Derbyshire. A small village in a quaint setting. Cute little gift shops, a small town hardware store, dry cleaners, and a gas station with just two pumps at the end of Main Street. Harper's home town.
"I havta go home this weekend. Can you take me?"
"Sure, why not?" Carey said automatically.
If he'd thought about it for more than a half of a second, he would have said, no. He needed sleep and his dick needed some down time. But, there it was.
When Carey rolled up to Harper's dorm in the Corolla, Harper was standing at the curb surrounded by three large garbage bags. Carey's car, an ancient Toyota Corolla, was his graduation gift from his parents. The car had been faithfully passed around the family for years to various cousins. He was the latest but certainly not the last one to get the light brown four door. It was one of the last cars to come with a built in cassette player. It no longer worked, by the way. The seats smelled from something. Carey was afraid to speculate. But, it got you from point "a" to point "b." And, being a Freshman, he was lucky to have a car on campus.
"Laundry," Harper said as she stuffed the garbage bags into the back seat.
A back pack and a book bag went into the trunk along with a small overnight bag.
"Like to travel light?" Carey asked when she finally plopped into the front seat.
Harper's home was just outside of Derbyshire, about 45 minutes away from campus. The busy freeway took them to an exit onto a two-lane highway that turned into a narrower asphalt road. Farms were quickly replaced by older as well as more contemporary large homes spread luxuriously apart. As the woods thickened on either side of the road, the houses disappeared behind dirt and gravel roads. Most of the roads were signed "Private" or "Priv." A couple of roads were blocked by large iron gates attached to wide brick posts.
"Slow down or you'll miss it," Harper ordered as they left Derbyshire. "There it is. On the left."
Carey squinted to see a narrow dirt road peaking out from the dense woods. A small sign post held three red reflectors and a tiny sign that simply said, "M."
They drove up the narrow road as it wound through the woods for nearly a mile. Eventually the woods opened up to reveal a rolling front lawn and an expansive two-story brick faced and wood framed house. The Maine mansion. A brick facade covered the two story middle section. Single story wings clad in wood siding on either side seemed to go on forever. The house looked like it was a block long. A separate multi-story garage sat off to one side. It appeared to be big enough to house an apartment above the car stalls. Two huge colonial style lanterns hung on either side of the double entry doors.
After parking on the circular drive in front of the house, Carey opened the trunk. Harper grabbed her back pack and book bag and ran to the front door. Carey followed with both of their overnight bags.
Bursting in the unlocked front door, Harper yelled, "Anyone home?"
Inside the front door, Carey looked around to find a large entry hall with a vaulted ceiling and a wide stairway to the second floor. A crystal chandelier approaching the size of ones he'd seen in hotel ballrooms hung from the ceiling. Double doors to the right were closed. A large open doorway to the left revealed a massive living room.
Without a word, Harper disappeared straight down the hallway to the left of the stairs. Shrugging his shoulders, Carey returned to the car and retrieved the garbage bags of laundry. He brought them into the house and dumped them on the floor in the hall.
Since Harper hadn't returned, he followed her route toward the back of the house through a corridor that led into the family room. It was easily large enough to hold 50 of their most intimate friends.
If he could describe the whole scene in one phrase it would be, "lifestyles of the rich and careless." Three large couches filled the center of the room surrounding the largest coffee table he'd ever seen. Each one was overstuffed and upholstered in seemingly unrelated colors and patterns. Mismatched, somewhat worn, chairs and ottomans were sprinkled around the room in a disorganized fashion. Newspapers, magazines, board games, and plates covered in crumbs and crumpled napkins were on the the tops of side tables and ottomans. One plate with the remnants of a sandwich on it balanced on the back of a sofa. Windows bordered by faded plaid drapes covered the entire back wall revealing a huge back yard.
"In here," Harper yelled.
Carey followed the sound of her voice through a swinging door to find Harper bent over with her head in the kitchen's double wide refrigerator. After a glance at her delicious ass, he turned his head to look at the kitchen. Just like the family room, oversized and filled with ultra high end Viking appliances, rich mahogany cabinets, and a huge island.
The kitchen was as cluttered as the family room. Dishes and dirty drinking glasses were piled on the counter. A large family style kitchen table was partially set with dishes and cutlery. A stack of Wall Street Journals and Barron's Magazines covered one side of the table.
Harper ate egg salad out of a Tupperware container as she perused the rest of the refrigerator's contents.
"Hungry?" she asked.
As he was opening his mouth to respond, a voice yelled from behind Carey.
"Crap on a stick! Harper!?!"
Carey jumped to the side and turned around.
"Hey Bell!" Harper yelled back as she stood up with one hand on the refrigerator door.
Standing before them was an extraordinarily good looking boy who appeared to be 15 or 16 years old.
He looked exactly like Harper. Just different. They shared many of the same features in entirely different bodies. As tall and broad shouldered as Harper was, he was slightly built and fine boned. Slender, about 5'7" or 5'8." Her skin was pink toned; her hair blonde. His complexion was olive toned; his hair was brown. They both had the same straight hair parted in the middle. Harper's fell to the middle of her back; his fell just past his shoulders. Same cat eyes, long nose, high cheek bones. Her lips were full and sensuous; his were thin.
The one thing he shared with Harper to a "t" was his voice. It was the male version of Harper's with that same sort of sexy, raspy, tone.
He wore an untucked bright white polo shirt and long baggy shorts. Bare feet.
"What are you doing here?"
"I live here, dipstick. Or…I used to," Harper said with a strong note of sarcasm. "Oh, this is Campbell, my brother. Bell, this is Carey."
After handshakes and how are ya's, Carey said, "Campbell. That's unusual for a first name."
"Family name," Bell responded with a smirk as he plopped down on a stool set against the island.
Carey stood across from Bell as Harper continued to taking small forkfuls of egg salad. Carey learned that Campbell, or Bell rather, was 15 years old, a Sophomore at Smythe Friends School. A posh private school, Smythe was a place for the rich and privileged to deposit their kids as they awaited admission to one of the Ivies or some select college.
A distant thud and a bang. The kitchen door swung open as Harper's father entered the room. There was no doubt he was Harper's dad. Standing 6'7," maybe 6'8," very fit, blond hair and blue eyes, it was as if Harper had been cloned from him. Carey knew where Harper's and Bell's voices came from. Mr. Maine's tone and raspiness matched theirs.
After a wave at Bell and a smile at Carey, he went directly to Harper and gave her a loud and boisterous kiss. He hugged her hard and affectionately, his arms fully wrapped around her, swinging her back and forth.
She pretended to resist but giggled nevertheless. "Dad!" When he finally pulled back, she gestured, "Dad, this is Carey."
Mr. Maine let go of Harper as he extended his arm and shook Carey's hand with an iron grip that made Carey wince.
"Carey! Welcome to the Maine Manse!"
"Nice to meet you Mr. Manse." Carey immediately blushed. "I mean, Mr. Maine."
They all laughed.
With a big smile and still chuckling he said, "Call me Tucker."
"As in Tucker Carlson?"
All three Maines laughed again.
"Well ya, I suppose. Could be, but no." Then more seriously, "Family name."
Carey had to swallow hard to suppress his own laughter.
After some chit chat, Mr. Maine excused himself and went back through the family room door. Returning moments later with what appeared to be a generously sized Scotch on the rocks, he rejoined the conversation.
"So, I gotta ask," Carey said. "Where does the name 'Tucker' come from?"
"My grandfather was Preston Tucker," with a nod.
When Carey gave him a blank stare, he followed up.
"You know. The automobile."
Carey's blank expression remained.
"The Tucker. He invented it," as he took a gulp of his drink.
Picking up his vibrating phone, he said, "Babe! Food!"
Listening for a few seconds, he responded, "Got it!" And put the phone down. "The Madre is on the way with dinner."
They bantered away for a couple of minutes after which Bell looked down at his own phone. He quickly left the kitchen. Another boy accompanied him when he reappeared less than a minute later.
"Hey Tommie!" Harper and Tucker said almost simultaneously.
Enter a well built square jawed kid with short blonde wavy hair. Built like a linebacker, he was about Carey's height. He wore a t-shirt with the arms cut off that accentuated his ample biceps. The kid was ripped.
"Gonna stay for dinner?" Tucker asked.
"Sure, Mr. M." Tommie replied.
After Carey was introduced, he found out Tommie was a junior at the regional high school. The football team's top running back and, apparently, a top prospect being courted by major college football programs. Tommie and Bell seemed to be good buddies which seemed odd to Carey. Tommie was a total jock. Bell, at least for now, was mostly an unknown. Gamer, science nerd?
Before they were able to resume their conversation, Harper's mother breezed in. Wearing yoga pants and a light pink sweatshirt, arms laden with four pizza boxes. Just as Harper was to her father, Bell was to his mother. Thin, fine features, brown hair that fell onto her shoulders. Olive skin.
Once the pizza boxes were deposited on the counter, she went immediately to Harper, gave her an affectionate greeting and a peck on the cheek. Next she went to her husband, took his head in her hands, and gave him a kiss.
Her biggest greeting came for Bell. "Hi Ding Ding!"
She said it in a high pitched, almost falsetto voice. As she threw her arms around him and hugged him, Bell bent his head around to see if Carey was watching.
Carey had to chuckle to himself. A first. Someone with a nickname for their nickname.
"Big guy!" She exclaimed as she threw her arms around Tommie and gave him a big hug.
As Harper's mom approached Carey, he looked at her with a smile. Her name must be Bitzee. I know it's Bitzee. It's gotta be Bitzee.
When she extended her arm to take his hand with both of hers, she said, "Hi! You must be Carey. I'm Wheezie!"
Carey couldn't contain himself. He practically spat out a giggle.
He couldn't help it. The words just tripped off of his tongue. "Family name?"
Wheezie's expression froze for an instant before her smile got even bigger. "Why yes!"
The moment came and passed.
"Let's eat! Tucker exclaimed.
Frantic activity of setting pizzas out on the kitchen table ensued. Paper plates and napkins appeared out of nowhere. Bottles of water and cans of soda flew out of the refrigerator. Tucker disappeared momentarily only to reappear with a newly refreshed Scotch for himself and a glass of white wine for Wheezie.
Conversation was light and fun as they sat around the table inhaling the pizza. Carey endured the usual parental interrogatories about his background. As he talked about himself and listened to the others comment, he could see Bell watching him intently out of the corner of his eye. It was hard to determine what he was thinking. His nonchalant expression with his jaw slightly turned to one side made him look distant and thoughtful. Dropping all pretense of pretending not to notice, he looked directly at Bell. Beautiful brown eyes, full eyebrows, and long sexy eyelashes. As he glanced to the side, Carey noticed Tommie watching Bell watch him. The spell broken, Bell turned to Tommie. Blushing almost imperceptibly he looked down at his plate.
After dinner everyone split in different directions. Bell and Tommie went upstairs. Wheezie grabbed a second or third glass of wine and announced she was going to shower. Tucker retired to the family room with yet another Scotch and some newspapers. Harper directed them back to the front hall to retrieve their overnight bags. The garbage bags filled with laundry remained just inside the door where Carey had dropped them.
Dragging their bags, Carey followed Harper up the long staircase to the second floor. Long corridors went left and right from the landing. Numerous doors on either side and wall sconces made the corridors look like the hallways you might find in a hotel. Halfway down on the right, Harper kicked a door open with her foot and jerked her head at him to follow.
Harper's room could best be described as all girl. Stuffed animals piled on the four poster bed, movie posters on the walls, and a large doll house in one corner. Heavily draped windows and a tall ceiling. A bathroom was visible through a door on the near side of the room.
"Is this going to be ok?" Carey asked.
Harper waved her hand dismissively.
"Not only will my parents not know, they won't care."
Carey shrugged his shoulders as he unzipped his bag. Harper jumped on her bed, swept a bunch of the stuffed animals on the floor, and motioned him over. Sitting cross legged across from each other, they alternately kissed and talked.
"What's with all the WASPy stuff?" Carey asked with a chuckle.
"I know. It's ridiculous. What a fucking cliche." Then adding, "Of course, at least one of our ancestors came over on the Mayflower."
"Are they thinking I'm son-in-law material?"
"Maybe. They do that with every guy I bring home. Why not?"
She looked at him, rather seriously.
"Have you brought a lot of guys home?"
She kissed him.
"Ya. A lot!"
Carey laughed. He kissed her back.
"Hmmm." A purr and a sigh. "I'm gonna take a shower. Bring me up a glass of water, ok?"
"You got it princess," he said as he swung his legs onto the floor.
Having kicked off his shoes and pulled his socks off before he got on the bed with Harper, Carey padded bare foot down the hall toward the central staircase. As he passed a half open doorway, he glanced into what was obviously Bell's room.
Tommie was standing on one side of Bell's bed as he was about to put one knee up on it. He had stripped down to a pair of boxers. His muscular smooth chest, well developed pecs and pink nipples were dramatically side lit by a bedside lamp. Strong hips and thick legs were covered in curly blond hair.
Bell was on the bed laying on his stomach with his head toward the foot of the bed. Even though Tommie's body shielded much of Bell's, it was obvious he was naked. His smooth olive toned shoulders almost shined in the soft light from the lamp. As he raised himself up on his elbows to see what was going on, Carey could see his perfect brown nipples. He also got a glimpse of the attractive sweep of his lower back as it first dipped to his waist and rose to the top of his ass cheeks.
Carey was stunned; frozen in mid-stride. Bell just stared at him, a pugnacious expression on his face. Slowly and deliberately, Tommie put his knee back down on the floor, walked a couple of strides to the door, stared hard at Carey, and slowly swung it shut.
Carey shook his head and asked himself, what next? He tiptoed down the rest of the hallway, down the steps, and into the family room. Tucker was either asleep or passed out in a chair with his legs flung straight out in front of him and a Wall Street Journal open and laying across his lap.
Carey walked through to the kitchen, retrieved a glass with ice and water for Harper and returned to her room. As he passed Bell's room, he could hear the soft drumbeat of music through the closed door.
Carey's latest term for their couplings. Harper jumped him as soon as she got out of the bathroom. Usually she liked to be on top so she could control everything, especially her orgasms. Tonight, Carey was able to wrestle himself around so he was on top for a change.
Harper lay on her back with her butt elevated by two pillows so he could enter her more easily when he got up on his knees. As he thrust into her, she brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. With her considerable strength she scissored him tightly with her knees. Carey honestly thought he was going to lose consciousness. The pressure left him gasping for breath. After they both came to jolting orgasms, she finally loosened her grip. He fell on top of her.
They lay there for a long time before Harper slowly pulled the covers over them and they fell into a deep sleep.
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