Dooby Rhymes with Scooby

                                                                                        by Jamie Haze 

 

Part 7



"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.

                                                                                                                                                        

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