Ideal Suburbia Ch. 08

This is a series of stories that are a sort of sequel to two text-adventure games. Each installment is a complete story on its own, but for a full understanding, the reader may want to start with Chapter 1.

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"Gretchen? Hi," I said on the phone to my current impossible sales prospect and general Great White Whale of our sales department. If our number one salesman, as well as our owner herself for that matter, could not get any business from this women, how was I expected to do so? Still, it was my assignment to try.

I had no plan. I just needed to get to know her better so I could maybe find an angle. If I could find an angle, then I'd try for a plan.

"Listen, I appreciate your meeting with me before. I think I have some good answers to the questions we identified. And while you gave me some great knowledge about your industry, those insights have left me with more questions. If you can find time to go over all this with me, I was wondering if I could offer to make it a dinner meeting, that way I'm not disrupting your work day."

On the other end of the phone, Gretchen laughed. "Sure. But what you mean is, a dinner meeting will give you a couple of hours where I am trapped with you and your pitch, as well as give you some expenses to show you are actually attempting this difficult sales job!"

"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid," I agreed honestly. "I was serious about what I said, but... guilty as charged."

"How about Monday?" she replied.

I still had no plan, but I now had until Monday to convince myself that I had one. In the meantime, the next morning was Friday, and that meant my golf lesson time. I was looking forward to this, since it was time for my second nine hole round on the course with my teaching pro Charlie, the enchantingly athletic assistant pro at Winding Hills Country Club, where I was being forced to take lessons by my boss. Charlie was both a good instructor, and pretty enough to induce me into working harder than I had to, in order to try to impress her with my efforts. My results would have impressed no one. So far she seemed happy to have me keep coming back for each subsequent lesson, though I don't know if that was because she thought I was a promising and dedicated pupil, or because she thought I was cute like a clumsy puppy.

I did not like the look of the clouds I saw in the sky as I took the interminable drive up to the north side of town to Winding Hills. I'd be pissed if I missed my scheduled round and had to spend the morning on the range again. I wasn't really admitting it to myself yet, but I was starting to like the game of golf.

When I arrived, Charlie already had our bags on a cart and was ready to go. "The weather looks dicey for later this morning," she said, telling me what I already knew. "Let's get going so we get back before the rain gets here. Try not to shank your tee shots into peoples' yards today. If you spend too much time being chased by dogs while retrieving your balls, we will never get all the way around before the rain!"

I was just glad she hadn't punched out pre-emptively. I had secretly worked hard that month at a public driving range, and its associated putting green. My quiet inner goal was to get around the Par 36 back nine in under 55 strokes this time. For this at least, I had a plan.

My plan immediately ran into trouble on the first hole, when I made triple bogey because of a flubbed chip shot. My short game was supposed to be my strength! I made up the difference on the second hole, scoring only a single bogey by virtue of a remarkable putt (if I do say so myself). Actually Charlie said it was remarkable too. In a way. "Pure dumb luck" and "remarkable" are synonyms, right?

Meanwhile, in her typical effortless athletic grace, my mesmerizing instructor birdied the first hole, and parred the second.

The third hole was a water par three. I was so excited to clear the water and land on the actual green off the tee that I blew my first putt way past the hole and settled for a bogey. I was still ahead of my plan.

The fairly easy fourth was uneventful. I managed a single bogey. At least I had some extra time to stare at Charlie as she found herself thinking about how to manage a fairly difficult putt her approach shot had left her with. She was wearing all white that day, with fairly tight slacks and one of her tight Nike mandarin collared tops that hugged her spare but delicious torso like it was tailored to it. Watching her squat to ponder her putts was always a nice break.

We were in the middle of the fifth hole, almost the farthest point on the course from the clubhouse, when the heavens open up, way ahead of schedule. We ran franticly for the cart (which had no roof) and Charlie began to drive like mad in the opposite direction from the clubhouse.

"Isn't it closer to go back the way we came?" I shouted, barely able to see in the sudden driving rain.

"There is an on-course weather shelter right up ahead," she shouted back, yanking the wheel of the cart to avoid a large branch which must have just been washed out of a tree in front of us. The shelter appeared out of the driving rain and we leapt from the cart and ran underneath the open roof structure. I wiped water from my eyes and looked around. It was sparse under here, with nothing but a single picnic table and no other occupants. I turned and looked at Charlie... and froze.

White is not your best choice in clothing when getting caught out in a rain storm wetter than the bottom of the sea. Especially not in thin, moisture-wicking polyester fabric. Both her trousers and especially her top plastered themselves to her body like paint. Thin paint. I suddenly had a very intimate knowledge of the style and design of Charlie's bra and underwear. Her panties were fairly conservatively cut but covered in a lacy pattern. And her bra was apparently as translucent when wet as her shirt. I was treated to a fabulous view of her large, dark, oblong nipples through both garments as they clung to the pert handfuls that were her breasts. This was going to get awkward.

Cathy looked down and realized how she looked. Her hands darted around, as she appeared torn between looking ridiculous either trying and failing to cover up what had already been seen aplenty, or just brazening it out. She froze in panic, then opted for option C and began laughing uproariously. Her delicate tits quivered under the sodden fabric of her top as she laughed. "I haven't got this drowned in six years," she gasped, and laughed some more. She looked up at me and I suddenly noticed that first, my clothes, though not white, were just as plastered against my body as hers were, and second, my appreciation of her next-to-nakedness has resulted in an eagerly emerging tumescence in my pants. Charlie looked away, but if anything laughed harder.

She perched on the edge of the picnic table and stared at me. Now I was the one trying to decide whether to cover up that which had been seen or brazen it out. I went brazen.

Charlie tugged at the cold sodden fabric of her shirt, pulling it away for her chest. It slapped back to plaster itself to her body anew, serving only to make it impossible for me to look away now. She shook her head and mused, "I had you pegged as an eager puppy." She then rose back from the table and took step toward me, "But maybe you are a hound dog instead." She kept approaching me with a speculative look in her eye. "Are you a puppy dog, or a hound dog?"

"Hound Dog," I proclaimed advancing toward her in turn and she halted, backing half a step in fact.

"Aren't you presumptuous?" she said, suddenly uncertain again.

"What can I say?" I asked ruefully. "My interest has made itself all too clear on its own and without my permission!"

That got her to laugh again, and she ceased retreating. "Are you saying that that, um, club can be mine sometime in the future?"

I looked significantly around at the near solid water racing from the sky. "No one five feet outside this structure could see us. I'm saying it is yours right now, if you are interested," I said, driven by a sudden need I had not anticipated, and displaying a confidence I did not feel.

She smirked at me and took another step to place herself right in front of me. Instead of looking me in the eye, she just stared down at my crotch. I lifted a hand to her chin and pulled it upward so I could kiss her, and suddenly she was embracing me and returning my kiss with interest. We pressed our bodies against each other and kissed ever more deeply.

A demonic thought took me and I slid my hands down to grasp her petite, athletic ass. She murmured her appreciation at this but her cooing was replaced by a shriek as I lifted her up and stepped both of us out from cover and back into the driving rain! In two seconds we were soaked through again and I carried her back under cover. I let her down gently and she sputtered at me in a nevertheless good-natured rage. "What the hell was that? I was just starting to dry out!"

"Well, being soaked to the skin had me doing far better than I ever expected," I replied, a shit-eating grin on my face. "I didn't want to risk our clothes drying out and ruining a very promising mood!"

She stood there, eyes wide at my effrontery. "Well! If my clothes drying out on my body is going to get me drenched again, I'm going to get rid of the clothes!" With that she whipped her shirt off over her head! Almost before the sodden garment slapped onto the picnic table bench, her hands reached behind her to unfasten and then remove her bra. Amazing as they had looked through the fabric before, her delicate boobies looked incredible now. She kicked off her shoes and undid her capris, sliding them to the ground, her panties following right after. She stood up before me, stark naked and preening. She looked ethereal and she knew it.

But then she frowned and crossed her arms, then hesitated and put her hands on her narrow hips instead. "Alright!" she demanded. "Your turn. Or mine, depending on how you look at it. Take it off. All of it. I want my Full Monty. And I want to see my new driver you promised me!"

Smoking hot naked women who demand that a guy strip generally get what they ask for, and this was not going to be an exception. I made short work of my shirt, shoes, and pants. I made a show of hesitation before slipping my boxer-briefs off, having to maneuver the waistband over my engorged penis as I did so. I placed them aside and stood tall before her, in more ways than one. "Satisfied?" I asked archly.

"Not yet," Charlie muttered, stepping toward me as if mesmerized. Her gaze never left my cock until her hand reached out to stroke it. She looked up at me, hand still exploring my shaft idly. "That is one hell of a driver you have in your bag."

I chuckled to myself, then said aloud, "It isn't a driver."

"It's not?"

"Absolutely not. I think I've demonstrated that I don't know how to use a driver...."

She began to laugh, but it turned into a shriek as I lifted her off the ground again. But this time I didn't carry her into the driving rain, but instead moved her to perch on the edge of the picnic table. I tilted her back and smoothly and deliberately slid myself within her. She gasped as my cock penetrated her. I suspected she was already as wet inside as she was outside and the welcome she presented to my entrance confirmed it. I stared into her eyes as I slowly, deliberately buried my tool inside her. Her arms wrapped around me, draping on my shoulders and she clenched her vaginal muscles down on my cock. I gasped a little in return.

But then I stopped and withdrew from her. My cock popped up and waved defiantly as I pulled out to stand-in front of her.

"What? Why?" she asked, confused.

"I promised you could play with this club," I replied with an evil grin. "It's all yours!"

She gawped at me for a moment, her hips still bucking involuntarily against a cock that wasn't there any more. But then she reached out and stroked my penis, almost as if in wonder. I was and am arrogant enough to suppose that she was disbelieving that this thing had gone all the way into her so easily. She grasped it and brought her other hand in to circle the tip with a fingertip.

"You just want a blowjob," she sneered good-naturedly.

"All guys always want a blowjob," I replied, matter of factly. "But then, I want lots of things."

"Well, if I'm to play with this club, I should get to know it," Charlie replied just as matter-of-factly. With that, she indeed bent over and stuck out her tongue. She licked me in soft strokes from the base of my shaft up to the tip, where she ran that tongue around the head to excruciating lengths. Then she licked her way back down to my testicles, which she licked and kissed as well. "You know," she said, in between licks up and down my shaft, "there is an old golf story where Jack Nicolas's wife believed that the secret to his success was that before he left for any tournament, she'd open his bag and kiss his balls for good luck. Apparently, it really made his putter flutter."

It is a very old joke, but I had never heard it. Then my laugh was cut off with a gasp as her lips suddenly wrapped around my cock and she slid me deep into her mouth. Her tongue writhed against the underside of my shaft as she sucked me in and out. One hand worked the bottom of my shaft that her mouth could not reach, while her other tickled my balls playfully. Man, my putter was indeed fluttering. I wanted to let it go on to its logical conclusion, but I was the one getting all the fun, and that wasn't right. Not when we couldn't know how long the privacy curtain of rain would last.

I ruefully withdrew my cock from her mouth and she looked up to see the light in my eyes. I pulled her up to stand and bent to suckle on those glorious titties. More than a mouthful, barely, they seemed independently alive in response to my tongue. My hand slipped down her belly to explore between her legs. Charlie moaned and writhed as my fingers began to probe her depths. My other hand cupped her ass and pulled her upward against me as I eagerly continued to devour her breasts. The slightly better angle let my probing fingers delve more comprehensively within her and it was not long until the stimulation began to build the reaction I wanted from within her. Her increasing moans of pleasure were lost in the thundering downpour and I pushed for more. My fingers flicked and teased at her delicate clit and I felt her knees buckle, leaving her held up only by the firm grasp of my hand on her tight little ass. She suddenly thrashed and nearly screamed as I dragged her shrieking orgasm out into the light of day.

"Oh god! Oh god," she gasped, clinging to me as the shudders washed through her.

Almost before they had completely abated, Charlie had dropped to her knees and had me once more in her mouth. Hungrily she gobbled at my cock, taking even more than before, despite the occasional choking noise when she sucked in just a tiny bit too much. There was still room for her hand to massage the base of my shaft, and her other hand slipped back to tickle my balls and the hypersensitive skin right behind them.

I considered pulling her up once more, bending her over the table and finishing inside her, but I could dimly perceive that the rain was slowing and I did not want to risk resetting my impending orgasm and getting caught out by a sudden ending of the rain. Besides, this was a really first rate blowjob and I so wanted to finish in her mouth.

Instead of pulling out, I leaned back and went with the increasingly rapid flow. Her head bobbed faster and I groaned at the increasing pressure. I moaned an urgent warning and she let me slip from her mouth. I looked down confused, but she was pumping my shaft eagerly with her hand, while she had opened her mouth right in front of my cock, Her tongue licked out and caressed and teased the underside, just below the head. The sight and sensations sent me over the edge and I saw my sperm leap out and spray into her mouth in several ropey spurts. Charlie kept pumping me, massaging up my shaft to milk every drip of cum out of me and onto her waiting tongue.

"Wow," I wheezed. "You can play with my club any time you please!"

"Yeah," she murmured glaring balefully at the suddenly dissipating rain, "and sooner rather than later. That was one amazing fuck you were laying into me to start, and it is pissing me off that we can't get back to it right now." Her hand strayed back to my wavering cock and we moved toward each other. But we both were hit by the sudden realization that the rain had stopped as quickly as it had begun, and we were both stark naked, in an open shelter, with houses right near by!

We grabbed our only slightly dried clothes and pulled them franticly on. We were both barely put to rights when two soaking wet morons who must have found no more shelter than a tree came sailing by on their cart. They saw us and swerved our way, having recognized Charlie. "How long do you think before play can resume?" one called out to her. She kept bent over, pouring water out of her shoe so that they would not see that her shirt still was a bit transparent.

"Not for hours, guys," she said without looking up. "There has to be six inches in the bunkers. Make sure to stay on the paths as you head back. I don't want to see any ruts on the course!"

They grumbled at the answer they already knew, and sped off for the clubhouse and a much too early round of drinks.

"Whew," she said flapping her shirt to help it dry faster.

"I guess you'll get rid of your white shirts after this," I laughed.

"I don't know, it worked out awfully damn well for me today!"

"Ha! Next time it'll happen during your eleven o'clock with Mrs. McGill. There would be some next-level shenanigans then!"

She slapped my ass and walked to the cart. Her shirt was till a bit see-thru, but I guessed she was counting on the breeze of her fast driving to dry it out by the time we got to the clubhouse. If not, some folks would get a show.