After two months, I was eight pounds lighter, all fantasied up and ready to begin. My friends' wives knew that I was searching for a lady golfer, but they were unaware that I was more interested in the woman's ass than her handicap. They served up a number of names, many that I recognized.
My first date was Jill, a stylish attractive redhead with a lean, fit body. Jill had money and you easily saw that she invested a lot of it in her appearance. She was articulate, bright, beautifully dressed and had clubs that were much nicer than mine. Since we had met several times before, there was no need for a get to know you coffee or other icebreaker. We met at the course and played.
After four hours on the course, we had a nice time talking. She had been divorced for more than ten years; her husband, a tycoon type, had left her. I thought I knew why; she was distant and conceited, and I thought that she kind of looked down her nose at me. But, we both played well and were compatible on the course, so despite my doubts, I was surprised at the invitation to her house for a drink that evening. She said she had a really nice time and looked forward to seeing me.
As I drove to her beautiful four bedroom home, which I thought was ostentatiously big, I said to myself, this might be it. I had learned tongue exercises on the internet that I tried every day, and I was hoping that my newly fit tongue might be ready for its first action.
As I entered the house, Jill was dressed in a sexy, soft white shirt that was buttoned between her neck and cleavage. She had long, loose black pants. She looked sophisticated, successful, but signaled the same aloofness. After a hug and a chaste kiss, she offered a nice goblet of Malbec, a wine that I mentioned on the course. I'll skip the next 30 minutes and get to our first real kiss on the sofa. She smelled like coconut and I liked it. One or two kisses later, I reached out and touched her breast. It wasn't planned; I had been kissing the same woman for 35 years and reaching for a breast was a natural reaction.
Jill stiffened, sat straight up and said, "I like you but I would like to go slow." This from a woman divorced for ten years speaking to a man whose schedule contemplated anal sex on a first date. Now, I knew I might be stretching it, but this pace would not cut it. After 15 minutes, I excused myself.
When Jill called the next day to suggest another round of golf, I found an excuse and she got the hint. When the woman that fixed us up asked, "What the hell is a matter with you?", I replied that I got more action in junior high, when my erection wasn't up against such a tight deadline. That ended her matchmaking for me, but I figured she must be piece of marble in bed, too.
I had never met my next date, Nancy. Another wife of a friend set it up. We met at Starbucks and I spent a great hour talking with her. She was cute with short dark hair, a little tousled and casual and she had a smile that matched her active sense of humor. She was curvy with outstanding big boobs. She said she loved playing golf and we set up a date for two days later. I couldn't wait especially after our departing hug and peck; she made sure she pushed those delightful boobs right into my arm and chest.
Nancy was a sensational lady, but I was shallow, I was wrong, and I admit it. But, when it took her eleven shots to get to the front of the first green, I knew this relationship could not continue. I loved seeing those tits swaying, but only when she was taking practice swings. The beauty of those tits did not outweigh the ugliness of her golf game.
We quit after nine because she was embarrassed, rightfully so, and she sensed my frustration. But, I was honest. I told her that she was lovely and fun, but I really wanted a golf companion and she was not yet a golfer. "Maybe you could get some lessons", I suggested. She got a little pissed and said that if golf was all I cared about, I should date a South Korean. I told you she had a sense of humor.
Two up, two down, not laid and no outlet for a tongue that I feared might get muscle bound. So, after learning about golf dating sites in a magazine, I registered for one and quickly found an attractive candidate who lived nearby. Lynn seemed to be a cute blonde, 56 years old, and allegedly a decent golfer. I reached out to her and we made a date at, where else, Starbucks.
I immediately recognized her and said she looked just like her picture. She replied that I looked better than my picture and I immediately conceded that it was easy to tell who had more courtesy and charm. She had a winning laugh and a winning smile, and things were starting out well. I liked her short blond hair, blue eyes and wholesome, pleasing look. She was petite and flat chested, but when she got up to put milk in her coffee, I checked out a shapely butt that was wonderfully large as compared to the rest of her.
Immediately, it hit me; I was going to ignore tits entirely because ass was the key to my fantasies. This was getting better and better.
We talked about our lives. She divorced 15 months ago after her shit of her husband left her for a younger woman. The upside of the divorce was that it brought her very close to her daughter; they had been estranged for about two years. My sense was that she was completely over her husband, and I was surprised when she said, "I gave that bastard everything I had, and he ditched me." Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I interpreted everything to include what she did in bed, and I was hoping she was going to give some of that everything to me. She had a melancholy, worldly smile and a way of carrying herself that really appealed to me.
After an hour, I proposed that we meet for golf, and that she bring a change of clothes. "If our day is a bust, I know we'll be honest with each other and go our own way. I don't think that will happen, so then we can go to dinner. You can shower and change in the ladies' locker room, or if you feel comfortable, change at my place. There's plenty of room and you will have privacy." She readily accepted and I made a 1:30 tee time two days later.
I was hopeful that my golfing sexual escapade was about to begin.
Lynn arrived in a sleeveless golf top and one of those short golf skirts that kind of had shorts underneath. Stylish and showing about as much as you can while being properly dressed. She played quickly and pretty well, keeping the ball in play and clearing almost all of the water holes that are so prevalent in Florida. We played little games of who would get it closer and she liked to high five the good shots. When I sunk a long birdie putt, I got both a high five and a hug. The tits were small, but I managed the tiniest of ass grabs, and it felt nice and firm. She was all smiles.
On the sixteenth tee, it started to rain and we stayed in the cart to wait it out. She asked me what I was looking for in a woman. I told her that I had thought very carefully about that question for weeks, and that she had the qualities I was looking for, golf, the right age, right look and I felt very comfortable and at ease with her. Since I was so at ease, I decided to swing for the fences.
"Look," I said, "After 35 years of being with one woman, experimenting and expanding my sexual horizons are important. I won't deny it and I hope you are not offended but I feel comfortable explaining this to you."
"Well, what type of horizons are you talking about?"
"Have you ever seen the movie Bridget Jones' Diary?" She nodded yes. "If you remember, Bridget and that jerk of a guy are in bed and she said, 'What you just did is illegal in some countries.' I guess I want to break that same law and a few others related to it. Was that too subtle?"
She pursed her lips and said softly, "No. I understood exactly what they did. What you're looking for is the ass of a porn star."
"But, a golfing porn star." I quipped. She did not laugh, and since it had stopped raining, she jumped out of the cart to hit a shot. We only had three holes left, and there wasn't much conversation. When we putted out on eighteen, I asked if she wanted to leave and go home, but she shook her head no. I showed her the door to the ladies' locker room, so she could shower and change, but she said that she would rather change at my place.
We jumped into each of our cars and she followed me home. As she walked to the door, I noticed she was empty handed, and I reminded her about her change of clothes. With a little smile, she answered, "I don't think I will be needing any clothes." She paused, "You probably have something I can wear."
"How about socks?" I suggested.
"Too much", she smiled, "How about a tie?"
"I'll have to add that to my fantasies, but I have so many I don't know when I can fit that one in. My first one is in the shower, and I want you to pretend that I only have one place to take one in my house. Don't forget, there's a water shortage."
