The week has stretched out for our gay gang, as they have waited for Saturday to arrive. Everyone has been invited back to Richie's house for a swim and another paint-ball battle. At last, the anticipated day has arrived. Sammy's little brother, Kyle, will fill us in on the particulars.
Our terrific, warm weather has taken on a typical, Fall chill overnight. We are all bundled up as Mom Howe drops me, Scully, Mic and Jer at Trevor's place again.We got another invite from Trevor and Marc; this time it's supposed to be for a regulation paint-ball tournament. It seems that Trevor's Dad has set up some surprises up for us, according to Marc; but they won't tell us what they are. I'm assuming they have set up some barricades and other hiding places in our make-shift paint-ball field. You need to be able to duck and cover or you're just committing suicide out in the open.
Scully reaches up and bangs the door knocker while the rest of us stand around holding our equipment. (Not that equipment, smart aleck!) There is the sound of bare feet slapping against tiles again; as the sound quickly approaches the door I can hear Trevor's high pitched voice. "We have it, Maria."
The door opens and once again we are greeted by the mansion duo in swim suits.
"Brrrr..." Marc exclaims, "get yer butts in here before my thingy freezes and falls off."
We all hustle through the doorway to prevent a lot of warm air from escaping , despite the thoughts of seeing if it would really fall off.
"Scooter, Possum and Timmy are here already. They're in the pool. You fellows brought your suits didn't you?" Trevor asks.
We all raise our towel-wrapped bundles to show that we came prepared. Last time we swam in the nude, but I think Trevor's parents are home today.
"Follow us up to Richie's room," Marc quips, "you can change up there."
We follow the boys up the broad, winding staircase and emerge onto a landing with two connecting hallways. The boys shoot down the left-hand hallway, their feet quieter on the thickly carpeted floors. They pull up in front of a set of ornately carved double doors, half way down the hall, and wait for us. We're all busy gawking like we did on our first visit here. None of us, except Marc, have seen the upstairs portion of this mansion yet. Of course, Marc practically lives here, so none of this is new to him. But the four of us are staring at the expensive looking vases on the end tables and the oil paintings on the walls. The Hamiltons have spent more money furnishing this hallway than my Mom spent on our whole house. I'm just giving appreciative whistles as we slowly walk towards the two boys. Marc has a grin on his face like a dog eating a cat-shit sandwich! He's obviously enjoying our reactions to the surroundings.
Scully is the first one to say anything. He's looking at the carved, oak doors that must lead into Trevor's bedroom.
"Holy crap..." he says, "is every door in this house a double one? Some mighty fat people musta built this house!" He adds with a grin.
"Nah..." Trevor answers, "you know how pretentious us rich people are, Scully. If we could figure out a way to make triple doors then this house would be covered with them. But they probably couldn't figure out how to hinge the middle one."
That's so cute. Trevor's making fun of his family's wealth. Usually he blushes and gets all defensive about it. But I think he feels pretty comfortable with all of us now.
Marc says, "okay guys, get yer eyes full of this," and he swings a door open for us.
We all quickly crowd in behind him, anxious to see what a rich kid's bedroom looks like.
"Holy SHIT!" We all exclaim at once! This isn't a bedroom - it's a freaking, kid's paradise! We've all bump into one another and come to a halt - to stare, wide-eyed around us while Marc giggles like a maniac.
This room is the size of a small gymnasium - carpeted of course. And there are more electronic, arcade games along the walls than in the mall arcade. Towards the center there's a pool table, a fooseball table, air-hockey, slap-hockey, skeeball and on and on! In one corner of the room there's a stuffed animal collection, complete with a giraffe whose head reaches what must be a twelve foot ceiling with a grizzly sized teddy bear propped up next to it. There are literally a couple hundred stuffed animals piled on the floor and on shelves. There are another dozen or so on top of the biggest bed I've ever seen in my life. Good God... we could all sleep in that thing and nobody would be crowded.
I twist around, craning my neck to take it all in. One wall has a HUGE flat panel television the size of a small theater. And there's enough couches around it to hold a dozen people, easy.
We finally break out of our group huddle as everyone begins to wander about. Paint-ball equipment, towels and bathing suits get tossed onto the bed. Guys are just quietly circulating around the room, touching stuff and "ohhing" and "ahhing". I feel like I've died and gone to good-boy heaven.
Trevor and Marc are sitting on one edge of Trevor's bed and are grinning at us as we wander around in our daze. Marc is still giggling from time to time.
Jeremy asks, "so, how the heck did ya get Timmy, Scooter and Possum outta this room to go swimming? I don't think I ever want to leave this room. In fact..." and he looks over at Trevor, "I think I'm gonna butt fuck you and get you pregnant so that you have to marry me, Trev!"
Marc falls backwards, laughing like a hyena, while Trevor turns a brilliant red.
"Good luck, Jeremy," Marc chortles at him. "I haven't been able to get him to go that far yet - and I get to sleep with him! Snicker!"
"Anyway," Trevor says, "the twins and Timmy haven't seen my room yet. They wore their suits under their clothes and just stripped down at the pool." He adds, "hurry and change please. My father wants to greet all of my guests down at the pool."
Trevor looks towards Jeremy and Michael and says "Father especially wants to meet you two. He says he wants to thank you boys for making a man out of me!" Then he gives them a grin and a wink.
Marc rolls his eyes and smirks. "What Richie-Rich is trying to say is that his Dad is glad that he's shooting people now instead of playing hop-scotch with the neighbor girls. Ha, ha, ha! We've still got a long way to go to turn my little Ritchie into anybody's version of a man... chuckle!"
Trevor just grins right back at his boyfriend. He knows that his personality is rather unique. I wouldn't call him campy or effeminate or anything - but he is rather a flamboyant type of a person. Trevor loves to wear wildly colored clothes and doesn't see a thing wrong with playing hop-scotch or jump-rope on the playground at school. Add to that his very pronounced British accent, and he stands out like a hand with five thumbs. The school's bully boys have learned to leave him alone because Timmy has warned them away from him.
Timmy has become the guardian angel for a number of boys at our Middle School. He has two boyfriends of his own - Scooter and Possum Hughs. These little, red-headed twins seemed to spend the majority of their time latched onto Timmy like ticks on a deer!
Timmy is a black boy and, at age eleven, is already built like a line-backer. He has muscles in places where I don't even have places yet. And he doesn't try to hide his affection for the Hughs brothers either. I guess he figures that if you don't like it then you can just beat him up - and good luck in doing that!
We all start striping off our clothing and tossing them onto the bed. There aren't any shy boys here - shoot, we've already skinny dipped with one another a number of times. There are soon four, naked boys searching through towels to find swim suits.
Trevor grins while getting an eyeful and asks "So, where's Sammy and your brother at, Kyle? We heard that our plan worked and got those two back together. We thought they would be joining us today."
I look over at him, while sliding my suit on. I tell him, "I spent the night at Scully's place. This left Tyson free to invite Sammy to spend the night. It was their first ever night together. And I've got a feeling they'll be sleeping in kind of late this morning... har, har, har... snort!"
Everyone starts laughing and whistling and cheering! Marc, who is Sammy's little brother, chirps in with "Ya should've seen my brother for the last three days. He knew he was going to get to spend Friday night with Ty, and he was as nervous as a bride on her wedding night. He says they've only had the opportunity to give each other some kisses and do a bit of hand holding so far. All I needed to do was say, "Tyson," and wiggle my eyebrows at him. Oh my God... he would instantly become a nervous, blushing wreck. And so I did it just as often as I could... ha, ha, ha!"
"Awww... the poor baby!" Scully says. "You should cut Sammy some slack, Marc. We all like him a lot and are really happy that he and Tyson have gotten together. Besides, Sammy is the biggest kid at Jeremy's school and so that gives them a Timmy of their own to guard their backs."
"Yeah..." Jer and Mic agree together. And Jeremy continues "Me and Mic are pretty careful about how we act towards one another at school. But you never know when someone might add two and two together and come up with "queer"! But, Sammy has our backs now, and he's already put the fear of God into a few of our erstwhile bullies. The Jones brothers don't even say "boo" to us anymore. In fact, I haven't had my books slapped outa my hands even once all week."
"Me either," Michael adds. "In fact, guys are even starting to choose me in gym class for some of the games. I can't say I'm real thrilled about that, though. I haven't got the slightest idea what size bat to hit a football with... har, har, har... snort, snort!"
Everyone's finally dressed and heading out into the hallway, towels hanging over our shoulders. As we follow Trevor and Marc down the hallway, opposite the direction we came up in, Jeremy asks me, "will Sammy and Ty come over here later on, Kyle? We brought a paint-ball gun for Sammy. And we still have your brother's gun. With eleven of us we will have enough guys for two teams of five. The extra guy can referee - and we can take turns doing that."
"Oh yeah... they're coming all right. Sammy is so impressed with this house that he really, really wants my brother to see it. Besides, Tyson hasn't met most of these guys yet."
I holler up ahead to Trevor. "Hey Trev. Has your Dad met Scooter and Possum yet? Have the boys been behaving?"
Trevor and Marc stop in the middle of the hallway. They wrap their arms around one another and start howling like monkeys. Evidently, Mr Hamilton has gotten an earful of the Hughs brothers' profanity already.
"Oh, my, God..." Marc quips, when he is able to stop laughing. "One of them already called the other a "ball-sucking, butt-sniffing , goat fucker", while Richie's Dad was in the pool... har, har, har!"
Most of us are sitting on our butts now, right in the hall-way, laughing our fool heads off. Yep... that's our red-headed twins alright! They are small and look like little angels. Only, when they get riled at one another, an hourly occurance sometimes, they cuss like Satan! Actually, I think Satan could take lessons from these guys.
"So... so..." I'm trying to say, around a mouth full of giggles, "yer Dad hasn't tossed them out on their ears yet, Trevor?"
"Gosh, no!" Trevor giggles back. "Father's eyebrows sprang up and he got a total look of surprise on his face - then he looked over at me and Marcus. I think he was trying to judge my reaction because he knows I'm very careful not to use foul language at any time."
"Haa... haa... haa," Marc bellows! "You guys know Richie-Rich wouldn't say the word "shit" if you were trying to force it down his mouth with a toilet plunger... haa, haa, haa!"
That kicks everybody else's laughter up another notch and most of us are nodding our heads in agreement. Trevor looks skeptically at Marc and says "Of course I wouldn't say that word... you know that Marcus! Besides, talking while your mouth is full is rude!"
There are a few seconds of total silence as Trevor's remark sinks in. Then the hallway just totally erupts! Oh my God... my sides are starting to ache. Poor, little Trevor doesn't even know he's being funny! He figures he's just making perfectly good sense.
Marc's face is turning purple from his convulsive laughter! He's weeping because he's laughing so hard! Trevor just stands there, hands on his hips, and gives him the evil eye. He knows that he is somehow the cause of all this merriment - but he's not sure just why. And he's starting to do a slow burn towards Marc.
Marc is no dummy. He's learned to read Trevor like a book. And he knows exactly what he needs to do to keep peace. He forces himself to calm down and gives Trevor a wistful look.
"I don't know how you can be so unbelievably witty and charming, Trevy. God, I wish I was just half as smart and witty as you." Marc says as he reaches over and pulls Trevor into a tight hug.
Trevor just sighs. I think he knows he's being manipulated. But I truly think he would forgive his Marcus for almost anything. They give each other a smooch and then Scully pipes up again.
"So, what did your Dad say about the profanity pouring out of the twins, Trevor?"
"Well," Trevor replys, "he looked at me to see if I was offended and when I grinned at him he just grinned right back at me. I think he likes the idea that I am surrounding myself with some vulgar types - toughen me up, you know? And I get the feeling he really likes Possum and Scooter, and Timmy too."
We are treading down a back stairwell that seems to head right towards the indoor pool area. At the bottom we find more double doors - this time made of glass and giving a view of a group of splashing and playing boys.
We step through the doors on the heels of Marc and Trevor and I see a man, about early forties, bouncing on the end of the low board. I figure right off that this must be Mister Hamilton. He seems to be in trim enough shape, in his speedo briefs. The English and Europeans seem to favor this abbreviated swim wear, while our swimsuits seem to get baggier and baggier each year in America. It's just as well, I figure, cuz I don't think I'd be comfortable swimming in public in what is basically a colored jock-strap.
The man bounces into the air, does a perfect jack-knife and slices into the water with just barely a ripple. This guy is obviously athletic; something he probably aspires for his son to be as well. He swims over to the side of the pool, near us, and climbs out.
"Hello, hello!" He exclaims. "I'm Andrew... Trevors Father. But you chaps can call me Mister Hamilton... ha, ha, ha! Just a bit of humor - that. Actually, I know it makes young people uncomfortable to call their elders by first names. But Andrew, Andy or Mister Hamilton will work equally well. However, when you fellows are finally of drinking age... I expect you to call me, Andy."
We hear Timmy pipe up from inside the pool "All right, ANDY! So trot out the liquor and let's all get on a first name basis!" This is said, of course, to the delight of the twins - one clinging to each side of him - who both start a giggling fit.
"Sorry, lads," Mister Hamilton responds. "I'm afraid you'll be sticking to lemonade... for today, anyway. Can't have you all liquored up on the paint-ball field now, can we?"
Listening to the father is just like hearing a deeper toned Trevor. The man's diction and pronunciation is perfect and he sounds like old-school British. Not that I have any idea what the hell that's supposed to be, but I've heard it on television. At any rate, he doesn't exactly have a Bronx accent. He sounds like upper society; the way you would expect the master of this house to sound, I guess.
Trevor makes introductions, starting with Scully and me. We give the man a firm handshake and tell him we are pleased to meet him. Then, when Trevor introduces Michael and Jeremy, the man's eyes seem to light up and he gets a huge grin on his face.
"Well boys, I must say I am delighted to finally make your acquaintance. I can't tell you how happy I am to meet the boys who are doing such a remarkable job with young, master Hamilton here. Jolly good that... and you have my gratitude. In fact, I have endeavored to turn that old riding arena into a first-class, paint-ball field for you boys."
He looks over at Trevor and Marc and gives them a wink. "Plus," he adds, "I think you'll find a surprise or two out there today." This is accompanied by a giggle from the two boys, obviously they were in on it.
Mic and Jer look at one another with arched eyebrows, evidently trying to decide if the last remark is a good thing or a bad thing. But the elder Hamilton's good humor seems to break the ice. This man is a captain of industry, so getting on the good side of some eleven and fourteen year-old boys is a cake walk for him.
"Trevor tells me that there are two more of you chaps yet to make an appearance. I'm afraid I'll have to meet them at a later date as I'll need to take my leave of you all right now. Missus Hamilton and myself have a number of company functions to attend to and will be gone until later in the evening. But, Maria will be here to see that order is kept and prevent any serious damages... dear God, I hope... chuckle!"
Mister Hamilton gives us all a small wave and turns towards the doors we just entered from. As he starts walking away from us, Trevor yells out "Father... you forgot the overnighter!"
The man turns and announces, "Ah, yes! We have given Trevor permission to invite you all to spend the night if you wish. Of course, that is subject to your parents' approval. Maria has our cell phone numbers if your parents wish to discuss it with us. Well... ta, boys."
He turns and heads through the doorway. His announcement is met by some resounding cheers and whistles. Spend the night? Hell, I want to spend the rest of my life here! I celebrate by grabbing my Scully boy and flinging us both into the pool!
"Kersplash!" And when our heads resurface we both holler "yahoo"! The rest of the guys are right behind us, leaping and cannon-balling into the water. "Yes... yes," and, "hurrah!"
It's definitely a happy group of kids that are cavorting about in the water. I feel a somewhat familiar "splat" on the back of my head, and see Scully's swimsuit drifting past me. I bet ten seconds don't go by before there are eight more pair of swimming suits flying out onto the decking.
Timmy gets everyone's attention. "Listen, guys! Possum and Scooter can't swim: so don't anyone get the wise idea of throwing or pushing them into the pool! Anyone who does will get a thunk from yours truly!"
The twins lose their smiles when they hear this pronouncement. It's probably a bit of an embarrassment to have your friends discover that you can't swim at ten years of age.
"Hold on!" Trevor announces, and he climbs out of the pool. His shiny, white butt waggles as he trots towards an ornate-looking floor locker situated against one wall. He lifts the lid and pulls out two pair of bright flourescent water wings. Then he trots over to the twins.
"Here you go, fellows. Slip these on your arms and pull them up as high as they will go. They will keep you floating so you don't have to hold onto the sides of the pool all the time."
The twins thank him and slip the inflated cuffs up their arms. They are both at the shallow end of the pool but their toes just barely touch bottom to keep their noses above water. With the cuffs on they are floating with their entire heads above water.
"This is kool," one of them pronounces. "Heck yes," Timmy proclaims. "Now I can give you boys a bit of a swimming lesson. Thanks Richie."
The rest of us leave Timmy and the twins to their own devices as we start up a game of Marco Pollo in the deep end. My Scully-boy is "it" and I keep getting as close to him as I can without getting touched. I'm a heck of a swimmer and, besides, my longer reach is enough to keep me away from the Skull.
Scully keeps yelling out "Marco," and we respond with "Pollo". Well, most of us respond anyway. I look around to see why I haven't heard anything from Michael or Jeremy for awhile. And there they are under the diving board. Jeremy is holding onto the board with both hands and Michael has himself wrapped around his boyfriend. They are face to face and snogging away like crazy. I wave at the other guys to get their attention and point to our lover duo. They are so wrapped up in each other that they don't notice the absence of "Marcos" and "Pollos" being cried out. With huge grins on our faces, we all quietly swim up to surround them.
"Ahumm..." Marc says, breaking the silence, "do ya suppose they both have boners?"
This causes Michael to unlatch from Jeremy. I'd swear I heard a "popping" sound as the suction was released! He swivels around to see us all surrounding them and grinning at them like Cub Scouts eating Brownies! Michael, of course, does his imitation of a red, neon light!
"Ahh... come on, guys," Jeremy proclaims, "don't you guys have some game you can play in pairs?"
Well, my Mom didn't raise no dummy! I know perfectly well what he's hinting at and I look over at Scully and give him a huge grin. Now it's Scully's turn to do the neon light imitation. "Kyle Samuels," he says warily, "just what do you have going on in that naughty, little mind of yours?"
Instead of answering, I just reach over and grab him by the weiner and slowly tug him towards the side of the pool - he's definitely my favorite pull-toy!
"Ow, ow, ow!" He half-whined, as he follows me nice and docilely. There are certain holds you can put on a person to make them cooperate quite nicely; it's a hold that would probably get you penalized in a wrestling match, however! But my opponent is grinning because I'm not being rough by any stretch of the imagination. Speaking of stretch, the pull-string on my toy seems to be thickening up; it's more like a pull-rope now!
I lead Scully to the edge of the pool, with him giggling like a school girl the whole time. The rest of the guys are giggling as well cuz they can pretty well visualize what's happening here.
"Well then, Marcus..." I hear Trevor say, "I'll race you to the steps!" They are soon splashing away and Marc wins the race quite easily, settling his bum onto one of the steps at the shallow end of the pool. Trevor quickly perches on his lap facing him, and they immediately start playing post office.
Out in the pool, Timmy has the twins floating on their backs with their legs scissoring through the water. Both boys are doing a pretty fair job of propelling themselves across the surface. Timmy is grinning at them (more like at their little periscopes sticking out of the water) and he is calling encouraging comments out to them. None of the three seem to notice the fact that the rest of us have quieted down considerably. In fact, the splashing of their legs and Timmy's voice is all the sound that can be heard.
Well, that is, until this loud, deep-toned voice announced "Holy Crap! That's what you guys were doing the first time I came over here! Don't you know any other games? Ha, ha, ha...chortle!"
I glance up to see Sammy Smith and my brother, Tyson, standing at the pool's edge.
Scooter and Possum squeal and duck their bodies under water. They've never met these guys before and Sammy looks enough like a grown-up that they might think they're in trouble for skinny dipping.
My brother is a bright, glowing red as he stands there next to Sammy. He figures he's just caught us all in some pretty compromising positions and is probably embarrassed for us. What he doesn't realize is that we've all been making out in front of each other for weeks now. But my brother has only been out of the closet for about a week and hasn't been around any gay people - well, except for Scully and me kissing in front of him. He's clearly uncomfortable, and probably thinks Sammy is being rude by saying what he did.
Jeremy doesn't help him a bit, either, by yelling out "Hey Tyson ... how's it feel knowing we've all seen Sammy's weiner before you did? Har, har, har ... snort, snort!"
All the boys erupt at this and my poor brother goes from bright red to some shade of purple. Sammy is just braying like a donkey. "Yeah," he responds, "but you guys didn't get to touch it! He does!" That kicks the laughter up another notch and changes my brother's complexion from purple into the indigo range.
"You dork, Sammy!" Ty says, and then he shoves Sammy over the edge of the pool - clothes and all! Arms pin-wailing to try to keep his balance, Sammy lands "splat" on his stomach.
Of course none of us finds any amusement in that. Like hell we don't! The place erupts! Sammy is spluttering and the rest of us sound like dogs barking in a kennel.
Everyone hollers "way to go Tyson," and, "right on dude!" My brother's complexion starts toning down a bit as he stands there with a self-satisfied grin on his face.
"Hell Ty... what ya do that for?" Sammy asks, still sputtering.
"Duh..." Jeremy calls out! "You just let everyone know that Ty played with your peter last night... fool!"
A dim light of comprehension seems to dawn on Sammy's face. He gets a contrite look and quickly swims to the side of the pool next to Ty.
"I'm sorry, Ty, honest! You know my jaw can work without being connected to my brain."
Looking like a drowned puppy, Sammy stares up at my brother with his lower lip stuck out.
Tyson just shakes his head and grins at him. He says, "well, considering what these guys were all doing with each other when we walked in, I guess I don't have to feel real embarrassed."
Sammy, being forgiven, gives Ty a big grin in return and reaches up a hand for help in getting out of the pool. But when Ty reaches down and grabs the offered hand, Sammy gives a big yank and jerks Tyson into the pool with him.
"Kersplash!" And now it's Tyson's turn to sputter and gasp. Sammy reaches over to him and hauls him up alongside himself. He pulls Ty into a huge lip-lock before he has a chance to say anything to him. I swear to God, it has to last at least thirty seconds; Ty isn't trying to pull away or anything. In the meantime, Scooter and Possum have used their arm floats to make their way down into the deep end with the rest of us.
Ty and Sammy don't break their lip hold until one of the twins points at them and says "Who the fuck are these guys, anyway? And how come they're suckin' tongues in your pool, Trevor?" The twins had been preoccupied by their swim lessons and hadn't noticed that the rest of us had all been sucking face just a few minutes ago.
Sammy and Ty's eyeballs get as big as saucers when they hear this little pip-squeak talking like a truck driver. Then they notice that there are actually two of them floating side by side, wearing children's water wings. The twins are both ten but look closer to eight, which makes their language seem more shocking.
The other twin piped up with "You guys can't wear yer clothes in the pool. Get yer asses out and strip like the rest of us! Skinny dipping only... fools!"
Now Sammy and Ty have their jaws hanging open - partly because of what they just heard and partly because the rest of us are laughing our butts off. I swear to God, those little buggers either have no fear or no common sense. Not even Timmy could protect them from a guy Sammy's size if they were to get him riled.
Now, the only way you can tell these mutchkins apart is by a small scar on Scooter's forehead. That's how I know it's him, when he dog paddles over to Sammy. Scooter actually puts his little, freckled nose right up to Sammy's and tells him "Look, Godzilla... ya heard my brother! Either strip off them duds or start cluckin' like a chicken! And don't make me have to kick yer ass!"
Scooter is having trouble keeping a straight face; he's grinning into Sammy's face with their noses still touching. Sammy lets out a "whoosh" of air and starts braying like a donkey! He has that same, deep-throated laugh that Timmy has. Both he and Ty are finally laughing along with the rest of us.
"Yes, sir..." Sammy responds. "I guess me and Ty will just get our asses out of the pool and strip then... sir!"
Scooter looks back at the rest of us. He's pretty pleased at the tough-guy show he just put on for our benefit. He and his brother are giggling like crazy. Then Scooter turns back to Sammy, as Sammy is preparing to haul himself out of the pool. Scooter asks...
"Who the hell are you guys! You look like grownups. How the hell come we ain't ever seen ya before? How'd ya get so damn big? How'd ya..."
Sammy's out of the pool now and he reaches a hand underneath Scooter's armpit and one-hands him right up into the air! Scooter's just dangling there, two feet above the water, realizing what could happen. "Hey... hey... hey! Put me down, ya big, fuckin' gorilla!"
Sammy just grins at him and then looks over to the rest of us. "I don't know about you guys... but if I were a fisherman, I'd just have to toss this one back in!"
"No... NO! Don't drop me in the water!" Scooter's trying to swing his legs over towards the decking, only he's being held a couple feet higher than he can reach. It's pretty obvious he's panicky about the thought of being dropped into the deep end. Sammy takes pity on Scooter and lowers him down to the decking.
All this time the rest of us have been laughing so darn hard we're in danger of drowning. If I weren't clinging to the side of the pool, I'd be doing my laughing at the bottom. Even Timmy is doing his usual braying. I think he could sense that someone as big as Sammy wasn't going to do anything to hurt one of his little pip-squeaks.
The rest of us start climbing out of the pool and surrounding the three boys. All accept for Possum, who doesn't have enough upper arm strength to heave himself over the edge; Timmy sees his problem and reaches down to help lift him out.
It's pretty obvious to Sammy and Ty now that we're all naked as Jay birds; I guess thats why they don't seem to have any problem with stripping off their wet clothes in front of us. I decide that introductions are in order.
"Hey Ty... the two monsters who just kicked you outa the pool are Scooter and Possum Hughes. And this big, black dude is Timmy. The three of them are kind of a trio."
Ty reaches a hand towards Timmy; Timmy squeezes my brother's wrist and then bumps his knuckles against the back of Ty's hand. You know, my poor brother is such a dweeb; he only learned how to give a high-five a couple of weeks ago. I grin at his confusion and continue.
"And this guy is our host. This is Trevor Michael Hamilton, also known as Richie-Rich."
Trevor reaches over and offers a proper hand shake; much to Ty's relief. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tyson. You and Kyle have a strong family resemblance."
Ty grins at him and nods; he then looked over towards Marc and points at him. "Then, I guess you would be Marc... Sammy's brother... right?" Ty says as he gives Marc a big smile.
Marc grins back and says "Yeah... I guess I can claim him, since you seem to like the big pecker-head!"
Sammy is down to his boxers by now; he pushes them down to his feet and them kicks them towards Marc.
"Pecker-head, eh? You just wish you had this pecker-head, little bro!" Sammy announces as he swings his hips back and forth, causing that big shlong of his to start slapping his waist!
Scooter and Possum's eyes practically bug out of their little heads! "Holly Shit!" Possum exclaims. "No wonder you bray like a donkey! You gotta donkey cock!"
"All right, guys..." Timmy responds, a bit huffily, "put yer tongues back into yer mouths. I don't think Sammy's gonna let you guys play Tarzan and swing on his vine!"
"Hell, no!" Sammy says, "I got my Tarzan right here!" And he reaches over and wraps an arm around my brother. Poor Ty is in the process of slipping one leg out of his wet Levies when Sammy grabs him. Now he's perched on one leg like a crane.
"Cheeta..." he says, "let Tarzan go! Him need to finish stripping. Bad monkey!"
Sammy giggles at Ty's comment and let's Ty get back to slipping out of his clothes.
Meanwhile, Scooter and Possum have wandered over to Timmy and latched onto their big buddy's hands. I think they could tell he was a little put out by their obvious stares at Sammy's attributes. "It's okay, Timmy," Scooter says, "you're still our Tarzan." To make their point, the boys hunch over and start doing monkey hoots and making monkey faces.
"Hey, Timmy," Sammy hollers out, "feed em yer banana! That oughta shut em up!"
That gets us all to roaring! Poor Scooter and Possum are blushing as red as their freckles. It seems that just the offer of Timmy's banana was enough to shut them up. The three of them look at each other and then the twins put their hands up to their faces and start doing an embarrassed giggle. They haven't quite got their nerve up yet to try pealing Timmy's banana. And that has Timmy braying like a donkey again.
Tyson trots to the edge and throws himself into the water with a shout. You should see the smile on my brother's face; he has never felt like he fit in anywhere before, and it puts a lump in my throat to see him acting so happy. I jump in right next to him and give him a big hug.
He smilingly returns the hug, "What's that for little brother?"
"I'm just happy you're here ,Ty. And I'm happy you and Sammy are together." I manage to respond just before we are inundated by a huge splash right next to us.
Sammy's head pops up, complete with grin. "Good thing you guys are brothers, or I would be jealous right now."
The three of us are suddenly deluged by splashes around us as the rest of the troop jumps into the pool; all except for Scooter and Possum, who run towards the shallow end before jumping in. But they both throw themselves into the water, confident that their water wings will support them.
I feel someone wrap his arms around me and push himself against my back; seconds later Skull's cute head is snuggling against my own. Sammy responds to seeing this by pulling Ty in close for a hug. Soon everyone is paired off once again and involved in their own one-on-one activities; the only sounds to be heard are the red-headed twins whooping it up with Timmy at the other end of the pool.
There is just something about bobbing about in the water with your arms wrapped around someone special; if that someone happens to be naked... all the more special! I do hear the occasional giggle around me - of course some of the giggles are coming from me or Scully.
A few minutes later we hear the voice of Trevor's servant, Maria, coming over the intercom. "I am bringing some hot dogs to the sun room for you and your guests, Señor Trevor. It is lunch time."
Trevor hollers out "Okay, Maria. Thank you!" Then he turns to the rest of us and says "well, everyone, I guess we better find our swim suits so we don't embarrass poor Maria."
Maria had still been listening, as the intercom replied, "are you niños naked again? Madre mía!"
Her response causes all of us to giggle as we climb from the pool. Scooter and Possum immediately rush towards their suits, squealing because some grown-up knows they are naked and she is obviously coming in their direction. Timmy manages to get to their suits before they do; he grabs them and proceeds to hold them up over their heads.
"Gimme that, gimme that!" Possum squeaks. That lady is coming, Timmy!" He has a look of pure panic on his face; despite their bravado, the twins are still pretty shy about certain stuff. Being seen naked by a lady definitely isn't high on their list of things to do.
Timmy relents and hands the boys their suits. By this time though, the rest of us have put our suits on. Marc decides to have a little fun with the boys, so he says "Oh, there you are. Hi Maria!"
There are two squeals as the twins become a couple of red-headed blurs, throwing themselves into the pool - into the deep end! Luckily, their floats bob them right back up to the surface. But their suits, forgotten for the moment, are just floating away with the ripples on the surface of the pool. The boys are glancing around, trying to see who Marc was talking too. Shortly they realize there is no one else in the pool area but us boys.
"Marc... ya shit head! That wasn't fair!" they chorused.
Of course that has the rest of us howling as we watch the twins paddle over to their suits. They decide to put them on while in the comparative safety of the water; still mumbling and grumbling about a joke they don't find funny at all. Once they have their butts safely covered with their suits, they start to giggle along with the rest of us.
Both Sammy and Timmy reach a hand down to help the boys out of the pool as the rest of us begin following Richie towards the solarium doors. In no time we are all in the same room we ate lunch in last weekend. Everyone gathers around the tables and finds a seat; making it just in time as a rather hefty, short lady pushes a loaded cart through the door.
"Here you go, niños. Here are hot dogs and buns and whatever you like to put on them. I have brought chips and lemonade too." Maria announces.
She pushes the cart towards the center of the tables, causing a mad dash in her direction. You think there might be a few hungry boys here? She manages to escape before being trampled; her sacrifice acknowledged by the chorus of 'thank you' from the horde. Once at a safe distance, she watches and giggles at what must look like a pack of hyenas feeding on a carcass. She then points towards the Hughes twins. "It is too bad you got dressed so quickly. I will bet those two have very cute backsides!" She comments with a chuckle.
Since the twins are now appropriately attired, they just grin back at her. Scooter twists and gives her a butt wiggle, causing Maria to chuckle as she turns and leaves the room.
I turn my attention back to the food. Wow... she brought dishes of chili, salsa, and everything under the sun to put on the hot dogs. There's lots of it too; there seems to be enough for everyone to have three or four apiece. (Most of us do too; can't waste good food now!) It doesn't take long before everyone has stuffed themselves to capacity. We finally sit back, just sipping our lemonade, nibbling on some chips and digesting the big lunch. Trevor is the first one to speak up since the feeding frenzy started.
"So, fellows, everyone up for a paint-ball battle? Or, since you are all spending the night, we could go up to my room and play some games. We always have tomorrow to play paint-ball."
Jeremy shrugs his shoulders. "We have to get our paint-ball stuff from your room anyway, Richie. It might be a good idea to do a little digesting while playing some easier games than paint-ball. It'll be warmer outside in an hour or two anyway."
There doesn't seem to be any disagreement as we all file out towards the pool door. We will take the back stairs up to Richie's room, the same ones we came down.
"Say, Richie," Michael asks, "what did your Dad mean by we'll find a surprise or two on the paint-ball field?"
Marc and Trevor look at each other with wide grins on their faces. "Well now, Michael - I guess you'll just have to wait and see. A surprise is a surprise after all!" they reply as they both started giggling again.
Hmmm... I suppose he's right. We'll just have to wait and see. But I recall how Mic, Jer and Scully managed to scare the crap out of those two, and the twins as well, when we had our first paint-ball war. I think there might be some comeuppance in store for the geeky boys.
In the next chapter, the big sleep-over! And, of course, the second epic paint-ball battle. I wonder what Trevor's father has helped the two boys dream up in the way of surprises?
As always, you can reach the poor author, Paul Schroder, at firstname.lastname@example.org Don't be shy about writting, ya hear? And for quicker updates to the story, check out www.cornercafe.us
© 2007. No duplication without author's permission. No posting on another web site without approval. No going naked under your alter-boy robes!