Spring gave way to the summer.
But some habits were hard to break.
Dylan entered Darla's through the sliding glass doors and tip-toed over to the closet.
He was surprised, however, to see the closet was not vacant.
"Sorry, dude, no room," Buck laughed.
"Aw, dude, we both need help," Dylan responded, urging Buck to move over.
The two stood there in the dark of the closet, realizing they were both equally obsessed with spying on the darling Ms. Kensington.
Each had tried to keep his plans from the other this time, but nevertheless they were back together, standing side by side.
"Shhh, shhh," Dylan urged as the two could hear Darla's voice coming down the hallway towards the family room.
"So that's what I'm doing with the upstairs," she informed her guest.
Her guest was "the slave," the man she and Trish had been using as game equipment a week earlier. The memory of that still dashed across the minds of Dylan and Buck.
Not surprisingly, the slave was completely nude. Dylan and Buck still couldn't help but chuckle seeing his rather large appendage swing and flop with every step.
"You think you can help me?" Darla asked the man, with a slight look of desperation.
"Yeah, I mean if you have the paint and everything, we should be good to go," the man answered.
"Cool, 'cause I need to get that spare room painted by next week. That's my plan, anyway," Darla explained.
Darla and the naked man went on talking for some time, until Darla left the room for a few moments.
She returned, with, of all things, a hula hoop.
"Aw, is she gonna hula hoop? In that sexy aerobics outfit?" Buck pondered.
"Something tells me that's not for her, dude," Dylan lamented.
She held it in front of her, smiling at the man.
"Aw, Goddess Darla, do I have to?" he mumbled.
"It makes me laugh," she replied with a wonderful, naughty grin.
Doing as told, the man put the hoop over his head and around his waist, already eliciting chuckles from Darla.
He started to swivel the hoop around his bulky frame. His moves were choppy at first, then rhythmic and smooth.
"Very good," Darla said, laughing and clapping. "Swing that thing around..."
"What's she referring to - the hula hoop or his dick?" laughed Buck.
Indeed, the man's lengthy penis was helicoptering to an emphatic degree, much to the delight of Darla, who took such pleasure in putting him through these various types of exercises.
"This is almost too much," Dylan laughed, although still watching.
Buck, meanwhile, was past his threshold.
He was already jerking himself off, soon giving in to a fierce orgasm that produced a substantial release.
"Aw, dude," Dylan objected, turning away.
Buck's cumshot landed somewhere in the dark of the closet.
The little bit of light that trickled through the tiny openings of the wooden closet doors was the only way they two could even see each other.
"When she starts bossing him around like that, I just lose it," Buck explained.
**********
The hula hooping, much to the young men's surprise, went on for a good hour or so.
Darla never lost interest.
Suddenly, a loud crumpling could be heard in the closet.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Dylan protested in a quiet but harsh whisper.
"I brought a bag lunch," Buck responded, in a way that suggested he thought his plan made total sense. "Figured if we're gonna be here a while..."
Buck managed to keep the noise from his munching to a minimum. But when he popped open a can of Shasta, he was playing with fire.
Hopping over a fence and then running through Darla's back yard had caused the can of soda to explode when opened, and it drizzled onto the floor, creating quite an audible dripping sound upon hitting the carpet.
"Do you hear that?" Darla immediately questioned, motioning to her slave in order to get him to stop hula hooping.
The slave didn't answer.
Instead of quieting the dripping sound, Buck made things worse by accidentally spilling the can to one side, as it slipped around in his grasp.
"You idiot - sssshhhhh," Dylan urged, but it was too late.
"Did you hear that dripping sound?" Darla persisted, as she and her slave began to wander around the family room, in an effort to figure out where the unexpected noise was coming from. "Darn it, I think it's the air conditioner again."
It was a slow death for Buck and Dylan. Getting caught is one thing. But painfully drawing out the inevitable is another.
As Darla and her slave paced the family room, trying to trace the source of the sound they heard, the two young men knew it was only a matter of time until they were found.
"It's gotta be coming from the closet," Darla reasoned, already heading over to it.
"Aw, fuck, dude," Buck whispered to his buddy.
Buck braced as Darla's probing fingers grasped one of the door handles to the spacious but ill-fated closet.
"The air conditioner duct doesn't run through there, does it?" questioned the slave, for a moment saving Buck and Dylan.
Darla's hand dropped away from the handle.
"No, but...Where else would it be coming from?" she questioned.
Silence, for a moment.
Everyone stood still.
"Maybe it was coming from outside? The sliding door is cracked open," suggested the slave.
This was just torture. Could they possibly be in the clear?
