Each spring I get very excited about dusting off the clubs and getting out on the golf course. I have played since I was nine. It has become a source of business for me also. Before Beth and I got married a year ago (when we both hit our thirty-fifth year) I let her know about my passion for the game and my big frustration was that she was reluctant to take it up. At our wedding I joked that I almost didn't propose to her because she didn't play golf. When we were engaged I had already joined a local country club and by the time we tied the knot I had settled into a Saturday morning tee time of 7:30. My buddies and I got in eighteen holes and I was home by 11:30 at the latest. Then I started to get in another eighteen on Sundays. Beth increasingly began making sarcastic comments about being a "golf widow" and shaking my hand vigorously when I returned home, saying: "Hello, let me introduce myself. I'm Beth, you're wife."
I risked stronger language from her last month, to the day. I had lost a tee time with my usual partners and instead walked on to golf with whomever needed a fourth. The starter put me with three college women and we wound up at the club bar. One of them, Paula, was built like a brick shithouse and after a couple of Martinis she and I walked to the parking lot and did some rather heavy kissy face and groping at the side of her car. I can't help myself when I'm around chesty women and when she flirted with me on the fairway one thing just led to another. Unfortunately this cuddling happened when one of Beth's friends, Lana, was just arriving for her usual foursome. It was a stupid thing that I did, and to head off Lana's sure disclosure I told Beth about my dalliance as soon as I got home. "Please forgive me," I pleaded, "all we did was kiss. She is nothing to me, just some college twirp." Beth seemed very understanding, saying: "Well I can understand your fondness for coll ids. They're are so smooth and ripe." She smiled and the tone of her voice relieved me - I was anticipating rage. "Look, you aren't contemplating revenge are you?" I asked, smiling. "Oh, no, honey," she said. She acted almost cheerful for the rest of the day, with an occasional zinger about my transgression, and then she seemed to be over it. The next day everything was back to normal.
I was very relieved also because, frankly, Beth has a feisty, combative side to her that surfaced after we got to know each other. Usually very mellow, she can really get into it anywhere - with neighbors, at the supermarket, and in our home with guests that piss her off. It wasn't a big deal for me, but honestly it could be intimidating. Her background was in a rough neighborhood in LA and underneath her congenial, almost refined exterior there was someone ready to strike back hard if she got crossed. I had seen her in action and she could really make 'em pay. Perhaps this side to her attracted me in the first place. That and her almost uncanny figure. That body of hers was a conspicuous part of my daily life. Quite well endowed.
Two weeks ago, on a warm, bright Saturday afternoon, I was at the club's driving range, working with my three wood. Since my car was in the shop, my angel of a bride had dropped me off ninety minutes ago and was going to pick me up soon. One of the club's senior caddies, a handsome, well built blonde, college guy named Rick, was at the practice tee to my right, chatting with another caddie, Mike, while swinging a five iron. Mike had switched from defensive lineman in high school to golf and it got him a scholarship to the state university. They could drive the ball further than anyone at the club. I had told Beth, who was dressed in a sweatshirt and old jeans when she dropped me off, that a thirty-something guy like me needed help from two nineteen year old jocks. When I pointed them out she said: "Well, aren't they though," an appreciative tone to her voice. "Aren't they what?" I asked. She just kept looking at them and her tongue began to lick her upper lip. "Love those ege kids," she grinned. I took this as a little more teasing for my stunt with Paula. It was a little chilling to hear her mellow voice be used for payback, but I figured if that was the worst that would come out of my dalliance, I was doing all right.
I had another reason for being near Rick and Mike on the practice tees - I wanted my wife to learn golf in the worst way. I had no patience to teach it. We could enjoy Saturday mornings together and the tension between us over my devotion to the game could be dispelled - and she could be a business-getter for me. So the fact that she seemed to like these two baby-faced instructors could facilitate her taking lessons with them. I had to get her interested, methodically, and get them interested in teaching her. They tended to give lessons only to people their age, or little kids, so I wanted to make them enthused about teaching my bride. There were women executives, avid golfers, at the club, and I saw Beth as a way to turn these women into business accounts. And frankly I saw golf as a marvelous way for Beth and I to share our love for each other.
Rick and Mike were often kidded around the club for their amateurish admiration of the opposite sex. But members overlooked the fact that these two young men were scratch golfers and patient, courteous caddies who gave lessons. They worked wonders with people. So two weeks ago Saturday at the driving range, when Rick noticed me next to him, I struck up a conversation. Then I dropped a hint: "Wish I could get the wife out here." He said: "That's right Mr. Cooper, why don't you bring her out golfing? Does she golf? I have never met her." I now saw my chance to get her hooked up with these guys. "I only wish I could," I said, "but she just refuses to take up the world's greatest sport." "Too slow for her?" Rick said. "No, actually she thinks it's awesome." Rick persisted, "so get her out here. She has no excuse. It's a great way for newlyweds to do something together." "I have tried," I said, Rick and I now standing and talking. "Well, what's the problem?" he laugh
I felt comfortable with him and Mike and, to interest them in tutoring my wife I said, in a low voice, "it's her chest. She's kind of large up there and she is convinced she could never swing a club." I theatrically held my hands out toward him and slowly stretched each hand apart to the furthest point possible and placed them in front of my ribs. Rick's wide eyes gazed at my gesture, and then with eyebrows frozen high on his brow he said: "Oh," then cleared his throat, as did Mike. Rick continued, slowly, "That's... not a..... problem. Well......, when you say 'kind of large' you mean really big, right?" His tone was calculating, that of the teacher pondering a problem student. "Very," I said, "...she tried to swing an iron once and said, 'well, I guess this game ain't for me'". Rick thought for a second and said, as if this were no big deal: "Mr. Cooper, just how big IS her chest?" His tone was that of one confronted with an obstacle to surmount. I was feeling like I was tantalizing these youngsters. Seeing their passions stirred, and deciding to tease them a little more, I said bragging: "Her cups completely run over. She's totally stacked. They stick out to here." Now I took my stretched to the max hands and moved them forward from my body, pushing toward him.
These young men looked at each other and Rick said very seriously "I see", and then there was what I swore was a wink to each other and a smile. So just as soon as I had said this, I had a subtle, but apprehensive sensation that I had perhaps crossed some kind of line. I had anxiety about discussing my wife's anatomy with what were essentially two adolescents. And I knew them only slightly. So I put my hands down and laughed, in a manner aimed at erasing what I had just done, "whatever. It would be nice to get her to learn golf, and I have no patience to do it." I turned to resume hitting balls and Rick stood there for a moment, then picked up his iron and hit a few of his as well. My anxiety abated and I sensed I had their attention.
About ten minutes later Mike, while Rick was standing at his golf bag switching to a higher iron, said softly, for Rick's benefit only: "Well, well. Speaking of completely stacked, check this out." I was concentrating on some problems I was having with hooking the ball and didn't really pick up on their chatting. But I think I heard Rick say: "Holy shit. You can see 'em from here, and they're jiggling this way." Mike laughed: "Christ, would I love to play with those for an afternoon." "I saw her first, dude," Rick said. Mike sneered, "you did not, asshole."
This banter stopped when I heard Beth's voice call to me. "Honey, you done?" She walked up the path behind the practice tees and I gave her a kiss as she came to where I was standing. A natural green-eyed, auburn beauty with heavy eyebrows, she had gone to the hairdresser and gotten a wonderfully sexy perm and a manicure. And for some reason she had apparently run home and changed into a knit tank top and a silk skirt. "How do I look?" she smiled, all teeth, dimples and freckles. "Great," I said, surprised at the costume change since she had dropped me off. "You changed your clothes....." Her tank top was tight on her and her extra large breasts, far more than handfuls, were traffic stoppers.
She said, louder than necessary: "I was getting hot in the jeans and sweatshirt. I needed to cool off my chest." She looked out at the range and the ball-mobile driving around it, sucking up golf balls. The beaming rays of the afternoon were making her sweat. How breathtaking her body looked. She turned back toward me and the boys behind me, and again in a voice that was louder than normal. "This is the kind of day to go braless. You men are lucky - you don't have to wear 'em." She glanced quickly in Rick and Mike's direction a few times as we chatted. I twisted a little inside, sensitive to the conversation I had just had with Rick and Mike, and realizing, just then, that their lewd comments were directed at my wife as she was walking from the parking lot.
"You must be Mrs. Cooper," Rick said, extending his hand to her. She grinned and said, "Hi! Indeed I am." Mike introduced himself and Rick said: "Tim here was just telling us that you would like to play golf but you just can't." She cocked her head and looked at me through the corner of her eye. I said: "Rick was wondering why you and I don't golf together." Rick wore a serious, encouraging expression and said: "Ma'am, it's a great game. Why don't you sign up for lessons here? You and your husband can enjoy those Saturday mornings as a couple." "I'll take a pass," she said. Despite my confidential explanation ten minutes ago, he said: "Oh, Mrs. Cooper, it's so much fun. Are you self-conscious? Afraid you'll look foolish? But you could never look foolish. You're too pretty." She smiled, "nope. And thank you for the flattery." Mike jumped in: "Maybe it's because you think the game is too slow?" "Uh uh," she said. She was looking them over, I noticed. I had always fe was healthy for your spouse to look at and appreciate good looking members of the opposite sex. Beth was built for non-stop male attention and told me she found it exciting. There was no harm in it, especially when they were half her age.
But this quizzing from the two young employees of the club was getting a little old. Rick took the subject a step further. "Well, Tim told us why you don't golf." Instinctively sensing a weird situation opening up that I needed to control, I immediately jumped in with "I told him it wasn't your cup of tea." She looked at me, her mouth open, then looked at Rick and Mike. Rick said: "No, the problem isn't your cup - your husband said it's your cups. Your cups runneth over. He demonstrated like this...." Then he mimicked what I had done with my hands a few moments ago. "Tim!" she smiled, "what did you say to them?" I half expected, with her temper, that she was going to brain this kid.
I stumbled: "I told them that you, uh, didn't feel comfortable swinging a club ---- " I hesitated, and unfortunately Rick cut me off, "because you're real big in the chest!" Then Mike said, his eyes looking down at her bosom: "And you definitely are that." She rubbed one index finger against the other in my face and said: "I don't believe you told these guys ------." Rick said: "Mrs. Cooper, it's not difficult to golf when you're really built. Several women here are - uh - busty and they golf all the time." Mike said: "But Mrs. Cooper makes their chests look flat by comparison. She might need some special attention." I had my clubs packed in the bag and said: "Well, so long guys." Rick said to my wife, his voice heavy with sincerity: "It was really nice meeting you. Maybe we can give you lessons!"
When we got in the car I wanted to smooth over that awkward exchange and said: "Well, what about it? Do you want to change your mind and take lessons?" Instead of complaining about the fresh comments she smiled and said: "I think I will. Rick and Mike seem like straight shooters. And so handsome!" I laughed, masking some jealousy: "I noticed you called attention to your body, and I could have done without the flirting and the comments about your breasts." She laughed back, "you started it. You told them about my boobs and they took it from there." This jolted me a little, and rather than get her upset I did not pursue the way she talked about her chest when she came to pick me up.
I felt no better when I glanced back at Rick and Mike and saw them high-fiving each other and then Rick pinched and pulled the fabric of his T shirt so that two imaginary breasts stuck out about nine inches. As I watched him do this Beth said: "So you like to tell guys about my boobs? Is this a turn-on for you?" "Of course not," I said, interested in changing the subject. "And you don't mind when two young hunks I just met make such intimate comments?" she continued, no smile on her face anymore. This was weird - she had done her share of directing their attention to her body. "I did very much mind," I said, "wasn't that obvious?" She was softer now, more serious, intently hanging on to what I was saying. "'Wasn't that obvious?'" she repeated, "No Tim, it was not obvious. Had my old boyfriend heard their comments about my breasts....." I interrupted, "don't start with your old boyfriend again." We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence until we got home.
I had sloughed off the eerie sexual side of that encounter and began to think about the joy of golfing with my wife and the business dividends of Beth cultivating other women on the golf course. If along the way there was some boyish flirting and teasing between my wife and these youngsters, I could live with that.
The next day Beth and I were finishing dinner when the phone rang. She answered it and laughed alot, and said: "Well thank you, I will, I definitely will. That's so sweet of you." I asked who it was and she, with her the phone uncovered, said one of her "babes" from the club, asking when she was going to start lessons. "Great!" I laughed. "He's a patient, very capable golf pro for his age. And enterprising - calling you at home like this." She looked at me and smiled: "He said I could get free lessons and we could practice on three holes that are closed for restoration - apparently the greens are already restored there but it's still not open yet and we wouldn't have to worry about other golfers playing through." I said: "You're going to do it?" She said: "Of course." She went to the phone and started called him back. "Where is he, at the club? This late?" I asked, excited that my wife was going to learn the greatest game ever invented. "He gave me his home number," aid, her eyes looking beyond me. "Hi lover, it's me again," I heard her say, "when do we start, teacher?" She was listening to Rick talking, who was going on about something, and my wife said: "Oh, definitely. Of course I would. Is that a promise?"
Beth made a date to meet Rick and Mike the morning after next for her first golf lesson. "Both of them?" I asked, "that's terrific!" "Rick said that Mike is in love with me," she giggled, "and when he asked to bring Mike along I said 'why not?" She studied me. "Jealous?" I sipped my beer. "You know," I said, "even with your freckles and that redhead complexion of yours I can tell when you're blushing." "Am not," she said. That night we had some rather torrid lovemaking to top off the day. She wore me out. I was so grateful to be married to this gorgeous woman, and she was mine exclusively.
On the day of the first lesson I cut out from the office early, enthusiastic about the appointment my wife had agreed to, so I decided, at her urging, to meet her there. "You can watch me make a fool of myself with my two handsome instructors," she laughed over the phone. I was pleased by how much she wanted me to tag along. "I can just drop off the clubs and hang around for a while, then go," I said, hoping she would insist on my staying around. "I really want you there to watch," she said quietly. This made me feel good because now we could do something as a couple - for the rest of our life together - even in retirement. Despite the inappropriate comments and flirtation of three days ago I was looking forward to my wife learning how to swing a seven iron!
I got there before her, with my clubs in my trunk for her to use, and encountered Rick and Mike in the parking lot of the club. They seemed surprised to see me. "Here to play?" Rick smiled, hardly concealing a frustration I sensed he had. "No, here to support my wife in her first plunge into golf." Mike had a faint smile on his face as well, and they both were a little patronizing toward me, more superficial, but they seemed eager to get this lesson started.
A few moments later Beth pulled up in the Lexus. "Good morning gentlemen!" she shouted, a big smile lighting up her pretty face. She looked fabulous, but decked out more for a dance club than a golf course. She had on a sheer knit pink top and a sun-kissed white pleated golf skirt, white socks and white golf shoes. The sides of the obligatory white visor cap were half buried in her thick red hair. Her sunglasses complemented her unusually heavy lipstick and double dose of cologne. The sleeveless pink top was a pull-over that showed plenty of d?colletage and its thin straps left most of her shoulders bare. There was a lot of skin, wonderfully highlighted with freckles. I sighed heavily as she walked nearer; the top was obviously the wrong size, meant for a woman with a quite smaller bust. It hung loose at the bottom, which only went down as far as a couple inches above the hem of her skirt.
Furthermore, she quite obviously was not wearing anything under it. Her boobs sat lower on her chest, but with such fullness the size of them was beyond belief. They seemed to jiggle constantly, even when she moved only slightly. The nipples were dramatically right out there, so inviting. In a way she seemed like a brand new woman to me, mysterious, incredibly sexy, and it frightened me. I walked up to her, kissed her, and said quietly, "you're dressed to kill. And, honey, I think you'll be uncomfortable with that top. It's too small on you!" I blocked her path and suggested she run home, now, and change into something far more conservative. She pecked me summarily on the cheek and, sauntering past me, said to them in a keyed up voice: "My husband thinks this top is too tight. What do you guys think? Will I stop traffic on the fairways?" She smiled at Rick and shook his hand. "Whoa," he said, transfixed. I was now confronted with the situation of my wife dressed like and ignoring my concern about it.
She breathed in and stood real straight while Rick and Mike stood gawking. "I wore this because I REALLY wanted you guys to see what gets in the way when I swing a golf club," she smiled. She was posing for them, right in front of me. Her smile slowly was replaced with intense stares at Rick and Mike. Her lips barely moved and I heard a quiet voice that I thought was overly serious: "Rick, see what I have to work with? It's a huge problem. Huge." She glanced down at her breasts then back up at him, seemingly confident all along that he would be in awe, which he was. She turned a little and did the same with Mike. Rick was tongue-tied. "Oh, it's no problem," he managed to say, clearing his throat. I was standing there, like an idiot, getting more anxious by the minute. I began to look around at the section of the course that was open - it was not as far from the restoring greens as I thought. People golfing would see us, or more specifically my wife.
She kept up this showing off, and again looked down at her top. "I really think I am way too big to play golf. Mike, you said I make the other busty girls look flat." Then she looked at me sweetly: "Isn't that what he said yesterday, Tim, after you told them all about my large chest? Remember, you stood right there and let Mike talk about my breasts, remember darling?" she said. Mike was getting less flustered, and grinned: "It'll be a challenge, but we're gonna teach you." "Let's keep this respectable," I admonished him. Beth laughed, "I think my husband is jealous. But he knows that the golf course is a great way to make new friends. Right Tim?" I let that one slide, realizing that she was needling me about my necking with Paula. A feverish feeling swept over my face; why had I succumbed to that temptation?
We got into a golf cart, Rick and Beth in the front, Mike and I in the back seat, and headed across the drive to the restoration area. Rick seemed to race the cart and rather than avoid the potholes left by the lawn equipment, seemed to drive into them directly. The cart bounced up and down and Rick openly watched my wife's breasts bounce with it. I tried to chat with Mike but he grunted back and made a point of leaning forward to say something to Mike and Beth - and blatantly cocking his head over her shoulder to admire my wife's chest. Rick took this joy ride a step further and drove the cart around in circles and up and down hills on the first fairway. Beth laughed and screamed with delight. "My God what mountains!" she said, in a 1-900 voice, "I'm shaking and jiggling all over the place!" "Hope so," Mike said.
Mike decided to get gabby with me. "You're wife is a very attractive woman," he said. "If she golfs with guys they'll lose. Right, Rick?" He yelled to Rick, "can you see Mrs. Cooper golfing in this outfit with some of the men at this place?" Rick chuckled: "If she stands facing a guy when he's trying to tee off, with the problem she has, the guy'll miss the fuckin' ball when he swings." They both laughed, and then my wife yelled: "so you guys think I have secret weapons?" Mike said: "Oh yeah," then looking over her shoulder said: "Mr. Cooper, don't you think your wife has secret weapons?" Rick leaned toward Beth and said something, and she waved her finger at him and laughed. He spoke to her again and she said: "You are a bad boy!", then grinned, looked down at her top, and then covered her boobs with her arms.
Finally we pulled up to the first tee. As we stood on the green Rick said, in a businesslike manner: "First thing you learn is to loosen up. Always do stretches before you even think about swinging that golf club." Mike said: "Oh yeah, absolutely." I frowned: "Huh? What stretches?" Rick, standing next to her, said: "Bend over and touch your toes," then he smirked, "if that's possible in your case." Beth eagerly bent over and reached her hands down to her feet, causing her golf skirt to hike up dangerously close to her buttocks. She was wearing red weave underpants, and this became obvious.
She stayed in that position and said through her legs: "Even a girl like me can do this." The guys and I were a few paces behind her now and her top had slid down, revealing the bottoms of her tits. "Yeah, like that," Rick said, poking Mike. My mouth was drying, and I barked: "OK, Beth, you can straighten up now." Then I turned to Rick: "You know damn well toe-touching is not part arming up for golf." I said it firmly. Beth looked at Rick: "Hey teacher, I'm stuck." She was still bent over, her fingers reaching her feet. Rick said: "You are?" Beth said: "When you're a top-heavy gal you need help getting back up again."
Rick and Mike stepped to each side and gave her the help she "needed" to stand up straight. To thank them she pulled them toward her with one hand on each of their necks and kissed one, then the other, on the mouth.
Rick spent time patiently explaining the grip. After about five minutes of her getting her hands to fit reasonably well around the five iron they practiced on, he talked to her about stance. He addressed the ball and then handed her the iron. He presented this very well, and I was trying to convince myself that the spooky interaction between these young men and my wife was about to get serious.
She set up with the club in her hand and then asked: "Will my chest make it hard to stand the way you're standing?" Rick smiled: "No," then he muttered to Mike, "your chest will make me hard." Mike laughed. "What's so funny?" I asked. "Nothing," Rick said. My wife took a few swings. "How was that?" she said.
"You're looking good," Rick said. Then, facing her, he looked at her chest. "How do your arms feel holding the club while you swing?" She looked down at her boobs and said: "My breasts kind of overwhelm everything." "Including me, especially because you're braless," he said, a lewd look on his face. "Yeah," my wife smiled, putting her hands on her curvy hips, "I wanted my jugs to be loose and jiggle with my swing." She stuck her chest out and shook it.
Then she took another swing and as her swing ended I noticed that she twisted her upper body a little forward, as if something was still moving, causing her upper half to keep moving while her legs and hips were s d. "See? That's what happens when I put my upper body into it." She swung again and her body did that twist again. "Lots of momentum with my secret weapons," she said, looking back at me and winking.
Mike said, smiling at Rick: "They're so big they just keep on jiggling." Beth asked with a sincerity I was beginning to hate: "Should I have worn a bra, you guys? Would it be better to have those cups running over?"
Now Rick and Mike were both facing her, and just gawking at her chest. "Let's just have the lesson, fellas," I protested, "and keep our minds on the game." "Oh, no bra is fine," Rick said, "how do your nipples feel when you swing?" "That's enough," I said, "there will be no more comments about my wife's body. It's rude and chauvinistic." Beth more and more was acting like I was part of the scenery. "They're very sensitive and the top I'm wearing rubs against them when my upper arms push against my tits."
Rick stared at her boobs and said: "We need to know something to teach you correctly. What is your bra size?" I swung the golf bag out of the cart, and annoyed at his question said: "I don't see where that is any of your business, Rick." Still using that nse, serious tone, Beth said: "Can you guess?" Then she said to me, glancing in my direction: "And keep your mouth shut."
"Beth," I laughed, "we're done here. Rick, Mike, find someone else to harass. I can teach my own wife how to golf." I took her hand and turned to walk toward the clubhouse. But she didn't move. She said: "Oh no honey, they're just little flirts. You stay here and watch so that things don't get too -uh - physical." I shook my head. "No, this is wrong. Let's go." She didn't move. She smiled at Rick, "so what size is my bra?" He stood and looked intently at her chest, which she dramatized by pressing her shoulders back and placing her hands on her hips. "38?" She shook her head and pointed her index finger upward. "Don't forget the cup size. Ask the expert on cup size for the details...." She gestured toward me and then turned to Mike. "How about you, gorgeous?" He muttered: "40? D?" I felt like I needed to sit down. Rick said: "Oh yeah, cup size, like D or E." In response to Mike she again pointed upward and looked to Rick. He said: "42? E?" "Bingo!" she laughed. "If they were clubs they'd be drivers!" The boys and Beth laughed.
We wound up near the first green after Beth's several strokes worked her ball through the fairway. Rick coughed to clear his throat, and I noticed something that only added fuel to the fire in my head. Rick was wearing loose khakis shorts and it was quite obvious that he had a raging hard-on. I felt like a man stuck in an enclosed space, like a coffin, with no way out. The morning sun felt hot on my face as we stood on the green.
Rick actually got serious again about teaching my wife golf and asked her to get out a putter. "Ideally," Rick said, getting set over his ball and looking over at Beth, "the body has to be relaxed so that the swing is nice and fluid, swinging back and forth like a pendulum." He took a few practice strokes and then sank a twelve foot putt. "My hero!" she said. He took the ball out of the cup and said: "We don't want the cup to run over."
He was standing near her, his erection even more noticeable, and his eyes seemed to be constantly, openly on her boobs now, and with one arm across his chest and his other elbow resting on it he tapped an index finger against his cheek. "Mike," he continued, "Don't you think we could do a better job helping Mrs. Cooper if she took off her top?" Mike looked at her lustily and said: "Oh yeah. Definitely." Nobody said a thing for a moment, and Beth said, with a frown: "But if I did that you would see something only my husband sees." Rick said: "This is just for the lesson. Please don't be offended." She said: "Oh I'm not offended, anything to help me learn my husband's favorite pastime." Then she turned to me: "Speak of the devil, my husband is standing right here, I almost forgot. Let me ask him....Darling, what do you think, would it make sense for me to take my top off? It will help me learn about golf, and you and I can play together - right into our twilight years."
I was standing with my arms folded, speechless, shaking my head and glaring. Mike said: "Come on, Mrs. Cooper, while he's thinking about it, give us a peek. We want to see those weapons of yours." Beth then said something that floored me.
She looked down at Rick's crotch and said: "Does that get in the way of your swing?" "What?" he said, slightly confused. She walked closer and pointed at his crotch. "That," and she kept pointing, then her head still aimed toward his crotch, her eyes batted up at his face. He smiled. My stomach was curdling. "Honey------," I started. She said, in a mock serious tone: "Well my teachers have been talking about the importance of a relaxed swing with nothing in the way. And Rick's got something in the way of his swing."
Then she looked at me, still pointing: "Do you see what I'm talking about, dear? Did you have that problem when you played with those college ladies?"
I risked stronger language from her last month, to the day. I had lost a tee time with my usual partners and instead walked on to golf with whomever needed a fourth. The starter put me with three college women and we wound up at the club bar. One of them, Paula, was built like a brick shithouse and after a couple of Martinis she and I walked to the parking lot and did some rather heavy kissy face and groping at the side of her car. I can't help myself when I'm around chesty women and when she flirted with me on the fairway one thing just led to another. Unfortunately this cuddling happened when one of Beth's friends, Lana, was just arriving for her usual foursome. It was a stupid thing that I did, and to head off Lana's sure disclosure I told Beth about my dalliance as soon as I got home. "Please forgive me," I pleaded, "all we did was kiss. She is nothing to me, just some college twirp." Beth seemed very understanding, saying: "Well I can understand your fondness for coll ids. They're are so smooth and ripe." She smiled and the tone of her voice relieved me - I was anticipating rage. "Look, you aren't contemplating revenge are you?" I asked, smiling. "Oh, no, honey," she said. She acted almost cheerful for the rest of the day, with an occasional zinger about my transgression, and then she seemed to be over it. The next day everything was back to normal.
I was very relieved also because, frankly, Beth has a feisty, combative side to her that surfaced after we got to know each other. Usually very mellow, she can really get into it anywhere - with neighbors, at the supermarket, and in our home with guests that piss her off. It wasn't a big deal for me, but honestly it could be intimidating. Her background was in a rough neighborhood in LA and underneath her congenial, almost refined exterior there was someone ready to strike back hard if she got crossed. I had seen her in action and she could really make 'em pay. Perhaps this side to her attracted me in the first place. That and her almost uncanny figure. That body of hers was a conspicuous part of my daily life. Quite well endowed.
Two weeks ago, on a warm, bright Saturday afternoon, I was at the club's driving range, working with my three wood. Since my car was in the shop, my angel of a bride had dropped me off ninety minutes ago and was going to pick me up soon. One of the club's senior caddies, a handsome, well built blonde, college guy named Rick, was at the practice tee to my right, chatting with another caddie, Mike, while swinging a five iron. Mike had switched from defensive lineman in high school to golf and it got him a scholarship to the state university. They could drive the ball further than anyone at the club. I had told Beth, who was dressed in a sweatshirt and old jeans when she dropped me off, that a thirty-something guy like me needed help from two nineteen year old jocks. When I pointed them out she said: "Well, aren't they though," an appreciative tone to her voice. "Aren't they what?" I asked. She just kept looking at them and her tongue began to lick her upper lip. "Love those ege kids," she grinned. I took this as a little more teasing for my stunt with Paula. It was a little chilling to hear her mellow voice be used for payback, but I figured if that was the worst that would come out of my dalliance, I was doing all right.
I had another reason for being near Rick and Mike on the practice tees - I wanted my wife to learn golf in the worst way. I had no patience to teach it. We could enjoy Saturday mornings together and the tension between us over my devotion to the game could be dispelled - and she could be a business-getter for me. So the fact that she seemed to like these two baby-faced instructors could facilitate her taking lessons with them. I had to get her interested, methodically, and get them interested in teaching her. They tended to give lessons only to people their age, or little kids, so I wanted to make them enthused about teaching my bride. There were women executives, avid golfers, at the club, and I saw Beth as a way to turn these women into business accounts. And frankly I saw golf as a marvelous way for Beth and I to share our love for each other.
Rick and Mike were often kidded around the club for their amateurish admiration of the opposite sex. But members overlooked the fact that these two young men were scratch golfers and patient, courteous caddies who gave lessons. They worked wonders with people. So two weeks ago Saturday at the driving range, when Rick noticed me next to him, I struck up a conversation. Then I dropped a hint: "Wish I could get the wife out here." He said: "That's right Mr. Cooper, why don't you bring her out golfing? Does she golf? I have never met her." I now saw my chance to get her hooked up with these guys. "I only wish I could," I said, "but she just refuses to take up the world's greatest sport." "Too slow for her?" Rick said. "No, actually she thinks it's awesome." Rick persisted, "so get her out here. She has no excuse. It's a great way for newlyweds to do something together." "I have tried," I said, Rick and I now standing and talking. "Well, what's the problem?" he laugh
I felt comfortable with him and Mike and, to interest them in tutoring my wife I said, in a low voice, "it's her chest. She's kind of large up there and she is convinced she could never swing a club." I theatrically held my hands out toward him and slowly stretched each hand apart to the furthest point possible and placed them in front of my ribs. Rick's wide eyes gazed at my gesture, and then with eyebrows frozen high on his brow he said: "Oh," then cleared his throat, as did Mike. Rick continued, slowly, "That's... not a..... problem. Well......, when you say 'kind of large' you mean really big, right?" His tone was calculating, that of the teacher pondering a problem student. "Very," I said, "...she tried to swing an iron once and said, 'well, I guess this game ain't for me'". Rick thought for a second and said, as if this were no big deal: "Mr. Cooper, just how big IS her chest?" His tone was that of one confronted with an obstacle to surmount. I was feeling like I was tantalizing these youngsters. Seeing their passions stirred, and deciding to tease them a little more, I said bragging: "Her cups completely run over. She's totally stacked. They stick out to here." Now I took my stretched to the max hands and moved them forward from my body, pushing toward him.
These young men looked at each other and Rick said very seriously "I see", and then there was what I swore was a wink to each other and a smile. So just as soon as I had said this, I had a subtle, but apprehensive sensation that I had perhaps crossed some kind of line. I had anxiety about discussing my wife's anatomy with what were essentially two adolescents. And I knew them only slightly. So I put my hands down and laughed, in a manner aimed at erasing what I had just done, "whatever. It would be nice to get her to learn golf, and I have no patience to do it." I turned to resume hitting balls and Rick stood there for a moment, then picked up his iron and hit a few of his as well. My anxiety abated and I sensed I had their attention.
About ten minutes later Mike, while Rick was standing at his golf bag switching to a higher iron, said softly, for Rick's benefit only: "Well, well. Speaking of completely stacked, check this out." I was concentrating on some problems I was having with hooking the ball and didn't really pick up on their chatting. But I think I heard Rick say: "Holy shit. You can see 'em from here, and they're jiggling this way." Mike laughed: "Christ, would I love to play with those for an afternoon." "I saw her first, dude," Rick said. Mike sneered, "you did not, asshole."
This banter stopped when I heard Beth's voice call to me. "Honey, you done?" She walked up the path behind the practice tees and I gave her a kiss as she came to where I was standing. A natural green-eyed, auburn beauty with heavy eyebrows, she had gone to the hairdresser and gotten a wonderfully sexy perm and a manicure. And for some reason she had apparently run home and changed into a knit tank top and a silk skirt. "How do I look?" she smiled, all teeth, dimples and freckles. "Great," I said, surprised at the costume change since she had dropped me off. "You changed your clothes....." Her tank top was tight on her and her extra large breasts, far more than handfuls, were traffic stoppers.
She said, louder than necessary: "I was getting hot in the jeans and sweatshirt. I needed to cool off my chest." She looked out at the range and the ball-mobile driving around it, sucking up golf balls. The beaming rays of the afternoon were making her sweat. How breathtaking her body looked. She turned back toward me and the boys behind me, and again in a voice that was louder than normal. "This is the kind of day to go braless. You men are lucky - you don't have to wear 'em." She glanced quickly in Rick and Mike's direction a few times as we chatted. I twisted a little inside, sensitive to the conversation I had just had with Rick and Mike, and realizing, just then, that their lewd comments were directed at my wife as she was walking from the parking lot.
"You must be Mrs. Cooper," Rick said, extending his hand to her. She grinned and said, "Hi! Indeed I am." Mike introduced himself and Rick said: "Tim here was just telling us that you would like to play golf but you just can't." She cocked her head and looked at me through the corner of her eye. I said: "Rick was wondering why you and I don't golf together." Rick wore a serious, encouraging expression and said: "Ma'am, it's a great game. Why don't you sign up for lessons here? You and your husband can enjoy those Saturday mornings as a couple." "I'll take a pass," she said. Despite my confidential explanation ten minutes ago, he said: "Oh, Mrs. Cooper, it's so much fun. Are you self-conscious? Afraid you'll look foolish? But you could never look foolish. You're too pretty." She smiled, "nope. And thank you for the flattery." Mike jumped in: "Maybe it's because you think the game is too slow?" "Uh uh," she said. She was looking them over, I noticed. I had always fe was healthy for your spouse to look at and appreciate good looking members of the opposite sex. Beth was built for non-stop male attention and told me she found it exciting. There was no harm in it, especially when they were half her age.
But this quizzing from the two young employees of the club was getting a little old. Rick took the subject a step further. "Well, Tim told us why you don't golf." Instinctively sensing a weird situation opening up that I needed to control, I immediately jumped in with "I told him it wasn't your cup of tea." She looked at me, her mouth open, then looked at Rick and Mike. Rick said: "No, the problem isn't your cup - your husband said it's your cups. Your cups runneth over. He demonstrated like this...." Then he mimicked what I had done with my hands a few moments ago. "Tim!" she smiled, "what did you say to them?" I half expected, with her temper, that she was going to brain this kid.
I stumbled: "I told them that you, uh, didn't feel comfortable swinging a club ---- " I hesitated, and unfortunately Rick cut me off, "because you're real big in the chest!" Then Mike said, his eyes looking down at her bosom: "And you definitely are that." She rubbed one index finger against the other in my face and said: "I don't believe you told these guys ------." Rick said: "Mrs. Cooper, it's not difficult to golf when you're really built. Several women here are - uh - busty and they golf all the time." Mike said: "But Mrs. Cooper makes their chests look flat by comparison. She might need some special attention." I had my clubs packed in the bag and said: "Well, so long guys." Rick said to my wife, his voice heavy with sincerity: "It was really nice meeting you. Maybe we can give you lessons!"
When we got in the car I wanted to smooth over that awkward exchange and said: "Well, what about it? Do you want to change your mind and take lessons?" Instead of complaining about the fresh comments she smiled and said: "I think I will. Rick and Mike seem like straight shooters. And so handsome!" I laughed, masking some jealousy: "I noticed you called attention to your body, and I could have done without the flirting and the comments about your breasts." She laughed back, "you started it. You told them about my boobs and they took it from there." This jolted me a little, and rather than get her upset I did not pursue the way she talked about her chest when she came to pick me up.
I felt no better when I glanced back at Rick and Mike and saw them high-fiving each other and then Rick pinched and pulled the fabric of his T shirt so that two imaginary breasts stuck out about nine inches. As I watched him do this Beth said: "So you like to tell guys about my boobs? Is this a turn-on for you?" "Of course not," I said, interested in changing the subject. "And you don't mind when two young hunks I just met make such intimate comments?" she continued, no smile on her face anymore. This was weird - she had done her share of directing their attention to her body. "I did very much mind," I said, "wasn't that obvious?" She was softer now, more serious, intently hanging on to what I was saying. "'Wasn't that obvious?'" she repeated, "No Tim, it was not obvious. Had my old boyfriend heard their comments about my breasts....." I interrupted, "don't start with your old boyfriend again." We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence until we got home.
I had sloughed off the eerie sexual side of that encounter and began to think about the joy of golfing with my wife and the business dividends of Beth cultivating other women on the golf course. If along the way there was some boyish flirting and teasing between my wife and these youngsters, I could live with that.
The next day Beth and I were finishing dinner when the phone rang. She answered it and laughed alot, and said: "Well thank you, I will, I definitely will. That's so sweet of you." I asked who it was and she, with her the phone uncovered, said one of her "babes" from the club, asking when she was going to start lessons. "Great!" I laughed. "He's a patient, very capable golf pro for his age. And enterprising - calling you at home like this." She looked at me and smiled: "He said I could get free lessons and we could practice on three holes that are closed for restoration - apparently the greens are already restored there but it's still not open yet and we wouldn't have to worry about other golfers playing through." I said: "You're going to do it?" She said: "Of course." She went to the phone and started called him back. "Where is he, at the club? This late?" I asked, excited that my wife was going to learn the greatest game ever invented. "He gave me his home number," aid, her eyes looking beyond me. "Hi lover, it's me again," I heard her say, "when do we start, teacher?" She was listening to Rick talking, who was going on about something, and my wife said: "Oh, definitely. Of course I would. Is that a promise?"
Beth made a date to meet Rick and Mike the morning after next for her first golf lesson. "Both of them?" I asked, "that's terrific!" "Rick said that Mike is in love with me," she giggled, "and when he asked to bring Mike along I said 'why not?" She studied me. "Jealous?" I sipped my beer. "You know," I said, "even with your freckles and that redhead complexion of yours I can tell when you're blushing." "Am not," she said. That night we had some rather torrid lovemaking to top off the day. She wore me out. I was so grateful to be married to this gorgeous woman, and she was mine exclusively.
On the day of the first lesson I cut out from the office early, enthusiastic about the appointment my wife had agreed to, so I decided, at her urging, to meet her there. "You can watch me make a fool of myself with my two handsome instructors," she laughed over the phone. I was pleased by how much she wanted me to tag along. "I can just drop off the clubs and hang around for a while, then go," I said, hoping she would insist on my staying around. "I really want you there to watch," she said quietly. This made me feel good because now we could do something as a couple - for the rest of our life together - even in retirement. Despite the inappropriate comments and flirtation of three days ago I was looking forward to my wife learning how to swing a seven iron!
I got there before her, with my clubs in my trunk for her to use, and encountered Rick and Mike in the parking lot of the club. They seemed surprised to see me. "Here to play?" Rick smiled, hardly concealing a frustration I sensed he had. "No, here to support my wife in her first plunge into golf." Mike had a faint smile on his face as well, and they both were a little patronizing toward me, more superficial, but they seemed eager to get this lesson started.
A few moments later Beth pulled up in the Lexus. "Good morning gentlemen!" she shouted, a big smile lighting up her pretty face. She looked fabulous, but decked out more for a dance club than a golf course. She had on a sheer knit pink top and a sun-kissed white pleated golf skirt, white socks and white golf shoes. The sides of the obligatory white visor cap were half buried in her thick red hair. Her sunglasses complemented her unusually heavy lipstick and double dose of cologne. The sleeveless pink top was a pull-over that showed plenty of d?colletage and its thin straps left most of her shoulders bare. There was a lot of skin, wonderfully highlighted with freckles. I sighed heavily as she walked nearer; the top was obviously the wrong size, meant for a woman with a quite smaller bust. It hung loose at the bottom, which only went down as far as a couple inches above the hem of her skirt.
Furthermore, she quite obviously was not wearing anything under it. Her boobs sat lower on her chest, but with such fullness the size of them was beyond belief. They seemed to jiggle constantly, even when she moved only slightly. The nipples were dramatically right out there, so inviting. In a way she seemed like a brand new woman to me, mysterious, incredibly sexy, and it frightened me. I walked up to her, kissed her, and said quietly, "you're dressed to kill. And, honey, I think you'll be uncomfortable with that top. It's too small on you!" I blocked her path and suggested she run home, now, and change into something far more conservative. She pecked me summarily on the cheek and, sauntering past me, said to them in a keyed up voice: "My husband thinks this top is too tight. What do you guys think? Will I stop traffic on the fairways?" She smiled at Rick and shook his hand. "Whoa," he said, transfixed. I was now confronted with the situation of my wife dressed like and ignoring my concern about it.
She breathed in and stood real straight while Rick and Mike stood gawking. "I wore this because I REALLY wanted you guys to see what gets in the way when I swing a golf club," she smiled. She was posing for them, right in front of me. Her smile slowly was replaced with intense stares at Rick and Mike. Her lips barely moved and I heard a quiet voice that I thought was overly serious: "Rick, see what I have to work with? It's a huge problem. Huge." She glanced down at her breasts then back up at him, seemingly confident all along that he would be in awe, which he was. She turned a little and did the same with Mike. Rick was tongue-tied. "Oh, it's no problem," he managed to say, clearing his throat. I was standing there, like an idiot, getting more anxious by the minute. I began to look around at the section of the course that was open - it was not as far from the restoring greens as I thought. People golfing would see us, or more specifically my wife.
She kept up this showing off, and again looked down at her top. "I really think I am way too big to play golf. Mike, you said I make the other busty girls look flat." Then she looked at me sweetly: "Isn't that what he said yesterday, Tim, after you told them all about my large chest? Remember, you stood right there and let Mike talk about my breasts, remember darling?" she said. Mike was getting less flustered, and grinned: "It'll be a challenge, but we're gonna teach you." "Let's keep this respectable," I admonished him. Beth laughed, "I think my husband is jealous. But he knows that the golf course is a great way to make new friends. Right Tim?" I let that one slide, realizing that she was needling me about my necking with Paula. A feverish feeling swept over my face; why had I succumbed to that temptation?
We got into a golf cart, Rick and Beth in the front, Mike and I in the back seat, and headed across the drive to the restoration area. Rick seemed to race the cart and rather than avoid the potholes left by the lawn equipment, seemed to drive into them directly. The cart bounced up and down and Rick openly watched my wife's breasts bounce with it. I tried to chat with Mike but he grunted back and made a point of leaning forward to say something to Mike and Beth - and blatantly cocking his head over her shoulder to admire my wife's chest. Rick took this joy ride a step further and drove the cart around in circles and up and down hills on the first fairway. Beth laughed and screamed with delight. "My God what mountains!" she said, in a 1-900 voice, "I'm shaking and jiggling all over the place!" "Hope so," Mike said.
Mike decided to get gabby with me. "You're wife is a very attractive woman," he said. "If she golfs with guys they'll lose. Right, Rick?" He yelled to Rick, "can you see Mrs. Cooper golfing in this outfit with some of the men at this place?" Rick chuckled: "If she stands facing a guy when he's trying to tee off, with the problem she has, the guy'll miss the fuckin' ball when he swings." They both laughed, and then my wife yelled: "so you guys think I have secret weapons?" Mike said: "Oh yeah," then looking over her shoulder said: "Mr. Cooper, don't you think your wife has secret weapons?" Rick leaned toward Beth and said something, and she waved her finger at him and laughed. He spoke to her again and she said: "You are a bad boy!", then grinned, looked down at her top, and then covered her boobs with her arms.
Finally we pulled up to the first tee. As we stood on the green Rick said, in a businesslike manner: "First thing you learn is to loosen up. Always do stretches before you even think about swinging that golf club." Mike said: "Oh yeah, absolutely." I frowned: "Huh? What stretches?" Rick, standing next to her, said: "Bend over and touch your toes," then he smirked, "if that's possible in your case." Beth eagerly bent over and reached her hands down to her feet, causing her golf skirt to hike up dangerously close to her buttocks. She was wearing red weave underpants, and this became obvious.
She stayed in that position and said through her legs: "Even a girl like me can do this." The guys and I were a few paces behind her now and her top had slid down, revealing the bottoms of her tits. "Yeah, like that," Rick said, poking Mike. My mouth was drying, and I barked: "OK, Beth, you can straighten up now." Then I turned to Rick: "You know damn well toe-touching is not part arming up for golf." I said it firmly. Beth looked at Rick: "Hey teacher, I'm stuck." She was still bent over, her fingers reaching her feet. Rick said: "You are?" Beth said: "When you're a top-heavy gal you need help getting back up again."
Rick and Mike stepped to each side and gave her the help she "needed" to stand up straight. To thank them she pulled them toward her with one hand on each of their necks and kissed one, then the other, on the mouth.
Rick spent time patiently explaining the grip. After about five minutes of her getting her hands to fit reasonably well around the five iron they practiced on, he talked to her about stance. He addressed the ball and then handed her the iron. He presented this very well, and I was trying to convince myself that the spooky interaction between these young men and my wife was about to get serious.
She set up with the club in her hand and then asked: "Will my chest make it hard to stand the way you're standing?" Rick smiled: "No," then he muttered to Mike, "your chest will make me hard." Mike laughed. "What's so funny?" I asked. "Nothing," Rick said. My wife took a few swings. "How was that?" she said.
"You're looking good," Rick said. Then, facing her, he looked at her chest. "How do your arms feel holding the club while you swing?" She looked down at her boobs and said: "My breasts kind of overwhelm everything." "Including me, especially because you're braless," he said, a lewd look on his face. "Yeah," my wife smiled, putting her hands on her curvy hips, "I wanted my jugs to be loose and jiggle with my swing." She stuck her chest out and shook it.
Then she took another swing and as her swing ended I noticed that she twisted her upper body a little forward, as if something was still moving, causing her upper half to keep moving while her legs and hips were s d. "See? That's what happens when I put my upper body into it." She swung again and her body did that twist again. "Lots of momentum with my secret weapons," she said, looking back at me and winking.
Mike said, smiling at Rick: "They're so big they just keep on jiggling." Beth asked with a sincerity I was beginning to hate: "Should I have worn a bra, you guys? Would it be better to have those cups running over?"
Now Rick and Mike were both facing her, and just gawking at her chest. "Let's just have the lesson, fellas," I protested, "and keep our minds on the game." "Oh, no bra is fine," Rick said, "how do your nipples feel when you swing?" "That's enough," I said, "there will be no more comments about my wife's body. It's rude and chauvinistic." Beth more and more was acting like I was part of the scenery. "They're very sensitive and the top I'm wearing rubs against them when my upper arms push against my tits."
Rick stared at her boobs and said: "We need to know something to teach you correctly. What is your bra size?" I swung the golf bag out of the cart, and annoyed at his question said: "I don't see where that is any of your business, Rick." Still using that nse, serious tone, Beth said: "Can you guess?" Then she said to me, glancing in my direction: "And keep your mouth shut."
"Beth," I laughed, "we're done here. Rick, Mike, find someone else to harass. I can teach my own wife how to golf." I took her hand and turned to walk toward the clubhouse. But she didn't move. She said: "Oh no honey, they're just little flirts. You stay here and watch so that things don't get too -uh - physical." I shook my head. "No, this is wrong. Let's go." She didn't move. She smiled at Rick, "so what size is my bra?" He stood and looked intently at her chest, which she dramatized by pressing her shoulders back and placing her hands on her hips. "38?" She shook her head and pointed her index finger upward. "Don't forget the cup size. Ask the expert on cup size for the details...." She gestured toward me and then turned to Mike. "How about you, gorgeous?" He muttered: "40? D?" I felt like I needed to sit down. Rick said: "Oh yeah, cup size, like D or E." In response to Mike she again pointed upward and looked to Rick. He said: "42? E?" "Bingo!" she laughed. "If they were clubs they'd be drivers!" The boys and Beth laughed.
We wound up near the first green after Beth's several strokes worked her ball through the fairway. Rick coughed to clear his throat, and I noticed something that only added fuel to the fire in my head. Rick was wearing loose khakis shorts and it was quite obvious that he had a raging hard-on. I felt like a man stuck in an enclosed space, like a coffin, with no way out. The morning sun felt hot on my face as we stood on the green.
Rick actually got serious again about teaching my wife golf and asked her to get out a putter. "Ideally," Rick said, getting set over his ball and looking over at Beth, "the body has to be relaxed so that the swing is nice and fluid, swinging back and forth like a pendulum." He took a few practice strokes and then sank a twelve foot putt. "My hero!" she said. He took the ball out of the cup and said: "We don't want the cup to run over."
He was standing near her, his erection even more noticeable, and his eyes seemed to be constantly, openly on her boobs now, and with one arm across his chest and his other elbow resting on it he tapped an index finger against his cheek. "Mike," he continued, "Don't you think we could do a better job helping Mrs. Cooper if she took off her top?" Mike looked at her lustily and said: "Oh yeah. Definitely." Nobody said a thing for a moment, and Beth said, with a frown: "But if I did that you would see something only my husband sees." Rick said: "This is just for the lesson. Please don't be offended." She said: "Oh I'm not offended, anything to help me learn my husband's favorite pastime." Then she turned to me: "Speak of the devil, my husband is standing right here, I almost forgot. Let me ask him....Darling, what do you think, would it make sense for me to take my top off? It will help me learn about golf, and you and I can play together - right into our twilight years."
I was standing with my arms folded, speechless, shaking my head and glaring. Mike said: "Come on, Mrs. Cooper, while he's thinking about it, give us a peek. We want to see those weapons of yours." Beth then said something that floored me.
She looked down at Rick's crotch and said: "Does that get in the way of your swing?" "What?" he said, slightly confused. She walked closer and pointed at his crotch. "That," and she kept pointing, then her head still aimed toward his crotch, her eyes batted up at his face. He smiled. My stomach was curdling. "Honey------," I started. She said, in a mock serious tone: "Well my teachers have been talking about the importance of a relaxed swing with nothing in the way. And Rick's got something in the way of his swing."
Then she looked at me, still pointing: "Do you see what I'm talking about, dear? Did you have that problem when you played with those college ladies?"
