God I Love Golf

It's hard enough to swing a graphite shaft driver. You should try it with a set of boobs on your chest. That was something I kept bringing up to my husband as we started a round at the Blackhawk Golf Course in Galena, a most demanding track. We're ok on the opening par 4, it's pretty open. It got dicey on the second, the trees to the right but if he thought I could avoid fading it into the deep timber on Number Three, he had another thought coming. I know I certainly did, have that other thought and it was all about him coming.

Sure enough that ball sailed way right, the advantage of putting a little extra outside in action on a swing. Good thing we'd been the last group off that Sunday evening, me not wanting to hold anybody up while we both searched for a lost ball. Way right, through the trees, down an incline into some sort of little ravine. All the way out of sight of the fairway and there it lay. What an absolutely perfect lie.

The perfect lie, ideal for me to take a look at it, two looks around and turn to my husband. One tug on the tie of my halter, one pull at the string on my skirt and only a pair of panties was between him and a good time. No need to worry about spikes, not at that moment, I'd have plenty of grip real soon. Maybe he's not the most accurate iron in the bag but he did manage to figure out the plan without too much encouragement. His wife wanted banged and I wanted it right then and there.

Two steps and my arms were draped around his shoulders. One tug and my underpants were off. One pull on the zipper and his cock nearly exploded out of his pants. One grunt and we were going at it, standing in the woods, banging like there was no tomorrow. His cock went deep, deeper than when we missionary as I pressed my body down to get every fraction of it into me. I threw my head back, groaned once and realized we were not alone.

Jesus Christ, I've got a pair of spikes and socks on, my husband's pecker full length inside me and there was another couple not fifty yards away fucking like there was no tomorrow. I about shit but I wasn't going to stop. I got my husband to turn as he hammered away, me holding on and him oblivious, so I could get it and watch it too. Damn, they knew how to screw.

I couldn't believe I hadn't seen them or they didn't see us but there they were, her dress pushed up around her breasts, bra open but not off, his pants down and hammering away. I came just watching her get it, let alone with my husband doing the deed. That other couple had been like six groups ahead of us. They must have finished Number 7, the par 5, and had some distance before the next group. Judging by what I was witnessing, this boy had the distance himself.

My husband's cock head was beginning to flower and that other guy was still nailing the bitch. God, I hated her, big lungs like that and that flat little tummy. They must have been 36D's, still young and firm, her nipples a sweet pink. Not like these droopy things I carry. I felt my husband come and that guy kept going. Damn those young people, they can go all night. We slumped down to the grass, come running out of and jealousy running through me. That other couple would probably still be screwing by the time we got around.

That was a hell of a thing to think about when I should have been concentrating on keeping the grip in my fingers. No wonder I put a bogey on the card on Number 4 and missed that ten footer for bird on Number 5. It wasn't any consolation my husband wasn't playing well either. Getting pussy didn't seem to help his short game, if you know what I mean. Not that it mattered. All I could think about was that other couple. Her.

Not that I'm a lesbian, don't get me wrong. Never have, probably never will. I'm a straight girl who likes being cocked, but there was just something totally, completely erotic about seeing another woman doing the deed. Another woman as brazen as I was to take on our men in the great outdoors. Then there were those boobs. If I've got that much trouble swinging a club with mine, I couldn't image her keeping it on the fairway. No wonder she found the woods. No wonder I couldn't make bird to save my life.

On and on I trudged, pounding away at a Titleist about twice as hard as the husband pounded away at me. I was sleepwalking through Ten, Eleven and the easy bird at Twelve. Bogey at Thirteen, mediocre drive at Fourteen and I just couldn't stop thinking about the show. She had the body, he had the talent, they were a couple and I was going into heat. Me into heat and not a place in sight to take care of it, talk about a pisser. Enough to make me take too much club, overshoot the green and there she was.

There they were, both of them, apparently having let the other groups play through. Him grinning and her, the bitch, giving us a smile as she wiped off her lips. Shit, she'd blown him, I knew it. God, I was in total heat, I knew my nipples were busting, my panties were wet and she'd blown him behind one of those trees. Me, married to a stiff who hates the concept of my lips on his cock, her getting and now giving. No wonder I couldn't get up and down for par, I was too busy getting up.

God, I hope David and Ann, the stallion and his woman, enjoyed playing out the round with us. I was going berserk, I admit it. Every time she'd take a swing, I'd be thinking about the woods. Every time I followed through, I knew my nipples were busting out of the halter. No need to keep a card, they'd already scored and I needed to, real bad. It was beyond belief, actually having seen another couple doing it making me insane. Just don't ask how we played, it didn't matter. All that I cared about was one last sense of timing.

That all took place years ago, long before I became the gray haired granny I am today, but the husband mentions it every once in a while. Not that he ever figured it out. It wasn't like we stayed in touch with David and Ann, never did see them again, but the day apparently was quite memorable. To the husband it was the evening I had to drive him home, the poor guy all exhausted. Me, just something that all worked out.

David and Ann had sense enough to toss their sticks in the trunk and say good bye. The pro was leaving, the grounds crew long gone. Darkness was almost fallen, we're the only car in the parking lot and there's nobody around but us. My dear husband and me, the woman with the nipples stuck straight out. The woman with one question left to be resolved. A curiosity needing to be answered.

Well, what do you know, you can bang in the back seat of a Ford Maverick. Ain't golf great?