Dic Out!

"This dollar says you miss that putt," John said, waving a crinkled dollar bill as George stands over a 6-footer. George glared at John for breaking his concentration, then re-focused and drilled the putt into the back of the cup.

"Pay up bitch!" George said with a grin, snatching the dollar from John as the walked toward the 15th tee.

John thought all the rain would have slowed the greens down, and he was hoping to cut his losses, as George had just closed him out 5-and-4 in their weekly match.

This is how it went most weeks. John and George were weekend duffers with similar handicaps, and they loved to bet each other on the golf course. They usually played with two other guys in their usual foursome, but the weather report said 80% of rain, so it was just John and George who showed up this morning, when it was only sprinkling. The rain had picked up steadily as they played each hole, and they were soaking wet when they made the turn about an hour ago.

"Why don't you two give up so I can go home?" Stephanie asked when they stopped in the club house to replenish their cooler after the 9th hole. Stephanie was in her mid-twenties, blonde with a huge rack and a slim waist.

"No way," John replied eagerly, "our match is all square and he's going down on the back nine!"

"After I make you my bitch," George countered, "you'll be the one who's going down!"

John looked at George and swore he saw a little twinkle in his eye as he delivered this witty retort. John's cock twitched in his damp golf shorts, but he convinced himself that Stephanie's low cut tank top was the cause, as she was bending over to pack their cooler with 12 more beers. Since the weather was so shitty and it was a holiday weekend, John and George were drinking right along, having already killed a 12-pack on the front nine. The buzz they were both feeling only increased their verbal sparring and the things they would find themselves betting on.

"Thanks Steph!" they called almost in unison as they walked back out into the rain to continue their round.

"I wish she'd go down on me," John said to George, nodding back toward the club house.

"I wish SOMEONE would go down on me," George replied with a laugh, "I can't remember the last time I got head from Rose."

That was 5 holes and 8 beers ago, and in between the betting and drinking, the conversation centered on which one of them actually had the worse sex life.

Rose, of course, is George's wife. They have lived down the road from John and his wife, Pam, since their kids were small. The couples were very close and the families always seemed to be at one or the other of their houses for dinner as their kids grew up and proceeded through school together. Now that their kids were all packed off to college, the couples did not get together as often.

"I just never thought I'd be still jerking off when I was 45," George said to John, explaining how Rose is never in the mood anymore, as he pulled his driver out of his bag.

"Well, I'll be 50 this year and am still jerking off regularly, so it looks like we're in the same boat," John replied, grabbing his driver and walking up to the 15th tee behind George, admiring George's broad shoulders and slim waist as they both climbed the small hill to the tee box. John was once again aware that his cock was stiffening, but again he chalked it up to the beers and all the sex talk.

"Speaking of boats, this dollar says you're going to need one to retrieve your tee shot," George said to John, waving the crinkled dollar at him and pointing to the large water hazard that spanned the fairway about 150 yards away.

"Fuck you!" John replied jokingly, glad that the challenge diverted him from thinking about George's athletic frame any longer.

George stood about 6-foot-2, and hadn't gained a pound since he was a two-sport letterman in college. John, on the other hand, had been heavy his whole life, carrying 250 pounds on his 5-foot-9 frame. Both men were happy to still have all their hair, John's being mostly white, and George's showing just a few grey strands in his curly, black mop. John was a relentless flirt with a good sense of humor, so he never had problems with the ladies before getting married. George had no problem earlier in his life either, as he was an incredibly handsome man.

"Thank you!" John said sarcastically, snatching the dollar from George, after his tee shot successfully carried the water hazard, landing right in the middle of the fairway. "This dollar says it's your shot that lands in Davy Jones' locker," John countered, as George addressed his ball.

"SHIT!" hollered George, as he hits his tee shot fat and his ball lands in the middle of the pond with a huge splash.

"Why couldn't you fall apart earlier?" John asked through his laughter, watching George fish another dollar out of his pocket, along with another golf ball. Stepping forward to collect the dollar, John found himself looking at the unmistakable outline of George's cock under his drenched khaki shorts. Looking up to take the dollar, John sees that familiar glint in George's eyes again, and he wonders if he got caught peeking.

"There's still a lot of golf to play," George said with a grin, after re-teeing and crushing a huge drive that landed in the fairway, about 50 yards ahead of John's ball.

Getting into the cart, John handed George a fresh beer, and they toasted to blow jobs as they drove through the steady rain to their golf balls.

With about 180 yards to the green, John crushes a 3-wood and the ball whistles through the rain drops, bouncing twice and landing about 12 feet from the pin.

"Nice shot!" said George from behind him, "this dollar says I still beat you on this hole."

Turning toward George, trying to think of a witty come back, John instead exclaimed "WHAT THE FUCK?"

"When you gotta go, you gotta go," laughed George, as he stood in the middle of the fairway taking a piss. "It's not like there's anyone else on the course today!"

For what seemed like several long moments, John found himself staring at the huge slab of man-meat that was hanging out of George's shorts. It was easily over six inches, and thick, with a golf-ball sized head. At peak erection, John's cock was only five inches at best, and not very thick. All his life he's had penis envy, and can't help but slip into a jealous stare at the sight of a well-endowed cock. To add insult to injury, John also has a secret piss fetish, so he could feel his own cock hardening at the sight of his friend relieving himself just a few feet from him. He was hoping that George couldn't see the small pup-tent rising in John's black golf shorts as he watched.

"Why'd you bother even taking it out?" were the words John finally choked out, trying to break his gaze from George's crotch. "We're so wet that I wouldn't have noticed if you pissed yourself," John continued, walking back to their cart to put his club away, his fetish conjuring images of how good it would feel to release his bladder and fill his shorts with his own hot piss.

"Maybe I wanted you to notice," quipped George, tucking his cock back into his shorts and stepping up to hit his next shot.

"Did I just hear that correctly?" John thought to himself, wondering if George really meant it or if it was just more mindless ball busting. Those words and the water sports images still rushing through John's head were not doing anything to help reduce his now aching hard-on, and he put his hand in his pocket to try and casually adjust himself to a more comfortable position.

"Grab my putter too," said George, after hitting a perfect approach shot which landed on the green two feet from the pin, as he turned and caught John in mid-adjustment.

"There's that twinkle again," thought John, wondering if he was just drunk, of if George was actually flirting with him. John knew that he was not gay, and he was pretty sure that George wasn't either, but for some odd reason, George was uncharacteristically flirting, and John was finding it very alluring.

As they drove to the green, it seemed that George was now sitting closer to John in the cart, and the aroma of George's cologne seemed to be adding to John's intoxication. He downed the rest of his beer in one gulp.

"How's it feel to have me inside you?" George asked with a wink as they parked near the green. John wash hoping he was just referring to his ball being much closer to the pin than John's, but that wink made him wonder.

"Just get my dollar ready," replied John, trying to concentrate back on golf. "I'm lying two and you're lying four," John added with an air of cockiness, knowing that even with George's tap-in, John only needed to 3-putt to continue his mini-winning streak.

Standing next to each other behind the cart taking their putters out of their bags, George and John accidentally bumped into each other, and John actually shuddered as an unexpected shiver of electricity ran down his spine and through the length of his cock from the contact. John's heart was still beating rapidly as he stood over his putt, which caused him to hit the ball too hard, rolling it 5 feet past the hole.

"You didn't lose your turn," teased George, noting that John was still away.

Trying to calm himself down, John hit his next put too softly, and it stopped 3 inches from the cup.

"I think you want to be my bitch," George said, again with a wink, casually tapping in his 2-foot putt without even addressing the ball.

"Hold on a minute," John snapped back, visibly getting flustered, "you bet that you would BEAT me on this hole, I still win if we tie. We're playing by the rules still, aren't we?"

"You're good," George said while holding out a dollar smugly, the joy of watching John blow an easy par situation worth the price, "if that's what I said, then a bet is a bet."

"I'm better than good," John instinctively replied, then blushed, realizing he was now flirting back. As John bent down to pick up the conceded putt, he found himself at eye level with George's crotch, where his cock seemed to be pressing against the wet khaki material. John stood up quickly and walked back to the cart without making eye contact with George, fearful of seeing that gleam in his eyes again. He quickly cracked another beer.

The 16th hole was a 160-yard par-3. John hit first and put his ball on the green, battling not only the constant rain, but now the straining issue in his shorts. George was up next, and he topped his tee shot, dribbling the ball just 30-yards in front of him.

Without thinking, John immediately yelled "Dick Out!" the supposed punishment when someone's ball doesn't make it past the ladies' tees. Although, it's a rule that nobody ever enforces. John watched in a mixture of horror and amazement, as George unzipped his fly and started fishing around in his pants.

"You don't have to do that," John said, a hint of disappointment in his voice, thinking George was again just busting his balls.

"Hey, the rules are the rules, right?" responded George, as he flopped his cock out again. It looked even longer to John this time, and slightly thicker, as it stood out a little straighter from his crotch.

"Put that thing away before getting in this cart," John demanded, unsure what he might do if he found himself in such close quarters to George and his cock. John finished another beer as he watched George walk the 30-yards up to his ball to hit his second shot, his cock bouncing and getting harder with each step. Adhering to the letter of the rules, George hit his next shot with his dick out, landing his ball on the green.

George zipped up and walked over to the cart, leaning on John for an uncomfortably long time as he turned in the seat to retrieve a fresh beer from the cooler in the back. Driving to the green, John couldn't get the image of George's cock out of his mind, and he wasn't sure if it was due to his penis envy, or something else. They both finished the hole with pars, George rattling John with just a simple smile, forcing him to 2-putt.

As they approached the 17th hole, a long par-5 lined with trees, John was thinking to himself "two more holes and then I can get myself home and jerk off." John hit a beautiful tee shot that landed to the right of the fairway. George hit his tee shot, which looked good coming off his club, but then started slicing to the right. It crossed the tree line almost 100 yards down the fairway while it was still about 30 feet in the air, and was going in hot.

"It kicked out!" George said excitedly.

"Bullshit," replied John, knowing that George could barely see beyond 50 yards without his glasses, that he only seemed to wear while driving. Besides, it's highly unlikely that the ball would kick out entering the woods so high and so hot.

"It kicked out I tell ya," George repeated stubbornly.

"If that ball kicked out, *I'LL* give you a blow job," John offered in response, then thought curiously about what he just said, hoping that George knew he was only kidding. John found himself saying a silent prayer in his head as they drove slowly up the tree line looking for George's ball.

"There it is!" were the words that John was hoping not to hear, as the cart pulled up next to the Titleist Pro-V1 with marked with three red dots, leaving no doubt that George's ball had indeed kicked out of the woods. John pulled out his phone and pretended to be checking for messages as George got out of the cart. John was avoiding eye contact and conversation, his idiotic promise echoing through his head.

"Why would I say that?" John thought to himself, "and what am I going to do if he presses me to pay up?" The internal alarm clock in John's head was going off. Plenty of time had passed for George to select a club and hit his second shot, but John was sure he didn't hear the rattling of clubs in his golf bag, or the swoosh and ping of a club striking a ball. Giving into curiosity, John glanced over to where they found the ball, and there stood George, with his cock hanging out of his shorts again, slowly rubbing his shaft.

"I'm ready whenever you are big man," George called to John, who just sat in the cart like a deer caught in headlights.

"You didn't think I was serious," John replied incredulously, "you KNOW I was joking, right?"

"Hey, a bet's a bet," George said with a smile, still slowly rubbing his cock.

As John was searching for something to say to get out of this situation, there was a sudden flash of lightning, and a huge clap of thunder, indicating that the center of the storm was immediately above them. Without bothering to tuck himself back in, George jumped in the cart and John took off for the storm shelter they passed just before the 17th tee. Driving like mad over the bumpy fairway amid the thunder and lightning, John couldn't help but sneak a few peaks at George's cock as it stood out from his shorts, bouncing and twitching along with the cart.

Safely in the storm shelter, John turned to George and said, "OK, the joke's over, now put that thing away."

"We are still playing by the rules, aren't we?" replied George, using John's own words to indicate just how serious he was. He had seen the way John had been looking at his cock all day, mistaking his jealous and envious stares as genuine interest.

John was dumbfounded, lost for what to do next. He prided himself on promptly paying his debts, and had little tolerance for welchers. He never considered having sexual relations with another man, but on the other hand, he couldn't deny that George's cock was indeed magnificent, and found himself thinking about what it would feel like to take it into his mouth. He knew they would be waiting in the shelter a long time before the lightning storm passed, and he also knew there was nobody else on the course.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?" John asked, almost in a dream state, resigned to the fact that he had no choice but to keep his word.

George just smiled and winked, and there was that twinkle again in his eyes, making John weak at the knees, and the next think he knew he was kneeling in front of George holding his erect cock in his hand. George's cock smelled of his cologne, and it was much bigger up close, and felt very heavy in John's hand. John's fist was wrapped around the base, yet there was still a good five inches of shaft sticking straight out of his hand, pointing directly at his face. John closed his eyes and reminded of the number of times he would watch porn and secretly wish that he had a cock that big. Today it seems, his wish had come true, finally holding a porn-star sized cock in the palm of his hand.

John's eyes flashed open as he heard George hiss from a quick in-take of breath, and he saw that the reason was that John's subconscious must have taken over while his eyes were closed, and the head of George's cock now rested on the flat bed of John's tongue. John felt the salty taste spread across his tongue and realized that George's cock was leaking pre-cum. The taste was not at all unpleasant, so John leaned his head forward, taking more of George into his mouth, closing his lips around the shaft as he did. The head of George's cock nudged the back of John's throat, and he fought off a gag reflex, as he slowly pulled his head back, so only the head was left in his mouth.

"More tongue," George whispered from above, causing John to chuckle to himself, as this was the usual request he made of Pam on those rare occasions when she would agree to give John a blow job. Still holding his massive root at the base, John started swirling his tongue around the bulbous head, eliciting a moan from above. George's moan helped ease the embarrassment of the situation, and John started sucking up and down George's shaft with more enthusiasm, swirling his tongue all over the sensitive head and the underside of his shaft.

John's hand moved easily up and down the length of shaft that would not fit in his mouth, as George's cock and John's hand were thoroughly soaked from being in the rain all day. John realized the thunderstorm must have passed, as the only sounds he heard now were the slurping noises that his mouth was making as it slid up and down George's shaft. Knowing it was now safe to either continue their round, or quit and drive back to the club house, John could have easily stood up and put a halt to this ridiculous situation, pretending he was just calling George's bluff. But the truth was that John was really enjoying the feeling of George's heavy cock on his tongue, and the musky aroma of cologne, sweat and piss that was filling his nostrils, as he breathed through his nose, since his mouth was full of his good friend's cock. The intense erection in his own shorts left no doubt that John was going to see this through to the end, concentrating on giving a better blow job than Pam or anyone had ever given him.

While still bobbing on George's cock, John reached up to undo his belt and unbutton the waistband of his shorts. Opening his shorts, John released his lip-lock on George's cock long enough to push his shorts and boxers down to his ankles. As George clumsily tried to extract his feet though the mess of twisted wet shorts and underwear, he fell back on the wooden bench in the shelter. John yanked the wet material off over his golf shoes, and crawled back between George's legs, resting his elbows on his muscular and hairy thighs. Pushing George's cock up against his belly, John flattened his tongue and took a long slow lick up the underside of his shaft, dragging the tip of his tongue through is piss slit when he got up to the head. John repeated this process a half dozen more times, licking a little lower each time, to where he was now sucking one of George's balls into his hungry mouth before beginning the next long, slow lick. The moans from above were letting John know he was doing a good job, and he was shocked when he felt George's hands running through is soaked white hair.