Donna ran to the front door when she heard the bell ring. She opened the door. John, her boyfriend, stood there with a seductive smile, "What's up babe?"

Donna smiled back, "Mom and Dad went to the mall. Their night to shop and eat out."

"Way to go good old mom and dad."

John stepped inside and pushed the door closed. He wrapped his arms around Donna's slim waist and kissed her hard. She kissed back until she had to pull away to catch her breath. Donna could feel his hard-on growing against her hip. As John kissed her cheek and then her ear, Donna giggled, "You can't be all that horny. How many times did we do it last night, three?"

John grabbed Donna's hand and pulled her toward her bedroom. "I did it three times. God only knows how many times you came. And I bet you're hot for some more."

Donna resisted his pull a bit. "Don't be in such a hurry. Don't you want to eat something or watch TV first?" Watching TV was their code for making out and heavy petting. Donna liked to cuddle first.

John acted as if didn't hear or didn't care. He just pulled on Donna's arm until they were in her bedroom. "Come on Donna, you know you want it just as bad as I do." John threw her on the bed, and then piled on beside her.

"Damn John, we've got time, don't go so fast." Donna was about to get pissed at John. She didn't like it fast and rough. She would have to admit though, that she liked sex. In fact, she liked it a lot. John had been her first and only lover, but even before him she'd been no stranger to orgasms. Unlike most girls, she'd found that erotic sensation easy to come by from an early age. And she'd discovered that sex with John multiplied those sensations ten fold.

They had been sophomores for their first sexual en- counter, and now they were just days away from gradua- tion. For most of her life Donna had been the tall, self conscious, awkward girl in class. The one who was always seen stooped over when walking in the school halls, trying to blend in with her friends. Girl friends that is, the boys didn't want to have anything to do with a female who towered over them.

Then, the summer after her freshman year, Donna blos- somed. Her five foot ten stick figure suddenly became curvaceous. A summer in the sun gave her body a tan and added blonde highlights to her light brown hair. Donna should have noticed the heads of numerous horny teen males turning her way that school year. If she had waited a while, Donna would have found the boys buzzing around her like the proverbial bees around a beautiful flower, but John was the first to approach her, and he blocked the other guys from her view.

John was one of the cool, in crowd. Good looking and, importantly, taller than Donna, the inexperienced girl was overwhelmed when John turned his sexy smile her way. It came to be that they had more in common than only a physical attraction, but the non-physical mat- tered a lot more to Donna than to John.

John rolled over and kissed her, jamming his tongue in her mouth. His hand went under her tee shirt and cupped one of Donna's breasts, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger. For a few seconds Donna resisted his rough groping, but then her body betrayed her. The heavy, warm, wet feeling began to gather between her legs, and she started to respond. She began to suck on John's tongue and tug at his shirt. Her mind told her not to encourage his behavior, but her body was begin- ning to anticipate another thrilling orgasm.

"Yeah, that's my girl," whispered John in her ear.

Donna could only moan in response. John jumped up. He had his clothes off in a second, and then he rolled a condom over his hard cock with practiced ease. Donna watched John's sheathed cock head bob and weave in the air as he reached down and tugged off her shorts and then the wisp of panties she was wearing.

John crawled back on the bed, pushing her legs apart. Grabbing his cock, he bent it down and pushed open Donna's pussy lips. In one shove he buried his cock as far he could into her warm clinging wetness.

Donna squeaked in protest. She may have been aroused, but she wasn't ready for this indelicate treatment. She started to ask John just what in the hell was going on, but he covered her mouth with his, stuck his tongue nearly into her throat, and began to drive his hips back and forth.

For two minutes John pounded away, scooting their bodies across the bed. Despite her initial pain, Donna was beginning to feel the first budding sensations of her orgasm when John suddenly shuddered and groaned in her arms.

Donna knew that he was filling his condom. Maybe not filling it, she thought. After cumming three times the night before, John must be pretty well drained.

Suddenly, without so much as a kiss on her cheek, he was off the bed and into the bathroom. Well, Donna thought, at least he got that out of his system. She would have her fun on the second go around. John's sexual technique could best be described as enthusi- astic and full of stamina.

But when he came back into Donna's bedroom, John didn't jump back on the bed, he began to get dressed. "Listen babe, we have to talk."

Donna's face turned red, and not from sexual passion, "You're damn right we do, if you think you can rush in here for a quickie just to get your rocks off then..."

"Donna," he interrupted, "I'm not going to Ellington."

"What?" Donna's anger turned to amazement. They had planned on going to Ellington College together for over a year. It was a small, academically exclusive and very expensive school. They both had satisfactory grades and money was no problem for Donna's parents, but John was going to have to depend on winning a golf scholarship to pay his tuition. Ellington had an outstanding golf team, whose quality was all out of proportion to the size of the school. They had their pick of golfers, but John was a hell of a player, and Donna felt that he could win a scholarship.

"The coach at State offered me a partial scholarship and I'm going to take it. I hear that the coach at Ellington had a heart attack and they wouldn't be deciding on scholarships until late this summer. If I wait until then, I might be left with my dick hanging out," he pulled up the zipper on his pants, "so to speak." John reached for his socks and began to put them on.

Donna stood up, hands on hips, not the least concerned with her state of undress. "But that'll put us hundreds of miles apart. What about our plans?"

"Look babe, we've had a good run, but this'll mean long separations ... and ... and I think we ought to call it quits." John finished with his socks and reached for his cross trainers, but before he could touch the shoes Donna reached down and scooped them up.

"Call it quits, huh?" Her voice was low and quiet and menacing. In fact, for the first time in her life, Donna knew what "seeing red" meant. It was as if a sanguine mist was filling the room. Her face was so red and flushed; she could feel her pulse in her cheeks.

"You come in here, practically rape me, and then an- nounce a break up?" she said, barely above a whisper. "You're not even willing to put out even the slightest effort for our future?"

John had completely misread her tone of voice just like he'd misread her feelings for him. "Put out? Yeah, for two years I put out plenty of stuff for you, babe." John patted his crotch with a smug smile. "Now, can I have my shoes?"

Donna broke. "Shoes!" she screeched. "You son of a bitch! I'll give you fuckin' shoes" Donna was no mean athlete; she gave John one of his shoes just as hard as she could give it. She swung the shoe at his head with all the force she could muster with her legs, hips and shoulders.

The shoe whipped off an upraised hand, that John had barely managed to get in harms way, then the shoe ricocheted into his forehead hard enough to leave tread marks.

Whacked into the reality of what he had brought out in his now very former lover, John leapt off the bed, one hand over the growing welt on his head.

"Damn, Donna..." He looked up, saw the look in her eyes through the hair that was lying wildly over her face. He began to back away through the bedroom door. Donna stalked him through the house like some sort of animal warning an intruder out of its territory. When John got to the front door he said, "OK, I guess you can keep the shoes."

As John turned to open the door, Donna launched one of the shoes at the back of his head. John yelped in pain as it connected. He turned to retrieve his shoe. When he bent over, he made the mistake of taking his eye off his attacker and the other shoe bounced off his head.

John managed to grab his other cross trainer, but as he backed out of the house, fumbling with his shoes, Donna screamed and charged the door. She slammed it shut and felt a satisfying thunk as the door hit John in the ass. She brushed the hair out of her face, folded her arms under her breasts, sighed and walked away from the door. Donna managed to make it back to her bedroom just before the tears came. She fell face down on the bed and gave in to her emotions.

One morning three weeks later...

Donna dragged herself into the kitchen for breakfast. At school and out in public Donna had put on a brave front. She'd gone through her high school graduation all smiles and acting as if John's leave-taking hadn't affected her at all.

But at home she spent her time in bed or curled up on the couch watching old movies on TV. This morning she was eating cold cereal while vacantly starring at the cereal box and wondering how they made those kernels of corn into flakes, when her mother came in.

"Morning dear," said her mom, pouring coffee.

"Hi Mom."

"Sleep well?"

"Not really," Donna sighed.

Her mother sat down at the table. "Donna, I haven't seen you this depressed since ... well, I don't think I've ever seen you this depressed. So, I called Cousin Randy last night. He said that you were welcome to come any time and stay as long as you want. He'll even get you a job at the club."

For several long moments, Donna stared at her mother, her eyes barely peering over the top of the cereal box. Randy was a distant cousin, whom Donna hadn't seen in years. She vaguely remembered him as being a tall, good-looking man with dark hair and eyes. Recently he had become the general manager of Ellington Country Club, a private golf and tennis club.

It was no coincidence that the college she was going to attend and the club had the same name. The members of the board of directors of the club were all Elling- ton College alumni, and their course was the home for the college golf team.

Donna had been planning to spend a week of her summer vacation with Randy and his wife Michelle. She was going to visit the college in order familiarize herself with the campus and surrounding area.

Donna stood, walked slowly to the sink, rinsed her cereal bowl, put it in the dishwasher and then went over to her mother. "Mom, you know how I really resent it when you interfere with my private life?" Her mother nodded. "Well, this isn't one of those times." Donna smiled and bent over to hug her mother. "I think it's a great idea. I'll get away from here before I start to get moldy."

Two days later Donna loaded her little two seat Miata, left her mother waving good-bye, and headed across the state for Ellington. After a few hours of driving, Donna even felt as if she were leaving her feelings for John behind. He was a jerk. Albeit a good looking jerk who could electrify her pussy.

Donna shook her head violently. She couldn't think that way. She was young and good looking. All she had to do was make herself available and she could have her pick of men for a satisfying, mature relationship. Or her pick of nice warm, hard cocks if it came to that.

Following her mother's written directions, Donna pulled off the interstate, followed a four-lane road into the town of Ellington and then, a couple of miles later, turned onto Country Club drive. She found the proper driveway and turned in. "Holy shit!" was all Donna could say when she saw cousin Randy's home. The drive swung in front of an enormous house. Donna figured that her own home would easily be lost behind one of the wings of this mansion.

Donna braked her car to a stop under a portico. As she got out of the car the front door opened and a handsome couple in casual dress came out. Randy looked as she remembered him: thin, good looking, dark hair with just a bit of gray. Michelle was a few inches shorter than Donna. She was pretty with brunette hair and a slim figure.

Everyone said their hellos and traded hugs. Randy grab- bed Donna's bags and led her to her room. "I can't get over your house," said Donna.

"You like our little hovel?" kidded Randy.

"It's not ours," said Michelle. "It was the original Ellington home. The Ellington that built the college and country club, that is. His will says it has to remain as is for about twenty more years. So the country club board rents it out or makes someone like us caretakers."

It turned out that her room was an entire suite. One she was delighted to retire to after a quiet dinner. She'd no sooner lain down on the king size bed than she fell, exhausted, into a deep sleep. She couldn't believe it was already the next morning when the alarm woke her in time to go to work with Randy.

After breakfast, it turned out that getting to work consisted of a ride in a golf cart. The Ellington house was right on the golf course and Randy often commuted to work using his private cart. As they rolled down one of the fairways Randy said, "I'll show you around the grounds today." He stuck a point- ing finger right under Donna's nose and said, "One golf course," as if it were something for her to check off a list. Donna giggled.

"Oh good, you can laugh," Randy smiled at her. "Last night, I was beginning to wonder."

"I'm sorry," said Donna. "I was just worn out after all that driving yesterday."

"Not to mention emotional stress."

"Oh God," said Donna. "My mother didn't bother you with my troubles, did she?"

"She did mention someone named John. I think her des- cription was: 'He's an insensitive great galloping asshole'."

Donna giggled again, "Yeah, it's too bad she didn't tell me that when John and I first met. Not that I would have listened."

"Don't worry," Randy patted her knee, "we'll keep you too busy to dwell on past boyfriends."

"Great!" said Donna, surprised that she felt a warm tingle in her leg where Randy's hand had squeezed.

That day passed in pretty much a blur of faces and names and places. They weren't back home until nearly seven and by nine o'clock that night Donna couldn't keep her eyes open. She fell asleep, fully clothed, on the bed while watching "90210" and woke up during Dave's top ten list.

Donna decided that she better officially go to bed, so she changed into her favorite sleep shirt. It was a short, threadbare thing that her mother had given her years ago. She was about to crawl back into bed when she realized that she needed something to drink. She could get water in her bathroom, but she wanted something with flavor. Maybe, she thought, there was orange juice or something in the kitchen.

Donna made her way into the kitchen without turning on any overhead lights. There were night-lights at intervals through the house. The kitchen was so big she had to actually hunt for the refrigerator among an expanse of stainless steel. But when she did find it, there was a carton of orange juice waiting. De- ciding that if no one was looking, then neatness didn't count, she drank two gulps from the carton and put it back.

Donna left the kitchen and tried to walk through the shadows back to her room. Only she made a wrong turn and got lost. She tried to back track, and she thought she had found her room when she saw a crack of light under a door and heard a TV. She almost opened the door, but stopped when she realized that the voices she'd heard were from Randy and Michelle, and not her television. Donna stood quietly in the hall and listened.

"My God Randy, what are you doing?" Michelle's voice came from their bedroom.

"What's the matter? Never seen a guy jack off before?"

There were a few seconds of silence then Michelle said, "Not tonight Randy, please."

"It's been a while honey."

"I know Randy, please, it's just a phase."

Donna heard the creak of bedsprings. "I guess I'll just have to sublimate my desire for sex into food. Want a snack?"

"No ... no thank you."

Donna realized that Randy must be headed for the kitchen. She ran on tiptoe until she could step into the shadows. She waited and watched as Randy passed.

He was wearing bikini underwear and nothing else. Donna couldn't help but notice a pair of firm buttocks and a healthy bulge in the front of those shorts. Obviously he hadn't yet completely lost his erection.

Donna thought about following those cute buns, but then she reconsidered. It would be stupid to try anything with an older man who was also her cousin; not to mention that his wife was in the same house. It would be better if she skirted the kitchen and went back to her bedroom.

She was quietly making her way through the formal dining room next to the kitchen when she solidly whacked her shin into a chair, sending it screeching across the floor. Shit, thought Donna. There's no use pretending I'm not here. I better go in the kitchen, grab something to drink if he's still there, and leave as soon as possible.

Randy walked into the kitchen. He wasn't really hungry. What he was, was horny. He didn't know what was up with Michelle, but they hadn't fucked in a month. Randy leaned against a counter. He might as well jerk off. That was the only sexual release he'd get tonight.

Randy pulled his bikini briefs down a bit and his cock swung free. He began to slide his hand along the shaft and over the sensitive head. He hadn't done this in a while, but it wasn't like he'd forgotten how. Hmmm, he thought, that Donna sure was cute. Not that he would actually try anything, but he could fantasize about her pretty face and hair and those pert tits, couldn't he?

Screech. There was a noise from the dining room. "Damn," whispered Randy, Donna must be running around the house, and here he stood, half-naked, with an erection. Randy headed for the door. It wouldn't do to have Donna see him like this. He could just imagine Michelle and Donna whispering to each other, having a good laugh at his expense. He'd rather skip that blow to his male ego, thank you very much.

Naturally, he and Donna crashed together in the doorway. Randy had moved so fast his still exposed cock poked into Donna's pelvis and slid up to her belly button. They both jumped back. "Oh! You scared me," they said in unison.

Randy turned away and tried to stuff his erection back in his shorts. He crossed his hands in front of his crotch and leaned, as nonchalantly as he could manage, against the kitchen counter. Clearing his throat nervously, he asked, "Donna, what are you doing up?"

As she slid past Randy, trying to maintain eye contact and not glance down, Donna said, "I just wanted some-] thing to drink." Donna took a glass and went to the refrigerator. She opened the door and stood there as she poured the juice. "Want some?" she asked.

Randy shook his head, but his body was screaming 'Yes! Give me some of that luscious body'. The light from the refrigerator turned the thin sleep shirt translu- cent, and Randy had a perfect view of the outline of her firm, high tits, long legs and cute ass.

Donna's hands trembled as she drank the juice. Talk about your awkward situations. Why didn't Randy leave? Was he going to stand there with his hard-on and watch her? Was he afraid to move or was he getting turned on?

What the heck, thought Donna? She put her glass in the sink and then looked at Randy. She gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile and walked up to him. He didn't protest as Donna put her hands on his and drew them away from his crotch. He gulped as she pulled out the waistband of his shorts and grasped his cock.

Donna knew that at this point John, her jerk-faced former boyfriend would have put his hand on her head and pushed her down saying, "Suck it baby, suck it."

But Randy just leaned back, thrusting his now leaking cock into her hand. Donna stroked him steadily. In less than a minute Randy's hips bucked and Donna felt the hot gush of cum on her hand and arm.

Without a word Randy took some paper towels and cleaned the evidence of their little tryst. When he was through, Randy took Donna by the hand and said, "That was in- credible, honey. I was beginning to wonder if I was becoming repulsive to women or something." He gave her a brief smile and then turned serious, "But we can't do anything like this again, ever. Understand?"

Donna nodded her head, kissed him lightly on the cheek and returned to her room. For a second she considered masturbating, but then she realized that she wasn't so much excited as she had a warm fuzzy feeling. For the first time since John had left her, Donna felt really good about her sexuality.

Donna spent the next few days looking around Ellington College and the surrounding area. She even spent a day with Michelle at her real-estate office. But she found the woman to be down right condescending and not much fun to be around.

Donna had about run out of things to do on her own when Randy offered her a job at the club. He introduced her to the dining room supervisor, who in turn put her under the wing of a lady named Sally.

Donna's job was to be a server in the club's dining room in the evening. It turned out there was much more to the job than she had assumed. She followed Sally around like a puppy for several nights.

The woman managed to keep up a running chatter about the people they worked with, her family and all the little duties and tricks-of-the-trade that a server needed. After a while the seeming disorder and chaos of the kitchen and server's station began to make sense and Donna became one of the crew.

Donna enjoyed her routine. She got to sleep until late morning, and then she had until mid-afternoon for herself. She went to work at four and she was usually off by ten. Sometimes she had a girl's night out with some of her coworkers. They would sneak her into some evening spot and then buy her drinks. Donna would giggle and laugh her way into the early morning hours with her pals.

Early one afternoon Donna took her paycheck and tips and decided to buy souvenirs from the Ellington Country Club for her parents. That meant a trip to the club's pro shop. They carried plenty of men and ladies' clothing with the club's logo. It also meant having to deal with the club's head golf pro, Jerry, a man who was known to the female wait staff as 'a legend in his own mind'.

He would never say or do anything that could be con- strued as sexual harassment, but Jerry managed to hit on nearly every female employee with whom he came in contact. Donna had never used the word 'smarmy' in her whole life, but it certainly came to mind when she saw Jerry. He was a slightly overweight man, in his late thirties, standing five and half feet tall. He had thinning, dirty blonde hair, and a mustache that managed to only discolor his upper lip rather than define it.

Donna was browsing through some shirts when Jerry came over. He got close enough to invade her personal space and spoke in ingratiating tones, "Hello Donna, can I help you with anything?"

She moved as gracefully as she could to put the clothes rack between them. "Oh don't bother with me. I'm just looking for something for my parents."

As Donna re-hung a shirt at which she'd been looking, Jerry reached across the rack to pat her arm with a clammy hand and said, "OK honey, if you want me ... for anything, let me know."

Donna smiled, "I'm sure I'd like something a lot younger." Jerry gave her a funny look. "In style I mean," she said, holding up a shirt.

At that moment Randy came in the shop. Jerry excused himself to speak to his boss. The two men discussed business for several minutes until Donna's browsing brought her near.

Randy called her over, "Doing some shopping?" he asked.

"Yeah, there's not much to do, except spend my hard earned money."

"You know, Donna, I've been thinking, said Randy. "The only time you come to the club is to work. Why don't you take advantage of your stay and take some golf lessons?"

"Lessons?" Donna stuttered. Randy hadn't been around her much since that night in the kitchen. This felt like some sort of impulse on his part to make up for avoiding her.

"That's a great idea," chimed in Jerry. He made it sound like Randy had come up with the idea of the decade.

"I don't know," said Donna, "I don't really care much about golf."

"Hey George," Jerry called across the shop. When a young man behind the sales counter looked up, Jerry motioned him over.

Donna's eyes widened as George neared. She'd never seen this guy around the club before. He was really cute. He was at least six feet tall with thick blonde hair and brown eyes. When he walked up, George smiled at Donna, showing two deep dimples in his cheeks.

"Listen George." Jerry took the opportunity to put an arm around Donna's shoulders. It was all she could do not to shudder. "I'd like you to teach Donna how to play golf. Let's say two or three lessons a week. If you know the golf swing well enough to teach someone else, that'll go a long way to winning that scholar- ship."

George looked surprised, but he recovered quickly and said, "That's great." He turned to Donna, "When would you like to get started?"

Jerry put his free arm around George. "There's no time like the present. Why don't you start with chipping and putting?" He pushed to two young people toward the pro shop door.

Once they were out the door, George turned to Donna, "Well, I guess we're starting today. If that's OK with you?"

Donna shrugged, "Fine with me." A few minutes later they were on the practice putting green, putters in hand. George gave her instructions on how to hold the putter, how to stand and how to stroke the ball smooth- ly. Donna putted several balls; most of them stopping near the hole.

"Not bad," said George. Sure you haven't played be- fore?"

Donna shrugged, "Everybody plays miniature golf." She looked up at the raspy sound of an air-cooled engine. It was Jerry the pro rolling down the club's drive in a bright orange Porsche. "Where's he going?" Donna asked.

"Who knows?" shrugged George. "I wish I had his job. He'll take a two hour lunch and then play golf with some of his buddies all afternoon." George gazed at the receding car as it left the course.

"Look," said Donna, "He's gone and I can tell you'd rather be playing or something. You don't have to give me lessons."

George jerked his gaze back to Donna. "Oh yes I do. He knows that I can't afford to go to Ellington unless I get that golf scholarship. He also knows that if I get it, then I won't be able to work here anymore. So he ties every little piece of crap job to that scholar- ship." He saw Donna's face cloud up. "Uh ... not that teaching you is crap ... I just meant...." He gave her his best, full dimple, apologetic smile.

"Don't worry, I know what you're trying to say." It was impossible to work up any anger at that cute face. "Why does he have such a say in your scholarship?"

"Because the club endows the money, and the board of directors has the last say in who gets what. And the board thinks Jerry's opinion is worth something because he plays golf with them, and because he has a brown nose from keeping it stuck up their butts. And that's why I have to give you lessons, please. I can't give Jerry an excuse to bad mouth me to the board."

Donna smiled, "Well, I guess I'm taking lessons then."

A few days later they were together again. After chip- ping balls onto the putting green for a few minutes the two young people got sodas and spent their remaining time talking. It seemed to Donna that her lesson was looking more like a date.

George sipped his soda and said, "I'd like to play golf at Ellington for four years and then try for the PGA Tour."

"You don't have to go to Ellington to get on the tour do you?"

"No, of course not, but Ellington has lots of rich alumni who like to back pros, and you do have to have a small fortune in order to travel and practice and go to the qualifying school."

"And if you don't make it on the tour?" asked Donna.

"Hey, I'm perfectly serious about college. I'll have a teaching degree when I get out. If I can't make it on the tour I certainly don't want to be a club pro. I might turn out to be like Jerry."

They both laughed at that. Donna realized that she liked this guy. He was smart and had a sense of humor, not to mention that he was tall and good-looking. And unlike her previous boy friend, he didn't seem to feel that everything had to relate to sex. Not, Donna felt, that she would mind if he leaned in that direction. They made a date for the next day. Donna was to come by for her next lesson before she went to work in the dining room.

But when she arrived the next day, George couldn't get away from the shop. Jerry was no where around and the other worker for the shop had called in sick. Donna hung around the shop for a few minutes, but George was too busy with customers and answering the constantly ringing phone to pay her much attention. They resche- duled the lesson and Donna left. She wanted to run back to her room in order to change into her work clothes. She had planned to change at the club after her lesson, but her own room would be more convenient.

Donna pulled her Miata into the huge garage next to Randy and Michelle's house. She walked to the rear of the mansion sized home. There was a door there, not far from her room, where she could enter without walking through the whole house. When Donna rounded the corner of the house she was a bit startled to see Jerry's orange Porsche.

Now what was he doing here in the middle of the day, wondered Donna? Randy faithfully worked until five or six each evening and ... and ... huh oh. Surely not. Surely there was no hanky-panky between Jerry-the-jerk and Michelle.

After entering the door, Donna didn't have to go far to find out. From the sound of voices and the rhythmic squeak of bedsprings, it was pretty obvious that there was someone in her wing of the house. Donna eased past her own room until she could peek into another of the guest bedrooms.

She could see Michelle on her hands and knees in the center of a king-size bed. The pretty brunette was wearing a black leather bustier that was accented with gold studs and rings. The sexy lingerie had half cups revealing generous the mounds of her breasts that jiggled and quivered each time Michelle threw herself back and forth. Straps from those half cups were stretched across her bare shoulders.

Donna leaned over a bit in order to look farther into the room. There she saw a partially naked Jerry holding on to those straps. He was wearing a huge - ten-gallon at least - black cowboy hat with matching cowboy boots and nothing else.

"Yeee haw," whooped Jerry, as he pulled on the straps and thrust an abundant cock past Michelle's bright red pussy lips. Jerry's groin slapped firmly into Michelle's ass, making a counterpoint to the protesting bedsprings.

"Yeah cowboy!" screamed Michelle. "Ride me you big stud! Fuck me with that big cock of yours."

Donna had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. As she crept back down the hall, Donna heard Jerry gasp, "Yes, oh yes baby, I'm gonna empty my six- shooter into your hot cunt." Donna was barely able to make it all the way back to her car before she doubled over in laughter.

No wonder Michelle wasn't interested in having conven- tional sex with her husband. Not while a wild man like Jerry was around to supply some kinky thrills. Donna assumed that Jerry was the "phase" that Michelle claimed she was going through that night she'd over- heard Randy and Michelle talking. Donna hoped, for Randy's sake, that the Jerry-phase would pass quickly.

The next day Donna was back at the pro shop. George emerged with two irons and a bucket of practice balls. "We aren't chipping and putting?" Donna asked.

"I don't think I can teach you any more about chipping and putting," George replied. "It's time we moved on to the full swing."

The driving range at Ellington isn't near the clubhouse so Donna and George jumped into a golf cart and headed down a tree lined cart path that wound its way to the range.

Donna sighed. She liked being with George, but she wasn't in the mood to get all hot and sweaty. At least not by swinging a golf club, that is. Donna pointed to a small track that ran into the woods to their right. "Where does that go?"

George slowed the cart. "It's an access road to a couple of house sites that haven't been developed yet."

Donna grabbed the cart's steering wheel and guided them off the cart path and into the woods. "Let's go see."

George had to latch onto the wheel with both hands to keep them from running into a ditch. "OK," he said. "I guess we can do that." After they'd traveled a hundred yards or so, Randy stopped the cart in an area that had been bulldozed flat for house sites, but now weeds had overgrown the spot.

George shrugged his shoulders, "Alright, I hope you like this little garden spot."

Donna got out of the cart and walked around to George's side. She pulled on his arm until he was standing. Facing him, Donna put her hands on George's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "I'm sure it has its uses," she murmured. Donna tilted her head and half closed her eyes. She didn't know how to telegraph an invitation to a kiss more openly and for a second she thought George was going to reject it.

But then he lowered his face to hers and gave her a peck on the lips. Donna didn't move and George kissed her again, longer and more firmly. George slid his arms around her waist and renewed his kiss, parting his lips and darting his tongue into her mouth.

Donna responded and in a moment the young couple was breathing heavily, their tongues sliding and twisting about one another. George's hands slid down until they were caressing Donna's firm ass.

Donna, in turn, put her arms around George's neck and pulled him close, pressing her tits to his chest. For minutes they stayed that way, Donna worked her leg between George's and slowly ground her thigh into his crotch until George began to pump his hips.

Donna broke off their kiss and took a step back. "Wow," said George, a bit breathlessly.

Donna smiled at him, "You haven't seen wow yet." She grasped the waistband of George's pants with one hand and pulled down his zipper with the other.

"Donna, do you think this is good idea?" George squeak- ed.

Donna reached into his pants. Hmm...George was a briefs kind of guy.

"I mean we're out here in the open and everything."

Donna pulled open the flap of George's briefs and found the hard lump of his cock. Hmmm, Donna thought, it must be doubled up. She tugged on the warm appendage and felt it pop into the open. She looked down. His cock hadn't been doubled up in his pants, it was just so very short.

Donna petted and caressed George's erection. "Oh look," she cooed, "it's so...."

"Don't say..."

"Cute," Donna finished.

"You had to say that, didn't you?"

"Well it is," Donna giggled. It was only three inches long, but as far a Donna's limited experience told her, George's little cock was perfectly formed. "And it seems to be in good working order, too," she said as she continued to stroke his fully erect member using her thumb and forefinger.

Donna pulled George's face to hers and gave him a deep kiss, her tongue flicking around in his mouth in time with her fingers on his cock. She felt his breath on her cheek and his hand as it sought out her breast.

They went on like that for a minute and then George stiffened and Donna felt the hot flecks of cum on her hand. She broke off their kiss and stood back. George had a sort of glassy eyed look. When his eyes finally focused on her George said, "That was nice, I really didn't expect you to do that."

"Unfortunately, too many guys expect things to go exactly that way. You're more special than you know."

"May I return the...uh...favor?" he hesitantly asked.

Donna leaned against the cart and hooked a thumb on the front of her shorts. As she tugged down the front of her shorts she crooked a finger at George and said, "You certainly may."

George gulped, "You'll probably have to give me some hints."

Donna took one of his hands and placed it on her breast. "This hand goes here," she said, smiling sexily into his wide eyes. "And this hand goes down here," she said as she slid George's other hand down her tummy and under the waistband of her panties. "Down just a bit more and ohhhh," Donna whispered. "Maybe we'll get that far next time. Pull your finger back a little. That's it. Feel that? Now you've got my clit. Just rub right there. Mmmm...softer, softer. Yeah, that's it!"

George squeezed and kneaded Donna's breast through her shirt and bra while he kept a steady rhythm flicking across the nub of her clitoris. Donna moaned and ground her hips against George's hand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she chanted. Donna's thighs quivered and George had to steady her as she moaned out her orgasm.

A few minutes later they had cleaned up and straighten- ed up. George looked at his watch and frowned, "As much as I'd like to stay with you all afternoon, I have to get back to the shop."

"Can we do another lesson tomorrow?" asked Donna, with a coquettish smile.

"I think I can squeeze you in," George smiled back, lightly grabbing her firm butt.

For the next two weeks George and Donna saw one another almost every day. Their work schedules kept them apart in the evening, but they made the most of Donna's "lessons".

The time came, though, for Donna to return home. It was the day before she was to leave and Donna was going to see George for her last supposed golf lesson.

She arrived in front of the pro shop to find George, Jerry the pro and another man standing there. When she approached they looked up as if they were waiting on her.

Jerry took her by the elbow and steered her to the stranger. "Donna," said Jerry, "I'd like for you to meet Coach White. He's the golf coach for Ellington."

Donna glanced at George. He looked like someone about to mount the gallows instead of a perfectly fine golfer who should be trying to impress his maybe-to-be coach. Donna turned her attention back to coach White and offered her hand. "So you're the guy who's going to see that George gets a much deserved scholarship."

The coach took her hand and laughed. He was a man in his sixties with mostly gray hair and a full mustache. "We'll see, young lady, we'll see. It's nice to meet you."

Jerry said, "I thought we'd play a few holes today. That'll give the coach a chance to see George play and we'll see how well he's taught you the golf swing."

"Gee, Jerry," Donna shook her head, now she understood why George looked so doomed. "You know, I don't think I have time to actually play. I have to be at work in an hour."

Jerry gave her a shifty smile, "Oh, I called Randy, he said that he'd excuse you for a while. Here," he began to walk toward a cart, "I've put a set of my old clubs on this cart for you to use. You can ride with me while George and Coach White get acquainted."

Donna gave a mental shrug. There didn't seem to be any way out of it, she climbed into the cart and the four- some headed to the first tee.

George was a nervous wreck. Jerry had neglected to tell him that the Ellington golf coach would be here to see him this day. Jerry claimed that he'd forgotten, but George was sure that Jerry wanted him to be un- prepared for the visit. Even this little golf game was a dig by Jerry.

They arrived at the back tees, the ones that would make the hole as long as possible. Jerry jumped out of the cart and teed up a ball. With his choppy, but effec- tive, swing, Jerry sent the ball well over two hundred yards down the fairway.

George felt numb as he emerged from the cart and went through his warm-up swings. He put a ball on a tee and set up. George had played in many competitions and the first tee jitters were nothing new. He took a deep breath, blanked out his conscious mind by focusing his attention on the number on his golf ball and let his body take over. His long, smooth swing put the ball slightly farther out than Jerry's and very nearly in the center of the fairway.

The foursome moved down to the next set of tees. Coach White hit his ball with a slow, but fundamentally sound swing. "Nice shot, Coach," said George, hoping he didn't sound like a suck up.

"Oh, I've played better," said the coach, "but I had some heart problems earlier this summer." The coach was going on about his health as they pulled up to the ladies tee.

George couldn't concentrate on the coach's words. He felt the knot in his stomach tighten when Donna hopped out of her cart and looked at her bag of clubs like someone trying to pick out something palatable from a tray of strange hors d'oeuvres. She glanced over at George and pointed to the driver, raising her eyebrows.

George wrenched a muscle in his neck as he tried to shake his head violently without actually moving it. If she'd just pick out one of the shorter irons, then George could hold out some hope that she might actually move the ball forward. But a driver was the worst, it was the hardest club in the bag to hit.

With a growing sense of doom George watched as Donna awkwardly pushed a tee in the ground with her thumb. He shuddered slightly when it took her three tries to get a ball to balance on top of the tee.

"Need some help?" called out Jerry.

The ball finally decided to stay put. "I've got it now," Donna answered as she grabbed up the driver and took an ungraceful stance.

George put his hand to his face and peeked at Donna from between his fingers. It was all he could do not to moan. Donna took some disjointed practice swings and pushed the hair out of her eyes several times. "Let's do it today, sweetie," said Jerry impatiently. She was stooped over the ball, her feet too close together, the club held incorrectly. Oh God, thought George, she's about to make the both of us look like idiots.

That was when Donna looked up and, while she pushed the hair off her face once more, gave George a wink that only he could see. Suddenly her back straightened, her stance widened, she corrected her hand position on the club.

George's eyebrows rose in surprise as Donna swept the club head back in a smooth arc. When the club head stopped at the end of its back swing Donna's left shoulder was pointed at the ball with her hips turned to the right.

In short, she had a perfect back swing. Then her hips swayed left, her shoulders turned, the club head descended and with a sharp smack the ball arced away from the tee to land near Jerry's ball in the fairway.

"Nice hit," said Coach White as he floored the acceler- ator on the cart and pulled down the cart path with a stunned George by his side.

Donna twirled the club as if it were a baton as she walked back to the cart. She tossed the club into the air, caught it and jammed it back into the golf bag. She was barely back in the cart when Jerry jerked the cart forward.

"That was very cute little girl," said Jerry accusingly.

"What do you mean?" asked Donna, all innocence.

"I mean," he growled, "I don't appreciate being made a fool of. It's obvious that you know how to play. We both know George couldn't have taught you that swing in the last few weeks."

Donna could feel the blood rising up her neck and into her cheeks. "Look, I can't help it if all you men, George and Randy included, assumed I couldn't swing a club. I never said I'd never played. All I said was that I didn't care much for the game."

That was the truth. When she had begun to go with John, she decided that she wasn't about to be one of those girl friends who walked the course with their guys, looking bored, staring into space. So she convinced her father to give her lessons and, spurred on by her determination to share John's passion for golf, she quickly learned the basics. Then, playing round after round with John had honed her skills. Unfortunately, when they broke up, golf's appeal went out the door with him.

"Some excuse," said Jerry sarcastically, "I'll remember this when it comes time to recommend George to the board for his scholarship."

Donna was seething. She watched as Jerry pulled a club from his bag and began to set up for his approach shot. "I suggest that you give George a fair evaluation or I might just have to speak to the board members myself."

Jerry waggled his club, "Tell me, little girl, what would you say to them?"

"How about," Donna lowered her voice and changed to a monotone, "Oh, oh yes baby, I'm gonna empty my six- shooter into your hot cunt."

Jerry lowered his club to the ground and leaned on it. He studied Donna for several seconds. She met his scrutiny with a cool, flat expression. He returned his attention to his ball and shanked it, badly, to the right of the green. Jerry slammed his club back in his bag and plopped himself in his seat. "OK," he said angrily, "what's this blackmail going to cost me."

Donna felt some cold water splash on the fire of her anger. She hadn't considered herself a blackmailer. She took a deep breath and resolved herself. After all Jerry was the one screwing his boss's wife. "Look, you smarmy jerk." There, smarmy, she'd said it. "All I want is a fair break for George, and for Randy, for that matter." She sat quietly for a few seconds and said, "I'll tell you what..."

The next day found Donna and Jerry in his pro shop office. Jerry was talking on the phone, "Yeah babe, I'll meet you at noon. Yes. OK, bye then."

Jerry put down the phone. "Do you really think this situation comedy plot device is actually going to put everything right?"

Donna shrugged, "Michelle's a smart girl. I'm sure she'll go along until she can figure things out. And if she does, then Randy and Michelle save their marriage, and you," she pointed at Jerry, "get to keep your extravagant salary and no one gets hurt." She left Jerry shaking his head as she walked out of his office.

George met her there. He nodded toward Jerry's office. "What was that all about?"

Donna gave him a little smile, "Just tying up some loose ends. Are you still mad at me?"

George said, "I know I didn't say much to you yesterday. I never was mad, things just overwhelmed me." He took a deep breath, "I guess this means we'll be playing a lot of golf together?"

Donna's smile widened, she put her arms around George's waist. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Your mind may not be on your game."

George put his hands on her hips, "I'm going to blame you for that." He tilted his head a bit and kissed her firmly on the lips. "God, I hope that scholarship comes through. I can't imagine going to college without you."

Donna broke their embrace and walked slowly to the shop door. "I'll be at Ellington in two weeks and the first place I visit will be your room.

George waved goodbye as she went out the door, "I can't wait," he called after her.

Donna's next stop was at Randy's office. He looked up as she entered, "I guess you're ready to leave?"

"Yep, all packed. I want to thank you for the room and the job and everything."

Randy made a throw away gesture, "It was nothing. Michelle and I hardly knew you were there. Glad to have you."

"Oh, I'm glad you mentioned Michelle. She gave me this note for you as I left the house."

Randy took the note from Donna's outstretched hand. As he read, Randy's expression turned from one of casual interest to eager anticipation. Just as she'd antici- pated, Randy was so horny that the note's erotic con- tent had kept him from noticing that it was a forgery.

Randy jumped up. "Uh, let me see you to your car. I have to run home."

As Randy hurried them out of the clubhouse and across the parking lot to her car, Donna couldn't resist asking, "What was in that note, an invitation to a nooner?" She knew very well that it was. She'd put the explicit details of a grade A blowjob in that note.

Randy opened the door to Donna's Miata. "Now what would you know about nooners?" He held up his hand, "No, I don't want to know. I'll see you when you come back for school."

Donna fastened her safety belt and started the engine. She turned and looked out the window. Because of her position in the low car, she was looking right at Randy's crotch. She imagined that she could see the outline of his stiffening cock. She reached out, patted Randy on the leg, grazing his penis, and looked up; "You'll be the second person I'll come see."

As she pulled away Donna looked at the handsome figure of her cousin receding in the rear view mirror and thought, if things don't work out with George and Michelle, then Randy might be first one I come to. After all, life was like a golf ball. You never knew which way it was going to bounce.



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