Three Over Par Read online

  “Fuck, Luce, you’re gonna make me come,” he gasped just before the first powerful squirt of his hot ejaculate erupted inside me.

  I milked him, squeezing him dry of come, my groin aching, wanting more, silently willing him hard again. Willing him to fuck me to exhaustion, till the roaring animal inside was once more leashed and quiescent.

  It wasn’t to be.

  He draped across my back, his shirt wet with sweat, his breath hoarse. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  I smiled at the understatement. “So did I.”

  And that’s how the lessons began.

  Now I only wish I knew how they would end.

  Chapter Two

  After that exhilarating, addictive day, I never wore anything but a skirt for my lessons. For competitions and casual practice rounds, I donned respectable capris, trousers or shorts, teaming them with sensible polo shirts. For the Pro, it was always a skirt. Not only did it enable easy access to bare flesh, it also offered the means to cover myself quickly should we be caught.

  To date, we never have been. The Pro has keen eyes and knows who’s out on the course, and although he’s never admitted it, I like to think Daniel watches over me, defending my body against prying eyes.

  Neither the Pro nor I have asked for anything more than what we experience together on the golf course. Our relationship is confined to the fairways, tees, greens and rough of the Harrington Golf Club. It’s passionate, joyous and sometimes incredibly frustrating but always thrilling. Always crackling with erotic and adventurous excitement. Heady with danger-induced adrenaline.

  Sometimes I think we outdo ourselves there so much that a normal affair would seem mundane. A relationship dead before it lived. Killed by our fantasy come real.

  I hadn’t lied when I said I’d try anything. Mrs. Debenham’s words were etched across my psyche, hot with warning about what my life could be like if I let it fester unlived until it gradually decayed rottenly away as hers had done.

  At first, our liaisons were relatively tame, not much different from that first encounter. We were too fevered to experiment widely, too frantic for release of our long-pent passions. But after a few weeks, as the edge of our desire dulled, we tried different things. Mouths were used, positions varied, props experimented with until finally, almost inevitably, we did the one thing the Pro had been wanting for a very long time.

  As was my habit, I hooked the ball into the thick scrub that lined the eighth fairway. Although he’d already brought me to orgasm once, his expert teasing had dragged me to the edge many more times, and by the eighth I was throbbing with the need to feel him inside me.

  It was still summer and his shorts were spotted with dabs of quickly drying pre-come. As soon as we’d parked the cart in our usual spot, I had his cock out and my skirt up. Amused by my impatience, the Pro shook his head and stepped out of the cart, his penis poking up like a flagstick. I fondled it as he dragged me through the rustling dead grass toward our hiding place. The place we let our rapacious desires run wild.

  The eighth runs along the boundary of the golf course, its densely planted and bracken-infested rough separated from a tract of State forest by the loose, tangled remnants of an old barbed-wire fence. A few metres past the fence, at the heart of a small scrub-and tree-screened clearing, lay a long-fallen tree. We’d fucked on it and against it many times before, but this time he pressed me forward, indicating he wanted to give it to me doggy style. I obliged and gasped as his cock slid into me.

  “Christ, you’re tight.” It wasn’t a new comment. The Pro said that to me every week.

  He nudged his thumb against my arsehole, rubbing until it slid in a little. I moaned and jerked back against him. He pressed harder, squeezing his thumb in up to the first knuckle, his strokes staying long and lazy. A sign he wanted this fuck to last.

  “You like that, don’t you, Luce? You like my thumb up your arse.”

  I nodded, panting.

  “You said once you’d do anything. You still say that, babe?”

  I gritted my teeth against my building orgasm. His thumb was now up to the hilt in my arse, his cock thrusting against my cervix.

  “Yes,” I managed, my voice strangled. Sexual delirium clamped paws around my cunt, suffocating my brain function.

  “I wanna fuck your arse, babe. I wanna stick my dick in your tight little hole and fuck you hard.”

  A shudder wracked my groin. My sphincter seized around his thumb. My vaginal muscles clenched in response to his words, rippling with excitement. If the bulge of his thumb in that tight space had sent ecstasy rocketing through my veins, I couldn’t imagine what his cock would do.

  Sweat trickled down my cheek. I would suffer some pain, I understood that, but I would experience pleasure too. Immeasurable pleasure. And I wanted it.

  “Then do it.”

  He stopped moving, and I wondered if I’d shocked him, if he thought I was going to refuse. I’d never refuse. I’d told him the truth from the start. I’d do anything. If I didn’t like it, I’d tell him to stop. I wanted to experience everything. I wanted what Mrs. Debenham never had, a life with no regrets.

  Tremors cascaded over my rump and down my thighs as he removed his cock from my cunt and rubbed the head against my puckered opening. I breathed deeply through my nose, bracing myself for insertion. His cock was slick with my juice and the condom’s lubrication but my arse was virginal, my anus tense.

  He nudged against the hole, testing. Sensing the need for more lubricant, he drew away and inserted two fingers unto my vagina, twisting them around to collect fluid before trailing them up to my arsehole and wetting the entrance. He repeated the action a few more times, each time delving deeper into my anus with his fingers until they slid in as easily as they did into my cunt.

  I cast over my shoulder, relishing his feverish expression, exhilarated by his fervour.

  He regarded me with bright, hyper-excited eyes. “Ready, babe?”

  I nodded and felt the tip of his cock rest against the opening. He pushed gently, easing the tip inside, and pushed a little harder until the entire flared head sat squeezed into my arsehole. A shudder of ecstasy trilled up my spine and sent my cheeks tingling. He pressed forward, groaning as he slid farther in.

  “You like that, babe? Is it good?”

  I swallowed, trying to bring saliva to my dry mouth. I had no words to explain this hedonistic thrill. All I could think was that this was the most exquisite sensation I’d ever experienced. My arse throbbed, the skin stretched unnaturally and almost painfully around his cock, and yet I didn’t want him to stop.

  Slowly, he began to fuck me.

  I grasped at the fallen log, my nails digging into the rough bark. I dropped my head and closed my eyes, feeling every thrust, revelling in this new sensation.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  I thought he was about to come, but they were merely words of pleasure. I wiped my palm on my shirt and snaked my hand downward. My cunt was swollen and wet, still oozing my excitement. I slicked my fingers and touched my clit, rubbing it gently, curious to see how my body would react.

  Immediately, everything intensified. My legs jellied and my flesh ignited into a million tiny blazes as the deep drill of his thrusts, the swing and slap of his balls against my lips, the thrum of my cunt muscles, magnified into one enormous, unimaginable, intoxicating thrill.

  The Pro leaned forward and grasped my breasts, tweaking at my nipples. My cunt spasmed. My fingers circled my clit, sending electric pulses through my groin. I whimpered. There was too much feeling, too many sensations. An orgasm was building, rising with frenetic speed, impossible to stop. My whimper became a sob.

  “Yeah, babe. That’s it.” The Pro clamped his fingers on my nipples, driving his cock into me in long smooth strokes.

  “Robbie, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  I don’t know why I said it, except I was too lost to care what came out of my mouth. The Pro couldn’t stop if he wanted to. Like me, he was too f
ar gone.

  “Oh fuck, Lucy,” he gasped, and buried himself as deep as he could go.

  I arched my back, letting out a guttural, primitive sound as I orgasmed, pushing back against him as if that could force him deeper. Every inch of me felt on fire, as though I’d been dragged through hot coals. I trembled with the intensity of it, at the incredible pleasure-pain, at the never-before-felt exhilaration of a cock coming in my arse.

  The shudders seemed to last forever.

  “Jesus,” panted the Pro, leaning across my back and bracing his hands against the tree. “Jesus.”

  Our sweat-drenched shirts clung together. A light breeze cooled the trickles of come and sweat streaking my thighs. Endorphins rendered my brain hazy. My pelvic muscles throbbed. His penis rested deliciously in my arse, prolonging the pleasure.

  “Yeah.”

  The Pro nuzzled my neck, his lashes fluttering against my sensitised skin, before kissing his way to my ear. His voice was low with awe. “That was amazing.”

  And it had been.

  But not as amazing as when we did it with Daniel.

  Daniel. I can’t think of him without heat running through me, as though his very name causes my heart to erupt with love, spilling it like lava through my body.

  Daniel is the golf club’s greenkeeper and a very good one. Our greens are the envy of many, fast and rolling true. Our fairways lush and well-tended, the roughs difficult but not impossible to play out of. Only our bunkers are poor, a sign of the club’s diminishing finances and not Daniel’s negligence, as the club’s resident troublemaker, Mrs. Croydon, had once attempted to convince everyone to believe.

  I’d noticed him. Unless you’re as deadened as some of the older ladies I play with, it’s impossible for a man like him not to register in your mind. His large, muscular frame draws attention the way a beautiful sculpture in a museum does. Eyes run immediately over curves, savouring nature’s perfect lines, glorying in that restrained strength, the latent power of his masculine beauty.

  And on the infrequent occasions when we crossed paths on the course, he’d smile at me in a way that made my stomach leap like it does in a fast-moving elevator and caused my hand to press to my cheek as it embarrassingly flushed with blood.

  He was also a regular at Hakea Lodge, the nursing home at which I worked. His grandmother was a resident, and every Thursday at twelve-thirty Daniel would arrive to take her out to lunch. I seldom saw him, but if I happened to be passing, he’d smile shyly at me as he did to all the nurses, and I’d smile back, heart fluttering, before carrying on with my business. A few steps later, when I thought he wasn’t looking, I’d cast a glance over my shoulder, wanting another glimpse of that rugged, handsome face. Rarely was I rewarded.

  Daniel, I decided, was a sublime enigma.

  He’d been watching us covertly for a few weeks, hiding in the trees a distance from our secret clearing off the eighth fairway. I was so intent on the Pro’s delicious cock I never noticed him, but one day, when the Pro had me on my hands and knees, fucking me from behind as he muttered his inanities, I saw him. Daniel stared at me, wide-eyed and hungry, and as our eyes locked, I started to come. I’d always had a voyeur fantasy, and now it had been fulfilled. Our gazes didn’t part until the Pro collapsed panting and spent on my back, and Daniel slid silently away through the trees.

  The following week he was there again. I watched him over the Pro’s shoulder, wondering what he’d do, hoping he’d come closer. He didn’t. He remained half-hidden by a thick-trunked gum, his eyes once more on mine. The Pro had me pressed against the rough bark of a Casuarina tree, his hands holding my arse as he pumped his cock, but I didn’t feel the scratches as the bark dug into my skin, only the heat of my cunt and the explosion of ecstasy Daniel’s voyeurism brought on.

  His surveillance continued without any shift toward involvement until one afternoon, as a flush of pleasure rose up my neck and spread throughout my body, he pulled out his penis and began to stroke it with rhythmic urgency. And under the forest canopy we came together, watching each other orgasm through the damp air.

  By that time, the Pro knew Daniel had been spying. He’d started talking about it, fucking me while asking if I liked being watched, telling me how tight and wet I became when Daniel was there.

  I don’t know if they discussed me, I could only assume they had, but the following week, Daniel didn’t stay by his tree. He waited until the Pro had me on my hands and knees with his cock sunk deep inside, then strode forward as though this was what he’d been doing every week.

  The sight of him was breathtaking. Everything about him said earth and land and nature—the darkly tanned skin of his forearms, the crow’s feet around his eyes, the creases left white from staring permanently into the sun. His sun-bleached hair shone gold and bronze on top and dark underneath. Even his body was as tall and solid as the trees that sheltered us. Where the Pro was all sinewy athleticism, Daniel was solidity and strength, and I was mesmerised.

  I expected him to kneel in front of me and present me his penis to suck. He knelt, but his cock stayed in his trousers. Instead, he gazed at me with sooty-lashed eyes, and as the Pro slid his cock in and out of my cunt in a series of atypically languorous and deliciously long drives, Daniel leaned forward and kissed me.

  And with that kiss, I was truly lost.

  I came almost immediately. A shocking convulsion that had my muscles gripping the Pro’s cock with painful intensity and my body breaking out in wild trembles. I sobbed into Daniel’s mouth, a tearful sound as if I was overcome by some terrible tragedy. The Pro grunted and grabbed harder at my hips, trying to force his cock deeper into my cramped hole, his thrusts impeded by my contracting muscles. Daniel simply touched my face, stroking my cheek and chin while his tender lips caressed mine in the most sensual and loving kiss I had ever experienced.

  The Pro came soon after, muttering something about tight, moist pussies before releasing a taut “Oh, fuck” and exhaling loudly. For several seconds longer, Daniel’s mouth lingered on mine, then he drew away, sending my bereft heart spiralling and my lungs compressing. My desolation was so acute I thought I’d suffocate without his breath on mine.

  He gazed at me with autumnal eyes, his beautiful, moist-lipped mouth slightly raised in the corners, and something unfathomable passed between us, something I couldn’t catch but wanted desperately to chase before it butterflied away. Without a word, he kissed me lightly on the forehead, stood and walked back into the scrub.

  “Fuck, Luce. You nearly strangled me,” the Pro said, seemingly oblivious to what had happened between the greenkeeper and me.

  I ignored him, my focus on Daniel as he disappeared into the trees.

  The Pro tickled my sides to get my attention. I twisted to look over my shoulder at him. His blue-grey eyes were flushed with excitement. “You like this threesome thing, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” There was no point denying it. Since Daniel’s first appearance, my entire golf lesson had become about making it to the eighth so I could see him again.

  “Yeah, as soon as I saw you watching Dan that first time, I knew you’d be into this.”

  “I’m into all sorts of things, Robbie.”

  “Yeah, but this is something else.”

  The Pro’s softening cock slipped from my passage. He dug into his pocket for a hanky and swabbed me clean before tying off the condom and wiping at himself. When he’d finished I climbed to my feet and pulled my skirt back over my hips, looking down as he tucked his flaccid cock back into his shorts.

  “Will he be here next week?”

  The Pro shrugged. “Dunno. Up to him. You want me to ask?”

  “No. Let it be his decision.”

  For the remainder of the week I could do nothing but think about Daniel and fret over whether he’d show during my lesson the following Monday. Whether I’d ever again experience the exquisite taste of his mouth, the yield of his lips, the light brush of his tongue on mine.

  At the nur
sing home I paid special attention to his grandmother, something I found easy to do given she was one of the home’s most likable residents. To my guilty disappointment, Mrs. Haddon was also one of its healthiest so she rarely needed any treatment or observation. Her arthritis caused her great discomfort but the same could be said for almost all the elderly people in Hakea Lodge. Only Marcus, our severely disabled accident victim, was free from that trouble. Hardly a blessing given the poor teenager’s myriad other issues.

  On Thursday, the day I knew Daniel came to take his grandmother out to lunch, I poked my head into Mrs. Haddon’s room to ask if she needed anything. Although she smiled in that kind manner she always used with the staff, her face fell a little when she realised it was me and not her grandson. Daniel was due in fifteen minutes and the old lady was dressed in her stepping-out clothes and clutching her handbag on her lap, alive with expectation. I understood her eagerness. I felt exactly the same.

  She waved me away. “I’m fine, love, and my grandson will be here soon.”

  By rights I should have left her alone, but this old lady was my link to Daniel and I had so many questions for which I craved answers. It was stupid, really. Daniel and I had barely spoken but there was a connection between us, I’d felt it in the scrub. An affinity that went beyond sex and into the realm of true passion.

  I wasn’t being hopelessly romantic or self-deluding. That look had been real, full of the same warmth and tenderness as his kiss had been. The Pro, the scrub, the golf course, may as well not have existed for all we saw in that moment. I was being fucked by one man, but my heart was being touched by a far better one.

  I smiled at Mrs. Haddon. “I’m not busy at the moment. I can rub some liniment into your knees, if you like.”

  She peered anxiously at the door, as if Daniel would appear over my shoulder at any second, but I knew from experience he was punctual.

  I moved into the room. “You’ll feel better for it.”