by Saxon Hart

Caution: This contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Reluctant, Blackmail, Heterosexual, Humiliation, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Squirting, Voyeurism, .

Desc: : Just because he's backed into a corner doesn't mean he's defeated.

This time instead of thanking PapaGus for his editing prowess, I also thank him for the plot for this one. When he was editing "Ginger Snaps" he asked me e-mailed me this idea. I had an outline done and planned a shorter story than what I ultimately produced. During the time I was writing this, I also wrote a story for the Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge, or FAWC, as it has come to be known, and I had two other pieces to write for another project.

So Gus, here is your idea brought to life. Thank you my friend, Saxon Hart

"Are you getting out of here on time?"

I looked up to see my boss Barry Masters looking into my office. He wore the same cheesy grin he always wore on the nights that he would be coming to my house for dinner. He enjoyed rubbing it in that he was going to fuck my wife.

I guess I should start at the beginning. My name is Bill Jaczwenski, pronounced Jacks-win-ski. Most people know me as Billy Jack, or just Jacko. I am a 35 year old account executive for a small time piss ant advertising agency in Houston Texas.

Now being an account executive in one of the large New York, or Los Angeles agencies would mean a lot of power and responsibility, not to mention money and respect. At BM and Sons it just means that I handle everything while Barry sits on his fat ass and reads those horrid bodice ripper novels. As if it isn't bad enough that he reads these books meant for lonely and bored housewives, he has to masturbate after he reads the love scenes.

So here's this douche bag sticking his head in my office asking if I am getting out of here on time, when he knows damn good and well that I will be. Since he hired Amy, an intern with an awesome set of tits, and an ass to match, leaving the office on time has been no problem at all. But since tonight is "the night" I told him I had a few things to finish up and that I would be out in half an hour.

"Fine. I'll go eat at The Royal Fork, but I expect you and Lynn to be ready when I get there. And Jacko, I do mean "ready."

"Ready" meant Lynne was to be naked and I was to be wearing my chastity device. I know most males wouldn't consider me to be a "real man" but I do what I have to do to survive.

I met my wife Lynne ten years ago at a Christmas party given by a local bank. They were Barry's largest client and their dedication to us is what mainly kept the agency afloat. Since I was the one who mainly handled their account I was invited to the party as well. Lynne was a teller in their drive up only branch.

I spent the evening making small talk with some of the personnel that I knew from my dealings with them. I was talking to the manager of the loan department about a planned golf outing they had planned for shortly after Christmas. It seemed that his usual partner was going through a rough divorce and had in fact been assaulted with his own clubs. Since Barry closed our office from Christmas Eve until New Year's Day, I agreed to play.

As I was talking golf with the group who were attending the golf outing, I began to notice a few women were gravitating towards our little gathering. We were discussing our handicaps when a well-developed blonde spoke up. "Hey Bob. Why haven't any of the tellers been asked to this outing?"

She was wearing the proverbial little black dress. Her bosom was truly testing the limits of its bodice and my eyes were locked on like a hawk on a field mouse. I almost didn't realize she was talking directly to me when she asked, "So what's your handicap?"

Now I am no neurosurgeon. Nor am I any kind of expert on the functions of the human brain. So I cannot explain why the only word to fly out of my mouth in response to her golf question was "Great tits."

Guffaws of laughter came from everywhere. I could feel my face turning red. "That's fuckin funny," said someone. "Damn why can't I come up with original answers like that?" asked someone else. The girl in the black cocktail dress and "fuck me" pumps gave a chuckle and then said, "Well I guess you will be in the traps all day."

Luckily I had the presence of mind to play it off as a joke. "I seriously doubt I'll spend all day in the traps. Not many scratch golfers do."

"Wow! Are you considered a scratch?" asked Bob.

"No, but it sounded good." This brought another round of laughter. I didn't bother telling them that I had been close to going to Q school before I got hired by Barry.

The conversation turned back to golf and I felt relieved that I hadn't made a complete ass out of myself. Barry might not have liked it much if I had. Soon the group went separate directions and I found myself back at the bar.

"Care to buy my tits a drink?"

I turned to find myself looking into the ice blue eyes of the little black dress' owner. "No, but I will buy their owner one as an apology for my Freudian slip."

She laughed and we talked the rest of the night away. When the party was over she kissed me good night and headed for her car. "I'll see you at the golf course sir. Just wait until you see what I wear."

I swallowed hard as I imagined her in some tight shorts, or a miniskirt bending over to pick her ball out of the cup. "If her ass was anything like her tits, the golf outing might be better than a porno." I thought to myself as I waved good bye.

I figured that Barry and his wife Joan were off fucking whom ever. The only reason they ever went to these things was to find new fuck buddies. I wondered if they ever fucked each other, and I had my doubts that Barry was truly the father of all of his sons that no one has ever met.

During the first month that I worked for Barry, Joan propositioned me four different times. In the end my morals and the fear that Barry would fire me won out and I never took Joan up on her offers. Truth be known I was probably also saved from a few social diseases.

Wednesday morning I went to the golf club and found the group from the bank. The day was damp and chilly so I felt sure that everyone would be in long pants rather than shorts. Having been born and raised in Wyoming, I wore shorts 90% of the year. Unless I was at work of course

Half of the people from the party didn't show up. They were trying to figure out how to divide up 13 people when I walked up.

"Billy! Damn glad you came," Bob said as he greeted me. "We thought we would have five or six foursomes, but as you can see, we are well short of that number. Do you mind playing in a twosome?"

I told him that I didn't mind playing in a twosome. I was profoundly disappointed that Lynn wasn't among the attendees. I was told that I would be in a twosome with Jerry Montez, a commercial loan officer, but when a member of the first foursome wasn't there at their scheduled tee time, Bob asked Jerry to go join them.

My new partner still wasn't there as the second group was about to take the tee box. Just as Bob was trying to figure out what to do he exclaimed "Ok, here's your partner Billy. Try to stay out of the traps." As the group began laughing I turned to see my partner approaching.

"Sorry. I got hung up trying to buy tees." I turned and found myself face to face with Lynn. She was wearing a purple fleece pullover and heavy knit yoga pants. While the pull over hid any hint of cleavage, the pants definitely displayed her curves. "Where is everyone?" she asked.

"First group is probably on the green by now," said Bob. "Do you mind playing in a twosome with Billy here?"

She gave me a wink. "Not as long as he brought his money."

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. We bet on everything. Usually during a foursome we bet drinks, or stunts, or whatever anyone is willing to bet. High stroke counts cost a person drinks at the turn." explained Bob.

"I hope you brought enough money Billy," she said. I didn't say anything.

Bob was laughing as he teed up on the white box. He hit what looked like a respectable drive and then the foursome was on their way down the fairway. Lynn and I made our way onto the tee box.

"Ladies first," I said as she bent over to place her tee. I was admiring the shape of ass as she bent over to make her set up.

"Stop staring at my ass pervert!" Damn! Did she have eyes in the crack of her ass?

"I wasn't even looking your way. I was watching your colleague hacking away in the rough over there." She stood up and looked down the fairway, where a guy was swinging wildly in the long grass about a hundred yards away.

"Oh," she said. 'I didn't mean that you're a perv by the way. I just figured that you were..."

"Yeah you figured I was staring at your delectable ass, I know."

She gasped, "Oh! So you were. I'm going to have to keep an eye on you buster. Just so fair's fair, I get to stare at you while you tee up."

"Ok," I chuckled. "I think you can go ahead and drive now, they are on the green."

She swung and drove the ball about 170 yards and turned to me with a smirk. "Top that Mr. Nice Tits."

I stepped up to the black tee box and set my ball and tee. "And if I top that, what do I get?" I asked.

"If you outdrive me from there, I'll play the back nine in my tight white shorts and tank top," she said wiggling her ass. I felt my cock beginning to rise and had to fight it. I had never driven with a boner so I didn't know how it would affect my swing.

.... There is more of this story ...

The source of this story is Storiesonline

For the rest of this story you need to be logged in: Log In or Register for a Free account