You either love it or hate it.
Me? I'm an old fashioned kind'a Gal from Southern USA who thinks nepotism is par for the course. It's like turning up at the golf course without a partner and the course pro offering you a eighteen stroke head start 'cos of the size of my rack, he said it woz 'cos a my handicap.
I'm a novice (at golf). My 42-inch DD tits have nothing to do with it.
Naturally, I swing.
Hell... it's unavoidable. It's not just that they (my 42 inch DD tits) stick out a mile. I've got a very narrow back. Mickey... the guy at the gas pump... he can span his fingers across my back. I know because I've sucked on them, but that's another story. Truth is they is more like 48 FF's is ya allow for the sublime s l e n d e r n e s s twixt my shoulder blades.
The long and the short of it is I really struggle with the driver, I'm ok on the irons, but the driver... the Lord knows I's tried. I dunno' maybe it's the extra weight on the swollen head, but I cannot take a driver. God knows I've tried. I've tried from ever position. I've tried with every type of head. I've been down over a pristine glossy four wood, I suckered a one wood an 'nuffin gets my goat more than a carbon fibred shaft topped by shiny walnut nobbed head that barely rocks my marble. Hell... who needs guys and their slick tools if my marble ain't gonna' be a poppin! Me... I prefer the muffin.
So the pro... let's call him... Rod... Well good ol' Rod, he watches me drive off wiv' my one iron on the 534 yard first hole.
I shanked it.
He made me noivous for Christ's sake.
He's standin' right behind me... BENDING DOWN... so he says... so he could see my strike through the ball -- Yeh, Yeh... we all known's what he was fuckin' gawping at. Is my fault all my panties are in the dry cleaners???
Fuck, a gal's gotta clean her panties some time... though I admit, I should have more than one pair. HEY bitch...you never gone out commando? Fuck me... well that happen's as well. BUT THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT... bitch!
I'm in a bunker about fifty or so yards from the tee... on the eighteenth tee! Talk about fuckin' embarrassing!
So Rod (sic)... give 'im his dues... he don't laugh. He says, 'Ya' grip's all wrong, Hun'.
"What's 'wiv the fuckin' HONEY," I say's. "I ain't ya' fuckin' HONEY! I ain't even sticky!"
"Y'a sure am sticky from where I's lookin', Honey."
"Y'a keep y'a fuckin eyes on y'a balls," I say's, laughin' like a kookaburra (an Aussie bird... I got it from Crocodile Dundee).Australia is in Erupe in'it? Mickey say's it's a fuckin' island in the South fuckin' Pacific. He's a dick head... that Mickey.
"Grip me shaft." He say's. (Rod... not Mickey)
"What 'ere? Christ... we's only on the first tee!"
"Fuckin' driver club shaft!" Rod snorts.
"Ooohh... no need to be so fuckin' Preppy!" Say's me, reaching around him and taking his shaft firmly between my glowing fingers. (Nice gal's don't sweat!)
"Now...," say's Rod, "wrap your fingers around my shaft as if you were holding..."
"your prick?" I ask... shyly... (Ok... I lied... I'm not sure I's shy... so sue me!)
Rod groaned.
"Is that too tight?"
"Na..." he squealed.
"Good... " I sighed. "With twice the force... I'm sure you'll get twice the thrust and you'll be able to stick it down there... a hell of a long way... Christ Almighty... You might even get it in the hole."
Well... There was no way Rod was going to get a hole-in-one. Are you joking... it was 534 yards for Christ's sake! Plenty of guy's have said my hands is magical but there's no way even I can get guy to shoot that distance.
He ended up in the bunker.