Johnny & Steven MASTERS
Chapter 13

 

Sex Story: Chapter 13 - Follow along the story of the greatest golfers ever. Johnny 'Cannon' Masters and Cory his Wife/Caddy ... Along with their children, that inxludes Steven 'Howitzer' Masters. He may be even more talented than his old man!

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Teenagers   Romantic   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Celebrity   Sports   Incest   Mother   Son   Brother   Sister   Anal Sex   Cream Pie   First   Oral Sex   Petting   Pregnancy   Safe Sex   Tit-Fucking   Voyeurism   Big Breasts   Leg Fetish   Small Breasts  

LIFE-DEATH-SEX-Forty-what?

We were all back in Loveland, with Mom starting to pack up her stuff to move in with us in ten days. She had me look through Dad’s stuff to see what I wanted. My feet were bigger, my taste in ties was about the same ... so I got some of them. She boxed everything else up to give to Goodwill. We decide to wait to put the place on the market until after the tournament. We’d stayed with her until we had to go.

At night, Mom cried herself to sleep. I was amazed at how strong she’s being about all of this. She certainly had a ‘stiff upper lip’ through it all. During the day she was making phone call after phone call to do all the things necessary. Cory assisted her when she could ... they hadn’t had any time together in a very long time ... Something good to come from this.

Due to the announcement that John Masters had died, we started getting emails.

We told everyone that was John Masters Senior was who’d passed. Most of my buddies on the tour sent us condolences; even Commissioner Finchem took the time to write us.

Cory added an announcement on the website, adding thanks to those who have already mentioned it. The most touching was from Tiger;

“TO: The Masters”

“I am so sorry for your loss, Johnny and Cory. I feel your pain ... really, I do! My Dad Earl died when I was only 31 and that hurt like hell. Don’t fight the emotions that you feel ... allow yourself to grieve. Don’t think that you are going to forget about him ... you won’t! Memories will fill you when you least expect it, embrace them.

Your mother will not have him by her side for the first time in a very long time, help her all you can ... Moms are special!

I don’t know if to expect you at the WGC Cadillac or not ... whatever you do, keep him inside you ... always!”

I showed it to Cory who had starting crying almost immediately, as I had.

“MOM!”

“Yes, dear ... what is it?” she said walking into her living room.

“We’re taking you out to dinner, you can’t say ‘No,’” I said. “Dress in something nice ... OK?”

“Are you taking me out for pity’s sake?” she said crossing her arms.

“No, I want to take my ladies and show them off, come on, get going? You too, Cory!”

We pulled up to our favorite restaurant ... the Loveland Red Robin. As I opened the door to let the ladies in, we were bombarded with people saying, “We’re sorry for your loss” and “Welcome Back” from both employees and some of the clientele. There must be a lot of regulars, good!

“Sit anywhere you’d like, folks,” the hostess said to us. “You must be Johnny’s Mom ... I am so sorry for your personal loss!”

“Thank you dear,” mom said back to her. I saw them touch hands for a moment.

We all sat down in a corner booth, as I was handed menus for the three of us. I handed them off to the ladies. I actually saw Mom smirk a little.

“What?” I said to her.

“That young lady who seated us, sure did look like she was swooning over you honey?” mom said.

“Mom!” I retorted, “That’s Susan, she knows that Cory and I are very happy together. She still flirts a little, but Cory and I have a ‘Look ... but don’t Touch’ rule if we get flirted with. Eventually, I wouldn’t doubt if you start getting ‘hit on’ at some point, you are something of a cougar.”

She slapped at me, smiling at the compliment. We looked over the menu, that I have practically memorized, and suggested a few things to Mom. Susan came back and took our order, still fluttering her eyes at me.

She left with our order, Cory looked at me saying, “Behave yourself!”

“I can’t help it if I am such a babe magnet ... I have the two hottest ladies in the restaurant on either side of me. Point made!” I laughed.

Both of them laughed with me. Mom took my hand and quietly said, “Your father’s funeral services have been scheduled for the day after tomorrow. When do you leave for Florida?”

“That same day ... only later ... we can do both, we have to!” I remarked.

Susan arrived with our food ... we ate quietly, leaving back to Mom’s place. Cory and I loaded up her personal things and we all headed to our now ... shared home. I picked up Mom and carried her over the threshold, with her giggling as I carried her all the way to the room she would be taking over with moving in with us. I took her to the end of the hallway ... our fourth bedroom.

“Why so far away, John?” she said looking at me strangely.

“Well Mom, when Cory and I are home ... we will be enjoying ourselves, if you get my drift?”

“Oh ... OH, my dear ... I wasn’t thinking clearly dear, put me down please?” she said fixing her dress.

Cory had followed us in, carrying a suitcase. I gave Mom a quick peck on the cheek and said, “I will get the rest of your stuff ... be right back!”

I came back up with the rest of her stuff ... I put them up on her bed. Cory opened her suitcase, but Mom pushed her away, “I know how to unpack myself. Kids, I know you want to help me get over your father, but I don’t want to get over him. I want to hold on to him ... just as long as I can. I will cry and mope for a while, but I will be stronger when It’s all done.”

“Now go ... let me move myself in,” she said pushing us physically out of the room.

“We will be in the spa, come join us when you feel like taking a break,” I said.

“Maybe I will, now go ... get out!” she said flapping her hands at us while opening the first of her suitcases.

Within twenty minutes, Cory and I were enjoying ourselves and Mom walked towards us in a black two-piece bathing suit. It wasn’t a bikini in the strictest sense. It covered more than your typical bra and panty. But she sure looked great!

“Wow ... I was wrong before, you are not a cougar ... you are a MIL ... beautiful woman who deserves all of the happiness she can get her hands on,” I said.

“What was it you almost called me, Johnny?” she said.

“Mom, I am sorry ... I can’t?”

“John Masters ... I demand that you tell me exactly what you almost said come on now ... spit it out!” she said getting into the spa and walking towards me.

“Mom ... please don’t make me say it! It’s disrespectful and I am sorry I almost said it. Can’t we just leave it alone?”

“Johnny,” Cory said, “Go ahead ... explain it to her ... tell her about your feelings for her.”

“Feelings for me ... you mean my own son has ‘those’ kinds of feelings for his own mother?” she said now right in front me sporting a smug smile.

I stood up, standing about five inches taller than her, and put my hands on her shoulders. “Mom ... the word I kept from saying ... is ... MILF!”

“And what does that term mean? I have never heard it before!” she said.

“Go on, Johnny,” Cory said.

“It’s an acronym Mom ... it stands for Mother I’d Like to F ... F ... Fuck!” I said lowering my head in shame at saying that out loud.

Things got very quiet ... she looked up at me ... and slapped me ... getting out of the spa and running to her room. I went to Cory and I just cried for a long time. She held me softly as we eventually got out of the spa and changed into dry clothes.

Nothing from Mom for over thirty minutes, so I knocked on her door softly, “Come in,” I heard her say. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, still in the bathing suit. She touched the spot next to her, inviting me to sit down.

The moment I sat down, I grabbed her hand. I turned to her and said, “That expression only means that you are a really beautiful older woman, who’s had a child ... I didn’t mean to say or imply that I want to do ... anything sexual with you. You are a sexually attractive woman ... I could tell that you and Dad had rekindled your physical relationship over the past couple of months. You seemed more aware of yourself ... you dress a little more provocatively. You are pregnant, so Dad obviously thought all the same things I am saying; only he was in a position ... to do something about it. If you weren’t my mother, on the other hand, and single ... and Cory wasn’t in the picture ... I’d be on you like white on rice!” I said.

“Oh Johnny ... I am so sorry I slapped you ... are you OK?” she asked.

“Yeah, That’s NOT the first time I have been slapped, and probably not the last time either,” I said with a chuckle. “How about I call you a ‘yummy mummy’ instead?”

She looked at me cockeyed. “Oh, that means young, attractive and wealthy, it’s more a brit term, but it works for you. There’s always the term ‘cougar’ ... that’s a woman who seeks ‘companionship’ with much younger men.”

“I think I like ‘Yummy mummy’ best,” she replied.

“Are we OK, Mom?”

“Yes, you are so much like your father ... we met when he was your age. I was pregnant with you when we married,” she said.

“Does Cory look like you did at her age?” I asked.

“A little ... I was blessed with a ... full figure at a young age, so the boys were like lap dogs ... your father and I met in college. We had a class together called ‘Psych 309 ... Examining Love’ and we did ... and then we ‘did’ ... and you were born less than eight months later. He stayed in college, and I left to start our family together. It was nine months to the day that your sister was born. I thought I was through having babies, but now ... I really want this child ... you understand, don’t you?” she said touching my cheek with her hand.

I took that hand in mine as I leaned in to give her a chaste kiss, but she startled me and kissed back. I didn’t want to upset her psyche, so I let it go on as long as she’d wanted. There was a knock on the door, but Mom wasn’t letting up, as Cory walked in to me and our mother french kissing.

Cory cleared her throat ... that got Mom’s attention, and we separated from one another. Mom was breathing hard ... as was I.

I got up and went to my sister/wife, who was crying a little. “She started it?” I gleefully accused pointing back behind me.

“Well, he wasn’t fighting very hard ... were you?” mom said putting her hands on her face to hide her blush. “Ooh, Johnny ... just to let you know ... you kiss just like your father does ... did.”

“Sleep well, yummy mummy?” I said walking Cory out of the room.

“I will now, you lothario you!” she said.


Dad’s church service and funeral service were both beautiful. We had only a few people show up, some of the employees of Red Robin and the half a dozen friends we’d made since living in Loveland. If we’d had the services in Pahrump, we would have filled the little building the church service was in.

Everyone walked to the Funeral site; I was holding both of my girl’s hands as we all cried again. I had planned to say a few words.

“John Masters Sr. was the best Dad in the whole world, he wasn’t a ‘my way or the highway’ kind of guy. He let you have your say ... then he’d tell you what to do.”

There was a light chuckle in response to that.

“He’d never let me be anything except what I was capable of being ... he loved his family very much. My sister ... who I miss every day very much ... would often say, ‘I love Daddy so much, I wanna marry him when I get older.”

Again a few chuckles from the crowd, Cory gave me such a look.

“Lastly, since I wasn’t at my sister’s funeral ... I just want to say to her ‘I miss you, munchkin!” I started crying so hard; Cory came and took me by the arm.

The Monsignor said a funeral prayer in Latin as Mom had asked ... and it was over. The small crowd left the three of us alone.

The only person left there was the groundskeeper who would do the actual burial. As we walked away, I turned around and saw him doff his cap to this man he didn’t know at all. I heard him softly say, “Que Dios este con vosotros?” (May God be With You)

We took Mom home, and grabbed our suitcases for Florida. “Cory, can I kiss your hubby goodbye, please?” she said.

“Certainly, Mrs. Masters ... go ahead.”

I think I knew what was about to happen ... I suspect Cory did too. Mom walked up to me and started a real soft kiss, like before and she really got into this one, actually rubbing up against me a little. When it was over, she said, “Toodles.”

We loaded up the car and left for the airport.


We arrived Tuesday evening, only one day before the actual tournament started, but we desperately needed to play the course at least once to learn it.

We took our rental and arrived at the TPC Blue Monster golf course in Doral Florida. We walked up and saw the usual Golf Channel logos everywhere. NBC covered the weekend.

“It’s Johnny!”

We were quickly surrounded by many people, all giving us condolences. Adam Scott parted them saying, “I wasn’t really expecting to see you two this week ... glad you could make it.” He led us through the masses as we first checked in at the Pro Shop. Cory got us some tees ... no such thing as too many tees! She also picked up a couple extra scorecards ... it’s her way of tracking everything. We left to get some time on the practice range first ... warming up is very important to golfers. Both David Duval and Fred Couples told me that they’d wished they had a better workout regimen when they were younger.

“Did you find out who we’re practicing with today, wife?” I said rather subordinately.

“Jim Furyk and Charl Schwartzel, hubby ... we tee off in 44 minutes, we’re fine on time,” she said giving me a chaste kiss.

“Here now ... there’s no kissin’ in golf,” came a very familiar Irish voice.

“Hey David ... how’s the wife with your retirement?” Cory asked.

“She’s quite happy, thank you very much ... She’s enjoying me almost as much as I enjoy myself ... wait, that sounded wrong ... didn’t it?” he said.

We both chuckled at his wordplay.

“I was very sorry t’hear about your father, Johnny ... Shouldn’t you be at home with your mither?”

“It’s funny David, she practically kicked us out ... telling us that Dad ... wouldn’t want us to miss a golf tournament ... the services were all yesterday. Thank you for your kind words. Now, we need to get through our practice ... see you in the weeds, or the sand.” I said.

“Yeah, you’d think they raised cats around here,” he said laughing at his own humor leaving the practice area.

We finished up and found Jim and Charl standing and waiting for our time. We all shook hands and checked for ball numbering. All is good.

“Next up is the 9:42 tee time”

“Currently ranked 24th in the World... 2010 FedEx Champion and the 2010 PGA Tour Player of the Year ... Jim Furyk.”

There was a nice applause, he’s 42 but has kept himself in good shape. He teed it up and stroked a beautiful swing about 300 yards straight down the fairway.

“Currently ranked 30th in the World, and winner of the 2011 Masters ... Charl Schwartzel.”

His applause was rather loud, Cory showed me that he was 28, and from South Africa, then turned off her phone. Charl hit a high shot, landing alongside Jim’s ball.

“He’s at 49th on the World Rankings, and has won every PGA Tournament he’s entered, UNLV Player of the Year in 2011 ... Johnny ‘The Cannon’ Masters!”

My crowd loves me, and the crowd bristled with noise. I know what they wanted to hear me say, so “Cory ... hand me Bertha!”

I heard Jim say to Charl, “Check out his swing.”

I teed it up, feeling good, corrected my grip and swung hard ... it went flying past where Jim and Charl landed. The crowd loved it. I started walking and my girl caught up and held my hand.

OK Dad ... No Mercy today ... but this is a damn hard course. This is just a practice round, but Cory and I were playing today like it counted.

Hole Number one:

578-yards Par-Five

We all were on in two, but I had an uphill putt of eight feet left, while Jim and Charl were long and had putts of about 25 feet. I made my eagle ... they both had birdies.

Hole Number Two:

381 yards ... Par-Four

With the honors, I decided ... with Cory’s OK, to air one out. I put my 4 wood in the bunker right in front of the green. Jim and Charl weren’t as bold as the Cannon, getting on in two. My first trip to the sandbox ... I carefully pitched it and it rolled one foot short of the hole. Jim made his birdie putt, Charl misread his, getting a par. I stepped up and made my birdie.

The crowd that followed us around included David, who motioned if he could tagalong down the fairway. “Sure, Boyo,” I said to him. “Dinna tink you can talk to me whenever, alrightee?”

He let out a great guffaw at my horrible strange sounding attempt, saying “You not only fubared your accents ... I think you went from Irish to Scottish, then back to Irish ... all in the matter of a single sentence.”

Hole Number Three:

404 yards - Par-Four

With a lake down the right side of the fairway, staying left was an obvious ploy. I took out my two-iron, and hit it really easy, leaving me 250 yards to the hole. Jim, using his smooth swing, put his about 20 yards past me. Charl was the ballsy one and took out what might be a 6 or 7-wood, hitting a screamer 40 yards past both of us.

He’d finished 4th in this tournament last year, so he knew this course better than me. I walked alongside him and asked, “How long have you been playing golf, Charl?”

“I started at nine years old, learning the game quickly. I beat everybody my own age, so I became a professional at 18 years old. I didn’t join the PGA Tour until early last year ... I still play a lot on the European Tour. Since winning the Masters last year, I have started to focus more on the PGA Tour. Bigger crowds and bigger paychecks!”

We gave each other a high five and separated as Cory and I approached my ball. “I think you took a little too much off your regular swing, today ... I will remind you to swing away tomorrow. You got 250 to the green ... I don’t know if you can hit your two-iron that far ... your call, hubby?”

“Hand me the four-wood ... I will take a bit off and fade it to the right ... and let it bend around that water a little,” I said. She handed me the four-wood and stepped away.

I practiced once; she gave me a thumbs up. Aiming left, I addressed the ball and gave it a nice ‘not too hard’ swing. It traveled, and faded ... dropping on the green and rolling itself into the hole ... Un ... Fucking ... Believable!

The crowd went apoplectic as Jim was applauding and Charl was smiling big. Cory insisted on a kiss. David came up and said, “That’s really amazing, young Mr. Masters ... I would think that your father would have enjoyed seeing that shot!”

“He did, David ... I know he’s watching, and he did see that shot!”


The other guys made their pars. Things got worse though ... I put a ball in the water on Number four (196 yards-Par 4), scrambling for a par in the process.

I found another bunker on Number Five (402 yards-Par4), getting another par in the process and took a potty break before I got a birdie on Number Six (416 yards-Par 4)!

On Number seven (442 yards-Par 4), the bunkers were positioned exactly right, as all of us got on in regulation, with me salvaging a birdie out of it.

Hole Number Eight:

528 yards ... Par-4

The drive on this hole was easy enough, with a little fade and Bertha, I was only a middle iron from getting on the green. This green has water on three sides, and sand on the back and left ... so you either come in on the left or hit a high shot to the green, hoping it lands softly.

When it was my turn to play Cory and I discussed which to use. “Cory ... by distance it’s five or six-iron, but I don’t think I could keep either of those on the green ... what do you think?”

“Well, you could over swing an eight-iron and hope for the best,” she mentioned.

“Cory,” David called her, “Come here!”

“Yeah, David?”

“I have seen him hit the shot before, but it was before his back problem ... you remember?”

“Thanks, DF!” she said coming back to me.

“Whatya got?” I asked.

“A seven-iron, hood it but keep your hands ahead of your club head through the shot... No Mercy!“ she said dropping a tear down her face.

She handed me the seven-iron as the crowd went still. I didn’t take a practice swing. I addressed the ball and swung just as she’d told me to ... it went high, like we needed ... then dropped on the green thirty feet past the hole. The backspin started immediately taking it all the way to the edge of the hole ... waited a moment ... then dropped in for an Albatross!

Everyone in the immediate area screamed as I walked with my caddy up to the green, doffing my ART cap and raising my seven-iron. The others finished as we walked to the Number nine tee.

“Cannon,” David said, “If I am adding correctly, you are ten under?”

“That’s right David,” Cory seconded.

 
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