My husband and I sit on the deck of the Boothbay Country Club sipping gin and tonics and watching the golf – another glorious vacation day drifts by. A tournament is just finishing up, and another is about to start. He goes to get another drink, and when he comes back, he is excited. “I was just asked if I wanted to golf in this tournament that’s about to start. There’s a couple of teams that have had players drop out. If I want to play, all I have to pay is the twenty-five dollars for the skins. Would you mind?”

I do mind, of course, but it’s his vacation, too, so being a good sport I tell him to go ahead. I walk with him to the car to get his clubs and back to the clubhouse, making arrangements for when I should come back to get him. We find out that his group is going to be starting on the first tee, so I get another drink and sit by the rail on the deck to watch the start.

The earlier tournament was played between lacrosse players from Bowdoin and Adroscoggin colleges, and the clubhouse and deck are crowded with sweaty young athletes. I’m the only woman on the deck.

The tables are pretty full, and a couple of the college students ask politely if they might sit at my table. I nod yes. They engage me in polite small talk, and along with the usual “Where are you from?” “Why are you in Maine?” small talk, I tell them that I am there watching my husband start the tournament. “So you’re going to have a few hours to kill?” asks one. I nod yes.

There are two teams starting from each tee, and his team is going out second, so there is an extended wait. I finish my drink, and a few minutes later, another is set in front of me. One of the boys had gotten another drink for me. “That was a gin and tonic you had, wasn’t it?” he asks. “With the lime, I just assumed…”

“Yes it was, but you didn’t need to get me this, let me pay you.”

“No, no, this is our way to welcome you to Maine and to thank you for letting us share your table.”

I thank them and begin to talk to them about – about just about anything and everything. I am so engrossed in the conversation that I never do see my husband tee off. After a while I become aware that the jukebox or radio in the bar has been turned up so that it can be heard plainly on the deck. I hum the tune that is playing. One of the boys notices and says, “C’mon, let’s dance.”

I never really give any thought to saying no. I get up and start to dance with him. His friend joins us and the three of us dance on the deck. The next song is a slow song, and one after the other they take turns. I fall right into a close embrace with each of them, as if I had known them all my life. Looking over the shoulder of my partner, I notice that quite a few of the other boys are watching.

When the song ends, I go back to the table and sit down. Another gin and tonic awaits – my fourth… fifth? After more small talk, that glass, too, is empty. The boy – one of the dancers – sitting next to me puts his hand on my thigh. I take his hand to move it away, but he resists, and for some reason I don’t fight it. He leans in and whispers, “C’mon, I want to show you something.” I know I should say no, but I am curiously aroused by, and trusting of, this handsome young man.

He takes my hand and leads me into the clubhouse, through a doorway and down a flight of stairs. He leads me through a doorway labeled, Private – Members ONLY. He flips on the light switch and I see we are in a small locker/shower room. He sits down straddling a bench between two rows of lockers, and pulls me down so I am sitting in front of him. He leans in and kisses me – a long, passionate, open-mouthed kiss. I kiss him back.

We neck for a while before he places his hand tentatively on my breast. When I don’t object, he fumbles to open the buttons on my blouse. I help him with the buttons, and then turn around so that he can find the clasp on my bra. He pushes the straps off my shoulders and reaches around and cups my breasts in his hands. I scoot back on the bench so that I lean against him. I twist my neck around so that I can kiss him and we neck while he massages my breasts and plays with my nipples.

I feel my shorts being unzipped, and at first it doesn’t compute that, with both hands on my breasts, it can’t be the boy I’m kissing that is undressing me. I pull away to see his friend straddling the bench facing me, hands on the waistband of my unzipped and unbuttoned shorts. He smiles at me and leans in to kiss me. After a long kiss, his mouth leaves mine and travels down my throat, between my breasts, to one nipple, then the other.

The first boy pulls me back and begins necking with me again.

At some point, the second boy leaves kissing my breasts and finishes pulling off my shorts and panties. It’s only a moment before I feel his hot breath and warm tongue. The boy behind holds me tightly as I begin to writhe on the narrow bench from the second boy’s expert attack on my clit with his lips and tongue. I come twice before he stops. When I start to get too loud, the first boy muffles me with his hand over my mouth.

The cunnilinguist pulls away, and the first boy helps me sit up. The boy who has just eaten me stands and pulls off his shorts and under shorts. He puts his hand on the back of my head, and guides his hard, dripping cock into my mouth. I don’t resist. It’s not long before he begins to groan and writhe and not much longer before he fills my mouth with his come. He backs away, and his friend is waiting, cock in hand. Several of the other boys now ring the bench, watching.

But in my state of arousal, I don’t give it a second thought – without a word, I begin blowing him. The others line up and I sit on the bench and blow each in turn. When I finish with one, the next takes his place – I lose count after five. Some are passive and let me stroke and suck them to orgasm; others are aggressive and treat my mouth like a pussy, taking a fistful of my hair and thrusting their cocks into my mouth. Hips buck as each load is shot into my mouth. I greedily take it all. As one comes, he gasps, “You are the Queen of Cocksucking!”

Two cocks are thrust at me at once. "Open wide, Queenie!" someone says. While I suck one, I give a hand job to the other, switching back and forth. The one in my hand suddenly erupts onto my cheek and chest. The cock in my mouth bulges and I gulp and slurp another load of hot come. Wiping the come from my face I turn to the next boy. As I reach for him, I see that it is the one who I had blown first, the one who had gone down on me. He is hard again and says, "Let's fuck.”

He lays down on the bench, his cock standing straight up. I stand and straddle him, lowering my dripping cunt onto his rock hard cock. I slide down it until I feel his balls against my ass. I ride him until he comes and then do the same with another lean, handsome, hard young athlete. The next has me mount him facing away from him. I’m fucked on my knees, on my back, sitting on the edge of the sink.

At some point – with the fifth or sixth? – I moan and throw my head back, coming. A few seconds later when I feel another load of hot come shoot deep inside me, I come again.

Finally I am alone in the locker room with the first two boys. I haven’t fucked the first one yet, and he lays down on the bench expectantly. As I begin to ride him, I feel the other stroking my ass. He slides a finger into me, and I moan, not sure if I can take any more. He works his finger in and out a few times, and then withdraws. He tells his friend to pull out for a moment, and then thrusts in and out of me, lubricating his cock in my well-used cunt. Moments later I feel the head of his cock at my anus, pushing insistently. I relax, push back against him, and he slides inside.

What can I tell you? Being fucked by two men at the same time is incredible. Sometimes they would both stroke in at the same time – I felt incredibly full. Other times one would be stroking in while the other was withdrawing. That was wonderful, too. It wasn’t long before they came – hot come exploded deep in my ass first, and soon after, one last warm burst in my cunt.

My long afternoon of partying is finally over. I look at my watch and see that I have been fucking with these young athletes for almost three hours. They are very solicitous. They help me clean up and get dressed. In places my hair is sticky with come, but I don’t have time to go back to the inn to wash and dry it, so one of them runs up and buys me a golf cap from the pro shop.

I am back at the rail on the deck, a safe tonic and lime in hand, when my husband’s foursome makes its way up the fairway to the 18th hole. After putting away his clubs, he joins me on the deck. He says that we are invited to the tournament banquet, but that he is tired and would just as soon head back and relax for a while before getting a late dinner somewhere. I agree.

Later that night as he slides under the sheets, he says, “I hope you aren’t expecting to get laid tonight, because I’m bushed. I took way too many strokes today.”

“That’s OK,” I say, smiling to myself and thinking, “So did I!”