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Authors: Christina Dudley
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the case may be.”
Jonathan served. Tom bumped. Greg set. Rachel…bumped it easily back over the net.
“Rachel!” hollered Greg.
“Oh, what? Can’t we just have a decent rally for once, instead of always trying to put it away? This is stupid pool volleyball, not the Olympics!”
Greg’s well-defined chest heaved.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “This is for fun. Let’s have fun.”
“Great,” muttered Tom. But he hit another easy shot back to Jonathan.
“ Barf! ” said Julie, as Rachel traced a heart across Greg’s pecs .
Greg gave his girlfriend a wavery smile.
“ Aww …” said Caroline. “Look, Eric. It’s like Elizabeth and Todd in Sweet Valley High .”
“Only sweeter,” said Eric. He crouched, sprung with a “ kuh-chuh-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-chuh ” and spiked the ball directly in front of the distracted Greg. It smacked the water with a flat sound, spraying Greg full in the face.
“That’s it !” Greg roared over Caroline’s and Julie’s giggles and Tom’s irritated “Wake up, Perkins!” He grabbed the ball and launched it over the net at Jonathan. “Serve it, Beresford! No more Mr. Nice Guy!”
This threat provoked another stifled snort from Caroline, but I think the blood must have been pounding in Greg’s ears because he didn’t seem to hear. Eric did. He caught his sister’s eye and gave the barest wink. A twitch.
Jonathan overhand served, a line drive which Tom barely managed to get under. Greg smashed it Eric’s way, but Julie dived and saved it. Back and forth, faster and rougher, too intense for conversation. It was after another spectacular save by Julie that Greg saw his window: Julie struggling back up—Eric all by himself, bobbing. Greg leapt up, fist cocked to meet the ball and send it crashing right in Eric Grant’s smug face. But at that instant, the smug face vanished. Eel-like, Eric darted under the net. With both hands, he reached up out of the water—stretched for one endless moment—
And then, laying hold of Greg’s Ocean Pacific swim trunks, Eric Grant gave one lightning-quick, one— almighty — yank .
Chapter 7
To that point in time, I could be forgiven for thinking the first penis I would ever see would be my husband’s on our wedding night. No brothers or male playmates shared my toddler years; Mom’s boyfriends at least wore underwear in my presence; and, by the time I came to the Beresfords, Tom and Jonathan were well past the age of parading around naked after a bath.
So Greg Perkins’ equipment was a real eye-opener.
It only lasted a split-second. There Greg was, airborne, poised to strike. Up zipped Eric Grant. Down came the trunks. Down came Greg Perkins. But not before everyone except maybe Tom got the full presentation.
Rachel and Julie screamed. Caroline collapsed, hugging her sides. Eric dove back under water to streak away. It required the combined efforts of Tom and Jonathan to restrain Greg after he’d managed to pull his shorts back up, crouching low, meanwhile, his face crimson. “That jerk! That asshole! I’ll kill him!”
Getting a hold of herself, Caroline shot her brother a warning look and came to lay a hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Greg—Greg—calm down. It was a dumb joke. Stupid and childish, but not a big deal. If you could see how often the guys in Eric’s fraternity pull pranks like that on each other just to make everyone else laugh—”
“It’s not funny!” Greg choked. His voice sounded shaky.
“You’ll see,” said Caroline. “When you’re at Cal—isn’t that where you’re going?—God, you’ll probably spend 90% of the time with your pants off.”
That stopped him short. “What?”
“What do you mean?” echoed Rachel.
Caroline laughed. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”
Rachel blinked a couple times. “Well, I don’t think you mean fraternity buddies will be pantsing him 90% of the time. So if you mean he’ll be running around naked, having sex constantly, he
Jonathan served. Tom bumped. Greg set. Rachel…bumped it easily back over the net.
“Rachel!” hollered Greg.
“Oh, what? Can’t we just have a decent rally for once, instead of always trying to put it away? This is stupid pool volleyball, not the Olympics!”
Greg’s well-defined chest heaved.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “This is for fun. Let’s have fun.”
“Great,” muttered Tom. But he hit another easy shot back to Jonathan.
“ Barf! ” said Julie, as Rachel traced a heart across Greg’s pecs .
Greg gave his girlfriend a wavery smile.
“ Aww …” said Caroline. “Look, Eric. It’s like Elizabeth and Todd in Sweet Valley High .”
“Only sweeter,” said Eric. He crouched, sprung with a “ kuh-chuh-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-chuh ” and spiked the ball directly in front of the distracted Greg. It smacked the water with a flat sound, spraying Greg full in the face.
“That’s it !” Greg roared over Caroline’s and Julie’s giggles and Tom’s irritated “Wake up, Perkins!” He grabbed the ball and launched it over the net at Jonathan. “Serve it, Beresford! No more Mr. Nice Guy!”
This threat provoked another stifled snort from Caroline, but I think the blood must have been pounding in Greg’s ears because he didn’t seem to hear. Eric did. He caught his sister’s eye and gave the barest wink. A twitch.
Jonathan overhand served, a line drive which Tom barely managed to get under. Greg smashed it Eric’s way, but Julie dived and saved it. Back and forth, faster and rougher, too intense for conversation. It was after another spectacular save by Julie that Greg saw his window: Julie struggling back up—Eric all by himself, bobbing. Greg leapt up, fist cocked to meet the ball and send it crashing right in Eric Grant’s smug face. But at that instant, the smug face vanished. Eel-like, Eric darted under the net. With both hands, he reached up out of the water—stretched for one endless moment—
And then, laying hold of Greg’s Ocean Pacific swim trunks, Eric Grant gave one lightning-quick, one— almighty — yank .
Chapter 7
To that point in time, I could be forgiven for thinking the first penis I would ever see would be my husband’s on our wedding night. No brothers or male playmates shared my toddler years; Mom’s boyfriends at least wore underwear in my presence; and, by the time I came to the Beresfords, Tom and Jonathan were well past the age of parading around naked after a bath.
So Greg Perkins’ equipment was a real eye-opener.
It only lasted a split-second. There Greg was, airborne, poised to strike. Up zipped Eric Grant. Down came the trunks. Down came Greg Perkins. But not before everyone except maybe Tom got the full presentation.
Rachel and Julie screamed. Caroline collapsed, hugging her sides. Eric dove back under water to streak away. It required the combined efforts of Tom and Jonathan to restrain Greg after he’d managed to pull his shorts back up, crouching low, meanwhile, his face crimson. “That jerk! That asshole! I’ll kill him!”
Getting a hold of herself, Caroline shot her brother a warning look and came to lay a hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Greg—Greg—calm down. It was a dumb joke. Stupid and childish, but not a big deal. If you could see how often the guys in Eric’s fraternity pull pranks like that on each other just to make everyone else laugh—”
“It’s not funny!” Greg choked. His voice sounded shaky.
“You’ll see,” said Caroline. “When you’re at Cal—isn’t that where you’re going?—God, you’ll probably spend 90% of the time with your pants off.”
That stopped him short. “What?”
“What do you mean?” echoed Rachel.
Caroline laughed. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”
Rachel blinked a couple times. “Well, I don’t think you mean fraternity buddies will be pantsing him 90% of the time. So if you mean he’ll be running around naked, having sex constantly, he
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