I love to play golf. I'm thirty-four years old, married to a wonderful understanding woman and I play golf in a company-sponsored league once a week during the season and with some friends most weekends. The only thing I like more than golf is sex. My wife, Penni, is very understanding about both of my obsessions. She encourages me to play golf since she says it helps take the edge off the pressures from my job. She encourages me to have as much sex with her as she can handle and more even when she isn't in the mood. She tells me to have fun since it takes the pressure off her when she's reached her limit. She has an incredible limit so I don't play outside our home field very often and only when she tells me to. Her only requirement is that I don't bring it home or brag about it to my friends. I have the same agreement with her although I don't think she's ever exercised the option.
Once a year I go on a ten-day golf trip with seven of my male friends. Each year, one of us has the responsibility to arrange a golfing vacation for all eight of us. We usually pick a resort area with enough challenging golf courses for us to play a different course each day. We stay at one resort and play there and at the neighboring resorts as well. We fly to the nearest airport and rent four cars so that we have freedom of travel when we're not playing golf. That's necessary since not everyone likes the same type of dinners and some of us find other activities to fill in the down time. Like me.
Penni looks forward to my annual away from home golf outing. She encourages me to pursue both my proclivities while I'm away. She refers to it as a long distance hall pass. Since we have a mutual agreement, I don't hesitate to take her advice. What she does when I'm away is not something we discuss.
Last February, the guys and I went to Tucson. The Tucson area has a large number of resorts and enough golf courses to satisfy our needs. Ted, this year's outing organizer, used a Tucson based golf service to create a package including flights, accommodations, transportation and tee times at ten different golf courses. We stayed at a four-bedroom suite in a resort that we rented for forty-eight hundred dollars, or just sixty dollars per night per golfer. All together, the ten-day odyssey set each of us back just under three thousand dollars, including airfare and food.
We had four mid-sized SUV's for transportation. I kept the keys for one of them since I was the one who usually wandered far and wide during our outings while many of the others spend the non-golfing time watching sports, playing cards or napping. I, on the other hand, usually showered after golf, ate dinner with the rest of the gang and then left for the evening looking for more attractive entertainment. That meant I usually returned long after the rest of them were asleep.
The first night we were in town, we checked in, ate early and planned to rest for the next day. I, on the other hand, took the set of car keys and planned to scout the nearby bars and clubs for whatever action Tucson might provide. I wandered through the resort lounge on the way out.
It was early and the lounge was almost empty. However, there was an attractive woman sitting at the very end of the u-shaped bar sipping what looked like neat whiskey. She appeared to be alone. "Could I really be this lucky?" I thought. "Could I be lucky right in the resort bar where I was staying? Maybe I was a little hasty taking the car keys."
I watched her for a short time and then walked over to the stool next to her. "Is this seat taken?" I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders in a manner that I took for a no and I sat down. I paid her little attention as the equally attractive, thirties something bartender wearing short shorts and a man's shirt unbuttoned half way down and tied under her bust line, came over to me to take my order. Her nametag told me her name was Susan. "I'll have what she's having," I said.
Susan returned with an old-fashioned glass with three ice cubes and half full of an amber liquor. "Thank you, Susan," I said as she placed the glass in front of me and walked away. I took a small sip of the dark liquid and smiled. The lady had good taste in alcohol. I guessed the glass contained high quality bourbon, at least fifteen-years old, possibly Elijah Craig Single Barrel.
I looked over at the woman on my left for the first time since sitting down. I was surprised to see her head turned to the right and she was looking directly at me.
"Hi," I said.
She tipped her glass in my direction in greeting.
I held up my glass in return. "Nice stuff. Elijah Craig Single Barrel 18?" I asked.
"Actually its 23," she replied.
Her voice was as attractive as the rest of her. "Roger," I said as I tipped my glass in her direction in reply.
She continued to stare in my direction. My guess is she was considering whether to begin a conversation with me.
"Surely you can tell me your name?" I suggested.
"Joyce," she offered.
Her name was as attractive as her voice and the rest of her. "Well, Joyce, was that so difficult?" I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. The list of attractions she offered was getting longer by the second. "Joyce, in the interest of full disclosure, I'm here with a bunch of boring fellows to play golf every day. I came down here to find conversation that wasn't full of sports terms and foul language and I found you. I'll be the first to admit that the conversation hasn't been high quality yet but I'm willing to give it a little time. How about you?"
Her quiet laugh made the attraction list. "Okay. I'm here with my ungrateful husband who would rather drink with his salesmen buddies than spend quality time with his wife. I came down here to find peace and consider my options. Did you forget to mention that you're married as well?"
Busted. "Yes, I'm married and happily so. I love my wife. I believe she loves me. We're realists. She issues me a hall pass whenever I travel and I offer her the same consideration while she's home alone. It works well for us."
"So, you're hunting for pussy?" Joyce asked.
"Classy," I thought. "I wasn't. I just wandered in to avoid the pseudo athletes upstairs. I saw you alone here at the end of the bar and knew you wanted to converse with someone and I was available. So here I am."
Her laughter was real this time and climbed to the top of the attractiveness list. She leaned in, placed her right hand on my leg and said, "I stand corrected. You weren't hunting."
"Right, I wasn't hunting, just hoping," I said as I placed my right hand on her thigh.
She leaned back slightly, never removing her hand from my leg, like she was considering her next move. She apparently made a decision. She used her left hand to slide her skirt up under my hand until it was resting on the bare skin of her thigh. Simultaneously, she moved her right hand higher on my thigh.
Trusting I was on the same page as her, I slid my hand further up under her skirt. She picked up her glass and drained the remaining liquid in one gulp. She put the glass back on the bar and said, "Could you excuse me for a few moments?" she asked.
In response, I removed my hand, picked up my glass and took a small sip of the bourbon. She stood up, straightened her skirt and walked away, hopefully in the direction of the lady's room. While she was gone, I finished my drink and wondered if she was coming back or if I had just been given a failing grade and a gentle jilt. In an expression of over confidence, I ordered a second round for both of us.
She was gone for almost ten minutes. I sat at the bar, sipping my drink and fingering the car keys in my pocket. When I'd almost decided to give up, she returned. She was smiling broadly. Decision made? At least I hoped so.
She pulled her stool closer to mine. She turned me slightly away from the bar and wiggled up on her stool with her legs between mine and the bar. We were sitting, almost alongside and facing each other. In this position, we were almost completely isolated from sight by anyone else in the lounge. I had my back to most of the lounge effectively blocking their view of us. There was a short wall behind her at the end of the bar that prevented anyone from watching us from that side. Anyone interested in what we might be up to would have to move to a conspicuous location and would immediately be seen by either of us.
She took a swallow of her new drink. "Thanks," she said as she put her right hand on my thigh again. I put my right hand on her thigh in return.
She gave me a look that said, "Really." I got the message. I slid my hand down toward her knee and back up her thigh under her skirt.
"Better," she whispered.
She slid her hand up until her fingers were rubbing against the seam between the legs of my trousers.
I slid my hand further up her thigh. I was only mildly surprised when I discovered she wasn't wearing any panties and she was unshaven. The closeness of the bar kept her from separating her legs very far but I was able to find the bump of her clitoris with my fingers.
She gasped slightly as I touched her and moved her hand up fully on my rapidly growing penis.
I rubbed her clitoris with two fingers in a slow circular motion. I could hear her breathing quicken and feel her hand gripping my cock more firmly. When she held her breath and her body stiffened, I paused my activity with her clit.
"No. Don't stop. It's okay," she gasped.
I moved my fingers slightly, her eyes closed and she covered her mouth with her free hand. She shook for several seconds and then relaxed. When she opened her eyes, they were shining with small tears in them. "Thank you," she said. "I'd almost forgotten that was possible."
We withdrew our hands and turned our stools toward the bar again. We sat quietly, sipping our drinks for several minutes.
"You must think I'm quite the slut," she said finally.
"To the contrary. I think you're a beautiful woman with wants and needs and lonely for the attention she deserves."
"Honestly, I'm very conflicted at this moment."
"I'm listening," I said. "Trust me. I think you'll find I'm more than just a cheap thrill."
"You have no idea what you're asking for."
"Try me. I'm in sales. I've heard it all. I've been rejected more times than sour milk. I can take it."
"I have a thousand questions for myself and most of them don't have answers."
"For example?"
