Jeremy's Belly Fun

Part 1: Drive Night - Bad Form

"No, no, no, Jeremy." You sigh. "Your form is still wrong. Baby... baby... I keep telling you, you gotta bend your knees a bit more... like you're getting into a squat. Straighten out your back, lock those hips, and swing with your spine! That's how you get the ball to go far!"

You've been trying to get him to correct his form for the last ten minutes - burning up what's left of your last hour at the Drive Shack. Though your intention was to use the hands-off approach to coach him, he just can't seem to get it right on his own... and he refuses to take his swing until you're satisfied with his stance.

"What?" He replies, still as clueless as ever. "That's what I'm doing, right? My legs are bent... like you said. My hips are stiff, and my back is straight. How am I wrong?"

"You're just not- you know what... I'm just gonna have to show you." Having grown impatient with him, you stand up from the comfortable black couch at your driving station, and make your way over to the tee. "Look," you sigh - walking up behind him, "I'm gonna move you around like a doll, okay, and get you in the proper stance. Hold still."

"Oh... okay."

With a firm grip, you reach your arms around his body, and grab his wrists. "Now... we're gonna bend our knees the right way, alright. Bend yours with mine, and sink your hips against my pelvis. It should feel like your sitting on me... like I'm a chair."

"Okay..."

Jeremy presses his butt against the front of your pants, as hard as he can, and folds his knees over yours. "How's that?" He asks, looking back at you, as though he's giving you a lap dance. "Am I doing it right?"

His ass feels hot and soft against your bulge... like two warm buns, wrapped tightly with a thin cloth. It's heavier than your remember it being... far more dense than it was the last time he put it on you. His extra weight, and body heat radiating from his skin, calms you down as you hold him steady.

"Y-Yeah." You stutter. "Your... your form is right. Now, I want you to tighten up your core. Like, your stomach and hips should feel like they're made of stone before you swing... like they could take a punch from Mike Tyson, and not move an inch." Leaning into his warmth, you lower your hands onto his stomach. "I'll feel your core, baby... and tell you when you've got it right."

"Alright. Hmmph... how's that?" His belly tenses up in your palms... gets stiff and hard underneath all of his fat, just like the metaphorical rock that you mentioned. "This good?"

"Yeah, baby. Great! You're starting to get it... finally. Guess you're not totally a lost cause, tonight. My big boy is learning!"

"Hehe. Big Boy? Why'd you call me that?" He looks down at his stomach, flexing it even tighter.

"Aw, don't do that to me, baby. We were doing good. Relax a little... you're going overboard now. Besides, you know you've put on a bit of a gut lately... 'cuz we keep coming to places like this, with good food. Can't say I don't keep my baby well-fed. Don't worry about it. Just focus on your swing. Now, you're gonna pretend like your whole torso is on a swivel. Rotate back... and then swing forward, as hard as you can."

"Okay... I'm gonna swing, but don't call me Big Boy again... or Poochie, or Paunchy, or Doughy, or any of those other nicknames. I don't like it when you call me fat."

"Oh please, Jeremy. Lighten up. You know I like you with a little extra weight on your bones! Just take the shot... and I'll show your belly all the love I got, as soon as we finish up out here."

"Fine... but if I make it to that big ring over there, you gotta buy me a large thing of cheesy fries before we go. May as well make love to a full gut... if you're not just bluffing."

"Oh, trust me, I'm not. Now, take the shot... just like I taught you."