Golf Outing

“Ah, fucking Christ,” I said to myself, plopping down on a bench. The course was slow today, I’d had to wait behind the same group of girls at the last three holes. At least they were decent, all sporting bags from the St. Christopher’s golf team.

“You wanna play a few with us? I mean we’re all waiting anyways.” One of the girls extended an olive branch.

“Sure, I’m Scott.”

“I’m Caitlyn, this is Casey and Hannah. I shook all their hands and smiled. “Nice hat,” Hannah remarked.

“Thanks, I was born there, kind of have to be a fan,” I remarked of my Bills hat. She laughed and told me how a few of the players used to come into the Wegmans where she worked.

We chatted for a bit while the group in front of us finished up the hole. Hannah was a senior, like me, getting the first eighteen of the season in before early spring rains turned the course to much. She was the most athletic looking of the three, matching my 5’10 height, though falling a dime or so short of my 140 pounds. She had thin light brown hair pulled back into a smart pony tail. Casey was very petite, about 5’2, barely over 100 pounds with curly blonde hair. She wore a decent amount of makeup for a golf outing, though it was perfectly applied. Caitlyn was the most attractive of the three, reaching about 5’4’’ and 120 pounds. A little more meat on her than the other two, but also a bit more on top. Her C-cup breasts looked fine, even through a polo shirt. She also looked vaguely like Mia Hamm. Caitlyn and Casey were both sophomores.

After several minutes talking, we realized the group in front of us had long since cleared the green. The hole was a 173 yard par three with a green protected by two front bunkers. The girls obliged me by playing from the mens tees with me.

“How about a closest to the pin competition?” Hannah asked. “It’s ok, you don’t count, she told me.”

“What do the losers have to do?” Casey asked.

“How about fifteen jumping jacks?”

“Deal.”

They graciously let me tee off first. I wavered for a minute besides picking out a six iron. Conscious of their eyes on me, I took extra time lining up my shot and clearing my head. After a few seconds I swung.

“Wooo, and you said you weren’t that good,” Hannah whooped.

“I’m not,” I answered truthfully. I golfed pretty often and was better than most, but didn’t think much of my high 80, low 90 average. The ball bounced twice, hit the pin and rolled about a yard away. Damn.

Caitlyn teed up next. I stood off to the side, enjoying the free look at her backside, innocently looking like I was intently watching her shot. She had the most weight to her frame, but I decided she looked the best. Hannah was a bit tall and awkward, and Casey a bit skinny for my taste. She hit her shot and rolled it up onto the front fringe of the green.

Casey teed up next. I wondered how she got any sort of power behind the ball with her small frame. Indeed, I noticed she’d pulled out a three wood to hit. She hit a nice straight shot, the type I wish I could hit with my woods. Unfortunately it was straight into the left side bunker. She winced and bent over to pick up her tee. I could see a pink thong poking its way above her khakis.

Hannah teed up last. She hit the best shot, landing it near my ball and rolling it about 30 feet away from the hole. As we walked up to the green, I remembered, “hey, don’t you owe some jumping jacks?”

“That’s right,” Hannah grinned.

“I meant you too,” I quipped, pointing at my ball.

“Oh that’s how its gonna be?” I smiled.