Saturday, October 12
Dear future reader --
Yes, I've been skipping days. No way around that. I'm wildly busy and dead tired when I hit the bed at night. I promise myself I'll get up early in the morning and type something, but then `early in the morning' hits and I'm trying madly to get out the door.
The play -- Mr. Mac has expanded my role a bit, and now I have more lines, more scenes, and less time to think and just flirt with Carlos during drama meetings.
Halloween -- The sister wives have all decided on the theme "Puss-n-Boots" for a booth, mainly because (and this was Maddy's idea) it gives us all excuses to dress up like cats. Randi said she'd wear a plastic sword and a swashbuckling hat. The rest of us will basically look like refugees from a rip-off Playboy Club. We'll do face painting for the kids (yes, paint them to look like cats) and (here's the clincher) give away little glow-in-the-dark cat ear headbands. We submitted that idea for approval, but it sounds like a shoe-in, and yes, there will probably be a half dozen face painting booths cuz it's really popular.
I got up Thursday morning realizing I have absolutely nothing to wear to a golf course. I explained that to Mom on the way to school. She said that Carlos' Dad's club was pretty conservative, and I'd want to wear something like a khaki golf skirt (fingertip length, with built-in shorts underneath), a golf shirt (she'd recommend black), short khaki socks, some pretty tennis shoes, and a white hat with a hole in the back for my growing pony-tail. Mom suggested I also wear a sweater, in case it got chilly. She said she'd pick all that up for me on the way home from dropping me off for school.
We got graded on the camping trip? How did that happen? And no, it wasn't just a participation grade. The teacher/counselors wrote up a small piece in each of our permanent folders, for consideration later when we're all begging for college recommendation letters. Huh...
So Thursday and Friday went like a blur. Mom got me the cute little golf skirt, and I have to admit that if girl-golfers get to dress like this, maybe I'll take up the sport. Does our school have a girls golf team? What are the rules for a trans-girl playing on the girls team? Maybe I don't want to poke the bear on that just yet.
This morning, we arrived at the club right before 10, and Mom dropped me off. Carlos had said we'd be there about 3 hours, and have lunch at the grill, and so Mom said she'd pick me up about 1. This was the closest thing to an actual date I'd had, which was remarkable considering I'd been almost to 3rd base without actually going on what you would call a date. True to his word, Carlos met me at the pro shop, and we walked down the path to the driving range with Carlos carrying his clubs Carlos said driving was the fun part, although we'd also try our hand at putting later.
The driving range had it's own little shop' and Carlos charged two buckets of balls to his dad's account. I said that looked like a lot, and Carlos said we'd burn thru those pretty quickly. We went out to one of the t-spots, and he showed me hw to set up the ball on the t' at the driving range and then gave me a great primer on holding the club, standing, swinging, and all the fundamentals. Then, he pulled me aside, so I wouldn't be in the danger zone, and hit a few balls which went straight and long down the driving range. A couple of old guys in neighboring spots cast admiring glances at his technique. I did too but for other reasons.
Then he motioned for me to come up to the `t'. He said, "You know, I didn't bother to ask you if you're right handed or left."
I said, "Right. Does it matter?"
"Yeah. Lefty's generally need a different set of clubs. The swing is all different."
Then he positioned me at the t', stood behind me, and reached around to help guide my arms thru the swing. Again, the old guys in the neighboring t' boxes looked admiringly at his style. I could feel his woodie firming up and riding against my ass, and I wondered if the old guys realized what was actually happening.
I'll bet they did.
Carlos was right about the two buckets of balls. We ran thru those pretty quickly, and he said we should go spend some time on the putting green. Again, this gave him a good excuse to stand behind me, and gave me a good excuse to rub my ass up against his hardware.
We were going to have lunch at noon, so about 11:15 or so, he said, "Let's go put my clubs up, and I'll show you some secrets about this club." I was intrigued, so we put the clubs in a rack next to the pro shop, and he led me down a hall, past all the catering and ballroom areas, to a small staircase, behind a door near the men's locker room that no one would have noticed if they hadn't been looking for it.
The staircase wound up above the high-ceiling clubhouse and ballrooms to what I could only suppose was the attic. Up there, it opened into a dark hall, and there were three or four doors leading off the hall. I could see that at the end of the hall there was yet another staircase leading down somewhere. At this point, I was like a mouse in a maze, and had lost my bearings in this big old clubhouse.
We opened the first door and went in. It was dark, although there was a little dormer window looking out on the parking lot. Carlos locked the door from the inside, and turned on the light. It looked for all the world like a bedroom, with a little bath off the side and all of the comfort of a very small hotel room. There was even a desk and desk chair, with the connections for a laptop.
"What's this all about?"
Carlos said, "When the clubhouse was renovated a few years ago, some of the members wanted some spend-the-night rooms in case a member was too drunk to drive home or just needed to take a nap or get some business done. In reality, the rooms are largely used by men who need a private, no-questions-asked space for a liaison with, say, their girlfriends. If the door is locked, there is a little red tab on the outside, insuring privacy. The staff comes thru every night and clean any rooms that have been used in the past 24 hours. In short, it's a nice private honey pot space."
I was completely aghast, but in a good way. "How did you find out about this? Does your Dad....?"
"Nah. My Dad is Mr. West Point Straight-as-an-arrow. I found out about it the summer I helped out in the pro shop. Apparently, all the men know about it, and no one asks any questions. Everyone uses these rooms, particularly kids our age. The rooms are most popular on the weekdays, when business guys come by here, and then at night when kids our age bring their dates. That's why I wanted to do this on a Saturday morning. Everyone's actually playing golf on a Saturday morning."
If everything I was hearing was true, I wanted to find some way for my mother to join this club. Now. Immediately. Although, I had Carlos, at least for the time being, and could see myself getting weekly golf lessons. Maybe I could teach him to play tennis, too.
I didn't say a word. I just sat on the bed and motioned him over to where I was sitting. I looked up at his eyes, and he nodded. I was in a perfect position to unzip his khakis and pull them down a bit. He was again wearing loose boxers underneath, and I could reach in and pull out the object of my attention. This was all too wonderful. No one would interrupt. I love my dog, Princess, but this wasn't the time or place to hear her barking down a stair case.
I carefully and gently pulled his cock out of his boxers. It was semi-rigid, and I carefully wrapped my lips around it again, just where they were the past Wednesday evening. He again put his hands on my head, tossing my white golf cap to the bed, and ran his fingers into my hair. Again, he slowly guided my head to bob on his cock, and I was going into a trance again, just enjoying the feel of his cock moving in and out of my mouth. He twitched several times, and I thought maybe this is it' and readied myself for his cum', but he held back. Finally, I could feel him throbbing the way he throbbed in my hand last week before his orgasm. Slowly, I could feel warm ejaculate hitting my mouth. In the `educational videos' I'd seen, different men seem to cum in different ways. Some in hard squirts, and some in just an ooze. His was closer to the latter, but it filled my mouth. Every squirt made me happier and happier. He clutched my head harder, and I thought he was going to try to drive his cock into my throat, but he was gentle about it, and let me have my way with him.
He finished cumming, and I kept him him my mouth, feeling him go soft. As he got softer, I moved closer to him, eventually with his entire cock in my mouth and my chin resting on his balls. I was unconsciously massaging his now-limp cock with my mouth. I finally opened my eyes, and looked up at him staring down at me, with a look of total pleasure on his face.
Carlos pulled out, breathlessly, and reached onto the cabinet for a tissue to dry himself off. I looked up at him, and wiped a small drop of cum off my chin and into my mouth. By that point, he had his cock back in his pants, and was nearly zipped up. I got up from the bed, and he pulled me toward him and hugged me gently but firmly. He reached around, massaged my ass, and I just clutched him tightly.
I went into the adjacent bathroom, peed, and cleaned up my makeup and hair. He reminded me that golf caps were perfectly acceptable for women in the 19th hole grill, so we headed down the other staircase, which dumped out near the pro shop in yet another little hidden hallway, and headed to the grill for lunch. I was on cloud 19' rather than the 19th hole, and just barely touched my cheeseburger and fries. We talked about nothing, and everything, and he asked if I'd like more golf lessons. I told him that I never knew golf and baseball had so much in common! Yes, I told him, I'd love to learn more whenever he was available for lessons'.
Note to self -- I'd heard so many horror stories about girls gagging on the taste of men's cum. Maybe different guys taste differently. His was like overly salty yogurt. I was perfectly contented to have some more.
Mom picked me up at 1. She asked if I had a good time, I just smiled, and told her that I was thinking about taking up golf as a new hobby.