Rand McTiernan: Cozy Country Club

It started off slow, with frequent poolside talks and a noticeable lack of interest in tennis. Soon Teresa was coming to the country club for one reason alone, to see Alan and indulge herself in "adult" conversation. And Alan took his steps slowly to guarantee she never suspected his ultimate, insomnia-causing motive.

After a week her boldness started to press through. Alan noticed that the casual positions she assumed while talking displayed more and more of her anatomy, in as appealing a way as possible. And it was impossible not to present it appealingly! Her interest in social righteousness was waning, a new drive was compelling her. Why hadn't he asked her out?

She dropped every conceivable hint: expressed her boredom with the other guys at the country club, said how she usually had nothing to do at night, latched onto everything he showed interest in with the vehemence of "things in common."

Alan finally couldn't hold back and asked if she'd consider going to a movie with him. His request was practically an apology for not being able to afford something more lavish. She hit him with an instantaneous "Yes!"

Next came the dreaded meeting of the parents. He already knew Mrs. Cunningham and honestly wasn't looking forward to her reaction to his courting Teresa. He inhaled a deep breath to quell his nerves while pulling into the long Hillsborough driveway that curved up to the palatial, pillared-front entrance of the mansion.

Mr. Cunningham answered the door, introduced himself, shook Alan's hand and smiled. Alan relaxed; the grey-templed man was okay, he appeared to be used to a kaleidoscope of young male callers after his daughter. But Grace Cunningham was a different story. She greeted Alan with visible coolness, a curt smile and a frigid "Hello, Alan."

As soon as Teresa appeared, her beautiful body dressed in pure white slacks and a soft yellow tank top, Alan dragged her off. It was the first time he ever saw her dressed. What her bulging breasts and swerving rump did to the clothing was sinful. The delicious curves of her anatomy refused to be confined, obscured, or dimmed by something as foolish as clothing.

Alan took her to a drive-in and by the beginning of the second feature had her in the back seat with her arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders. Their tongues danced to the introductory music and titles of the film they never saw. Teresa's generous, giving mouth made frantic sucks on the deep stabs of Alan's scooping tongue.

His hands went to the breasts and pressed into the pliant masses of heaving softness. Teresa arched, jammed her hot tits fully into his plying fingers and groaned with ecstatic happiness before suddenly collapsing away and defending the honor of her flesh.

"Alan, please…" she meekly scolded.

"I knew it," he said.

"Knew what?"

"That you didn't mean the things you said, that I'm really not good enough for a girl like you." He turned his back in a pout and waited.

She couldn't allow it. "No, Alan, it's not that… it's just that I… I… "

Her sudden silence was unexpected. Alan turned and asked, "What?"

She was crying, glistening tears rolled from her large blue eyes to drip down her cheeks as she admitted her reason for stopping him. "I'm a virgin."

Alan felt like a Chinese gong had just been clobbered by a Sumo wrestler in his head. Impossible! Eighteen, stacked to the limits of nature, beautiful, popular-and a virgin?

He coughed away the tightness in his throat before stammering, "Really? You're a virgin?"

With an embarrassed nod of her head she readmitted the condition. "I'm sorry," she meekly whispered.

"Sorry? There's nothing to be sorry about. We can overcome it," said Alan as his arms went protectively around the poor invalid.

"I'm afraid," she whispered in his ear.

Alan's guts were about to explode with excitement. He couldn't believe it, what a treat, an honor, a rarity! His hands tenderly lifted her tear-streaked face up to his and he kissed softly, caressingly until all the wet was gone. Then he sat back with her comfortably cradled in his arms. A thought ran through his mind.

"Not here," he said. "Not in the back seat of an old Volkswagen… not even in the back seat of a brand-new Rolls Royce, dammit!"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"A hotel. We should go check into a nice hotel and enjoy it in comfort."

With her face deeply buried in the crook of his arm, Teresa grinned. Presto!

Alan crawled to the front and started the car. His head craned back and he asked, "That is if you want to go through with it? Do you?"

"Okay," she quietly whispered. Her face went down to hide the mischief in her eyes. It worked like a charm, always did. Like she told her girlfriend Eileen, "If you ever want to get a guy to treat you right, tell him you're a virgin."

Alan whined the transmission of the car into high gear and headed straight for the El Camino Real, where hotel after hotel sat along the road like toothpaste in a drugstore. Fortunately he had his pay in his pocket. Money wasn't something to consider during such a once-in-a-life-time event as a hymen breaking.

"Guys and their games are great," she told Eileen. "They love to put one over on us girls… The only thing to do is let them think they're doing it and put a bigger one over on them."

Alan pulled into the first hotel he found-a new, brightly-lit structure with gardens and the standard spraying fountain. Teresa sat in the car as he checked them in, paid the $22.50 and came bounding back from the office. "Room 14B!" he announced. "King-sized bed, color TV and a vibrating mattress!"

"Oh… I've never been to a hotel with a guy before," she lied. "Don't they check to see if we're married?"

"Hah! Not if they ever want to rent a room!"

The room was expansive, colorful and brand new. Alan bounced down on the bed and sighed. "Nice place," he said.

Teresa hung near the door and fearfully nodded. He went to her and gallantly took her into his arms. "Don't worry, Teresa, everything will be fine."

"I hope so," she said. "I'm trusting you, Alan. Please be easy and understanding."

His face glowed with flattered confidence as he steered her to the bed and eased the heavily breathing beauty of her body to the mattress. Alan lay down beside her and put his lips to hers. She kissed him with gulping lurches of her mouth as his hands delicately caressed across her neck, shoulders and back down to the blossomed breasts.

She shuddered and made sure her warm breath was hitting his ear as his hands kneaded ever so gently into her tits, as they roamed from one to the other like they were trying to decide on an angle of attack.

She arched up and felt his squeezing pressure on the warm globs. "Ohhh, it feels so good," she sighed.

Alan dug deep into the flesh until he could feel the constriction of her tightening nipples before slowly sliding one hand under her top. His fingers caressed the sleek skin of her stomach, moving upward toward the bra-less mounds. She started to shiver when he reached the beginning slope of the warm, heaving tits.

"Umm." Her head rolled from side to side with closed eyes as the relaxation of the exploring hands flooded through her torso.

Her nipples were like spiraled wood-screws jutting off the tops of the succulent masses. Alan caught them between his fingers and squeezed tightly. The heated jugs flowed like masses of putty around his hands with swinging, rocking movements of her shoulders.

"Oh, Alan, that feels so good," she sighed into his ear with a breathless whisper.

He pushed the top up to her neck and exposed the gelatinous mountains. In the dim lamplight of the room he saw that the suntan line of her older bikini was overlapped by the later sun-tan, which stopped at a new border. Triangles of white, tender flesh surrounded each rose-red, puckered nipple.