Chapter 7

BOB
(Saturday 10/1)

One Saturday morning, Don and I made a tour through the house and garage looking for potential earthquake issues. I spotted a few, mainly bookcases and stuff which could fall over, so I dug out my cordless drill and strapping and tagged them into the wall.

I noticed a bookshelf over the head of their bed, full of books. I told him, "Unless you want to attempt to read them all at once in the middle of the night, I'd recommend you replace them with those stuffed animals over there. We spend about a third of our time in bed, so there's a 30% chance one will happen while you're there."

Ana immediately delegated Don and me to removing the books while she and Natalie spent the next twenty minutes getting the perfect arrangement of the various stuffed bears, monkeys, cats, chipmunks, you name it.

Being nosy, I looked everywhere; I even stuck my head up into the attic. I was especially interested in Natalie's room; I did a thorough inspection, but nothing unusual turned up -- it smelled wonderful, just like she did.

I steered them to the Internet sites on earthquake preparedness and recommended they make up a couple earthquake kits -- stuff like food, water, lighting, that sort of stuff.

In the garage, I saw three golf bags! "Don, from the looks of those, you all play, right?"

"Yep. We've all done it for years. Haven't been out at all since May, though."

"Aha! Withdrawal symptoms! That's Ana's problem! We need to get you guys out. There's a decent driving range and course about five minutes from here, and you get a Burbank resident discount."

Don immediately called an emergency family conference and they decided they'd go tomorrow.

"Do you play ... golf?" Natalie grinned at me.

"I don't know if you'd call it play yet. I started this summer, and I think I've learned you're supposed to hold the straight end of the stick in your hands and hit the ball with the crooked end."

Natalie got an evil look on her face. "You are coming with us tomorrow!"

"You just want to beat the pants off me, huh?"

She pinked up a little as she whispered, "I'd rather beat something else off."

"So would I. Patience. Our time will come."

NATALIE
(Sunday 10/2)

We went golfing early Sunday morning. Bob suggested we put the bags in the back of his truck so we wouldn't have to pack them in our car trunk. Don liked the idea, since he was usually the one stuck with putting them in.

Bob picked up a bag in each hand and straight-armed them into the back of his truck without hesitation. Jaysus! Don's bag alone probably weighed fifty pounds!

Just when I was about to climb in the back seat of our car, Mom said, "Honey, why don't you ride with Bob." She nodded her head seriously, grinned and flicked her head towards Bob's truck.

Me turn that down? No way, Jose! I dashed for the truck, opened the passenger door and slid right up next to Bob. He looked at me with an eyebrow question.

"Hello, there," I said in my most sultry voice. "Mom 'suggested' it."

Big Bob-smile. "And when Mom 'suggests' something, it usually behooves the suggestee to comply with alacrity, right?"

"Right." I sighed contentedly and laid my head on his shoulder for a few seconds. He smelled goood!

It was about a five-minute run into the hills up to DeBell golf course. Bob suggested we see if there happened to be a tee time available. We checked and there was! About an hour away.

Bob paid for us all. "We get a residential discount. The first time, it's my treat."

I'll go for it. I stored the information away for a later, very personal repayment with lots of interest.

At the driving range, Bob got us each a small bucket of balls, probably about 50 each, got in his stall and did his warm ups. I did mine, ensuring there was lots of bending and stretching.

I'd claimed two adjacent stalls for Bob and me. I took the right-hand one so my back was towards him when I was hitting. My evil plan began!

I had on my baggies but even with those, I noticed my ass got outlined when I bent over. For you non-golfers out there, when a golfer gets in position to do his shot, he sticks his butt out behind him -- men and women.

Each golfer has his own pre-shot ritual, such as waving the club, shaking his shoulders, whatever he's developed to get in the mind-set to take the shot. Mine was about three seconds long and now I added an additional move just before I started the take-away (backswing).

I wiggled my ass side-to-side about three times then started my swing. My first stroke was pretty much where I wanted it -- not bad for not having picked up a club in almost six months!

As I took my stance for my next stroke, I felt Bob's attention go exactly where I wanted it -- on my ass! Then when I wiggled it, I heard him groan. Yes! I decided the last wiggle was exactly what I needed to add.

After ten or fifteen balls, I casually turned around and watched Bob. He had a good grip and stance as far as I could tell, was relaxed and had an excellent athletic swing (where the upper body "winds up" then the legs drive the club through the ball). No hooks (bad bend to the left) or slices (bad bend to the right), but I did notice one problem.

It's probably pretty hard for a guy to concentrate on the ball when he's got a raging hard-on; probably something to do with the blood supply being diverted from the brain. Too bad. I stared at his crotch while he made a couple swings.

When he glanced up at me, I was still staring. I leered quickly and licked my lips. I felt a mental groan from him. He tried to concentrate for a couple of strokes but kept spraying the balls all over.

I remembered what George had done to Sherry when they were first learning to spirit-talk, so at the top of Bob's next backswing (when all the muscles are fully tightened up), I gave his dick a real light squeeze. I saw his pants flatten out, and he literally collapsed in a heap! YES!

He unwound his legs and arms, stood up and mock-glared at me. "You are so going to get it one of these days, Natalie!"

"Bob, day or night, I'm ready!"

"Groan." I felt him get even harder.

I turned around and continued hitting, making sure to keep in the last wiggle. In fact, I would occasionally wiggle my ass just as I took my stance, too.

Suddenly, as soon as I stuck my butt out, I felt a caress over both cheeks and must have jumped straight up at least a foot. Now it was my turn to glare! Bob was giving me his best innocent look while I scowled at him.

He blinked his eyes and said, "What?"

"You know what, buster."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Turn-about is foreplay," he grinned.

Foreplay. Fuck the foreplay, I was ready right then! However, I didn't think the course manager would appreciate a couple of golfers screwing on the driving range grass, so I let it pass and went back to hitting balls.

I kept feeling his caress every couple strokes then I started to spray my shots. I guess my blood supply was being diverted from my brain into my nipples and pussy juice production. Every swing I made, my sports bra squeezed my boobs and nipples and shot a jolt of energy right down to my clit!

Finally I said, "Truce?"

"Okay. For a little while."

It took me the rest of the bucket to steady out again and let my headlights dim down.

Our tee time was up, so we went over to the clubhouse and claimed our carts. Mom "suggested" Bob and I ride together. Yes again!

Bob let me drive. I think it had something to do with the fact that I climbed in behind the wheel and gave him a look which dared him to say anything.

"I like having a chauffeur," he grinned, so I drove the cart up the ten feet to the first tee.

It's a long hole, uphill. I managed to get a fairly decent drive off, up the left side. Bob put one right up the middle, about 175 yards. We applauded him, and he bowed grandly. We were off!

Ride and hit. Putt. Ride to the next tee. Fun! Mom and I were hitting from the front tees (women's), Don was using the back tees and Bob used the middle ones.

At the third hole, while Mom and I were setting up our balls, I told her, "Mom, the guys are staring at our butts."

She smiled gleefully. "I know. Male prerogative. However, we might as well make it interesting."

We hitched up our pants snugly into our crotches, bent over with our feet apart and knees straight and our asses pointed straight back then planted our tees. Of course we had to ensure the ball was placed just right on top of them, which involved several good butt-wiggles.

When we stood up and turned around, Don was flat on his back playing dead. Bob was on his knees with his right hand over his heart and his left hand straight up, shaking like a leaf with his face contorted. He slowly fell forward on his face and lay still.

Mom and I high-fived! Got them!

We'd all made good drives, so we had about a minute's ride. Bob had miraculously recovered and was just lazing on the seat. He turned his head and stared at my boobs.

He licked my nipples with a hot, very wet phantom tongue! They popped straight up even with my sports bra trying to hold them down, and I ran the cart off the track!

After I got the cart back on the track, I asked, "So the truce is over then?"

"Well, I think we'd better keep the truce while we're in motion or you'll be a golf widow before we're even married."

Married! Jaysus, it sounded great.

I said, "Okay. Truce while anyone is in motion, getting ready or hitting."

"Truce."

At the eleventh hole, we took a pee call. Don and Mom took theirs first; us younger folk have better bladder control, I guess. I got in the stall, yanked everything down, sat and let it flow. After I patted dry, I had a nasty idea! We're not in motion!

I called him, "Bo-ob! Oh, Bo-ob?"

"Yes, my precious, angelic sweetheart?"

I told him, "Feel this!" I stroked my fingers from my pucker up to Miss Clitty and pushed the sensations at him.

"Holy shit!" I felt him grab Little Bob and start his own stroking.

Damn it was fun! He was feeling what I was feeling, and I felt him build up, too! Yes! In a couple of minutes, we shared a great mutual orgasm! I managed to keep it down to a loud moan, but my heels were really bouncing on the floor!

I had to mop up a lot -- there was pussy juice dripping off my butt. I put a thick wad of TP in my panties, just in case; we still had eight holes to go!

When we came out, Bob grinned at me, gave a big fake sigh of relief and said, "Well, the tension is relieved for a little bit, at least."

"The day is still young, so be warned!" I laughed back at him.

We actually behaved ourselves the rest of the back nine. We shared lots of kisses and hugs but kept the rest off limits until we were done.

Understandably, I had a score of 110 -- I usually hit in the low 90s. Bob was in last place with 120. Well, he's a beginner, so it wasn't really at all bad.

Bob told us all, "Since I'm the low man, I guess it means I spring for dinner, right?"

Mom grinned at him. "Since you offered..."

BOB

I took them over to Tony Roma's for dinner. It had relatively decent prices, decent food and good service from a foxy-looking young lady. Natalie gave me an elbow in the ribs every time I looked at her.

We had a very nice time. Ana was laughing, cracking jokes, putting out really bad (great!) puns and kept snuggling up to Don. Nat and I felt "happy! happy!" from her all the time.

I dropped their bags off about 7:00, kissed Natalie and went home. I got my shower, practiced my cards, generally goofed off, and got to bed around 10:00.

I reached out over the two blocks, gave Nat a nice kiss and asked her, "What cha doing, sweetheart?"

"Wondering whether or not I have enough energy left to play with myself."

"Oh, my. Well, if my pretty lady needs some help..."

Sproing! I felt her nipples pop up and her pussy get slick. She gave me a, "Hmm..."

"Nat, before we start anything, let's find out something. Was I too rough today? Did it hurt any time? I had no idea how much pressure to mock up, so I tried to be just over a tickle."

"It was purrrrfect, Bob. Any lighter would have tickled and much harder might have hurt. Did I squeeze you okay?"

"Very okay."

"Good."

"Let's try something. You're in bed right now?"

She sent me a fake blush. "You peeked!"

"Not yet but if you insist..."

"In a little bit. What perversion did you want to try? Pant, pant!"

"Later. Let's see how much pressure one of these touches we're doing can do -- on something which doesn't hurt. How about you roll your sweet bootie off the bed."

She rolled off the mattress and stood beside it. "Okay."

I looked. She was totally beautiful all over with her alabaster skin and freckles -- especially those two big freckles in the middle of her chest!

We saw the cover flatten out a little bit.

"More pressure now."

The mattress got a dent in it a foot across and a half-inch deep.

"I'd call it a 'mild.' Now more pressure."

The dent was several inches deep.

"Nat, stand on it with one foot, and let's see how deep it goes."

She climbed on, bounced once or twice (her breasts vibrated beautifully!) and stood on one foot. The dent was about three inches deep.

"You're about 130, right? That means my 'mild' was putting out around 150."

"Ouch, it could hurt over a small area."