Caddy

Unlike the truck that rolled up and died outside the ramshackle cabin in the middle of nowhere, northeast USA, there was a lot to unpack in how we got here. Forgive me if I don't. There's only so many times you can cut open the same scar before it stops healing. Suffice it to say, we were now one of those families that made daily decisions like 'gas or toilet paper?'

I was eighteen, man of the house. Even the dream of an education was long gone. I had never really had a chance to play at life, and now had lost before I'd begun. Before you think this is going to be just me telling you folks how tough I've had it, that's about it for the sob story. Take it as what we fancy literary folk call context or back story.

Our cabin in the woods came with a small pocket of land upon which nothing would grow but weeds and fungi. It did however run down towards a creek we shared with the greenest most manicured lawns I'd ever seen. I imagined a billionaire must live next door. Until half asleep on the bus home one evening after a fruitless search for work, I spotted the sign for the bizarrely named Sewing Circle Golf and Country Club.

Sensing the possibility of an opportunity, and with little to lose, just after dawn the following morning, I washed and dressed in my finest and tramped cross country to the clubhouse. I soon found out two things, one, they were a strictly female establishment that didn't hire men or even take kindly to their presence. And two, it was very easy to have the cops called on you in this part of the world.

Thankfully, the second, non-idle threat was averted by the arrival of a tiny sportscar. I was explaining my position for the sixth time to a female security officer with her phone drawn as the gravel settled down and the car door opened. Out popped a short, dark, extremely attractive woman dressed for golf in skimpy white skirt and tight Fred Perry polo shirt. I guessed thirties? She had an open, inquisitive face that looked like it was quick to frown or smile. Now, forgive me ladies, I don't know who Fred Perry was, but he sure knew how to cut cloth to show off breasts at their best. Ms. Sportscar had them aplenty and had somehow squeezed them both into one of his aforementioned polo shirts. I say, 'squeezed them', she'd manages to squeeze in everything bar the nipples which looked like they were busily boring their way through the material at the front like twin silkworms.

My mouth opened as she approached. Cat most definitely got my tongue was apt as I realized she looked familiar. She was the doppelganger for Penny Barber, whose cat I had watched being tongued on a thousand videos online.

"What's going on here?" She asked with the authority of a camp commandant that made my penis jump.

"Trespasser." The security lady explained.

"Who are you?" Penny fixed me with a steely gaze that had a similar effect to Wonder Woman's lasso.

"I-I-I'm new to town. Just moved in across the creek. Looking for work." It all ran out of my mouth in a splutter that became splash. I was partly nervous because of how close I was to being arrested, and partly terrified to be interrogated by this imposing woman and largely, shockingly (for me at least) turned on by her authoritative manner.

"We don't hire men." She said more gently. "Something you would have seen signposted had you arrived by car."

She flicked her head towards the security guard who accepted it as a signal of dismissal and wandered back towards the clubhouse.

"I was hoping to find bar work or a waiter position."

"All women." She responded. "Along with security," she nodded towards the departing guard, "groundskeepers, kitchen staff, cleaners, golf pros, etc., etc.,."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

She nodded, stern look softening somewhat into a sharp-toothed smile. It should have been scary but was in fact sexy as anything.

"That's ok. An all-female club is still unusual, you're not the first to think we need a male... presence."

I stammered that that wasn't what I'd meant. She flashed me a smile somewhere between crocodile and Carebear.

"There is one position that I could try you out for that's within the rules of the club. If you'd be interested?"

I nodded dumbly, never thinking to ask what it was.

"Are you a hard worker?"

I nodded.

"Can you take instruction."

Again, I nodded.

"Can you put the needs of other above your own?"

"Yes, mam."

"Have you ever played golf?"

"On P-Playstation." I added dumbly.

"Ok. We can work with that. Follow me."

She walked me to the back of her car and clicked her key fob. The trunk opened by magic revealing a massive set of golf clubs.

"Course is being heavily watered ahead of the dry season, so carts are verboten. How about you carry my clubs?"

I didn't answer. All I could think of was not getting arrested and being able to provide some food for dinner that night. Well, that and what lay at the top of the shapely gams poking out from under that skirt.

I uneasily lifted the clubs from the car, desperately trying to find the point of balance on the bag. Eventually, I had them slung over my shoulder like I'd seen on tv. All without letting the expensive clubs spill out across the gravel.

"Chop chop." She said, setting off towards the side of the clubhouse. I dutifully followed, Mary's little lamb.

We soon made it to the first tee (as I later discovered it was called). The woman, who by now had introduced herself as Goldie (short for Marigold, apparently), asked for a driver, then snatched it from the bag herself when I looked about dumbfoundedly for a chauffeur.

"Pay attention. Learn the clubs. Watch to see which one I use for each shot, and soon you'll be able to double guess what club I'm looking for. Ok?"

I nodded, trying to memorize the driver she'd chosen.

Next, she moved me from behind her, to around to the side.

"Best not get hit with the backswing." She added.

I nodded and prepared to watch her tee off.

Now, I haven't had many erotic experiences in my life, but the formative one for me will forever be watching Goldie lining up to take her first shot with me as her caddy.

First, there was the frame of her, petite, like I said, but athletic and strong with wide shoulders and hips. Large breasted, and with her perfect cute little ass stuck out too to counterbalance. The muscles, not showy but beneath the surface of her arms, her torso, her neck, her back moved as she pivoted and swung.

The majestic whack of the ball. And then a beautiful laugh like water over rocks in a stream.

"You're supposed to watch the ball, Caddy." She said demurely, looking at me from under her lids.

I realized I'd ignored the shot completely in favor of watching the shooter. However much I was in lust before, I was lost now.

"I'm sorry", I stammered, "I've never seen anything so ... I mean I've never seen someone hit a ball before."

She grinned even more widely.

"That's ok, Caddy. Consider it part of the learning curve."

I nodded dumbly.

"Follow me."

I did. And would have to hell and back at that stage. I could make out her pert ass swish back and forth against the fabric of her tiny skirt as she walked. And I followed in her shadow, watching, my cock swollen.

"Keep up." She said matter-of-factly as we approached her ball.

This time she named an iron by number, and I selected it easily enough.

She looked really pleased with me when I put it in her hand, grip first.

"Oh, I do enjoy an eager learner." She smiled, and waited for me to reciprocate, before lining up for her next shot.

As we followed her second shot towards the green (again, I was learning on the job), she told me that if I picked up what she was teaching me, I could earn a decent living at the club. Golfers tipped upwards of $100 per round. That could rise to $1,000 for a competition.

I was shocked and delighted and extremely appreciative at the lesson.

I lost my newfound employee brain a few moments later. I'd extracted the flag from the hole, as requested, and stood behind Goldie whilst she putted. That I enjoyed doing considerably and cheered when the ball went in the hole. The cheer died on my lips, however, when she leaned over to retrieve the ball from the hole. She bent from the waist and her tiny skirt rode up, revealing the most gorgeous buttocks I'd ever seen in my life. Small, full, round, tight. With the barest bald glimpse of what lay beneath and ahead through her thigh gap.

"That's me for a three." She said, taking a small card from the pocket of the bag I was holding and handing me a pencil. She pointed to the square on the card, and I scribbled a 3.

We wandered up to the next tee and I slipped a driver into her hand before she even asked for one.

"Nice try." She smiled. "But this one." She slid the driver back into place and removed one that looked identical.

'More elevation, more distance." I looked somewhat forlorn.

"Hey," she said, "An hour ago, you didn't know the difference between a driver and an iron."

I shrugged and she placed the ball on the tee, almost giving me another sight of the promised land.

This time, I noted a decided thwack sound when she hit the ball. I was following its trajectory carefully and didn't even look away when she cursed.

"Sliced it." She clarified.

"I saw where it went." I offered helpfully.

"Come on then, sport, let's find my ball."

We strode along the fairway together and veered through the scrub grass on the edge into deeper grass, then bushes and finally trees.

As we strolled along, she chatted amicably.

"You never asked me about the name of the club."

"Not my place to. They called it what they called it."

"Still. It might give you some context. Back in the Golden Age of Hollywood, not everyone had what one might call conventional life choices."

I uh-hu'd.

"Alla Nazimova and Marlene Dietrich both used The Sewing Circle as a euphemism for a place where women could be together and feel safe. Do you understand?"

I went a shade of red and said I guessed so.

"Well, that's what this club is. It was established way back by the women of the McCallister clan. Although, over the years its mission has changed somewhat. Nowadays, people are more liberal, less given to throwing stones and we've a much broader membership, but the core goal remains the same. A safe space for women away from the male gaze."

I nodded again, kicking at the grass as if looking for the ball.

"I'm one of the ones who's calling for a limited relaxation of the rules. To allow certain men of the right disposition in to fulfil certain roles within the club."

"Hence me caddying?"

"Exactly. I believe there's a place for men here." We'd strayed deep into the brush and trees now, leaving the fairway a fair way behind.

"Do you know what place I have in mind for you?" She asked, stopping.

I stopped too, suddenly very aware of how far we'd strayed off the path and how still and quiet the trees seemed.

"I-I"

"Let me help you find it." She turned to face me. To be honest, I thought she was still trying to find the ball. Grabbing my shoulders in a surprisingly firm grip, she pushed downward. I could have resisted, just. Instead, I allowed her to push me onto my knees in the scrub.

My face must have been a picture, but she didn't laugh. Instead, she lifted her skirt up, revealing her bald pussy to me. My nose, about four inches away, twitched as it picked up a beautiful, feral scent that mixed with the smell of trees and grass and earth beneath my feet.

My momma didn't raise fools.

My hands rose up by themselves and slid up the backs of her thighs to cup her buttocks. My head moved forward, and my nose nuzzled into her slit, then up along it, followed by my tongue.

Goldie sighed, like she was pleased with her decision, and placed a hand on either side of my head. With gently pressure, she guided my mouth along her slit to the clitoris, and then increased the pressure on the back of my head to pin me there, mouth perfectly positioned.

I began to make small circles with my tongue, feeling my mouth and chin slick with her juices which were already flowing.

She increased pressure on the back of my head, and at the same time, pushed her hips forwards so my mouth was grinding against her as my squashed tongue lapped at her clit.

I was not conscious of the rough ground beneath my knees, of the trees, of the golf course, of anything other than Goldie's clitoris and my overwhelming desire to repay her the kindness she's shown me. Well, that and the massive lust that had been propelling me since I set eyes on her that morning.

I forced my head to make tiny movements within her vicelike grip, rubbing back and forth on her clit, tongue occasionally diverting down amid her labia to suck up more lubrication.

She tasted divine. Nectar and fine soap. I could feel a tremble in her legs through my hands on her buttocks and redoubled my licking.

I didn't know just how I found myself in this manicured wood, nuzzling the most delicious pussy I'd ever seen, let alone been close to. I just thanked my lucky stars and decided I'd accept this as payment enough in itself.

Then she broke away, leaving me kneeling there with a stiffy poking out from my trousers. I thought she was finished and went to stand up.

"Don't move." She ordered sternly.

I did as ordered. Or rather, didn't.

She turned and presented me with her most beautiful butt. Bending over slightly, the view opened up on the most delicious asshole I've ever seen. It wasn't bleached, nor was it too dark, and it was completely hairless, glistening slightly after our walk through the course in the early morning heat.

As she discovered on the fairway, I don't need instructing twice. My hands pulled her cheeks apart and I sank my tongue between them. The taste was intoxicating. Clean, like her pussy, but with a different note, something more earthy, sweaty, human. My tongue flicked back and forth over the hole, caressing and probing as it throbbed before me, then the tip of my tongue dipped inside. I felt her shiver.

I slid one hand along her perineum to find her slit and gently caressed her with my fingers as I began to slide my tongue in and out of her ass.

She squealed in delight and pushed back against me, somehow keeping her balance. I made love to that puckered hole like my life depended on it. All thoughts of employment or reward had left me. This was absolute joy for the sake of it. I was getting off on inflicting as much pleasure on this tiny winking eye as I could.

I felt a thousand feet tall when I sensed Goldie stiffen. She had been ramming herself back onto me, impaling her hole on my tongue. Now, she stopped, my tongue still buried inside her like Excalibur in the stone. She let out a long moan, grabbed my hand and pulled it up to her clit. I began to rub her clitoris and she gripped my hand fiercely with her thighs. Then her whole body shook, she whimpered and growled. Shook some more and then broke away.

Standing, she patted her skirt into place and turned to me. She stared hungrily into my eyes. I was aware of the juices on my face, and the taste of her ass on my tongue. Then she broke eye contact and lowered hers to my crotch which had tented straight out in front of me.

"You will most certainly do." She panted.

"Now, on with the game."

And just like that, we were playing golf again, excursion into the bushes forgotten. By her, at least.

We found her ball and she dropped it back on the fairway and continued to play.

After nine holes, we were passing near the clubhouse once more.

"I think I've taught you enough golf for one day." She indicated the door in the side of the building, and I followed her inside.

I deposited her clubs, as requested, in a locker room with tall wide lockers and followed her down the corridor.

"I think you showed great promise on the course today." She said. "I may even put a club in your hand and see how you fare."

I nodded dumbly as we passed door after door. Turning a corner, we passed from dimly lit corridor into a large white tiled room dotted with benches. Here and there, women in various stages of undress were chatting with each other, or wandering naked to or from showers, towels over their shoulders. They ignored me completely. Goldie strode through the place like she owned it, nodding and saying hello. I stumbled along behind, not knowing where to look. I have seen my fair share of female flesh, but this was more than any one man should see and live.

"Through here." I dutifully followed Goldie into a second tiled room. She made a beeline for a bench, and I tagged along like a well-trained puppy. Two benches over, a tall woman lay out prostrate along the seat, legs apart. A young blonde woman had her head buried between her legs. The tall woman was almost shrieking with pleasure. Goldie ignored this completely and said, "Here we are."

She immediately began to strip down to her skin.

"Come on. Chop chop." I didn't follow.

"You're hardly going to shower in your clothes." She added.

Unable to think of anything else to do, I slid out of my clothes. And suddenly, there we were, facing each other, completely naked. Her body, if anything, was more beautiful revealed than it had been barely hidden beneath her clothes. A slight sliver sheen of barely visible lines like a lightening strike spread from her hips back to her buttocks. Those stretch marks the only thing that set her in her thirties over her twenties. He breasts in person were incredible. Large and firm, they must have been augmented, but were so wonderfully full and soft, they look more than real. He dainty pussy was a little raw and puffy from my earlier ministrations, but looked beyond divine. But her bottom was the piece de resistance. I would follow that ass into battle, I thought. Perfectly proportioned, round, neat and tanned like the rest of her. Just the barest hint of a bump in the undercarriage.

Absentmindedly, she reached behind her and grabbed my cock. I almost came on the spot from the touch and the shock. Pulling me along by it, she led me into a large shower cubicle with about six shower heads set along three walls. She hit one of the buttons and water cascaded down on us. It felt too late to try and hide my manhood, so I simply stood there getting wet.

"Remember, put others needs ahead of your own."

She handed me a bar of soap from one of the waist high dishes and instructed me to clean her. I didn't need telling twice. Lathering it a bit between my hands, I started with her breasts, rubbing fistfuls of soap suds onto them, concentrating on her magnificent bullet like nipples. Next, I pushed the soap up and over her shoulders and down her arms. She stood akimbo, Vitruvian woman, and allowed me, trusted me to clean her. My erection was painfully full, but I ignored it, slowly turning her into the jet of water, simultaneously washing the soap from her front and presenting me with her back.

I worked the suds from the bar down from her neck, over her shoulders and down her back. I watched it pour along her spine and through her ass cheeks. I followed it with my hands, cleaning and caressing. When I reached her hips, my hands snaked around her and over her abdomen, dropping down to her pussy.

Both hands massaged her either side of her slit and she leaned back into me, squashing my cock against her back. I continued to massage her, and she gyrated against me, ass rubbing back and forth over my balls.

My fingers were inside her now, easing in and teasing her clit and labia, lifting and pulling and probing as they rubbed. She let her head fall back beside mine as I stroked her to orgasm in the shower. Again, she made that tiny whimpering sound, that transformed into a deep guttural moan. Her entire body shook as she came, and she went limp in my arms. I was forced to raise my hands to hold onto her for a few moments while she composed herself.