Donna ran to the front door when she heard the bell ring. With a tingle of anticipation in her pussy, she opened the door. John, her boyfriend, stood there with a seductive smile on his handsome countenance, "Hi there," he said. His eyes devoured her figure that was exposed by shorts and a braless, tight tee.
Donna smiled back. "Mom and Dad went to the mall. It's their night to shop and eat out," she told him eagerly.
"Way to go, good old mom and dad," said John.
He stepped inside and pushed the door closed. He wrapped his arms around Donna's slim waist and kissed her hard. She kissed back until she had to pull away to catch her breath. Donna could feel his hard-on growing against her hip. As John went on to kiss her cheek and then her ear, Donna giggled, "You can't be all that horny. How many times did we do it last night, three?"
John grabbed Donna's hand and pulled her toward her bedroom. "I did it three times. God only knows how many times you came. And I bet you're hot for some more."
Donna scuffed her feet and resisted his pull. "Don't be in such a hurry. Don't you want to eat something, or watch TV first?" Watching TV was their code for making out and heavy petting. Donna liked to cuddle first.
John acted as if didn't hear or just didn't care. He pulled insistently on Donna's arm until they were in her bedroom. "Come on Donna, you know you want it just as bad as I do." John threw her on the bed and then piled on beside her.
"Damn John, we've got time, don't go so fast." Donna was about to get pissed. She didn't like it fast and rough. She would have to admit though, that she liked sex. In fact she liked it a lot. John had been her first and only lover, but even before him she'd been no stranger to orgasms. Unlike most girls, she'd found that erotic sensation easy to come by from an early age. And she'd discovered that sex with John multiplied those sensations ten fold.
They had been sophomores in high school for their first sexual encounter, and now they were just days away from graduation. For most of her life Donna had been the tall, self conscious, awkward girl in class. The one who was always seen stooped over when walking in the school halls, trying to blend in with her friends - girl friends that is. The boys didn't want to have anything to do with a female who towered over them. Then, the summer after her freshman year, Donna blossomed. Her five foot ten stick figure suddenly became curvaceous — her B-cups grew to size D. A summer of exercise in the sun gave her body a tan and added blonde highlights to her light brown hair, not to mention a flat stomach and shapely legs. Donna should have noticed the heads of numerous horny teen males turning her way at the beginning of the next school year. If she had waited a while, Donna would have found the boys buzzing around her like the proverbial bees around a beautiful flower, but John was the first one to approach her, and he blocked the other guys from her consciousness.
John was a member of the cool, in crowd. He was good looking, with thick, dark hair and, best of all, taller than Donna. The inexperienced girl was overwhelmed when John turned his sexy smile her way. It came to be that they had more in common than only a physical attraction, but the non-physical mattered a lot more to Donna than to John.
John rolled over and kissed her, jamming his tongue in her mouth. His hand went under her tee shirt and cupped one of Donna's generous breasts, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger. For a few seconds Donna resisted his rough groping, but then her body betrayed her. The heavy, warm, wet feeling began to gather between her legs, and she started to respond. She began to suck on John's tongue and tug at his shirt. Her mind told her not to encourage his behavior, but her body was beginning to anticipate another thrilling orgasm.
"Yeah, that's my girl," whispered John in her ear.
Donna could only moan in response. John jumped up. He had his clothes off in seconds. Retrieving a condom from his pants, he rolled the latex over his hard cock with practiced ease. She loved his cock; it was thick and straight and longer than average. Donna watched its head bob and weave in the air as he reached down and tugged off her shorts. Her bikini panties followed shortly.
John crawled back on the bed, pushing her legs apart. Grabbing his cock, he bent it down and pushed open Donna's pussy lips. In one shove he buried his cock as far he could into her warm, clinging wetness.
"Ow damn, John," she complained. She may have been aroused, but she wasn't ready for this indelicate treatment. She started to ask John just what in the hell was going on, but he covered her mouth with his, stuck his tongue nearly into her throat, and began to drive his hips back and forth.
For two minutes John pounded away, making the sturdy bed squeak. Despite her initial pain, Donna was beginning to feel the first budding sensations of her orgasm.
"That's it, baby," she said with passion. Her clit was getting its due just right. She was on the edge of a hot cum, when John suddenly shuddered and groaned in her arms. His back arched, his eyes rolled upwards and Donna knew that he was filling his condom with hot cream. Well, maybe not filling it, she thought. After cumming three times the night before, he must be pretty well drained. Suddenly, without so much as a kiss on her cheek, he was off the bed and into the bathroom.
Donna sighed. At least he'd gotten that initial surge of horniness out of his system. She could have her fun on the second go around — and even the third if they had time. John's sexual technique could best be described as enthusiastic and full of stamina.
But when he came back into Donna's bedroom, John didn't jump back on the bed or reach for another condom, he began to get dressed. "Listen babe, we have to talk," he said seriously.
Donna's face turned red, and not from sexual passion, "You're damn right we do. If you think you can rush in here for a quickie just to get your rocks off then..."
"Donna," he interrupted, "I'm not going to Ellington."
"What?" Donna's anger turned to amazement. For over a year they had planned on matriculating into Ellington College together. It was a small, academically exclusive and very expensive school. They both had satisfactory grades and money was no problem, at least for Donna. Her parents were well off. But John was going to have to depend on winning a golf scholarship to pay his tuition. Ellington had an outstanding golf team, whose quality was all out of proportion to the size of the school. They had their pick of golfers, but John was a hell of a player, and Donna felt that he could win a scholarship.
"The coach at State offered me a partial scholarship and I'm going to take it. I hear that the coach at Ellington had a heart attack and they wouldn't be deciding on scholarships until late this summer. If I wait until then, I might be left with my dick hanging out," he pulled up the zipper on his pants, "so to speak," he finished. John reached for his socks and began to put them on.
Donna stood up, hands on hips, not the least concerned with her state of undress. "But that'll put us hundreds of miles apart. What about our plans?"
"Look babe, we've had a good run, but this'll mean long separations... and... and I think we ought to call it quits." John finished with his socks and reached for his cross trainers, but before his could touch the shoes Donna reached down and scooped them up.
"Call it quits, huh?" Her voice was low and quiet and menacing. In fact, for the first time in her life, Donna knew what "seeing red" meant. It was as if a sanguine mist was filling the room. Her face was so red and flushed she could feel her pulse in her cheeks.
"You come in here, practically rape me, and then announce a break up?" she said, barely above a whisper. "You're not even willing to put out even the slightest effort for our future?"
John had completely misread her tone of voice just like he'd misread her feelings for him. "Put out? Yeah, for two years I put out plenty of stuff for you, babe." John patted his crotch with a smug smile. "It was great, and we both had our fun. Now, can I have my shoes?"
Donna broke. "Shoes!" she screeched. "You son of a bitch! I'll give you fuckin' shoes" Donna was no mean athlete; she gave John one of his shoes just as hard as she could give it. She swung the shoe at his head with all the force she could muster with her legs, hips and shoulders. The shoe whipped off an upraised hand that John had barely managed to get in harm's way, and then the shoe ricocheted into his forehead hard enough to leave tread marks.
Whacked into the reality of what he had brought out in his now very former lover, John leapt off the bed, one hand over the growing welt on his head.
"Damn, Donna..." He looked up to see the look in her eyes through the tangle of wild hair that lay over her face. He began to back away through the bedroom door. Donna stalked him through the house like a panther warning an intruder out of her territory. When John got to the front door he said, "OK, I guess you can keep the shoes."
As John turned to open the door, Donna launched one of the shoes at the back of his head. John yelped in pain as it connected. He turned to retrieve his shoe. When he bent over, he made the mistake of taking his eye off his attacker and the other shoe bounced off his head.
John managed to grab his other cross trainer, but as he backed out of the house, fumbling with his shoes, Donna screamed and charged the door. She slammed it shut and felt a satisfying thunk as the door hit John in the ass. She brushed the hair out of her face, folded her arms under her breasts, sighed and walked away from the door. Donna managed to make it back to her bedroom just before the tears came. She fell face down on the bed and gave in to her emotions.
One morning three weeks later, Donna dragged herself into the kitchen for breakfast. At school and out in public Donna had put on a brave front. She'd gone through her high school graduation all smiles and acting as if John's leave-taking hadn't affected her at all. But at home she spent her time in bed or curled up on the couch watching old movies on TV. This morning she was eating cold cereal while vacantly starring at the cereal box and wondering how you made those kernels of corn into flakes anyway, when her mother came in.
"Morning dear," said her mom, pouring coffee.
"Not really," Donna sighed.
Her mother sat down at the table. "Donna, I haven't seen you this depressed since... well, I don't think I've ever seen you this depressed. So, I called Randy last night. He said that you were welcome to come any time and stay as long as you want. He'll even get you a job at the club."
For several long moments, Donna stared at her mother, her eyes barely peering over the top of the cereal box. Randy was a distant cousin, whom Donna hadn't seen in years. She vaguely remembered him as being a tall, good-looking man with dark hair and eyes. Recently he had become the general manager of Ellington Country Club, a private golf and tennis club. It was no coincidence that the college she was going to attend and the club had the same name. The members of the board of directors of the club were all Ellington College alumni, and their course was the home for the college golf team.
Donna had been planning to spend a week of her summer vacation with Randy and his wife Michelle. She was going to visit the college in order familiarize herself with the campus and surrounding area.
Donna stood, walked slowly to the sink, rinsed her cereal bowl, put it in the dishwasher and then went over to her mother. "Mom, you know how I really resent it when you interfere with my private life?" Her mother nodded. "Well, this isn't one of those times." Donna smiled and bent over to hug her mother. "I think it's a great idea. I'll get away from here before I start to get moldy."
Two days later Donna loaded her little two-seat Miata, left her mother waving bye, and headed across the state for Ellington. After a few hours of driving, Donna even felt as if she were leaving her feelings for John behind. He was a jerk. Albeit a good looking jerk who could electrify her pussy. Donna shook her head violently. She couldn't think that way. She was young and good looking. She had to believe that all she had to do was make herself available and she could have her pick of men for a satisfying, mature relationship. Or her pick of nice warm, hard cocks if it came to that.
Following the directions she'd printed from an Internet site, Donna pulled off the interstate, followed a four lane road into the town of Ellington and then, a couple of miles later, turned onto Country Club drive. She found the proper driveway and turned in. "Holy shit!" was all Donna could say when she saw her cousin Randy's home. The drive swung in front of an enormous house. Donna figured that her own home would easily be lost behind one of the wings of this mansion.
Donna braked her car to a stop under a portico. As she got out of the car the front door opened and a handsome couple in casual dress emerged. Randy looked as she remembered him: thin, good looking, dark hair with just a bit of gray. Michelle was a few inches shorter than Donna. She was a pretty brunette with a slim figure.
Everyone said their hellos and traded hugs. Randy grabbed Donna's bags and led her to her room. They passed through a foyer, across a couple of elaborately decorated rooms and down a long hallway. "I can't get over your house," said Donna. "It's lovely, and just so... so big."
"So you like our little hovel?" kidded Randy.
"It's not ours," said Michelle. "It was the original Ellington home - the Ellington that built the college and country club, that is. His will stipulates that it has to remain as is and in possession of the club in perpetuity. So the country club board rents it out or makes someone like us caretakers."
Randy and Michelle made an entire suite available to Donna. One she was delighted to retire to after a quiet dinner. It had been a long day of driving. She'd no sooner lain down on the king size bed than she fell, exhausted, into a deep sleep. She couldn't believe it was already the next morning when the alarm woke her in time to go to work with Randy.
After breakfast, it turned out that getting to work consisted of a ride in a golf cart. The Ellington house was right on the golf course and Randy often commuted to work using his private cart. As they rolled down one of the fairways Randy said, "I'll show you around the grounds today." He stuck a pointing finger right under Donna's nose and said, "One golf course," as if it were something for her to check off a list. Donna giggled.
"Oh good, you can laugh," Randy smiled at her. "Last night, I was beginning to wonder."
"I'm sorry," said Donna. "I was just worn out after all that driving yesterday."
"Not to mention your emotional stress."
"Oh God," said Donna. "My mother didn't bother you with my troubles, did she?"
"She did mention someone named John. I think her description was: 'He's an insensitive great galloping asshole'."
Donna giggled again, "Yeah, it's too bad she didn't tell me that when John and I first met. Not that I would have listened."
"Don't worry," Randy gave her knee a reassuring squeeze, "we'll keep you too busy to dwell on past boyfriends."
"Great!" said Donna, surprised that she felt a warm tingle in her leg where Randy's hand had touched.
That day passed in pretty much a blur of faces and names and places. She and Randy weren't back home until nearly seven and by nine o'clock that night Donna couldn't keep her eyes open. She fell asleep, fully clothed, on the bed while watching "90210" and woke up during Dave's top ten list. Donna decided that she better officially go to bed, so she changed into her favorite sleep shirt. It was a short, threadbare thing that her mother had given her years ago. She was about to crawl back into bed when she realized that she needed something to drink. She could get water in her bathroom, but she wanted something with flavor. Maybe, she thought, there would be orange juice or something in the kitchen.
Donna made her way into the kitchen without turning on any overhead lights. There were night-lights at intervals through the house. The kitchen was so big she had to actually hunt for the refrigerator amongst an expanse of stainless steel. But when she did find it, there was a carton of orange juice waiting. Deciding that if no one was looking, then neatness didn't count, she drank two gulps from the carton and put it back.
Donna left the kitchen and tried to walk through the shadows back to her room. Only she made a wrong turn and got lost. She tried to back track, and she thought she had found the hallway to her room when she saw a crack of light under a door and heard a TV. She almost opened the door, but stopped when she realized that the voices she'd heard were from Randy and Michelle, and not her television. Donna stood quietly in the hall and listened.
"My God Randy, what are you doing?" Michelle's voice came from their bedroom.
"What's the matter? Never seen a guy jack off before?"
There were a few seconds of silence then Michelle said, "Not tonight Randy, please."
"It's been a while, honey."
"I know Randy, please, it's just a phase."
Donna heard the creak of bedsprings. "I guess I'll just have to sublimate my desire for sex into food. Want a snack?"
"No... no thank you."
Donna realized that Randy must be headed for the kitchen. She ran on tiptoe until she could step into the shadows. She waited and watched as Randy passed. He was wearing bikini underwear and nothing else. Donna smiled in appreciation of his firm buttocks and the healthy bulge in the front of his shorts. Obviously, he hadn't yet completely lost his erection. Donna thought about following those cute buns.
Cut it out, she told herself. After all the steady sex that John had given her in the past couple of years, she was suddenly horny after a month's layoff. But it would be stupid to try anything with her cousin. Not to mention his age and the fact that his wife was in the same house. It would be better if she skirted the kitchen and went back to her bedroom.
She was quietly making her way through the formal dining room next to the kitchen when she solidly whacked her shin into a chair, sending it screeching across the floor. Shit, thought Donna. There's no use pretending I'm not here. I'll just cover myself by going into the kitchen and if Randy's there I'll grab something to drink, and then leave as soon as possible.
Randy walked into the kitchen. He wasn't really hungry. What he was, was horny. He didn't know what was up with Michelle, but they hadn't fucked in a month. She always had a plausible excuse, and his pride kept him from considering that there might be another man. Randy leaned against a counter and ran his palm over his bulge. He was hard and it seemed likely that he was going to stay that way. He might as well jerk off. That was the only sexual release he was likely to get tonight.
Randy pulled his bikini briefs down a bit and his cock swung free. He began to slide his hand along the shaft and over the sensitive head. He hadn't done this in a while, but it wasn't like he'd forgotten how. Hmmm, he thought, that Donna sure was cute. Not that he would actually try anything, but he could fantasize about her pretty face and hair and those big, but pert tits, couldn't he?
Screech. There was a noise from the dining room. "Damn," whispered Randy, Donna must be running around the house, and here he stood, nearly naked, with an erection. Randy stuffed his dick back into his shorts and headed for the door. It wouldn't do to have Donna see him like this. He could just imagine Michelle and Donna whispering to each other, having a good laugh at his expense. He'd rather skip that blow to his male ego, thank you very much.
Naturally, he and Donna crashed together in the doorway. Randy's cock-head popped above the waistband of his shorts and now poked into Donna's pelvis and slid up to her belly button. They both jumped back. "Oh! You scared me," they said in unison.
Randy turned away and tried to stuff his erection back in his shorts. He crossed his hands in front of his crotch and leaned, as nonchalantly as he could manage, against the kitchen counter. Clearing his throat nervously, he asked, "Donna, what are you doing up?"
As she slid past Randy, trying to maintain eye contact and not glance down, Donna said, "I just wanted something to drink." Donna took a glass and went to the refrigerator. She opened the door and stood there as she poured the juice. "Want some?" she asked.
Randy shook his head, but his body was screaming 'Yes! Give me some of that luscious body'. The light from the refrigerator turned her thin sleep shirt translucent, and gave Randy a perfect view of the outline of her firm, high tits, long legs and cute ass.
Donna's hands trembled as she drank the juice. Talk about your awkward situations. Why didn't Randy leave? Was he just going to stand there with his hard-on and watch her? Was he afraid to move, or was he getting turned on?
What the heck, thought Donna. She put her glass in the sink and then looked at Randy. She gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile and walked up to him. He didn't protest as Donna put her hands on his and drew them away from his crotch. He gulped as she pulled out the waistband of his shorts and grasped his cock.
Donna knew that at this point John, her jerk-faced former boyfriend would have put his hand on her head and pushed her down saying, "Suck it baby, suck it."
But Randy just leaned back, thrusting his now leaking cock into her hand. Donna had given John more than a few hand-jobs, and she was good at it even if she did say so herself. She lubricated the palms of her hands with the generous stream of pre-cum that was oozing from his cock-slit. She wondered just how long he'd been saving this stuff.
Donna stroked him gently, teasing him by merely grazing the sensitive underside of his cock-head. She was impressed. John had been well endowed, but Randy was just as big.
"Oh, Donna, you shouldn't," Randy said in a husky voice. His lips may have said 'no, ' but his dick was saying 'yes;' it drooled even more pre-cum onto her fingers.
Randy's dick jerked and twitched in her fingers. She used both hand, letting him fuck her between her palms. It wasn't long before she saw the signs of a dick that was about to erupt. Even in the dim light of the kitchen she could see his cock-head swell and darken. She grasped his shaft singlehanded and gave it several strong strokes.
"Uhhhhh..." Randy whispered as his cock gushed hot cum on her hand and arm. Damn, how long has it been for him, wondered Donna. He had shot at least six full streams of hot, thick cum.
Without a word Randy and Donna took some paper towels and cleaned up the evidence of their little tryst. When he was through, Randy took Donna by the hand and said, "That was incredible, honey. It's nice to know that I'm still attractive to beautiful young women." He gave her a brief smile and then turned serious, "But we can't do anything like this again, ever. Understand?"
Donna nodded her head, kissed him lightly on the cheek and returned to her room. For a second she considered masturbating, but then she realized that she wasn't so much excited as she had a warm fuzzy feeling. For the first time since John had left her, Donna felt really good about her sexuality.
Donna spent the next few days looking around Ellington College and the surrounding area. She even spent a day with Michelle at her real-estate sales. But she found the woman to be downright condescending, and not much fun to be around. Eventually, Donna grew tired of entertaining herself. She wasn't one to sit around, so she asked Randy about the job he'd offered earlier. In turn, he introduced her to the club's dining room supervisor, who in turn put her under the wing of a lady named Sally.
Donna's job was to be a server in the club's dining room in the evening. It turned out there was much more to the job than she had assumed. She followed Sally around like a puppy for a several nights. The woman kept up a running chatter about the people they worked with, her family and all the little duties and tricks-of-the-trade that a server needed. After a while, the seeming disorder and chaos of the kitchen and server's station began to make sense and Donna became one of the crew.
Donna enjoyed her routine. She got to sleep until the late morning, and then she had until mid-afternoon for herself. She went to work at four and she was usually off by ten. Sometimes she had a girl's night out with some of her coworkers. They would sneak her into an evening spot and the buy her drinks. Donna would giggle and laugh her way into the early morning hours with her gal pals. When she told them about John, her friends regaled her with stories about loves lost and found. She took solace from the idea that her story was hardly unique.
Early one afternoon, Donna took her paycheck and tips and decided to buy souvenirs from the Ellington Country Club for her parents. That meant a trip to the club's pro shop. It carried plenty of men and ladies' clothing with the club's logo. Shopping there meant she had to deal with the club's head golf pro, Jerry Mosel, a man who was known to the female wait staff as 'a legend in his own mind'. He would never say or do anything that could be construed as sexual harassment, but Jerry managed to hit on nearly every female employee with whom he came in contact.
Donna had never used the word 'smarmy' in her whole life, but it certainly came to mind when she saw Jerry. He was a slightly overweight man, in his late thirties, standing five and half feet tall. He had thinning, dirty blonde hair, and a mustache that managed to only discolor his upper lip rather than define it.
Donna was browsing through some shirts when Jerry came over. He got close enough to invade her personal space and spoke in ingratiating tones, "Hello Donna, can I help you with anything?"
She moved as gracefully as she could to put the clothes rack between them. "Oh don't bother with me. I'm just looking for something for my parents."
As Donna replaced a shirt at which she'd been looking, Jerry reached across the rack to pat her arm with a clammy hand and said, "OK honey, if you want me... for anything, let me know."
Donna smiled, "I'm sure I'd be interested in something a lot younger." Jerry gave her a funny look. "In style I mean," she said, holding up a shirt.
At that moment Randy came in the shop. Jerry excused himself to speak to his boss. The two men discussed business for several minutes until Donna's browsing brought her near.
Randy called her over, "Doing some shopping?" he asked.
"Yeah, there's not much to do, except spend my hard earned money."
"You know, Donna, I've been thinking, said Randy. "The only time you come to the club is to work. Why don't you take advantage of your stay and take some golf lessons?"
"Lessons?" Donna stuttered. Randy hadn't been around her much since that night in the kitchen. This felt like some sort of impulse on his part to make up for avoiding her.
"That's a great idea," chimed in Jerry. He made it sound as if Randy had come up with the idea of the decade.
"I don't know," said Donna, "I don't really care much about golf."
"Hey George," Jerry called across the shop. When a young man popped out of a storeroom door, Jerry motioned him over.
Donna's eyes widened as George neared. She'd never seen this guy around the club before. He was really cute. He was at least six feet tall with thick blonde hair and brown eyes. When he walked up, George smiled at Donna, showing two deep dimples in his cheeks.
"Listen George." Jerry took the opportunity to put an arm around Donna's shoulders. It was all she could do not to shudder. "I'd like for you to teach Donna how to play golf. Let's say two or three lessons a week. If you know the golf swing well enough to teach it to someone else, that'll go a long way to winning that scholarship."
George looked surprised, but he recovered quickly and said, "That's great." He turned to Donna, "When would you like to get started?"
Jerry put his free arm around George. "There's no time like the present. Why don't you start with chipping and putting?" He pushed to two young people toward the pro shop door.
Once they were out the door, George turned to Donna, "Well, I guess we're starting today. If that's okay with you?"
Donna shrugged, "Fine with me." She could shop later and besides, this guy was seriously cute. A few minutes later they were on the practice putting green, putters in hand. George gave her instructions on how to hold the putter, how to stand and how to stroke the ball smoothly. Donna putted several balls; most of them stopped near the hole.
"Not bad," said George. Sure you haven't played before?"
Donna shrugged, "Everybody plays miniature golf." She looked up at the raspy sound of an air-cooled engine. It was Jerry the pro rolling down the club's drive in a bright orange Porche. "Where's he going?" Donna asked.
"Who knows?" shrugged George. "I wish I had his job. He'll take a two hour lunch and then play golf with some of his buddies all afternoon." George gazed at the receding car as it left the course.
"Look," said Donna, "He's gone and I can tell you'd rather be playing or something. You don't have to give me lessons."
George jerked his gaze back to Donna. "Oh yes I do. He knows that I can't afford to go to Ellington unless I get that golf scholarship. He also knows that if I get it, then I won't be able to work here anymore. So he ties every little piece of crap job to that scholarship." He saw Donna's face cloud up. "Uh... not that teaching you is crap... I just meant..." He gave her his best, fully dimpled, apologetic smile.
"Don't worry, I know what you're trying to say," said Donna. It was impossible for her to work up any real anger at that cute face. "Why does he have such a say in your scholarship?"
"Because the club endows the money, and the board of directors has the last say in who gets what. And the board thinks Jerry's opinion is worth something because he plays golf with them, and because he has a brown nose from keeping it stuck up their butts. And that's why I have to give you lessons, please. I can't give Jerry an excuse to bad mouth me to the board."
Donna smiled. She didn't care about taking lessons, but she wouldn't mind spending some time with him. Besides, it would help him out. "Well, I guess I'm taking lessons then," she said.
A few days later they were together again. After chipping balls onto the putting green for a few minutes the two young people got sodas and spent their remaining time talking. It seemed to her that her lesson was looking more like a date.
"Are you going to make golf your career?" she asked.
George sipped his soda and said, "I'd like to play golf at Ellington for four years and then try for the PGA Tour."
"You don't have to go to Ellington to get on the tour do you?"
"No, of course not, but Ellington has lots of rich alumni who like to back pros, and you do have to have a small fortune in order to travel and practice and go to the qualifying school," he said.
"And if you don't make it on the tour?" asked Donna.
"Hey, I'm perfectly serious about college. I'll have a teaching degree when I get out. If I can't make it on the tour, then I certainly don't want to be a club pro. I might turn out to be like Jerry."
They both laughed at that. Donna realized that she liked this guy. He was smart and had a sense of humor, not to mention that he was tall and good-looking. And unlike her previous boy friend, he didn't seem to feel that everything had to relate to sex. Not, Donna felt, that she would mind if he leaned in that direction. They made an appointment for the next day. Donna was to come by for her lesson before she went to work in the dining room.
But when she arrived the next day, George couldn't get away from the shop. Jerry was no where around and the other worker for the shop had called in sick. Donna hung around the shop for a few minutes, but George was too busy with customers and answering the constantly ringing phone to pay her much attention. They rescheduled the lesson and Donna left. She wanted to run back to her room in order to change into her work clothes. She had planned to change at the club after her lesson, but, given the opportunity, she preferred the privacy of her own room.
Donna pulled her Miata into the huge garage next to Randy and Michelle's house. She walked to the rear of the mansion sized home. There was a door there, not far from her room, where she could enter without walking through the whole house. When Donna rounded the corner of the house she was a bit startled to see Jerry's orange Porche.
Now what was he doing here in the middle of the day, wondered Donna? Randy faithfully worked until five or six each evening and... and... huh oh. Surely not. Surely there was no hanky-panky between Jerry-the-jerk and Michelle.
After entering the door, Donna didn't have to go far to find out. From the sound of voices, it was pretty obvious that there was someone in same wing of the house as her room. Donna eased past the door to her suite until she could peek into another of the guest bedrooms.
Her mouth fell agape at the sight of Michelle. She was dressed as an erotic version of a wild-west dancehall girl. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head and a couple of maroon colored ostrich plumes jutted jauntily from her tresses. There was a choker around her neck. Next was a red, patterned corset. The black filigreed cups of the cinched garment were little more than a shelf for Michelle's creamy bosom. Her up thrust tits wobbled with her movements, and her exposed nipples were full and longer than Donna would have expected. Around her hips was a black garter belt that held up matching fishnet stockings. The belt and its hanging straps served to nicely frame her bald pussy. Next, came her shoes; they were ankle high, red leather boots with hook and eye closures. The boots had black soles and four inch black heels. Completing her outfit were black fishnet gloves that came nearly to her shoulders.
"Come on out, cowboy. Let's see what you're packing," Michelle said.
Donna heard a door open, and Jerry Mosel came into view. Donna had to stifle a gasp. He was wearing a cowboy hat. The thing was so big, it looked as if it might actually hold the fabled ten gallons. He was wearing cowboy boots too. They were black with red embroidery, and Donna swore that the heels were much higher than traditional ones. In between the hat and the boots was nothing but a gun belt sporting two holsters. The guns in the holsters looked very real.
"Howdy, ma'am," said Jerry in a TV cowboy accent.
"I see you're a three gun man. I like that," said Michelle as she gazed below Jerry's waist.
Jerry turned just enough so that Donna could see his erection. He wasn't hugely endowed, but the man had nothing to be ashamed of. His throbbing dick had its own holster of a sort. A thin strap of leather, which was suspended from his gun belt, kept his dick sticking straight ahead.
"They're all loaded for you, baby," Jerry said. He drew one of the guns, twirled it around his finger, and then he cocked and fired the thing.
Donna squeaked, but the deafening bang from the gun kept Jerry and Michelle from hearing anything. Donna assumed Jerry had fired a blank; at least Michelle wasn't searching the ceiling for a hole. In fact, she didn't even seem disturbed; she had a heavy-lidded, aroused look on her face.
Jerry ran the barrel of the gun along the length of the underside of his dick. That caused a drool of pre-cum to ooze from his cock-slit. Jerry caught the clear cream on the barrel of his gun and used the tip of his cock to smear it on the stainless steel metal.
Michelle closed on Jerry until her stiffened nipples were brushing his chest. They kissed, clearly swapping tongues as their lips twisted against one another. "Do you want it hot, baby?" he asked.
"You know I do," Michelle said into the shell of his hear.
Jerry held the gun away from their bodies and... BANG... it went off again. He brought the big revolver between Michelle's legs and rubbed the barrel along her slit.
"Ahhh..." she hissed as she tossed back her head.
"Yesss..." Jerry hissed in turn as he slid the cum slickened, hot metal against her clit.
Jerry withdrew the gun. He gave it a twirl and a flip so that it was upside down with the barrel pointing upward toward Michelle. He flicked the smooth blade sight across her nipples, eliciting another sensuous moan from Michelle. Jerry drew the end of the gun barrel down the front of her corset and then her pelvis and then the barrel of the gun disappeared up Michelle's pussy.
Donna stifled a gasp. She knew enough about guns to know that it would be extremely awkward for Jerry to cock and fire his gun from that position, but the idea that it could happen sent a shiver of fear through her body. It was dangerous play — but on the other hand, it was also exciting.
"Faster," demanded Michelle.
"Yes, ma'am," Jerry said with a wicked smile.
He pumped the gun barrel in and out of her leaking cunt, taking care to angle it on the out stroke so as to grind it across her clit. Michelle had her arms around Jerry's neck, holding herself upright against his erotic assault.
"NOW... let's do it NOW," she cried.
They practically ran to the bed in the center of the room. Michelle got on all fours, her plush ass waving provocatively. Jerry holstered his gun and got on his knees behind her. His dick hadn't flagged one bit; it was still proudly jutting from his crotch. He grabbed his shaft and ran his cock-head up and down Michelle's slickened pussy lips. He worked his cock-head between those swollen lips and pushed in to the hilt.
"Yes, baby," groaned Michelle.
Jerry began to swing his hips and fuck her with a will. His thighs slapped her legs with each thrust. "Do you like that?" he demanded of Michelle.
"Yeah, cowboy!" screamed Michelle. "Ride me you big stud! Fuck me with that big cock of yours."
"Yeah, you like it," snarled Jerry. He slapped her on a butt-cheek. "I'm gonna' ride your sweet ass." He grabbed her hair and made her back arch as he continued to slam into her dripping pussy.
"Harder, fuck me harder," Michelle said in a trembling wail. She was cumming. Donna could see her entire body tremble in erotic release.