Golf is among the most challenging avocations I've ever encountered. With all the challenges golf presents it's hard to believe it's a sport or even fun. Where's the sport in hitting a ball that's not even moving? For example, how hard is it to miss a ball perched absolutely still on a stand with a huge club? Doesn't seem possible but I've managed to do it, more than once. How difficult is it rolling a ball into a hole in the ground that's more than two and a half times the size of the ball? Well, I've missed that stupid hole more often than not, even from less than a foot away. What sense does it make to practice hitting the ball as many times as you can and then the player that hits it the least number of times wins and when your play isn't up to par you qualify as a pro. Finally, whatever your score, someone wants to compare it to every other score in the world and make you feel like shit about how bad a player you are.
Why do I play golf? Why does anyone play golf? Golf does have some benefits, mostly not part of the game at all. Golf courses are outside. Golf courses are among the most beautiful parks in the country. If you enjoy being outdoors, golf is a natural hobby, until it rains. Also, golf as a sport doesn't rely on physical fitness. You stand still next to your ball on the ground and take a swing at it with a long handled club that doesn't require you to bend over very far to reach the ball and then you ride in a cart to wherever it went. And, driving the cart is actually fun.
Golf is also an excuse to get out of the house for six hours or more. You can drink beer and smoke cigars, even before noon. All things that are frowned upon at home. You can also bet on the outcome. When was the last time you bet on anything at home?
Another benefit, you get to meet interesting people.
My name is Vince. My wife and I have a small business making and supplying parts for pantographs. In its simplest form, a pantograph allows an operator to draw, write or trace something and the pantograph creates a copy in a different size. More complex pantographs reproduce a person's movements at a different location.
The company has eight employees, including myself, my wife, Jennifer and my best friend, Jerry. I'm the owner, Chief Executive Officer and president, Jenny is the Chief Financial Officer and Jerry the Chief Technical Officer. The other five employees manage the sales, production and shipping of product. It's taken me, and Jenny, the better part of eight years to build the company to where it just about runs itself. Jenny and I draw a large six-figure salary from the company and Jerry receives a similar salary. That means, at just thirty-two years old, we live mostly stress free lives.
The result is that we have a large amount of free time. Jerry and I play golf every Tuesday afternoon. We have a standing tee time at The Club at noon. It takes us about five hours to play eighteen holes and, if you add time after the game for a beer or two in the lounge, we're usually home by six-thirty or seven.
The golf course at The Club is a wide spread design that wanders through almost five hundred acres of prime forest. The holes are surrounded by trees and the tees are mostly invisible from the previous green. No matter how busy the course is, you feel as if you're the only people on the course which eliminates much of the embarrassment of playing.
Tuesdays usually aren't very busy at The Club, so we often play with just the two of us. Recently, however, Jerry and I were paired with another couple on the first tee. It was unusual and we usually decline the pairing when, Dutch, the starter, suggests it. However, I took one glance at Dutch's suggested pairing this time and accepted for both of us.
The pair in the other cart were both women. Not just women, attractive women. Standing next to their cart, they were a striking pair. The blonde was about five-ten, sported long legs and a chest large enough to be in the way when she swung a golf club. I knew this because she was wearing a low, scooped neck, white, sleeveless top and a short, white mini-skirt. If she were to bend over, I was sure I would also be able to report the color of her panties. The brunette was slightly shorter and similarly attired in a pale blue outfit. Her chest was smaller, but only slightly so. They were both older than Jerry or I. Maybe in their early forties but I didn't judge that in thinking it would be fun to play with them, all four of them.
The blonde introduced herself as Marylyn when she shook my hand, firmly. Blair shook my hand limply, with her hand curled over mine. Somehow, she managed to tickle my palm when she shook my hand.
Jerry and I usually play from the men's tees. The men's tees at The Club were just over 6600 yards. I offered the women the opportunity to play from a shorter tee but they both demurred suggesting that the men's tees were just fine for them. Ever the gentlemen, we allowed the women to tee off first.
Dutch walked over to me while the women were warming up. "No one has a tee time this afternoon. You've got the course to yourselves. Have fun," he said with a wink.
It was a beautiful sight, watching the women set up and swing at their golf balls. The way their breasts lagged slightly behind their bodies as they swung and then bounced as they caught up with the rest of their body, was mesmerizing. Both of them hit drives near the center of the fairway and over 200 yards out.
Jerry and I took our turns. We easily outdrove the women but we were both in the rough, Jerry on the right and me on the left. I'd like to tell you that the memory of watching the women swing interfered with our drives but that would be misleading. Drives in the rough were usual for us.
Both the women were on the green with their second shots. It took me two more shots to reach the green and Jerry needed three shots. The women finished the first hole with pars, I had a bogey and Jerry a double bogey. Just to be polite, I asked if the women would like me to keep score.
"I'd love it if you'd score," said Marylyn. Ignoring the possible double entendre, I recorded two fours, a five and a six.
We followed the women in our cart, through the trees, over a short wooden bridge, to the second tee. The day was beautiful, the air warm with a slight breeze when we reached the tee. Marylyn got out of her cart and walked back to ours. She leaned in over Jerry and suggested, "Guys, I think it would be fun if we switched the carts a little. I could ride with Vince and Jerry could ride with Blair. What do you think?"
How to answer her without seeming too enthusiastic. "Sounds good to me," I said. Jerry just sat quietly, afraid to move since Marylyn's breasts hung over his face as she leaned into the cart.
We juggled the golf bags around. Marylyn drove our cart. It was a decision driven by safety. I was concerned I might drive over a cliff while preoccupied looking at Marylyn's body. I think similar precautions were in play when Blair settled in to drive Jerry's cart.
On the tee, Marylyn suggested a wager. After watching them play the first hole, neither Jerry nor I were interested in emptying our wallets to the ladies. "Okay, then, Marylyn said sadly, "Let's just play golf."
The second hole was better than the first. Both Jerry and I pared the hole as did Blair. Marylyn, however, had a birdie. I wrote down three fours and a three.
The third hole at The Club is a 167 yard, par 3. "Closest to the hole?" suggested Marylyn determined to bet on something. A dozen things I'd like to have close to the hole went through my mind, none of them had anything to do with golf. "No thanks," I replied not willing to risk losing.
Marylyn hit first. Her ball landed on the front of the green and rolled across the green until it stopped about three feet from the pin. Blair's shot was on the green but not close. I followed with a huge slice that bounced off a tree and ricocheted to the green with a possibility of a birdie putt. Jerry's try landed short of the green. We carded a two, two threes and a four for the hole.
Three holes played and I was already losing to both women and down three strokes to one of them.
The ride to the fourth tee at The Club is very long. As we bounced through the forest on the way to the fourth tee, I was mesmerized by the way Marylyn's breasts jiggled with every bump. Marylyn slowed the cart and eventually stopped it allowing Blair and Jerry to pass us.
"What are you looking at?" she asked.
Surprised at the question and afraid to give a truthful answer, I answered, "Nothing."
"Are my boobs nothing?" Marylyn asked.
Busted, I sat speechless in the cart.
"You were looking at my boobs, right?" Marylyn pressed.
I nodded.
"Don't be so bashful. You're a guy and guys generally look at my boobs. I'm not upset." She pushed out her chest. "Have a good look," she offered.
"Thanks," I said with a smile.
"You're welcome," Marylyn answered. "So, is there a problem with my boobs?" Marylyn continued.
Not wanting to give the honest answer, I struggled for an alternative. "I was wondering, don't your boobs get in the way when you swing the club?"
"Really? That's what you were thinking?"
"Yeah. Don't they restrict your arm movements when you address the ball?"
Not happy with my answer, Marylyn stepped on the gas and we caught up to Blair and Jerry on the fourth tee. Marylyn had the honor on the par five hole. She stood over her ball for longer than usual and, when she swung, she looked stiff and her ball traveled about 150 yards down the left side and into the rough. Blair hit a decent shot and I landed in the fairway.
While we were waiting for Jerry to tee off, Marylyn looked at me and said, "You screwed up my mind. All I could think about was whether my boobs were interfering with my swing. You saw the result. I think I should get a mulligan."
Without explaining why, I told Jerry and Blair that Marylyn was taking a mulligan. Neither commented as we watched Marylyn try to get comfortable with her boobs before she swung. She wasn't having much success. I walked up on the tee next to her. "What's the problem?"
"I can't get the idea that my boobs are in the way out of my head," Marylyn said frustrated.
"Maybe it's not your boobs restricting your swing," I suggested with my fingers crossed.
"What else could it be?" Marylyn asked perfectly.
"Maybe it's your bra. It's pretty tight and it could be restricting your ability to swing through the ball."
I went back to our cart and waited.
Marylyn tested a number of further positions and swings. "Maybe you're right," she called to me.
Marylyn walked over to the cart and stood beside me. She reached behind her back and then twisted and wiggled her body until she was able to modestly remove her bra. She handed it to me. "Take care of this for me," she said and went back up on the tee. I tucked her bra into the shelf in the front of the cart.
Her practice swings were a thing of beauty, not necessarily good golf shots but certainly entertaining. When she finally hit the ball, it traveled further and straighter than any of her other shots. Her ball wasn't the only thing that flew out of sight. As she swung, her breasts peeked out of the arm opening in her sleeveless top and disappeared again when she settled down.
By the time we finished the hole, Marylyn had another birdie, the rest of us had bogeys and I had a hard on.
Back in the cart, following Blair and Jerry to the fifth hole, Marylyn thanked me for the suggestion. She told me she felt so loose that her swing was natural. "I'll bet if I could play naked, I'd have my best round ever."
There was no way I could respond to that comment without getting into trouble.
"That's not realistic," Marylyn continued. "Playing naked, that is."
"True," I said sadly.
Whether it was deliberate or not, Marylyn's mini-skirt had slid up on her thighs and her white panties were visible with the darker shadow of her mons beneath them. In the middle of another wooden bridge, Marylyn stopped the cart again.
"What are you looking at this time?" she asked as if she couldn't figure it out.
"Well," I said. "Last time it was your boobs. This time its your..." and I pointed to her exposed panties.
