Ton 'a Tits Tess - Cover

Ton 'a Tits Tess

Copyright© 2006 by Tony Stevens

Chapter 8

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 8 - He was a longtime caddie with a fresh college degree and no job prospects. She was a newly minted pro golfer: big, strong, talented and rich. She was going to try to earn her tour card on the women's satellite tour. She needed an RV driver, a caddie and an all-purpose factotum. Maybe they could invade the Futures Tour as a team.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Slow   School  

Female superior was shockingly good, although Tess' massive body straddling me, with those breasts within easy reach of both my hands, was not exactly a formula that encouraged a 60-minute-man performance.

Her strength and athleticism were as evident in bed as they were off the tee on those long par fives. But I soon dropped her breasts and instead grabbed her ass in both hands, trying to be sure I stayed inside her while she fucked me silly.

We never did get to missionary or doggie that morning.

Maybe later.

But Tess was making some interesting noises as she rode my engorged happy stick to her third (and my first) orgasm, ever, in the State of Indiana.

"Oh, Will!" she sighed in that little-girl way she had that so contradicted her size and strength. "That was a good one!"

"For me, too," I said, trying to catch my breath. "Sorry we didn't get to even the first change-of-position."

"It's early yet," she said, giggling. "Maybe we can find the time, later."

"If you want to see your family for the Fourth of July tomorrow, we'd better get on the road with this thing, pretty damned soon."

"Hey, it's not like it was Christmas Eve," she protested. So what, if we don't get home until a little later?"

"OK by me," I said. "It's your schedule, your RV, and your family. My family will be pleased if I manage to show up to see them at all!"


But we decided, eventually, after lots of cuddling, not to try to wear Tess' pussy out altogether on our first time together. We lazed around in bed until 8:30 a.m., and then got our act together and prepared to hit the road.

We drove east for fifty miles or so on Interstate 80/90 before stopping for gas and breakfast. Filling the giant gas tank on that monster vehicle was a demoralizing experience, and it seemed like a significant bite out of Tess' modest tournament winnings. "I have an idea," I told her. "When do you want to go up to Connecticut for your next tournament?"

"It's not for eleven more days, from today," she said. "It starts on the 14th. I'd like to do it like we did here, and arrange to arrive there at least by late on Tuesday and play practice rounds the next two days."

"That would mean leaving North Carolina on July 10, or at least, very early on the llth. It seems like a waste to drive this rig all the way back to Chapel Hill," I told her. "Why don't we park it someplace, midway between here and Connecticut, and then just drive home in your car?"

"What about our frozen food and stuff?"

"Well, we'll have to leave this thing in an RV park, wherever we leave it. We can try to get a cut-rate, if we don't power up anything but the refrigerator."

"Makes sense," Tess said, "but my dirty clothes, alone, are going to overload that little car for the ride home."

We left the RV in a park near Cambridge, Ohio, drove south into West Virginia past Parkersburg, and stopped for the night in a roadside motel called "MOTEL."

The room was a little mildewy, but the bed was clean and its frame held up nicely under the strain of some strenuous missionary and doggy-style sexual congress.

We slept happily in each other's arms through the night.

We had asked for a 7 a.m. wakeup call, but the proprietor evidently forgot, and we woke up, on our own, around 8:30. Well, that was OK. We were, by then, only a few hours from home. We could grab some breakfast burgers and eat in the car, and then try to make tracks for Chapel Hill.

Tess used her cell phone to call ahead and let the folks know that she'd be late, but would still try to arrive in time for the family's afternoon cookout. The cookout was, evidently, a fairly major Fourth of July Henderson Family tradition.

My own family, whose home was 40 miles east of the UNC campus, wasn't big on "family tradition" events. They'd be pleased enough to see me, but, I knew, they'd be unconcerned if I were late. For them, July 5 would do just as well.

"I'd like you to meet my folks," Tess said. "That is, if you're not in too much of a hurry to get home."

"Hey, my home is with you, in the RV," I told her. "While I was in school at Chapel Hill, I've been living in a couple of rented rooms just off campus. My folks aren't concerned about when I show up. Knowing them, they'll be pleased if I show up at all."

"Why don't you just spend the day with us, then?" she said. "I can call back and let Mom and Dad know you'll be staying over."

"It's just a family thing, though -- the cookout -- isn't it?"

"Not just that, no. We always have lots of other people over. That's nothing new."

"So I wouldn't be a fifth wheel?"

"Not at all."

"This isn't like -- being brought home to Mother, is it?"

"What? Oh. No! No, Will. I told you, already, I wasn't looking for a, y'know, a commitment or something. It was going to be just sex."

"That was 'just sex?'"

"Oh don't pretend to be all insulted. You know what I mean! Sure, the sex was off the charts -- way better than I expected. But I'm still saying the same thing to you that I did to start with: We don't want to get all serious, here. Don't forget, I've still got a boyfriend back in Charlottesville, and you probably have..."

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