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Amateur

*** Hi all – as a gentle reminder… As with all my works, this is a work of fiction: any semblance of my characters, persons, places, and events to any, uh, actual real characters, persons, places, and/or events is purely coincidental. It’s all made up, though at times loosely based on personal experiences. Some characters that I’ve used in the past may pop up from time to time in this or future works; the reader might enjoy getting to know these characters of earlier writings. The stories are related inasmuch as they tell the story of our protagonist and his adventures as he establishes himself in a new community, and they tend to share overlapping timelines. As always, all comments are welcome.****

*****

There’s temptation, and then there’s temptation. This is a story of the latter.

“SURPRISE!!” Joanie raced across the practice green and gave me a huge hug, pretty much jumping into my arms. She looked every bit as stunning as I remembered… but more so. She was wearing a modest white golf skirt, and loose-fitting top, one button undone, that attempted to conceal her breasts. Typical cute golf-chick hair in a ponytail sticking out of the back of her hat. Bright white teeth filling out a pretty smile, if not a somewhat smallish mouth; carefully applied lipstick, and, to my surprise, fake eyelashes that, if possible, made her brown eyes seem even larger. Flawless olive-colored skin. Athletic body, flat belly; strong legs, the muscle definition formed through years of high school competition dancing. And that ass…

And, I was totally surprised. And, I felt like a total ass. She kissed me on my cheek, looked me in the eyes, then dared to kiss me – quickly – as if not to get caught – full on the lips. And reasonably so… her dad – my nascent golf buddy – had just turned the corner.

Maybe I should explain:

A year ago, Fourth of July weekend, and I had zero plans. For so many years, the holiday was a family event… parades, brats, arguments over politics, smuggled-in fireworks… all the good stuff. Now, with the kids grown and my wife estranged, going back to the traditional vacation site had lost its appeal. So, on a whim, I picked a spot I’d never been… in fact, a State I’d never been before, just to be alone and collect my thoughts. Found a nice Indian resort in the upper mid-west… casino, highly rated golf course, decent food. Looked perfect.

The first morning, as I headed from the hotel to the pro shop, I noticed a guy and a stunning woman get out of their car and head to the pro shop; I didn’t get a good look at them, but she appeared to be considerably younger than he; no way of discerning the relationship on such a brief look, but there was no mistaking her athletic build, the soft features of her face, and her long, silky hair…

I checked in then, as I headed the practice tee, saw the couple once again. She eschewed the warmup… so, I guessed, she was a beginner…and from the look of it, her companion wasn’t much better. Now, as a single golfer, one usually tosses the dice with regard to whom the starter pairs you. With luck, pleasant company; with better luck, someone of equal or better ability; on very rare occasion, a gorgeous woman. Hey – I don’t play for the eye candy, but if its there, you know?… kinda like the feeling when one gets when the rare beauty gets the seat next to you on a plane… not the reason you fly, but it makes the experience all the more pleasant.

So anyway, not my luck. They teed off 30 minutes prior to me. I was paired with a pleasant, older couple who didn’t seem all that interested in playing with a stranger. The starter was telling us about the couple in front… “beginners really, and probably shouldn’t be on this course… its a bit challenging… you may want to play through them at some point…” I smirked at the older couple; they suggested to the starter that perhaps I should play ahead as a single.

The ensuing manipulation on my part was self-serving and shameless but, I accepted and off I went. Sure enough, a couple holes later I caught the ‘beginners,’ and they eagerly offered to let me play through. The girl was quite shy… turns out she was Keith’s daughter. I took a moment to introduce myself and we had a nice little chat – they really were very pleasant; he recently divorced, she, high school junior, electing to stay with him for the summer instead of returning to her mothers house with the other siblings. I first noticed her eyes as we spoke – big, round, brown, framed by long lashes, high cheek bones, and flawless skin.

As we chatted, I took her in while hoping to maintain some sense of discretion: firm, muscular legs, and a really glorious set of tits, or at least, I presumed so: she was wearing a sports bra that flattened them against her chest. But, the golf shirt was form-fitting, and could not completely hide her abundant assets. I cannot lie, I did my absolute best to ignore her charms, and chatted with her dad for a few minutes before playing on. Nice guy, and, as one might expect, was somewhat oblivious to the budding beauty ataşehir escort his daughter had become. Maybe lots of dads are like this… they see their daughters as their ‘little girls,’ not as the objects of beauty and, perhaps, desire, perceived by the sometime licentious world around them.

Dads, of course, instinctively hope that, if they’ve done their jobs well, their daughters will grow up, find their own identities, stand their own trials of fire, and if they are blessed, find husbands and lovers and create families of their own. But, I suspect most Dads do not imagine their daughters as objects of lust; or that they might be lustful… even slutty.

As a Dad myself, I measured my conscience against my lustful thoughts as I considered my choices.

I offered my thanks and played on. Two holes later, and I was stuck behind some weekend duffers, and a couple of other foursomes in front of them. I was going nowhere, but this was really to be expected, being a holiday weekend. So, I was content to bide my time and enjoy the scenery, lost in my thoughts when Keith and his daughter turned the corner in their golf cart.

“Well, hi again Keith! Remind me of your daughter’s name?”

“Hey Steve – this is Joanie.”

After re-acquainting ourselves, I invited them to join me to finish out the round. Without waiting for her dad to comment, Joanie’s face lit up and answered for them both: “Oh yes! That’d be wonderful, and make it sooo much more fun!!” The look she gave me made me feel a little sorry for her dad, but he was happy to see her happy. Turns out, we were both Navy vets, and formed an immediate bond. He enlisted, me – an officer… but both wise enough to admire and respect the nature of each other’s service. As we went along, I gave them some pointers… Joanie actually improved a bit toward the end of the round.

Out of respect for her dad, I tried to keep my eyes off her. She was a beginner, and dad had bought the outfit for her, I surmised. It was cute, feminine, but not overtly so; even still, it delightfully accentuated her athletic form and perfect skin. Every so often, she’d catch me looking at her; rather than being offended, she’d flash that gorgeous smile, and seemingly hold the pose. She was wearing a sports bra that did nothing to show off what I’d supposed was a more than ample bosom, and her shirt, though tight-fitting, was buttoned all the way to her neck.

After the round, Keith invited me to join them for lunch. They were both super-nice, polite, salt-of-the-earth mid-westerners, just enjoying some dad/daughter time before she headed off to college. Over lunch, we discussed families and kids. For him, the divorce was tough: Joanie was the oldest, and most empathetic to his point of view. HIs wife was the church secretary, and was caught banging the pastor. Unfortunately, the local press caught wind, and the ensuing spectacle was devastating.

Joanie was five years older than her siblings, and was able to make the discernment between her love for her mom and the abhorrence of the behavior. The little ones, not so much; so, they went with mom, she with her dad. The two of them had taken up golf very recently as something to do together. One couldn’t help but be drawn to their soft-spoken charm and mutual regard.

So, I felt like an ass. For the oogling, I mean. Seriously, what kind of guy leers… even lusts, after another guy’s high-school age daughter, particularly when said guy is in the presence of the daughter. Yet here we were… Keith excused himself for a moment, and Joanie turned to me, smiling coyly: “Why do you look at me like that?”

Busted. By a high schooler. Normally, my response is quite direct, challenging the challenge. But, under these circumstances? Very likely Keith, and maybe Joanie as well, had handguns in their golf bags.

Me: “How do you think I look at you?”

Joanie, blushing a bit: “You know… like that. Like, um… some of the boys at school. They stare at me like I’m a freak. It makes me feel… awkward. Ugly – like I’m deformed… I hate it. But I really like you. I’m… confused.” She looked down.

Me: “Joanie?” I waited for her to make eye contact.

Joanie, big eyes, a little sad, turning to me: “Yeah?”

“What do you do when they look at you like that?”

“I usually say something… something mean.”

“And what do they do then?” She thinks for a minute.

“Usually, nothing. Actually, always. Always nothing.”

“Nothing at all? Do they keep staring?” She thinks about this.

“No… they… they break eye contact. They look away.”

“Away. Away how? Do they look up”. She thinks for a moment.

“No. No, they always look down.”

“Straight down, or off to the side? The left side maybe?” She considers this, then brightens considerably.

“How did you know??” I smiled.

“Body language. They, like you, and do not hide their feelings very well. Down and to the left. They, like you, are insecure. They don’t think you’re a freak. They, like most every guy, regardless of age, kadıköy escort are really attracted to beautiful women, and like to dwell on beauty when they see it. Men typically are easily stimulated by the physical beauty of women. They are also usually intimidated by them, and betray their insecurity when caught admiring a woman such as you.”

Joanie: “But that would mean… you think I’m beautiful too.”

“I think you’re gorgeous. I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable.” Joanie blushes.

“I … I understand. I um. I think… with you, anyway… I like how you look at me.”

Keith returned. “HI you two… You look lost in conversation!”

“Hi Daddy! Steve here was just explaining why I pull putts. Want to see?” Keith laughed…

“I think I’ve had enough lessons for the day. Thanks anyway.” With that, she kissed him on the cheek, excused herself, and headed off to the locker room.

Keith: “Sweet girl, but a bit insecure. I hope she grows out of it.” My guess was that Keith, for all his homespun warmth, was the source of much of his daughters neurosis. We continued our chat… about families, jobs, the Navy…

Joanie picked a different route on her way back from the locker rooms. She was in my line of sight, but behind Keith. The hat was gone, the hair down. More noticeably, she had popped three of the four buttons of her shirt. She hugged her dad from behind, bending over to do so, allowing the soft curve of her breast to spill out. Keith totally unaware, me utterly entranced. Her tits were fabulous. And, she winked at me.

After lunch, Keith and I traded contact information, and vowed to meed up again the next year. Yeah. Keith and I shook hands. Joanie gave me a hug, taking the opportunity to (I thought?) to rub her breasts across my chest. I’m sure I was imagining it… I can be a total perv.

******************

Sometime that winter, I received a text from an unknown number. I usually disregard them without thought. In this instance, however, I was intrigued…

“Hi Steve!. Is it OK if I call you Steve? I’m sorry… I don’t even remember your last name!”

“Who’s this?”

“Tehehe… I’ll give you a hint… You taught me how not to pull putts.”

“Joanie??!”

She sends a blushing smiley face. Shit.

“How on earth did you get my number??”

“Dad is not very clever about his password on his phone. I hacked it, and found you.” Winky smiley face. I hate those things. “Anyway, Hiiiii!!” Kissy face. Don’t hate that one as much. I think of her at the lunch table last summer. My cock stirs.

“To what do I owe the pleasure Joanie?”

“So you do miss me! Giglz!” Little heart signs…

“And if I did? Miss you I mean. And your Dad of course. You two were great golf partners.”

I regretted it as soon as I hit send…

Pouty face. Shit. My head was a mess… All I could think of at that moment was how hot she looked, how I stole glances the entire time we were together… how I fantasized to her body more than once since then…

“Oh… that’s it then? I mean… I thought… Oh my – I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

I should have left it there. I really should have. Everything about my attraction to her was wrong… manipulating her Dad into a follow on visit for the purpose of lusting after his teenage daughter… wrong. Golf too, but still. I could have let it go. Should have, in retrospect.

“No Joanie… wait… please. Of course I missed you too… you are a young woman of so many charms, and I’m very lucky to have spent time with just you. Its such a pleasure to have such a beautiful woman in one’s company…”

Smiley faces, hearts… Annnnd… my cock stirring again…

“You think I’m beautiful!!” Blushy face. My cock rapidly responding to the thought of her… “But, probably not in… you know… the ‘right’ way…”

I played dumb. “The right way?”

Frown face. “You probably just see me as a little girl. I’m sure the women you date are gorgeous and glamorous and… well… you know. Hot.”

There’s maybe a thousand ways to have played this. The sensible way would have been to assure her that her first lover awaited her in due time, and not to be in such a hurry to grow up. And as far as glamorous women, it’d been months – in fact since prior to first meeting Joanie, that I’d had any action at all. You know what they say about little heads thinking for big ones.

“Joanie – its not that simple. I saw how the college boys eyed you at the golf course. To them, you’re totally hot.”

“Hmmmf! They’re boys! and boring. You are… a man. A real man. Do you think I’m hot?”

“Joanie… how I see you… might be inappropriate.”

“YOU DO!! You think I’m hott~!” Kissy faces.

Sigh. Still time to get out of this.

“Yes, I do. But you’re so… young.”

“I turned 18 months ago, thank you very much… Old enough, right??”

“That’s not the point.”

“It IS the point! You think I’m hot, I’m old enough, and boys my age are boring. And they bostancı escort keep being so lame. You’re cool. I feel… good. Special, actually, when I’m around you. And you think I’m hot.” Lots of hearts.

Awkward pause.

Joanie: “Do you ever… you know… touch yourself? Sexually?” WOW. But, I wasn’t going to embarrass her again.

“Sure. I think everyone does.”

“What do you think about?” Jeez.

“Lots of things. Fantasies, I suppose.”

“What kind of fantasies? Do you think about past sex? Future possibilities? People you know?” Pretty obvious where this was headed, and I really didn’t see a way out.

I laughed a little. “Ya, I suppose. All those things.”

“You’re so lucky to have had those experiences… I know that I want it… but I’m not sure, um, well. This is so embarrassing.”

“Its OK Joanie. You can tell me anything.” Mistake.

“Really? I’m afraid you’ll hate me.” Not likely.

“Don’t worry. I’m a friend.”

“That’s the problem. In my fantasy, you are not a friend.” I thought a minute, and stopped any pretense of listening to the little white angel on my shoulder.

“And that’s because, I’m your … fantasy lover?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“In your fantasy, you know what you like. What’s been done to you in the past… what you like. I do not. All I have is boys pawing at me.” Pouty face.

“That can be part of the fun, Joanie. With the right person, its pretty awesome learning what one likes.”

“But they’re so… impatient. All they want to do is touch my boobs and put my hand on their cock. But when I think about it… I mean… I think they just like to have their cock touched, and when they cum, that’s it. I tried it once with my last BF… he was… a jerk. SO… I think about you, but. I don’t know what to think. Tell me what you think.”

“I see your point.” I had to laugh a little, in spite of myself. “But understand… guys are very different from girls. We are very, and often only visually stimulated. Women, on the other hand, are turned on by lots of things… not looks alone.”

“Oh! I get it! It’s like with you! You’re hot, but so much… more… Sometimes at night I think about you. And… well… I touch my nipples. It feels good. And,… sometimes… I get wet … down there…” The thought of this young sexy woman fantasizing about me had me with a raging hardon.

“Joanie – this conversation might be better… not texting.”

“You’re going to call me???? YAAAY!!” Shit.

“Maybe. But not tonight.” I thought back to my time with my niece and her friend, and started lazily stroking my cock.

Frowny face. “But someday? Soon?”

“Sure.”

“Well… ok then… but… can you give me some advice?”

“Sure. What’s up?

“I have a date for the dance next week, and can’t decide on the dress. Mind giving me an opinion? I’ll send you pictures!” No harm there.

“Sure.” She very quickly sent pictures of two dresses: One silver sequined, the other a cobalt blue. Pretty nondescript.

“They both look fine to me.”

“You don’t understand… they fit very differently… one is um… well – very different than the other. I know! I’ll model them. BRB…”

Evidently I was going to get a fashion show. I went to my bar and fixed a Blanton’s. Probably another mistake.

After a few minutes, and a sip of bourbon, the pics came. Jeez. The blue one was painted on. No visible signs of underwear. High neck, long sleeves, knee length… made of some type of lycra that hugged her every curve. The pic of the posterior showed it to be backless down to her lumbar, showing off lightly muscled shoulders and a narrow waist. The sequined one was a halter, loose at the top and tight fitting at the waist; it was also very short. And, it appeared that if she bent over, she’d spill out. In the picture, she twisted her body to show her ample cleavage. Vegas, ya – either one. HS winter dance? You do the math. And, I had zero chance of sleeping this night with these images in my head.

“Joanie – you look stunning in either one.” She responded…Lots of heart-eye emojis…

“But…”

Pouty face.

“Maybe its best if we talk.” Before I got in another sip of my drink, my phone was ringing. Video call. Shit.

She was wearing the halter dress. Leaning into her phone, breasts pressed together, hint of areola. Creamy, firm. I was staring… didn’t even say ‘Hi.’

“Steve? Are you there?”

“Oh – right. Sorry… I was a bit distracted.”

“By what??” She giggled. She was learning.

I managed to collect my wits about me… “By you, of course. Your dress… it fits you perfectly.”

“But you haven’t seen the whole thing yet!” WIth that, she stood up and backed away from her phone. The angle was indecent. She turned, showing off those million dollar thighs and a glimpse of panty underneath what was an impossibly short hemline. She shimmied a bit, backed further away from the camera, then after spinning around, returned to the phone. “What do you think?”

There comes a time in every guy’s life when its time to lie. Bald-faced and unblinking… totally appropriate. This was one of those times. My cock was throbbing, in my hand, blessedly out of her camera view. Lying was the right answer. But the bourbon won.

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