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 ï>¿Ideal Suburbia by Publius68

   Ideal Suburbia Ch.  04

   Our hero discovers a scenic overlook in his own back yard.

   My neighbor Samantha had left my house with a promise to return in the
future and improve upon our performance.  I looked forward to it, but I
also sensed that now that I had encouraged her to escape the celibate
prison of her husband's neglect, she was going to get competitive with him
in the number of lovers department.  I could only hope that she'd find
space in her schedule for at least an occasional return engagement.

   In the following days, I set out to employ all available free time to
get my house up to speed.  There was so much to do.  I followed Samantha's
suggestion and bought my area rugs first.  Laying them out in the main room
of the house gave me a good idea of how much space I needed to fill, and
with what furniture.

   Buying the nice modern sectional I was looking for seemed a promising
chance to add another good story.  The sales girl and I hit it off, and
when we discovered we had similar taste in movies, I asked her out to see
the new superhero movie that had just opened.  It was a pretty good date,
but we parted with closure.  It turned out our interests were at cross
purposes.  She was interested in a long-term relationship.  I was
interested in ravishing her nubile body.  We both had a good time, and each
was flattered by the other's particular interest, but the whole exercise
ended up yielding me only a great piece of furniture.

   As I went about shopping for more furniture, plus equipment and decor, I
also made an effort to get to know the suburban area I now called home.  I
discovered two great pizza joints, one of which delivered to my address.  I
found a cool bakery/cafe that could meet my morning and occasional evening
needs.  I found several decent bars, but none of them had either drinks or
women of sufficient quality to encourage me to make them a regular watering
hole.  Finding such was going to be a long-term project.

   Among my finds, the bakery, Nikki's (Au)Naturel Bakery/Cafe, became the
most regularly valuable to me.  They made good coffee there for mornings
when I was running behind, and I soon found myself swinging by more and
more often as an excuse to also pick up one of their incredible chocolate
eclairs.  The only weird thing about the place was that they had such
terrible employee turnover.  I seldom saw the same kids behind the counter
on more than one or two visits.  The girls all looked vaguely creeped out,
and the guys were always confused.

   I also worked in a swift trip back to San Francisco to call on my big
client back there.  No way I was going to let my company lose their
business just because I wasn't close by anymore.  I spent as much time
schmoozing with our own sales and fulfillment teams back there to make sure
they handled the client the way I wanted, as I did with the clients
themselves.

   Overall, I was really starting to get settled in.

   I also got to learn the joy of home ownership that is repairs.  I
replaced a few light fixtures voluntarily, and replaced the main wax seal
on my master bathroom toilet hastily and involuntarily.  Then several of
the bulbs in my awesome backyard landscape lighting began to fail.  I tried
to be a guy and ignore it, but then the awesome downlight that was placed
high up in the big oak tree in one corner of my yard went out.  Without the
ethereal looking, internally lit oak tree, my backyard at night seemed less
magical and more creepy.  Time to see how many salesmen it took to change
some light bulbs.

   The problem was, I didn't know what kind of bulb was used in the tree.
The three other landscape lights that had burnt out had three different
types of bulb already, and I could just tell that the tree bulb had to be
yet another wattage.  So the next time I had some daylight opportunity, I
threw on some old clothes and got ready to do something I hadn't done since
I was a little kid: Climb a tree.

   The oak was obviously far older than the house, given how high and full
it was, and its branches spread out over the privacy fence to throw shade
onto the backyard of my neighbor who shared the end of the cul de sac with
me, as well as the two houses on the back side.  I had to get my stepladder
to be able to reach a handhold, but I managed to swing up and into the
branches.  It was surprisingly easy to climb once I was in the tree, though
I had to be careful.  The individual branches were not a thick as you might
think for a tree this big, and every time I put my weight on a new branch,
that part of the tree swayed as if blown by a non-existent breeze on that
calm, sunny day.

   I was curious about what kind of homes were behind me, and I was frankly
a little disappointed.  Both were unremarkable, with the dreaded vinyl
siding covering the back and sides of both to save money over the brick,
stone, or stucco that appeared to cover the fronts.  My house had cedar
siding on the back and a flagstone front elevation, I observed smugly to
myself.

   I then turned to check out my next-door neighbor's back yard.  It was
larger than mine, and most of the extra space was taken up by a pool that
was larger as well and the surrounding patio.  I caught my breath when I
was saw that my neighbor was out sunbathing.  She lounged on her back,
wearing sunglasses and a black bikini, and was so remarkably good looking
that I got an almost instant hard-on when I laid eyes on her.  Her legs
were long and sleekly muscled, with firm, tight, tanned skin.  She had
curvy hips and a narrow waist with a flat belly.  She was hardly skinny,
but I could still make out the impression of the edge of her rib cage, and
the ridges of her hip bones.  Her breasts were amazing, thrusting upward
from her chest so prominently and perfectly that I knew right away they had
to be the creation of the best of plastic surgeons.  Like her legs, her
neck was long, and her features were sharp.  Her mouth was wide with thin
lips painted expertly in a maroon gloss.  The bikini bottom was a string
affair, with the straps sweeping up high over her hips, supporting a small
but marginally modest triangle in front.  The top was odd, looking like
some sort of tailored napkin wrapped around her and strapped over and
around her neck.  It could not possibly have provided any support for her
breasts, not that they needed any.

   Unlike most sunbathers, she wasn't reading a book, or listening to
headphones.  She had not one, but two laptops open, on tables to either
side of her chaise.  She also had a smartphone and tablet to hand.  She
swept her gaze back and forth between the computers.  The screen that I
could see looked like it had a bunch of graphs on it, many of which were
visibly updating in real time.  She mostly interacted with the tablet,
scrolling, typing, and reading on it.  After a bit, she leaned excitedly
over to the computer whose screen I could not see and worked on it
feverishly for a bit, and then sat back in the chaise, pumping her fists
and wiggling her hips in some kind of minor victory dance.

   I just clung to the tree, watching her, for some time really.  This
stunning creature lived right next door to me?  It hit me then that she was
the jogger I had seen running in this neighborhood the day my real estate
agent Lee had first shown me my future house.  And now I was watching that
vision of a jogger as she hung out, wearing even less if that was possible,
than she did while running.  I did see a wedding ring on her finger, which
quite frankly sucked, but recent events had reminded me that that was not
always the end of the story...

   I remained quiet, of course.  I could see her pretty well through the
branches, but I doubted she could pick me out in the dark center of the
tree, even if she had been looking.  Nevertheless, I moved to climb a bit
higher, in service of getting a better view of her.  And besides, I still
needed to that that burnt out bulb to replace.  As I climbed higher, I
found myself on her side of the trunk, and the softly swaying branches were
now the ones that hung over her yard.  Oaks are always shedding leaves, and
the movement accelerated this quite a bit.  All of a sudden, there was a
coating of leaves on the surface of her sparkling pool.  She did notice
that, and didn't like it.

   "Fucking leaves," she exclaimed with an angry scowl.  She grabbed her
phone swiftly, stabbed an entry, then spoke with a happy facade.  "Hello?
Denise?  It's Linda Tarlington.  Yes, hi!  How's your sister doing?  That's
great!" she said chattily.  Her voice was kind of high-pitched and chirpy.
A little annoying actually.  It was about time this glorious piece of ass
showed some damned fault.

   "Denise, my pool is full of the darned leaves.  Yes, again already.  I
need Danny to come out before the regular cleaning.  When can you schedule
him?  Wait, he is in the office now?  Please, please send him over!  You
know how cranky I get when my pool isn't just right." She waited for a
moment, her expression melding from a scowl to some form of anticipation.
"Fifteen minutes?!?  Oh, that's great.  Tell him I'll owe him big time. 
Huh?  Yes, I owe you one too!  Bye." She laughed and put down the phone.

   I shook my head.  A few leaves in her pool and she calls a maintenance
company?  Add high maintenance to her chirpy voice in the faults list.  She
quickly started to work on one laptop, then the other, and soon had both
closed and carried in the house.  She came back out, brushing her long
black hair.  She stood by her chaise and tugged on and inspected her
bikini. This gave me a new set of angles to inspect her as well!  And to be
honest, it made it hard for me not to tug on myself.  Instead, I turned to
climb further into the tree to find the burnt out light, moving slowly and
quietly to make sure I was not discovered.  The light was not easy to get
to, nor was it easy to get at the bulb once I reached the fixture.  I had
accomplished both at last, and was beginning to descend when I heard my
neighbor's doorbell ring.  She jumped a little then pranced into her house.
Curiously, I waited to see the pool guy.

   In matter of moments, Linda returned with a very handsome dude who
looked even younger than me.  He was shorter than her, barely five and a
half feet tall, but that was his only damned flaw.  He had wavy,
sandy-brown hair with naturally bleached highlights, and a bright smile
full of large, perfectly white, straight teeth.  He wore slightly loose red
trunks that were much shorter than most guys choose to wear these days. 
The shorts revealed deeply tanned and muscular legs.  His t-shirt with a
logo for Glistening Waters Pool Service was loose enough to look like he
wasn't showing off, but tight enough to well advertise a muscular chest and
flat stomach that betrayed a lot of time in the gym, working out for
strength and athletic prowess, but not bulk.  He observed that the pool
didn't look too terribly bad, since the leaf fall was pretty fresh.  "I'll
just get to it then, Linda!  Won't be long," he reassured her.  He kicked
off his shoes and pulled his t-shirt off over his head much slower than was
strictly necessary, though from her expression, Linda didn't agree with me
about the show.  Yep, the guy worked out.  And he obviously spent a lot of
his working day with no shirt, as his tan was as burnished as Linda's.  He
grabbed the cleaning tools and headed for the stairs into the pool to begin
wading around, cleaning thoroughly.

   "I was just going to sunbathe, Danny.  Hope you don't mind," she replied
and turned toward her chaise.  He paused and his gaze followed her.  She
reached behind her back, loosened her bikini top and pulled it off over her
head!  Those tits were just as amazing as I had imagined.  They bounced
with each step she took.  And they had perfectly round, rosy aureoles, with
nipples that were visibly, even from my vantage point, perked up.  She
stood beside the chaise and slid her bottoms off as well.  Her ass was just
a perfect as the rest of her, rounded, buoyant, and utterly smooth.  She
slid down on the chaise and started rubbing lotion over her entire body.

   I was transfixed, both by the view and by the scenario playing out
before me.  I'm not often jealous of other guys, but I made an exception
with Danny.  He was ten times closer to that vision, and had no branches
waving around in his sight lines.  I wished I owned binoculars.

   Danny made short work of the pool, even with the job made more difficult
by the fact that his eyes kept straying from his task.  When done, he
walked out of the pool, water sluicing off his muscles.  His red swim
trunks plastered soggily against him and even as baggy as they were, they
could not hid a distinct bulge within that I could see all the way up in
the tree.  He put the tools in the rack and walked straight over to Linda,
who was writing out a check.

   "Here you go, Danny," she said, setting the check down on the table
beside her...  the side away from Danny.  She rolled over on her side and
propped herself up as he reached her.  "You got here so fast, and did such
a good job, I think you deserve a special tip today."

   "Thank you, Linda!" he replied quietly as she reached out and tugged his
trunks off him and to the concrete patio!  Damn.  Not only was this kid
built, his swiftly hardening cock was as big as mine, though with a
distinct curve to it.  Whether this was going to be a 'special' tip or not
seemed unclear to me, for Danny sure seemed to be unsurprised to find his
client grabbing his cock with intent.  Linda stroked its rigid length with
her fingers, then leaned in to slurp it into her mouth.  Her head turned
and rolled as she suckled noisily on his head.  She licked at his shaft,
then licked and sucked on his balls as well.  Then she straightened up and
began to slide his cock all over and in between her perfectly shaped and
sized tits, teasing her own nipples with the head.  She let her head loll
back and her eyes seemed to close behind her dark glasses as she reveled in
the feel of rubbing his cock across her chest.  His hands found their way
to her boobs as well, cupping and massaging them.  They each toyed with the
other like this for some time.  It was one fucking hell of a show.

   Danny pressed her tits together around his scimitar-like cock and began
to thrust his hips.  But she straightened up and began to suck on him once
more instead, bobbing her head more eagerly now.  Linda didn't blow him for
long, however.  When he began to groan in pleasure, she popped him free of
her mouth and looked up.  "As I said, I'm feeling like a special tip today,
Danny," she smiled.  She reached out and pulled him down onto the chaise
atop her.  He bent to suck on her erect nipples, first one, then the other.
Linda toyed with his ass for a bit, enjoying his attentions, before she
pulled him in between her legs.

   "Oh, we really ARE going for a special tip today," Danny chuckled
happily.  He obviously felt her need and slid his fat cock against her, and
then into her.  Both sighed in satisfaction at his entry.

   He tried to go slow, but soon I was watching a frenzied pounding, with
him grunting and her quietly urging him on.  His mouth locked on hers and
his left hand fumbled for a breast, fondling it eagerly as he thrusted. 
Linda had broken out in a sweat and soon was writing happily beneath Danny
as he worked, working much harder than when he was cleaning the pool.

   He suddenly gasped and I could see in Linda's face that she could feel
his cum spurting inside her.  She gasped loudly as he shuddered to a halt.
"Don't leave me hanging, Danny," she begged.  He manfully resumed his
thrusts and in short order Linda's hands were raking his ass cheeks as she
bucked beneath him in ecstasy.  Now they both collapsed, exhausted.  He
finally propped himself up over her, his cock still buried inside her. 
"Gee, thanks for the tip, Mrs.  Tarlington!" he said brightly, imitating a
50's sitcom kid.

   Linda swatted his ass, and pushed him off of her.  "You have other
customers to get to, I'm sure, Danny," she said with mock sternness.  "And
I cannot do my tanning with your lovely muscled body draped on top of me!"
She grabbed the check and handed it to him after he pulled on his shorts.
He thanked her again, genuinely but almost casually this time, grabbed his
shirt, and let himself out.

   Linda watched him go and writhed a little on her chaise after he left,
but she was clearly spent.

   Her phone rang and she picked up, grabbing her suit and rising to walk
indoors.  "Hey honey!  How was your day?  Are you in Phoenix yet?"

   "What do you mean, you are still stuck in Houston?  What happened?" she
exclaimed with genuine sympathy in her voice as she entered her house.  And
just like that, she was gone.

   I climbed down carefully, drenched in sweat myself.  When I got to the
bottom, I looked at the blessedly burnt-out bulb in my hand.  My cock
throbbed in my pants.  Time for a cold shower?  Nah.  It would take a
bucket of ice water to make this go away.  Instead I changed clothes and
headed out.  First to Home Depot, then probably to that strip club.  I
needed a sure thing.



   Ideal Suburbia Ch.  05

   An unexpected cooking class at the bakery.

   It was a Friday afternoon at the office.  My paperwork was all done (for
once), and I was killing a little time in the lobby before heading home for
the weekend.  I was talking to a co-worker named Wendy, who worked in HR.
She was pleasant enough to look at, but it had been clear from the start
that there was no chemistry between us.  This was just as well, considering
our company's no shit, serious as a heart attack prohibition on anything
between co-workers.

   As we stood, chatting about the total cock-up in Production that week, a
cock-up that had us both glad we were not responsible, the owner Cathy came
out of the executive wing where her office was located.  She saw us both
and moved to swing by and say hello.  I always paid close attention when
Cathy was around, partly because she held my professional future in her
hands, partly because she had a forceful, driven personality that made her
such a successful entrepreneur at such a young age, and partly because she
had an absolutely banging figure and always dressed nominally
professionally, but with an undeniably sexy undertone.  And she told great
dirty jokes sometimes.

   Today she had already changed out of her suit before leaving work, and
was sporting a trim pink golf skirt that showcased her long, enchanting
legs extravagantly, and a black Lacoste golf shirt with all the buttons
open.  She spun a long club with a fat head in her fingers.  "I've got time
for nine holes this evening!" she said brightly.  "After a week of
metaphorically busting Production's balls, I want to go hit some for real."
She handed her club to me for some reason.  "I just got my new driver in
the mail today.  What do you think?"

   "Uh, it's big?" I said uncertainly.  "Is it some kind of special club?"

   "Wait, you don't golf?" both Wendy and Cathy asked at the same time,
both incredulously.

   "Never learned," I shrugged

   Cathy snatched her prized new bashy thing back from me as if I was gong
to hurt it.  "How can you possibly expect to make it long term in sales if
you don't play golf, and well enough to convincingly lose to clients at
that?" she demanded.  I demurred that I was doing alright so far.  "You
cannot take everybody to strip clubs," Cathy snarked.  Wendy's eyes went
wide and Cathy laughed at her, "Don't ask!"

   "In all seriousness, I want you to learn to golf," Cathy said, suddenly
wearing her mentor face.  "I'm a member at Winding Hills which is where I'm
heading.  I'm going to set you up with guest privileges there.  And set up
some lessons for you too.  Probably with Charlie.  You'll like Charlie."

   "Winding Hills?" asked Wendy.  "That's way out on the north side.  No
wonder you only have time for nine holes!  Why did you join that club?"

   "In case you haven't noticed," Cathy grumped, "there is no country club
anywhere on this side of town.  It's a Need." Since Winding Hills
apparently was way the hell and gone away, she needed to get moving.  Wendy
and I trailed out toward the parking lot in her wake.

   I drove grumpily down the highway toward my home.  As far as I was
concerned, golf was nothing but a giant time-suck.  And now I had to take
up this giant time-suck, and do it with the added joy of a 45 minute drive
each way.

   I had no real plans for the evening, other than sitting by my pool and
binging the first three or four episodes of the new Netflix series with all
the blood and boobs.  I decided to stop on the way at Nikki's (Au)Naturel
Bakery/Cafe, the best little food place I had found in the town center near
my house.  I'd get one of their awesome eclairs to soften the blow of the
whole golf thing and pick up one of the pre-made, finish-at-home dinners
that they sold.

   When I parked and jumped out of my car, I saw that there was a Help
Wanted sign in the window.  I had observed in the past that the only
problem the place had was employee turnover, but this was the first time
I'd seen a sign asking for applicants.  The bell rang as I entered the
door. It was mostly a breakfast and lunch joint, and I got there just
before the posted closing time.  The place was devoid of customers.  Devoid
of staff, too.  There were none of the usual confused or irritated looking
kids behind the counter.

   A deeply alto voice came from the back.  "I'll be right out," whoever
she was hollered, her friendly tone underlaid with a tinge of irritation.
The swinging door to the kitchen banged open and my eyes about fell out of
my head.

   The woman who swept out, brushing flour from her hands, wore a chef's
hat, heavy green kitchen crocs, and a chocolate and flour covered white bib
apron of about knee length that had "Nikki" embroidered on it.  And not a
damned stitch beyond that.

   She was middling tall, a few inches short of my height, with a
voluptuous figure.  Chef's tend to either be fat or gym rats, and Nikki
here tended definitely toward the latter.  Her hips were rounded but not at
all lumpy, and her waist was strong, but just thin enough to provide an
enticing contrast with those hips.  Her bare shoulders were broad and
smooth.  They and her arms were sleek, moderately toned, and spattered with
as much chocolate, flour and other baking ingredients as her apron.

   Her magnificent, bounteous breasts brought new meaning to the phrase
'barely contained' when it came to the bib of the apron.  They swelled up
above the top the apron, forming eye-catching cleavage, cleavage that had
to compete with the ample side-boob to either side.  Despite their size,
they were clearly unusually firm as they pressed the apron well away from
her body.

   When Nikki turned to grab a pad of paper, I was treated to additional
shocking sights.  The apron wrapped barely half-way around her hips,
leaving her hard, muscular ass completely exposed (and underwear-free). 
She turned back to me and my mind whirled, taking all this vision in.

   "I said, is this your first time coming in?" her deep voice cut into my
consciousness.

   "No, uh, no," I recovered quickly, "I was just wondering where any of
the usual staff was."

   Nikki made a face.  It took until then for me to realize that she had a
face, I think.  It was pretty enough, in a strong, stern sort of way,
enlivened by a pair of limpid dark eyes with dark, naturally lush lashes.
"I have never been able to keep staff since I opened," she said, "and it's
gotten worse and worse.  I'm down to two employees right now, and they both
have to leave at five, meaning I have to take care of customers and make
tomorrow's eclairs at the same time."

   "Speaking of eclairs," I said, my sweet tooth asserting itself.  I
looked into the main case, and couldn't see any.

   "Sorry!  The Rotary Club bought me out for their meeting at lunchtime."

   "Damn!  I'll just take one of your Chicken Marsala setups then." I said.
"I don't suppose you have any eclairs resting in back?" I asked hopefully.

   "I'm just getting started.  It's gong to be a long night," Nikki replied
glumly.

   "Want any help?" I blurted out, jokingly.

   She just looked at me for a moment.  "Actually, a second set of hands,
even unskilled, would save my evening.  How's free eclairs for a month if
you're serious?"

   I wondered briefly if I wouldn't be more of a disaster than help if I
wasn't able to keep my eyes on the work instead of on this enchantingly
bizarre woman.  But I could not resist.  I was suddenly both horny and
burning with curiosity, in addition to still craving eclairs.  "I was sort
of kidding, to be honest, but you know what, why not?  I have no plans this
evening.  A working cooking class sounds educational."

   Nikki flashed me a relieved smile, turned off the Open sign, and waved
me to follow her into the back.  It was more cramped than I expected,
especially with the huge wooden-surfaced working table in the center.  She
grabbed an apron and started to hand it to me, but stopped.  She looked at
my business suit.  "Look, this gets messy, as you can see," she said
concernedly, indicating the detritus all over her and her apron.  This just
gave me an excuse to stare at her some more.  "I'm worried about that nice
suit."

   "I'm a nudist of course," she continued blasÃ(C)ly as if you ran into
nudists out in the regular world all the time.  "I'm sure you are not, but
I think you ought to consider dressing like me if you don't want a huge
laundry bill." My mind boggled yet again.  There was genuinely not a trace
of come-on in her voice or her eyes.  The whole situation was crazed.  Oh
well.  In for penny, in for a pound.  I took the apron.

   I loosened my tie while my mind raced.  How was I going to get naked and
into this apron without her seeing my currently raging erection, which at
this rate would probably continue to rage all evening.  I asked about a
closet , and she pointed toward the side.  I stepped over and opened it,
glad it let me keep my back to her as I stripped and hung my clothes on a
peg.  I pulled on the apron and tied it behind me, my ass on display
similarly to hers.  I borrowed a spare pair of kitchen clogs and turned
around, smiling brightly.  "I'm all yours to command," I said.

   What followed was a breakneck course in making eclairs.  First, she set
me to piping the eclairs onto large baking sheets, admonishing me to make
them completely uniform.  It took me a bit to get the hang of that, but get
it I did, while she kept making more chou paste and reloading the piping
bags for me.  Nikki kept looking over at me, watching me work like a hawk.
I never saw any sign that she might be looking at me to check out my bare
ass, and I sighed, contenting myself with checking out hers.

   When the piping was all done, I had flecks of chou paste all over the
apron and all over the parts of my front that were uncovered.  We put half
the baking trays in the big oven, and heaved a deep breath.  Then we set to
making the cream filling.  Nikki made it in small batches for best results,
and to accommodate her various flavors beyond the classic plain cream.  Her
signature filling was a kicking good banana cream that was my usual
purchase.  As I was making a mess out of a batch of the basic cream, Nikki
picked up a banana and waved it at me.  "Want to mash the bananas, or do
you want me to handle this?" she asked.

   Was that a dirty joke?

   "I'm making a big enough mess as it is with this," I replied, wiping
egg-sugar mix on my apron.  "You handle the banana cream." I left just an
infinitesimal pause after "banana".

   We got the cream all into the chiller, then swapped out the eclairs from
the oven so the second batch could bake.  Nikki wiped the back of her hand
across her forehead, rubbing away the sweat, but leaving a smear of kiwi
cream in its place.  "Okay!  I have the chocolate in the tempering machine
already, so we have time for a break.  Want a glass of wine?"

   "Got anything stronger?" I countered.

   "Actually," she mused.  "How about some twelve year-old rum?  I sneak
just a touch into the carrot cakes." She went to a cabinet and brought out
one of the several bottles of rum she had in inventory.  She grabbed two
jars and put a few cubes of ice in each, followed by a fairly hearty
portion of rum.  We toasted and sipped slowly while the eclairs baked.  We
finished shortly before they timer was up and I reached for the bottle to
offer her a refill.  "No, please!" she waved it off.  "I usually only drink
wine, and this rum is strong."

   I shrugged and poured myself a splash more.  "Well, if you are going
to," she said, holding out her glass as well, "might as well hit me too,
but about half what you poured yourself, please!" We clinked glasses again
and she slid the whole pour down her throat.

   The timer buzzed, and Nikki stretched, turning toward the oven.  I
recommend the sight of Nikki stretching her arms over her head, while
wearing nothing but an apron.  The process does attractive things to those
large melons of hers.  I further recommend watching her turn away from you.

   But my cock, which had calmed down for a while, was beginning to harden
up again, and this was a problem.  When fully erect, it pointed up straight
up and didn't make much of an impression against the stiff, thick fabric of
the apron.  But right then, at about half chub or more, it wanted to swing
around straight out from my body, and it was leaving a quite noticeable
tent-pole.  As Nikki busied herself pulling trays out of the oven, she had
to have seen it, if she'd been paying any attention.  Had she?  At any
rate, the problem quickly resolved itself, as all those side views of her
working, with that round ass sticking out and so much extensive, dynamic
side-boob going on, my cock fully snapped to and made less of a visual
impression on the apron, though a more significant impression on my own
headspace.

   Injecting the cream into the eclairs was another tricky task, but I got
the hang of it relatively quickly.  Nikki of course was doing three for
every one I did, but I was still reducing her work load.  By the time we
were done, my hands were coated in a sticky sheen, as was a lot of the rest
of me where it had either dripped, or I had wiped it off.  Though she was
much better than I, Nikki had her share of sticky patches too.

   Finally, we had to apply the chocolate on top.  Most bakeries I knew
spread or dipped a solid streak along the top of eclairs, but Nikki chose
to pipe the tempered chocolate in a compact squiggle all along the length.
It used less chocolate, but took more time.  And made a bigger mess.

   At last, we were done.  The trays of eclairs were set in racks along one
wall, and the huge wooden work surface in the center of the room was a
Jackson Pollack painting in chocolate, flour, chou paste, powdered sugar,
and cream.

   Nikki dragged the back of her hand along her neck and smiled happily as
she surveyed the wreckage.  "Well, it's a mess, that's for sure," she
pondered.  "But we are done hours ahead of where I'd be without your help!
Thank you so much."

   "No, thank you!  It has been an incredible, crazy, gorgeous learning
experience.  It's been a gas, really." I replied, surveying the wreckage of
the kitchen.  "I'm afraid my learning process has translated into a giant
mess, though."

   Nikki laughed easily.  "Nah, it is always close to this.  You showed a
nice touch, actually."

   "Well," I said quietly, "Lots of people have told me that I'm good with
my hands..."

   Nikki arched an eyebrow at that, and turned away to grab the plate of
rejected eclairs.  Did she wiggle that tasty ass when she did so?  The
rejects were mostly my work.  Most were just too small or too large to look
right in the case beside the perfect ones.  A few had ugly chocolate
swizzling on top.  And a couple I had overdone the cream filling and blown
out the ends.  One of the biggest splotches of cream on my apron (right
above my groin, dammit) had been the result of the second such blow out.

   "This was a hell of a lot of work to get that eclair that you wanted,"
said Nikki, leaning companionably on the messy table, "but here you go!"

   I picked up one of the under-sized eclairs and took a bite.  The soft,
light pastry was perfect as I sank my teeth into it.  Chocolate smeared
over my lips.  And I felt a gush of banana cream filling flow deliciously
into my mouth.  It was scrumptious.  And it gave me an idea.

   I looked at the tray and selected the biggest oversized pastry.  This
eclair had been an early, over-enthusiastic effort on my part and it was
two inches longer than it should have been, and thicker too.  I hoped it
was fully baked inside.  "You deserve one too!" I said brightly, picking up
the eclair.  I leaned forward and extended it toward Nikki's face to feed
it to her. e She looked momentarily taken aback as that big eclair came at
her face, but she quickly smiled, leaned forward and nipped at the end of
it delicately.  "I've got to watch my figure!" she said after the small
bite.

   "Your figure is...  your figure is fine!" I said firmly, keeping the
eclair extended toward her face.  "After all this work, you deserve the
fruits of your labors."

   Nikki looked at me speculatively for almost too long.  Then her eyes
sparkled as she leaned toward the eclair and opened her mouth wide.  I
slowly and deliberately slid the eclair into her mouth just bit further
than would have made for a good bite.  Nikki closed her lips around the
chocolate-covered pastry and bit.  The amount of cream in this big example
was copious and I could see that it exploded inside her mouth.  She tilted
her head back just a fraction in response.  Cream flowed out of the end I
still held and plopped down onto her chest.  The apron caught a little, but
the rest splashed over the bare curves of her upper breasts or sank into
the depths of her impressive cleavage.  There was too much cream in her
mouth as well, and a generous glob escaped her now chocolate-coated lips to
drip down her chin.  My cock simply ached as I took in this, even better
than I expected, result.

   Nikki's messy lips smiled as she chewed the double bite of eclair and
made a show of swallowing.  "And this," she said, making no move to clean
any of the mess, "is why we don't make them that large." She took the
eclair from my bemused grasp and took another messy bite, then set it down.
After swallowing ostentatiously yet again, her licked her lips.  Her long
and agile tongue swept around her mouth, licking up chocolate, crumbs, and
cream alike in slow sweeps.  Then she raised her hand with her fingers
outstretched.  With first one finger, then the next, she slowly wiped the
splurges of cream that were hanging from her chin and jaw, and then
deliberately sucking each gloppy finger clean.  I was intensely jealous of
those fingers.  "But yes," she said when finished, "this is a good batch."

   I could not help but openly stare at her, especially the cream-spattered
expanse of her exposed upper curves, and most especially the drips and
smears that sank down out of sight into her cleavage.  She obviously saw me
staring and she spread her arms wide, looking down at her chest.  "Wow, I
really am a mess," she said, as if surprised to discover her chest was
covered in sticky goo.  She wiped at the edges of spray on one side and
sucked her finger clean again.  She looked back up at me.  "Think you could
help?"

   My brain almost skipped a track.  Things were suddenly going much
better, much faster than I had hoped for.  I almost did the stupid thing
and pick up a towel to give her, but stunned or no, I'm not that stupid. 
Instead, I reached out a finger and swept it across the warm, firm flesh of
her breast where it swelled above the apron, wiping a section clear.  Then
I slowly and happily licked my finger clean.  Nikki quivered slightly at my
touch, but kept her chest thrust out toward me.  I reached to wipe another
section softly.  As I did so, Nikki reached out and wiped up some of the
chocolate I had gotten smeared on myself around my cheek and mouth.  My
lips involuntarily cupped her finger tip in something that wasn't quite a
kiss and wasn't quite a suck.  She wiped more chocolate from my face and
pulled her fingers back to her own mouth, inserting them and sucking
deeply.

   My gaze was riveted on this deliberate display, and I wasn't watching
what my hand was doing as I continued wiping her breasts.  I got my fingers
caught in the strap that wrapped around the back of her neck to hold up the
bib of the apron.  Startled, I pulled my hand back away and uttered a
quick, "Sorry!"

   Nikki just looked down at her still messy chest and mused, "Fat lot of
good this apron did today to keep me clean.  And now it is in the way of
getting me cleaned up." She reached behind her head and tugged upward on
the apron strap, pulling it over her head and letting the strap and bib of
the apron drop to hang down at her waist.

   They really were amazing breasts.  Easily the size of large grapefruit,
they were round, smooth, and remarkably buoyant for their size, swelling
richly before me.  Her aureoles were almost pink, oval, and just a bit
puffy.  Her nipples are large, meaty, and as swollen, hard, and erect as I
was.  A lot of cream had run down those swelling mounds, especially between
them.  Most had smeared itself along those deep inner curves, but some had
run clean past her tits to drizzle down her hard, smooth belly.

   Nikki looked down at her chest thoughtfully.  "It really is a huge mess,
isn't it?" she asked rhetorically.

   "A huge, gorgeous mess," I said to myself, but out loud.  I reached out
to swipe another finger's worth of cream for a soft curve, and added to
her, "But it is going take a lot to get you clean.  I've got an idea to
speed it up." I then took a literal and metaphorical plunge and leaned it
lick the inner curves of those delicious mounds.  Nikki caught her breath
as I bathed her cleavage with my tongue.  I reflected as I licked that her
tits were both literally and metaphorically delicious.  I expanded my oral
cleaning services across the expanse of her breasts and I was unable to
restrain myself from cupping them with my hands as I went.  Nikki sighed as
I worked.

   Her nipples were actually quite clean, but I decided that they needed my
attention as well.  I clasped my lips over first one nipple, then the
other, sucking greedily and lashing those big, erect nipples with my
tongue. My fingers sank into the firm flesh of her boobs as I worked and I
was dimly aware that either her body or my hands were trembling as I
'cleaned'.  At last I came up for air, forgetting somehow to let go of
those mounds as I looked at her.

   Nikki looked back at me, apparently content with where my hands were as
well.  "You are a mess, too." She declared.  Then, my hands still glued to
her tits, she leaned forward against me, reaching around behind and untied
my apron.  Then she grabbed the upper strap, lifted it over my head and
tossed it aside, leaving me naked and with a huge erection pointing right
at her.  Her eyes widened for several seconds when it made its appearance
from behind the apron, but then she resumed her plan.  She pulled one of my
hands from her breast and looked over its chocolate and choux-encrusted
surface.  She lifted it and began to lick the palm and back clean.  My
fingers were already clean, but she decided that each finger needed to be
sucked clean individually, with plenty of wet tongue for each
suction-fulled cleaning.  My other hand had remained in place, caressing
her breast and teasing at the nipple.  Nikki chose not to clean that hand,
apparently liking it just where it was, and instead leaned over to lick my
shoulders and chest clean of the mostly chocolate mess there.  She was
thorough and I loved it.  At last she leaned back to inspect my chest
appreciatively.  Then she reached out and grabbed a squeeze bottle of the
chocolate and squirted my left nipple with it!

   "I thought I missed a spot," she laughed and leant in to lick and tease
my nipple.  I groaned and returned my grasp to both her boobs.  She pulled
her mouth off my nipple with an audible pop.

   "Nice trick," I said drily.  "I like what you pulled there."

   She looked me dead in the eye and replied, "If you liked what I did
there, you are going to love this."

   With that, she sank to her knees before me, took my erection in her hand
and decorated it with the chocolate squeeze bottle just like one of her
eclairs.  She knelt there for a moment, gazing at my cock, stroking the
un-decorated underside of it.  With a deep breath, she leaned in and sucked
the head into her mouth.  Her tongue lashed around me inside her mouth,
tasting me and the chocolate melded together.  She bobbed her head several
times, squeegeeing the shaft.  Then she released me from her mouth and
began to lick down my length, sweeping the chocolate from my skin.  When I
was clean, she hastily drizzled some more just on the head, coating it.

   The blowjob immediately resumed, and I smiled as I felt her swallowing
the chocolate she sucked off of me.  I was immediately groaning and begging
her to continue, and she enthusiastically complied.  I was already on the
ragged edge from staring at her body as we worked for the last couple of
hours, and I felt an orgasm rising swiftly in me.  "More cream filling...
coming..." I gasped in warning.  Nikki just clamped her lips harder around
the top few inches of my cock, bobbing up and down as her hand stroked me
in unison.  My knees nearly buckled as I felt a warm copious flow shoot up
my shaft and into her mouth.  My whole body shivered as I came and Nikki
gulped down my offering.  She looked up at me and swallowed, but just like
with the eclair, some of the flow had escaped her lips.  She smiled as she
wiped her chin and sucked the escaped cum back off her fingers.  She rose,
took a gulp of melted ice water from her rum jar, and kissed me deeply, our
naked chests pressing together.  "Everything you make tastes good," she
breathed.

   "Likewise, I'm sure," I replied, lifting her to sit on the edge of the
work surface.  I kissed her again as I reached around behind her and undid
her apron tie, pulling the garment off her and at last got a full look at
my glorious nudist.  I was a bit surprised to see that she was utterly and
totally shaven, or more probably waxed.  I had thought nudists went in for
the natural look.  I bent before her and spread her knees, fingers almost
involuntarily tracing the smooth, bare contours around her vagina. 
"Customers don't like pubic hair in their cupcakes," she observed drily at
my interest.

   I considered coating that hairless confine with cream or chocolate
myself, but my interest was less in the role-play right now than it was in
burying my face between her legs, tasting her in turn, and making her come
as hard and as happily as I just had.

   Indeed, everything she made did taste great.

   I lapped eagerly at her labia, reaching up and spreading them with my
fingers.  My tongue delved inside her, drawing gasps and moans form Nikki.
First my fingers, then my tongue swept across her swollen clitoris, and I
lashed at it relentlessly as her hips rolled and she threw back her head
and cried out happily.  She grasped the back of my head and pushed my face
against her.  My tongue backed off from her clit and delved deeper inside
her once more.  Her breath grew increasingly shallow and her cries louder
as I ratcheted up my attentions.  At last she collapsed backward with her
back on the work table and her arms stretched wide.  I too a moment to
appreciate the view of her breasts that this afforded me, but she cried
out, "Please!  Now!  More!"

   I swept my tongue out of her depths and swirled it against her clit once
more, faster and faster.  Her hips were now thrashing about on the table
and with the loudest cry yet, they thrust up against my face and I felt
wave after wave of orgasm crash through her body.  I kept licking her
relentlessly, drawing smaller follow-on waves, until she pushed me away
finally and gasped for quarter.  I leaned over her as she lay, splayed out
spectacularly on the wooden surface, and kissed her.

   We enjoyed crossing lips for a good while, but then Nikki made to get
up. I pushed her back down gently.  While delving within Nikki, my erection
had recovered and was requesting an encore.  I climbed up on the sturdy
work surface and straddled Nikki's abdomen.  I watched as she stared at my
waving cock.  "That dough rises quickly," she observed, reaching out to
clasp and knead said dough.

   "He's a real go-getter," I laughed.  I grabbed the piping bag of banana
cream filling and began to fill the cavern between Nikki's upward thrusting
breasts, smearing them completely.  But instead bending to lick them clean
this time, I slid forward, letting my hard-on nestle into the warm sticky
confines between her tits.  Nikki murmured in approval as I did this and
still holding onto my cock, began to rub it all over her mammaries,
spreading the glorious, sticky mess.  After some time of mutual enjoyment
of this, Nikki pressed me down firmly between her mounds and pressed them
together around my cock.  I immediately began to thrust in and out of that
deep, warm, very sticky enclosure atop her.  I leaned forward to brace
myself on outstretched arms to either side of her and drove harder.

   Suddenly, she released her breasts and my cock popped free.  Nikki
leaned forward and licked at my cock, sucking swiftly on it for some
gloriously indistinct time.  With a gasp, she lay back and pushed me back
between her tits.  As I resumed fucking them, Nikki groaned, "This feels so
good, but don't you dare cum!  I've got more for you to do." I reassured
her that I would restrain myself.

   It wasn't easy.  They were amazing tits.

   When I dared no more, I ceased my thrusting and sat up, my dick still
rising atop her breasts but no longer snuggling between them.  I looked
down at her and at that view and smiled.  Idly, I slid my hands to her
shoulders to massage them gently.  "Wow!" I said, "Your shoulders are full
of knots."

   "Occupational hazard," Nikki replied languidly.  "You get used to it
from all that kneading and chopping."

   "Not today," I replied firmly, and commanded her, "Roll over."

   She made an approving noise and rolled over onto her belly, sliding up
all the way onto the work surface as she did so.  I smiled at the perfect
buttprint she left in the flour and sugar coating the table.  Then I smiled
more at the sight of her delicious back and backside, coated in sugar and
other delicious baking shrapnel, splayed before me on the table.  I
straddled her again, and began to massage her shoulders and neck.

   I took a massage class back in college, where I had discovered that as I
had hoped, a good massage was often an excellent route to a woman's heart,
as well as other regions.  I also found that I rather enjoyed the zen
feeling of working knots out of tired muscles.  I worked slowly and
effortlessly on Nikki, letting my energy rebuild for what Nikki and I both
clearly intended to do to each other shortly.  I could wait.

   The hell I could.  My cock hungered for her.  I began to slide downward,
working between her shoulder blades, then lower.  Soon I was in a position
where my cock rested against her backside, shaft running along the cleavage
between her glutes.  I began to slide it ever so slightly back and forth,
enjoying the firm, tight feel of her flesh against me.  Nikki began to
squirm beneath me and observed drily, "I'm beginning to lose interest in
this massage..."

   So was I.  I crabbed backward abruptly and slid my cock down between her
thighs, pressing it back up against her ctotch.  It was wet and inviting,
and I let myself slide within her.  She shuddered as my girth filled her.
"I swear your cock is bigger than that oversized eclair you made," growled
Nikki as my cock pulsed within her.

   "You.  Bet.  You're.  Gorgeous.  Ass.  It.  Is!" I grunted, punctuating
each word with a slow but penetrating thrust.  Embedded fully within Nikki,
I pulled her up onto her knees, her face and breasts still resting on the
table.  I grasped said gorgeous ass and explored its chocolate-covered
curves at last as I continued to bury myself in her pussy.  Soon, I was
gritting my teeth and felt my pace quicken almost involuntarily.

   But Nikki suddenly squirmed herself free beneath me.  "Oh no," she said
sternly.  "This is amazing so far, but I want a lot more, and I want
something different." With that, she rolled out from underneath me, and in
turn pushed me back to lie face up on the table.  Now she straddled me,
pussy resting along my cock, but not yet sliding me within her.  The whole
front of her body and the left side of her face were coated in the makings
of eclairs.  She was dusted in sugar and flour, mostly sugar, and smears of
cream and chocolate were everywhere over her magnificent body.  My hands
went involuntarily to her breasts, and she put her hands over mine,
pressing them deep into her firm but yielding flesh.  She closed her eyes
and let her head droop as I massaged her tits and she vibrated her pussy
against my shaft.  I pulled her down lower and I craned my neck so that I
could one more suck all that sweet goodness from her chest and nipples.

   At last, she could take no more.  She lifted up a little and slid a hand
between us, raising my cock to where she could impale herself upon me.  I
gasped happily as I felt her enclose me once more.  My hands slid downward
to grab her ass, massaging it now, and encouraging her movements as she
began to rise and fall atop me.  Each delicious passage of her enclosing
flesh around my dick was sending shivers through me.  I could not help but
begin to thrust upward into her in turn.  At first, we were out of rhythm
and it messed things up, but we swiftly synchronized and were both gasping
with passion.  Nikki's normally placid face wore an animal snarl as she
humped me, and I'm sure my face answered under the effort.  Sensing I was
closer than her, I slipped my hand around under her and teased her clitoris
with my finger.  She informed my that I was cheating, but did nothing to
dissuade my efforts.

   Efforts that were soon rewarded, as Nikki was once more shuddering with
waves of orgasm.  Rather than the earlier explosion, followed by smaller
waves, this time her ecstasy built upward as it took her, rising with each
cry as my cock and finger invaded her.  As her climaxes finally started to
fade, I thrust up into her faster, releasing my hand and focusing all my
attention on my cock pressing into her tightly clenched vagina.  I shouted
out loud, belaboring the obvious about how I was about to come, as my hips
bucked spasmodically and I unloaded inside her, jizz spilling forth to fill
her in a glorious release.  We both cried out one more time, then she
collapsed atop me, I kissed her deeply, and my hands clenched at her ass
while my cock throbbed in post orgasmic bliss.

   Cleaning each other up enough for me to get dressed again was a chore,
though the amount of work Nikki, naked and encrusted with sugar, did to
help me almost made me try for round three.  But I was almost certainly
spent, and she seemed so as well.

   Nikki was straightening my tie when she said, "When you come in in the
mornings for your eclairs, maybe don't let on to the staff about this?  I
have a hard enough time keeping employees without that to confuse them!"

   I laughed, "You have a problem with employee retention because the girls
are all having to deal with the fact that you have a better body than they
ever will, and the boys are confused because you don't hold it against
them!"

   "And," she went on, ignoring my perceptive statement, "I hope I see you
at closing time every once in a while.  Maybe don't wear such fancy
clothes."

   "If I don't wear fancy clothes, what excuse will I have to take them off
before we work?"

   "Oh, I can think of several reasons."



   Ideal Suburbia Ch.  06

   Various professionals provide all sorts of services.

   I was settling in nicely to my new house and job in the southern
midwest. I was still looking for a few more home goods, but I had enough
stuff in my house to feel like it was furnished.  Things at my job were
going well, with my original big account back in the San Francisco office
still happy and producing good revenue.  My first significant new account
here in the city where our corporate headquarters were located (which I had
landed with a creative interpretation of Team Sales) was becoming rapidly
profitable.  I had met some attractive and sexually willing women.  I was
starting to get to know my co-workers.

   I even found a regular barber.  Actually, she was primarily a hair
stylist.  I had just wandered into her shop one late afternoon because I
saw the barber pole outside and was feeling a bit shaggy over my collar. 
Turns out Yvonne was a licensed barber as well as an aesthetician.  She had
a small clientele of older men who all seemed to make their appointments
early on Monday or Tuesday, when they sat around talking to each other and
Yvonne about hockey for some damn reason.  That time was out for me because
of work, and more importantly because I had no damn interest whatsoever in
talking hockey.  I ended up coming in every Thursday toward the end of the
day to get a trim.  I got the side eye from the all-female regulars at
first, but within two or three weeks, I found they started treating me
either as if I wasn't there, or indeed, was one of the girls.  It took me a
while to realize that they had evaluated me, found me quiet, well-groomed,
very well-dressed, polite, and not giving a damn about sports and decided
that meant that I was gay!

   I didn't disabuse them of the notion.  No one among them was attractive
enough to my eye to concern me regarding any opportunities, and besides,
women who think there are no heterosexual men about can be as raunchy as
guys ever are, just in entertainingly different ways.  I would always relax
and enjoy the gossip as it flew.  I suspected it might be useful at some
point.  People around this area sure knew a hell of a lot about a hell of a
lot of other people's business.

   My boss Cathy had discovered that I did not play golf, and had decided
for me that it was time I learned.  She also decided that I was quite
excited about this....

   Yeah.

   She set me up with guest privileges at her country club, which was way
the hell out on the north side of town.  She also informed me that she
expected to see me in golf attire on casual Fridays, and to leave those
Friday mornings free on my schedule so that I could be up at Winding Hills,
learning to play the game and lose to customers convincingly.  My first
lesson day came, and I got up stupidly early to beat the rush hour traffic
up toward the club.  That meant that I had plenty of time when I got there
for a scone at one of the several Starbucks nearby.  As I chewed on the dry
pastry, I reflected that the local bakery in my neck of the woods was so
much better...  in so many ways.

   I was back in my car and pulling up the long drive to the huge
white-pillared clubhouse in plenty of time.  It looked like 90% of the
other golf club clubhouses across the country.  My degree is in leisure
management and I remembered that my professor in customer-facing
architecture had gone on at great length one day in class about why country
club clubhouses all look mostly the same.  I had mentally filed that
information under "there is a good reason for this, don't fuck with it",
discarded the details as to why, and went back to staring at the usually
bare midriff of my hot classmate who always sat near me.

   I entered through the big, impressive entry and identified myself to the
receptionist inside.  A flicker of recognition came to her with my name and
she reached in to a file drawer and pulled out a club marketing folder. 
"Here you are!  Ms.  Ecklesford ask me to put this together for you.  It
has all the information you need about your guest privileges, and well as
forms and info for when you decide you'd like to join on your own behalf,"
she said presumptively.  "The big keys to remember are that you have
unlimited driving range access, member pricing on buckets of balls, and
charge privileges at the halfway house and the Nineteenth Hole, but not in
the main dining room or lounge.  Most importantly, you may have one
tee-time a month, on weekdays only if you are by yourself, as well as
unlimited access to the course when with a member or one of our
professional staff."

   "Ms.  E says she made you a lesson appointment?  Well, I won't keep you
any longer then.  You'll love whomever you work with.  All our pros are
great."

   I followed her instructions to find my way through the warren inside the
club to the pro shop in the back.  I went to the counter and told the guy
behind it that I was there for a lesson.  "With Charlie, right?" he said,
picking up the phone and pressing an intercom button.  "Charlie?  You're
nine o'clock is here." He put the phone back on the cradle and asked, "I
hear you are a first-timer?  Don't worry, we will have you joining the
Church of Golf in no time!"

   As I waited, I looked out the large windows to the course behind the
clubhouse.  It was very restful looking, with wide sweeping expanses of
immaculate grass, and large homes lining the edges, mostly obscured by
trees and shrubs.  A bright, soprano voice came from behind me, "Hi!  I'm
Charlie.  Pleased to meet you."

   I turned to meet Charlie and observed immediately that Cathy had put
some thought into making sure I learned to like golf.  Charlie was young,
probably right out of college, with cornflower blue eyes and long
straw-blonde hair that was pulled back by a visor bearing the club logo and
bound in a pony tail.  She wore a blue, mandarin-collared, athletic cut
golf shirt by Nike, also sporting the obligatory club logo.  The shirt fit
her sleek torso admirably, accentuating lean, powerful shoulders, and
stretching just right over the small pert handfuls of her breasts.  It was
tucked into the high waist of her pink capri golf slacks, cut to add a
little curve to her slender hips and athletic legs.  No part of her body
looked particularly muscular, but her figure just screamed natural athlete.
I smiled brightly and shook her hand firmly, saying how much I was looking
forward to learning golf, which at least at that moment was actually true.

   We spent a while picking out two loaner clubs for me to get started
with, a "pitching wedge" and a "five iron", whatever those were.  One was
longer than the other, but I couldn't tell the difference otherwise, to be
honest.  I could tell that my idea of golf attire, casual slacks and shirt,
disappointed her.  I'd need to up that part of my wardrobe.

   Now that I was equipped, and made to feel underdressed, we set out to
walk over to the driving range, a long expanse of grass near the clubhouse.
Apparently, this was where I would do most, if not all, of my learning, at
least to begin with.  As we ambled over, we got to know each other, and she
was older than I had thought--the same age as me, in fact.  She had been a
nationally-ranked player in college, but had not seen a path to making a
living for herself on the LPGA Tour, and had decided not to try it, opting
for this gig at a wealthy country club instead.

   The first lesson went well.  She told me I was better at keeping my head
down than most golfers starting out, and I've since learned that that
matters a lot.  On my part, I managed to hit enough balls properly (a grand
total of three the whole hour) to make the rest of my attempts not feel
like such a bag of failure.

   And watching Charlie demonstrate proper form was the highlight.  I asked
a lot of questions that necessitated repeat demonstrations.  Whether I was
standing behind her with a view of her tight little ass, or in front of
her, checking out her lovely face, she was joy to watch swing the club. 
The energy as she wound up her swings, then uncoiled in lightning
smoothness to crack the ball was an aesthetic pleasure.  And the back of my
male brain reflected that this natural an athlete would be superb at any
physical activity, not just golf.

   That is the way my brain works.  Sue me.

   The next few weeks, I progressed rapidly.  I'm a fair natural athlete
myself, and my puppy dog desire to do well to impress Charlie helped keep
me focused.  I even snuck out a few evenings to a different range and hit a
ton of balls.  Soon I began chafing at just standing in one place, hitting
ball after ball.  Where was the good walk that Mark Twain said golf was
supposed to spoil?

   When the pro shop manager finally got his hooks into me, the clubs he
sold me, with bag, were more than half a house payment.  I did like them
though, and showed them to Charlie when she came in for our lesson.  "Well,
I guess you are a real golfer now," she observed, looking over my clubs. 
"Tell you what, how's your putting?" she asked, running her fingers over
the ridiculous new putter I'd allowed myself to be sold.  Damn thing cost a
mint and was apparently not a putter, but a "putting system" that had
everything but a LIDAR targeting array.  I asserted that I knew how to
putt, thanks.  In fact, I declared, I was pretty good.  Charlie raised an
eyebrow at that, but said, "Tell you what, since you have these clubs now,
lets play nine today in place of your lesson.  You can get a feel for how
the game actually goes." I enthusiastically agreed, we threw our bags in an
electric cart, and Charlie drove us out to the first tee.

   What followed would have been hilarious, had it not been happening to
me. After the first few holes, where I endangered the nearby houses with
the shanks I hit with my new driver, I dropped back to teeing off with a
four iron, the longest club I had any real ability to hit with.  Once I got
off the tees, I did pretty well, embarrassing myself with the short and
medium irons on just less than half my swings.  But the greens were the
worst.  Charlie had presciently expected me to suck at putting, and she
could not resist teasing me.  "I thought you had putted a lot?" she
taunted.

   "Yeah, well I'm used to bouncing the ball off the side boards or timing
the blades of the windmill," I snapped back.  "See any bumpers or clown's
mouths out here?" I added as yet another putt sailed 20 feet past the hole.
Making attractive women laugh is one of my favorite things, so at least I
had that going for me.

   The other thing I had going for me was getting to watch Charlie play. 
That day she was wearing a shortish skirt, tight at the top, and a white
golf shirt with an open collar that wasn't deep enough to show any
cleavage...  unless she leaned over.  Spoiler alert, golf involves a lot of
leaning over.

   Honestly, were she dressed in everyday clothes and sitting in a coffee
shop or something, I'd have hardly spared Charlie more than a simple,
appreciative glance.  But when she moved purposefully over and around the
ball, her athletic grace transformed her slender, only modestly curvy body
into a work of art that had me thinking about her often throughout the
week.

   My scorecard had too many digits on it when we finished up, and I was
frustrated.  "Don't worry," said Charlie, slapping my shoulder.  "A few
more weeks on the range, we will also mix in some putting green work, and
then in a month, we'll try another 9 holes."

   When I got in to the office after that, I ran into Cathy in the lobby.
She asked how my lesson went, and I said brightly that I played my first
nine holes that morning.  Unfortunately, she demanded to see my score card,
and her peals of laughter chased me all the way back to my office.  I
slipped out early that day, to avoid any further discussion of my golfing
performance.

   When I pulled into the cul de sac, I realized that the white van in the
next driveway over said Glistening Waters Pool Service on it!  My next door
neighbor was having her pool cleaned.  I pulled into my garage too fast and
ran through the house, fascinated to see if the pool cleaning process I had
observed a while ago was the norm.

   In my backyard, a large oak tree grows next to the high privacy fence
enclosing my, like all the other, backyards in my development.  I had
recently hammered two wooden steps into the tree for just such an occasion
as this, should I want to climb it on short notice.  I slipped quietly up
into the canopy, finding to my relief that the pool boy Danny was still
working, wading around in the pool in his red bathing suit and no shirt to
obscure the view of his richly tanned and muscular torso.  I also found, to
my great pleasure, that my neighbor Linda had again found it necessary to
sunbathe stark naked while Danny was working.  I had observed her lying out
alone on a few occasions since the first time I watched her and Danny. 
When alone, she usually wore one of several bikinis that all flattered her
incredible body, or perhaps more accurately were flattered BY that body. 
Once, I had seen her tanning with no top on.  It was also the only time she
didn't have her usually present brace of laptop computers with her.

   But the only two times now that I had been afforded a view of her neatly
trimmed pubic hair was when her pool was being cleaned.

   When Danny finished, the two of them went through essentially the same
ritual as before: She wrote out a check, then set it aside and talked about
tips while staring at his swollen swimsuit.  Today, she stood and fondled
him through that suit for a long while, as he caressed and groped her
incredibly well done breasts.  I reflected that his technique in this could
use some work, but Linda evidently enjoyed his efforts.  At last, she
pulled his shorts off him, and pushed him down to lie on the chaise.  At
first, she knelt beside it as she began to blow him, but quickly declared
that her knees didn't like the concrete.  Her solution was to climb onto
the chaise and straddle his face before bending to slurp noisily once more
on his prodigious cock.  The damn thing really was impressive.  It might
not be quite as long as mine, but it probably was even thicker.

   At any rate, Danny knew how to take implicit orders, and began to feast
on her pussy.  They went at each other for a good while, riveting my
attention.  He was going to come first, but she pulled him from her mouth
before he did, jacking away with her hand while still enjoying his efforts
between her legs.  She closed her eyes and mouth just before he came,
spraying jazz all over her face, and she smiled.  She didn't even bother to
wipe her face, just grooving eagerly to his oral attentions.  Cum slowly
began to drip off her face and her breathing became shallow before shudders
began to run through her toned, tanned body, and she threw back her head
and quietly screamed in pleasure.

   When she finally caught her breath, she shooed Danny on his way.  She
stood there naked, watching him go.  Once he left, she idly licked a bit of
his cum off her lovely face, before diving into the pool to rinse herself
off completely.  She rose back out of the pool, water cascading off her
every delicious curve.  She turned and picked up a rainbow-colored thong
bikini bottom and slipped it onto her hips, leaving her fabulous round ass
essentially completely exposed.  Then she grabbed the minuscule matching
top and donned it as well, settling her perfectly engineered breasts
within. Then she stepped inside, and returned with her two laptops and
other devices.  She sat down, and in minutes had everything open and was
absorbed in her work.

   Jesus, what was this guy's schedule, and how could I figure it out?




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