the obligatory sidebar story about the odd things that happen in the desert, UFO sightings, Area 51. The Enquirer even used the drawing of a Grey, when a UFO hunter patrolling elsewhere in Nevada claimed to have seen a UFO that evening, though the U.S. Air Force denied anything unusual had been sensed.

To the scientists and naturalists of the National Park Service, it was a celestial event, but a more mundane one... just a spectacular meteor whose impact site would forever more be studied by scientists. The impact area on Granite Peak was made off limits so that university researchers could study it, though nothing would be found, other than the crumpled and melted remnants of one of Thomas' aluminum water bottles.

As for Thomas, his name would forever be linked to the meteor crash, as the backpacker who happened to be on the mountain the night it hit. He soon disappeared into obscurity and wasn't even mentioned in news articles a year later when local papers mentioned its anniversary and interviewed the park superintendent over what scientists had learned, since. A lot of nothing, would be his reply. It remained a mystery.

However, unseen changes were also beginning to form within Thomas, ones that meant he was never the same after the impact, and yet he was just beginning to recognize that it had changed him. The one thing that was outwardly certain, was that the event forever changed Thomas' nickname from Tom Tom to T&T.

The contradiction of Thomas' explanation of the colorful and explosive meteor impact, in contrast to his reclusive manner, caused the Enquirer writer make the teen seem more interesting than he was and he chose to refer to Thomas Nelson Tom as "TNT" in the article. The nickname took and soon others began calling him TNT. Thomas liked it better than what his antagonists used to call him and accepted the new nickname, though he'd always be "Thomas" to his parents.

A Gift From The Stars Ch. 02



Thomas had noticed the change, the moment he'd boarded the rescue helicopter. Despite the headset the helicopter crew had given him to wear, he could hear voices as if he could hear the crew's thoughts. For the first day, he thought it was just residual ringing in his ears from the deafening roar of the impact, though it was unsettling that he could hear the voices though wearing headsets that deafened the sound of the chopper.

At park headquarters it was worse. Not only was he being asked questions, but he imagined he could hear others forming their own unasked questions and statements, "Ask him if he has any burns," "Does he know how long it took from the meteor to hit until it exploded?" "Damn, she's hot," "Make sure you get his contact information." "Geez, I've been on duty since last night, when will this goddamn shift end?"

So, when he was finally freed to leave, it was a relief to get away from all the voices. As he rode further away from the park headquarters, they began to dwindle, though a light hum of voices remained coursing through his head, to his great annoyance. Once on Hwy 50, they finally stopped. He could ride miles at a time without passing another vehicle or town. Anxious to get down the road, he opened up his bike and saw its speed increase... 70, 75, 80, 85, 90 miles per hour. Soon he was topping 110. With nothing ahead for miles on end, he finally felt at peace, the hum of the motor was a sound he enjoyed.

Then, just as suddenly, he sensed danger overhead. Miles away, a state trooper helicopter was patrolling and somehow, he knew it. Thomas slowed down, despite the patrol chopper not being visible and the road being empty as far as the eye could see. Moments later, a yellow Ferrari came roaring up from behind and passed with a roar. "You'd better slow down, pal," Thomas thought and just as he did the tail lights on the Ferrari glowed red and the car slowed to his pace. Five minutes later, the helicopter passed over the Ferrari and Thomas, its pilot wondering to himself whether some CB operator had warned them about his approach.

Once in the clear, Thomas cranked back on the throttle and rocketed past the Ferrari, its driver still compelled to hold the speed limit. Thomas grinned as he passed and communicated, "You're good to go, fella," then goosed his bike ahead of the sportcar, which also accellerated.

It was late afternoon when Thomas pulled into Austin, Nevada. A few seconds later, the Ferrari sped past toward what would be a sure ticket at Mount Airy Summit. Thomas noticed the voices almost immediately. Though there was no one at the pumps, he could read thoughts coming from points all around the small town of Austin. An older woman was watching her favorite soap opera, a mechanic was having trouble rebuilding an engine, a waitress was emptying old coffee from the maker, a couple were having a noisy affair in room five at the Austin Motor Court, and the 19-year-old girl inside the mini market at which Thomas had stopped was thinking about the disgusting things her boyfriend liked to do.

"Fucking blow him when he's driving? He thinks I'm gonna do that!? Fuckin' loser. The first chance I get, I'm getting' out of this town. Now, who's this dweeb walking in? Another fuckin' loser. Geez, why couldn't the driver of that Ferrari have stopped, instead. I'd have ridden his rocket for a ride to LA, fer sure," she seemed to be thinking. As, Thomas found that if he concentrated on one stream of thought, what else was being thought could be filtered.

The girl turned to him and said, disinterestingly and without meaning it, "Can I help you?" She was chewing gum and leaning against a rack of cigarette packs, her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail by a purple scrunchy. The points of her nipples pushed the white t-shirt she wore out, distorting the craft beer ad on the shirt so it could not be read. The shirt's tail was pulled together below her medium-sized, firm breasts and tied into a knot, revealing her flat stomach that was accented by a pierced innie with a blue gemstone in it. She wore cut off jeans that were ragged around the edges. From their frayed cuffs, her tanned, slim and long legs were crossed casually. The many colors of some type of parrot were tattooed on one of her calves above an ankle that was circled by a gold chain. She wore flip flops and her toes and fingernails were painted sparkly green.

Thomas turned toward her as he entered the store. She was unsmiling, despite her stated welcome. He heard her think, "loser."

"Geez, could you at least smile?" Thomas thought to himself, then saw her full lips break into a smile, though the rest of her body language was still indifferent and hostile. It was that projected thought that made Thomas realize he had the ability to both read minds and move them. "Relax" he directed to her, and she responded. "You're feeling better, actually warming up to this biker. He's good looking. Swallow your gum and straighten yourself up."

The girl gulped, the double stick of Bubble Yum slid down her throat painfully. She stood up and leaned forward and smiled naturally.

"You think he's hot. You're getting wet. You want him," Thomas sent to her.

She licked her lips and said, "Hi, I'm Holly." She arranged herself, pushing up her breasts and pressing her groin against the edge of the counter.

"You got Slim Jims?" Thomas asked matter of factly.

"Mmmm, of course," she cooed, "let me show you." Turning sideways, she sat on the counter, lifted her legs so that her knees pressed against her boobs and she spun over the plexiglass counter, spinning her tight ass over cancelled lottery tickets exhibited beneath the plexi and dropping down onto her feet, her flip flops making a flapping sound. She stood close to Thomas, her breath smelled sweetly of the watermelon bubble gum she'd just swallowed. Holly leaned back arching the tips of her breasts so that they pressed against his arm and looked up at him adoringly, her big green eyes imploring his attention as she said, "The jerky treats are over here."

Thomas decided to try something more forceful, extreme, in ways he'd never spoken to a girl, before. "You want him, you want this biker like you've never wanted a man before. You ache for him. You're getting hot, dripping hot. Your cunnie is growing wet, sooo wet. You want his dick inside you. You want to hold it and lick it and suck his balls until his prick gets hot and hard, filled with his blood, then massage it with hand cream until he spews his spunk all over your face... and you'll love it, when he does, because from now to any man you're with you're a cum dump. Austin's easy lay. The girl who'll do anything to please a man and this biker who just walked into the store is the man you want to please most of all. When he is near, he is everything. No one else exists but him. You are his love slave," Thomas projected to Holly.

The girl groaned and leaned into him, a hand moving to her cunnie and massaging it as her panties grew wet. "Unh, wha, what are you, what are you doing to me?" she struggled to say. "Ppplease, take me here. I'm yours. You can have me." Holly unsnapped the button at the fly on her cut offs, then reached for Thomas' groin and fumbled with his belt and zipper.

"What are you doing!?" he exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, I, I..." Holly stood there confused.

He thought to her, "You can't help yourself, you're getting wetter and aroused, more and more aroused. You want his dick inside your mouth, to taste his precum, to lick his shaft, to suck on his balls. You want to arouse it, see it stiffen, know you made it grow warm and stiff. You have to have it inside you. Need to grind upon him, ride atop him, milking his cock of cum until its white heat floods the end of your cervyx. You will beg, beg him to give himself to you."

Holly again went for his fly and zipped it down, her hand reaching in and pulling his penis out. "Ppplease, I want you, I need you. Fuck me. Fuck me here. Fuck me now. Let me taste your seed. I want to suck on you, to make you full." She begged.

The game was beginning to work its wonders on his prick, engorging it, though when Holly dropped to her knees and began kissing, licking and gently massaging the shaft, it stiffened quickly. She placed its head to her full lips and flicked it with her tongue, swirling her tongue around the head, then wrapping her lips around it and taking it into her mouth and smearing her lipstick around its length as her tongue continued to lap at his prick. She sucked, then licked down the shaft to his balls, taking them into her mouth and sucking.

"Touch yourself," he directed. "Make yourself wet. You've never been this horny, never wanted anyone so much, so badly. From now on, you'll never think it disgusting to please a man, you'll crave it and make the man you're with the happiest man alive. Right now, you are getting hotter and hotter, your pussy is throbbing with anticipation. You want him inside you, to fuck you here and now on the counter, on the floor, in the aisles, by the ice freezer, and the chips. You want him. You want him. You want him. Rub yourself, but you can't cum until he allows you to cum."

Holly's hand was jammed down the front of her cutoffs and beneath her white satin bikini panties. She massaged two slick fingers into her cunnie past the G spot as her mind reeled in pleasure, so close to orgasm, but fenced from it, painfully.

"God! I want you! Please fuck me, please fuck me now! I want you inside of me," she pled, then took Thomas' cock into her mouth and bobbed over it as she sucked.

"Forty dollars on pump three," a woman said, not at first noticing what Holly was performing on the man in leathers, whose pants had fallen to his knees. "Ohmigod!" she exclaimed as she turned abruptly to leave the store.

"Stay and watch," Thomas instructed. The woman stopped and turned. "You like watching. It turns you on and you will touch yourself to relieve that desire." he continued. The woman's mouth opened and Thomas could hear her breathing heavily. The woman was in her mid-thirties, attractive and slender, light brown hair and brown eyes, wearing a shift dress, no underwear (it was a hot day) and pumps. She was likely some local mom out doing errands, including gassing up the car.

"Do you live in Austin?" Thomas asked the woman. "Just out of town, she replied."

"Are you married?" he asked. "Un huh," she replied, while nodding and continuing to watch Holly blowing Thomas and fingering herself.

"Do you like sex?" he continued. "Not really," she answered.

"You do now," Thomas instructed. "From now on you can't get enough sex. You will blow your husband off each night and fuck his brains out, letting him fuck you in the ass and whatever perverse fantasy he desires. And you'll love it. Is that clear?" Thomas asked.

"Un huh," she nodded, still watching Holly suck, lick and finger.

"And when you come into town for gas, Holly here will blow you off, won't you Holly?" Thomas said. Holly nodded, while continuing to suck, "And you and Holly will be secret lovers, and you will both love loving one another. You will pleasure each other, sucking and fingering and fucking one another with dildos and vibrators and sex toys that you will buy off the internet. Although you will do all you can to please the men in your lives, sex will never be better than it is with me or with each other, do you both understand?"

Holly groaned as she massaged herself, then blubbered as she sucked, "Un huh." The woman nodded.

"When I leave here, you will never speak of this and will discover that you crave one another. You will know instinctively, that you're meant to be passionate lovers. You will never tell anyone of your passion for one another and you will only have sex with each other here in the convenience store when there no one else is around and when one of the two of you invites the other to her house to pleasure her man with her. You will each keep yourself in shape for each other and your men, is that clear?" The woman said, "Yes," and Holly nodded.

"Now, come over here and help Holly remove her shorts, then get on your knees, finger yourself and lick my balls while Holly sucks my cock. Clean up whatever drips. We don't want to make a mess," Thomas said to the woman who complied.

A moment later, he savored the feel of the woman's tongue lapping at his balls, as Holly sucked while fingering herself. The sensation caused Thomas to blow his wad, filling Holly's hungry mouth with semen whose excess dripped from the corner of her mouth. The woman instinctively cleaned the excess from Holly's lips and chin, while trying to insert her tongue between Holly's full rosey lips to clean it further of his spunk.

"Holly, stand and go over to the counter. Lean over it, presenting your ass towards me, while your new friend cleans me up and gets me hard again," Thomas commanded. "Holly, you now want my cock more than ever. Keep fingering yourself until I get there. (Holly groaned erotically) And you, what is your name," he said to the woman. "Janet," she responded.

"Janet, are you wet down there, yet?," he asked. She nodded. "Then keep fingering yourself and lick my cock clean of any cum and suck it as we go over to Holly. You will think my cum and Holly's juices to be the most delicious fluids you've ever had and will savor every drop of them. You're now more aroused than you've ever been in your life, Janet. One orgasm after another is building within your soaking wet pussy and they can only be released with Holly's touch, do you understand?" She moaned and rubbed herself frantically, while sucking on Thomas' hardening prick as he moved towards the counter where Holly stood spread eagled, Janet crab walked beside Thomas, licking and sucking, occasionally fingering herself.

Janet continued to lap and suck at Thomas' dick. "How could she ever have thought sex to not be enjoyable?," she wondered.

"Holly, stay bent over, but move back from the counter placing only your hands on its edge. Janet, kneel between Holly and the counter, facing me, continuing to lick the head of my prick as you guide it into Holly's pussy. Once it is in, continue licking between Holly's pussy and my balls. Thomas positioned his engorged prick at the entrance to Holly's box.

Janet guided Thomas' shaft into Holly's snatch, stroking it as it entered and licking Holly's labia. Thomas began reaming his prick into Holly, who was now nearly comatose with arousal. Beneath her, Janet kept pace with the pounding.

Thomas humped the pretty convenience store clerk, pulling on her pony tail as he rammed her over and over. Just as he was about to cum, he pulled out. "Guide me into her ass," he told Janet who maneuvered his sopping prick to the entrance to Holly's bunghole. Then, grasping Holly by her thin waist and pelvis, he thrust his cock into her virgin anus, exerting a gasp from Holly, as Janet moved the ministrations of her tongue to Holly's exposed labia. Holly's knuckles turned white from gripping the counter so strongly.

Thomas came in great heaving spurts while pulling Holly's pony tail so far back he could almost look into her mouth to see her lolling tongue and hear her sobbing and pleading to be allowed to cum, as well. He collapsed across her back, his prick falling from her bunghole, only to immediately feel the sensation of Janet lapping at it seeking the sweet flavor of the threads of cum that hung from it.

"Both of you, clean me up," Thomas said as the two women, now both frantically rubbing themselves kneeled in front of him, licking his prick clean of the taste of Holly's bung hole. "That's the best tasting shit, you've ever had," he said to their distress, as they realized they were cleaning up what had Holly hadn't yet shit. "From now on, both of you love the taste of each other's shit and will gladly clean it form any man's dick." The women smiled and lapped frantically at his pecker, savoring each lick.

"OK, you done good, ladies. You can touch yourselves and bring yourselves off." he said while pulling up his pants as Holly and Janet pounced upon one another like cats on prey. Their orgasms were immediate and loud, "Oh God, I'm, I'm God, I'm cum, cum, cummmming! Eeeeaaaaghhhh!", one then the other exclaimed. The women continued to finger, lick and kiss one another, as they experienced orgasm after orgasm, the best they'd ever had in their lives.

By the time they'd finished satisfying themselves, Thomas had brought a bottle of Hawaiian Fruit Punch, a bag of corn nuts and an extra-long Slim Jim to the counter. Holly was disheveled, her t-shirt had ridden up above her pert boobs and her cut offs where hanging from one ankle. Janet had only to stand up for the shift dress to hang back as normal, though her hair and makeup were mussed up and her dress was stained and smelled of cum, saliva and sweat.

"Back to normal, as if nothing happened." Thomas commanded, "You all just forgot what happened, but you will not forget what I told you," At that, Holly was again indifferent and hostile.

Janet announced, "I said forty dollars on pump three."

Turning to me, Holly said, "That'll be $7.23 for the drink, nuts and meat stick,"

"How appropriate," Thomas replied. "Here's ten. Keep the change, the service was more than worth it."

His comment generated quizzical looks from Holly and Janet, the latter of whom then reached out to pull down Holly's shirt. "Your shirt's ridden up, dear. My kid's just outside," she said. They both became newly aroused as Janet's finger brushed Holly's breast. They knew instinctively they'd both be meeting in the back office someday, soon.

Thomas smiled as he listened to Holly and Janet's horny thoughts as they lingered in the store and met one another for what they thought was the first time. Then, he put on his helmet, stepped over the bike and took off for Carson City on his return to Middleton.