My Golfing Escapade

I play golf once a fortnight at my local course. I've been playing for a couple of years now and am reasonably competent.

I got into it through my friend Mandy, who is married to the club captain. I thought it would be one way of keeping in shape, is good regular exercise – and gives us something to do before our ladies' lunch! (Mandy is vivacious, certainly not unattractive, is a scandalous gossip and drinks gin and prosecco more proficiently than she plays golf!).

She insisted that I book a few lessons before she would invite me out on the course to play and suggested that the young coach at the club, Alan, was “fit as fuck” and would almost certainly be able to teach me a thing or two about getting your hole in one!!
She was probably right – though I discovered that Alan is gay – so not as right as she thought!

Anyhow, we were out the other week, during the mini heatwave we had in mid May. I do love the way golf gear can accentuate a woman's attributes. I had a tight fitting lilac top on and though my breasts are hardly the biggest, they looked firm and pert. I am pleased to say that I don't tend to have much of a tummy (thank God I never gave birth! lol). I also had a short, figure hugging white skirt which showed my bum and legs off to best effect.

I quite understand the saying “all the gear, no idea” about men – I think it is different for us girls as it is so nice to know that you look good as well as play well.

I was playing reasonably consistently until I sliced my tee shot on the fourth into a thick area of trees and bushes, AFTER Mandy had hit an immaculate drive down the middle of the fairway. I had to bend almost double to get myself into a gap to search for my ball and had just located it when through the bushes I saw a flash of a blue shirt. I assumed it was someone on the fifth who had also sliced their shot into the bushes. Having found my own ball I was just about to offer to help them when I heard what sounded like a horse pissing on the other side of the bush.

Pushing the bush slightly aside, I quickly understood why. There was one of Mandy's husband's friends, who I knew by sight but not by name, his cock hanging out of his trousers, and he was indeed hung like a horse.

His eye must have caught the movement of the bushes because he looked part sheepish, part amused to see me on my knees, only inches away from where his massive tool was watering the vegetation and then some! He shook himself when he had finished and then looking directly at me, began slowly rubbing himself, his cock getting harder and longer.

I did what any self respecting lady would do in such a circumstance. I put my hand through the bush and started wanking him firmly and fast. I'd been going for a minute or so when I heard Mandy shouting through the opening I'd come through, “Come on Brenda, you'll need to drop one and play”.

I quickly adjusted myself and collected my ball. He spun away and I didn't have time to see if he was finishing the job for himself or putting himself away.

I haven't yet told Mandy what went on – and am not sure that I ever will. At least not until I've managed to engineer being able to complete the job for myself!