The Caddie

Although this story is set around the world of Professional golf, it is not about golf, but about the people who inhabit that world. Inevitably it does contains parts that refer to the game of golf itself, but for those of you who are not golfers and do not follow it, I have endeavoured to keep these as short and simple as possible. I hope you all enjoy it.

I thought I had the best job in the world, a professional golf caddie. By that I meant I was caddie to a professional golfer, not someone who carried clubs for amateur golfers. There was a huge difference, just as there was a huge difference between a professional golfer and a club golfer, even a very good one.

I'd been doing it for about 10 years now, I had been a very good golfer myself and had tried my luck at making a living from playing golf, but soon realised that I just didn't have that very special something that set Pro's apart, so I'd reluctantly given up and started to wonder what in life I could do. All I'd dreamed about was being a Pro and winning Majors and now I was unemployed and essentially unequipped to do anything proper.

That changed when a friend's caddie left him for a better bag and he asked if I'd step in for a while. I didn't think I'd like it at first, after all I wanted to be the one wielding the clubs, not the one lugging the heavy bag around, but I found to my surprise that I did actually really enjoy it.

Of course there was a lot more to it that just carrying the bag, I was part of a team working with my Pro, helping him make the correct decisions on clubs, ways to play a shot, lines to be taken and of course, reading the greens.

It was nice too to be a member of that very elite group, the Tour, rubbing shoulders with some of the very best golfers in Europe, learning from them all the time, and slowly I worked my way up the caddie ranks. Experience was what everyone wanted from their caddie, but again it was more than that, you had to get on as partners, it was no use being at loggerheads ever, that just led to the sack, to be replaced by someone else.

Of course we disagreed from time to time, and I had to recognise that he was the one playing the shot and whose income, as well as mine, depended on the success of that shot. It was nice though sometimes to be recognised for being right.

It was still a precarious life, you were only as good as your Pro's last game, if his form slumped the first person to be blamed was the caddie, I didn't have any form of employment protection, I was self-employed and could be sacked literally at a moment's notice. The relationship between us was symbiotic, but sometimes it could feel parasitic, I was paid a small daily rate and my expenses were covered, but the real money came from bonuses, I got 10% of his winnings if he won the tournament, and 7.5% for a top ten finish, tapering down. Thus successful Pro's were much in demand, no matter how hard a taskmaster they were.

I'd carried for several different Pro's, and had been with my current one, Richard for three years now. We'd hooked up by chance and had got on, and under my guidance he'd improved significantly (or so I told him) and although he hadn't actually won yet, it would happen soon, so everyone said.

Life as a Touring Pro and their caddie is an arduous one, typically turn up Tuesday, play a practice round, a Pro-Am on Wednesday, tournament start on Thursday. There was a cut on Friday evening, usually only half the field would continue on Saturday and Sunday, competing for the prize money, the rest would not make it and end up going home with no income to show for their efforts. Monday at home, then it would all start again.

It was a huge strain on personal relationships and that was why I was still single. I did have a partner for a while, we'd set up home together, but the strain of me being away so much travelling around Europe and beyond proved too much and when I discovered that she'd been playing away from home more than me, we called it a day and I moved back in with Mum for the few days a week I wasn't in a hotel. I managed the odd one night stand, and sometimes I didn't return to England between tournaments, sightseeing or lazing on a beach where I found some companionship, but more often than not, it was my right hand that provided my sexual relief.

Richard was lucky, he had a lovely wife, Sandra, or Sandy as she preferred, and she usually accompanied him on his trips, watching from outside the ropes. In the evenings we all ate together, often with other players and caddies and I got to know her quite well. I was a bit jealous when they went off to their room together and I imagined them in bed together making love, whilst I had a solitary wank to some porn on my phone. She was very attractive and had a lovely body, occasionally I'd get to see it in a bikini which obviated the need for porn that night, but rarely anything else other than a glimpse of bra.

We were usually joined for dinner by Richard's best pal on tour, Peter and his caddie Simon, inevitably Simon and I became good friends, the caddies associated generally with each other rather than the players, but Richard and Peter always treated us a colleagues, not employees. Simon also was single, he never mentioned a girlfriend and never spoke of any sexual conquests, although to be fair nor did I.

The climax to the golfing year came in early December, the overall winner being crowned then and it all started again, the top 115 or so keeping their rights to play in the tournaments for the following year. The early events took place in warmer climes, typically the Middle East or South Africa and the Far East. Many players, particularly those who were confident of keeping their card for the next year skipped these, the cost of playing in them being quite high, Richard played in the bigger ones, but took some time out to rest which gave me plenty of opportunity to spend some time with Mum. Sometimes I'd stand in for another caddie, but by and large it was a quiet time of year, everyone awaiting the arrival of the European spring and summer.

We started off well, Richard seemed particularly up for it at the beginning of the season, he came second a couple of times, and it was beginning to look as though his breakthrough win wouldn't be long in coming. Sandy was a constant source of support and encouragement and I was looking forward to a really good year. Then unexpectedly Richard missed two cuts in a row, this had never happened before and we knuckled down to try to see what the problem was.

It didn't seem much, just the odd bad shot or three putt, and we put it down to bad luck, no player goes through a season without a few mishaps, but I noticed that Richard didn't have that same enthusiasm as he'd exhibited at the beginning of the season. He was grumpy on the course, both with himself and me, I took it on the chin, that was the less glamorous side of being a caddie, you just had to accept that you were the punch bag sometimes.

It got to the stage where I asked him outright if everything was OK, did he want a change of caddie? He reassured me that was the last thing on his mind, he valued my friendship and professionalism and we just had to work through it. Once or twice he and Sandy missed dinner, and on one occasion she came down alone. I asked her if there was a problem, she told me there wasn't, that Richard just felt a bit off. To be fair he was OK the next day and I thought nothing more about it.

However the problem didn't go away, if anything it got worse and despite our friendship, I did entertain some thoughts about switching players, I was always getting good offers, but Richard deserved my loyalty, at least for the time being. I felt us drifting apart, on a personal level it was concerning, but on the golf course it spelled disaster. We even got to the stage where we argued, he'd ignore me then hit a bad shot and blame me.

I tried talking to Sandy, she admitted she and Richard were having similar problems, they didn't talk and when they did they argued. She came very close to tears and I felt very sorry for her, if it came to a head between Richard and me I could find another player, she would be losing her marriage.

Finally came the straw that broke the camel's back, Richard was playing very badly and we were in danger of missing the cut. He played one spectacularly bad shot and snapped his club over his knee and threw the pieces at me. I manged to duck, getting hit on the head by a five iron is no joke, and we had a blazing row there and then. I was conscious of not upsetting our playing partners too much, and was always aware of the television cameras and managed to calm myself, Richard was fuming and we only spoke for the rest of the round to exchange vital information.

He stormed off the course, having made the cut on the mark and I was left to go back to the hotel on my own. I skipped dinner and ate in my room, watching re-runs of our row on the TV, silently wishing I'd handled it better. Finally I got into bed, naked as usual and contemplated having a wank. I just couldn't get my head straight and despite several attempts, gave up in the end. I tossed and turned for a bit, and was finally calming down when there was a light knock on my door.

For a second I thought I'd imagined it, then it came again. Irritated, I put the light on and grabbed my discarded boxers and tugged them on. I opened the door, just putting my head around it, and was totally surprised to see Sandy standing there. She was sobbing and held a handkerchief to her red and wet eyes. "Mark I'm sorry to disturb you, can I come in please." I opened the door fully and invited her in, conscious of my semi-naked state but she seemed not to notice.

"What is it Sandy?"

"Richard and I have had a blazing row and basically he's thrown me out and I've nowhere to go and don't know what to do." Instinctively I pulled her into a hug as fresh sobs broke out again.

"He didn't hurt you did he?" I recalled his temper that afternoon.

"No, but I'm afraid he might he's so out of control." I released her and ushered her in. There was really only the bed to sit on and I guided her to the edges, lowering her down and sitting beside her, trying to maintain a respectable gap between us. Stutteringly she told me the story, breaking down every so often, how Richard had become distant, then cold and finally as he had with me, argumentative and grumpy, culminating in the row that evening. They'd not had sex for months, she claimed and she wondered if he was having an affair. I told her I was fairly positive he wasn't, there just wasn't time to find and form a relationship with another woman in our hectic schedule without me knowing.

She started crying again and I pulled her into me, arms round each other as she sobbed her heart out. I'd never really held her like this before and despite the circumstances I was becoming conscious of my cock growing, after all she was an attractive woman over whom I'd wanked several times and now she was in my arms, her soft body pressing against me.

We broke apart and she looked down, her eyes widening, "Sorry," she said, "have I done that to you?" I looked down to see that my cock had escaped the confines of my boxer flies and was sticking proudly out. Apologising profusely, I tucked it back in as best I could as she finally dragged her eyes away from it.

"Can I stay here tonight," she asked plaintively.

"Of course, I'll sleep in the chair."

"No you can't, you've got to work tomorrow. I'll sleep in the chair." We finally agreed that we'd share the bed, it was pretty large and there was plenty of room to avoid any contact between us. I offered her a clean polo shirt to wear in bed and she went into the bathroom to change, closing the door behind her as I slipped back into bed. There was lots of splashing and toilet flushing, then she reappeared wearing my polo shirt, her breasts clearly unfettered, wobbling beneath it. She was carrying her clothes which she set down then retrieved a small wad.

"Can I put these somewhere to dry, I've rinsed them out?" She smoothed out a pair of panties and hung them over the back of the chair, as my mind registered the fact that she must be completely naked under my shirt. She pulled the covers back and got in, then scooted over to me and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Thank you so much, I'm sorry to burden you like this." I gave her a reassuring pat on the back and we settled down, switching off the light.

I was mindful of her in the bed, she was moving about and still sniffling, then the sniffles became sobs and I turned on the light again. "Come here Sandy, let me hold you." Instantly she was beside me, her body moulding itself to mine, one leg half thrown over mine and I remembered that she had no knickers on and her bare pussy would pretty much be pressing against my leg.

I couldn't help it, my cock reacted as it always did and became rock hard. I tried to pull it away from her but she must have known what it was against her body. Our eyes met and we looked at each other, then without conscious thought on either part, our lips locked and we were kissing passionately, tongues scrabbling in the other's mouth. I felt a hand slip between us and she was holding me, squeezing and rubbing my cock which had once more escaped.

I felt for her breast, my hand closing over it through the polo shirt, feeling the softness of the flesh and the hard lump at its centre. She broke away and I thought for a moment she at least had seen sense, but she just pulled her shirt over her head. There before me were her bare breasts, just as magnificent as I had imagined them, hard nipples, dark against the pale skin. She drew my head down to them and I sucked a nipple into my mouth as I heard her groan with pleasure.

"Love me Mark, fill me up," she murmured drawing me over her body as I felt her legs open. She guided me to her pussy and I felt the head engage and I pushed smoothly in, and then I was fully inside her, embedded deep in her pussy. We began to move, hesitantly at first, then with increasing confidence as we found a rhythm, our bodies clashing as my cock slid in and out of her. She was clawing frantically at my back, fingers digging in like talons. Her mouth sought mine and she mashed them together, frantically seeking something between us.

Harder and faster our bodies slammed together and I could sense my orgasm building. "Sandy," I croaked, "I'm going to cum."

"Yes Mark, cum in me, make me feel wanted." I felt my cock spasm and spurt inside her as the walls of her pussy tightened round me and she cried out, her body writhing under mine as I filled her with pulse after pulse of cum. Finally I was dry and both our bodies relaxed, my weight on top of her, my cock still hard in her pussy. Slowly it softened and slipped out of her, and I rolled off to one side. Immediately she turned away from me and wriggled back, her backside pressing up against me. She found my hand and dragged it round to her breasts and instinctively I cupped one.

"Thank you," she whispered as I turned out the light and cuddled back into her, the warmth from her body enveloping me as I drifted off to sleep.

I woke with the light streaming from behind the curtains. I panicked and looked at the time, relieved that I hadn't overslept, in fact it was still quite early. I turned onto my back as the events of the previous day came back to me, the row with Richard and then Sandy. Sandy! I looked over and saw her lying beside me, her eyes open and watching my face. "Morning," she greeted me, sliding over to nestle into my side and planting a kiss on my lips. "Thank you for last night," she continued as the memory of our love making ran through my mind, "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"No problem, I'm just glad I was able to help in some way. What are you going to do now?"

"Well first I'm going to thank you properly." A hand slid down and grasped my cock, erect as usual first thing in the morning. "I see he's awake already, let me give him a morning kiss as well." She peeled back the covers revealing my erection and leaned forward to take it in her mouth. I groaned at the sensation as her lips closed round it.

"Sandy, you don't have to."

"I know, but I want to." She went to work on it, sliding me in and out of her mouth, the end just brushing against her throat, her tongue swirling round the crown as the waves of pleasure coursed through me. I reached round her bum and found her crease, sliding my hand along it until I came to her pussy which I began to stroke, up and down, gently easing her folds apart until my fingers were brushing up against her pussy entrance.

She was warm and damp and I eased a finger inside. The sensation on my cock ceased and I looked down to see she had released me as a soft moan escaped her lips. "That's nice," she murmured as she took me back inside again. I slid another finger into her and pressed my thumb against her arsehole eliciting another moan. I felt her mouth disengage as she rolled aback, drawing me with her, guiding me between her legs.

My cock was nudging her pussy and I wanted no more than to be inside her again, but managed to resist, just nudging against her pussy as my lips found her nipples and suckled on them, hands fondling and squeezing the soft flesh around them. I showered her breasts in kisses then began to track downwards over her stomach, then lower until I encountered the soft downy curls of her pubes.

I'd not seen her pussy the night before and now I gazed at it, she was neatly trimmed, just a small triangle of pubic hair, surmounting her clitoral hood from which peeked her clit itself, a small bud, then below that her outer labia, darker and nestling between them, her inner lips. They were delicate and thin, just tinged dark at the edges, already glistening with moisture.

Reverently I placed a kiss over her pussy, then extending my tongue, traced upwards to her clit and flicked at that. She gasped and I played with that for a while before sliding my tongue back down her slit, probing and pushing in hard. She tasted musky, and I realised I was probably tasting my own cum, then there was a surge of fresh pussy juice and I lapped readily at it. Her hands grasped the sides of my head and pulled me in tighter to her as I buried my face fully into her core.

"So good," she cooed as she continued to rub against me. I returned to her clit and slid two fingers into her, feeling her pussy open up, warm, soft and wet inside. I sawed them in and out, corkscrewing round, then I felt her body tense and her hands pulled me hard against her and my mouth was flooded with her love juices as her body shook and shuddered.

She stilled and I slid back up her body, kissing her breasts on the way up as our mouths met. "I can taste myself on you." she said, "Sorry, I do get a bit wet sometimes when I get licked, although that hasn't happened for a while." She reached between us and found my cock and guided it to her pussy. I slid in, relishing the velvety feel as our bodies met and began to roll against each other.

"This is wrong," she said, and I wondered what she meant, "I should be the one doing the work." With that she rolled out from under me, my cock slipping out from her, as she sat astride me, then once more I was buried in her sweet pussy as she lowered herself down onto me. I gazed up at her, taking in her breasts sitting proudly on her chest, topped by dark hard nipples, then her flat stomach and her pubic triangle. I could see my cock sliding between her pussy lips as she rode me, taking me in deep before releasing me then back in again.

I reached up to cup her breasts, my thumbs grazing over her nipples, sending little shivers through her. She covered my hands with hers, pulling me tight against her as she continued to undulate her hips, our bodies moving gently together. I found the sight highly arousing and was beginning to feel my orgasm brewing. "Sandy," I started.