Really and Truly
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2026 by Mat Twassel
Flash Sex Story: Sax player hits it off with members of the wedding party. Illustrated.
Caution: This Flash Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult BiSexual Hermaphrodite Fiction Interracial Illustrated .
We were in the teachers’ lounge, three-fifteen on a Friday afternoon, the school day done, the school week over. I was rinsing my mug. Thinking about whether it was worth trying to clean a stain off my blouse. Pacing near the door, the PE teacher, Mitchell Something-or-Other, was on his phone, listening, sighing. “I know, I know, okay, okay.” One more anguished sigh and he turned to me, phone hand hanging limply. “You know music, right?”
Our eyes met. Kind eyes. Worried. I nodded. Yeah, I know music. I taught it in the elementary district, rotating between three grade schools. Rarely did my path cross with Mitchell’s.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “I’m just ... It’s just ... Okay, I’m getting married this weekend. Tomorrow actually. Only forty guests if everyone shows up, but the band—they just cancelled. Some sort of ... I don’t know. Anyway, you wouldn’t happen to know a little band could play tomorrow evening? Seven to midnight or so? Or even a DJ I guess? I’m Mitchell, by the way. Mitch. I’m sorry, I’m just...” He smiled at me. An embarrassed smile. Touching.
“Yeah,” I said. “Congratulations. I mean on the marriage, not on losing the band. Anyway I could play for you if you want a solo sax. Cool Blues. Slow dance. Maybe mix in some frisky tunes along the way.”
“You could? I mean, that would be great. Really? You’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it,” I said. “If you want me.”
“I want you. Gosh do I want you.”
He gave me the address.
I arrived at the reception hall a few minutes before seven with dinner just finishing up, desserts being cleared away. Didn’t take much to set up, just unpacking my sax and selecting a reed. Mitchell and another guy in the wedding party got up from the front table and approached me. “You came!” Mitchell said. “You’re a life-saver. I can’t thank you enough. There won’t be a first dance or anything like that. Just play—whatever you want. Something people can dance to, you know?”
“Right,” I said. “Got it.” I looked at the other guy. Something about him. “Your best man?” I asked Mitch.
An embarrassed smile. “Ah, yeah, um, sorry, yes, my husband.”
“Randall,” the guy said. “Randy Jenkins.” We shook hands. Something about him.
“Oh my God. Randy Jenkins?”
“Sorry about the introductions,” Mitch said. “Yeah, Randy Jenkins, my best man. As of two hours ago, and forever after, my husband!”
“Great,” I said. “Guess what? Half a million years ago I babysat you. The summer you were almost one. You lived across the street.”
“Wow! That’s...” Randy said.
“It is,” I answered. “Four or five times. I changed your diapers and everything.”
“Wow,” Randy repeated.
I didn’t tell him that one time, after I’d cleaned him up, but before I could fasten the new diaper, he’d sprayed me. “What a naughty boy!” I’d scolded him at the time.
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