Date: Fri, 28 Feb 2003 04:10:46 -0500 From: Jamie Haze Subject: DOOBY rhymes with Scooby Part 7 Dooby rhymes with Scooby Part 7 By Jamie Haze "Lane Fulton? Yeah, he's a pretty cool dude," Dooby told Jennifer after she asked his opinion of Dooby's class and teammate. They were in Dooby's bed and he'd just slipped his upper body off Jennifer's, pleased to discover he could and still remain inside her. He rested his head on her arm and idly played with her budding breasts. "Did you notice how he managed to trip me accidentally on purpose? His timing was perfect and we couldn't even practice. I told him what he needed to do if he was in position at just the right moment, and zap he did it. Why the sudden interest in Lane?" "Because we're going on a date silly. I was hoping you liked him. He thinks you're a pretty cool dude too in case you're interested." Jennifer answered with a tiny giggle. Dooby had been drowsy, he was tired from the Lacrosse match, too much pizza, then after he got home the faint aroma of brownies lured him to finish his usual bedtime snack and finally Jennifer easily managed to get him off twice in less than thirty minutes after she joined him in his bed after lights out. Suddenly he was awake and alert. "A date? You mean like this? This kind of date?" He was mildly incredulous, "How are you going on a date, on his bike? You'll look like idiots and you'll get caught, just like we'll get caught if you keep coming upstairs." A tickle of fear entered his voice and he wilted to the point he popped out. "Damn!" Jennifer mourned and kissed her brother's nose. "I know that, about us I mean. Not a date really, I just invited him to come over and swim. Didn't you see me sitting in the booth with him?" "I guess. So? Did he ask you for a date?" "Of course not, he was definitely not interested, not at first. He blushes so easily," Jennifer giggled. "I watched all of you at the end. Why do you always take off your shits anyway?" Then without giving Dooby a chance to answer that it seemed to be a tradition among soccer players and it was spontaneous after their first match, "But I'm glad you do. I was shopping for a worthy replacement and I picked Lane. His body is a lot like yours and he has an interesting bulge in front, you know his thing. When we got in the pizza shop I kind of slipped into the seat along side him before anyone else could get to him. Of course he knows I'm your sister," she frowned, "you must have a code like; look but don't touch a teammate's sister." She giggled again, "He got interested when I put my hand on his leg. After he got over that shock and his face changed from red to pink, he moved his leg so it touched mine and kept it there all night. He has more hair on his legs than you." "Everyone in the world has more hair everywhere than I do, except Uncle Tommy. I think it's something about being blond." Dooby agreed morosely. "So? Get to the point, he actually asked you?" "Nope, I asked him. Didn't you see the mess he made when he spilled his Coke? That was when I asked him while I groped him," Jennifer announced proudly. "He was only half hard at first, but by the time he said yes he was all the way up there. You might be interested in knowing that he's as big as you and I don't think he wears underwear either." "He doesn't." Jennifer frowned in the candlelight, "How do you know? You didn't get to him already did you?" Dooby rolled his eyes, "Duh, locker room, undress, dress, remember?" "Oh, sorry, I'm so suspicious, but you my darling brother are just too good looking, you managed to nail Uncle Tommy, Christian and Cory so quickly." Dooby winced, "Guys can't nail other guys unless they want to be nailed. We can sort of tell just by looking somehow, it's called gaydar, and nailed sounds kind of crude, hooking up sounds better. You know if you start screwing around, what happens if you get pregnant? I could even get you pregnant, I really need to start wearing a condom if you'd ever give me a chance to put one on." "I know, just not yet you can't, but that's why you really have to stop." "ME? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you are in my bed, I'm not in yours. I didn't chase you up those stairs and make you give me a blow job." "Now who's being crude? I had to experiment just a little, I don't want Lane to think I'm experienced, just kind of naturally good at it." Dooby giggled, "Thanks a heap. We're just lucky I didn't have to go to the hospital for a transfusion after your first try, all so Lane doesn't show up in the locker room with Band-Aids on his lacerations. Now tell me how you plan to nail him without mom catching you?" Jennifer elbowed Dooby indignantly but giggled with him, "I wasn't that bad. If you think about it, mom isn't home at least half of every day. She goes shopping, to the spa, out for lunch with friends, wherever. Daddy never comes home during the day and Artie will be working for him as usual so he won't be around, and even if someone is home we could always go for a walk in the woods or we could just go to Lane's house when he knows no one is going to be home. He lives close by too, another point in his favor. That will work won't it?" Dooby didn't answer. Jennifer sat up and looked at his face. He was asleep. She ran her hand lightly down his body and patted his flaccid cock lovingly before she tiptoed back down the staircase. "Men!" She thought with a smile, "If Lane ever falls asleep like that while I'm talking to him, he'll need more than Band-Aids on his thing." She pictured a generic erection in a cast then wondered idly about the difficulty of actually making a casting to create a life-like dildo for those in between times when she was alone with her imagination. Tom occasionally glanced in the rearview mirror on the way home. Charlie held Laura's hand on the seat between them; they were restricted by their seatbelts. Cory at first risked a glance back at them and when he saw that their attentions were fixed on each other as they talked too quietly to be heard, he looked back frequently and openly. Charlie caught him once and winked at him. Tom thoughtfully drove into his own driveway first and left Charlie to drive Cory and his mother to their house. Laura sat in the back by herself since the distance was too short to play musical seats. Cory wiggled in his seat so his mother couldn't see his broad smile at Charlie, "Say Gramps, have you got time to come in for a night cap?" He asked boldly. Laura joined Cory with a smile that included her son for his thoughtfulness, "Yes please, it's still early," she encouraged even though they all knew it wasn't. Charlie happily allowed himself to be convinced. Cory planned a case of sleeping sickness after they were inside the house, but was delighted to see it wasn't necessary. They left him standing at the foot of the stairs after a peck on the cheek from his mother and a hearty squeeze on the back of the neck by Charlie that moved him up the first step, both to wish him good night and to thank him without words for his obvious approval of their budding relationship. Christian sat at his desk, the huge library table. His parents had already gone to bed by the time he arrived home. He thought that was a little unusual, his father usually waited for him in the kitchen to talk over a match just finished, particularly if the Marauders were victorious. He looked forward to the Monday morning quarterback sessions over bowls of cold cereal. He was working on the sketch of himself in the nude before he switched to acrylic colors, just adding shadow and making minor changes. Art was relaxing, his way of winding down after a busy day before bed. His new computer was on and connected to the web. A ping announced new mail. It was Tom asking if he was still up and wanted to chat. He opened the channel and Tom, shirtless, probably nude and smiling, sitting in the den at his computer appeared on the plasma screen. "Hey, hi," Tom frowned, "Where are you? I'm looking at a great picture of your bed," he complained. Christian looked around, giggled and moved the tripod mounted little camera to the side of the desk so the lens looked at his empty chair. "Oops, sorry about that," he said with a grin as he sat back down. "I'm glad to see you got home okay." "Yeah, I drove straight home so Charlie could take Laura and Cory home. The sparks were definitely flying there. It would be great if they got together. What are you doing?" Tom asked with a lecherous grin, "I saw you like me, and are comfortably naked when you sat down." "Yeah ready for bed. I was just relaxing, doodling." Tom's frown remained, "Why aren't you studying, no exams tomorrow? That's why I called, or whatever these video conversations are called." Christian sighed, nodded and then grinned, "Yes mother, I do, but it's English composition, there's nothing to study, just fill a blue book or two with two hours of bullshit. You know, those tests never change," he giggled, "you took them, only instead of a blue book, you used a chunk of charcoal on the back of a coal shovel if you believe Dooby." Tom laughed, "Wrong I'm not quite as old as Abe Lincoln, we used erasable markers and the backs of plastic snow shovels. Hey it's really getting late." He got serious; "I just called you to remind you that studying for your exams this week comes before working on that ad. If it isn't done by the Friday morning deadline, it doesn't matter, you can finish it Saturday and I'll get the guys to run it Sunday. Those are Charlie's words too by the way. If I was just the printer I'd be screaming but since we're the ad agency AND the printer it no longer matters. We'll ship the product Monday come hell or high water, that's the day that matters." Christian nodded, looking at the plasma screen, "Okay, okay, I get the message. Don't be so serious" "You just look straight at the camera and promise me." Christian turned his head to the side and grinned at the lens, "I need to move this thing next time. If there is a next time, school closes Tuesday remember. Have you had time to find a place for me to hang my hat yet? I could always use the corner of an office at the printing plant you know, I can work anywhere." When he saw Tom holding his frown, he sighed, leaned in close and held up his hand, "Boy Scout's honor, I promise." Tom's image grew as he leaned forward, "Good. We're going to look at some place that Laura has listed," he smiled, "I'm sure Charlie has all kinds of likely office space, but," he didn't need to say that Charlie wanted to give a sale to Laura to further their relationship. Christian nodded that he understood. Now shut down, turn off your lights and go to bed." He saw Christian nod at the camera, "One more thing I want you to always remember," he added to his orders, "I love you, sleep well," he said softly. "I love you too Tommy. Bye for now." Quinn stood in the hallway outside his son's door which was open far enough so he could see the plasma screen and the back of Christian's head and shoulders. Christian rarely closed it so it was latched; there was no reason to. His mother and father always knocked and respected the privacy of his bedroom just as he respected theirs. Quinn wasn't planning to eavesdrop, he was going to confront his son, but had no idea what he was going to do afterward. He wasn't mad, he was saddened and disappointed and still disbelieving or hoping that Laura Conner was wrong, the other boys could be gay, but not his big strapping son. He didn't act queer, but then none of them did. Quinn remained unmoving until ten minutes passed and the computer went to sleep with the plasma screen suddenly providing beautiful kaleidoscopic color bursts lighting the room much like a display of fireworks, a perpetual grand finale. He pushed open the door and walked in. Christian slept like a runner. He lay on his side facing the giant screen across the room. His legs were slightly drawn up and spread. He looked like he was engaged in a foot race. Quinn moved closer careful to avoid casting his shadow on his son's sleeping face. He experienced one heart wrenching moment when he thought Christian wasn't breathing. He bent closer and saw the still developing powerful chest expand slowly, and then deflate almost imperceptibly. He sighed with relief. In sleep, his son looked much like he did as a little boy; innocent, serene, vulnerable yet content to know he was safe in his home and his bed. A burst of yellow lighted Christian's face. Quinn saw his son's eyes moving under closed lids partially hidden by long curling lashes that meshed together perfectly, Christian was already dreaming, perhaps reliving the evening's Lacrosse match. One eyebrow went up then relaxed. Quinn smiled. Every woman that looked at Christian envied him those eyebrows; so geometric they looked tended regularly and painfully with tweezers. Of course they also hated him for having eyelashes that they had to pay money for. Quinn smiled again at that thought, even Judy, Christian's mother, occasionally would impulsively reach up to tug gently at one to be certain they were real. Christian would bat her hand away and complain, "Ah Mom, cut that out. It's your fault, you guys made me." Judy would laugh and tweak a rosy cheek, wishing she had those too along with his faultless complexion. Those complements were guaranteed to evoke the same retort, "Pick on Dad for a change will you?" Father and son looked like twins that were born twenty-five years apart. Christian moved his legs then moved them back. Quinn decided he was running in his dream. Then he moved an arm unconsciously, his hand reached between his legs to free his trapped manhood. Quinn blinked after the hand moved back to rub the bed lovingly. His eyes stayed on his son's newly exposed erection resting on the tanned thigh. He frowned on noticing the carefully barbered pubic area and immediately thought he understood the reason, personal vanity. He'd never imagine that shaving eliminated the need for one's lover to pause to remove an errant hair from his mouth. His son's erect penis, his plump testicles would never be used for reproduction. He wondered when Christian knew and how long he'd carried the terrible burden, as Laura phrased it, her son, and Cory's secret. He was a homosexual, gay, queer, preferred other guys, no, liked others of his own sex, no, actually loved one just a few years older, Quinn corrected himself. Tom, Tommy Patterson. Smart, good looking, athletic, obviously well off financially, apparently successful, already self-assured, and something else, Quinn thought, much more concerned about his son's educational future at the moment than anything sexual. He reviewed the conversation between the two boys, young men he corrected. Tom was concerned that Christian would fail to study in favor of working on an advertisement for which there was a critical deadline. Christian and Tom could see each other, both were naked, they could talk to each other and watch while they enjoyed a new kind of phone sex, computer sex, cyber sex. They could have, but they didn't. They just talked like two friends, two adults one interested in the other's well being, motherly, but not overbearing. They were near equal partners in their relationship with Tom being slightly superior in a nice way since he was more mature and Christian's employer as well as lover. Lover. Quinn swallowed, he wondered what they did together, who was where, how, obviously often, they were both virile young studs, probably passionate, at first even rough, then calmer, slower but still passionate, fulfilling, satisfying. He shrugged mentally and adjusted himself in his boxer shorts. He grinned and turned for the door. He would see if Judy was awake, he knew she wasn't, but she never turned him down when he woke her to ask if she was asleep. The silly question was a turn-on for her. He decided he'd tell her about their son after they made love while he still held her close. Quinn was near the door when he stepped on a floorboard that creaked under his weight. "Dad?" Christian asked softly without moving. "Is something wrong?" Quinn returned to the bed, embarrassed that he'd been caught at first, then glad that he was. Then and there was a good time to talk, to remove his son's burden without losing him. He was about to lie, to say that he was going downstairs for a snack and was attracted to the screen saver through the crack in the open door. Christian eliminated the necessity, he yawned, realized that he was hard and sat up to hug his knees. He patted the bed, "Could we talk? I have something to tell you." Quinn sat down and watched Christian suck in a huge lung full of air. Quinn hoisted a family eyebrow to ask what. He impulsively rifled his fingers through his son's tousled hair. "I don't get to do that much anymore now that you've grown up." Christian smiled, "Yeah, I always complained that you messed up my do, but I really liked it and my do was always messed up anyway. Curls are not a good thing for guys wanting to look cool, not for me wanting to look like a very macho stud. It's like when I got the idea in my head that it was no longer cool to kiss you good night. Kissing Mom is still cool, but not me kissing you, a son pecking his father on the cheek, a guy kissing another guy. Do you know when that started?" Quinn shrugged, "You were around twelve or thirteen, puberty I guess. About then?" He asked. "Yeah, but do you know why?" Christian didn't wait for his father to answer he looked away and answered his question, "I stopped because I didn't want you to think I was queer because I knew I was," he whispered, held his breath and waited for an explosion of anger, or protests of disbelief or even laughter. Quinn did none of the above; he rifled his son's hair again then tensed his fingers and turned Christian's head so they looked each other in the eyes. "I actually came in here tonight to tell you that I already know. I found out tonight, I overheard Laura Connor and Charlie talking. I was going to rage at you and probably play the blame game," he smiled, "you know, its Tom's fault or Dooby's fault, you were seduced. I should have seen the handwriting on the wall. In your case it was all those pictures, beautiful pictures, but all of guys. Then I was going to blame a strange gene you've got somewhere like a disease, because you certainly didn't get it from your mother or me. I like that one the best because you all have it. It can't be removed by surgery and it can't be talked out of you by a psychiatrist, its just there. I had my hand on your doorknob when I heard you and Tom talking. I listened because I thought he'd give me some ammunition to blame him, but he fooled me, no surprised me. He called you because he wants you to study. Your school work comes before everything else even a multimillion dollar contract," he hesitated, "and even before sex." He blushed, another family trait, and looked at the big screen, "And that thing offers some interesting possibilities way beyond a phone conversation between lovers. No, back up, let me rephrase that, two people in love, two guys, two mature young men in love." Quinn struggled, "You are aren't you, really in love I mean? I didn't understand that before, I thought it was just a sex thing, until I saw the sincerity at the end, the openness, the absence of any embarrassment when you said the words to each other." Christian nodded, "Yeah we are. Sex is a big part of it, but talking, becoming friends, being best friends is a bigger part, more important right now and probably always." He smiled hesitantly, "I expect we'll catch up on the other this weekend." Quinn chuckled, "If you don't then your last name isn't Dunn." They talked for another half hour, at first hesitantly, although with open frankness. Quinn didn't understand the relationships between the four boys. The thought of two hetero couples in the same bed together was repugnant to him. Christian attempted to explain how it was different with four gays; two couples who loved each other and all friends. Straight couples always included a male and a female, while loving gay partners could act as either, could be either depending on preferences, likes and dislikes. His father did some serious eyebrow hoisting when Christian admitted that he, Tom, Dooby and Cory were totally versatile and sex, having sex with a friend just didn't matter, was unimportant, it was simply fun whether one's partner was watching, participating, or even was in the room. Sex was sex, it was fun and satisfying, but didn't affect the love an individual felt for his partner. Christian concluded so his father would understand, by comparing the four of them as two couples to two divisions, two separate profit centers within a conglomerate such as the corporation Quinn represented as legal council. The divisions were separate legal entities but they weren't competitors except for seeing which bottom line was larger and always interacted with each other for the common good or with the same goal of profiting for the parent company. Quinn nodded and they moved to discussing Dunn and Patterson, Advertising, and Spelling's. Quinn was in awe of Charlie's plans to expand the chain aggressively and then take his highly profitable, everyone assumed, since there were no public financial statements, very private company public before the end of the calendar year. Both father and son were amazed to discover that Justa Pizza, with over twelve hundred, and counting, successful franchises across the country was also one of Charlie's enterprises. Christian laughed when he told his father that it was very likely that Cory and Charlie were quickly developing a father and son relationship, and joked about Cory eventually supplanting Charlie as CEO, or even Chairman at some point in the future. Christian surmised that if Charlie and Laura Conner's relationship developed into a summer and winter marriage, that Cory would be adopted and his future control of Spelling's was guaranteed by inheritance, since Charlie would always be the majority stockholder while he lived and he had no children. When Quinn asked about Christian's future he admitted that Tom was in the process of incorporating the fledgling company and that he, Christian, would own fifty percent of Dunn and Patterson on his eighteenth birthday. Christian laughed at his father's frown, "And before you ask, Tommy put that in writing. He wrote it on the computer and signed copies. That's legal isn't it? It is to us. At first I thought it was too much, you know me, still in high school, and Tommy bankrolling the startup, but he told me that if it weren't for my talent, there wouldn't be a company. Charlie told Tommy to go headhunt more talent since there's already more to do than I can handle while I'm in school, including college, but I get final approval on everything before it gets presented to Charlie. Tommy's going to manage both companies until I get out of school, then I'll take over the agency. We plan to use Spelling's as a stepping-stone to get more accounts as soon as we get our shit together. The gage of how well we're doing is Charlie's bottom line. Don't worry, he'll let us know." "Maybe I could help you there, I could ask around." Quinn suggested, thinking of the far flung conglomerate holdings. Christian smiled, "Thanks Dad, but you've often said the big boys you work for get kind of possessive, you know like they want you to work for them as an employee. They'd eat us alive somehow if they discovered how profitable the ad business could be." Quinn nodded while Christian yawned. "You need to get back to sleep," he stood up. "I was going to finish the loft in the carriage barn for you this summer so it would be ready in the fall when school starts, but now maybe I'll just have it done. You need your own space now more than ever so you guys can visit on weekends this summer. You will feel free to visit us with Tom won't you? You'll need privacy, meanwhile if you visit, please get in the habit of closing your door and we won't worry about the polite fiction of using guestrooms." Quinn had a thought, "Say, do Dooby's parents know?" He laughed, "Silly question, that's why they finished the second floor for him isn't it?" Christian smiled up at him as he turned to leave. "Good night son." Christian grabbed his father's hand and pulled him down. He kissed his cheek, "Good night Dad." Father and son blushed at the pleasure of the renewed familiarity. Quinn again stepped on the creaking floorboard on his way to the door. He looked down, "That's one goddamn board that I'm never going to fix, I'm glad it woke you." Christian giggled as he stretched out on the bed once more already getting in his running/sleeping position, "Say Dad, thanks for the loft, but if you don't mind, I'll just use it as a studio. Maybe just sleep out there occasionally, this will still be my bedroom if that's all right." Christian called Tom on the phone as soon as his father closed his bedroom door and pointedly made sure rattling the knob latched it. Tom had been asleep. They didn't talk long, just long enough for Christian to tell Tom of his conversation with his father. He concluded; "He didn't approve or disapprove, he just accepted it, me, us. We're gay, and we love each other, end of story. What a relief and I still have a home and parents." The Marauders final match was an away game. Tom drove Cory in his Vet, because Charlie took Laura Connor to dinner before the match and would meet them there. Christian and Dooby followed the team bus so they could go their own way afterward which meant go for pizza at another of Charlie's Justa Pizza restaurants. Dooby happily asked Lane Fulton to join them at Jennifer's request, really an imperious demand and she just as happily invited herself to ride with them and dared Christian to refuse. Dooby already told Christian that Jennifer was in hot pursuit but not why he heartily approved of the budding romance and even presented her with his entire stash of condoms, for which he received a very unsisterly kiss before he could push her away when he felt one of her hands slide down his body. He hadn't told anyone about Jennifer's aggressive visits as yet, not even Cory, but planned to in the dark of night when they were alone in bed at Tom's. That was one secret that had to be shared with someone. Jennifer and Lane were delighted to find the small rear seat in the Honda very confining. Lane had very little room for his long shorts clad legs with Jennifer pasted to his side and after Jennifer got done arranging him to her satisfaction he couldn't move at all and didn't want to. She put his arm around her shoulders then took his other hand in hers and moved it between their laps however she wished. Lane was breathless and befuddled by the time they arrived at Justa Pizza and thanked all Gods that they'd been allowed to keep their team jerseys, and that he was wearing his outside his shorts. Tom and Cory had arrived first and claimed a corner booth so all six of them, actually three couples could sit together. Jennifer again engineered this arrangement through her brother. Tom and Cory were happy to oblige since Jennifer would be busy with her conquest and leave them in peace. She once again chose to sit between them and hold their hands to watch the match, but this time she kept trying to move their joined hands as high as she could on their thighs before playfully diving between their legs until they tightened their arm muscles to keep her away. "Shit, shit, shit," Dooby moaned as he and Christian walked into Tom's kitchen a few minutes behind Tom and Cory. "What's with you?" Tom asked. "Mom and I baked enough to keep us supplied all weekend, then she boxed them up in her precious Tupperware and hid them so I couldn't get at them. I saw her and dad loading them in her car. She was going to give them to you personally, and she forgot. Shit, I even forgot, I must be slipping." "Too bad," Tom laughed, "but we'll survive a couple of days." He frowned suddenly, "Wait a minute, did you say YOU helped your poor mother? I wish I'd been there to see that. I'm amazed you're still alive or we all will be after not eating anything you had your paws in." Dooby got defensive, "It so happens Uncle Wise Ass that I actually did one batch by myself and they were just as good as Mom's, so there! She even said so!" Tom grinned, "Well in that case my dear little cousin, you can just bake more in the morning. I have all the stuff, the ingredients and Charlie's recipe. You and Cory need lots of practice before you get to a studio kitchen, which hasn't been built yet anyway until we see if this is going to work, so I thought you could do your thing here temporarily." He pointed up over the island work area. A mirror was hung there angled out. Then he dropped his arm and pointed at two video cameras on tripods, one was trained up at the mirror and the second at the area behind the island where Cory would do the preparation and Dooby would sit on a stool and watch. "This is crude but its good enough for now. I do have a few gallons of ice cream though so you can just eat more of that tonight." Dooby looked at his watch and grinned rubbing his hands together. "That's a negative Uncle Tommy, if you can keep your tired old eyes open long enough I'll do a batch right now. Warm brownies are the best, they taste better plus it's a challenge to eat them and the ice cream before the ice cream melts and the brownies get all soggy. Now where's the stuff?" Dooby started to strip his team jersey off, then thought better of the idea. He grinned at Cory; "Everyone stays dressed so there's no distractions while I create the ultimate brownie." Cory giggled and got a stool from the breakfast bar and sat down where Dooby would be sitting when they were actually taping a show. Tom brought a plastic hamper from the pantry containing all the ingredients Charlie said they'd need, while Christen pulled two stools back behind the cameras. "Suddenly I'm not tired or horny. I wouldn't miss this show even for sex," he laughed. Tom smiled at him and offered him a Spelling's weekly advertising supplement. "This one is a collector's copy, the first one to come off the press. Congratulations Ad Man!" He giggled and gave Cory and Dooby copies. "Already?" Christian asked absently as he scanned the reproduction quality. "I didn't send it out until early this morning. Wow!" He giggled, "The steam did print just like you said. Did Charlie approve this? I guess he did or I would have heard. How come you didn't bring it to the match or say something? Shit no one said anything. What did Charlie say, he DID approve this didn't he, with NO corrections?" He asked again and ignored everyone's laughter, "I was sure I'd have some edits to do tomorrow." "Nope, I didn't bring it because I didn't want you distracted and I certainly wouldn't just tell you. Charlie loved it. He called me before I could get to him. 'Print the bitch as is, I love it,' was all he said, except he reminded us we have a golf date at seven thirty tomorrow morning. After we get done and you get richer, Charlie's going to forgo his poker game. We're going office shopping with Laura." Dooby pulled milk, eggs and butter from the refrigerator, and then pawed through the box of other ingredients. He arranged everything on the island and rummaged in the cabinets and drawers until he found a saucepan, the bowls and kitchen tools he needed before he studied the professional looking mixer standing ready on the counter before he turned his back on it since it wouldn't be needed. Tom joined Christian. He winked and leaned forward to turn on both cameras while Dooby's back was turned. Dooby turned serious, "Okay now no real fooling around you guys and no noise. We have to get in the habit of playing this for real." He turned to Cory and grinned, 'And from now on no swearing, say spit instead of shit, I guess we can say hell and damn, but fuck is definitely out maybe substitute screw for fuck, not too often though," he playfully wagged his finger in Cory's face. "You say fuck every other fucking word, did you know that you foul mouthed Irishman you?" Tom winced, "There might be some editing required for these shows," he whispered to Christian. Dooby turned his attention to Christian and Tom, "I'm going to make a double batch tonight and they're going to be cake brownies, my mother's recipe. Charlie's are the fudge kind, they're heavier and cold." He grinned at Tom and Christian. "I knew that some were different but I didn't know why. Like I thought Charlie screwed his up somehow. They were still great, but I'm used to the cake kind. I'm sending some of these with you tomorrow for Charlie and you better not eat them on the way," he warned. He went on the grease two pans, then combine ingredients in the sauce pan on the range top, then measured and combined others in a bowl while he maintained a steady stream of chatter, explaining what he was doing to Cory. Cory used the new circular as a prop and slowly mentioned that eggs, flour and sugar were on sale that week so Spelling's customers could bake their own brownies using the convenient recipe in that week's circular or even easier, visit the Spelling's bakery and buy them fresh from the oven and ready to eat, because the recipe, Granny Spelling's, was exactly the same and stressed again that the bakery brownie's were on sale at Spelling's too. Dooby surprised the others when he started comparing the Spelling brand ingredients with national brands. His mother always bought Spelling's store brands because they were less expensive, he giggled and mentioned that was good thing since she had to buy so much to keep him supplied with baked goods, but that they were actually made and packaged by the national brands so there was no difference except for cost. Cory impulsively got cans of Coke from the refrigerator and found a bag of Frito's corn chips. He carefully placed the cans on the counter with the labels facing the camera then announced that Coke and Frito-Lay products were also on sale that week as well. They also managed to discuss Lacrosse and Dooby's match that evening. The Marauders lost by two goals, mostly because the opposing team had more experience. They started a team two years earlier while this was the Marauders first season. Cory pointed out that another reason could have been that the referee didn't buy Dooby's accidental trip and fall on a ball carrier. Dooby was sidelined and the opposition got a goal on the free penalty shot and the second while Dooby watched impotently from the bench. Dooby scratched his nose vigorously in Cory's direction with his middle finger just before he put the two pans in the wall oven and set the timer. "We'd stop here wouldn't we?" Dooby asked Tom. After Tom nodded, the old Dooby returned, "Fuck you too Sprout! I was a tad out of position when Lane tripped me," he giggled suddenly, "plus it was the same fucking ref from last week. He told me he gave me the benefit of doubt in the first match, but this time," he shook his head sadly. He grinned at Tom, "That titanium stick is holding up well though. We'll have to get Lane over here for a day this summer so we can work on variations. He's going to be dating Jennifer from now on, and she's dying to get over here to see the house, so she can come along. Maybe we can have a cookout? That could be another show too, outside with a grill," he grinned, "a built-in grill, built by Dooby DuBois!" Tom agreed, "We need to invite everyone, all our parents, we'll have a pool party." He opened the blinds screening the windows that looked out on the terrace and new pool with the touch of a button, and then threw a couple of switches. The dark terrace, pool and finished landscape were bathed in light. Dooby checked his watch with the oven timer. "Come on Sprout, we've got time to get cleaned up and shower before they're done, then they have to cool a little. We can christen the pool before we eat them." He grabbed Cory's hand and yanked him off the stool before he looked at Christian and Tom, "Come on old timers, get your asses in gear. You can watch, you can join us or you can screw your asses off together, but that beautiful pool needs to be christened tonight!" Tom turned off the cameras and looked at Christian just as Cory reappeared naked. Dooby was shouting for him to join him in the shower. "He's going to be doing the cooking if Charlie likes the tapes. I couldn't do it that well. He walked behind the island and grinned at them, "Plus I'm not fucking tall enough, I'd have to stand on a box and I'm not doing that. I like watching him and reading the ad, so I'll do that." "Tapes?" Tom asked. Cory giggled, "Yeah tapes, if you think we didn't know you had the cameras running you're both really getting old. We want to watch them too so wait for us." "SPROUT! DRAG YOUR BEANSTALK IN HERE, PLEASSSEEE!" Dooby begged with another shout. Cory started to run but stopped in the hallway, "One thing we should do though, get us jerseys with the Spelling logo on the front and our first names on the backs. They would work like one long advertisement." Dooby started getting frustrated. "Gotta go! I'M COMING!" Cory shouted. "YOU BETTER NOT BE, NOT YET!" Dooby hollered with a giggle. Tom and Christian showered and cleaned each other clinically because they wanted to get back to the kitchen to tape Dooby when he took the brownies from the oven. Dooby and Cory were waiting for them standing in front of the oven, watching the timer count down. They were both wearing the shirts they had on earlier and nothing else. They giggled at Tom when he sheepishly turned the cameras back on. The odor of brownies, already permeating the house, intensified when he removed the pans after first professionally sticking a toothpick in one to judge its doneness. He tilted one pan up to the camera, almost kissed the side and inhaled noisily, "Ladies and gentlemen, the ultimate brownie! Buy the ingredients or buy them ready to eat only at Spelling's. Everything's on sale starting today." He offered the camera a happy extended grin, and then hollered, "That's a cut, wrap and print, or whatever!" He declared, placed the second pan of brownies on the counter, then picked up a heavy long tined carving fork and frowned at his three friends gathered around him, "Mom has one of these too," he rubbed the back of his hand, "she serves no brownies before their time and I don't either. Get the point? If you don't, touch these before I cut them and you will," he warned. "Now let's hit the pool!" He brandished the fork like a sword, driving them into the great room and out the door. Tom's pool was designed to his specifications. He was a swimmer and he wanted to be able to swim laps, so it was rectangular. The sides and ends were vertical. There were no steps into the shallow end closest to the house for the timid, just molded indentations in the side walls at the four corners, each marked by a pair of stainless rails. The bottom was divided into four lanes by dark tile that ran the length of the twenty-five meter tank. Dooby issued the first complaint when he surfaced from a shallow dive trying to hit the same spot where Cory disappeared, "Hey Uncle Tommy, there's no diving board. Just how can we have diving contests? I know I can't beat you in a race, but I had a chance diving." Tom hit him in the face with a mouthful of water, "WRONG!" He giggled, "Look closer before you bitch, Bitch!" He pointed to the middle of the deep end wall. They sprinted and Dooby lost as he predicted. Christian and Cory joined them on the deck seconds later to admire a stainless steel contraption, a small trampoline with a ladder leading to a platform three feet above and behind the heavy nylon tramp. "I played with one of these somewhere when I was a kid. I sketched it for the guy that built the pool and he had it welded up for me. It just sits here, and in the winter time I can just store it," he grinned, "If I don't have the pool enclosed by then." He demonstrated by climbing the ladder, and without pausing, jumped up and out. He hit the tramp with his feet and was catapulted back up and out over the water with time for a somersault before he entered the water cleanly. Cory was already on the platform waiting for Tom to clear the landing by the time he surfaced. The competitor in Dooby complained again, "Goddamnit, Uncle Tommy I guess I need to get in some serious practice before I take you on at diving too." Dooby got in line behind Christian, "Hurry the fuck up Sprout, this isn't a chess game, just jump already," he groused while Cory studied the tramp below and the water. Dooby reached over Christian's shoulder with a pointed index finger. Christian pushed his hand away, "Let him be, and don't even think about goosing me either unless you want to learn how to dive wearing a cast on your arm all summer." Cory reproduced Tom's dive nearly as well and surfaced laughing, "Hey that thing is so cool, it'll even make YOU look good MOUTH!" He laughed at Dooby's sour expression and raised finger. An impromptu diving competition began. Three guys judged the one diving and overall the decisions were fair although not without some good-natured laughing arguments. Tom was in undisputed first place and second was a three-way tie. The contest ended after a dozen dives each. Dooby was on the platform, Tom touched Christian's shoulder and nodded to the placid surface of the so far ignored spa placed near the master bedroom door. Christian grinned and whispered to Cory. When Dooby surfaced and looked to the trampoline for his score there was no one there. He heard laughter and saw three heads just above the surface of the deck watching him. Cory waved and motioned for him to join them. When Dooby looked down on them, Tom had the blower on but no jets. He and Christian sat together in one corner making out as if there were alone. Dooby's erection rose in a few seconds while he stood watching before Cory stood up long enough to use it as a handle to guide him into the bubbles. They settled into the diagonal corner with Cory half laying and half floating on Dooby lightly. Dooby broke their first kiss to look around Cory's head, "Hey Uncle Tommy, aren't the jets finished yet?" Tom and Christian both looked at him, Christian frowned at being disturbed but Tom grinned, "You want jets? You said you want the jets on? Ha, ha you annoying motherfucker you're sitting in the right corner for jets." He reached behind his head where there were four recessed buttons, "Sorry Cory, just hold on tight here comes the jets." He pushed all of them as fast as he could, the relatively placid bubbling pool turned into an instant boiling cauldron, Dooby had his legs spread and Cory was stretched out between them, his enormous erection floated in limbo until the four jets below the seat, intended to massage the lower legs erupted battering his cock like liquid wind in an under sea hurricane. Three large jets at Dooby's back started to push him off the edge of the seat. He closed his legs, tensed his lithe body, hugged Cory and was forced forward until his feet found the convex main drain and stopped their slide by bracing them against the over turned bowl shaped fixture. Cory's expression changed from surprise to pleasure, he pulled himself higher on Dooby's body so his cock was jammed in his lover's crotch. Dooby watched Cory's eyes cross as the lower jets did their work. Cory moaned after a minute and held Dooby in a death grip. "Did you come motherfucker?" Dooby asked suspiciously. Cory's satisfied grin was answer enough. "Sonofabitch! You did didn't you? It must have been good," he giggled, "to be so fast. Come on, let's roll over with me on top, I want to try it." He moved his feet and they floated free of the seat, pushed away by the strong current. Then he turned them and pushed Cory back into the seat, holding him there with his body. Cory snuggled Dooby's cock between his shorter but more muscular wrestler's thighs and braced his feet on the drain. While Dooby in the bottom position was able to balance them with his ass on the edge of the seat, Cory found the edge in the small of his back and held them in position with his out stretched arms and hands locked on the raised lip of the pool. They were briefly distracted when a low moan was forced from Christian. Cory looked over Dooby's back. Christian was alone. Dooby was helping the jets by humping Cory's crotch. "I think Christian just got an under water head job," he advised Dooby as Tom's head appeared. "Yup, he did. He looks like he almost died," he reported when Christian start gasping and Tom pulled himself up his body to rest and catch up on his breathing. "We'll try that next." Dooby panted in Cory's ear. "This is unbelievable!" Tom raised his head when he heard Dooby's comment. "Don't you guys dare to come in this pool," he warned without looking to see what they were doing. Cory felt Dooby's body tense and saw his eyes take on that special look of ecstasy, "OOPS! Too late!" Cory started to giggle then a rich belly laugh bouncing Dooby. Dooby joined him before he looked back to see his cousin's frown, "Why not?" He squeaked with a grin. "Because in the morning you'll find a floater that looks vaguely like a gray poached egg minus the yolk, that's why." Tom answered sullenly before he turned his attention back to Christian as they traded places. Dooby and Cory laughed together while they jammed themselves in their corner seat to enjoy the intended purpose of the jets on their bodies. "Breakfast!" They sang together. Dooby cocked his head with a grin, "And just how do you know what cum looks like in a spa Uncle Tommy?" He asked too sweetly. "Is that point mentioned in the operator's manual?" Tom grinned as Christian backed down his body until his head disappeared under the surface. "I experimented last night. Some got stuck on the side; the skimmer got most of it. That corner is wild isn't it?" He asked with a giggle. Christian surfaced for air then ducked under again. Dooby checked his watch, "It's brownie time!" He announced and pulled Cory to his feet as he stood up. "We'll get them ready while Christian gets finished, but he better not take too long," he warned. His meaning was clear, follow soon or their bedtime snack would be gone. "If you eat ours, you'll be out here vacuuming this spa with your mouth," Tom warned Dooby back. "That's no threat Uncle Tommy," Dooby countered with a giggle, "that's how I planned to do it." Jennifer waited impatiently at the kitchen window looking for Lane, her first date. Her mother had gone furniture shopping for Dooby. Her father, with three workmen, was busy on the second floor finishing Dooby's apartment, soon to be hers after school closed for summer vacation on Tuesday and he moved to Uncle Tommy's. She jumped nervously each time a nail gun fired to sink a nail in the moldings that she stained so carefully. She smiled, her father would be totally engrossed in trimming out the rooms and her mother would visit every furniture store within thirty miles, shopping, comparing prices, then returning to the lucky store who had what she wanted at a reasonable price, so Jennifer had the house, pool and in fact the whole property to herself. She'd done her homework well and hoped she thought of everything. Earlier in the week she walked the entire ten acres, looking for the right spot. She found it at the furthest corner, where a tiny brook meandered across their land before turning back to border a farmer's hay field. A big old pine fell for some reason and carried two other trees with it. Sunlight allowed grass, red clover and a few weeds to grow in the small area that remained protected by a jumble of tree trunks and branches. The space was open to view from the hayfield but there was no reason for anyone to be in the distant field except when the hay was harvested, so the place she chose was private and she thought, rather pretty. Earlier, that morning she debated with herself on the subject of furnishings for her natural love nest, whether to do nothing and pretend to just discover the chosen spot or provide something for them to lie on in advance. She couldn't see or feel anything with her hands like brambles or prickly weeds and the area didn't seem to be rocky, but then she thought of unseen creepy crawly bugs, particularly the biting kind who most certainly would object to being mashed by her bare back and little butt. She reasoned that she and Lane both expected to get laid apparently for the first time, sometime during the day and since she was the instigator there was no point in taking the risk of spoiling the occasion by playing at being a dumb blond and getting bitten by some justifiably irate insect. She visited the garage and a stack of thick padded mover's blankets her father used occasionally to wrap cabinetry that was being transported to a new home he was working on. Several on the bottom of the neatly folded pile were brand new; she borrowed one of those and carried it to the glen. After her mother left, and with the thought of pretense out of the way, she snitched a bottle of wine, a corkscrew and two plastic wine glasses. These went into a small cooler along with ice cubes and impulsively, three of the condoms Dooby gifted her with. She hurried back to the house after the final trip into the woods. She didn't want her father to have to stop what he was doing to answer the door and be greeted with a very nervous boy who could easily be scared away by as little as a protective father's frown. Lane arrived peddling a mountain bike so slowly he looked like he was about to topple over at any moment. He was wearing a tank top shirt, which displayed his shoulders and chest nicely, and was bobbing his head far faster than he was pumping his legs. As he got closer, Jennifer saw that he was wearing a portable CD player clipped to the waistband of his knee length bright yellow shorts and had tiny earphones clipped over the top of his head. He also wore a backpack. He circled the parking area once before Jennifer could get outside to greet him, "Hi!" She called and waved from the steps. The wave got his attention; he was deaf to anything but the music. His feet dropped from the bike pedals, the earphones closed around his neck when he pulled them down. He walked the bike toward her wearing a nervous smile, "Hey, hi! I was stalling, I'm a little early." Jennifer was enthralled by his voice; it was a deep baritone, very masculine. Dooby was a tenor and could still make it squeak like a little boys if he wanted to wheedle something. She was sure that Lane's squeaking days were over. "Come on in, you're right on time, not early," she lied because he was actually ten frustrating minutes late. He flinched and looked at the kitchen ceiling when the nail gun was fired. Jennifer quickly explained what was happening on the second floor and that her mother would be away shopping most of the day. She concluded, "So we'll be alone all day except at lunchtime, Daddy's grilling burgers for us and his men." Lane looked disappointed as he stripped off his backpack. It thunked when he put it on the table and a charming blush rose from his neck, "Oh yeah, I ah kind of brought a picnic lunch, but whatever." "Really?" Jennifer was delighted; "Well in that case we can eat that off by ourselves somewhere." She eyed the blocky pack, "What did you bring?" Lane unzipped the top of his pack, "This thing is a cooler, pretty cool idea." He removed a second set of earphones and a dozen CD's, "I didn't know what you like so I brought a selection. I like anything, rock, jazz, blues, western and even classical." Jennifer's eyes lit up when she saw the top of a wine bottle peeking above foil wrapped sandwiches. He grinned sheepishly when he saw her staring and smiling, "I'm kind of nervous and you look like you are too, I thought, well you know, this will help us chill out a little." Jennifer stretched to kiss his cheek, "You are so thoughtful. I love that in a man." She snapped her fingers, "I know, we can drink this out by the pool, I'll get us Cokes and we have some thermal glasses you can't see through, so no one will know what we're actually drinking." She got two Cokes and the glasses with a conspiratorial giggle then beckoned Lane to follow her through the house. The stopped at the powder room door, "You can change into your suit in there," she told him and pushed the door. Lane looked confused and looked down at himself, "I'm wearing my bathing suit." "Oh, underneath." "No, these are it. These are surfer's shorts, they're very in." Jennifer's eyebrows knitted as she studied the baggy all concealing bathing suit and thought quickly. She always dreamed of seeing her man's bulge, of watching it move behind material counter to the way its owner moved, she wanted to be able to arouse him and see the result. She grinned, "Lane you are just too conservative. Our pool is mostly private and I know you have nothing to hide, check that, you certainly do, just not from me. Wait right here, I'll be right back." She took off running down the hall to the stairs. Lane watched her tight little butt flash from the hem of large tee shirt she wore over her smallest string bikini. He shrugged mentally while his cock thickened and lengthened. He was way beyond the point of no return. He would do anything to please her so that she would please him somewhere, anywhere, later. He'd already guessed that she had those minor details worked out, so he'd just go with the flow. He frowned when she returned. She was carrying another earphone set. "I brought my other earphones for you Jennifer. What's wrong with them?" She giggled and shook her head, "Nothing silly, but Daddy is up there remember? I had to tell him why I was pawing through Dooby's clothes." She reached under the front of her tee shirt and brought out a tightly wadded ball of thin nylon material. When she opened her fist the colored ball resolved itself into Dooby's tank suit that Tom bought him. "Here now just go in there and change," she ordered. "These are Dooby's but I know they'll be skinny dipping at Uncle Tommy's, which is why he left them home." Lane turned his brightest red as he took the little suit and got pushed into the powder room. Jennifer even closed the door for him because she didn't want him to see her grin of anticipation. He pushed his bathing suit down his legs, and held up the wispy material Jennifer expected him to wear. He looked down at himself and then in the mirror, then again at the tank suit. After a long sigh he pulled it up his legs and attempted to pull the waistband up to where he normally wore any pants, about three inches below his navel. The suit couldn't be pulled higher than two inches below his just darkening tan line, or just above his brown curly pubes. He attempted to push the waist down in back so there would be more material in the front but that only exposed the an inch of his crack, so he pulled it back up deciding skin and pubes were preferable to his crack showing. With the waist band dilemma solved, the problem of where to put his cock arose, figuratively, not literally, he was too nervous. "Jennifer?" He called through the door. "Are you all right?" Jennifer asked growing impatient to see how he looked in the lovely little suit. "Yes fine, but I have this problem. Did you ever see Dooby wearing this thing?" Lane asked and Dooby's body entered his mind, wearing the same suit, the mental picture was very sexy, almost erotic, Dooby was proud of his body and wasn't afraid to display it in the locker room. Dooby's cock and balls had resided in the same suit too, that thought was just as erotic to contemplate. "Yes, what's the problem?" "Well, did you ever happen to notice where he put his thing?" "Oh!" She giggled, "His thing, let me think. I kind of remember that most of the time he sort of had it tucked down over his balls, so together there was a very nice bulge, but sometimes I guess it got loose and it pointed over at his hip. I don't remember whether it was the right or left, does it matter?" "Balls?" Lane asked in shock, proving to Jennifer that he could still manage a squeak in his voice if properly challenged. "Yes balls, Dooby's are right where yours are," Jennifer couldn't help giggling. "Do you want me to come in and get you pointed in the right direction?" She rattled the doorknob for effect, "No," he squeaked again, "I got it." Jennifer pressed her body against the door and whispered, "Relax Lane, we're going to have fun this summer." He opened the door suddenly and Jennifer fell into his arms, "Yeah we are," he agreed in a husky whisper before he kissed her.