C2 2

"Save my seat," she commanded. "I have to go to the bathroom." She hopped off of her perch and disappeared into the clubhouse. The passenger seat was taken by her father, who had just arrived.

"I see you two did well," he said proudly, examining the scoreboards on the side of the outdoor patio behind the course's club house.

"Yes, YOUR DAUGHTER did play well. I wasn't much help." I reached into my pocket and pulled out sixteen one hundred dollar bills. "This is her half of the prize money."

We both knew that if Rebecca accepted money from the tournament, it would jeopardize her amateur status.

We also both knew how expensive it was to keep a tournament player in the proper equipment. Tom didn't argue, he just accepted the money and slipped it into his pocket.

"DADDY!" Rebecca grabbed her father around the neck. "You should have been there. David would read the putts and I would knock them in. It was great. I was on fire!"

Tom smiled broadly at his only daughter's success. It made him proud. "I think he would make an excellent caddie!"

Even I laughed at that joke at my expense. I really hadn't been much more than a caddie that day anyway.

"Have you been drinking Rebecca?" Tom asked his daughter.

"Yes daddy. It's a victory party."

"You be careful."

"I will, David won't let me drink too much and get wild. Will you David?"

Get wild, I thought. Hell YES I would! "No, I wouldn't think of it. In fact, it's probably time you switched to water or iced tea anyway." Rebecca pretended to pout, but she nodded. And then I saw a wink.

Tom stood up. "Don't be too late celebrating. You have to mow the lawn tomorrow."

"I know daddy, I know. I won't sleep in. Too late." Rebecca teased her dad, but they booth knew that she would get the lawn mowed as soon as she got up in the morning. She worked hard and her parents doted on her.

Tom got up to leave, extending his hand and congratulations to me and giving his daughter a hug good-bye.

Rebecca took her seat back on the front of the golf cart and reached into the cooler for another Corona and lime. When she sat down, my eyes natural traveled to that purple-pantied pussy that had filled my mind almost all day.

I was shocked to realize that it was no longer clad in purple. Rebecca saw my shock and grinned mischieviously.

"I was so hot, I needed to cool off. I feel a nice breeze already." She opened her legs slightly to let me see into the pink flower that was her womanhood.

"So you noticed me looking, did you?" I asked.

"Noticed? Noticed what? That drool, that leer, that big salami in your shorts? I would have had to be Helen Keller not to notice." I looked down at my erection straining at my golf shorts.

"Yeah I know. I need to pee too, and I can't stand up." I laughed at my own candor. Rebecca seemed to relish in my suffering.

"You know what, I think I left my putter cover on the bench at number 8. Can you run us out there so I can look?" I checked in the cooler, there were another five Coronas, just enough for the trip.

"Sure," I answered. "It's probably not safe for you to ride up there though, why don't you sit down here?" I patted the passenger side of the bench seat.

"I think I'll be fine here."

"Suit yourself," I warned her, and hit the foot pedal to make the electric cart go. Though she was rocked by the sudden movement, she didn't lose her perch.

Her legs did fly apart in her effort to maintain her balance, and I was there to get a good look. We careened across the golf course, which had been closed for the tournament.

The green on hole number eight was as far from the clubhouse as you could get and still be on the course. The cart path wound behind the giant berms that surrounded the back of the green.

These berms were easily large enough to hide a caravan of golf carts. It was cool and shady where I stopped the cart in the same place as I had hours before when we played the hole.

"Is this where you dropped it?"

"Dropped what?"

"Your putter cover."

"My putter cover? Look behind you silly, it's on my putter."

I turned my head and looked. The black leather and wool cover was securely wrapping the head of her White-Hot Two-Ball Putter. I looked back at her, somewhat perplexed.

"Stand up," she directed. I did as she asked, adjusting my diminished hardon as I rose. "Don't you still have to pee?" I nodded before realizing how much I did have to pee. "Me too!" she admitted.

We both walked to the edge of the course and relieved ourselves. I was blatant about watching her pee. My God she was sexy.

"I didn't bring anything to wipe with. Do you have any Kleenex?"

"No, but I am sure I can help you freshen that daisy. Would you like me to do that?" I asked as I finished watering the wild grasses at the edge of the course.

Instead of replying, she walked over and moved my hand off of my cock. She shook the last couple of drops off, but didn't do anything about putting it away.

It stirred in her hand, growing until her fingers no longer could circle it. I looked down, both of her hands couldn't cover my large cock.

I picked her up and carried her to the front of the golf cart, seating her on the dashboard, facing forward.

I pushed the entire cart off the cart path so I could kneel in the soft grass instead of on the hard sidewalk. I dropped my head between her thighs and placed her legs on my shoulders.

I looked up, she was biting her lower lip. In those soulful brown eyes I could see both fear and lust, which I am certain was reflected in mine.

I leaned forward, gently blowing on her slit. She shuddered in reply. I blow a little harder and moved in closer. I could smell her sex, her salt, her sweat. The combination made my head swim.

I had been married more than twenty years and I was more than that many years older than she was. I was in decent shape then, able to stave off the middle age paunch that afflicted my generation, but my face had ruddy lines, my hair had salt in the pepper.

I stopped and looked up, checking for a sign that I had gone too far.