Chapter 5

"Now make sure you get to bed at a reasonable time," Mom said the next day.

"I will," I said. I had my golf bag over my shoulder and was almost out the kitchen side door.

"No wild parties."

"Mooom!" I protested. I hated when my parents teased like this. They knew I was a good kid.

"You heading out, Andy?" Dad said showing up.

"Yeah, Dad."

"No parties while we're gone," he said.

I grimaced.

Mom said, "You can call my cell if you need something, anything."

"I'll be okay," I said. I was fifteen. I wasn't a little child. They did the same thing last year on their anniversary when I was fourteen. Everything was fine then and it would be fine this year.

"We'll be home really late," Dad said.

"Okay," I replied mindlessly.

They were going to the big city. They'd shop in the afternoon, go to a fancy restaurant for dinner, attend the theater, and then make the late night drive home.

Mom kissed me on the cheek then asked, "You have your key to the house?"

"In the bag," I answered patting the zipper pocket. "I better go. Eric is meeting me."

Knowing Eric, he would be late as usual, but I needed to get out of the house to stop the onslaught of questions.

"Okay, honey," Mom said. "Have a good day."

"I will. Bye."

"There are leftovers in the fridge."

"I'll be okay, Mom."

I headed out the door. I couldn't take anymore.

I hit from the driving range for a half hour before Eric was supposed to show up and he didn't show up for another half hour as expected so I had a full hour to warm up.

Once Eric arrived we began. Weekends were the best time for us to play the entire course. During school afternoons Coach Sanders would stick us in sand traps or behind trees to force us to improvise in those types of situations. That was all good and well if you were a golfer that hit it in the sand traps or behind the trees, but that wasn't me. I was not saying I was perfect, but it was not bragging to say you were good when you really were good.

The bigger question was what would happen when the boys' golf team started in early spring. I couldn't practice with the boys and coach the girls at the same time. The girls started early because they needed the extra time. Did they ever!

Eric and I finished before noon.

"Do you want to play again after lunch?" I asked.

"I have to finish my English paper," he said.

"English paper?" I said concerned. I couldn't remember needing to write one.

"I was sick Friday. I'm hoping Mrs. Goldman will let me turn it in tomorrow."

"Sick, huh?" I laughed. There wasn't a paper.

"I was too sick! Next time I'll save some puke for you."

"Have fun," I said.

At home, I looked through the leftovers and decided to heat up a frozen pizza. It wasn't great but it was pizza. I ate half of it.

I now had to decide what to do with my afternoon. Golf sounded best, but it was always nice to have some company. I could go alone and I had many times, but I also had the house to myself. What could I do?

The phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered.

"It's Erin," the caller said.

"Hi."

"Are you playing golf this afternoon?"

"I was thinking about it, but Eric can't play."

"Can I practice with you? I want to get better but Eric won't help me."

"He's working on an English paper."

"He can't this afternoon because he's busted for faking that he was sick on Friday. Dad's making him work in the yard and then Mom's going to make him clean the bathroom. Besides, he never wants to help me. That's one of the reasons I joined the golf team, so I could learn from you."

Eric did fake it! What do you know?

"Well..." I wavered.

"Please," she insisted. "I'll listen to everything you say and try my best."

"Alright," I acquiesced. I knew that I probably wouldn't be able to practice for my sake and teach Erin at the same time, but I wouldn't mind the company. "How about I meet you at the golf course in an hour?"

"Okay!" she said excitedly.

In contrast to her big brother, Erin was on time. She was actually already there when I arrived.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Uh-huh," she said nodding eagerly.

We walked to the first tee. A threesome showed up at almost the same time, so I let them go first. It would take longer to play and teach. I didn't want to make anyone mad by holding them up.

"Take a practice swing first," I said when she teed up her ball.

I watched intently.

"Let your body help your arms go through," I instructed.

She tried again a few more times but couldn't get the hang of it.

"Watch," I said.

I teed up my ball and got into position. I nailed the ball. It was straight and long. It was my best shot of the day and actually got it on the green in one.

"Wow!" she said.

"I don't expect you to hit it as far I did but I know you can hit it better than you have."

She hit the ball for power this time but unfortunately it sliced off to the right.

"You held back," I said. "Let your arms go through."

It took Erin three more strokes to finally get her ball on the green. She then either putted the ball too soft or too hard. It took four more shots to finally get it in the hole. I sank my putt with my next shot. I eagled the hole.

When Erin teed off at the second hole, she reverted back to her straight but weak form. On the fairway, she had a decent hit with her iron and put the ball on the green. We were both on the green in two strokes. I putted first and sank it. Erin sent her putt sailing past the hole and the ball ended up farther away than she began. With her second putt, the ball only traveled a few feet and well short of the hole.

"Hold on a second," I said. I got behind her and reached around to place my hands over hers. "Now relax and let me do the motion."

We hit the ball. The ball stopped inches to the left of the hole.

"A nice easy motion," I said. I repeated the gentle swing several times.

"Your hands are strong," she said.

"Uh ... yeah." I said.

"And they feel nice."

"Thanks." I released her and pointed at the ball. "Now you try."

She made the very short putt.

At the third tee, I suggested that I help her practice her driver swing like we did the putt. We went through the motion while a twosome played through.

"Just let your elbow go," I said. "I'll hold on while you swing."

"Okay."

Erin was holding up to her end of the bargaining. She was listening to everything I said and she was trying her best.

I loosely held her hands as she swung and ripped through the grass. It probably would have been a decent shot if a ball was there. Her back foot turned and stepped on my back foot. I stumbled back then overcompensated to catch my balance which knocked Erin forward. The club dropped out of her hands as she put her arms out to brace her fall. I grabbed her to try to hold her up. Our feet became tangled again and I began to fall forward with her. My hands unconsciously went up her body in a desperate attempt to keep our equilibrium. It was no use. I landed on top of her with a hard thud.

"Ooof!" she grunted out.

I tried to get up but my hands were trapped beneath her. When I flexed my hands to try to pull them out, I realized I just squeezed her tits. Her tits were smaller than the other girls, but I unmistakably knew what I just squeezed.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Get off."

"My hands are stuck under you."

She lifted so I could pull my hands out then I got off.

"Sorry," I apologized.

"It's my fault," she said.

I was apologizing for squeezing her tits, but she was apologizing for the fall. I decided not to mention it again. Either she didn't notice or she decided not to say anything.

"That's what we call bad follow-through," I joked.

I was more aware of Erin when I held her during her next practice swing. I was aware of how her body felt in my arms, the scent of her hair, and the smell of her perfume. My dick stirred and was semi-hard the rest of our time. My dick caused a disturbance in my own game.

We only played the front nine. By that time, Erin had plenty of experience in the rough and in sand traps because holes four through six were hell for her game, but she kept a great attitude. When she hit the sand on eight, wedged out, then holed it on the next shot, she felt more confident. She felt even more so after the par three ninth. Erin's drive was short but solid. She pitched to the green on the next shot and sank the putt for par.

"I had a really fun time, Andy," Erin said when it was over.

"Just keep practicing that motion," I said demonstrating the swing.

"So what are you going to do now?" she asked.

"My parents are gone. It's their anniversary."

"That's cool. So you have the house to yourself?"

"Yep!" I said with a happy smile.

"I wish I could be alone. Eric is going to be in such a grumpy mood. It's his own fault."

"You could come over to my place. We could watch a movie or something."

I wasn't thinking of anything more than being a friend to Erin and I did enjoy her company this afternoon.

"Okay!" she said excitedly.

I walked her to her house, but stayed outside when she went in. She came out about ten minutes later changed into blue jeans and a sweat shirt. It was a little cooler since the clouds began to roll in.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Yes. I told my parents I would be watching golf videos at your place."

It helped that her parents knew me pretty well because of my friendship with Eric. I was over at their house plenty of times in my life.

We did the short walk to my house. I unlocked the door and let us in. Erin followed right behind me to my bedroom where I dropped off my clubs in the closet. We went into the den.

"Have a seat," I said.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Bathroom."

She was still standing when I returned.

I sat down on the couch and she sat down on the other end. I turned on the TV and changed to channel seven. There was a good chance golf was on. It was and the leaders were on the seventeenth with only one stroke separating them. I turned down the sound so we could talk.

"I really feel I'm getting better after today," she said enthusiastically.

"You are," I affirmed. "Practice, practice. You don't need a club in your hand to practice. You can even practice when you are in the shower."

"If I slip in there, it might hurt a lot more."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," I said.

"I know. A part of it even felt good."

"Oh," I said. I knew what part of the fall felt good to me. My mind briefly drifted to what it might be like to hold her tits bare skinned.

"Don't you want to know what I liked?" she asked.

"What did you like?" I said only because she wanted me to ask. My dick stirred as I thought about holding her tits. I didn't really care what she liked.

"I liked when you held my tits in your strong hands," she said.

"What?" I said. That caused me to focus on what she was saying.

"I liked it when you tried to get up and your hands ended up squeezing my tits."

"I ... I kind of liked it too, " I said deciding to go the honest route. I then decided to go fully honest. "I liked it very much."

"Would you..." she said nervously. "Would you like to feel them again?"

I nodded slowly then said, "Yes."

I moved forward, but she stood.

She said, "I thought we could do it like you were helping me with my swing."