Sapphire Cove
Copyright© 2026 by Fanlon
Chapter 15
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 15 - Sapphire Cove is a series of books, be patient, it will be more than worth it in the end! If you enjoyed Sam and his story in The Windy Pines, you'll love Lucas and Leah's stories in this new series. Sapphire Cove tells the story of twins, Lucas and Leah, who have a special relationship, as most twins do. Living in a nudist household, there are no secrets, except the ones the twins keep from their parents. A move to the exclusive community Sapphire Cove could change everything, if they get in.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Mult Incest Group Sex Swinging Voyeurism Nudism
Over the next week, operation “Get Busy,” as Leah first called it, or the new name she came up with, “Fuck My Friend,” was in full swing. Leah wasn’t exactly subtle in her hints to that fact either. Every time Jordyn hung out with us, Leah would just flat out tell Jordyn that we should just fuck already and get it over with. Jordyn was absolutely mortified when that was suggested the first time. Not because Jordyn didn’t want to, she obviously did, and even said as much, but when Leah said it, the four of us were in the hot tub, and my parents were in the kitchen making dinner.
There was one small problem with Leah’s plan, and that was Nik.
“I think you should wait for someone else,” Nik said. “You know, someone older.”
“What?” Leah looked stunned at Nik’s words. “Why the hell would she want to do that?”
“Because older guys are more ... experienced,” Nik replied. “It’s not like she couldn’t get any guy on the football team from the high school to pop her cherry. Besides, does Lucas even know how to use that stupid thing between his legs?”
“Hey!” I cut in.
“Nik!” Jordyn’s eyes widened.
“What?” Nik said. “That’s what you’re going to do, right? And don’t give me that look, Lucas. You have no idea how to fuck a girl right.”
“That’s—” I started to argue but was immediately cut off by my sister talking over me.
“I’m pretty sure you popped her cherry already with those freaky long fingers of yours,” Leah teased and immediately started snickering.
Jordyn tried to hide her face in her hands while Nik just grinned proudly and nodded once.
“That’s right,” Nik replied. “Just remember, when you put that dick in her, Lucas, I was there first.”
“Jesus, Nik,” I gasped. “You’re as bad as Danny.”
“Right!” Leah quickly agreed. “She is the girl version of Danny for sure.”
“I am not like that stupid perv.” Nik crossed her arms in front of her chest defiantly.
“Yes, you are!” Leah laughed, and I nodded, grinning.
“Is that true?” Nik looked to Jordyn, who wanted to be anywhere other than right there in that moment. “See, she doesn’t think so.”
“She didn’t even answer you!” Leah retorted.
“She didn’t have to.” Nik held her chin up high, like she knew she was right and there was nothing anyone could say that would change that fact. “I might be a bit of a perv, but no one is as pervy as that stupid goofball.”
Nik also did everything she could to make sure she was around every time Jordyn came over to our house. If I did any more than kiss Jordyn, Nik was there to break us up, telling me to keep my dick in my pants, which was funny since we were usually around the pool and naked.
Even with all the roadblocks, Leah didn’t let up. If Nik said Jordyn shouldn’t do something, Leah was right there telling her to go for it. It was always the same argument over and over. Nik would say, “boys suck.”
Leah would fire back with her sarcastic “no, boys lick, but they could suck on nipples, I suppose.”
“Girls are way better at licking,” Nik would counter.
“Dick’s are better than licks,” was Leah’s go-to reply to that.
“Chicks can have dicks too!”
On and on it would go, over and over, no one giving up an inch. Poor Jordyn was stuck right in the middle of it, literally. She’d had the benefits of what Nik was saying, and she had some of the ones Leah was talking about, too.
Meanwhile, the whole situation was starting to drive me crazy, and not in a good, “laughing at it,” kind of way.
There was one thought process that I thought I would never have in my life, and that was the idea that I looked forward to hanging out with my dad and his golfing buddies, just so I could get away from Leah and her friends. I mean, what kid my age didn’t want to hang out with three naked girls?
When it was time for my driving range sessions with Dad, I couldn’t get in the car fast enough. No matter where I went in the house or backyard, the girls were always there. There wasn’t anything I could do to get away from them. Mom wasn’t any help; she just laughed at my plight the one time I tried to get her to help me. So, on Wednesday, I was out of the house and in the car, waiting to go to golf league moments after Dad got home.
“Someone’s eager to get to the course,” Dad said, a small smirk on his face as he got into the driver’s seat. “Something you want to talk about?”
“No, no,” I answered too quickly. “I’m just excited to play.”
“So, this has nothing to do with a girl named Jordyn?” Dad asked, putting the car in reverse, and started backing out of the garage and out onto the street.
“What?!” I exclaimed. “Why would there be something with me and Jorydn?”
“Come on, Lucas.” Dad started chuckling as he put the car in drive, and we started down the street. “Do you really think your mom and I don’t talk? She told me about her talk with you in your room about Jordyn.”
“Oh...”
“Yeah, ‘oh’ is right.” Dad had one of those rare, “Yeah, I know what’s going on,” smiles that made me suddenly nervous. The moment dragged on a few breaths, and thankfully, he let me off the hook. “For the record, what your mom told you was correct. Just be honest with the girls, your sister included, and everything will work out just fine.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I sighed in relief.
“Alright.” Dad cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “No more talking about girls. It’s time to play some golf.”
“Thank God!” I replied, and Dad burst out laughing.
Dad and I climbed out of the car and headed for the trunk, where our golf bags and our golf shoes were. Dad popped the trunk and handed me my pair of shoes before grabbing his own and started putting them on. It was still hot, but today there was a nice, gentle breeze that helped to keep it from being unbearable.
“Alright, let’s grab a couple of buckets and then hit the range,” Dad said, tying his first shoe before dropping his foot back to the ground and then lifting his other, placing it on the bumper of the car. “Hopefully we’ll have time to hit a few putts on the putting green and maybe a few chips.”
“Sounds good to me.” I smiled, my shoes already tied as I hefted my bag out of the truck and slung the twin straps over my shoulders.
“Alright,” Dad said, stretching his back once before grabbing his own bag and setting its straps on his shoulders. “Let’s go.”
We were in and out of the clubhouse line to get our range balls and walking down the narrow path that led to the range moments later, and I saw the familiar figure of Bill already on the range.
“Hey, Bill.” Dad smiled as he waved at Bill, who was stretching out on the driving range.
“Charles, Lucas.” Bill smiled warmly. “Good to see you made it.”
“When have I ever not?” Dad replied, defending himself, but was still smiling and obviously not mad at the verbal jab. “Where’s Pat?”
Patrick, or Pat, was the fourth person on our team. He was a little taller than me but weighed three times as much as me. Pat was hilarious and could actually play golf, which I still didn’t understand because he was so big around that I wasn’t entirely sure he could see the ball on the ground.
“He’s over at the snack bar.” Bill nodded towards the clubhouse. “He said he was going to work on his putts after he got a couple of their frozen Snickers bars.”
“Mmm,” I moaned at the thought of those ice cream Snickers bars my mom refused to buy for Leah and me. “Ice cream Snickers are so good!”
“Damn right!” Bill grinned widely. “But that’s not what he’s getting. These are just frozen regular Snickers.”
“Oh...” I said, my face screwing up in a confused look. “It’s so the chocolate doesn’t melt in the cart.”
“Like they will last long enough for that to be a problem,” Dad joked, his voice low like he didn’t want anyone else to hear him making fun of Pat’s fatness as he dropped his bag and set down his warm-up bucket of balls. “Did he at least hit any balls on the range before he went on a snack run?”
Bill just smirked. “Do you want me to lie?”
“Damnit!” Dad complained, throwing up his hands in disgust. “He needs to work on his driver and fairway woods. If he could just find the fairway a couple times a round, he would be damned decent. Instead, we’ll spend half the round looking for his ball because he didn’t know where it went.”
“Ha!” Bill laughed. “Truer words have never been spoken.”
“Makes a guy almost miss Scott...”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Bill chuckled, holding up his hands in defense, waving off my dad’s words. “Unless you could hide Scott’s wallet, so he isn’t using the excuse of buying drinks as the reason he needed to talk to the cart girls anytime they drive by.”
When we got done warming up on the range, Dad, Bill, and I all had time to get a few putts in and some chips. I even got a few swings out of the bunker, just in case. I was pretty good about staying out of the sand traps, but it never hurt to get some practice in them from time to time. Pat stayed on the putting green the whole time trying to find other people to gamble with him on who could make what putt, much to Bill’s and my dad’s consternation.
Pat, unfortunately, was the one to lead off our foursome on the first tee box, and to no one’s surprise, proceeded to hit a monstrous slice that was hard for those of us watching to track, let alone Pat.
“Damnit, Pat!” My dad growled. “It wouldn’t kill you to ... you know ... use the damned driving range!”
“Oh, settle down.” Pat chuckled, his entire body jiggling as he did. “I’ll find it, I always do.”
“No, we find it,” Bill cut in, shaking his head.
“I guess that’s true, but I’ll point you in the right direction!” Pat grinned, and I found myself grinning right along with him. The guy was just happy all the time and joking about everything. As crazy as he was, I kind of liked the guy.
We did indeed find Pat’s ball off in the trees.
“Titleist two?” I yelled, finding a ball that had to be his.
“Yup!” Pat called back and turned his cart in my direction.
“It’s right here!” I yelled, pointing to the ground in front of my feet.
“Finally,” Dad groaned, and headed back to the fairway where the rest of our balls ended up.
I watched my dad stomp off, grumbling as he went, while I waited for Pat, who came skidding to a halt right in front of me, the back end of the cart sliding out to the side, grinning like a little kid at Christmas.
“Thanks, Lucas,” Pat said, climbing out of the cart and looking down at his ball.
“You’re welcome,” I replied and started walking towards my ball.
The rest of the hole went fairly smoothly. Pat never found the fairway, but the ball kept getting closer to the green with each swing. I ended up getting a routine par, missing birdie by a couple of feet, but having a simple uphill putt for par. Bill and Dad both birdied. Pat made a ridiculous putt from off the green to save par himself.
That just seemed unfair. He had been in the trees, then the long grass, barely missing the bunker on the right side of the green. Then he chunked a chip, leaving it about ten feet short of the green, but was in a mowed collection area, and ended up with the same score as I did. Like I said, it’s not fair at all.
After the ninth hole, a longish uphill par three, the four of us were having a pretty good round going and as a team, we were doing really well. Bill was under par, like usual. Dad was even par and proud of it. Pat and I were tied at four over par. It was confounding. I was playing really well and putting together a good round, aside from one hole where I kind of went off the rails and got a double bogey because I thought I could clear a little pond. Unfortunately, I caught the ball a groove or two low on the clubface and watched the ball splash right into the middle of the little pond.
Still, I scrambled to keep from letting the hole get too crazy and made up for it with a string of pars after that. All in all, it was as good a front nine as anyone could have hoped for. If Pat could keep a couple of drives in the fairway, I had no doubt he would be giving my dad a run for his money.
For me, I just needed to play the course and not try to beat my dad or even Bill. That was my problem, according to Pat and Bill. I was trying too hard to do what my dad or Bill were doing. I needed to play my own game, kind of like Pat.
The back nine went better, and that was thanks to Bill.
“Do you know why golfers on the tour use caddies?” Bill asked me as we made our way to the tenth tee.
“So, you don’t have to carry your own clubs?” I replied, grinning.
“Well, there is that...” Bill chuckled. “But the caddie’s job is a lot bigger and far more important than that.”
“I don’t know,” Pat chimed in. “Having someone carry your clubs for you sounds pretty nice.”
“Seriously, Pat?” Dad rolled his eyes. It was abundantly clear that Dad wasn’t a huge fan of Pat’s antics. You couldn’t argue with his scores, however, but the way he went about getting them drove my dad bananas. “You don’t even carry your own clubs.”
“I’m not good with uneven ground,” Pat fired right back, still smiling, but the tone in his voice had changed, hardening slightly.
“Ignore those two...” Bill lowered his voice conspiratorially, making sure he had my undivided attention. “You know, I’m pretty sure Pat plays the way he does because he gets those reactions from your father. He gets a kick out of it.”
“I don’t know...” I said hesitantly, looking at my dad’s reddened face.
“Trust me, I do.” Bill smiled. “So, caddies, what they really do is help their golfer play better. They help them select shots, find the right clubs, all kinds of things, least of which is reading the greens, that’s a big one.”
I knew all that, but I was curious where Bill was going with this.
“What if I acted as your caddie on the back nine?” My eyes flared, and Bill smiled widely. “You’ll have to listen to me, though. If I tell you to lay up or something like that, you have to do it. I think I could shave off a handful of strokes for you if you’re willing.”
“Sure, I’ve never had someone do that for me before.”
“I’m sure your dad has,” Bill said, lifting an eyebrow at me questioningly, waiting for me to say differently.
“Well, yeah...” I shrugged.
“And you didn’t listen to him. You were too busy trying to beat him at his own game.”
“Something like that.” I nodded.
“This time, just listen to my suggestions. If you miss hit one or whatever, no big deal, just try, deal?” Bill extended his hand for me to shake, and I eagerly reached out my own hand, which was immediately swallowed in Bill’s gigantic hand.
I hadn’t been this excited about a round of golf in a long time. For whatever reason, I just knew that if I followed Bill’s suggestions, I was going to play the round of my life. I still had to actually hit the ball and do the work, but I just had a feeling something was about to change for the better--a lot better.
The tenth hole was a long par five. It wandered ever so slightly to the right with a narrow fairway, that if you hit it anywhere right of the center, it would roll off into the tall grass on the right; virtually guaranteeing a score of par or higher, unless you got exceedingly lucky.
“Last week,” Bill said as we stopped on the side of the tee box, “you ended up down there on the right, right?”
“Yeah...” I sighed. “It never should have ended up down there, though.”
I remembered that drive clearly ... I’d hit that one perfectly, right down the middle with a hint of a fade. Then I got a ridiculous bounce hard to the right and ended up in the crap.
“How far do you hit that driver of yours if you just swing nice and easy?”
“I don’t know, two-fifty, maybe two-seventy-five.”
“It’s five-hundred-and-thirty yards to the green from way back here,” Bill said, reading the scorecard to make sure. “So, you can’t go for it in two.”
“I can, I’ve done it a few times.” I quickly tried to justify that by explaining what needed to happen for just that. “I just need to swing hard. I can get it out there over three hundred if I hit it solid and keep it on the fairway and not get a stupid bounce off to the right. Then it’s a good three-wood to the green.”
“Try it my way, just this once,” Bill suggested. “Remember, I’m your caddy, I’m not going to suggest something that’s going to make your score worse.”
The problem was, everyone else on the team could make it in two, even Pat. Hell, Pat had done it last week and got an eagle for God’s sake.
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