deepundergroundpoetry.com
Early Retirement Chapter 12
Early Retirement Chapter 12
We rested through the afternoon and had a light dinner before retiring for the night. I read in bed while Suzanne watched TV. We had a queen-sized bed with space we never used unless our sexual escapades messed up one side. Then we would sleep on the other. We slept in extreme proximity to each other, loving the touch of each other’s skin. We slept in the nude.
We went to the country club the following morning to practice. Neither of us had even held a club for more than a month. I was just getting my coordination back, so I had no idea what to expect. The first few shots were terrible. I felt like a beginner—a rank amateur. I lost my balance several times and almost fell. Those were my good shots. The rest were sliced badly, going straight for 150 yards before taking a sharp right-hand turn. I felt like crying. The one saving grace was that I was able to look at Suzanne’s ass clad in some tight shorts the entire time. I had stopped and was checking her out when she turned around and said, “What? Oh, I get it—checking out my ass again, are you?”
“Of course; I haven’t hit even one decent ball yet, so….”
“So…back to addressing the ball, we can address your interest in my ass when we get home. I do trust you; you know. Oh, I phoned my parents and told them I would be coming home next weekend. For some reason I forgot to mention being engaged or that you would be accompanying me. This way they will not have time to plan some strategy to destroy us. Now—back to work.” She walked to me, planted a sweet kiss on my lips, and returned to her practice, wiggling her even sweeter ass as she did.
I took a few minutes to rethink what I was doing and decided to slow everything down, even if it meant swinging at half speed or slower. It worked. My next ten shots were much better—straight, if not if usual. Gradually, I built my tempo up, and soon I was back. I suggested we try for a tee time. Being the middle of the week, I thought we would have a good chance.
We walked into the pro shop to see if anything might be available. We were able to play in another hour, so we went to the putting green to practice. It was worse than the range. I was normally an excellent putter. Today I was average at best, but I could see it slowly coming back.
We played with members we had never met before—spouses—who wanted a small wager. Under other circumstances, I would have, but I begged off claiming truthfully that I was recovering from an illness and that we were not even going to keep score. The husband shrugged his shoulders and walked up to the tee box. He hit a decent shot—220 yards, but offline into the deep rough. I relaxed and swung slowly. The ball went down the middle, but only about 170 yards. Still, I was satisfied. Suzanne easily outdrove both of us from the women’s tees. I gave her a congratulatory kiss. I played the rest of the hole, scoring a poor double bogey six. I had a bogey on the second and third holes. Then it all came together. I hit the ball as I had before my “incident.” I was able to par each of the next six holes. I played the back nine in two over par much to the amazement of our playing partners. We had returned our clubs to the staff when Suzanne kissed me again. “Nice to know I was the inspiration for your success.”
“Huh?”
“I saw you checking out my ass every time I hit the ball.”
“Well, what did you expect? You have a great ass, and you know how I love it.”
“Just wait until we get home. I have a little surprise for you.” I tried to press her but to no avail. I was resigned to waiting. Soon we were back in the car—with me driving for a change—on our way home. I opened the door and Suzanne laughed. “I can see you are impatient. Okay, I have teased you long enough. Come into the bedroom with me.” Once there she showed me a box. One by one she removed a series of graduated butt plugs. “If we start tonight, we should be able to do it before we get married.”
“I think we should wait. Going to see your parents will interfere and I think we might go out there early and stay a few days. Do you want to stay with your parents, or should I get a hotel in Seattle?”
“Would you like to sleep in a different room than me? That is what will happen if we stay with my folks, plus we will hear over and over about how wonderful David is. I will take the hotel.” I went to the phone, deciding to fly business to SeaTac and reservations for the Sheraton in downtown Seattle. We left early Wednesday morning, flying from Asheville to Portland, Oregon, and from there to SeaTac. I rented a car from Hertz using my company ID for a healthy discount. I may be rich, but I am not stupid. Forty minutes later we were in our suite at the Sheraton.
“I have a suggestion for tonight,” I told Suzanne. “Ever go down to the Muckleshoot Indian Casino? I have several times and it has always been a lot of fun.” Suzanne agreed and off we went, back down I-5 toward Auburn. I chose valet parking and strode confidently to the Players Club desk. My card received an instant response from the clerk and seconds later from George who had always been my representative. I gave him a voided check; he gave me a $10,000 voucher. Suzanne watched in amazement until I led her to the blackjack tables. We sat at a $25 minimum table, and I handed over my voucher, eliciting a huge welcome from the pit boss. I sat Suzanne next to me and shoveled over a pile of chips.
“How much is this,” she asked.
“If I counted right, it should be $3,000. If I were you, I had bet the minimum.” She pushed ten chips forward and had the black hundreds changed into green twenty-fives. I put two black chips onto the square in front of me. We played for about two hours holding our own—losing only about $500—when we decided to break for dinner. We left the chips on the table knowing they would be safeguarded in our absence and walked to the Casaba Grill for dinner. We were shown directly to our table despite the lengthy line—one of the benefits of being a high roller. We enjoyed thick steaks with lettuce wedges and onion soup. I ordered a margarita on the rocks and was pleased when Suzanne just asked for the same. I knew now that I was back. Our meals were comped, but I did leave a hefty tip for the staff—a hundred-dollar chip. We returned to the table after dinner and had an exciting time, leaving around eleven almost $2,000 ahead even after tipping the dealers $200. The ten thousand was returned to my account; I gave the $2,000 to Suzanne with a kiss. The look she gave me was priceless.
We were back in our suite by midnight, and it felt later because our bodies were still on Eastern Time—three hours ahead. We showered, but not together because the stall was small, and went to bed. I was lying on my back with my eyes closed when I felt Suzanne crawl onto my body. “Don’t you ever get enough,” I whispered.
“You know I do not. I am in love with you. I must take diligent care of you, don’t I?”
“Haven’t you been doing that? Who nursed me back to health, spoiling me rotten for weeks?”
“I didn’t mean that way.”
“I know, but why are we whispering? Are we afraid to wake the kids? Or how about your parents? I want you to tell me all about them tomorrow morning. But now….” I felt around in the dark for Suzanne’s lips, pressing into them with mine as my hands found her breasts.
“Oh, Bob,” she moaned, lifting her body so I could suckle. I rolled her onto her side to give me more access to her body. I suckled one breast, massaged the other, and rubbed her pussy with my free hand. It was only seconds that she was soaked. That was my cue to roll her over and climb aboard. “I thought you’d never….”
“Patience, my love; good things come to those who wait, and you’ve waited long enough.” I rubbed my cock into her slit. I could feel the arteries pulsing as I slid smoothly into her vault. We moved together, slowly at first, wanting to make it last wanting the feeling to build until we could take it no more. Suzanne wrapped her long legs around my waist, locking her ankles and pulling me even deeper into her core.
We continued to kiss, our faces a mess from the saliva, but who cared? We were lost in each other, lost in our rapture as we pounded together—me torturing her poor cervix and Suzanne beating her hot hard bud into my abdomen. No lovers could continue at the pace we were keeping now. Only our exhaustion had prevented it from ending minutes ago, but even that was doomed to lose. Our bodies built to the edge sustained themselves there for a minute and it happened. Over the edge, we tumbled as our orgasms controlled our very existence. We fell together in a sheet of sweat. We panted for several minutes while we regained control, taking it back at last.
We had laid there for almost ten minutes too tired to even move. I was stroking Suzanne’s head when I whispered, “A perfect ending to a perfect day.”
“Tell me again why we’re whispering,” Suzanne said with a laugh then she continued, “I think we should move. This side of the bed is a mess.” It was one time I was thrilled we had a king-sized bed. We scooted over and fell into a deep sleep.
To be continued
We rested through the afternoon and had a light dinner before retiring for the night. I read in bed while Suzanne watched TV. We had a queen-sized bed with space we never used unless our sexual escapades messed up one side. Then we would sleep on the other. We slept in extreme proximity to each other, loving the touch of each other’s skin. We slept in the nude.
We went to the country club the following morning to practice. Neither of us had even held a club for more than a month. I was just getting my coordination back, so I had no idea what to expect. The first few shots were terrible. I felt like a beginner—a rank amateur. I lost my balance several times and almost fell. Those were my good shots. The rest were sliced badly, going straight for 150 yards before taking a sharp right-hand turn. I felt like crying. The one saving grace was that I was able to look at Suzanne’s ass clad in some tight shorts the entire time. I had stopped and was checking her out when she turned around and said, “What? Oh, I get it—checking out my ass again, are you?”
“Of course; I haven’t hit even one decent ball yet, so….”
“So…back to addressing the ball, we can address your interest in my ass when we get home. I do trust you; you know. Oh, I phoned my parents and told them I would be coming home next weekend. For some reason I forgot to mention being engaged or that you would be accompanying me. This way they will not have time to plan some strategy to destroy us. Now—back to work.” She walked to me, planted a sweet kiss on my lips, and returned to her practice, wiggling her even sweeter ass as she did.
I took a few minutes to rethink what I was doing and decided to slow everything down, even if it meant swinging at half speed or slower. It worked. My next ten shots were much better—straight, if not if usual. Gradually, I built my tempo up, and soon I was back. I suggested we try for a tee time. Being the middle of the week, I thought we would have a good chance.
We walked into the pro shop to see if anything might be available. We were able to play in another hour, so we went to the putting green to practice. It was worse than the range. I was normally an excellent putter. Today I was average at best, but I could see it slowly coming back.
We played with members we had never met before—spouses—who wanted a small wager. Under other circumstances, I would have, but I begged off claiming truthfully that I was recovering from an illness and that we were not even going to keep score. The husband shrugged his shoulders and walked up to the tee box. He hit a decent shot—220 yards, but offline into the deep rough. I relaxed and swung slowly. The ball went down the middle, but only about 170 yards. Still, I was satisfied. Suzanne easily outdrove both of us from the women’s tees. I gave her a congratulatory kiss. I played the rest of the hole, scoring a poor double bogey six. I had a bogey on the second and third holes. Then it all came together. I hit the ball as I had before my “incident.” I was able to par each of the next six holes. I played the back nine in two over par much to the amazement of our playing partners. We had returned our clubs to the staff when Suzanne kissed me again. “Nice to know I was the inspiration for your success.”
“Huh?”
“I saw you checking out my ass every time I hit the ball.”
“Well, what did you expect? You have a great ass, and you know how I love it.”
“Just wait until we get home. I have a little surprise for you.” I tried to press her but to no avail. I was resigned to waiting. Soon we were back in the car—with me driving for a change—on our way home. I opened the door and Suzanne laughed. “I can see you are impatient. Okay, I have teased you long enough. Come into the bedroom with me.” Once there she showed me a box. One by one she removed a series of graduated butt plugs. “If we start tonight, we should be able to do it before we get married.”
“I think we should wait. Going to see your parents will interfere and I think we might go out there early and stay a few days. Do you want to stay with your parents, or should I get a hotel in Seattle?”
“Would you like to sleep in a different room than me? That is what will happen if we stay with my folks, plus we will hear over and over about how wonderful David is. I will take the hotel.” I went to the phone, deciding to fly business to SeaTac and reservations for the Sheraton in downtown Seattle. We left early Wednesday morning, flying from Asheville to Portland, Oregon, and from there to SeaTac. I rented a car from Hertz using my company ID for a healthy discount. I may be rich, but I am not stupid. Forty minutes later we were in our suite at the Sheraton.
“I have a suggestion for tonight,” I told Suzanne. “Ever go down to the Muckleshoot Indian Casino? I have several times and it has always been a lot of fun.” Suzanne agreed and off we went, back down I-5 toward Auburn. I chose valet parking and strode confidently to the Players Club desk. My card received an instant response from the clerk and seconds later from George who had always been my representative. I gave him a voided check; he gave me a $10,000 voucher. Suzanne watched in amazement until I led her to the blackjack tables. We sat at a $25 minimum table, and I handed over my voucher, eliciting a huge welcome from the pit boss. I sat Suzanne next to me and shoveled over a pile of chips.
“How much is this,” she asked.
“If I counted right, it should be $3,000. If I were you, I had bet the minimum.” She pushed ten chips forward and had the black hundreds changed into green twenty-fives. I put two black chips onto the square in front of me. We played for about two hours holding our own—losing only about $500—when we decided to break for dinner. We left the chips on the table knowing they would be safeguarded in our absence and walked to the Casaba Grill for dinner. We were shown directly to our table despite the lengthy line—one of the benefits of being a high roller. We enjoyed thick steaks with lettuce wedges and onion soup. I ordered a margarita on the rocks and was pleased when Suzanne just asked for the same. I knew now that I was back. Our meals were comped, but I did leave a hefty tip for the staff—a hundred-dollar chip. We returned to the table after dinner and had an exciting time, leaving around eleven almost $2,000 ahead even after tipping the dealers $200. The ten thousand was returned to my account; I gave the $2,000 to Suzanne with a kiss. The look she gave me was priceless.
We were back in our suite by midnight, and it felt later because our bodies were still on Eastern Time—three hours ahead. We showered, but not together because the stall was small, and went to bed. I was lying on my back with my eyes closed when I felt Suzanne crawl onto my body. “Don’t you ever get enough,” I whispered.
“You know I do not. I am in love with you. I must take diligent care of you, don’t I?”
“Haven’t you been doing that? Who nursed me back to health, spoiling me rotten for weeks?”
“I didn’t mean that way.”
“I know, but why are we whispering? Are we afraid to wake the kids? Or how about your parents? I want you to tell me all about them tomorrow morning. But now….” I felt around in the dark for Suzanne’s lips, pressing into them with mine as my hands found her breasts.
“Oh, Bob,” she moaned, lifting her body so I could suckle. I rolled her onto her side to give me more access to her body. I suckled one breast, massaged the other, and rubbed her pussy with my free hand. It was only seconds that she was soaked. That was my cue to roll her over and climb aboard. “I thought you’d never….”
“Patience, my love; good things come to those who wait, and you’ve waited long enough.” I rubbed my cock into her slit. I could feel the arteries pulsing as I slid smoothly into her vault. We moved together, slowly at first, wanting to make it last wanting the feeling to build until we could take it no more. Suzanne wrapped her long legs around my waist, locking her ankles and pulling me even deeper into her core.
We continued to kiss, our faces a mess from the saliva, but who cared? We were lost in each other, lost in our rapture as we pounded together—me torturing her poor cervix and Suzanne beating her hot hard bud into my abdomen. No lovers could continue at the pace we were keeping now. Only our exhaustion had prevented it from ending minutes ago, but even that was doomed to lose. Our bodies built to the edge sustained themselves there for a minute and it happened. Over the edge, we tumbled as our orgasms controlled our very existence. We fell together in a sheet of sweat. We panted for several minutes while we regained control, taking it back at last.
We had laid there for almost ten minutes too tired to even move. I was stroking Suzanne’s head when I whispered, “A perfect ending to a perfect day.”
“Tell me again why we’re whispering,” Suzanne said with a laugh then she continued, “I think we should move. This side of the bed is a mess.” It was one time I was thrilled we had a king-sized bed. We scooted over and fell into a deep sleep.
To be continued
Published 13th Sep 2022
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 2
reads 299
Commenting Preference:
The author is looking for friendly feedback.
14th Sep 2022 5:17am
15th Sep 2022 5:57pm
