Somerset Farm 

                                                                                        by Jamie Haze



At three forty-five Doug was already pacing the cobble stones of the
broad empty parking court in front of the equally vacant mansion. He
didn't want Paul to drive up there and then have to wait around for him,
sitting in what Doug assumed would be a rattle trap pickup truck that a
farm boy whose father farmed one hundred acres could afford to buy.
Parking a new tractor there at noon was okay, because there was little
chance that it leaked oil yet, but if Paul's truck leaked anything, Doug
knew he'd have to clean up the spots first thing Tuesday morning. A car
parked there had leaked transmission fluid, a few days before Patrick left,
and he watched Patrick spraying it with degreaser and then having to wash
that away too, all the while calling the unknown driver some very
unflattering names, half of which were in Gaelic. Doug absently wiped away
a droplet of water that ran from his hair down his forehead.
He'd very carefully started his cleanup routine early so he would
have time to do his laps in the pool. Then he'd be out front before Paul
got there. He decided that he was either too efficient at straightening
up, or did his laps in record time, whichever, he was early. Doug normally
did his regular pool time at home, but since he wasn't going to be home for
three days, he decided he'd better do a few while he was at work, since the
farm pond Paul mentioned would be fine for swimming but pretty shitty for
doing laps and especially turns and kicking off. At five minutes to four,
Doug heard a powerful engine laboring up the steepest part of the drive.
"Now who the fuck can that be?" Doug asked himself.
The engine sounded like a big diesel, but he couldn't see it until
it rounded the last sharp curve. The curve was unnecessary, but
intentional, as the whole beautiful estate was built to impress visitors.
The facade of the perfectly balanced Georgian mansion was invisible until a
visitor got through that last bend, then there it was, and there was a new
red Dodge three-quarter ton four by four pickup truck equally suddenly
visible to Doug. His mouth dropped open. Paul was driving, and stopped
alongside him. The electric window lowered. Paul was grinning from ear to
"Well? Get in, time's wasting." Paul instructed. Doug opened the
door, then backed away and fumbled with his shirt. "What the fuck are you
doing? Just get in. You can't hurt the seat, it's leather, and you're
clean, I see you just got out of the pool." He giggled at Doug's wounded
Doug climbed up and in because of the oversize tires, and carefully
closed the door without slamming it. "How'd you know I was in the pool?"
He asked while trying to look innocent, and failing.
"Because dope, your hair is still wet."
"Oh. Ya. Would you believe I fell in? I can't ever get near the
fucking edge without falling in. I'm just clumsy I guess." Doug had to
satisfy his curiosity about the truck. "Is this yours, or does your dad
just let you drive it back and forth to work?"
Color rose to Paul's cheeks. "It's mine. It was a graduation
present." Doug looked at him doubtfully. "You know, high school
graduation? You get presents?" He elaborated sarcastically.
"Wow! My dad's so cheap, he'd never give me a gift like this."
Paul started his truck forward, back down the main drive. Doug looked up
suddenly. "Not this way, go down the service drive it's closer." Paul
changed course and entered the graveled drive that branched off the paved,
cobble stone guttered main drive. When they got to the tiny private road
that dead ended when Mrs. Gibbs' property began, Doug told Paul to turn
right immediately on a paved unmarked driveway.
"Where are we going?" Paul asked frowning, with a quizzical glance
at his new friend.
Doug smiled and pointed forward. "Don't worry I won't get you
lost." The Henderson house was carefully sited in the middle of it's one
hundred acres, and like the Somerset Farm big house, couldn't be seen until
the last moment when the drive branched less than a hundred yards away.
Paul glimpsed the facade of a large two story colonial, before Doug pointed
to the right branch which circled to the side.
He parked in front of a four car garage, and turned off the
ignition. In the following silence, he looked at Doug. "All right, I'll
bite, what are we doing here?"
Doug looked at him strangely. He realized that Paul didn't know
him, his family or where he lived. "I don't think there's anyone home, and
I thought since you have a truck, we may as well rob the place. We can get
everything into the back." He giggled at seeing Paul's expression change
from friendly questioning to one of anger. "We're here because this is
where I live. Dah, remember I need to get my stuff and make sure it's all
right with my parents?" Doug jumped out and headed for the kitchen door.
Paul followed, but stopped to put on his shirt. Doug looked back. "You
don't need that. My Mom gets Playgirl and I'm sure she'd like to see
someone who looks better than the centerfold in the flesh." Paul stopped
dead in his tracks. Doug giggled, "Don't worry, she probably won't ask you
to shed your shorts, but she won't stop you if you want." Paul grinned,
shrugged and tossed his shirt back in the truck, then followed Doug inside.
Doug waited for him just inside the door. That small room was
called the mud room by his mother. Anyone might think that a mud room was
where you stamped your feet before you went into the rest of the house, but
in the Henderson's, if anyone got a speck of dirt on the white glazed tile
floor, the miscreant could expect to get stomped by Doug's mother. She was
a clean freak, she chased dust, and dirt was out of the question. The
housekeeper was just as rabid.
"Is anyone home?" Paul asked in a loud whisper.
Doug shrugged, "Probably, my dad's bay is still up, so he hasn't
gotten home yet." He grinned when he looked down at Paul's size twelve
shit kicker boots. "Stomp your feet really good, my Mom doesn't like me
tracking dirt in." Doug demonstrated with his running shoes. Paul
followed his example. His boots made nice loud thunks on the floor. "Mom?
You home?" Doug called while his big friend stomped.
The door into the kitchen flew open. "Douglas Scott Henderson!"
Doug's mother shouted, just short of a screech. The stomping and shouting
were almost a ritual whenever Doug walked in the house, because he thought
a laundry room should be called just that, not a mud room especially if he
was never allowed to get any dirt on the damn floor. His mother ended the
rest of her standard tirade when she saw Paul. Her eyes widened and she
stared briefly, and couldn't resist looking at his total body, with just
the briefest pause at his tight shorts. She grinned at her only son.
"It's not nice to play jokes on your mother Douglas. I'll get you back for
this." She ignored Doug further and looked back at Paul. Paul was staring
daggers at Doug just then when he realized that he was an unwitting
accomplice to something.
"Oh, hi Mom! I wasn't sure you were still home." Doug lied. "We
were just being real sure we left all the dirt in the MUD ROOM!" Doug
shouted the last two words. "We wouldn't want to track up your nice clean
house." Doug scooted behind Paul to use him as a shield. He peeked over
Paul's shoulder. "Mom, this is Paul Wilcott. He's starting college, and
he's working on the farm this summer to help out his parents." Paul gave
him an elbow in the solarplexus, but he rushed on making believe the blow
didn't hurt, and that he could breathe. "Paul, this is my dad's first wife
Martha. We let her live here to cook and clean." The first wife bit was a
spur of the moment thing. Doug grinned at his mother's reaction. "Paul
came up to the house today at noon to swim and have lunch. He asked me if
I wanted to hang out with him and his little brother this weekend. I said
okay, and we just stopped in so I could get some stuff."
He didn't wait for them to exchange pleasantries before he dutifully
lifted one foot at a time to have them inspected by his mother, who still
blocked the kitchen door before she checked his feet so he could get
further into the house. After she approved she moved and let him pass.
She telegraphed a swipe to the back of his head, and he ducked in time. He
stopped at the foot of the back stairs to giggle when he saw that Paul was
busy lifting each of his monster clod hoppers exactly as Doug had done,
while ignoring his mother's hand she'd extended to welcome him. "Mom!
He's a guest. Let him in the damn house. Shhheeessse!" Doug started up
the stairs taking them two at a time, giggling all the way. "That went
well." Doug thought.
He had just gotten to his room when his mother shouted, "Skinny
little twerp!", at him. Doug winced. Little, and skinny were not two of
Doug's favorite words. Little didn't hurt anymore, because he was growing
fast and already taller than his mother, but skinny was in his mind, right
on target. It didn't matter that he possessed a classic swimmer's body,
with widening shoulders, already pronounced pecs, well developed arms and
legs, a nonexistent belly and almost no hips or ass. He wanted a body
exactly like Paul's, so he considered himself skinny.
Doug got out a small gym bag and began to fill it with enough
clothing for three days, even though he knew, and was excited by the fact
that he wouldn't be wearing many for the entire weekend. Not packing any
would raise questions, as would not making sure that everything was
suitably balled and wrinkled before he returned home, so it would appear
that he'd worn them. His mother was a great detective, and Doug took pride
in his ability to out wit her. When he was packed, he impulsively stopped
and grabbed his new camera nestled in it's bag of accessories.
The camera was a gift from his father. It had been his father's
until he bought a new one with more features, but since he rarely used the
old one, it was all but new, and Doug thought photography was a neat hobby,
so he was going to learn how to use it. He found the kitchen empty when he
got back there. He heard his mother talking, actually lecturing, on her
favorite topic, colonial antiques, really good stuff, with which she'd
furnished every room in the house except the family great room, the den and
his father's study, really his work room he used when he brought stuff home
from the office to work on.
Doug put his things on the kitchen table and was about to go and
search for them, when the door to the dinning room swung open and they
returned. The first thing he saw, and gawked at was the Coke can that Paul
held, and obviously carried with him on the tour of the first floor, which
Doug always called the museum. He decided that his mother really liked
Paul and/or his fantastic body, because he and certainly none of Doug's
friends were even allowed to trespass in the formal parts of the house
often, and never carrying food or drink. Doug smirked with his eyebrow
raised when he watched his mother talking with Paul, and constantly
allowing her eyes to feast on his body, probably imagining how that body
would look if it was naked with a hard on and getting fucked by it. Doug
felt his cock growing at the image he'd burned into his mind of exactly
that happening to him just a few hours earlier, and how he looked forward
to seeing it working over him again, as soon as they got to Paul's house.
First though, he had to get Paul away from his mother. Paul was unwise to
display too much interest in all the old shit his mother collected. Once
she warmed up, she was difficult to get away from.
"Enough already Mom! Paul has to get home and feed the chickens and
slop the hogs. This is only a three day weekend, dad will be home and I'll
bet you haven't finished packing, and he'll be pee-o'd because you'll be
stuck for hours in holiday traffic, which you're going to get stuck in
anyway, but he'll blame you." Doug ran out of air, but he described the
scenario accurately enough, and his mother wound down enough for Doug to
get in back of Paul and push him toward the door.
After what seemed to be an hour later, with all the do's and don'ts,
cautions and carefuls injected into their leave taking, they started back
down the driveway with smiles and waves. The parting shot from Doug's
mother was, "Have a good time!"
Doug's answer was the same, "We will, you too! Bye!" Doug raised the
window and turned toward Paul giggling. "Will we ever. Sorry about the
way she was looking at you." Doug grinned, "Do you think there are lady
lechers? I do, you just met one. Good thing old dad still keeps her
happy, or she'd have jumped you in a heart beat.
Paul laughed. "You're a weird little fucker, you know that?" He
eyed the large camera case Doug was holding on his lap. "By any chance is
that a camera? Don't tell me you're into photography."
"Not yet really. My dad gave me this, its his old one. I'd like to
learn how to use it. I want to take some of you and your brother this
weekend. Only wearing clothes of course, and nothing too rude, I'd never
be able to get them developed. I did bring along a new Speedo though. I
thought maybe I could talk you into wearing it for some pictures." Doug
started laughing. "You can say no if you want, since its mine, I always
get them two sizes smaller than my waist size, which would make it a
twenty-six, but a picture of you wearing it would be as sexy as hell. Shit
I could rent out the fucking picture to my Mom! I'd never have to work
"It just so happens that Marc is very much into photography. He'll
have you taking professional pictures in no time, and I wouldn't worry
about getting them developed, the little fucker has his own dark room. Say
Doug, why the fuck are you working? You must get a pretty fair allowance,
and you're only fifteen."
"I do get spending money, sure, but my father's the original cheap
skate. I wanted a new sound system for my birthday, and I even showed him
the one I wanted in an electronics store so there wouldn't be any mistakes.
So it was a little expensive, but I don't think twenty-four hundred dollars
is all that much to spend on his only fucking kid, do you?" Doug didn't
wait for Paul's answer. "Anyway he didn't say, no, shit he didn't say
anything. Then along comes my birthday, and I went ahead and cleared
spaces for everything in my book cases so I could put it together right
away. The first clue that I got fucked was the box. It was big, but there
was only one, and there should've been three I think. I opened the fucking
box, thinking they were hiding the others. Guess what? He got me a
fucking boom box. No one has boom boxes anymore, and this one didn't even
play CD's. The fucking thing must have been on clearance or it was
stolen." Doug was on a roll and continued without Paul's prompting. "When
I asked why he didn't get the one I wanted, he just pointed out back at the
fucking lap pool he built for me last fall. It wasn't even a gift and I
didn't ask for it."
"Lap pool as in a swimming pool long enough for you to practice in?"
"Ya, twenty-five meters, but only three lanes. I like to work out a
lot, so it comes in handy." Doug dismissed his father's extravagance. "But
the reason he built it was he wants me to swim in the Olympics, just
because he wrecked his knee playing fucking basketball of all things and
couldn't compete in the Nationals that year when he was in college. He
wants my medals. I guess I'm pretty good locally, you know in this state,
but there's forty-nine other fucking states, and that's a bunch of swimmers
to beat out, then there's the best in the world to burn. If I ever got to
the Olympics and won a metal, it would be aluminum sure as shit." Doug
sighed and stared out the front window without seeing anything. "Still it
would be nice..."
"Holy shit!" Paul exclaimed. "Your..."
Doug interrupted with a storm of giggles, "Nope, it never was holy,
and after you got done with me at lunch, I don't expect to shit until next
Paul laughed but tried not to. "Wise ass. Now cut the bull shit,
you still haven't told me why you're working."
"I didn't? Yes, I did, you just weren't paying attention. I'm
working to buy my own fucking sound system, that's why."
"You'll never earn that much in one summer."
"I know that goof ball. My wise ass father told me if I wanted
something that expensive, that I should go out and get a job so I could buy
it myself. He's pulled that before, but this time I decided I would. I
called Mrs. Gibbs and asked her if she needed any summer help, and she
hired me. When dad found out he was actually impressed, and he told me
what you just said, that I'd never earn enough. Then straight out of the
blue, he said that if I worked all summer, he'd kick in the difference."
Doug started giggling like a banshee, then between giggles he added, "Of
course he didn't tell me I had to save what I earned, so you can just call
me nigger rich."
Doug stopped his laughing when Paul turned into a wide paved
driveway, that was gated, and the gate was closed. Paul pushed a button in
the overhead console, and they opened. Beyond the gates, the drive was
bordered by white painted board fencing off into the distance which closed
off mowed fields. "Wow, where the fuck are we going?" He looked back to
see what road they'd bee on before they turned off. "I've been on this
road, it's the Old North Branch Road. I've noticed these gates too. Who
lives here?"
"I do." Paul touched the button again and Doug watched the gates
close behind them. "Holy shit, you said you lived on a little farm."
Paul laughed, "See those fields? This is a farm. It's about a
hundred acres, just like I said."
Doug frowned at Paul. "If you live here, why the fuck are you
working? And don't bull shit me about earning spending money for college
It was Paul's turn to giggle. "Gottcha! I actually did all the
farm work until last year. All our equipment was old shit that was always
breaking down and it just wasn't worth buying new stuff, so my dad leased
the fields. I enjoy farm work and wanted to keep busy, so dad called
Mrs. Gibbs about giving me a job on her farm. What I earn pays for fuel
for this beast anyway. Simple." Paul shrugged as they started down a long
incline to a stone bridge that crossed a fair sized stream.
Doug peered down at the water. "That looks like some great trout
water." The road curved right sharply and followed the stream. He kept
his attention on the water and didn't see that they were approaching a
planted mass of evergreen trees which blocked the view of the drive
ahead. He noticed that the considerable lawn areas were freshly mowed.
"You've got more lawn than Mrs. G., who mows all this?" Two weeks earlier
he wouldn't have noticed.
"Marc. Its one of his chores. It looks like he finally got his ass
in gear today. Dad probably laid the law down before they left." Paul
slowed among the trees as the drive turned left and began to climb the
slope above the stream.
Doug turned his attention to where they were going since they left
the water's edge. The evergreens ended suddenly, opening up at the top of
the slope. Doug's mouth fell open as he spied Paul's home. It was a huge
sprawling contemporary, built of fieldstone, glass and timber. The house
sat on a knoll about two hundred yards back and fifty feet above a lake
which curved away up a small valley. A small building which matched the
main house squatted at the water's edge, and a large terrace jutted into
the lake in front of the building. Doug guessed it was a boat house. Paul
continued on the drive which curved around the house to what was actually
the front of the house on the side opposite the lake, but instead of
pulling up to the garages, he drove another fifty yards to the front of a
huge steel barn. He shut off the ignition and honked the horn.
Doug raised an eyebrow. "How come such a big ass barn for such a
small farm, and it looks new too," he added. "do you have animals?"
Paul grinned. "The barn isn't quite what it seems. I don't know
where Marc is, but he'll be around as soon as he sees the truck. Come on,
I'll show you around up here before we go down to the bunk house." Before
Doug could ask, Paul explained, "That's the building down on the lake.
Marc and I sleep there in the warm weather, it's more private."
Doug followed Paul to double pedestrian doors on the side of the
barn facing the house. He pulled open one side, stepped back and bowed
Doug into the barn. Doug froze in his tracks, just inside the door. "Holy
mother fuckin' shit!" He mumbled as he scanned the interior.
What appeared to be just a new barn from the outside, actually
concealed most of the amenities found in a small college fieldhouse. The
doors where Doug stood were centered in the huge room. Just to his right
was a tennis court, and on his left, in an area equal in size sat just
about every piece of exercise and workout equipment imaginable. Then
behind the two areas there was a full size basketball court, complete with
crank up backboards. These were both in the up position, because the
hardwood floor was all but hidden by neatly arranged men's gymnastic
apparatus surrounding a floor exercise mat. The vast area was brightly
lighted by sky lights which ran down either side of the building's roof
ridge. Paul allowed the door to close and nudged Doug. "Pretty neat huh?"
Then he added defensively before Doug could comment, "Your dad built you a
big lap pool, mine gave me my very own gym. My dad wants me to go to the
Olympics just as badly as yours does. You know they should meet sometime.
I'll bet they'd be instant friends. Come on we can peel out of our shit in
the locker room. I told you we don't wear clothes around here. Marc and
me I mean. Mom and Dad are used to us now." Paul told Doug as he led the
awe struck younger boy to the locker room. "I never liked clothes ever
since I was little. I'd take them off as fast as my mother got me dressed
and she wasn't looking. Then of course Marc went monkey see, monkey do,
when he was old enough."
Doug's awe wasn't lessened when he looked around the locker room.
"This is nicer than the country club, Even the poker table." He added while
he pried off his shoes, and pushed off his shorts to kick them neatly on
top his shoes.
Just then they heard the outside door crash against the side of the
steel building, and a voice hollered, "Where the fuck have you been? I'm
starving and its your turn to cook." Marc stood in the doorway and stopped
his complaints when he saw Doug standing by the poker table in all his
naked freckled glory. Marc was dressed identically, except he was wearing
a pair of decrepit tennis shoes, and a string of intense blue beads which
hugged the base of his neck and matched his eyes. Marc was a younger
edition of his older brother, but still growing. He was a couple of inches
shorter, had the same general musculature, but leaner, the same eyes, long
curling lashes and arched eyebrows. A pair of rosy cheeks showed through a
deep golden tan. The only remarkable difference was that Marc was blond, a
bit curlier than Paul's, and he wore it much longer. Marc's eyebrow shot
up in question as his gaze shifted to Paul.
"Hi Marc! I was wondering where you'd gotten to." Paul forced a
giant nervous grin. He was tense because until he saw Doug, he never
dreamed that he would ever have sex with another guy, not to mention
afterward, promptly invite him home for a long weekend of more sex. "Doug
Henderson, this is my brother Marc. Doug works for Mrs. Gibbs too, but
he's the gardener at the big house. I went up there to take a swim at
lunch time, and well, I kind of invited him home for the weekend. I
thought you might get to be friends, er, sort of, well, you know." Paul
ran out of air, took a deep breath and added, "Doug is into photography
too, and brought his camera."
Marc grinned suddenly and crossed the space between he and Doug in
two strides. He offered Doug his hand. Doug grinned back foolishly and
shook hands enthusiastically. "Photography? Really? Wow! Where's your
stuff?" Marc asked, then looked Doug up and down carefully. "No wonder he
brought you home. You look good enough to eat on the spot, but I think we
should wait until we have dinner. Now where's your camera? Damn you are
beautiful. Are you a swimmer? You look like you are. You're well muscled
but not muscle bound like my big asshole brother. Can I take some shots of
you? You'll photograph really well. I'm tired of shooting just him. I've
got thousands of prints of him." Marc nodded in Paul's direction. "Say
what do you like to do?"
"Do?" Doug was pleased that he was able to get at least one word in
the conversation.
"Yea, like just fuck or get fucked? Of course we like to do
everything. Where's your camera, get it and I'll show you my darkroom,
then we can go down to the bunk house where we live in the summer. You can
take all the pictures you want of us doing anything, I can develop them.
Come on." Marc grabbed Doug's hand and towed him out of the field house.
Doug detoured to the truck and retrieved his camera case and gym bag. Marc
took the bag to carry, then he casually put his arm around Doug's waist and
allowed his hand to drift down to Doug's little ass as they walked to the
house. "This is going to be a weekend to remember."





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