Opportunities - Cover

Opportunities

Copyright© 2008 by Dual Writer

Chapter 13

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 13 - A freshman scholarship student is trying to define his life direction and goals. While trying to figure out where he is headed, he enjoys opportunities as they happen. This is a relationship story, bordering on a romance with sexy stuff on the way. (There are chapters with a lot of sex and some with only implied sex.)

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Group Sex   Interracial   Black Female   White Male   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   School  

Breakfast was loud and rowdy. It was only Tuesday but felt like Friday, time to party. Reality sunk in, and everyone settled down to eat breakfast before going to classes. I needed to hustle through the day, including lunch, as I needed to be at the baseball field early to warm up in case I was called on to play.

Shouldn’t have bothered. I did pinch hit in bottom of ninth. I got a decent single, but it didn’t help, as no one drove me in. We lost 7 to 2, bummer.

Supper and library were normal, with a little conversation with Misty and Cherry. I said goodnight to all by nine-thirty and was asleep my ten. I was bushed from doing nothing.

Spring flew by. Spring football practice was a physical drain, as the coaches were pushing everyone to stay in “football” shape. The receiver’s coach was all over me, as I had not gained any significant weight since the end of the season. He said he would give the cafeteria a diet for me so I would put on some pounds. He also wanted me to come to the weight room five days a week. This was going to be tough.

I finished the semester with all near perfect grades again and immediately signed up for the long and short summer sessions. I could take nine hours during the longer session and one five-hour course for the short session. This would be like an entire semester accomplished. My Dad sent some money so I could take a train or bus home for the two weeks before summer school started. As I was researching a bus schedule before breakfast my last day of finals, Trish wanted to know what was up. I explained that I wanted to go home for a week before summer session. She looked thoughtful for a few minutes and told me to wait there for a few minutes. She was gone about ten minutes and came back with Delta.

“Want some company?” Trish asked.

“For what?” I asked.

“For when you go home,” Delta said.

“Dad said we can use the car and drive there. That will save the bus fare, plus we can all drive so we can go straight through.” Trish was saying.

“You guys can’t go without me, so we will have three drivers,” Delta exclaimed.

We excitedly ate our breakfast, making plans for the trip. We three agreed to meet for lunch. They each had a final in the early afternoon, so we tentatively planned to leave when they were through. I asked how they were going to handle cleaning out their dorm room because of summer. They just laughed, “Dummy, you’re going to be here for the summer, so we’re going to take classes, too, so we’re just keeping our room.”

At lunch we finalized everything. I checked with the dorm supervisor and told him that I would be gone a week but be back for the summer session. He said I might have to move, as they usually painted over the summer time, but not to worry. If they had to, they would just move my stuff for me. I cleaned up the room so it would be easy to move everything if I had to, then packed my duffel bag.

The girls were ready by three, and we were on the road by three-thirty. We drove till about nine, and then I was instructed to pull into a motor court that had an electric sign flashing vacancy. I signed for one of the tiny cabins, and we found a place to eat nearby. We had supper and then were sound asleep by eleven after enjoying each other. The next day, we drove until we were near Panama City. The girls wanted to detour there for a night, so we drove out to the beach on the inter-coastal island to find a room at a small motel. We played on the beach for a little while, had a Florida seafood dinner, and enjoyed each other until I couldn’t any more.

We arrived at the farm around noon, just in time for lunch. My brothers were ogling the girls in their short shorts and halters. My Dad stared along with them but looked away quickly when he caught the Mom’s raised eyebrow.

My Mom made a fuss over my face scars. My sisters were all teasing that I would be looking like Frankenstein, while my brothers were saying how rugged they made me look. Dad said that with my scars I could pretend to be a rodeo bull rider.

Delta and Trish found out what it was like to put up hay in the humid ninety-degree plus summer heat of Florida. We only did about five hundred bales but it was hard, hot, dirty work. Dad had plenty of hired help, but he always wanted us boys to be in the middle of whatever was going on. I taught the girls to stack the hay on the wagons and to watch out as some of the guys tried to show off by throwing the seventy-five to eighty pound bales at them. By noon the first day the girls were covered with scratches and tiny cuts from the hay. Mom and my sisters got some jeans and long sleeve shirts on them and then they were a lot better off.

The girls and I took a tractor to one of the fields that needed to be turned over. I showed them how the plow worked, and we did most of the field before we came in.

Trish got a kick out of squirting milk at a cat’s mouth. Delta finally figured out how to make the teat squirt the milk into the bucket, but her hands tired very quickly.

On Saturday night I fired up my old car and took the girls to the VFW hall in town that featured a band for dancing. They were amazed to see how anyone tall enough who could reach the bar could get a mixed drink or beer. Beer was a quarter and a mixed drink was thirty-five cents, so you couldn’t afford to drink too much. They had a great time dancing to all the country music. I was the envy of all my old friends who came up to be introduced to my two beauties. After the dance we went to the “Eating Place.” The little restaurant had a name like “Julie’s” or “Pete’s” or something but everyone knew the joint as the “Eating Place.” We had a greasy breakfast and then were home by one in the morning. This is really late for folks who get back up before five to do chores.

Mom wanted to take me into town to get some new clothes for the coming school year. I told her that I had saved everything they had been sending me and could probably buy stuff cheaper in the city. She agreed and gave me an extra two hundred for clothes and necessities, saying that the strawberries, vegetables, lemons and oranges had brought a good price this year. She said they would be shipping about two hundred head of stock soon, so I could expect a little more help this coming year.

The vacation was over, so we headed back early, giving us plenty of time to get back. On the way up through Georgia, there are outlets for everything. We stopped and bought some men’s pants, shirts and socks, ladies blouses, and some sheets and towels for my dorm room. I stocked up on both lightweight and winter clothes. I even found a great heavy coat for a really cheap price, so all I still needed was a couple pair of shoes. I had figured on some new soles and heels for what I had, as they were still in good shape, but thought another pair of loafers would be good.

We spent two nights in motor courts going back to school, catching up on some loving. The girls and I were very happy being together. We were looking forward to getting back to the routine at school.

Summer session was going to be intense. Most classes were all morning, all afternoon, or all evening. My two were going to be morning and afternoon, three hours each. Surprisingly, I was told the homework was not going to be as intense as it could have been. The Profs for these classes were all supposedly experienced and dedicated teaching professionals who enjoyed the students who wanted to learn. My schedule was going to be a little busy, as after supper I would have to go to the weight room for an hour each day. I could take care of my running to and from the sports complex. After the supervised lifting, I could go straight to the library to join the girls studying.

There were still a few days before the session, so we decided to enjoy the country club where their folks were members.

The first day at the club, the girls took me to the golf pro shop to introduce me to the resident golf pro.

Delta bounced up to a forty or so muscular guy and gave him a hug. Trish followed doing the same. Delta said, “Terry, this is a special friend of ours who needs your help.”

“And what kind of help does he need girls?” Terry asked in his deep voice.

“Chuck needs to learn how to play golf. He hasn’t played before, and you are the man to teach him,” Trish said.

“So how much time can you devote to learning Chuck?” Terry asked, smiling at the enthusiasm of the girls.

“All of this week, sir,” I answered thinking that I could learn this easy looking game fairly fast.

Terry burst out laughing, “A week? Chuck there is tour pros taking daily lessons even after playing over twenty years. It might take a little longer than a week.”

I was a little confused as my Dad played, not well, but he seemed to compete with his friends and he only played once or twice a month.

“I’m in school sir so I only have this week between sessions. Could you teach me the basics so I could play some with Delta and Trish’s Fathers?” I asked sincerely.

“Tell you what,” Terry said with a big smile, “Girls, go get your clubs and each of you grab a bucket of balls. Chuck, come with me and let’s see if we can fit you with some of our clubs, and then we’ll go out to the range, and I’ll show you a little bit about golf.”

Twenty minutes later after carrying my new used clubs and the pros huge bag out to the range, Terry was showing me how to hold the driver and how to stand at the tee. He showed me how to go way back with the club, then how to use my body to get more power on the down stroke, and then to follow through with the club so the ball would go straight.

I topped the first ball, and it went about ten yards. After he showed me to present the club face to the ball a couple of times, I tried again. This time the ball took off on a fairly low trajectory and hit the three hundred-yard sign. I wasn’t aiming at it; I just whacked the ball. I hit five more about the same, trying not to overpower the ball but to just hit it square. Terry told me try to make the ball go farther by hitting it harder. I didn’t do all the good stuff I had just been taught and practiced and hit the ball so that it went at a little higher trajectory but curved out to the right almost at a ninety degree angle.

“That was a slice Chuck. You didn’t present yourself to the tee the same as you had been, and you didn’t use your hips with the swing, and you forgot to follow through. You were driving really well for a new guy until you quit using your good swing. Try it again, but think about each of the steps you were doing before.” Terry was very considerate the way he was instructing.

I went through each of the steps I had been using but swung as hard as I could, keeping in mind to follow through with the club. The ball sailed over the three hundred-yard markers bouncing to the four hundred-yard marker but not in as straight a trajectory as the other ones.

“Chuck, that was great. Not many guys will ever hit four hundred yards consistently. You may be another Ben Hogan in the making. Lets try some of these irons, and I’ll show you how they are each different,” Terry said with some enthusiasm.

We went through each club with him telling me how they were different and what they were used for. I was astounded with how much there was to learn and told Terry, “I can’t believe there is so much to this and all you have shown me is just a little. I wonder when my Dad had to time to learn all this?”

“How long do you think your Dad has been playing?” Terry asked.

“Probably twenty-five years, maybe more,” I said.

“There you go. If he had one lesson a year that would be twenty-five to thirty lessons plus he would have learned from the other players he played with. Experience and practice is what any sport requires. Do you play sports?” Terry asked.

Before I could answer Trish came up to us and exclaimed, “He’s on an athletic scholarship and plays football, basketball, and baseball. He even made the varsity football and basketball teams his first year. Did you go to any of the games last year?”

“Actually all the football games and a couple of the basketball games,” Terry answered. “What position did you play?”

“Tight end, but I only started one game. The rest of the time I was used for situational plays,” I said thinking that would be it.

“Are you the kid who started wearing gloves?” Terry asked.

“Yes, but only when it was really cold. I wore them so I could feel my hands,” I said apologetically.

“That was very smart to start that. You were the one who did all that blocking for Adrian Williams. I saw you catch some passes, too. You’re pretty good. What position do you play in basketball?” Terry asked getting excited.

“Guard, not point guard but usually on the right side where a shooting guard plays, but I didn’t start as I was only a freshman,” I answered.

“How about that guard who made all those shots from the corner. He was deadly,” Terry said.

I blushed and Delta put her arm around my shoulders and said, “That’s our Chuck. His percentage from the corner is awesome.”

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